Posted: March 12th, 2023
Reasoning and Decision-Making
Read: Anderson: Chapters 10 — 11
PSYC 575
Research Paper: Final Submission Assignment Instructions
Overview
You will write a research paper that discusses and evaluates the current research in the field of false memories. As a formal research paper, it must be completely focused on the empirical evidence pertaining to the topic. Refrain from discussing your personal opinions or experiences. You must use scholarly sources for your references; do not use a textbook, website, or popular press as a source.
Instructions
The paper must include the following:
· 12–14 pages of content (not including title page, abstract, and reference page)
· Title, abstract and reference page
· Current APA formatting throughout
· At least 12 peer-reviewed journal articles
· A discussion of the important limitations of the evidence (studies) presented
· A discussion of conflicting evidence for any of the studies discussed
The organization of this paper must be as follows:
Title Page 1 page
Abstract 120–150 words
Introduction 1–2 paragraphs
Thesis statement: one sentence that states the focus of your paper
1. Key Points (include 3–5 main points)
a. Point 1
b. Point 2
c. Point 3
d. Point 4
e. Point 5
Body of Paper 8–10 pages
Topic sentence and supporting research for each of your key points. Use the same order as in the introduction.
1. Research Concept/Finding
a. Supporting evidence
b. Connect to next concept/finding
2. Research Concept/Finding
a. Supporting evidence
b. Connect to next concept/finding
3. Research Concept/Finding
a. Supporting evidence
b. Connect to next concept/finding
Summary 1–2 pages
Write a summary sentence that wraps up the concepts discussed in the paper.
1. Summary sentence must be followed by clear statements that summarize each of the main concepts/findings discussed in the body.
a. Summary of research Concept/Finding 1
b. Summary of research Concept/Finding 2
c. Summary of research Concept/Finding 3
d. Summary of research Concept/Finding 4
e. Summary of research Concept/Finding 5
Conclusion 1 paragraph
Final thoughts in a paragraph
References At least 12 peer-reviewed journal articles
Note: Your assignment will be checked for originality via the Turnitin plagiarism tool.
Page 1 of 2
Cognitive Psychology
and Its Implications
Eighth Edition
ANDERSON8e-FM.indd 1 13/09/14 10:04 AM
This page intentionally left blank
John R. Anderson
Carnegie Mellon University
w o r t h P u b l i s h e r s
A Macmillan Education Company
Cognitive Psychology
and Its Implications
Eighth Edition
ANDERSON8e-FM.indd 3 13/09/14 10:04 AM
u To Gordon Bower
Vice President, Editing, Design, and Media Production: Catherine Woods
Publisher: Rachel Losh
Associate Publisher: Jessica Bayne
Senior Acquisitions Editor: Christine Cardone
Marketing Manager: Lindsay Johnson
Marketing Assistant: Tess Sanders
Development Editor: Len Neufeld
Associate Media Editor: Anthony Casciano
Assistant Editor: Catherine Michaelsen
Director of Editing, Design, and Media Production: Tracey Kuehn
Managing Editor: Lisa Kinne
Project Editor: Kerry O’Shaughnessy
Art Director: Diana Blume
Cover Designer: Vicki Tomaselli
Text Designer: Dreamit Inc.
Illustration Coordinator: Janice Donnola
Illustrations: Dragonfly Media Group
Photo Editor: Bianca Moscatelli
Production Manager: Sarah Segal
Composition: MPS Ltd.
Printing and Binding: RR Donnelley and Sons
Cover Painting: Mario Colonel/Aurora/Getty Images
Library of Congress Control Number: 2014938514
ISBN-13: 978-1-4641-4891-0
ISBN-10: 1-4641-4891-0
© 2015, 2010, 2005, 2000 by Worth Publishers
All rights reserved.
Printed in the United States of America
First Printing
Worth Publishers
41 Madison Avenue
New York, NY 10010
www.worthpublishers.com
ANDERSON8e-FM.indd 4 13/09/14 10:04 AM
http://www.worthpublishers.com
John Robert Anderson is Richard King Mellon Professor of Psychology
and Computer Science at Carnegie Mellon University. He is known for developing
ACT-R, which is the most widely used cognitive architecture in cognitive science.
Anderson was also an early leader in research on intelligent tutoring systems,
and computer systems based on his cognitive tutors currently teach mathematics
to about 500,000 children in American schools. He has served as President of
the Cognitive Science Society, and has been elected to the American Academy
of Arts and Sciences, the National Academy of Sciences, and the American
Philosophical Society. He has received numerous scientific awards including the
American Psychological Association’s Distinguished Scientific Career Award, the
David E. Rumelhart Prize for Contributions to the Formal Analysis of Human
Cognition, and the inaugural Dr. A. H. Heineken Prize for Cognitive Science. He
is completing his term as editor of the prestigious Psychological Review.
v
About the Author
ANDERSON8e-FM.indd 5 13/09/14 10:04 AM
This page intentionally left blank
Preface xvii
Chapter 1
The Science of Cognition 1
Chapter 2
Perception 27
Chapter 3
Attention and Performance 53
Chapter 4
Mental Imagery 78
Chapter 5
Representation of Knowledge 97
Chapter 6
Human Memory: Encoding and Storage 124
Chapter 7
Human Memory: Retention and Retrieval 150
Chapter 8
Problem Solving 181
Chapter 9
Expertise 210
Chapter 10
Reasoning 237
Chapter 11
Decision Making 260
Chapter 12
Language Structure 281
Chapter 13
Language Comprehension 313
Chapter 14
Individual Differences in Cognition 338
Glossary 365
References 373
Name Index 393
Subject Index 399
vii
Brief Contents
ANDERSON8e-FM.indd 7 13/09/14 10:04 AM
This page intentionally left blank
Preface xvii
Chapter 1
The Science of Cognition 1
u Motivations for Studying Cognitive Psychology / 1
Intellectual Curiosity / 1
Implications for Other Fields / 2
Practical Applications / 3
u The History of Cognitive Psychology / 3
Early History / 4
Psychology in Germany: Focus on Introspective Observation / 4
Implications: What does cognitive psychology tell us about how to
study effectively? / 5
Psychology in America: Focus on Behavior / 6
The Cognitive Revolution: AI, Information Theory,
and Linguistics / 7
Information-Processing Analyses / 9
Cognitive Neuroscience / 10
u Information Processing: The Communicative Neurons / 10
The Neuron / 11
Neural Representation of Information / 13
u Organization of the Brain / 15
Localization of Function / 17
Topographic Organization / 18
u Methods in Cognitive Neuroscience / 19
Neural Imaging Techniques / 20
Using fMRI to Study Equation Solving / 22
Chapter 2
Perception 27
u Visual Perception in the Brain / 27
Early Visual Information Processing / 28
Information Coding in Visual Cells / 31
Depth and Surface Perception / 33
Object Perception / 34
ix
Contents
ANDERSON8e-FM.indd 9 13/09/14 10:04 AM
x / c o n t e n t s
u Visual Pattern Recognition / 35
Template-Matching Models / 36
Implications: Separating humans from BOTs / 37
Feature Analysis / 37
Object Recognition / 39
Face Recognition / 42
u Speech Recognition / 43
Feature Analysis of Speech / 44
u Categorical Perception / 45
u Context and Pattern Recognition / 47
Massaro’s FLMP Model for Combination of Context and Feature
Information / 48
Other Examples of Context and Recognition / 49
u Conclusions / 51
Chapter 3
Attention and Performance 53
u Serial Bottlenecks / 53
u Auditory Attention / 54
The Filter Theory / 55
The Attenuation Theory and the Late-Selection Theory / 56
u Visual Attention / 58
The Neural Basis of Visual Attention / 60
Visual Search / 61
The Binding Problem / 62
Neglect of the Visual Field / 65
Object-Based Attention / 67
u Central Attention: Selecting Lines of Thought to Pursue / 69
Implications: Why is cell phone use and driving a dangerous
combination? / 72
Automaticity: Expertise Through Practice / 72
The Stroop Effect / 73
Prefrontal Sites of Executive Control / 75
u Conclusions / 76
Chapter 4
Mental Imagery 78
u Verbal Imagery Versus Visual Imagery / 79
Implications: Using brain activation to read people’s minds / 81
u Visual Imagery / 82
Image Scanning / 84
Visual Comparison of Magnitudes / 85
Are Visual Images Like Visual Perception? / 86
Visual Imagery and Brain Areas / 87
Imagery Involves Both Spatial and Visual Components / 88
Cognitive Maps / 89
Egocentric and Allocentric Representations of Space / 91
Map Distortions / 94
u Conclusions: Visual Perception and Visual Imagery / 95
ANDERSON8e-FM.indd 10 13/09/14 10:04 AM
c o n t e n t s / xi
Chapter 5
Representation of Knowledge 97
u Knowledge and Regions of the Brain / 97
u Memory for Meaningful Interpretations of Events / 98
Memory for Verbal Information / 98
Memory for Visual Information / 99
Importance of Meaning to Memory / 101
Implications of Good Memory for Meaning / 103
Implications: Mnemonic techniques for remembering vocabulary
items / 104
u Propositional Representations / 104
Amodal Versus Perceptual Symbol Systems / 106
u Embodied Cognition / 108
u Conceptual Knowledge / 109
Semantic Networks / 110
Schemas / 112
Abstraction Theories Versus Exemplar Theories / 118
Natural Categories and Their Brain Representations / 120
u Conclusions / 122
Chapter 6
Human Memory: Encoding and Storage 124
u Memory and the Brain / 124
u Sensory Memory Holds Information Briefly / 125
Visual Sensory Memory / 125
Auditory Sensory Memory / 126
A Theory of Short-Term Memory / 127
u Working Memory Holds the Information Needed to Perform a
Task / 129
Baddeley’s Theory of Working Memory / 129
The Frontal Cortex and Primate Working Memory / 131
u Activation and Long-Term Memory / 133
An Example of Activation Calculations / 133
Spreading Activation / 135
u Practice and Memory Strength / 137
The Power Law of Learning / 137
Neural Correlates of the Power Law / 139
u Factors Influencing Memory / 141
Elaborative Processing / 141
Techniques for Studying Textual Material / 142
Incidental Versus Intentional Learning / 144
Implications: How does the method of loci help us organize
recall? / 145
Flashbulb Memories / 145
u Conclusions / 148
ANDERSON8e-FM.indd 11 13/09/14 10:04 AM
xii / c o n t e n t s
Chapter 7
Human Memory: Retention and Retrieval 150
u Are Memories Really Forgotten? / 150
u The Retention Function / 152
u How Interference Affects Memory / 154
The Fan Effect: Networks of Associations / 155
The Interfering Effect of Preexisting Memories / 157
The Controversy Over Interference and Decay / 158
An Inhibitory Explanation of Forgetting? / 159
Redundancy Protects Against Interference / 160
u Retrieval and Inference / 161
Plausible Retrieval / 162
The Interaction of Elaboration and Inferential Reconstruction / 164
Eyewitness Testimony and the False-Memory Controversy / 165
Implications: How have advertisers used knowledge of cognitive
psychology? / 166
False Memories and the Brain / 167
u Associative Structure and Retrieval / 169
The Effects of Encoding Context / 169
The Encoding-Specificity Principle / 172
u The Hippocampal Formation and Amnesia / 172
u Implicit Versus Explicit Memory / 174
Implicit Versus Explicit Memory in Normal Participants / 175
Procedural Memory / 177
u Conclusions: The Many Varieties of Memory in the Brain / 179
Chapter 8
Problem Solving 181
u The Nature of Problem Solving / 181
A Comparative Perspective on Problem Solving / 181
The Problem-Solving Process: Problem Space
and Search / 183
u Problem-Solving Operators / 186
Acquisition of Operators / 186
Analogy and Imitation / 188
Analogy and Imitation from an Evolutionary and Brain
Perspective / 190
u Operator Selection / 191
The Difference-Reduction Method / 192
Means-Ends Analysis / 194
The Tower of Hanoi Problem / 196
Goal Structures and the Prefrontal Cortex / 198
u Problem Representation / 199
The Importance of the Correct Representation / 199
Functional Fixedness / 201
u Set Effects / 202
Incubation Effects / 204
Insight / 206
ANDERSON8e-FM.indd 12 13/09/14 10:04 AM
c o n t e n t s / xiii
u Conclusions / 207
u Appendix: Solutions / 208
Chapter 9
Expertise 210
u Brain Changes with Skill Acquisition / 211
u General Characteristics of Skill Acquisition / 211
Three Stages of Skill Acquisition / 211
Power-Law Learning / 212
u The Nature of Expertise / 215
Proceduralization / 215
Tactical Learning / 217
Strategic Learning / 218
Problem Perception / 221
Pattern Learning and Memory / 223
Implications: Computers achieve chess expertise differently than
humans / 226
Long-Term Memory and Expertise / 226
The Role of Deliberate Practice / 227
u Transfer of Skill / 229
u Theory of Identical Elements / 231
u Educational Implications / 232
Intelligent Tutoring Systems / 233
u Conclusions / 235
Chapter 10
Reasoning 237
u Reasoning and the Brain / 238
u Reasoning About Conditionals / 239
Evaluation of Conditional Arguments / 240
Evaluating Conditional Arguments in a Larger Context / 241
The Wason Selection Task / 242
Permission Interpretation of the Conditional / 243
Probabilistic Interpretation of the Conditional / 244
Final Thoughts on the Connective If / 246
u Deductive Reasoning: Reasoning About Quantifiers / 246
The Categorical Syllogism / 246
The Atmosphere Hypothesis / 248
Limitations of the Atmosphere Hypothesis / 249
Process Explanations / 250
u Inductive Reasoning and Hypothesis Testing / 251
Hypothesis Formation / 252
Hypothesis Testing / 253
Scientific Discovery / 255
Implications: How convincing is a 90% result? / 256
u Dual-Process Theories / 257
u Conclusions / 258
ANDERSON8e-FM.indd 13 13/09/14 10:04 AM
xiv / c o n t e n t s
Chapter 11
Decision Making 260
u The Brain and Decision Making / 260
u Probabilistic Judgment / 262
Bayes’s Theorem / 262
Base-Rate Neglect / 264
Conservatism / 265
Correspondence to Bayes’s Theorem with Experience / 266
Judgments of Probability / 268
The Adaptive Nature of the Recognition Heuristic / 270
u Making Decisions Under Uncertainty / 271
Framing Effects / 273
Implications: Why are adolescents more likely to make bad
decisions? / 276
Neural Representation of Subjective Utility and Probability / 277
u Conclusions / 279
Chapter 12
Language Structure 281
u Language and the Brain / 281
u The Field of Linguistics / 283
Productivity and Regularity / 283
Linguistic Intuitions / 284
Competence Versus Performance / 285
u Syntactic Formalisms / 286
Phrase Structure / 286
Pause Structure in Speech / 287
Speech Errors / 288
Transformations / 290
u What Is So Special About Human Language? / 291
Implications: Ape language and the ethics
of experimentation / 293
u The Relation Between Language and Thought / 294
The Behaviorist Proposal / 294
The Whorfian Hypothesis of Linguistic Determinism / 295
Does Language Depend on Thought? / 297
The Modularity of Language / 299
u Language Acquisition / 300
The Issue of Rules and the Case of Past Tense / 303
The Quality of Input / 305
A Critical Period for Language Acquisition / 306
Language Universals / 308
ANDERSON8e-FM.indd 14 13/09/14 10:04 AM
c o n t e n t s / xv
The Constraints on Transformations / 310
Parameter Setting / 310
u Conclusions: The Uniqueness of Language: A Summary / 311
Chapter 13
Language Comprehension 313
u Brain and Language Comprehension / 314
u Parsing / 314
Constituent Structure / 314
Immediacy of Interpretation / 317
The Processing of Syntactic Structure / 318
Semantic Considerations / 320
The Integration of Syntax and Semantics / 321
Neural Indicants of Syntactic and Semantic Processing / 322
Ambiguity / 323
Neural Indicants of the Processing of Transient Ambiguity / 324
Lexical Ambiguity / 326
Modularity Compared with Interactive Processing / 326
Implications: Intelligent chatterboxes / 328
u Utilization / 329
Bridging Versus Elaborative Inferences / 329
Inference of Reference / 330
Pronominal Reference / 331
Negatives / 333
u Text Processing / 334
u Situation Models / 335
u Conclusions / 336
Chapter 14 Differences in C
Individual Differences in Cognition 338
u Cognitive Development / 338
Piaget’s Stages of Development / 340
Conservation / 341
What Develops? / 343
The Empiricist-Nativist Debate / 345
Increased Mental Capacity / 347
Increased Knowledge / 349
Cognition and Aging / 350
Summary for Cognitive Development / 353
u Psychometric Studies of Cognition / 353
Intelligence Tests / 353
Factor Analysis / 355
ANDERSON8e-FM.indd 15 13/09/14 10:04 AM
Implications: Does IQ determine success in life? / 356
Reasoning Ability / 358
Verbal Ability / 360
Spatial Ability / 361
Conclusions from Psychometric Studies / 362
u Conclusions / 363
3
Glossary 365
References 373
Name Index 393
Subject Index 399
xvi / c o n t e n t s
ANDERSON8e-FM.indd 16 13/09/14 10:04 AM
xvii
Preface
this is the eighth edition of my textbook—a new edition has appeared every
5 years. The first edition was written more than half of my life ago. In
writing this preface I thought I would take the opportunity to reflect on where
the field has been, where it is, where it is going, and how this is reflected in
the book. One piece of evidence to inform this reflection is the chart showing
number of citations to publication in each of the last 100 years. I have not felt
the need to throw out references to classic studies that still serve their purpose,
and so this provides one measure of how research over the years serves to
shape my conception of the field—a conception that I think is shared by many
researchers. There are a couple of fairly transparent historical discontinuities in
that graph and a couple of not so apparent changes:
● There are very few citations to papers before the end of World War II, and
then there is a rapid rise in citations. Essentially, the Greatest Generation
came back from the war, broke the behaviorist grip on psychology, and
started the cognitive revolution. The growing number of citations reflects
the rise of a new way of studying and understanding the human mind.
● The number of citations basically asymptotes about the time of the publi-
cation of the first edition of this textbook in 1980. Being a baby boomer,
when I came into the field, I was able to start with the framework that the
pioneers had established and organize it into a coherent structure that
appeared in the first edition.
● The relatively stable level of citations since 1980 hides a major development
in the field that began to really establish itself in the 1990s. Early research
had focused on behavioral measures because it seemed impossible to ethi-
cally study what was in the human brain. However, new techniques in neu-
ral imaging arose that allowed us to complement that research with neural
measures. This is complemented by research on animals, particularly
primates.
● There is a dip over the last 5 years. This reflects the need to properly digest
the significance of the most current research. I could be wrong, but I think
we are on the verge of significant change brought about by our ability to
mine large data sets. We are now able to detect significant patterns in the
huge amounts of data we can collect about people, both in terms of the
activity of their brains and their activities in the world. Some of this comes
out in the textbook’s discussion of the most recent research.
Each instructor will use a textbook in his or her own way, but when I teach
from this book, I impose the following structure on it:
● The introductory chapter provides a preparation for understanding what
is in the subsequent chapters, and the last chapter provides a reflection on
how all the pieces fit together in human cognition and intelligence.
ANDERSON8e-FM.indd 17 13/09/14 10:04 AM
xviii / P r e fa c e
● The meat of the textbook is the middle 12 chapters, and they naturally
organize themselves into 6 thematic pairs on perception and attention,
knowledge representation, memory, problem solving, reasoning and deci-
sion making, and language.
● There is a major break between the first three pairs and the last three pairs.
As I tell my class at that point: “Most of what we have discussed up to this
point is true of all primates. Most of what we are going to talk about is only
true of humans.”
u New in the Eighth Edition
This new edition discusses current and exciting themes in cognitive psychology.
One of these themes is the increasing cognitive capacity of modern tech-
nology. Chapter 1 opens with discussion of Watson’s performance on Jeopardy,
Apple’s Siri, and Ray Kurzwell’s prophesy of the impending Singularity. Chapter
2 discusses new technological developments in character and face recognition.
Chapter 4 describes new “mind-reading” research that uses fMRI to reconstruct
the thoughts and images of people.
A complementary theme explores the bounds on human intellectual capacity.
Chapter 5 describes new research on people with near-perfect autobiographical
memory, as well as everyone’s high capacity to remember images. Chapter 6
examines new research on the special benefits of self-testing, and new research
on flashbulb memories for 9/11. Chapter 8 describes new research on the role of
worked examples in acquiring problem-solving operators. Chapter 9 examines new
research on the general cognitive benefits of working-memory practice and video-
game playing, as well as the controversy surrounding these results. The final chapter
explores new theories of the interaction between genetic factors and environmental
factors in shaping intelligence.
A third theme is the increasing ability of neuroscience to penetrate the
mind. Chapter 3 describes research relating visual neglect to deficits in concep-
tual judgments about number order and alphabetical order. Chapter 5 discusses
the new work in neurosemantics. Chapter 6 describes new meta-analyses on the
regions of the brain that support working memory. Chapter 11 describes the
evidence connecting the response of the dopamine neurons to theories of rein-
forcement learning. Chapter 14 describes the research showing that single neu-
rons are tuned to recognize specific numbers of objects.
Then there are introductions to some of the new theoretical frameworks
that are shaping modern research. Chapter 7 describes the current state of
research on retrieval-induced interference. Chapter 10 describes dual-process
theories of reasoning. Bayesian analyses are playing an increasing role in our
35
30
25
20
15
10
5
Nu
m
be
r o
f c
ita
tio
ns
0
19
10
19
20
19
30
19
40
19
50
19
60
19
70
19
80
19
90
20
00
20
10
ANDERSON8e-FM.indd 18 13/09/14 10:04 AM
P r e fa c e / xix
field, and Chapter 12 describes one example of how the world’s kinship terms
are optimally chosen for communicative purposes. Chapter 13 describes the
role of situation models in text comprehension.
u New Teaching and Learning Resources
Our newest set of online materials, LaunchPad Solo, provides tools and
topically relevant content that you need to teach your class. LaunchPad Solo for
Cognitive Psychology includes 45 experiments that helped establish the core of
our understanding of cognitive functions. Taking the role of experimenter, you
will work in a first-of-its-kind interactive environment that lets you manipulate
variables, collect data, and analyze results.
Instructor resources include an Instructor’s Manual, computerized test bank,
and Illustration and Lecture slides.
Acknowledgments
There are three individuals who have really helped me in the writing of this
edition. In addition to all of her other responsibilities, my Senior Acquisitions
Editor Christine Cardone has provided a great set of reviews that helped me
appreciate both how others see the directions of the field and how others teach
from this text. The Development Editor, Len Neufeld, did a terrific job fact-
checking every bit of the book and providing it with a long overdue line-by-line
polishing. Finally, my son, Abraham Anderson, went through all of the text,
holding back no punches about how it registers with his generation.
In addition to Chris Cardone and Len Neufeld, I also acknowledge the
assistance of the following people from Worth: Kerry O’Shaughnessy, Project
Editor; Catherine Michaelsen, Assistant Editor; Sarah Segal, Production Manager;
Janice Donnola, Illustration Coordinator; Bianca Moscatelli, Photo Editor; Tracey
Kuehn, Director of Editing, Design, and Media Production; Anthony Casciano,
Associate Media Editor; Diane Blume, Art Director; and Vicki Tomaselli and
Dreamit Inc., who designed the cover and the interior, respectively.
I am grateful for the many comments and suggestions of the reviewers
of this eighth edition: Erik Altman, Michigan State University; Walter Beagley,
Alma College; Kyle Cave, University of Massachusetts; Chung-Yiu Peter Chiu,
University of Cincinnati; Michael Dodd, University of Nebraska, Lincoln; Jonathan
Evans, University of Plymouth; Evan Heit, University of California, Merced; Arturo
Hernandez, University of Houston; Daniel Jacobson, Eastern Michigan University;
Mike Oaksford, Birkbeck College, University of London; Thomas Palmeri, Vanderbilt
University; Jacqueline Park, Vanguard University; David Neil Rapp, Northwestern
University; Christian Schunn, University of Pittsburgh; Scott Slotnick, Boston College;
Niels Taatgen, University of Groningen; Peter Vishton, College of William & Mary;
and Xiaowei Zhao, Emmanuel College.
I would also like to thank the people who read the first seven editions of
my book, because much of their earlier influence remains: Chris Allan, Nancy
Alvarado, Jim Anderson, James Beale, Irv Biederman, Liz Bjork, Stephen
Blessing, Lyle Bourne, John Bransford, Bruce Britton, Tracy Brown, Gregory
Burton, Robert Calfee, Pat Carpenter, Bill Chase, Nick Chater, Micki Chi, Bill
Clancy, Chuck Clifton, Lynne Cooper, Gus Craik, Bob Crowder, Ann Devlin,
Mike Dodd, Thomas Donnelly, David Elmes, K. Anders Ericsson, Martha
Farah, Ronald Finke, Ira Fischler, Susan Fiske, Michael Gazzaniga, Ellen Gagné,
Rochel Gelman, Barbara Greene, Alyse Hachey, Dorothea Halpert, Lynn
Hasher, Geoff Hinton, Kathy Hirsh-Pasek, Buz Hunt, Louna Hernandez-Jarvis,
Cognitive Psychology
ANDERSON8e-FM.indd 19 13/09/14 10:04 AM
xx / P r e fa c e
Robert Hines, Robert Hoffman, Martha Hubertz, Lumei Hui, Laree Huntsman,
Lynn Hyah, Earl Hunt, Andrew Johnson, Philip Johnson-Laird, Marcel Just,
Stephen Keele, Walter Kintsch, Dave Klahr, Steve Kosslyn, Al Lesgold, Clayton
Lewis, Beth Loftus, Marsha Lovett, Maryellen MacDonald, Michael McGuire,
Brian MacWhinney, Dominic Massaro, Jay McClelland, Karen J. Mitchell, John
D. Murray, Al Newell, E. Slater Newman, Don Norman, Gary Olson, Allan
Paivio, Thomas Palmieri, Nancy Pennington, Jane Perlmutter, Peter Polson,
Jim Pomerantz, Mike Posner, Roger Ratcliff, Lynne Reder, Steve Reed,
Russ Revlin, Phillip Rice, Lance Rips, Roddy Roediger, Daniel Schacter, Jay
Schumacher, Miriam Schustack, Terry Sejnowski, Bob Siegler, Murray Singer,
Ed Smith, Kathy Spoehr, Bob Sternberg, Roman Taraban, Charles Tatum,
Joseph Thompson, Dave Tieman, Tom Trabasso, Henry Wall, Charles A.
Weaver, Patricia de Winstanley, Larry Wood, and Maria Zaragoza.
ANDERSON8e-FM.indd 20 13/09/14 10:04 AM
1
1
The Science of Cognition
Our species is called Homo sapiens, or “human, the wise,” reflecting the general
belief that our superior thought processes are what distinguish us from other
animals. Today we all know that the brain is the organ of the human mind, but the
connection between the brain and the mind was not always known. For instance, in
a colossal misassociation, the Greek philosopher Aristotle localized the mind in the
heart. He thought the function of the brain was to cool the blood. Cognitive psy-
chology is the science of how the mind is organized to produce intelligent thought
and how the mind is realized in the brain.
This chapter introduces fundamental concepts that set the stage for the rest of
the book by addressing the following questions:
● Why do people study cognitive psychology?
● Where and when did cognitive psychology originate?
● How is the mind realized in the body?
How do the cells in the brain process information?
What parts of the brain are responsible for different functions?
What are the methods for studying the brain?
◆ Motivations for Studying Cognitive
Psychology
Intellectual Curiosity
As with any scientific inquiry, the thirst for knowledge provides much of
the impetus to study cognitive psychology. In this respect, the cognitive
psychologist is like the tinkerer who wants to know how a clock works. The hu-
man mind is particularly fascinating: It displays a remarkable intelligence and
ability to adapt. Yet we are often unaware of the extraordinary aspects of human
cognition. Just as when watching a live television broadcast of a distant news
event we rarely consider the sophisticated technologies that make the broad-
cast possible, we also rarely think about the sophisticated mental processes that
enable us to understand that news event. Cognitive psychologists strive to un-
derstand the mechanisms that make such intellectual sophistication possible.
The inner workings of the human mind are far more intricate than the
most complicated systems of modern technology. For over half a century,
researchers in the field of artificial intelligence (AI) have been attempting to
develop programs that will enable computers to display intelligent behavior.
There have been some notable successes, such as IBM’s Watson that won over
Anderson_8e_Ch01.indd 1 13/09/14 9:32 AM
2 / Chapter 1 T H e S C i e n C e O F C O G n i T i O n
human contestants on Jeopardy and the iPhone personal assistant Siri. Still, AI
researchers realize they are a long way from creating a program that matches
humans in generalized intelligence, with human flexibility in recalling facts,
solving problems, reasoning, learning, and processing language. This failure of
AI to achieve human-level intelligence has become the cause of a great deal of
soul-searching by some of the founders of AI (e.g., McCarthy, 1996; Nilsson,
2005). There is a resurging view that AI needs to pay more attention to how
human thought functions.
There does not appear to be anything magical about human intelligence
that would make it impossible to model in a computer. Scientific discovery,
for instance, is often thought of as the ultimate accomplishment of human
intelligence: Scientists supposedly make great leaps of intuition to explain
a puzzling set of data. Formulating a novel scientific theory is supposed
to require both great creativity and special deductive powers. But is this
actually the case? Herbert Simon, who won the 1978 Nobel Prize for his
theoretical work in economics, spent the last 40 years of his life studying
cognitive psychology. Among other things, he focused on the intellectual
accomplishments involved in “doing” science. He and his colleagues (Langley,
Simon, Bradshaw, & Zytkow, 1987) built computer programs to simulate
the problem-solving activities involved in such scientific feats as Kepler’s
discovery of the laws of planetary motion and Ohm’s development of his law
for electric circuits. Simon also examined the processes involved in his own
now-famous scientific discoveries (Simon, 1989). In all cases, he found that
the methods of scientific discovery could be explained in terms of the basic
cognitive processes that we study in cognitive psychology. He wrote that
many of these activities are just well-understood problem-solving processes
(e.g., as covered in Chapters 8 and 9). He says:
Moreover, the insight that is supposed to be required for such work as
discovery turns out to be synonymous with the familiar process of rec-
ognition; and other terms commonly used in the discussion of creative
work—such terms as “judgment,” “creativity,” or even “genius”—appear
to be wholly dispensable or to be definable, as insight is, in terms of
mundane and well-understood concepts. (Simon, 1989, p. 376)
In other words, a detailed look reveals that even the brilliant results of human
genius are produced by basic cognitive processes operating together in complex
ways to produce those brilliant results.1 Most of this book will be devoted to de-
scribing what we know about these basic processes.
■ Great feats of intelligence, such as scientific discovery, are the result
of basic cognitive processes.
Implications for Other Fields
Students and researchers interested in other areas of psychology or social
science have another reason for following developments in cognitive psy-
chology. The basic mechanisms governing human thought are important in
understanding the types of behavior studied by other social sciences. For exam-
ple, an appreciation of how humans think is important to understanding why
certain thought malfunctions occur (clinical psychology), how people behave
with other individuals or in groups (social psychology), how persuasion works
(political science), how economic decisions are made (economics), why certain
1 Weisberg (1986) comes to a similar conclusion.
Anderson_8e_Ch01.indd 2 13/09/14 9:32 AM
T H e H i S TO r y O F C O G n i T i v e P S y C H O l O G y / 3
ways of organizing groups are more effective and stable than others (sociology),
and why natural languages have certain features (linguistics). Cognitive psy-
chology is thus the foundation on which all other social sciences stand, in the
same way that physics is the foundation for the other physical sciences.
Nonetheless, much social science has developed without grounding in
cognitive psychology, for two main reasons. First, the field of cognitive psy-
chology is not that advanced. Second, researchers in other areas of social
science have managed to find other ways to explain the phenomena in which
they are interested. An interesting case in point is economics. Neoclassical
economics, which dominated the last century, tried to predict the behavior of
markets while completely ignoring the cognitive processes of individuals. It
simply assumed that individuals behaved in ways to maximize their wealth.
However, the recently developed field of behavioral economics acknowledges
that the behavior of markets is affected by the flawed decision-making pro-
cesses of individuals—for example, people are willing to pay more for some-
thing when they use a credit card than when they use cash (Simester &
Drazen, 2001). In recognition of the importance of the psychology of deci-
sion making to economics, the cognitive psychologist Daniel Kahneman was
awarded the Nobel Prize for economics in 2002.
■ Cognitive psychology is the foundation for many other areas of
social science.
Practical Applications
Practical applications of the field constitute another key incentive for the study
of cognitive psychology. If we really understood how people acquire knowledge
and intellectual skills and how they perform feats of intelligence, then we would
be able to improve their intellectual training and performance accordingly.
While future applications of psychology hold great promise (Klatzky,
2009), there are a number of current successful applications. For instance,
there has been a long history of research on the reliability of eyewitness
testimony (e.g., Loftus, 1996) that has led to guidelines for law enforcement
personnel (U.S. Department of Justice, 1999). There have also been a number of
applications of basic information processing to the design evaluations of vari-
ous computer-based devices, such as modern flight management systems on
aircraft (John, Patton, Gray, & Morrison, 2012). And there have been a num-
ber of applications to education, including reading instruction (Rayner, Foor-
man, Perfetti, Pesetsky, & Seidenberg, 2002) and computer-based systems for
teaching mathematics (Koedinger & Corbett, 2006). Cognitive psychology is
also making important contributions to our understanding of brain disorders
that reflect abnormal functioning, such as schizophrenia (Cohen & Servan-
Schreiber, 1992) or autism (Dinstein et al., 2012; Just, Keller, & Kana, 2013).
At many points in this book, Implications boxes will reinforce the connec-
tions between research in cognitive psychology and our daily lives.
■ The results from the study of cognitive psychology have practical
implications for our daily lives.
◆ The History of Cognitive Psychology
Cognitive psychology today is a vigorous science producing many interesting
discoveries. However, this productive phase was a long time coming, and it is
important to understand the history of the field that led to its current form.
Anderson_8e_Ch01.indd 3 13/09/14 9:32 AM
4 / Chapter 1 T H e S C i e n C e O F C O G n i T i O n
Early History
In Western civilization, interest in human cognition can be traced to the
ancient Greeks. Plato and Aristotle, in their discussions of the nature and
origin of knowledge, speculated about memory and thought. These early
philosophical discussions eventually developed into a centuries-long debate
between two positions: empiricism, which held that all knowledge comes
from experience, and nativism, which held that children come into the world
with a great deal of innate knowledge. The debate intensified in the 17th, 18th,
and 19th centuries, with such British philosophers as Berkeley, Locke, Hume,
and Mill arguing for the empiricist view and such continental philosophers as
Descartes and Kant propounding the nativist view. Although these arguments
were philosophical at their core, they frequently slipped into psychological
speculations about human cognition.
During this long period of philosophical debate, sciences such as
astronomy, physics, chemistry, and biology developed markedly. Curiously,
however, it was not until the end of the 19th century that the scientific method
was applied to the understanding of human cognition. Certainly, there were no
technical or conceptual barriers to the scientific study of cognitive psychology
earlier. In fact, many cognitive psychology experiments could have been per-
formed and understood in the time of the ancient Greeks. But cognitive
psychology, like many other sciences, suffered because of our egocentric, mys-
tical, and confused attitudes about ourselves and our own nature, which made
it seem inconceivable that the workings of the human mind could be subjected
to scientific analysis. As a consequence, cognitive psychology as a science is less
than 150 years old, and much of the first 100 years was spent freeing ourselves
of the misconceptions that can arise when people engage in such an introverted
enterprise as a scientific study of human cognition. It is a case of the mind
studying itself.
■ Only in the last 150 years has it been realized that human cogni-
tion could be the subject of scientific study rather than philosophical
speculation.
Psychology in Germany: Focus on Introspective
Observation
The date usually cited as the beginning of psychology as a science is 1879,
when Wilhelm Wundt established the first psychology laboratory in Leipzig,
Germany. Wundt’s psychology was cognitive psychology (in contrast to other
major divisions, such as comparative, clinical, or social psychology), although
he had far-ranging views on many subjects. Wundt, his students, and many
other early psychologists used a method of inquiry called introspection,
in which highly trained observers reported the contents of their own
consciousness under carefully controlled conditions. The basic assumption was
that the workings of the mind should be open to self-observation. Drawing on
the empiricism of the British philosophers, Wundt and others believed that very
intense self-inspection would be able to identify the primitive experiences out
of which thought arose. Thus, to develop a theory of cognition, a psychologist
had only to explain the contents of introspective reports.
Let us consider a sample introspective experiment. Mayer and Orth (1901)
had their participants perform a free-association task. The experimenters spoke
a word to the participants and then measured the amount of time the partici-
pants took to generate responses to the word. Participants then reported all
their conscious experiences from the moment of stimulus presentation until the
Anderson_8e_Ch01.indd 4 13/09/14 9:32 AM
T H e H i S TO r y O F C O G n i T i v e P S y C H O l O G y / 5
moment of their response. To get a feeling for this method, try to come up with
an association for each of the following words; after each association, think
about the contents of your consciousness during the period between reading
the word and making your association.
coat book
dot bowl
In this experiment, many participants reported rather indescribable
conscious experiences, not always seeming to involve sensations, images,
or other concrete experiences. This result started a debate over the issue of
whether conscious experience could really be devoid of concrete content. As
we will see in Chapters 4 and 5, modern cognitive psychology has made real
progress on this issue, but not by using introspective methods.
■ At the turn of the 20th century, German psychologists tried to use
a method of inquiry called introspection to study the workings of the
mind.
What does cognitive
psychology tell us about
how to study effectively?
Cognitive psychology has identi-
fied methods that enable humans
to read and remember a textbook
like this one. This research will be
described in Chapters 6 and 13. The
key idea is that it is crucial to identify
the main points of each section of
a text and to understand how these
main points are organized. i have
tried to help you do this by ending
each section with a short summary
sentence identifying its main point.
i recommend that you use the fol-
lowing study technique to help
you remember the material. This
approach is a variant of the PQ4r
(Preview, Question, read, reflect,
recite, review) method discussed in
Chapter 6.
1. Preview the chapter. read
the section headings and
summary statements to get
a general sense of where
the chapter is going and
how much material will be
devoted to each topic. Try to
understand each summary
statement, and ask yourself
whether this is something you
knew or believed before read-
ing the text.
Then, for each section of the book,
go through the following steps:
2. For each section of the book,
make up a study question by
looking at the section heading
and thinking of a related ques-
tion that you will try to answer
while you read the text. For
instance, in the section intel-
lectual Curiosity, you might
ask yourself, “What is there to
be curious about in cognitive
psychology?” This will give you
an active goal to pursue while
you read the section.
3. read the section to under-
stand it and answer your
question. Try to relate what
you are reading to situations
in your own life. in the sec-
tion intellectual Curiosity, for
example, you might try to
think of scientific discoveries
you have read about that
seemed to require creativity.
4. At the end of each section,
read the summary and ask
yourself whether that is the
main point you got out of
the section and why it is the
main point. Sometimes you
may need to go back and
reread some parts of the
section.
At the end of the chapter, engage in
the following review process:
5. Go through the text, men-
tally reviewing the main
points. Try to answer the
questions you devised in
step 2, plus any other ques-
tions that occur to you.
Often, when preparing for
an exam, it is a good idea
to ask yourself what kind of
exam questions you would
make up for the chapter.
As we will learn in later chapters,
such a study strategy improves
one’s memory of the text.
I m p l I c a t I o n s
▼
Ha
nq
ua
n
Ch
en
/G
et
ty
Im
ag
es
▲
Anderson_8e_Ch01.indd 5 13/09/14 9:32 AM
6 / Chapter 1 T H e S C i e n C e O F C O G n i T i O n
Psychology in America: Focus on Behavior
Wundt’s introspective psychology was not well accepted in America. Early
American psychologists engaged in what they called “introspection,” but it was
not the intense analysis of the contents of the mind practiced by the Germans.
Rather, it was largely an armchair avocation in which self-inspection was casual
and reflective rather than intense and analytic. William James’s Principles
of Psychology (1890) reflects the best of this tradition, and many of the pro-
posals in this work are still relevant today. The mood of America was deter-
mined by the philosophical doctrines of pragmatism and functionalism. Many
psychologists of the time were involved in education, and there was a demand
for an “action-oriented” psychology that was capable of practical application.
The intellectual climate in America was not receptive to the psychology from
Germany that focused on such questions as whether or not the contents of
consciousness were sensory.
One of the important figures of early American scientific psychology
was Edward Thorndike, who developed a theory of learning that was directly
applicable to classrooms. Thorndike was interested in such basic problems
as the effects of reward and punishment on the rate of learning. To him, con-
scious experience was just excess baggage that could be largely ignored. Many
of his experiments were done on animals, research that involved fewer ethical
constraints than research on humans. Thorndike was probably just as happy
that such participants could not introspect.
While introspection was being ignored at the turn of the century in
America, it was getting into trouble on the continent. Various laboratories were
reporting different types of introspections—each type matching the theory of
the particular laboratory from which it emanated. It was becoming clear that
introspection did not give one a clear window into the workings of the mind.
Much that was important in cognitive functioning was not open to conscious
experience. These two factors—the “irrelevance” of the introspective method
and its apparent contradictions—laid the groundwork for the great behaviorist
revolution in American psychology that occurred around 1920. John Watson
and other behaviorists led a fierce attack not only on introspectionism but also
on any attempt to develop a theory of mental operations. Behaviorism held that
psychology was to be entirely concerned with external behavior and was not to
try to analyze the workings of the mind that underlay this behavior:
Behaviorism claims that consciousness is neither a definite nor
a usable concept. The Behaviorist, who has been trained always
as an experimentalist, holds further that belief in the existence of
consciousness goes back to the ancient days of superstition and magic.
(Watson, 1930, p. 2)
The Behaviorist began his own formulation of the problem of
psychology by sweeping aside all medieval conceptions. He dropped
from his scientific vocabulary all subjective terms such as sensation,
perception, image, desire, purpose, and even thinking and emotion as
they were subjectively defined. (Watson, 1930, pp. 5–6)
The behaviorist program and the issues it spawned pushed research on
cognition into the background of American psychology. The rat supplanted the
human as the principal laboratory subject, and psychology turned to finding
out what could be learned by studying animal learning and motivation. Quite
a bit was discovered, but little was of direct relevance to cognitive psychology.
Perhaps the most important lasting contribution of behaviorism is a set of
sophisticated and rigorous techniques and principles for experimental study in
all fields of psychology, including cognitive psychology.
Anderson_8e_Ch01.indd 6 13/09/14 9:32 AM
T H e H i S TO r y O F C O G n i T i v e P S y C H O l O G y / 7
Behaviorism was not as dominant in Europe. Psychologists such as
Frederick Bartlett in England, Alexander Luria in the Soviet Union, and
Jean Piaget in Switzerland were pursuing ideas that are still important in
modern cognitive psychology. Cognitive psychology was an active research topic
in Germany, but much of it was lost in the Nazi turmoil. A number of German
psychologists immigrated to America and brought Gestalt psychology with
them. Gestalt psychology claimed that the activity of the brain and the mind
was more than the sum of its parts. This conflicted with the introspectionist
program in Germany that tried to analyze conscious thought into its parts. In
America, Gestalt psychologists found themselves in conflict with behaviorism
on this point. However, they were also criticized for being concerned with men-
tal structure at all. In America, Gestalt psychologists received the most atten-
tion for their claims about animal learning, and they were the standard targets
for the behaviorist critiques, although some Gestalt psychologists became quite
prominent. For example, the Gestalt psychologist Wolfgang Kohler was elected
to the presidency of the American Psychological Association. Although not a
Gestalt psychologist, Edward Tolman was an American psychologist who did
his research on animal learning and anticipated many ideas of modern cogni-
tive psychology. Tolman’s ideas were also frequently the target for criticism by
the dominant behaviorist psychologists, although his work was harder to dismiss
because he spoke the language of behaviorism.
In retrospect, it is hard to understand how American behaviorists could
have taken such an anti-mental stand and clung to it for so long. The unreli-
ability of introspection did not mean that a theory of internal mental structure
and process could not be developed, only that other methods were required
(consider the analogy with physics, for example, where a theory of atomic
structure was developed, although that structure could only be inferred, not
directly observed). A theory of internal structure makes understanding human
beings much easier, and the successes of modern cognitive psychology show
that understanding mental structures and processes is critical to understanding
human cognition.
In both the introspectionist and behaviorist programs, we see the human
mind struggling with the effort to understand itself. The introspectionists held a
naïve belief in the power of self-observation. The behaviorists were so afraid of
falling prey to subjective fallacies that they refused to let themselves think about
mental processes. Current cognitive psychologists seem to be much more at ease
with their subject matter. They have a relatively detached attitude toward human
cognition and approach it much as they would any other complex system.
■ Behaviorism, which dominated American psychology in the first
half of the 20th century, rejected the analysis of the workings of the
mind to explain behavior.
The Cognitive Revolution: AI, Information Theory,
and Linguistics
Cognitive psychology as we know it today took form in the two decades
between 1950 and 1970, in the cognitive revolution that overthrew behavior-
ism. Three main influences account for its modern development. The first was
research on human performance, which was given a great boost during World
War II when governments badly needed practical information about how
to train soldiers to use sophisticated equipment and how to deal with prob-
lems such as the breakdown of attention under stress. Behaviorism offered no
help with such practical issues. Although the work during the war had a very
Anderson_8e_Ch01.indd 7 13/09/14 9:32 AM
8 / Chapter 1 T H e S C i e n C e O F C O G n i T i O n
practical bent, the issues it raised stayed with psychologists when they went back
to their academic laboratories after the war. The work of the British psychologist
Donald Broadbent at the Applied Psychology Research Unit in Cambridge was
probably the most influential in integrating ideas from human performance re-
search with new ideas that were developing in an area called information theory.
Information theory is an abstract way of analyzing the processing of informa-
tion. Broadbent and other psychologists, such as George Miller, Fred Attneave,
and Wendell Garner, initially developed these ideas with respect to perception
and attention, but such analyses soon pervaded all of cognitive psychology.
The second influence, which was closely related to the development of the
information-processing approach, was developments in computer science, par-
ticularly AI, which tries to get computers to behave intelligently, as noted above.
Allen Newell and Herbert Simon, both at Carnegie Mellon University, spent
most of their lives educating cognitive psychologists about the implications of
AI (and educating workers in AI about the implications of cognitive psychol-
ogy). Although the direct influence of AI-based theories on cognitive psychol-
ogy has always been minimal, its indirect influence has been enormous. A host
of concepts have been taken from computer science and used in psychological
theories. Probably more important, observing how we can analyze the intel-
ligent behavior of a machine has largely liberated us from our inhibitions and
misconceptions about analyzing our own intelligence.
The third influence on cognitive psychology was linguistics, which
studies the structure of language. In the 1950s, Noam Chomsky, a linguist
at the Massachusetts Institute of Technology, began to develop a new mode
of analyzing the structure of language. His work showed that language was
much more complex than had previously been believed and that many of the
prevailing behaviorist formulations were incapable of explaining these com-
plexities. Chomsky’s linguistic analyses proved critical in enabling cognitive
psychologists to fight off the prevailing behaviorist conceptions. George Miller,
at Harvard University in the 1950s and early 1960s, was instrumental in bring-
ing these linguistic analyses to the attention of psychologists and in identifying
new ways of studying language.
Cognitive psychology has grown rapidly since the 1950s. A milestone was
the publication of Ulric Neisser’s Cognitive Psychology in 1967. This book gave
a new legitimacy to the field. It consisted of 6 chapters on perception and atten-
tion and 4 chapters on language, memory, and thought. Neisser’s chapter divi-
sion contrasts sharply with this book’s, which has only 2 chapters on perception
and attention and 10 on language, memory, and thought. My chapter division
reflects a growing emphasis on higher mental processes. Following Neisser’s
work, another important event was the launch of the journal Cognitive Psychol-
ogy in 1970. This journal has done much to define the field.
In the 1970s, a related new field called cognitive science emerged; it at-
tempts to integrate research efforts from psychology, philosophy, linguistics,
neuroscience, and AI. This field can be dated from the appearance of the journal
Cognitive Science in 1976, which is the main publication of the Cognitive Science
Society. The fields of cognitive psychology and cognitive science overlap. Speak-
ing generally, cognitive science makes greater use of such methods as logical
analysis and the computer simulation of cognitive processes, whereas cognitive
psychology relies heavily on experimental techniques for studying behavior that
grew out of the behaviorist era. This book draws on all methods but makes most
use of cognitive psychology’s experimental methodology.
■ Cognitive psychology broke away from behaviorism in response to
developments in information theory, AI, and linguistics.
Anderson_8e_Ch01.indd 8 13/09/14 9:32 AM
T H e H i S TO r y O F C O G n i T i v e P S y C H O l O G y / 9
Information-Processing Analyses
The factors described in the previous sections of this chapter have converged
in the information-processing approach to studying human cognition, and
this has become the dominant approach in cognitive psychology. The infor-
mation-processing approach attempts to analyze cognition as a set of steps for
processing an abstract entity called “information.” Probably the best way to ex-
plain this approach is to describe a classic example of it.
In a very influential paper published in 1966, Saul Sternberg described an
experimental task and proposed a theoretical account of what people were doing
in that task. In what has come to be called the Sternberg paradigm, participants
were shown a small number of digits, such as “3 9 7,” to keep in mind. Then they
were shown a probe digit and asked whether it was in the memory set, and they
had to answer as quickly as possible. For example, 9 would be a positive probe
for the “3 9 7” set; 6 would be a negative probe. Sternberg varied the number
of digits in the memory set from 1 to 6 and measured how quickly participants
could make this judgment. Figure 1.1 shows his results as a function of the size
of the memory set. Data are plotted separately for positive probes, or targets,
and for negative probes, or foils. Participants could make these judgments quite
quickly; latencies varied from 400 to 600 milliseconds (ms)—a millisecond is a
thousandth of a second. Sternberg found a nearly linear relationship between
judgment time and the size of the memory set. As shown in Figure 1.1, partici-
pants took about 38 ms extra to judge each digit in the set.
Sternberg’s account of how participants made these judgments was very
influential; it exemplified what an abstract information-processing theory is
like. His explanation is illustrated in Figure 1.2. Sternberg assumed that when
participants saw a probe stimulus such as a 9, they went through the series
of information-processing stages illustrated in that figure. First the stimu-
lus was encoded. Then the stimulus was compared to each digit in the mem-
ory set. Sternberg assumed that it took 38 ms to complete each one of these
comparisons, which accounted for the slope of the line in Figure 1.1. Then
the participant had to decide on a response and finally generate it. Sternberg
showed that different variables would influence each of these information-
processing stages. Thus, if he degraded the stimulus quality by making the
probe harder to read, participants took longer to make their judgments. This
did not affect the slope of the Figure 1.1 line, however, because it involved only
the stage of stimulus perception in Figure 1.2. Similarly,
if he biased participants to say yes or no, the decision-
making stage, but not other stages, was affected.
It is worth noting the ways in which Sternberg’s
theory exemplifies a classic abstract information-
processing account:
1. Information processing is discussed without any
reference to the brain.
2. The processing of the information has a highly sym-
bolic character. For example, his theory describes the
human system as comparing the symbol 9 against the
symbol 3, without considering how these symbols
might be represented in the brain.
3. The processing of information can be compared to
the way computers process information. (In fact,
Sternberg used the computer metaphor to justify his
theory.)
4. The measurement of time to make a judgment is a
critical variable, because the information processing is
FIGURE 1.1 The time needed
to recognize a digit increases
with the number of items in the
memory set. The straight line
represents the linear function that
fits the data best. (Data from
S. Sternberg, 1969.)
400
450
500
600
650
550
0
1 2 3 4 5 6 7
Size (s ) of memory set
Time = 397 + 38 s
Re
ac
tio
n
tim
e
(m
s)
Targets
Foils
Sternberg Memory
Search
Anderson_8e_Ch01.indd 9 13/09/14 9:32 AM
10 / Chapter 1 T H e S C i e n C e O F C O G n i T i O n
conceived to be taking place in discrete stages. Flowcharts such as the one in
Figure 1.2 have been a very popular means of expressing the steps of infor-
mation processing.
Each of these four features listed above reflects a kind of narrowness in the
classic information-processing approach to human cognition. Cognitive psy-
chologists have gradually broadened their approach as they have begun to deal
with more complex phenomena and as they have begun to pay more attention
to the nature of information processing in the brain. For instance, this textbook
has evolved over its editions to reflect this shift.
■ Information-processing analysis breaks a cognitive task down into
a set of abstract information-processing steps.
Cognitive Neuroscience
Over the centuries there has been a lot of debate about the possible relationship
between the mind and the body. Many philosophers, such as Rene Descartes,
have advocated a position called dualism, which posits that the mind and the
body are separate kinds of entities. Although very few scientific psychologists
believe in dualism, until recently many believed that brain activity was too
obscure to provide a basis for understanding human cognition. Most of the re-
search in cognitive psychology had relied on behavioral methods, and most of
the theorizing was of the abstract information-processing sort. However, with
the steady development of knowledge about the brain and methods for studying
brain activity, barriers to understanding the mind by studying the brain are
slowly being eliminated, and brain processes are now being considered in almost
all analyses of human cognition. The field of cognitive neuroscience is devoted
to the study of how cognition is realized in the brain, with exciting new findings
even in the study of the most complex thought processes. The remainder of
this chapter will be devoted to describing some of the neuroscience knowledge
and methods that now inform the study of human cognition, enabling us to see
how cognition unfolds in the brain (for example, at the end of this chapter I will
describe a study of the neural processes that are involved as one solves a math-
ematical equation).
■ Cognitive neuroscience is developing methods that enable us to un-
derstand the neural basis of cognition.
◆ Information Processing: The Communicative
Neurons
The brain is just one part of the nervous system, which also includes the various
sensory systems that gather information from other parts of the body and the
motor systems that control movement. In some cases, considerable information
processing takes place outside the brain. From an information-processing point
FIGURE 1.2 Sternberg’s
analysis of the sequence
of information-processing
stages in his task.
9 Perceive
stimulus
Yes9 = 3? 9 = 9? 9 = 7? Make
decision
Generate
response
Anderson_8e_Ch01.indd 10 13/09/14 9:32 AM
i n F O r m AT i O n P r O C e S S i n G : T H e C O m m u n i C AT i v e n e u r O n S / 11
of view, neurons are the most important components of the nervous system.2
A neuron is a cell that receives and transmits signals through electrochemical
activity. The human brain contains approximately 100 billion neurons, each
of which may have roughly the processing capability of a small computer. A
considerable fraction of these 100 billion neurons are active simultaneously
and do much of their information processing through interactions with one
another. Imagine the information-processing power in 100 billion interacting
computers! On the other hand, there are many tasks, such as finding square
roots, at which a simple calculator can outperform all 100 billion neurons.
Comprehending the strengths and weaknesses of the human nervous system is
a major goal in understanding the nature of human cognition.
The Neuron
Neurons come in a wide variety of shapes and sizes, depending on their exact
location and function. (Figure 1.3 illustrates some of this variety.) There is,
however, a generally accepted notion of what the prototypical neuron is like,
and individual neurons match up with this prototype to greater or lesser
degrees. This prototype is illustrated in Figure 1.4. The main body of the neu-
ron is called the soma. Typically, the soma is 5 to 100 micrometers (μm) in
diameter. Attached to the soma are short branches called dendrites, and
extending from the soma is a long tube called the axon. The axon can vary in
length from a few millimeters to a meter.
Axons provide the fixed paths by which neurons communicate with one
another. The axon of one neuron extends toward the dendrites of other neu-
rons. At its end, the axon branches into a large number of arborizations.
Each arborization ends in terminal boutons that almost make contact with
the dendrite of another neuron. The gap separating the terminal bouton and
the dendrite is typically in the range of 10 to 50 nanometers (nm). This near
contact between axon and dendrite is called a synapse. Typically, neurons
communicate by releasing chemicals, called neurotransmitters, from the axon
2 Neurons are by no means the majority of cells in the nervous system. There are many others, such as glial
cells, whose main function is thought to be supportive of the neurons.
FIGURE 1.3 Some of the vari-
ety of neurons: (a) pyramidal
cell; (b) cerebellar Purkinje cell;
(c) motor neuron; (d) sensory
neuron.
Dendrite
Axon
Cell body
Dendrite
Axon
Cell body
Dendrite
Cell body
Myelin sheath
Schwann cell
Neuromuscular
junction
Node
Muscle
Receptor
cell
Peripheral
branch
Central
branch
Cell body
(a) (b) (c) (d)
Anderson_8e_Ch01.indd 11 13/09/14 9:32 AM
12 / Chapter 1 T H e S C i e n C e O F C O G n i T i O n
terminal on one side of the synapse; these chemicals act on the membrane of
the receptor dendrite to change its polarization, or electric potential. The in-
side of the membrane covering the entire neuron tends to be 70 millivolts (mV)
more negative than the outside, due to the greater concentration of negative
chemical ions inside and positive ions outside. The existence of a greater con-
centration of positive sodium ions on the outside of the membrane is particu-
larly important to the functioning of the neuron. Depending on the nature of
the neurotransmitter, the potential difference can decrease or increase. Synapses
that decrease the potential difference are called excitatory, and those that in-
crease the difference are called inhibitory.
The average soma and dendrite have about 1,000 synapses from other
neurons, and the average axon synapses to about 1,000 neurons. The change
in electric potential due to any one synapse is rather small, but the indi-
vidual excitatory and inhibitory effects will accumulate. If there is enough
net excitatory input, the potential difference in the soma can drop sharply.
If the reduction in potential is large enough, a depolarization will occur at
the axon hillock, where the axon joins the soma (see Figure 1.4). This de-
polarization is caused by a rush of positive sodium ions into the inside of
the neuron. The inside of the neuron momentarily (for a millisecond) be-
comes more positive than the outside. This sudden change, called an ac-
tion potential (or spike), will propagate down the axon. That is, the
potential difference will suddenly and momentarily change down the
axon. The rate at which this change travels can vary from 0.5 to 130 m/s,
depending on the characteristics of the axon—such as the degree to which the
axon is covered by a myelin sheath (the more myelination, the faster the trans-
mission). When the nerve impulse reaches the end of the axon, it causes neuro-
transmitters to be released from the terminal boutons, thus continuing the cycle.
To review: Potential changes accumulate on a cell body, reach a threshold,
and cause an action potential to propagate down an axon. This pulse in turn
causes neurotransmitters to be sent from the axon terminal to the body of a dif-
ferent neuron, causing changes in that neuron’s membrane potential. This se-
quence is almost all there is to neural information processing, yet intelligence
arises from this simple system of interactions. The challenge for cognitive neu-
roscience is to understand how.
The time required for this neural communication to complete the path
from one neuron to another is roughly 10 ms—definitely more than 1 ms and
definitely less than 100 ms; the exact speed depends on the characteristics of
the neurons involved. This is much slower than the billions of operations that
FIGURE 1.4 A schematic
representation of a typical
neuron.
Dendrites
Axon
Axon hillock
Myelin sheath
Arborizations
Terminal
boutons
Cell body
(soma)
Nucleus
Anderson_8e_Ch01.indd 12 13/09/14 9:32 AM
i n F O r m AT i O n P r O C e S S i n G : T H e C O m m u n i C AT i v e n e u r O n S / 13
a modern computer can perform in one second. However, there are billions of
these activities occurring simultaneously throughout the brain.
■ Neurons communicate by releasing chemicals, called neurotrans-
mitters, from the axon terminal on one side of the synapse, and these
neurotransmitters act on the membrane of the receptor dendrite to
change its electric potential.
Neural Representation of Information
Two quantities are particularly important to the representation of informa-
tion in the brain. First, as we just saw, the membrane potential can be more
or less negative. Second, the number of action potentials, or nerve impulses,
an axon transmits per second, called its rate of firing, can vary from very few
to upward of 100. The greater the rate of firing, the greater the effect the axon
will have on the cells to which it synapses. We can contrast information rep-
resentation in the brain with information representation in a computer, where
individual memory cells, or bits, can have just one of two values—off (0) or
on (1). A typical computer cell does not have the continuous variation of a
typical neural cell.
We can think of a neuron as having an activation level that corresponds
roughly to the firing rate on the axon or to the degree of depolarization on the
dendrite and soma. Neurons interact by driving up the activation level of other
neurons (excitation) or by driving down their activation level (inhibition). All
neural information processing takes place in terms of these excitatory and in-
hibitory effects; they are what underlies human cognition.
How do neurons represent information? Evidence suggests that individual
neurons respond to specific features of a stimulus. For instance, some neurons
are most active when there is a line in the visual field at a particular angle (as
described in Chapter 2), while other neurons respond to more complex sets of
features. For instance, there are neurons in the monkey brain that appear to be
most responsive to faces (Bruce, Desimone, & Gross, 1981; Desimone, Albright,
Gross, & Bruce, 1984; Perrett, Rolls, & Caan, 1982). It is not possible, however,
that single neurons encode all the concepts and shades of meaning we pos-
sess. Moreover, the firing of a single neuron cannot represent the complexity of
structure in a face.
If a single neuron cannot represent the complexity of our cognition, how are
complex concepts and experiences represented? How can the activity of neurons
represent our concept of baseball; how can it result in our solution of an algebra
problem; how can it result in our feeling of frustration? Similar questions can be
asked of computer programs, which have been shown to be capable of answering
questions about baseball, solving algebra problems, and displaying frustration.
Where in the millions of off-and-on bits in a computer program does the concept
of baseball lie? How does a change in a bit result in the solution of an algebra
problem or in a feeling of frustration? However, these questions fail to see the
forest for the trees. The concepts of a sport, a problem solution, or an emotion
occur in large patterns of bit changes. Similarly, human cognition is achieved
through large patterns of neural activity. One study (Mazoyer et al., 1993)
compared participants who heard random words to participants who heard
words that made nonsense sentences, to participants who heard words that made
coherent sentences. Using methods that will be described shortly, the researchers
measured brain activity. They found activity in more and more regions of the
brain as participants went from hearing words to hearing sentences, to hearing
meaningful stories. This result indicates that our understanding of a meaningful
story involves activity in many regions of the brain.
Anderson_8e_Ch01.indd 13 13/09/14 9:32 AM
14 / Chapter 1 T H e S C i e n C e O F C O G n i T i O n
It is informative to think about how the computer stores information.
Consider a simple case: the spelling of words. Most computers have codes by
which individual patterns of binary values (1s and 0s) represent letters. Table 1.1
illustrates the use of one coding scheme, called ASCII; it contains a pattern of 0s
and 1s that codes the words cognitive psychology.
Similarly, the brain can represent information in terms of patterns of neu-
ral activity rather than simply as cells firing. The code in Table 1.1 includes re-
dundant bits that allow the computer to correct errors should certain bits be
lost (note that each column has an even number of 1s, which reflects the added
bits for redundancy). As in a computer, it seems that the brain codes informa-
tion redundantly, so that even if certain cells are damaged, it can still determine
what the pattern is encoding. It is generally thought that the brain uses schemes
for encoding information and achieving redundancy that are very different
from the ones a computer uses. It also seems that the brain uses a much more
redundant code than a computer does because the behavior of individual neu-
rons is not particularly reliable.
So far, we have talked only about patterns of neural activation. Such pat-
terns, however, are transitory. The brain does not maintain the same pattern
for minutes, let alone days. This means that neural activation patterns cannot
encode our permanent knowledge about the world. It is thought that memo-
ries are encoded by changes in the synaptic connections among neurons. By
changing the synaptic connections, the brain can enable itself to reproduce spe-
cific patterns. Although there is not a great deal of growth of new neurons or
new synapses in the adult, the effectiveness of synapses can change in response
to experience. There is evidence that synaptic connections do change during
learning, with both increased release of neurotransmitters (Kandel & Schwartz,
1984) and increased sensitivity of dendritic receptors (Lynch & Baudry, 1984).
We will discuss some of this research in Chapter 6.
■ Information is represented by patterns of activity across many re-
gions of the brain and by changes in the synaptic connections among
neurons that allow these patterns to be reproduced.
TABLE 1.1 Coding of the Words COGNITIVE PSYCHOLOGY in 7-Bit
ASCii with even Parity
1 1 0 0 1 1 1 0 1
1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1
0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0
0 0 0 0 0 1 0 1 0
0 1 0 1 1 0 1 0 0
0 1 1 1 0 1 0 1 1
1 1 1 1 0 0 0 1 0
1 1 1 0 1 0 1 0 1
0 0 0 1 0 1 1 1 0 0
1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1
0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0
1 1 1 0 0 0 0 0 0 1
0 0 1 0 1 1 1 1 0 1
0 0 0 0 0 1 1 1 1 0
0 1 0 1 0 1 0 1 1 0
0 1 1 1 0 1 0 1 1 1
Anderson_8e_Ch01.indd 14 13/09/14 9:32 AM
O r G A n i z AT i O n O F T H e B r A i n / 15
◆ Organization of the Brain
The central nervous system consists of the brain and the spinal cord. The major
function of the spinal cord is to carry neural messages from the brain to the
muscles, and sensory messages from the body to the brain. Figure 1.5 shows a
cross section of the brain with some of the more prominent neural structures
labeled. The lower parts of the brain are evolutionarily more primitive. The
higher portions are well developed only in the higher species.
Correspondingly, it appears that the lower portions of the brain are respon-
sible for more basic functions. The medulla controls breathing, swallowing,
digestion, and heartbeat. The hypothalamus regulates the expression of basic
drives. The cerebellum plays an important role in motor coordination and vol-
untary movement. The thalamus serves as a relay station for motor and sensory
information from lower areas to the cortex. Although the cerebellum and thala-
mus serve these basic functions, they also have evolved to play an important
role in higher human cognition, as we will discuss later.
The cerebral cortex, or neocortex, is the most recently evolved portion of
the brain. Although it is quite small and primitive in many mammals, it accounts
for a large fraction of the human brain. In the human, the cerebral cortex can be
thought of as a rather thin neural sheet with a surface area of about 2,500 cm2.
To fit this neural sheet into the skull, it has to be highly convoluted. The large
amount of folding and wrinkling of the cortex is one of the striking physical dif-
ferences between the human brain and the brains of lower mammals. A bulge of
the cortex is called a gyrus, and a crease passing between gyri is called a sulcus.
The neocortex is divided into left and right hemispheres. One of the in-
teresting curiosities of anatomy is that the right part of the body tends to be
connected to the left hemisphere and the left part of the body to the right hemi-
sphere. Thus, the left hemisphere controls motor function and sensation in the
right hand. The right ear is most strongly connected to the left hemisphere. The
neural receptors in either eye that receive input from the left part of the visual
world are connected to the right hemisphere (as Chapter 2 will explain with re-
spect to Figures 2.5 and 2.6).
Brodmann (1909/1960) identified 52 distinct regions of the human cortex
(see Color Plate 1.1), based on differences in the cell types in various regions.
Many of these regions proved to have functional differences as well. The corti-
cal regions are typically organized into four lobes: frontal, parietal, occipital, and
temporal (Figure 1.6). Major folds, or sulci, on the
cortex separate the areas. The occipital lobe con-
tains the primary visual areas. The parietal lobe
handles some perceptual functions, including spa-
tial processing and representation of the body. It
is also involved in control of attention, as we will
discuss in Chapter 3. The temporal lobe receives
input from the occipital area and is involved in ob-
ject recognition. It also has the primary auditory
areas and Wernicke’s area, which is involved in
language processing. The frontal lobe has two
major functions: The back portion of the frontal
lobe is involved primarily with motor functions.
The front portion, called the prefrontal cor-
tex, is thought to control higher level processes,
such as planning. The frontal portion of the
brain is disproportionately larger in primates
than in most mammals and, among primates,
FIGURE 1.5 A cross-sectional
view of the brain showing some
of its major components.
Neocortex
Thalamus
Optic nerve
Pituitary
Hypothalamus
Midbrain
Cerebellum
Medulla
Pons
Anderson_8e_Ch01.indd 15 13/09/14 9:32 AM
16 / Chapter 1 T H e S C i e n C e O F C O G n i T i O n
humans are distinguished by having disproportionately larger anterior por-
tions of the prefrontal cortex (Area 10 in Color Plate 1.1—Semendeferi,
Armstrong, Schleicher, Zilles, & Van Hoesen, 2001). Figure 1.6 will be repeated
at the start of many of the chapters in the text, with an indication of the areas rel-
evant to the topics in those chapters.
The neocortex is not the only region that plays a significant role in higher level
cognition. There are many important circuits that go from the cortex to subcortical
structures and back again. A particularly significant area for memory proves to be
the limbic system, which is at the border between the cortex and the lower struc-
tures. The limbic system contains a structure called the hippocampus (located
inside the temporal lobes), which appears to be critical to human memory. It is not
possible to show the hippocampus in a cross section like Figure 1.5, because it is a
structure that occurs in the right and left halves of the brain between the surface
and the center. Figure 1.7 illustrates the hippocampus and related structures. Dam-
age to the hippocampus and to other nearby structures produces severe amnesia,
as we will see in Chapter 7.
Another important collection of subcorti-
cal structures is the basal ganglia. The critical
connections of the basal ganglia are illustrated
in Figure 1.8. The basal ganglia are involved
both in basic motor control and in the control of
complex cognition. These structures receive pro-
jections from almost all areas of the cortex and
have projections to the frontal cortex. Disorders
such as Parkinson’s disease and Huntington’s
disease result from damage to the basal ganglia.
Although people suffering from these diseases
have dramatic motor control deficits character-
ized by tremors and rigidity, they also have diffi-
culties in cognitive tasks. The cerebellum, which
has a major role in motor control, also seems to
play a role in higher order cognition. Many cog-
nitive deficits have been observed in patients
with damage to the cerebellum.
FIGURE 1.6 A side view of the
cerebral cortex showing the four
lobes—frontal, occipital, parietal,
and temporal—of each hemi-
sphere (blue-shaded areas) and
other major components of the
cerebral cortex.
FIGURE 1.7 Structures under the
cortex that are part of the limbic
system, which includes the hip-
pocampus. related structures are
labeled.
Broca’s
area
Prefrontal
association
cortex
Primary auditory
cortex
Wernicke’s
area
Sylvian fissure
Preoccipital notch
Primary visual
cortex
Parietal lobe
Motor cortex
Central sulcus
Cerebellum
Parietal-temporal-
occipital association
cortex
Primary somatic sensory cortex
Frontal lobe
Occipital
lobe
Temporal lobe
Basal
ganglia
Cerebral
cortex
Thalamus
Hippocampus
Amygdala
Anderson_8e_Ch01.indd 16 13/09/14 9:32 AM
O r G A n i z AT i O n O F T H e B r A i n / 17
■ The brain is organized into a number
of distinct areas, which serve different
types of functions, with the cerebral cor-
tex playing the major role in higher cog-
nitive functions.
Localization of Function
The left and right hemispheres of the cerebral
cortex appear to be somewhat specialized for
different types of processing. In general, the
left hemisphere seems to be associated with
linguistic and analytic processing, whereas
the right hemisphere is associated with per-
ceptual and spatial processing. The left and
right hemispheres are connected by a broad
band of fibers called the corpus callosum.
The corpus callosum has been surgically
severed in some patients to prevent epileptic
seizures. Such patients are referred to as split-
brain patients. The operation is typically suc-
cessful, and patients seem to function fairly
well. Much of the evidence for the differences
between the hemispheres comes from re-
search with these patients. In one experiment,
the word key was flashed on the left side of a screen the patient was viewing.
Because it was on the left side of the screen, it would be received by the right,
nonlanguage hemisphere. When asked what was presented on the screen, the
patient was not able to say because the language-dominant hemisphere did not
know. However, his left hand (but not the right) was able to pick out a key from
a set of objects hidden from view.
Studies of split-brain patients have enabled psychologists to identify the
separate functions of the right and left hemispheres. The research has shown a
linguistic advantage for the left hemisphere. For instance, commands might be
presented to these patients in the right ear (and hence to the left hemisphere)
or in the left ear (and hence to the right hemisphere). The right hemisphere
can comprehend only the simplest linguistic commands, whereas the left hemi-
sphere displays full comprehension. A different result is obtained when the
ability of the right hand (hence the left hemisphere) to perform manual tasks is
compared with that of the left hand (hence the right hemisphere). In this situa-
tion, the right hemisphere clearly outperforms the left hemisphere.
Research with other patients who have had damage to specific brain re-
gions indicates that there are areas in the left cortex, called Broca’s area and
Wernicke’s area (see Figure 1.6), that seem critical for speech, because dam-
age to them results in aphasia, the severe impairment of speech. These may
not be the only neural areas involved in speech, but they certainly are impor-
tant. Different language deficits appear depending on whether the damage is
to Broca’s area or Wernicke’s area. People with Broca’s aphasia (i.e., damage to
Broca’s area) speak in short, ungrammatical sentences. For instance, when one
patient was asked whether he drives home on weekends, he replied:
Why, yes . . . Thursday, er, er, er, no, er, Friday . . . Bar-ba-ra . . . wife
. . . and, oh, car . . . drive . . . purnpike . . . you know . . . rest and . . .
teevee. (Gardner, 1975, p. 61)
To motor cortex
and frontal areas
Thalamus
Subthalamic
nucleus
Substantia nigra Globus pallidus Putamen
Cerebral cortex
Caudate nucleus
FIGURE 1.8 The major structures
of the basal ganglia (blue-shaded
areas) include the caudate nu-
cleus, the subthalamic nucleus,
the substantia nigra, the globus
pallidus, and the putamen. The
critical connections (inputs and
outputs) of the basal ganglia are
illustrated. (After Gazzinga, Ivry, &
Mangun, 2002.)
Anderson_8e_Ch01.indd 17 13/09/14 9:32 AM
18 / Chapter 1 T H e S C i e n C e O F C O G n i T i O n
In contrast, patients with Wernicke’s aphasia speak in fairly grammatical sen-
tences that are almost devoid of meaning. Such patients have difficulty with
their vocabulary and generate “empty” speech. The following is the answer
given by one such patient to the question “What brings you to the hospital?”
Boy, I’m sweating, I’m awful nervous, you know, once in a while I get
caught up, I can’t mention the tarripoi, a month ago, quite a little, I’ve
done a lot well. I impose a lot, while, on the other hand, you know
what I mean, I have to run around, look it over, trebbin and all that
sort of stuff. (Gardner, 1975, p. 68)
■ Different specific areas of the brain support different cognitive
functions.
Topographic Organization
In many areas of the cortex, information processing is structured spatially in
what is called a topographic organization. For instance, in the visual area at
the back of the cortex, adjacent areas represent information from adjacent areas
of the visual field. Figure 1.9 illustrates this fact (Tootell, Silverman, Switkes,
& DeValois, 1982). Monkeys were shown the bull’s-eye pattern represented in
Figure 1.9a. Figure 1.9b shows the pattern of activation that was recorded on the
occipital cortex by injecting a radioactive material that marks locations of maxi-
mum neural activity. We see that the bull’s-eye structure is reproduced with only
a little distortion. A similar principle of organization governs the representation
of the body in the motor cortex and the somatosensory cortex along the cen-
tral fissure. Adjacent parts of the body are represented in adjacent parts of the
neural tissue. Figure 1.10 illustrates the representation of the body along the
somatosensory cortex. Note that the body is distorted, with certain areas receiving
a considerable overrepresentation. It turns out that the overrepresented areas
correspond to those that are more sensitive. Thus, for instance, we can make more
subtle discriminations among tactile stimuli on the hands and face than we can on
the back or thigh. Also, there is an overrepresentation in the visual cortex of the
visual field at the center of our vision, where we have the greatest visual acuity.
It is thought that topographic maps exist so that neurons processing similar
regions can interact with one another (Crick & Asanuma, 1986). Although there
are fiber tracks that connect different regions of the brain, the majority of the
connections among neurons are to nearby neurons. This emphasis on local con-
nections is driven to minimize both the communication time between neurons
and the amount of neural tissue that must be devoted to connecting them. The
FIGURE 1.9 evidence of
topographic organization. A
visual stimulus (a) is pre-
sented to a monkey. The
stimulus produces a pattern
of brain activation (b) in the
monkey that closely matches
the structure of the stimulus.
(From Tootell et al., 1982. Re-
printed with permission from
AAAS.)
(a) (b)
1 cm
Anderson_8e_Ch01.indd 18 13/09/14 9:32 AM
m e T H O d S i n C O G n i T i v e n e u r O S C i e n C e / 19
extreme of localization is the cortical minicolumn (Buxhoeveden & Casanova,
2002)—tiny vertical columns of about 100 neurons that have a very restricted
mission. For instance, cortical columns in the primary visual cortex are special-
ized to process information about one orientation, from one location, in one eye.
Neurons in a minicolumn do not represent a precise location with pin-
point accuracy but rather a range of nearby locations. This relates to another
aspect of neural information processing called coarse coding, which refers
to the fact that single neurons seem to respond to a range of events. For in-
stance, when the neural activity from a single neuron in the somatosensory
cortex is recorded, we can see that the neuron does not respond only when
a single point of the body is stimulated, but rather when any point on a large
patch of the body is stimulated. How, then, can we know exactly what point
has been touched? That information is recorded quite accurately, but not in
the response of any particular cell. Instead, different cells will respond to dif-
ferent overlapping regions of the body, and any point will evoke a different set
of cells. Thus, the location of a point is reflected by the pattern of activation,
which reinforces the idea that neural information tends to be represented in
patterns of activation.
■ Adjacent cells in the cortex tend to process sensory stimuli from ad-
jacent areas of the body.
◆ Methods in Cognitive Neuroscience
How does one go about understanding the neural basis of cognition? Much of
the past research in neuroscience has been done on animals. Some research
has involved the surgical removal of various parts of the cortex. By observing
the deficits these operations have produced, it is possible to infer the func-
tion of the region removed. Other research has recorded the electrical activity
in particular neurons or regions of neurons. By observing what activates these
FIGURE 1.10 A cross section
of the somatosensory cortex,
showing how the human body is
mapped in the neural tissue.
Lateral
Medial
Genitals
Foot
Toes
Leg
Hip
Trunk
Neck
Head
Shoulder
Arm
Elbow
ForearmW
rist
HandLittleRing
MiddleIndex
Thumb
Eye
Nose
Face
Upper lip
Lower lip
Teeth
Gums
Jaw
Tongue
Pharyn
x
Intra-
abdominal
Anderson_8e_Ch01.indd 19 13/09/14 9:32 AM
20 / Chapter 1 T H e S C i e n C e O F C O G n i T i O n
neurons, one can infer what they do. However, there is considerable uncertainty
about how much these animal results generalize to humans. The difference
between the cognitive potential of humans and that of most other animals is
enormous. With the possible exception of other primates, it is difficult to get
other animals even to engage in the kinds of cognitive processes that character-
ize humans. This has been the great barrier to understanding the neural basis of
higher level human cognition.
Neural Imaging Techniques
Until recently, the principal basis for understanding the role of the brain in
human cognition has been the study of patient populations. We have already
described some of this research, such as that with split-brain patients and
with patients who have suffered damages to brain areas that cause language
deficits. It was research with patient populations such as these that showed
that the brain is lateralized, with the left hemisphere specialized for language
processing. Such hemispheric specialization does not occur in other species.
More recently, there have been major advances in noninvasive methods
of imaging the functioning of the brains of normal participants engaged in
various cognitive activities. These advances in neural imaging are among the
most exciting developments in cognitive neuroscience and will be referenced
throughout this text. Although not as precise as recording from single neurons,
which can be done only rarely with humans (and then as part of surgical pro-
cedures), these methods have achieved dramatic improvements in precision.
Electroencephalography (EEG) records the electric potentials that
are present on the scalp. When large populations of neurons are active, this
activity will result in distinctive patterns of electric potential on the scalp. In
the typical methodology, a participant wears a cap of many electrodes. The
electrodes detect rhythmic changes in electrical activity and record them
on electroencephalograms Figure 1.11 illustrates some recordings typical of
various cognitive states. When EEG is used to study cognition, the partici-
pant is asked to respond to some stimulus, and researchers are interested in
FIGURE 1.11 eeG profiles
obtained during various
states of consciousness.
(Alila Medical Media/
Shutterstock.)
Anderson_8e_Ch01.indd 20 13/09/14 9:32 AM
m e T H O d S i n C O G n i T i v e n e u r O S C i e n C e / 21
discovering how processing this stimulus impacts general activity on the re-
cordings. To eliminate the effects not resulting from the stimulus, many trials
are averaged, and what remains is the activity produced by the stimulus. For
instance, Kutas and Hillyard (1980) found that there was a large dip in the wave
about 400 ms after participants heard an unexpected word in a sentence (this
is discussed further in Chapter 13). Such averaged EEG responses aligned to a
particular stimulus are called event-related potentials (ERPs). ERPs have very
good temporal resolution, but it is difficult to infer the location in the brain of
the neural activity that is producing the scalp activity.
A recent variation of ERP that offers better spatial resolution is magne-
toencephalography (MEG), which records magnetic fields produced by the
electrical activity. Because of the nature of the magnetic fields it measures,
MEG is best at detecting activity in the sulci (creases) of the cortex and is less
sensitive to activity in the gyri (bumps) or activity deep in the brain.
Two other methods, positron emission tomography (PET) and functional
magnetic resonance imaging (fMRI), provide relatively good information
about the location of neural activity but rather poor information about the time
course of that activity. Neither PET nor fMRI measures neural activity directly.
Rather, they measure metabolic rate or blood flow in various areas of the brain,
relying on the fact that more active areas of the brain require greater metabolic
expenditures and have greater blood flow. PET and fMRI scans can be conceived
as measuring the amount of work a brain region does.
In PET, a radioactive tracer is injected into the bloodstream (the radiation
exposure in a typical PET study is equivalent to two chest X rays and is not
considered dangerous). Participants are placed in a PET scanner that can de-
tect the variation in concentration of the radioactive element. Current methods
allow a spatial resolution of 5 to 10 mm. For instance, Posner, Peterson, Fox,
and Raichle (1988) used PET to localize the various components of the read-
ing process by looking at what areas of the brain are involved in reading a
word. Figure 1.12 illustrates their results. The triangles on the cortex represent
areas that were active when participants were just passively looking at concrete
nouns. The squares represent areas that became active when participants were
asked to engage in the semantic activity of generating uses for these nouns.
The triangles are located in the occipital lobe; the squares, in the frontal lobe.
Thus, the data indicate that the processes of visually perceiving a word take
place in a different part of the brain from the processes of thinking about
the meaning of a word.
The fMRI methodology has largely replaced PET. It offers even better
spatial resolution than PET and is less intrusive. fMRI uses the same MRI scan-
ner that hospitals now use as standard equipment to image various structures,
including patients’ brain structures. With minor modification, it can be used to
image the functioning of the brain. fMRI does not re-
quire injecting the participant with a radioactive tracer
but relies on the fact that there is more oxygenated
hemoglobin in regions of greater neural activity. (One
might think that greater activity would use up oxygen,
but the body responds to effort by overcompensating
and increasing the oxygen in the blood—this is called
the hemodynamic response.) Radio waves are passed
through the brain, and these cause the iron in the
hemoglobin to produce a local magnetic field that is
detected by magnetic sensors surrounding the head.
Thus, fMRI offers a measure of the amount of energy
being spent in a particular brain region: The signal is
stronger in areas where there is greater activity. Among
FIGURE 1.12 Areas in the lateral
aspect of the cortex activated
by visual word reading. Triangles
mark locations activated by the
passive visual task; squares mark
the locations activated by the
semantic task. (Task locations after
Posner et al., 1988.)
Anderson_8e_Ch01.indd 21 13/09/14 9:32 AM
22 / Chapter 1 T H e S C i e n C e O F C O G n i T i O n
its advantages over PET are that it allows measurement over longer periods be-
cause there is no radioacive substance injected and that it offers finer temporal
and spatial resolution. In the next section I will describe an fMRI study in detail to
illustrate the basic methodology and what it can accomplish.
Neither PET nor fMRI is what one would call a practical, everyday measure-
ment method. Even the more practical fMRI uses multimillion-dollar scanners
that require the participant to lie motionless in a noisy and claustrophobic
space. There is hope, however, that more practical techniques will become avail-
able. One of the more promising is near-infrared sensing (Strangman, Boas, &
Sutton, 2002). This methodology relies on the fact that light penetrates tissue
(put a flashlight to the palm of your hand to demonstrate this) and is reflected
back. In near-infrared sensing, light is shined on the skull, and the instrument
senses the spectrum of light that is reflected back. It turns out that near-infra-
red light tends not to be absorbed by oxygenated tissue, and so by measuring the
amount of light in the near-infrared region (which is not visible to human eyes),
one can detect the oxygenation of the blood in a particular area of the brain.
This methodology promises to be much cheaper and less confining than PET or
fMRI and does not require movement restriction. Even now it is used with young
children who cannot be convinced to remain still and with Parkinson’s patients
who cannot control their movements. A major limitation of this technique is that
it can only detect activity 2 or 3 cm into the brain because that is as far as the
light can effectively penetrate.
These various imaging techniques have revolutionized our understanding
of the brain activity underlying human cognition, but they have a limitation
that goes beyond temporal and spatial resolution: They provide only a lim-
ited basis for causal inference. Just because activity is detected in a region of
the brain during a task does not mean that the region of the brain is critical
to the execution of the task. Until recently researchers had to study patients
with strokes, brain injuries, and brain diseases to get some understanding of
how critical a region is. However, there are now methods available that allow
researchers to briefly incapacitate a region. Principal among these is a method
called transcranial magnetic stimulation (TMS), in which a coil is placed over
a particular part of the head and a pulse or pulses are delivered to that region
(see Figure 1.13). This will disrupt the processing in the region under the coil.
If properly administered, TMS is safe and has no lasting effect. It can be very
useful in determining the role of different brain regions. For instance, there is
activity in both prefrontal and parietal regions during study of an item that a
participant is trying to remember. Nonetheless, it has been shown that TMS to
the prefrontal region (Rossi et al., 2001) and not the parietal region (Rossi et al.,
2006) disrupts memory formation. This implies a more critical role of the pre-
frontal region in memory formation.
■ Techniques like EEG, MEG, fMRI, and TMS are allowing research-
ers to study the neural basis of human cognition with a precision
starting to approach that available in animal studies.
Using fMRI to Study Equation Solving
Most brain-imaging studies have looked at relatively simple cognitive tasks, as is
still true of most research in cognitive neuroscience. A potential danger of using
such techniques is that we will come to believe that the human mind is capable
only of the simple things that are studied with these neuroscience techniques.
However, it is possible to study more complex processes. For example, I will
describe a study—for which I was one of the researchers (Qin, Anderson, Silk,
Anderson_8e_Ch01.indd 22 13/09/14 9:32 AM
m e T H O d S i n C O G n i T i v e n e u r O S C i e n C e / 23
Stenger, & Carter, 2004)—that looked at equation solving by children aged 11 to
14 when they were just learning to solve equations. This research illustrates the
profitable marriage of information-processing analysis and cognitive neurosci-
ence techniques.
Qin et al. (2004) studied eighth-grade students as they solved equations
at three levels of complexity in terms of the number of steps of transformation
that were required:
0 step: 1x + 0 = 4
1 step: 3x + 0 = 12 or 1x + 8 = 12
2 steps: 7x + 1 = 29
Note that the 0-step equation is rather unusual, with the 1 in front
of the x and the + 0 after the x. This format reflects the fact that the
visual complexity of different conditions must be controlled to avoid
obtaining differences in the visual cortex and elsewhere just because
a more complex visual stimulus has to be processed. Students kept
their heads motionless while being scanned. They wore a response
glove and could press a finger to indicate the answer to the problem
(thumb = 1, index finger = 2, middle finger = 3, ring finger = 4, and
little finger = 5).
Qin et al. (2004) developed an information-processing model
for the solution of such equations that involved imagined trans-
formations of the equations, retrieval of arithmetic and algebraic
facts, and programming of the motor response. Figure 1.14 shows
FIGURE 1.13 TmS is
delivered by a coil on the
surface of the head, which
generates brief put powerful
magnetic pulses that induce
a temporary current in a
small area on the surface of
the brain. This current can
interfere with processing of
the brain with high temporal
and fair spatial precision.
(Boston Globe via Getty
Images.)
Key 4
Time (s) Visual Retrieval Motor
1.2
1.4
1.6
1.8
2.0
2.2
2.4
2.6
4.0
2.8
3.0
3.2
3.4
3.6
3.8
4.2
4.4
4.6
4.8
5.0
? = 29
? = 29
? 1 = 29
? + 1 = 29
Inverse of +
? = 28
7x = 28
x = 4
29 − 1 = 28
28 / 7 = 4
FIGURE 1.14 The steps of an
information-processing model for
solving the equation 7x + 1 = 29.
The model includes imagined
transformations of the equations
(visual processing), retrieval of
arithmetic and algebraic facts,
and programming of the motor
response.
Anderson_8e_Ch01.indd 23 13/09/14 9:32 AM
24 / Chapter 1 T H e S C i e n C e O F C O G n i T i O n
the sequencing of these activities. In line with existing re-
search, we would expect that:
FIGURE 1.15 regions of interest
for the fmri scan in the equation-
solving experiment. The imagined
transformations would activate a
region of the left parietal cortex;
the retrieval of arithmetic infor-
mation would activate a region
of the left prefrontal cortex; and
programming of the hand’s
movement would activate the left
motor and somatosensory cortex.
ParietalPrefrontal
Motor
1. Programming of the hand would be reflected in
activation in the left motor and somatosensory cortex.
(See Figure 1.10; participants responded with their
right hands, and so the left cortex would be involved.)
2. The imagined transformations of each equation would
activate a region of the left parietal cortex involved in
mental imagery (see Chapter 4).
3. The retrieval of arithmetic information would activate a
region of the left prefrontal cortex (see Chapters 6 and 7).
Figure 1.15 shows the locations of these three regions of
interest. Each region is a cube with sides of approximately
15 mm. fMRI is capable of much greater spatial resolution, but the application
within this study did not require this level of accuracy.
The times required to solve the three types of equation were 2.0 s for 0 step,
3.6 s for 1 step, and 4.8 s for 2 steps. However, after students pressed the appropriate
finger to indicate the answer, a long rest period followed to allow brain activity to
return to baseline for the next trial. Qin et al. (2004) obtained the data in terms of
the percentage increase over this baseline of the blood oxygen level dependent
(BOLD) response. In this particular experiment, the BOLD response was obtained
for each region every 1.2 s. Figure 1.16a shows the BOLD response in the motor
region for the three conditions. The percentage increase is plotted from the time
the equation was presented. Note that even though students solved the problem
and keyed the answer to the 0-step equation in an average of 2 s, the BOLD func-
tion did not begin to rise above baseline until the third scan after the equation was
solved, and it did not reach peak until after approximately 6.6 s. This result reflects
the fact that the hemodynamic response to a neural activity is delayed because it
takes time for the oxygenated blood to arrive at the corresponding location in the
brain. Basically, the hemodynamic response reaches a peak about 4 to 5 s after the
event. In the motor region (see Figure 1.16a), the BOLD response for a 0-step equa-
tion reached a peak at approximately 6.6 s, for a 1-step equation at approximately
7.8 s, and for a 2-step equation at approximately 9.0 s. Thus, the point of maximum
activity reflects events that were happening about 4 to 5 s previously.
The peak of a BOLD function allows one to read the brain and see when
the activity took place. The height of the function reflects the amount of activity
that took place. Note that the functions for motor activity in Figure 1.16a are
of approximately equal height in the three conditions because it takes the same
amount of effort to program the finger press, independent of the number of
transformations needed to solve the equations.
Figure 1.16b shows the BOLD responses in the parietal region. Like the
responses in the motor region, they peaked at different times, reflecting the
differences in time to solve the equations. They peaked a little earlier, how-
ever, because the BOLD responses reflected the transformations being made
to the mental image of the equation, which occurred before the response was
emitted. Also, the BOLD functions reached very different heights, reflecting
the different number of transformations that needed to be performed to solve
the equation. Figure 1.16c shows the BOLD responses in the prefrontal region,
which were quite similar to those in the parietal region. The important differ-
ence is that there was no rise in the function in the 0-step condition because it
was not necessary to retrieve any information in that condition. Students could
just read the answer from the mental representation of the original equation.
This experiment showed that researchers can separately track different
information-processing components involved in performing a complex task.
Anderson_8e_Ch01.indd 24 13/09/14 9:32 AM
m e T H O d S i n C O G n i T i v e n e u r O S C i e n C e / 25
Time (s)
In
cr
ea
se
in
B
O
LD
re
sp
on
se
(%
)
In
cr
ea
se
in
B
O
LD
re
sp
on
se
(%
)
In
cr
ea
se
in
B
O
LD
re
sp
on
se
(%
)
(a)
(c)
(b)
0 5 10 15 20
−0.05
0
0.05
0.1
0.15
0.2
0.25
0.3
0.35
0.4
Response 2.0 s
Peak 6.6 s
Response 3.6 s
Peak 7.8 s
Response 4.8 s
Peak 9.0 s
0 step
1 step
2 step
0 step
1 step
2 step
0 step
1 step
2 step
0.3
0.25
0.2
0.15
0.1
0.05
0
−0.05
0 5 10 15 20
Time (s)
Response 2.0 s
Peak 5.4 s
Response 4.8 s
Peak 7.8 s
Response 3.6 s
Peak 6.6 s
5 10 15 20
Time (s)
0
0
−0.05
0.05
0.10
0.15
0.20
0.25
Response 4.8 s
Peak 7.8 s
Response 2.0 s
No peak
Response 3.6 s
Peak 6.6 s
FIGURE 1.16 responses of the
three regions of interest shown in
Figure 1.14 for different equation
complexities: (a) motor region;
(b) parietal region; (c) prefrontal
region.
The fMRI methodology is especially appropriate for the study of complex cog-
nition. Its temporal resolution is not very good, and so it is difficult to study
very brief tasks such as the Sternberg paradigm (see Figures 1.1 and 1.2). On
the other hand, when a task takes many seconds, it is possible to distinguish
the timing of processes, as we see in Figure 1.16. Because of its high spatial
resolution, fMRI is able to separate out different components of the overall
processing. For brief cognition, ERP is often a more appropriate brain-imaging
technique because it can achieve much finer temporal resolution.
■ fMRI allows researchers to track activity in the brain of different
information-processing components of a complex task.
Anderson_8e_Ch01.indd 25 13/09/14 9:32 AM
26 / Chapter 1 T H e S C i e n C e O F C O G n i T i O n
Key Terms
This chapter has introduced quite a few key terms, most of which will reappear in later chapters:
action potential
aphasia
artificial intelligence (AI)
axon
basal ganglia
behaviorism
blood oxygen level
dependent (BOLD)
response
Broca’s area
cognitive neuroscience
cognitive psychology
corpus callosum
dendrite
electroencephalography
(EEG)
empiricism
event-related potential
(ERP)
excitatory synapse
frontal lobe
functional magnetic
resonance imaging
(fMRI)
Gestalt psychology
gyrus
hemodynamic response
hippocampus
information-processing
approach
inhibitory synapse
introspection
linguistics
magnetoencephalography
(MEG)
nativism
neuron
neurotransmitter
occipital lobe
parietal lobe
positron emission
tomography (PET)
prefrontal cortex
rate of firing
split-brain patients
Sternberg paradigm
sulcus
synapse
temporal lobe
topographic organization
transcranial magnetic
stimulation (TMS)
Wernicke’s area
Questions for Thought
The Web site for this book contains a set of questions
(see Learning Objectives and also FAQ) for each chap-
ter. These can serve as a useful basis for reflection—for
executing the reflection phase of the PQ4R method
discussed early in the chapter. The chapter itself will
also contain a set of questions designed to emphasize
the core issues in the field. For this chapter, consider
the following questions:
1. Research in cognitive psychology has been de-
scribed as “the mind studying itself.” Is this really
an accurate characterization of what cognitive
psychologists do in studies like those illustrated in
Figures 1.1 and 1.16? Does the fact that cognitive
psychologists study their own thought processes
create any special opportunities or challenges? Is
there any difference between a scientist studying a
mental system like memory versus a bodily system
like digestion?
2. Ray Kurzweil won the National Medal of Tech-
nology and Computation and is director of
engineering at Google. In his 2005 book, The Sin-
gularity Is Near, he predicted that by 2020 (5 years
from the publication of this edition of my text),
$1,000 will be able to buy a computer that can
emulate human intelligence. He projects further
development will lead to the Singularity in 2045,
when human life will be fundamentally trans-
formed. What do you think the growth of compu-
tation implies for your future life?
3. The scientific program of reductionism tries to
reduce one level of phenomena into a lower level.
For instance, this chapter has discussed how com-
plex economic behavior can be reduced to the de-
cision making (cognition) of individuals and how
this can be reduced to the actions of individual
neurons in the brain. But reductionism does not
stop here. The activity of neurons can be reduced
to chemistry, and chemistry can be reduced to
physics. When does it help and when does it not
help to try to understand one level in terms of a
lower level? Why is it silly to go all the way in a
reductionist program and attempt something like
explaining economic behavior in terms of particle
physics?
4. Humans are frequently viewed as qualitatively
superior to other animals in terms of their
intellectual function. What are some ways in
which humans seem to display such qualitative
superiority? How would these create problems in
generalizing research from other animals to
humans?
5. New techniques for imaging brain activity have
had a major impact on research in cognitive psy-
chology, but each technique has its limitations.
What are the limitations of the various techniques?
What would the properties be of an ideal brain-
imaging technique? How do studies that actually
go into the brain (almost exclusively done with
nonhumans) inform the use of brain imaging?
6. What are the ethical limitations on the kinds of
research that can be performed with humans and
nonhumans?
Anderson_8e_Ch01.indd 26 13/09/14 9:32 AM
27
2
Perception
Our bodies are bristling with sensors that detect sights, sounds, smells, and physical
contact. Billions of neurons process sensory information and deliver what they find
to the higher centers in the brain. This chapter will focus on visual perception and, to a
lesser extent, on the perception of speech—the two most important perceptual systems
for the human species. The chapter will address the following questions:
● How does the brain extract information from the visual signal?
● How is visual information organized into objects?
● How are visual and speech patterns recognized?
● How does context affect pattern recognition?
◆ Visual Perception in the Brain
Humans have a big neural investment in processing visual information. This is
illustrated in Figure 2.1, which shows the cortical regions devoted to processing
information from vision and hearing. This investment in vision is part of our
“inheritance” as primates, who have evolved to devote as much as 50% of their
brains to visual processing (Barton, 1998). The enormous investment underlies
the human ability to see the world.
This is vividly demonstrated by individuals with damage to certain brain
regions who are not blind but are unable to recognize anything visually, a
condition called visual agnosia. This condition results from neural damage.
One case of visual agnosia involved a soldier who suffered brain damage
resulting from accidental carbon monoxide poisoning. He could recognize
objects by their feel, smell, or sound, but he was unable to distinguish a picture
of a circle from that of a square or to recognize faces or letters (Benson &
Greenberg, 1969). On the other hand, he was able to discern light intensities
and colors and to tell in what direction an object was moving. Thus, his sen-
sory system was still able to register visual information, but the damage to his
brain resulted in a loss of the ability to transform visual information into per-
ceptual experience. This case shows that perception is much more than simply
the registering of sensory information.
Generally, visual agnosia is classified as either apperceptive agnosia or
associative agnosia (for a review, read Farah, 1990). Patients with apperceptive
agnosia, like the soldier just described, are unable to recognize simple shapes
such as circles or triangles, or to draw shapes they are shown. Patients with
associative agnosia, in contrast, are able to recognize simple shapes and can
successfully copy drawings, even of complex objects. However, they are unable to
Anderson_8e_Ch02.indd 27 13/09/14 9:36 AM
28 / Chapter 2 P e r C e P T i O n
recognize the complex objects. Figure 2.2 shows the original drawing of an anchor
and a copy of it made by a patient with associative agnosia (Ratcliff & Newcombe,
1982). Despite being able to produce a relatively accurate drawing, the patient could
not recognize this object as an anchor (he called it an umbrella). Patients with ap-
perceptive agnosia are generally believed to have problems with early processing of
information in the visual system. In contrast, patients with associative agnosia are
thought to have intact early processing but to have difficulties with pattern recogni-
tion, which occurs later. This chapter will first discuss the early processing of infor-
mation in the visual stream and then the later processing of this information.
Figure 2.3 offers an opportunity for a person with normal perception to
appreciate the distinction between early and late visual processing. If you have
not seen this image before, it will strike you as just a bunch of ink blobs. You
will be able to judge the size of the various blobs and reproduce them, just as
Ratcliff and Newcombe’s patient could, but you will not see any patterns. If
you keep looking at the image, however, you may be able to make out a cow’s
face (nose slightly to the left at the bottom). Now your pattern perception has
succeeded, and you have interpreted what you have seen.
■ Visual perception can be divided into an early phase, in which
shapes and objects are extracted from the visual scene, and a later
phase, in which the shapes and objects are recognized.
Early Visual Information Processing
Early visual information processing begins in the eye (see
Figure 2.4). Light passes through the lens and the vitre-
ous humor and falls on the retina at the back of the eye. The
retina contains the photoreceptor cells, which are made up
of light-sensitive molecules that undergo structural changes
when exposed to light. Light is scattered slightly in passing
through the vitreous humor, so the image that falls on the
back of the retina is not perfectly sharp. One of the functions
of early visual processing is to sharpen that image.
Photoreceptor cells in the retina contain light-sensitive
molecules that undergo structural changes when exposed to
light, initiating a photochemical process that converts light into
neural signals. There are two distinct types of photoreceptors in
FIGURE 2.2 A patient with asso-
ciative agnosia was able to copy
the original drawing of the anchor
at left (his drawing is at right), but
he was unable to recognize the
object as an anchor. (From Ellis
& Young, 1988. Human cognitive
neuropsychology. Copyright
© 1988 Erlbaum. Reprinted by
permission.)
FIGURE 2.1 Some of the cortical
structures involved in vision and
audition: the visual cortex, the
auditory cortex, the “where” visual
pathway, and the “what” visual
pathway.
“Where” visual pathway
“What” visual pathway
Auditory cortex
Visual cortex: Early visual processing
Brain Structures
Anderson_8e_Ch02.indd 28 13/09/14 9:36 AM
V i S u A l P e r C e P T i O n i n T H e B r A i n / 29
the eye: cones and rods. Cones are involved in color vision and produce high reso-
lution and acuity. Less light energy is required to trigger a response in the rods, but
they produce poorer resolution. As a consequence, they are principally responsible
for the less acute, black-and-white vision we experience at night. Cones are espe-
cially concentrated in a small area of the retina called the fovea. When we focus on
an object, we move our eyes so that the image of the object falls on the fovea, which
enables us to take full advantage of the high resolution of the cones in perceiving
the object. Foveal vision detects fine details, whereas the rest of the visual field—the
periphery—detects more global information, including movement.
The receptor cells synapse onto bipolar cells and these onto ganglion cells,
whose axons leave the eye and form the optic nerve, which goes to the brain.
Altogether there are about 800,000 ganglion cells in the optic nerve of each eye.
Each ganglion cell encodes information from a small region of the retina called
the cell’s receptive field. Typically, the amount of light stimulation in that region of
the retina is encoded by the neural firing rate on the ganglion cell’s axon.
FIGURE 2.3 A scene in which
we initially perceive just black
and white areas; only after
looking at it for some time is it
possible to make out the face of
a cow. (From American Journal of
Psychology. Copyright 1951 by the
Board of Trustees of the University
of Illinois. Used with permission
of the University of Illinois Press.
Adapted from Dallenbach, 1951.)
Cornea
Pupil
Lens
Vitreous humor
Retina
Optic nerve
Aqueous humor
Fovea
Iris
FIGURE 2.4 A schematic
representation of the eye.
light enters through the
cornea; passes through the
aqueous humor, pupil, lens,
and vitreous humor; then
strikes and stimulates the
retina. (After Lindsay & Norman,
1977.)
Anderson_8e_Ch02.indd 29 13/09/14 9:36 AM
30 / Chapter 2 P e r C e P T i O n
Figure 2.5 illustrates the neural pathways from
the eyes to the brain. The optic nerves from both eyes
meet at the optic chiasma, where the nerves from
the inside of the retina (the side nearest the nose)
cross over and go to the opposite side of the brain.
The nerves from the outside of the retina continue
to the same side of the brain as the eye. This means
that the right halves of both eyes are connected to the
right hemisphere. As Figure 2.5 illustrates, the lens
focuses the light so that the left side of the visual field
falls on the right half of each eye. Thus, information
about the left side of the visual field goes to the right
brain, and information about the right side of the vis-
ual field goes to the left brain. This is one instance of
the general fact, discussed in Chapter 1, that the left
hemisphere processes information about the right
part of the world and the right hemisphere processes
information about the left part.
Once inside the brain, the fibers from the
ganglion cells synapse onto cells in various subcorti-
cal structures. (“Subcortical” means that the struc-
tures are located below the cortex.) These subcortical
structures (such as the lateral geniculate nucleus in
Figure 2.5) are connected to the primary visual cortex
(Brodmann area 17 in Color Plate 1.1). The primary
visual cortex is the first cortical area to receive visual
input, but there are many other visual areas. Figure 2.6
illustrates the representation of the visual world in the
12
119
10
5
6
7
8
1
2
3
4
Fovea
Visual field
Right
Calcarine
fissure
Calcarine
fissure
Primary visual
cortex
Left
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
12 10
11
FIGURE 2.6 The orderly mapping
of the visual field (above) onto
the cortex. The upper fields are
mapped below the calcarine
fissure and the lower fields
are mapped above the fissure.
note the disproportionate
representation given to the fovea,
which is the region of greatest
visual acuity. (After Figure 29-7
in Kandel, E. R., Schwartz, J. H., &
Jessell, T. M. (1991). Principles of
neural science (3rd ed.). Copyright
© 1991 McGraw Hill. Reprinted by
permission.)
FIGURE 2.5 neural pathways
from the eye to the brain. The
optic nerves from each eye meet
at the optic chiasma. informa-
tion about the left side of the
visual field goes to the right brain,
and information about the right
side of the visual field goes to
the left brain. Optic nerve fibers
synapse onto cells in subcorti-
cal structures, such as the lateral
geniculate nucleus and superior
colliculus. Both structures are
connected to the visual cortex.
Eye
Optic
chiasm
Lateral
geniculate
nucleus
Superior
colliculus
Visual cortex
Anderson_8e_Ch02.indd 30 13/09/14 9:36 AM
V i S u A l P e r C e P T i O n i n T H e B r A i n / 31
primary visual cortex. It shows that the visual cortex is laid out topologically,
as discussed in Chapter 1. The fovea receives a disproportionate representation
while the peripheral areas receive less representation. Figure 2.6 shows that the
left visual field is represented in the right cortex and the right in the left cortex.
It also illustrates another “reversal” of the mapping—the upper part of the vis-
ual field is represented in the lower part of the visual cortex and the lower part
is represented in the upper region.
From the primary visual cortex, information tends to follow two path-
ways, a “what” pathway and a “where” pathway (look back at Figure 2.1).
The “what” pathway goes to regions of the temporal cortex that are specialized
for identifying objects. The “where” pathway goes to parietal regions of the brain
that are specialized for representing spatial information and for coordinating
vision with action. Monkeys with lesions in the “where” pathway have dif-
ficulty learning to identify specific locations, whereas monkeys with lesions
in the “what” pathway have difficulty learning to identify objects (Pohl, 1973;
Ungerleider & Brody, 1977). Other researchers (e.g., Milner & Goodale, 1995)
have argued that the “where” pathway is really a pathway specialized for action.
They point out that patients with agnosia because of damage to the temporal
lobe, but with intact parietal lobes, can often take actions appropriate to objects
they cannot recognize. For instance, one patient (see Goodale, Milner, Jakobson,
& Carey, 1991) could correctly reach out and grasp a door handle that she could
not recognize.
■ A photochemical process converts light energy into neural activity.
Visual information progresses by various neural tracks to the visual
cortex. From the visual cortex it progresses along “what” and “where”
pathways through the brain.
Information Coding in Visual Cells
Kuffler’s (1953) research showed how information is encoded by the ganglion
cells. These cells generally fire at some spontaneous rate even when the eyes are
not receiving any light. For some ganglion cells, if light falls on a small region of
the retina at the center of the cell’s receptive field, their spontaneous rates of firing
will increase. If light falls in the region just around this sensitive center, however,
the spontaneous rate of firing will decrease. Light farther from the center elicits
no change from the spontaneous firing rate—neither an increase nor a decrease.
Ganglion cells that respond in this way are known as on-off cells. There are
also off-on ganglion cells: Light at the center decreases the spontaneous rate of
firing, and light in the surrounding areas increases that rate. Cells in the lateral
geniculate nucleus respond in the same way. Figure 2.7 illustrates the receptive
fields of such cells (i.e., locations on the retina that increase or decrease the firing
rate of the cell).
Hubel and Wiesel (1962), in their study of the primary
visual cortex in the cat, found that visual cortical cells re-
spond in a more complex manner than ganglion cells and
cells in the lateral geniculate nucleus. Figure 2.8 illustrates
four patterns that have been observed in cortical cells. These
receptive fields all have an elongated shape, in contrast to the
circular receptive fields of the on-off and off-on cells. The
types shown in Figures 2.8a and 2.8b are edge detectors.
They respond positively to light on one side of a line and neg-
atively to light on the other side. They respond most if there
is an edge of light lined up so as to fall at the boundary point.
The types shown in Figures 2.8c and 2.8d are bar detectors.
They respond positively to light in the center and negatively
On-off cell Off-on cell
FIGURE 2.7 On-off and off-on
receptive fields of ganglion cells
and the cells in the lateral genicu-
late nucleus.
(a) (b) (c) (d)
FIGURE 2.8 response patterns
of cells in the visual cortex.
(a) and (b) are edge detectors,
responding positively to light on
one side of a line and negatively
to light on the other side.
(c) and (d) are bar detectors;
they respond positively to light in
the center and negatively to light
at the periphery, or vice versa.
Center-Surround
Receptive Fields and
Center-Surround
Illusions
Anderson_8e_Ch02.indd 31 13/09/14 9:36 AM
32 / Chapter 2 P e r C e P T i O n
to light at the periphery, or vice versa. Thus, a
bar with a positive center will respond most if
there is a bar of light just covering its center.
Figure 2.9 illustrates how a number of on-off
and off-on cells might combine to form a bar
or edge detector. Note that no single on-off
or off-on cell is sufficient to elicit a response
from a detector cell; instead, the detector cell
responds to patterns of input from the on-off
and off-on cells. Even at this low level, we see
the nervous system processing information
in terms of patterns of neural activation, a
theme emphasized in Chapter 1.
Both edge and bar detectors are spe-
cific with respect to position, orientation, and
width. That is, they respond only to stimulation in a small area of the visual
field, to bars and edges in a small range of orientations, and to bars and edges
of certain widths. Different detectors are tuned to different widths and orienta-
tions. Any bar or edge anywhere in the visual field, at any orientation, will elicit
a maximum response from some subset of detectors.
Figure 2.10 illustrates Hubel and Wiesel’s (1977) hypercolumn representa-
tion of cells in the primary visual cortex. They found that the visual cortex is
divided into 2 × 2 mm regions, which they called hypercolumns. Each hyper-
column represents a particular region of the visual field. As noted in Chapter 1,
the organization of the visual cortex is topographic, and so adjacent areas of the
visual field are represented in adjacent hypercolumns. Figure 2.10 shows that
each hypercolumn itself has a two-dimensional (2-D) organization. Along one
dimension, alternating rows receive input from the right and left eyes. Along
the other dimension, the cells vary in the orientation to which they are most
sensitive, with cells in adjacent rows representing similar orientations. This or-
ganization should impress upon us how much information is encoded about
the visual scene. Hundreds of regions of space are represented separately for
each eye, and within these regions many different orientations are represented.
In addition, different cells code for different sizes and widths of line (an aspect
of visual coding not illustrated in Figure 2.10). Thus, an enormous amount of
information has been extracted from the visual signal before it even leaves the
first cortical areas.
In addition to this rich representation of line orientation, size, and width,
the visual system extracts other information from the visual signal. For in-
stance, we can also perceive the colors of objects and whether they are moving.
Livingstone and Hubel (1988) proposed that the visual system processes these
various dimensions (form, color, and movement) separately.
Many different visual pathways and many different areas
of the cortex are devoted to visual processing (32 visual
areas in the count by Van Essen & DeYoe, 1995). Different
pathways have cells that are differentially sensitive to color,
movement, and orientation. Thus, the visual system ana-
lyzes a stimulus into many independent features in specific
locations. Such spatial representations of visual features are
called feature maps (Wolfe, 1994), with separate maps for
color, orientation, and movement. Thus, if a vertical red bar
is moving at a particular location, there are separate feature
maps representing that it is red, vertical, and moving in that
location. The maps for color, orientation, and movement
are separate.
R
L
R
L
FIGURE 2.10 representation of
a hypercolumn in the visual cor-
tex. The hypercolumn is organ-
ized in one dimension according
to whether input is coming from
the right eye or left eye. in the
other dimension, it is organized
according to the orientation of
lines to which the receptive cells
are most sensitive. Adjacent
regions represent similar orienta-
tions. (After Horton, 1984.)
(a) (b)
FIGURE 2.9 Hypothetical combi-
nations of on-off and off-on cells
to form (a) bar detectors and
(b) edge detectors.
Anderson_8e_Ch02.indd 32 13/09/14 9:36 AM
V i S u A l P e r C e P T i O n i n T H e B r A i n / 33
■ The ganglion cells encode the visual field by means of on-off and
off-on cells, which are combined by higher visual processing to form
various features.
Depth and Surface Perception
Even after the visual system has identified edges and bars in the environment,
a great deal of information processing must still be performed to enable vis-
ual perception of the world. Crucially, it is necessary to determine where
those edges and bars are located in space, in terms of their relative distance, or
depth. The fundamental problem is that the information laid out on the retina
is inherently 2-D, whereas we need to construct a three-dimensional (3-D)
representation of the world. The visual system uses a number of cues to infer
distance, including texture gradient, stereopsis, and motion parallax.
Texture gradient is the tendency of evenly spaced elements to appear more
closely packed together as the distance from the viewer increases. In the classic ex-
amples shown in Figure 2.11 (Gibson, 1950), the change in the texture gives the
appearance of distance even though the lines and ovals are rendered on a flat page.
Stereopsis is the ability to perceive 3-D depth based on the fact that each
eye receives a slightly different view of the world. The 3-D glasses used to view
some movies and some exhibits in theme parks achieve this by filtering the
light coming from a single 2-D source (say, a movie screen) so that different
light information reaches each eye. The perception of a 3-D structure resulting
from stereopsis can be quite compelling.
Motion parallax provides information about 3-D structure when a per-
son and/or the objects in a scene are in motion: The images of distant objects
will move across the retina more slowly than the images of closer objects. For
an interesting demonstration, look at a nearby tree with one eye closed and
without moving your head. Denied stereoscopic information, you will have
the sense of a very flat image in which it is hard to see the relative depths of
the leaves and branches. But if you move your head, the 3-D structure of the
FIGURE 2.11 examples of texture gradient. elements appear to be further away when
they are more closely packed together. (From Gibson, J. J. (1950). The perception of the
visual world. © 1950 Wadsworth, a part of Cengage Learning, Inc. Reproduced by permission.)
Size Constancy
Anderson_8e_Ch02.indd 33 13/09/14 9:36 AM
34 / Chapter 2 P e r C e P T i O n
tree will suddenly become clear, because the images of
nearby leaves and branches will move across the im-
ages of more distant ones, providing clear information
about depth.
Although it is easy to demonstrate the importance
to depth perception of such cues as texture gradient,
stereopsis, and motion parallax, it has been a chal-
lenge to understand how the brain actually processes
such information. A number of researchers in the area
of computational vision have worked on the problem.
For instance, David Marr (1982) has been influential in
his proposal that these various sources of information
work together to create what he calls a 2½-D sketch
that identifies where various visual features are located
relative to the viewer. While it required a lot of informa-
tion processing to produce this 2½-D sketch, a lot more
is required to convert that sketch into actual perception
of the world. In particular, such a sketch represents only
parts of surfaces and does not yet identify how these
parts go together to form images of objects in the environment (the problem we
had with Figure 2.3). Marr used the term 3-D model to refer to a later represen-
tation of objects in a visual scene.
■ Cues such as texture gradient, stereopsis, and motion parallax com-
bine to create a representation of the locations of surfaces in 3-D space.
Object Perception
A major problem in constructing a representation of the world is object seg-
mentation. Knowing where the lines and bars are located in space is not
enough; we need to know which ones go together to form objects. Consider
the scene in Figure 2.12: Many lines go this way and that, but somehow we put
them together to come up with the perception of a set of objects.
We organize objects into units according to a set of principles called the
gestalt principles of organization, after the Gestalt psychologists who first
proposed them (e.g., Wertheimer, 1912/1932). Consider Figure 2.13:
● Figure 2.13a illustrates the principle of
proximity: Elements close together tend to
organize into units. Thus, we perceive four
pairs of lines rather than eight separate lines.
● Figure 2.13b illustrates the principle of
similarity: Objects that look alike tend to be
grouped together. In this case, we tend to
see this array as rows of o’s alternating with
rows of x’s.
● Figure 2.13c illustrates the principle of good
FIGURE 2.12 An example of
how we aggregate the perception
of many broken lines into the
perception of solid objects. (From
Winston, P. H. (1970). learning
structural descriptions from
examples (Tech. Rep. No. 231).
Copyright © 1970 Massachusetts
Institute of Technology. Reprinted
by permission.)
(a)
A
BC
D
(c) (d)
(b)
FIGURE 2.13 illustrations of the
gestalt principles of organization:
(a) the principle of proximity,
(b) the principle of similarity,
(c) the principle of good con-
tinuation, (d) the principle of
closure.
continuation. We perceive two lines, one from
A to B and the other from C to D, although
there is no reason why this sketch could not
represent another pair of lines, one from A
to D and the other from C to B. However, the
lines from A to B and from C to D display bet-
ter continuation than the lines from A to D
and from C to B, which have a sharp turn.
Anderson_8e_Ch02.indd 34 13/09/14 9:36 AM
V i S u A l PAT T e r n r e C O g n i T i O n / 35
● Figure 2.13d illustrates the principles of closure and good form. We see the
drawing as one circle occluded by another, although the occluded object
could have many other possible shapes. The principle of closure means that
we see the large arc as part of a complete shape, not just as the curved line.
The principle of good form means that we perceive the occluded part as a
circle, not as having a wiggly, jagged, or broken border.
These principles will organize completely novel stimuli into units. Palmer
(1977) studied the recognition of shapes such as the ones shown in Figure 2.14.
He first showed participants stimuli (e.g., Figure 2.14a) and then asked them to
decide whether the fragments depicted in Figures 2.14b through 2.14e were part of
the original figure. The stimulus in Figure 2.14a tends to organize itself into a triangle
(principle of closure) and a bent letter n (principle of good continuation). Palmer
found that participants could recognize the parts most rapidly when they were the
segments predicted by the gestalt principles. So the stimuli in Figures 2.14b and
2.14c were recognized more rapidly than those in Figures 2.14d and 2.14e. Thus,
we see that recognition depends critically on the initial segmentation of the figure.
Recognition can be impaired when this gestalt-based segmentation contradicts the
actual pattern structure. FoRiNsTaNcEtHiSsEnTeNcEiShArDtOrEaD. The reasons
for this difficulty are (a) that the gestalt principle of similarity makes it hard to
perceive adjacent letters of different case as units and (b) that removing the spaces
between words has eliminated the proximity cues.
These ideas about segmentation can be extended to describe how more
complex 3-D structures are divided. Figure 2.15 illustrates a proposal by Hoff-
man and Richards (1985) for how gestaltlike principles can be used to seg-
ment an outline representation of an object into subobjects. They observed
that where one segment joins another, there is typically a concavity in the line
outline. Basically, people exploit the gestalt principle of good continuation: The
lines at the points of concavity are not good continuations of one another, and
so viewers do not group these parts together.
The current view is that the visual processing underlying the ability
to identify the position and shape of an object in 3-D space is largely innate.
Young infants appear to be capable of recognizing objects and their shapes and
where they are in 3-D space (e.g., Granrud, 1986, 1987).
■ Gestalt principles of organization explain how the brain segments
visual scenes into objects.
◆ Visual Pattern Recognition
We have now discussed visual information processing to the point
where we organize the visual world into objects. There still is a
major step before we see the world, however: We also must identify
what these objects are. This task is called pattern recognition. Much
of the research on this topic has focused on the question of how we
recognize the identity of letters. For instance, how do we recognize
a presentation of the letter A as an instance of the pattern A? We
(a) (b) (c) (d) (e)
FIGURE 2.15 Segmentation
of an object into subobjects.
The part boundary (dashed
line) can be identified with a
contour that follows points of
maximum concave curvature.
(From Stillings, N. A., Feinstein,
M. H., Garfield, J. L., Rissland, E. L.,
Rosenbaum, D. A., et al. (1987).
Cognitive Science: An introduction
(figure 12.17, page 495). Copyright
© 1987 Massachusetts Institute of
Technology, by permission of The
MIT Press.)
FIGURE 2.14 examples of stimuli
used by Palmer (1977) for study-
ing segmentation of novel figures.
(a) is the original stimulus that
participants saw; (b) through
(e) are the subparts of the
stimulus presented for recognition.
Stimuli shown in (b) and (c) were
recognized more rapidly than
those shown in (d) and (e).
Gestalt Psychology
Grouping Experiment
Anderson_8e_Ch02.indd 35 13/09/14 9:36 AM
36 / Chapter 2 P e r C e P T i O n
will first discuss pattern recognition with respect to letter identification and then
move on to a more general discussion of object recognition.
Template-Matching Models
Perhaps the most obvious way to recognize a pattern is by means of template
matching. The template-matching theory of perception proposes that a retinal
image of an object is faithfully transmitted to the brain, and the brain attempts
to compare the image directly to various stored patterns, called templates. The
basic idea is that the perceptual system tries to compare the image of a letter
to the templates it has for each letter and then reports the template that gives
the best match. Figure 2.16 illustrates various examples of successful and un-
successful template matching. In each case, an attempt is made to achieve a cor-
respondence between the retinal cells stimulated and the retinal cells specified
for a template pattern for a letter.
Figure 2.16a shows a case in which a correspondence is achieved and an A
is recognized. Figure 2.16b shows a case in which no correspondence is reached
between the input of an L and the template pattern for an A. But L is matched
in Figure 2.16c by the L template. However, things can very easily go wrong
with a template. Figure 2.16d shows a mismatch that occurs when the image
falls on the wrong part of the retina, and Figure 2.16e shows the problem when
the image is the wrong size. Figure 2.16f shows what happens when the image
is in a wrong orientation, and Figures 2.16g and 2.16h show the difficulty when
the images are nonstandard A’s.
Although there are these difficulties with template matching, it is one of the
methods used in machine vision (see Ullman, 1996), where procedures have been
developed for rotating, stretching, and otherwise modifying images to match.
Template matching is also used in fMRI brain imaging (see Chapter 1). Each
human brain is anatomically different, much as each human body is different.
When researchers claim regions like those in Figure 1.15 display activation pat-
terns like those in Figure 1.16, they typically are claiming that the same region
in the brains of each of their participants displayed that pattern. To determine
that it is the same region, they map the individual brains to a reference brain by
a sophisticated computer-based 3-D template-matching procedure. Although
template matching has enjoyed some success, there seem to be limitations to
FIGURE 2.16 examples of
attempts to match templates
to the letters A and L. The
little circles on the “input”
patterns represent the cells
actually stimulated on the
retina by a presentation
of the letter A or L, and
the little circles on the
“Template” patterns are the
retinal cells specified by a
template pattern for a letter.
(a) and (c) are successful
template-matching attempts;
(b) and (d) through (h) are
failed attempts.
TemplateTemplate
Input
Template
Input Input
Template
Input
Template
Input
(a) (b) (c) (d)
(e) (f) (g) (h)
Template
Input
Template
Input
Template
Input
Anderson_8e_Ch02.indd 36 13/09/14 9:36 AM
V i S u A l PAT T e r n r e C O g n i T i O n / 37
the abilities of computers to use template matching to recognize patterns, as
suggested in this chapter’s Implications Box on CAPTCHAs.
■ Template matching is a way to identify objects by aligning the stim-
ulus to a template of a pattern.
Feature Analysis
Partly because of the difficulties posed by template matching, psychologists
have proposed that pattern recognition occurs through feature analysis. In this
model, stimuli are thought of as combinations of elemental features. Table 2.1
from Gibson (1969) shows her proposal for the representation of the letters of
the alphabet in terms of features. For instance, the capital letter A can be seen
as consisting of a horizontal, two diagonals in opposite orientations, a line in-
tersection, symmetry, and a feature she called vertical discontinuity. So, some
Separating humans from BOTs
The special nature of human visual per-
ception motivated the development of
CAPTCHAs (Von Ahn, Blum, & langford,
2002). CAPTCHA stands for “Completely
Automated Public Turing test to tell Com-
puters and Humans Apart.” The motiva-
tion for CAPTCHAs comes from
real-world problems such as those faced
by YAHOO!, which offers free email ac-
counts. The problem is that automatic
BOTs will sign up for such accounts and
then use them to send SPAM. To test that
it is a real human, the system can present
images like those in Figure 2.17. use of
such CAPTCHAs is quite common on the
internet. Although template-based ap-
proaches may fail on recognizing such
figures, more sophisticated feature-based
character recognition algorithms have had
a fair degree of success (e.g., Mori &
Malik, 2003). This has led to more and
more difficult CAPTCHAs being used,
which unfortunately humans also have
great difficulty in decoding (Bursztein,
Bethard, Fabry, Mitchell, & Jurafsky,
2010). You can visit the CAPTCHA Web
site and contribute to the research at
http://w w w.captcha.net/.
I m p l I c a t I o n s
▼
▲
FIGURE 2.17 examples of CAPTCHAs that
humans can read but template-based com-
puter programs have great difficulty with.
(Staff KRT/Newscom.)
Anderson_8e_Ch02.indd 37 13/09/14 9:36 AM
http://w
38 / Chapter 2 P e r C e P T i O n
of these features, like the straight lines, can be thought of as outputs of the edge
and bar detectors in the visual cortex (see Figure 2.8).
You might wonder how feature analysis represents an advance beyond the
template model. After all, what are the features but minitemplates? The feature-
analysis model does have a number of advantages over the template model, how-
ever. First, because the features are simpler, it is easier to see how the system
might try to correct for the kinds of difficulties faced by the template-matching
model in recognizing full patterns as in Figure 2.16. Indeed, to the extent that
features are just line strokes, the bar and edge detectors we discussed earlier can
extract such features. Second, feature analysis makes it possible to specify those
relationships among the features that are most important to the pattern. For ex-
ample, in the case of the letter A, the critical point is that there are three lines
that intersect, two diagonals (in different directions) and one horizontal. Many
other details are unimportant. Thus, all the following patterns are A’s:
Finally, the use of features rather than larger patterns reduces the number of tem-
plates needed. In the feature-analysis model, we would not need a template for
each possible pattern but only for each feature. Because the same features tend to
occur in many patterns, the number of distinct entities to be represented would
be reduced considerably. Feature-based recognition is used in most modern
machine-based systems for character recognition such as those used on tablets
and smart phones. However, the features used by these machine-based systems
are often quite different than the features used by humans (Impedovo, 2013).
There is a fair amount of behavioral evidence for the existence of fea-
tures as components in pattern recognition. For instance, if letters have
many features in common—as C and G do, for example—evidence suggests
that people are particularly prone to confuse them (Kinney, Marsetta, &
TABLE 2.1 gibson’s Proposal for the Features underlying the recognition of letters
Features A E F H I L T K M N V W X Y Z B C D G J O P R Q S U
Straight
Horizontal + + + + + + + +
Vertical + + + + + + + + + + + + + +
Diagonal/ + + + + + + + + + + +
Diagonal\ + + + + + + + + + +
Curve
Closed + + + + + +
Open V + +
Open H + + + +
Intersection + + + + + + + +
Redundancy + + +
Cyclic
change
+ + + + +
Symmetry + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + +
Discontinuity
Vertical + + + + + + + + + + +
Horizontal + + + + +
+ indicates features for a particular letter.
Anderson_8e_Ch02.indd 38 13/09/14 9:36 AM
V i S u A l PAT T e r n r e C O g n i T i O n / 39
Showman, 1966). When such letters are presented for very brief intervals,
people often misclassify one stimulus as the other. So, for instance, partici-
pants in the Kinney et al. experiment made 29 errors when presented with
the letter G. Of these errors, there were 21 misclassifications as C, 6 misclas-
sifications as O, 1 misclassification as B, and 1 misclassification as 9. No other
errors occurred. It is clear that participants were choosing items with similar
feature sets as their responses. Such a response pattern is what we would ex-
pect if participants were using features as the basis for recognition. If partici-
pants could extract only some of the features in the brief presentation, they
would not be able to decide among stimuli that shared these features.
Another kind of experiment that yields evidence in favor of a feature-anal-
ysis model involves stabilized images. The eye has a very slight tremor, called
psychological nystagmus, which occurs at the rate of 30 to 70 cycles per second.
Also, the eye’s direction of gaze drifts slowly over an object. Consequently, the
retinal image of the object on which a person tries to focus is not perfectly con-
stant; its position changes slightly over time. This retinal movement is critical
for perception. When techniques are used to keep an image on the exact same
position of the retina regardless of eye movement, parts of the object start to
disappear from our perception. If the exact same retinal and nervous pathways
are used constantly, they become fatigued and stop responding.
The most interesting aspect of this phenomenon is the way the stabilized
object disappears. It does not simply fade away or vanish all at once. Instead,
different portions drop out over time. Figure 2.18 illustrates the fate of one of
the stimuli used in an experiment by Pritchard (1961). The leftmost item is
the image that was presented; the four others are various fragments that were
reported after the original image started to disappear. Two points are impor-
tant. First, whole features such as a vertical bar seemed to be lost. This find-
ing suggests that features are the important units in perception. Second, the
stimuli that remained tended to constitute complete letter or number patterns,
indicating that the remaining features are combined into recognizable patterns.
Thus, even though our perceptual system may extract features, what we actually
perceive are patterns composed from these features. The feature-extraction and
feature-combination processes that underlie pattern recognition are not avail-
able to conscious awareness; all that we are aware of are the resulting patterns.
■ Feature analysis involves recognizing first the separate features
that make up a pattern and then their combination.
Object Recognition
Feature analysis does a satisfactory job of describing how we recognize such
simple objects as the letter A, but can it explain our recognition of more com-
plex objects that might seem to defy description in terms of a few features?
There is evidence that similar processes might underlie the recognition of
familiar categories of objects such as horses or cups. The basic idea is that a
familiar object can be seen as a known configuration of simple components.
Figure 2.19 illustrates a proposal by Marr (1982) about how familiar objects can
FIGURE 2.18 The disintegration
of an image that is stabilized on
the eye. At far left is the original
image displayed. The partial
outlines to the right show various
patterns reported as the stabi-
lized image began to disappear.
(From Pritchard, 1961. Reprinted
by permission of the publisher.
© 1961 by Scientific American.)
Anderson_8e_Ch02.indd 39 13/09/14 9:36 AM
40 / Chapter 2 P e r C e P T i O n
be seen as configurations of simple pipelike components. For instance, an os-
trich has a horizontally oriented torso attached to two long legs and a long neck.
Biederman (1987) put forward the recognition-by-components theory.
It proposes that there are three stages in our recognition of an object as a
configuration of simpler components:
1. The object is segmented into a set of basic subobjects via a process that re-
flects the output of early visual processing, discussed earlier in this chapter.
2. Once an object has been segmented into basic subobjects, one can classify
the category of each subobject. Biederman (1987) suggested that there are
36 basic categories of subobjects, which he called geons (an abbreviation
of geometric ions). Figure 2.20 shows some examples. We can think of the
cylinder as being created by a circle as it is moved along a straight line (the
axis) perpendicular to its center. Other shapes can be created by varying the
generation process. We can change the shape of the object we are moving. If
Horse
Giraffe Ape Dove
Human Ostrich
FIGURE 2.19 Segmentation
of some familiar objects into
basic cylindrical shapes. Familiar
objects can be recognized as
configurations of simpler compo-
nents. (After Marr & Nishihara,
1978. © 1978 by the Royal
Society of London. Reprinted by
permission.)
Cone PyramidCylinder
HornFootball Wine glass
FIGURE 2.20 examples of Bieder-
man’s (1987) proposed geons,
or basic categories of subobjects.
in each object, the dashed line
represents the central axis of
the object. The objects can be
described in terms of the move-
ment of a cross-sectional shape
along an axis. Cylinder: A circle
moves along a straight axis. Cone:
A circle contracts as it moves
along a straight axis. Pyramid: A
square contracts as it moves along
a straight axis. Football: A circle
expands and then contracts as it
moves along a straight axis. Horn:
A circle contracts as it moves
along a curved axis. Wine glass: A
circle contracts and then expands,
creating concave segmentation
points, marked by arrows.
it is a rectangle rather than a circle that is moved
along the axis, we get a block instead of a cylin-
der. We can curve the axis and get objects that
curve. We can vary the size of the shape as we
are moving it and get objects like the pyramid
or wine glass. Biederman proposed that the 36
geons that can be generated in this manner serve
as an alphabet for composing objects, much
as letters serve as the alphabet for building up
words. Recognizing a geon involves recogniz-
ing the features that define it, which describe
elements of its generation such as the shape of
the object and the axis along which it is moved.
Thus, recognizing a geon from its features is like
recognizing a letter from its features.
3. Having identified the pieces from which the
object is composed and their configuration, one
Anderson_8e_Ch02.indd 40 13/09/14 9:36 AM
V i S u A l PAT T e r n r e C O g n i T i O n / 41
recognizes the object as the pattern formed by these pieces. Thus, recognizing
an object from its components is like recognizing a word from its letters.
As in the case of letter recognition, there are many small variations in the
underlying geons that should not be critical for recognition. For example, one
need only determine whether an edge is straight or curved (in discriminating,
say, a brick from a cylinder) or whether edges are parallel or not (in discrimi-
nating, say, a cylinder from a cone). It is not necessary to determine precisely
how curved an edge might be. Only very basic characteristics of edges are
needed to define geons. Color, texture, and small detail should not matter. If
this hypothesis is correct, schematic line drawings of complex objects that allow
the basic geons to be identified should be recognized just as quickly as detailed
color photographs of the objects. Biederman and Ju (1988) confirmed this hy-
pothesis experimentally: Schematic line drawings of such objects as telephones
provide all the information needed for quick and accurate recognition.
The crucial assumption in this theory is that object recognition is mediated
by the recognition of its components. Biederman, Beiring, Ju, and Blickle (1985)
performed a test of this prediction with objects
such as those shown in Figure 2.21. They pre-
sented these two types of degraded figures to
participants for various brief intervals and asked
them to identify the objects. In one type, whole
components of some objects were deleted; in
the other type, all the components were present,
but segments of the components were deleted.
Figure 2.22 shows that at very brief presenta-
tion times (65–100 ms), participants recognized
figures with component deletion more accu-
rately than figures with segment deletion, but
the opposite was true for the longer, 200-ms
presentation. Biederman et al. reasoned that at
the very brief intervals, participants were not
able to identify the components with segment
Complete Component
deletion
Midsegment
deletion
FIGURE 2.21 Sample stimuli
used by Biederman et al. (1985)
to test the theory that object
recognition is mediated by
recognition of components of the
object. equivalent proportions
either of whole components
or of contours at midsegments
were removed. results of
the experiment are shown in
Figure 2.22. (Adapted from
Biederman, I. (1987). Recognition-
by-components: A theory of
human image understanding.
Psychological review, 94, 115–147.
Copyright © 1987 American
Psychological Association. Adapted
by permission.)
FIGURE 2.22 results from the
test conducted by Biederman,
Beiring, Ju, and Blickle (1985) to
determine whether object recogni-
tion is mediated by recognition of
components of the object. Mean
percentage of errors of object
naming is plotted as a function
of the type of contour removal
(deletion of midsegments or
of entire components) and of
exposure duration. (Data from
Biederman, 1987.)
Midsegment deletion
Component deletion
40
30
20
10
10065 200
Exposure duration (ms)
M
ea
n
(%
) e
rro
r
Contour Deletion
Anderson_8e_Ch02.indd 41 13/09/14 9:36 AM
42 / Chapter 2 P e r C e P T i O n
deletion and so had difficulty in recognizing the objects. With 200 ms of exposure,
however, participants were able to recognize all the components in either condi-
tion. Because there were more components in the condition with segment dele-
tion, they had more information about object identity.
■ Complex objects are recognized as configurations of a set of subob-
jects defined by simple features.
Face Recognition
Faces make up one of the most important categories of visual stimuli, and
some evidence suggests that we have special mechanisms to recognize some-
one’s face. Special cells that respond preferentially to the faces of other mon-
keys have been found in the temporal lobes of monkeys (Baylis, Rolls, &
Leonard, 1985; Rolls, 1992). Damage to the temporal lobe in humans can
result in a deficit called prosopagnosia, in which people have selective
difficulties in recognizing faces. Brain-imaging studies using fMRI have
found a particular region of the temporal lobe, called the fusiform gyrus, that
responds when faces are present in the visual field (e.g., Ishai, Ungerleider,
Martin, Maisog, & Haxby, 1997; Kanwisher, McDermott, & Chun, 1997;
McCarthy, Puce, Gore, & Allison, 1997).
Other evidence that the processing of faces is special comes from re-
search that examined the recognition of faces turned upside down. In one of
the original studies, Yin (1969) found that people are much better at recogniz-
ing faces when the faces are presented in their upright orientation than they
are at recognizing other categories of objects, such as houses, presented in the
upright orientation. When a face is presented upside down, however, there is
a dramatic decrease in its recognition; this is not true of other objects. Thus,
it appears that we are specially attuned to recognizing faces. Studies have also
found somewhat reduced fMRI response in the fusiform gyrus when inverted
faces are presented (Haxby et al., 1999; Kanwisher, Tong, & Nakayama, 1998).
In addition, we are much better at recognizing parts of a face (a nose, say)
when it is presented in context, whereas recognizing parts of a house (for ex-
ample, a window) is not as context dependent (Tanaka & Farah, 1993). All this
evidence leads some researchers to think that we are specifically predisposed
to identify whole faces, and it is sometimes argued that this special capability
was acquired through evolution.
Other research questions whether the fusiform gyrus is specialized for just face
recognition and presents evidence that it is involved in making fine-grained dis-
tinctions generally. For instance, Gauthier, Skudlarski, Gore, and Anderson (2000)
found that bird experts or car experts showed high activation in the fusiform gyrus
when they made judgments about birds or cars. In another study, people given a lot
of practice at recognizing a set of unfamiliar objects called greebles (Figure 2.23)
showed activation in the fusiform gyrus. Studies like these support the idea that,
because of our great familiarity with faces, we are good at making such fine-grained
judgments in recognizing them, but similar effects can be found with other stimuli
with which we have had a lot of experience.
There have been rapid improvements in
face-recognition software, as most users of
Facebook are aware. In some circumstances
this software outperforms humans. This has
brought up concerns about privacy (see the
60 Minutes episode “A Face in the Crowd: Say
Goodbye to Anonymity,” which is available
online). Interestingly, these systems are quite
FIGURE 2.23 “greeble experts”
use the face area when recogniz-
ing these objects. (From Gauthier,
Tarr, Anderson, Skudlarski, & Gore,
1999. Reprinted by permission
from Macmillan Publishers Ltd.,
© 1999.)
Inversion Effect
Anderson_8e_Ch02.indd 42 13/09/14 9:36 AM
S P e e C H r e C O g n i T i O n / 43
specialized to perform only face recognition. So even though humans may not
have a specialized system for face recognition, modern computer applications do.
■ The fusiform gyrus, located in the temporal lobe, becomes active
when people recognize faces.
◆ Speech Recognition
Up to this point, we have considered only visual pattern recognition. An inter-
esting test of the generality of our conclusions is whether they extend to speech
recognition. Although we will not discuss the details of early speech processing,
it is worth noting that similar issues arise, especially the issue of segmentation.
Speech is not broken into discrete units the way printed text is. Although well-
defined gaps between words seem to exist in speech, these gaps are often an
illusion. If we examine the actual physical speech signal, we often find undi-
minished sound energy at word boundaries. Indeed, gaps in sound energy are
as likely to occur within a word as between words. This property of speech is
particularly compelling when we listen to someone speaking an unfamiliar for-
eign language. The speech appears to be a continuous stream of sounds with no
obvious word boundaries. It is our familiarity with our own language that leads
to the illusion of word boundaries.
Within a single word, even greater segmentation problems exist. These
intraword problems involve the identification of phonemes. Phonemes are
the basic units for speech recognition.1 A phoneme is defined as the minimal
unit of speech that can result in a difference in the spoken message. To
illustrate, consider the word bat. This word is composed of three phonemes:
/b/, /a/, and /t/. Replacing /b/ with the phoneme /p/, we get pat; replacing
/a/ with /i/ we get bit; replacing /t/ with /n/, we get ban. Obviously, a
one-to-one correspondence does not always exist between letters and
phonemes. For example, the word one consists of the phonemes /w/, /e/, and
/n/; school consists of the phonemes /s/, /k/, /ú/, and /l/; and knight consists of
/n/, /ī /, and /t/. It is the lack of perfect letter-to-phoneme correspondence that
makes English spelling so difficult.
A segmentation problem arises when the phonemes composing a spoken
word need to be identified. The difficulty is that speech is continuous, and pho-
nemes are not discrete in the way letters are on a printed page. Segmentation at
this level is like recognizing a written (not printed) message, where one letter
runs into another. Also, as in the case of writing, different speakers vary in the
way they produce the same phonemes. The variation among speakers is dra-
matically clear, for instance, when a person first tries to understand a speaker
with a strong and unfamiliar accent. Examination of the speech signal, however,
will reveal that even among speakers with the same accent, considerable vari-
ation exists. For instance, the voices of women and children normally have a
much higher pitch than those of men.
A further difficulty in speech perception involves a phenomenon known as
coarticulation (Liberman, 1970). As the vocal tract is producing one sound—
say, the /b/ in bag—it is moving toward the shape it needs for the /a/. As it is
saying the /a/, it is moving to produce the /g/. In effect, the various phonemes
overlap. This means additional difficulties in segmenting phonemes, and it also
means that the actual sound produced for one phoneme will be determined by
the context of the other phonemes.
1 Massaro (1996) presents an often proposed alternative that the basic perceptual units are consonant-
vowel and vowel-consonant combinations.
Anderson_8e_Ch02.indd 43 13/09/14 9:36 AM
44 / Chapter 2 P e r C e P T i O n
Speech perception poses information-processing demands that are in many
ways greater than what is involved in other kinds of auditory perception. Research-
ers have identified a number of patients who have lost just the ability to recognize
speech, as a result of injury to the left temporal lobe (see M. N. Goldstein, 1974,
for a review). Their ability to detect and recognize other sounds and to speak is in-
tact. Thus, their deficit is specific to speech perception. Occasionally, such patients
have some success if the speech they are trying to hear is very slow (e.g., Okada,
Hanada, Hattori, & Shoyama, 1963), which suggests that some of the problem
might lie in segmenting the speech stream.
■ Speech recognition involves segmenting phonemes from the contin-
uous speech stream.
Feature Analysis of Speech
Feature-analysis and feature-combination processes seem to underlie speech
perception, much as they do visual recognition. As with individual letters, in-
dividual phonemes can be analyzed into a number of features. These features
refer to aspects of how the phoneme is generated. Among the features of pho-
nemes are the consonantal feature, voicing, and the place of articulation
(Chomsky & Halle, 1968). The consonantal feature is the consonant-like qual-
ity of a phoneme (in contrast to a vowel-like quality). Voicing is a feature of
phonemes produced by vibration of the vocal cords. For example, the phoneme
/z/ in the word zip has voicing, whereas the phoneme /s/ in the word sip does
not. You can detect this difference between /z/ and /s/ by placing your fingers
on your larynx as you generate the buzzing sound zzzz versus the hissing sound
ssss. You will feel the vibration of your larynx for zzzz but not for ssss.
Place of articulation refers to the location at which the vocal tract is
closed or constricted in the production of a phoneme. (It is closed at some
point in the utterance of most consonants.) For instance, /p/, /m/, and /w/ are
considered bilabial because the lips are closed while they are being generated.
The phonemes /f/ and /v/ are considered labiodental because the bottom lip
is pressed against the front teeth. Two different phonemes are represented by
/th/—one in thy and the other in thigh. Both are dental because the tongue
presses against the teeth. The phonemes /t/, /d/, /s/, /z/, /n/, /l/, and /r/ are all
alveolar because the tongue presses against the alveolar ridge of the gums just
behind the upper front teeth. The phonemes /sh/, /ch/, /j/, and /y/ are all pal-
atal because the tongue presses against the roof of the mouth just behind the
alveolar ridge. The phonemes /k/ and /g/ are velar because the tongue presses
against the soft palate, or velum, in the rear roof of the mouth.
Consider the phonemes /p/, /b/, /t/, and /d/. All share the feature of being
consonants. The four can be distinguished, however, by voicing and place of
articulation. Table 2.2 classifies these four phonemes according to these two
features.
Considerable evidence exists for the role of such features in
speech perception. For instance, Miller and Nicely (1955) had par-
ticipants try to recognize phonemes such as /b/, /d/, /p/, and /t/
when they were presented in noise.2 Participants exhibited confu-
sion, thinking they had heard one sound in the noise when in re-
ality another sound had been presented. The experimenters were
interested in which sounds participants would confuse with which
other sounds. It seemed likely that they would most often confuse
2 Actually, participants were presented with the sounds ba, da, pa, and ta.
Place of
Articulation
Voicing
Voiced Unvoiced
Bilabial
Alveolar
/b/ /p/
/d/ /t/
TABLE 2.2 The Classification of /b/, /p/,
/d/, and /t/ According to Voicing and Place
of Articulation
Anderson_8e_Ch02.indd 44 13/09/14 9:36 AM
C AT e g O r i C A l P e r C e P T i O n / 45
consonants that were distinguished by just a single feature, and this prediction
was confirmed. To illustrate, when presented with /p/, participants more often
thought that they had heard /t/ than that they had heard /d/. The phoneme /t/
differs from /p/ only in place of articulation, whereas /d/ differs both in place of
articulation and in voicing. Similarly, participants presented with /b/ more often
thought they heard /p/ than /t/.
This experiment is an earlier demonstration of the kind of logic we saw in
the Kinney et al. (1966) study on letter recognition. When the participant could
identify only a subset of the features underlying a pattern (in this case, the pat-
tern is a phoneme), the participant’s responses reflected confusion among the
phonemes sharing the same subset of features.
■ Phonemes are recognized in terms of features involved in their pro-
duction, such as place of articulation and voicing.
◆ Categorical Perception
The features of phonemes result from the ways in which they are articulated.
What properties of the acoustic stimulus encode these articulatory features?
This issue has been particularly well researched in the case of voicing. In the
pronunciation of such consonants as /b/ and /p/, two things happen: The closed
lips open, releasing air, and the vocal cords begin to vibrate (voicing). In the
case of the voiced consonant /b/, the release of air and the vibration of the vocal
cords are nearly simultaneous. In the case of the unvoiced consonant /p/, the
release occurs 60 ms before the vibration begins. What we are detecting when
we perceive a voiced versus an unvoiced consonant is the presence or absence
of a 60-ms interval between release and voicing. This period of time is referred
to as the voice-onset time. The difference between /p/ and /b/ is illustrated in
Figure 2.24. Similar differences exist in other voiced-unvoiced pairs, such as /d/
and /t/. Again, the factor controlling the perception of a phoneme is the delay
between the release of air and the vibration of the vocal cords.
Lisker and Abramson (1970) performed experiments with artificial
(computer-generated) stimuli in which the delay between the release of air and
the onset of voicing was varied from –150 ms (voicing occurred 150 ms before
release) to +150 ms (voicing occurred 150 ms after release). The participant’s
task was to identify which sounds were /b/’s and which were /p/’s. Figure 2.25
plots the percentage of /b/ identifications and /p/ identifications. Throughout
most of the continuum, participants agreed 100% on what they heard, but there
was a sharp switch from /b/ to /p/ at about 25 ms. At a 10-ms voice-onset time,
participants were in nearly unanimous agreement that the sound was a /b/; at
40 ms, they were in nearly unanimous agreement that the sound was a /p/. Be-
cause of this sharp boundary between the voiced and unvoiced phonemes, per-
ception of this feature is referred to as categorical. Categorical perception is
�100 0
Lips released
Time (ms)
Voicing
Voicing
/b/
/p/
+60 +100
FIGURE 2.24 The difference be-
tween the voiced consonant /b/
and the unvoiced consonant /p/
is the delay in the case of /p/
between the release of the lips
and the onset of voicing. (Data
from Clark & Clark, 1977.)
Anderson_8e_Ch02.indd 45 13/09/14 9:36 AM
46 / Chapter 2 P e r C e P T i O n
the perception of stimuli as belonging in distinct categories and the failure to
perceive the gradations among stimuli within a category.
Other evidence for categorical perception of speech comes from discrimi-
nation studies (see Studdert-Kennedy, 1976, for a review). People are very poor
at discriminating between a pair of /b/’s or a pair of /p/’s that differ in voice-
onset time but are on the same side of the phonemic boundary. However, they
are good at discriminating between pairs that have the same difference in voice-
onset time but one item of the pair is on the /b/ side of the boundary and the
other item is on the /p/ side. It seems that people can identify the phonemic
category of a sound but cannot discriminate sounds within that phonemic cat-
egory. Thus, people are able to discriminate two sounds only if they fall on dif-
ferent sides of a phonemic boundary.
There are at least two views of exactly what is meant by categorical per-
ception, which differ in the strength of their claims about the nature of percep-
tion. The weaker view is that we experience stimuli as coming from distinct
categories. There seems to be little dispute that the perception of phonemes
is categorical in this sense. A stronger viewpoint is that we cannot discrimi-
nate among stimuli within a category. Massaro (1992) has taken issue with
this viewpoint, and he has argued that there is some residual ability to dis-
criminate within categories. While there is discriminability within catego-
ries, it is typical to find that people can better make discriminations that cross
category boundaries (Goldstone & Hendrickson, 2010). Thus, there is increased
discriminability between categories (acquired distinctiveness) and decreased
discriminability within categories (acquired equivalence).
Another line of research that provides evidence for use of the voicing fea-
ture in speech recognition involves an adaptation paradigm. Eimas and Corbit
(1973) had their participants listen to repeated presentations of the sound da,
which involves the voiced consonant /d/. The experimenters reasoned that, if
there were a voicing detector, the constant repetition of the voiced consonant
might fatigue it so that it would require a stronger indication of voicing. They
presented participants with a series of artificial sounds that spanned the acous-
tic range across distinct categories of phonemes that differed only in voicing—
such as the range between ba and pa (as in the Lisker & Abramson, 1970, study
mentioned earlier). Participants then indicated whether each of these artificial
stimuli sounded more like ba or more like pa. Eimas and Corbit found that some
of the stimuli participants would normally have called the voiced ba, they now
called the voiceless pa. Thus, the repeated presentation of da had fatigued the
Voice onset time (ms)
/b/ /p/
Id
en
tif
ica
tio
n
(%
)
0
20
40
60
80
100
�100 �50 0 +50 +100 +150
FIGURE 2.25 Percentage iden-
tification of /b/ versus /p/ as
a function of voice-onset time.
A sharp shift in these iden-
tification functions occurred
at about +25 ms. (Data from
Lisker & Abramson, 1970.)
Anderson_8e_Ch02.indd 46 13/09/14 9:36 AM
C O n T e x T A n D PAT T e r n r e C O g n i T i O n / 47
voiced feature detector and raised the threshold for detecting voicing in ba, mak-
ing many former ba stimuli sound like pa.
Although there is general consensus that speech perception is categorical
in some sense, there is considerable debate about what the mechanism is
behind this phenomenon. Some researchers (e.g., Liberman & Mattingly, 1985)
have argued that this reflects special speech perception mechanisms that en-
able people to perceive how the sounds were generated. Consider, for instance,
the categorical distinction between how voiced and unvoiced consonants are
produced—either the vocal cords vibrate during the consonant or they do not.
This has been used to argue that we perceive voicing by perceiving how the con-
sonants are spoken. However, there is evidence that categorical perception is not
tied to humans processing language but rather reflects a general property of how
certain sounds are perceived. For instance, Pisoni (1977) created nonlinguistic
tones that had a similar distinguishing acoustic feature as present in voicing—a
low-frequency tone that is either simultaneous with a high-frequency tone or lags
it by 60 ms. His participants showed abrupt boundaries like those in Figure 2.24
for speech signals. In another study, Kuhl (1987) trained chinchillas to discrimi-
nate between a voiced da and an unvoiced ta. Even though these animals do not
have a human vocal track, they showed the sharp boundary between these stim-
uli that humans do. Thus, it seems that categorical perception depends on neither
the signal being speech (Pisoni, 1977) nor the perceiver having a human vocal
system (Kuhl, 1987). Diehl, Lotto, and Holt (2004) have argued that the pho-
nemes we use are chosen because they match up with boundaries already present
in our auditory system. So it is more a case of our perceptual system determining
our speech behavior than vice versa.
■ Speech sounds differing on continuous dimensions are perceived as
coming from distinct categories.
◆ Context and Pattern Recognition
So far, we have considered pattern recognition as if the only information avail-
able to a pattern-recognition system were the information in the physical stim-
ulus to be recognized. This is not the case, however. Objects occur in context,
and we can use context to help us recognize objects. Consider the example in
Figure 2.26. We perceive the symbols as THE and CAT, even though the spe-
cific symbols drawn for H and A are identical. The general context provided
by the words forces the appropriate interpretation. When context or general
knowledge of the world guides perception, we refer to the processing as top-
down processing, because high-level general knowledge contributes to the in-
terpretation of the low-level perceptual units. A general issue in perception is
how such top-down processing is combined with the bottom-up processing of
information from the stimulus itself, without regard to the general context.
One important line of research in top-down effects comes from a series
of experiments on letter identification, starting with those of Reicher (1969)
and Wheeler (1970). Participants were presented very briefly with either a let-
ter (such as D) or a word (such as WORD). Immediately afterward, they were
given a pair of alternatives and instructed to report which alternative they had
seen. (The initial presentation was sufficiently brief that par-
ticipants made a good many errors in this identification task.)
If they had been shown the letter D, they might be presented
with D and K as alternatives. If they had been shown WORD,
they might be given WORD and WORK as alternatives. Note
that both choices differed only in the letter D or K. Participants
FIGURE 2.26 A demonstration
of context. The same stimulus
is perceived as an H or an A,
depending on the context. (From
Selfridge, 1955. Reprinted by per-
mission of the publisher. © 1955
by the Institute of Electrical and
Electronics Engineers.)
Anderson_8e_Ch02.indd 47 13/09/14 9:36 AM
48 / Chapter 2 P e r C e P T i O n
were about 10% more accurate in identifying the
word than in identifying the letter alone. Thus, they
discriminated between D and K better in the context
of a word than as letters alone—even though, in a
sense, they had to process four times as many letters
in the word context. This phenomenon is known as
the word superiority effect.
Figure 2.27 illustrates an explanation given by
Rumelhart and Siple (1974) and Thompson and
Massaro (1973) for why people are more accurate when
identifying the letter in the word context. The figure
illustrates the products of incomplete perception: Cer-
tain parts of the word cannot be detected—in part (a)
just the last letter is obscured, whereas in part (b) mul-
tiple letters are obscured. If the last letter were all that a
participant was shown, the participant would not be
able to say whether that letter was a K or an R. Thus, the
stimulus information is not enough to identify the letter.
On the other hand, the context is not enough by itself
either—although it is pretty clear in part (a) that the first
three letters are WOR, there are a number of four-letter
words consistent with a WOR beginning: WORD, WORE, WORK, WORM, WORN,
WORT. However, if the participant combines the information from the stimulus with
the information from the context, the whole word must be WORK, which implies K
was the last letter. It is not that participants see the K better in the context of WOR
but that they are better able to infer that K is the fourth letter. The participants are
not conscious of these inferences, however; so they are said to make unconscious
inferences in the act of perception. Note that participants given the alternatives
D and K must not have had conscious access to specific features such as the target
letter having a lower right diagonal, or they would have been able to choose correctly.
Rather, the participants have conscious access only to the whole word or whole let-
ter that the perceptual system has perceived. Note that this analysis is not restricted
to the case where the context letters are unambiguous. In part (b), the second letter
could be an O or a U and the third letter could be a B, P, or R. Still, WORK is the only
possible word.
This example illustrates the redundancy present in many complex stimuli
such as words. These stimuli consist of many more features than are required to
distinguish one stimulus from another. Thus, perception can proceed success-
fully when only some of the features are recognized, with context filling in the
remaining features. In language, this redundancy exists on many levels besides
the feature level. For instance, redundancy occurs at the letter level. We do not
need to perceive every letter in a string of words to be able
to read it. To xllxstxatx, I cxn rxplxce xvexy txirx lextex of
x sextexce xitx an x, anx yox stxll xan xanxge xo rxad xt—ix
wixh sxme xifxicxltx.
■ Word context can be used to supplement feature in-
formation in the recognition of letters.
Massaro’s FLMP Model for Combination
of Context and Feature Information
We have reviewed the effects of context on pattern recogni-
tion in a variety of perceptual situations, but the question of
WORK
WORK
(a)
(b)
FIGURE 2.27 A hypothetical set
of features that might be extracted
on a trial in an experiment of word
perception: (a) when only the last
letter is obscured; (b) when multi-
ple letters are obscured.
FIGURE 2.28 Contextual clues
used by Massaro (1979) to study
how participants combine stimu-
lus information from a letter with
context information from the sur-
rounding letters. (From Massaro,
D. W., Letter information and ortho-
graphic context in word perception,
Journal of experimental Psychology:
Human Perception and Perfor-
mance, 5, 595–609. Copyright ©
1979 American Psychological Asso-
cation. Reprinted by permission.)
Word Superiority
Anderson_8e_Ch02.indd 48 13/09/14 9:36 AM
C O n T e x T A n D PAT T e r n r e C O g n i T i O n / 49
1.0
.9
.8
.7
.6
.5
.4
.3
.2
.1
0
2 3 4 5
Stimulus value
Only c
Pr
ob
ab
ilit
y
of
e
re
sp
on
se
1
c
6
e
Both e and c
Only e
Neither
e nor c
FIGURE 2.29 Probability of an e
response as a function of the stimu-
lus value of the test letter and of
the orthographic context. The lines
reflect the predictions of Massaro’s
FlMP model. The leftmost line is for
the case where the context provides
evidence only for e. The middle line
is the same prediction when the
context provides evidence for both e
and c or when it provides evidence
for neither e nor c. The rightmost line
is for the case where the context pro-
vides evidence only for c. (Data from
Massaro, 1979.)
how to understand these effects still remains. Massaro
has argued that the perceptual information and the
context provide two independent sources of informa-
tion about the identity of the stimulus and that they
are just combined to provide a best guess of what the
stimulus might be. Figure 2.28 shows examples of the
material he used in a test of recognition of the letter c
versus the letter e.
The four quadrants represent four possibilities in
the amount of contextual evidence: Only an e can make
a word, only a c can make a word, both letters can make
a word, or neither can make a word. As one reads down
within a quadrant, the image of the ambiguous letter
provides more evidence for letter e and less for letter c.
Participants were briefly exposed to these stimuli and
asked to identify the letter. Figure 2.29 shows the results
as a function of stimulus and context information. As
the image of the letter itself provided more evidence for
an e, the probability of the participants’ identifying an
e went up. Similarly, the probability of identifying an e
increased as the context provided more evidence.
Massaro argued that these data reflect an inde-
pendent combination of evidence from the context and
evidence from the letter stimulus. He assumed that the
letter stimulus represents some evidence Lc for the letter c and that the context
also provides some evidence Cc for the letter c. He assumed that these evidences
can be scaled on a range of 0 to 1 and can be thought of basically as probabilities,
which he called “fuzzy truth values.” Because probabilities sum to 1, the evidence
for e from the letter stimulus is Le = 1 – Lc, and the evidence from the context is
Ce = 1 – Cc. Given these probabilities, then, the overall probability for a c is
p(c) 5
Lc 3 Cc
(Lc 3 Cc) 1 (Le 3 Ce)
The lines in Figure 2.29 illustrate the predictions from his theory. In gen-
eral, Massaro’s theory (called FLMP for fuzzy logical model of perception)
has done a very good job of accounting for the combination of context and
stimulus information in pattern recognition.
■ Massaro’s FLMP model of perception proposes that contextual
information combines independently with stimulus information to
determine what pattern is perceived.
Other Examples of Context and Recognition
Word recognition is one case for which there have been detailed analyses
of contextual influences, but contextual effects are ubiquitous. For instance,
equally good evidence exists for the role of context in the perception of speech.
A nice illustration is the phoneme-restoration effect, originally demonstrated
in an experiment by Warren (1970). He asked participants to listen to the sen-
tence “The state governors met with their respective legislatures convening in
the capital city,” with a 120-ms tone replacing the middle s in legislatures. Only
1 in 20 participants reported hearing the pure tone, and that participant was
not able to locate it correctly.
Anderson_8e_Ch02.indd 49 13/09/14 9:36 AM
50 / Chapter 2 P e r C e P T i O n
An interesting extension of this first study was an experiment by Warren and
Warren (1970). They presented participants with sentences such as the following:
It was found that the *eel was on the axle.
It was found that the *eel was on the shoe.
It was found that the *eel was on the orange.
It was found that the *eel was on the table.
In each case, the * denotes a phoneme replaced by nonspeech. For the four sen-
tences above, participants reported hearing wheel, heel, peel, and meal, depending
on context. The important feature to note about each of these sentences is that
they are identical through the critical word. The identification of the critical word
is determined by what occurs after it. Thus, the identification of words often is
not instantaneous but can depend on the perception of subsequent words.
Context also appears to be important for the perception of complex visual
scenes. Biederman, Glass, and Stacy (1973) looked at the perception of objects
in novel scenes. Figure 2.30 illustrates the two kinds of scenes presented to
their participants. Figure 2.30a shows a normal scene; in Figure 2.30b, the same
scene is jumbled. Participants viewed one of the scenes briefly on a screen, and
immediately thereafter an arrow pointed to a position on a now-blank screen
where an object had been moments before. Participants were asked to identify
the object that had been in that position in the scene. For example, the arrow
might have pointed to the location of the fire hydrant. Participants were consid-
erably more accurate in their identifications when they had viewed the coherent
picture than when they had viewed the jumbled picture. Thus, as with the pro-
cessing of written text or speech, people are able to use context in a visual scene
to help in their identification of an object.
One of the most dramatic examples of the influence of context on percep-
tion involves a phenomenon called change blindness. As I will discuss in detail in
Chapter 3, people are unable to keep track of all the information in a typical com-
plex scene. If elements of the scene change at the same time as some retinal distur-
bance occurs (such as an eye movement or a scene-cut in a motion picture), people
often fail to detect the change. The original studies on change blindness (McConkie
& Currie, 1996) introduced large changes in pictures that participants were viewing
while they were making an eye movement. For instance, the color of a car in the
(a) (b)
FIGURE 2.30 Scenes used by Biederman, glass, and Stacy (1973) in their study of
the role of context in the recognition of complex visual scenes: (a) a coherent scene;
(b) a jumbled scene. it is harder to recognize the fire hydrant in the jumbled scene.
(From Biederman, Glass, & Stacy, 1973. Reprinted by permission of the publisher. © 1973
by the American Psychological Association.)
Anderson_8e_Ch02.indd 50 13/09/14 9:36 AM
C O n C l u S i O n S / 51
picture might change and the change might not be noticed. Figure 2.31 illustrates a
dramatic instance of change blindness (Simons & Levin, 1998) where it seems con-
text is also promoting the insensitivity to change. The experimenter stopped pedes-
trians on Cornell University’s campus and asked for directions. While the unwit-
ting participant was giving the directions, workers carrying a door passed between
the experimenter and the participant and an accomplice took the place of the ex-
perimenter. Only 7 of the 15 participants noticed the change. In the scene shown
in Figure 2.31, the participants thought of themselves as giving instructions to a
student, and as long as the changed experimenter fit that interpretation, they did
not process him as different. In a laboratory study of the ability to detect changes
in people’s faces, Beck, Rees, Frith, and Lavie (2001) found greater activation in the
fusiform gyrus (see the earlier discussion of face recognition) when face changes
were detected than when they were not.
■ Contextual information biases perceptual processing in a wide
variety of situations.
◆ Conclusions
This chapter discusses how the neurons process sensory information and deliver it
to the higher centers in the brain, and how the information then becomes recog-
nizable as objects. Figure 2.32 depicts the overall flow of information processing in
the case of vision perception. Perception begins with light energy from the exter-
nal environment. Receptors, such as those on the retina, transform this energy into
neural information. Early sensory processing makes initial sense of the information
by extracting features to yield what Marr called the primal sketch. These features
are combined with depth information to get a representation of the location of sur-
faces in space; this is Marr’s 2½-D sketch. The gestalt principles of organization are
applied to segment the elements into objects; this is Marr’s 3-D model. Finally, the
features of these objects and the general context information are combined to rec-
ognize the objects. The output of this last level is a representation of the objects and
their locations in the environment, and this is what we are consciously aware of in
perception. This information is the input to the higher level cognitive processes.
Figure 2.32 illustrates an important point: A great deal of information processing
must take place before we are consciously aware of the objects we are perceiving.
FIGURE 2.31 An example of change blindness. Frames showing how one experimenter
switched places with an accomplice as workers carrying a door passed between the experi-
menter and an unwitting participant. Only 7 of the 15 participants noticed the change.
Light energy
Primal sketch
2 ½-D sketch
3-D model
Recognized
objects
Feature extraction
Depth information
Gestalt principles
of organization
Feature combination,
contextual information
FIGURE 2.32 How information
flows from the environment and
is processed into our perceptual
representation of recognized ob-
jects. The ovals represent differ-
ent levels of information in Marr’s
(1982) model and the lines are
labeled with the perceptual pro-
cesses that transform one level of
information into the next.
Anderson_8e_Ch02.indd 51 13/09/14 9:36 AM
52 / Chapter 2 P e r C e P T i O n
Questions for Thought
1. Figure 2.33a illustrates an optical illusion called
Mach Bands after the Austrian physicist and
philosopher, Ernst Mach, who discovered them.
Each band is a uniform shade of gray and yet it
appears lighter on the right side near the darker
adjacent band, and it appears darker on the left
side near the lighter band. Can you explain why,
using on-off cells, edge detectors, and bar detec-
tors in your explanation (see Figures 2.7 and 2.8)?
2. Use the gestalt principles to explain why we tend
to see two triangles in Figure 2.33b.
3. Rather than Biederman’s geon proposal
(see Figure 2.20), which involves recognizing
objects by recognizing abstract features of
their components, Ullman (2006) proposes we
recognize objects by recognizing fragments
like those in Figure 2.33c. What might be the
relative strengths of the geon theory versus the
fragment-based theory?
4. In Figure 2.21, we see that presented with the
stimulus “cdit,” there is an increased tendency
for participants to say that they have seen “edit,”
which makes a word. Some people describe this
as a case of context distorting perception. Do you
agree that this is a case of distortion?
FIGURE 2.33 (a) Mach bands; (b) demonstration of gestalt principles of organization; (c) fragments for recognizing a horse
from ullman (2006). (Epshtein, Lifshitz, & Ullman, 2008. Copyright 2008 National Academy of Sciences U.S.A.)
Key Terms
2½-D sketch
3-D model
apperceptive agnosia
associative agnosia
bar detectors
bottom-up processing
categorical perception
change blindness
consonantal feature
edge detectors
feature analysis
feature maps
fovea
fusiform gyrus
fuzzy logical model of
perception (FLMP)
geons
gestalt principles of
organization
phonemes
phoneme-restoration
effect
place of articulation
primal sketch
prosopagnosia
recognition-by-
components theory
template matching
top-down processing
visual agnosia
voicing
word superiority effect
Figures for Questions for Thought
(a)
(b)
(c)
Anderson_8e_Ch02.indd 52 13/09/14 9:36 AM
53
Chapter 2 described how the human visual system and other perceptual systems
simultaneously process information from all over their sensory fields. However,
we have limits on how much we can do in parallel. In many situations, we can
attend to only one spoken message or one visual object at a time. This chapter
explores how higher level cognition determines what to attend to. We will consider
the following questions:
● In a busy world filled with sounds, how do we select what to listen to?
● How do we find meaningful information within a complex visual scene?
● What role does attention play in putting visual patterns together as recognizable
objects?
● How do we coordinate parallel activities like driving a car and holding a
conversation?
◆ Serial Bottlenecks
Psychologists have proposed that there are serial bottlenecks in human in-
formation processing, points at which it is no longer possible to continue
processing everything in parallel. For example, it is generally accepted that
there are limits to parallelism in the motor systems. Although most of us can
perform separate actions simultaneously when the actions involve different
motor systems (such as walking and chewing gum), we have difficulty in
getting one motor system to do two things at once. Thus, even though we have
two hands, we have only one system for moving our hands, so it is hard to get
our two hands to move in different ways at the same time. Think of the familiar
problem of trying to pat your head while rubbing your stomach. It is hard to
prevent one of the movements from dominating—if you are like me, you tend
to wind up rubbing or patting both parts of the body.1 The many human motor
systems—one for moving feet, one for moving hands, one for moving eyes, and
so on—can and do work independently and simultaneously, but it is difficult to
get any one of these systems to do two things at the same time.
One question that has occupied psychologists is how early do the bot-
tlenecks occur: before we perceive the stimulus, after we perceive the stimu-
lus but before we think about it, or only just before motor action is required?
Common sense suggests that some things cannot be done at the same time.
1 Drummers (including my son) are particularly good at doing this—I definitely am not a drummer. This
suggests that the real problem might be motor timing.
3
Attention and Performance
Anderson_8e_Ch03.indd 53 13/09/14 9:37 AM
54 / Chapter 3 AT T e n T I o n A n d P e r f o r m A n C e
For instance, it is basically impossible to add two
digits and multiply them simultaneously. Still, there
remains the question of just where the bottlenecks in
information processing lie. Various theories about
when they happen are referred to as early-selection
theories or late-selection theories, depending on
where they propose that bottlenecks take place. Wher-
ever there is a bottleneck, our cognitive processes
must select which pieces of information to attend to
and which to ignore. The study of attention is con-
cerned with where these bottlenecks occur and how
information is selected at these bottlenecks.
A major distinction in the study of attention is be-
tween goal-directed factors (sometimes called endog-
enous control) and stimulus-driven factors (sometimes
called exogenous control). To illustrate the distinction,
Corbetta and Shulman (2002) ask us to imagine our-
selves at Madrid’s El Prado Museum, looking at the
right panel of Bosch’s painting The Garden of Earthly
Delights (see Color Plate 3.1). Initially, our eyes will
probably be drawn to large, salient objects like the instrument in the center
of the picture. This would be an instance of stimulus-driven attention—it is
not that we wanted to attend to this; the instrument just grabbed our atten-
tion. However, our guide may start to comment on a “small animal playing a
musical instrument.” Now we have a goal and will direct our attention over the
picture to find the object being described. Continuing their story, Corbetta and
Shulman ask us to imagine that we hear an alarm system starting to ring in the
next room. Now a stimulus-driven factor has intervened, and our attention will
be drawn away from the picture and switch to the adjacent room. Corbetta and
Shulman argue that somewhat different brain systems control goal-directed
attention versus stimulus-driven attention. For instance, neural imaging evi-
dence suggests that the goal-directed attentional system is more left lateralized,
whereas the stimulus-driven system is more right lateralized.
The brain regions that select information to process can be distinguished (to
an approximation) from those that process the information selected. Figure 3.1
highlights the parietal cortex, which influences information processing in regions
such as the visual cortex and auditory cortex. It also highlights prefrontal regions
that influence processing in the motor area and more posterior regions. These
prefrontal regions include the dorsolateral prefrontal cortex and, well below the
surface, the anterior cingulate cortex. As this chapter proceeds, it will elaborate on
the research concerning the various brain regions in Figure 3.1.
■ Attentional systems select information to process at serial bottle-
necks where it is no longer possible to do things in parallel.
◆ Auditory Attention
Some of the early research on attention was concerned with auditory attention.
Much of this research centered on the dichotic listening task. In a typical di-
chotic listening experiment, illustrated in Figure 3.2, participants wear a set of
headphones. They hear two messages at the same time, one in each ear, and are
asked to “shadow” one of the two messages (i.e., repeat back the words from
that message only). Most participants are able to attend to one message and
tune out the other.
FIGURE 3.1 A representation of
some of the brain areas involved
in attention and some of the per-
ceptual and motor regions they
control. The parietal regions are
particularly important in directing
perceptual resources. The pre-
frontal regions (dorsolateral
prefrontal cortex, anterior cingu-
late) are particularly important in
executive control.
Parietal cortex: attends
to locations and objects
Motor cortex:
controls hands
Dorsolateral prefrontal
cortex: directs central
cognition
Auditory cortex:
processes auditory
information
Extrastriate cortex:
processes visual
information
Anterior cingulate:
(midline structure)
monitors conflict
Brain Structures
Anderson_8e_Ch03.indd 54 13/09/14 9:37 AM
A u d I To r y AT T e n T I o n / 55
Psychologists (e.g., Cherry, 1953; Moray, 1959) have discovered that very
little information about the unattended message is processed in a dichotic
listening task. All that participants can report about the unattended message is
whether it was a human voice or a noise; whether the human voice was male
or female; and whether the sex of the speaker changed during the test. They
cannot tell what language was spoken or remember any of the words, even if
the same word was repeated over and over again. An analogy is often made
between performing this task and being at a party, where a guest tunes in to
one message (a conversation) and filters out others. This is an example of goal-
directed processing—the listener selects the message to be processed. However,
to return to the distinction between goal-directed and stimulus-driven processing,
important stimulus information can disrupt our goals. We have probably all
experienced the situation in which we are listening intently to one person and
hear our name mentioned by someone else. It is very hard in this situation to
keep your attention on what the original speaker is saying.
The Filter Theory
Broadbent (1958) proposed an early-selection theory called the filter theory
to account for these results. His basic assumption was that sensory infor-
mation comes through the system until some bottleneck is reached. At that
point, a person chooses which message to process on the basis of some phys-
ical characteristic. The person is said to filter out the other information. In a
dichotic listening task, the theory proposed that the message to each ear was
registered but that at some point the participant selected one ear to listen
with. At a busy party, we pick which speaker to follow on the basis of physical
characteristics, such as the pitch of the speaker’s voice.
A crucial feature of Broadbent’s original filter model is its proposal that we
select a message to process on the basis of physical characteristics such as ear
or pitch. This hypothesis made a certain amount of neurophysiological sense.
Messages entering each ear arrive on different nerves. Nerves also vary in
which frequencies they carry from each ear. Thus, we might imagine that the
brain, in some way, selects certain nerves to “pay attention to.”
People can certainly choose to attend to a message on the basis of its
physical characteristics, but they can also select messages to process on the
… and then John turned rapidly toward …
ran house ox cat
and, um, John turned . . .
FIGURE 3.2 A typical dichotic listening task. different messages are presented to the left
and right ears, and the participant attempts to “shadow” the message entering one ear.
(Research from Lindsay & Norman, 1977.)
Dichotic Listening
Attentional Filtering
Anderson_8e_Ch03.indd 55 13/09/14 9:37 AM
56 / Chapter 3 AT T e n T I o n A n d P e r f o r m A n C e
basis of their semantic content. In one study, Gray and Wed-
derburn (1960), who at the time were undergraduate stu-
dents at Oxford University, demonstrated that participants
can use meaningfulness to follow a message that jumps back
and forth between the ears. Figure 3.3 illustrates the par-
ticipants’ task in their experiment. In one ear they might be
hearing the words dogs six fleas, while at the same time hear-
ing the words eight scratch two in the other ear. Instructed to
shadow the meaningful message, participants would report
dogs scratch fleas. Thus, participants can shadow a message
on the basis of meaning rather than on the basis of what
each ear physically hears.
Treisman (1960) looked at a situation in which par-
ticipants were instructed to shadow a particular ear
(Figure 3.4). The message in the ear to be shadowed was
meaningful up to a certain point; then it turned into a
random sequence of words. Simultaneously, the mean-
ingful message switched to the other ear—the one to which the participant
had not been attending. Some participants switched ears, against instruc-
tions, and continued to follow the meaningful message. Others contin-
ued to follow the shadowed ear. Thus, it seems that sometimes people use
a physical characteristic (e.g., a particular ear) to select which message to
follow, and sometimes they choose semantic content.
■ Broadbent’s filter model proposes that we use physical features,
such as ear or pitch, to select one message to process, but it has been
shown that people can also use the meaning of the message as the
basis for selection.
The Attenuation Theory and the Late-Selection Theory
To account for these kinds of results, Treisman (1964) proposed a modification
of the Broadbent model that has come to be known as the attenuation theory.
This model hypothesized that certain messages would be attenuated (weak-
ened) but not filtered out entirely on the basis of their physical properties. Thus,
in a dichotic listening task, participants would minimize the signal from the un-
attended ear but not eliminate it. Semantic selection criteria could apply to all
messages, whether they were attenuated or not. If the message were attenuated,
it would be harder to apply these selection criteria, but
it would still be possible. Treisman (personal com-
munication, 1978) emphasized that in her experiment
in Figure 3.4, most participants actually continued to
shadow the prescribed ear. It was easier to follow the
message that is not being attenuated than to apply se-
mantic criteria to switch attention to the attenuated
message.
An alternative explanation was offered by
J. A. Deutsch and D. Deutsch (1963) in their late-
selection theory, which proposed that all the infor-
mation is processed completely without attenuation.
Their hypothesis was that the capacity limitation is in
the response system, not the perceptual system. They
claimed that people can perceive multiple messages
but that they can say only one message at a time. Thus,
people need some basis for selecting which message to
FIGURE 3.3 An illustration of the
shadowing task in the Gray and
Wedderburn (1960) experiment.
The participant follows the mean-
ingful message as it moves from
ear to ear. (Adapted from Klatzky,
1975.)
dogs six fleas . . .
. . . eight scratch two
dogs scratch fleas . . .
I SAW THE GIRL/Song was wishing . . .
The to-be-shadowed ear
I SAW THE GIRL JUMPING . . .
. . . me that bird
JUMPING IN THE STREET.
FIGURE 3.4 An illustration of the
Treisman (1960) experiment. The
meaningful message moves to
the other ear, and the participant
sometimes continues to shadow
it against instructions. (Adapted
from Klatzky, 1975.)
Anderson_8e_Ch03.indd 56 13/09/14 9:37 AM
A u d I To r y AT T e n T I o n / 57
shadow. If they use meaning as the criterion (either according to or in contra-
diction to instructions), they will switch ears to follow the message. If they use
the ear of origin in deciding what to attend to, they will shadow the chosen ear.
The difference between this late-selection theory and the early-selection
attenuation theory is illustrated in Figure 3.5. Both models assume that there
is some filter or bottleneck in processing. Treisman’s theory (Figure 3.5a) as-
sumes that the filter selects which message to attend to, whereas Deutsch and
Deutsch’s theory (Figure 3.5b) assumes that the filter occurs after the percep-
tual stimulus has been analyzed for verbal content. Treisman and Geffen (1967)
tested the difference between these two theories using a dichotic listening task
in which participants had to shadow one message while also processing both
messages for a target word. If they heard the target word, they were to signal
by tapping. According to the Deutsch and Deutsch late-selection theory, mes-
sages from both ears would get through and participants should have been able
to detect the critical word equally well in either ear. In contrast, the attenuation
theory predicted much less detection in the unshadowed ear because the mes-
sage would be attenuated. In the experiment, participants detected 87% of the
target words in the shadowed ear and only 8% in the unshadowed ear. Other
evidence consistent with the attenuation theory was reported by Treisman and
Riley (1969) and by Johnston and Heinz (1978).
There is neural evidence for a version of the attenuation theory that as-
serts that there is both enhancement of the signal coming from the attended
ear and attenuation of the signal coming from the unattended ear. The pri-
mary auditory area of the cortex (see Figure 3.1) shows an enhanced response
to auditory signals coming from the ear the listener is attending to and a de-
creased response to signals coming from the other ear. Through ERP recording,
Woldorff et al. (1993) showed that these responses occur between 20 and 50 ms
after stimulus onset. The enhanced responses occur much sooner in auditory
processing than the point at which the meaning of the message can be identi-
fied. Other studies also provide evidence for enhancement of the message in the
auditory cortex on the basis of features other than location. For instance, Za-
torre, Mondor, and Evans (1999) found in a PET study that when people attend
(a) (b)
Responses
Selection and
organization of
responses
Analysis of
verbal content
Perceptual
filter
Input messages
1 2
1 2
Responses
Selection and
organization of
responses
Analysis of
verbal content
Input messages
Response filter
1 2
1 2 FIGURE 3.5 Treisman and Geffen’s
illustration of attentional limita-
tions produced by (a) Treisman’s
(1964) attenuation theory and
(b) deutsch and deutsch’s (1963)
late-selection theory. (Data from
Treisman & Geffen, 1967.)
Anderson_8e_Ch03.indd 57 13/09/14 9:37 AM
58 / Chapter 3 AT T e n T I o n A n d P e r f o r m A n C e
to a message on the basis of pitch, the auditory cortex shows enhancement (reg-
istered as increased activation). This study also found increased activation in
the parietal areas that direct attention.
Although auditory attention can enhance processing in the primary audi-
tory cortex, there is no evidence of reliable effects of attention on earlier stages
of auditory processing, such as in the auditory nerve or the brain stem (Picton
& Hillyard, 1974). The various results we have reviewed suggest that the pri-
mary auditory cortex is the earliest area to be influenced by attention. It should
be stressed that the effects at the auditory cortex are a matter of attenuation and
enhancement. Messages are not completely filtered out, and so it is still possible
to select them at later points of processing.
■ Attention can enhance or reduce the magnitude of response to an
auditory signal in the primary auditory cortex.
◆ Visual Attention
The bottleneck in visual information processing is even more apparent than
the one in auditory information processing. As we saw in Chapter 2, the retina
varies in acuity, with the greatest acuity in a very small area called the fovea.
Although the human eye registers a large part of the visual field, the fovea reg-
isters only a small fraction of that field. Thus, in choosing where to focus our
vision, we also choose to devote our most powerful visual processing resources
to a particular part of the visual field, and we limit the resources allocated to
processing other parts of the field. Usually, we are attending to that part of the
visual field on which we are focusing. For instance, as we read, we move our
eyes so that we are fixating the words we are attending to.
The focus of visual attention is not always identical with the part of the visual
field being processed by the fovea, however. People can be instructed to fixate on
one part of the visual field (making that part the focus of the fovea) while attend-
ing to another, nonfoveal region of the visual field.2 In one
experiment, Posner, Nissen, and Ogden (1978) had par-
ticipants focus on a constant point and then presented them
with a stimulus 7° to the left or the right of the fixation point.
In some trials, participants were told on which side the stim-
ulus was likely to occur; in other trials, there was no such
warning. The warning was correct 80% of the time, but 20%
of the time the stimulus appeared on the unexpected side.
The researchers monitored eye movements and included
only those trials in which the eyes had stayed on the fixation
point. Figure 3.6 shows the time required to judge the stimu-
lus if it appeared in the expected location (80% of the time),
if the participant had not been given a neutral cue (50% of
the time on both sides), and if it appeared in the unexpected
location (20% of the time). Participants were faster when the
stimulus appeared in the expected location and slower when
it appeared in the unexpected location. Thus, they were able
to shift their attention from where their eyes were fixated.
Posner, Snyder, and Davidson (1980) found that peo-
ple can attend to regions of the visual field as far as 24°
Re
ac
tio
n
tim
e
(m
s)
Unexpected No expectation Expected
Condition
320
300
280
260
240
220
FIGURE 3.6 The results of an
experiment to determine how
people react to a stimulus that
occurs 7° to the left or right of
the fixation point. The graph
shows participants’ reaction times
to expected, unexpected, and
neutral (no expectation) signals.
(Data from Posner et al., 1978.)
2 This is what quarterbacks are supposed to do when they pass the football, so that they don’t “give away”
the position of the intended receiver.
Anderson_8e_Ch03.indd 58 13/09/14 9:37 AM
V I s u A l AT T e n T I o n / 59
from the fovea. Although visual attention can be moved without accompanying
eye movements, people usually do move their eyes, so that the fovea processes
the portion of the visual field to which they are attending. Posner (1988)
pointed out that successful control of eye movements requires us to attend to
places outside the fovea. That is, we must attend to and identify an interesting
nonfoveal region so that we can guide our eyes to fixate on that region to
achieve the greatest acuity in processing it. Thus, a shift of attention often
precedes the corresponding eye movement.
To process a complex visual scene, we must move our attention around in
the visual field to track the visual information. This process is like shadowing a
conversation. Neisser and Becklen (1975) performed the visual analog of the audi-
tory shadowing task. They had participants observe two videotapes superimposed
over each other. One was of two people playing a hand-slapping game; the other
was of some people playing a basketball game. Figure 3.7 shows how the situation
appeared to the participants. They were instructed to pay attention to one of the
two films and to watch for odd events such as the two players in the hand-slapping
game pausing and shaking hands. Participants were able to monitor one film
successfully and reported filtering out the other. When asked to monitor both films
for odd events, the participants experienced great difficulty and missed many of the
critical events.
As Neisser and Becklen (1975) noted, this situ-
ation involved an interesting combination of the use
of physical cues and the use of content cues. Partici-
pants moved their eyes and focused their attention in
such a way that the critical aspects of the monitored
event fell on their fovea and the center of their atten-
tive spotlight. The only way they could know where
to move their eyes to focus on a critical event was by
making reference to the content of the event. Thus,
the content of the event facilitated their processing
of the film, which in turn facilitated extracting the
content.
Figure 3.8 shows examples of the overlapping
stimuli used in an experiment by O’Craven, Downing,
and Kanwisher (1999) to study the neural conse-
quences of attending to one object or the other. Partici-
pants in their experiment saw a series of pictures that
consisted of faces superimposed on houses. They were
instructed to look for either repetition of the same face
(a) (b) (c)
FIGURE 3.7 frames from the two films used by neisser and Becklen in their visual
analog of the auditory shadowing task. (a) The “hand-game” film; (b) the basketball film;
and (c) the two films superimposed. (Neisser, U., & Becklen, R. (1975). Selective looking:
Attending to visually specified events. Cognitive Psychology, 7, 480–494. Copyright © 1975
Elsevier. Reprinted by permission.)
FIGURE 3.8 An example of
a picture used in the study of
o’Craven et al. (1999). When the
face is attended, there is activa-
tion in the fusiform face area,
and when the house is attended,
there is activation in the parahip-
pocampal place area. (Downing,
Liu, & Kanwisher, 2001. Reprinted
with permission from Elsevier.)
Spatial Cueing
Anderson_8e_Ch03.indd 59 13/09/14 9:37 AM
60 / Chapter 3 AT T e n T I o n A n d P e r f o r m A n C e
in the series or repetition of the same house. Recall from Chapter 2 that there
is a region of the temporal cortex, the fusiform face area, which becomes active
when people are observing faces. There is another area within the temporal cor-
tex, the parahippocampal place area, that becomes more active when people are
observing places. What is special about these pictures is that they consisted of
both faces and places. Which region would become active—the fusiform face area
or the parahippocampal place area? As the reader might suspect, the answer de-
pended on what the participant was attending to. When participants were looking
for repetition of faces, the fusiform face area became more active; when they were
looking for repetition of places, the parahippocampal place area became more
active. Attention determined which region of the temporal cortex was engaged in
the processing of the stimulus.
■ People can focus their attention on parts of the visual field and
move their focus of attention to process what they are interested in.
The Neural Basis of Visual Attention
It appears that the neural mechanisms underlying visual attention are very similar
to those underlying auditory attention. Just as auditory attention directed to one
ear enhances the cortical signal from that ear, visual attention directed to a spatial
location appears to enhance the cortical signal from that location. If a person
attends to a particular spatial location, a distinct neural response (detected using
ERP records) in the visual cortex occurs within 70 to 90 ms after the onset of a
stimulus. On the other hand, when a person is attending to a particular object
(attending to a chair rather than a table, say) rather than to a particular location
in space, we do not see a response for more than 200 ms. Thus, it appears to take
more effort to direct visual attention on the basis of content than on the basis of
physical features, just as is the case with auditory attention.
Mangun, Hillyard, and Luck (1993) had participants fixate on the center
of a computer screen, then judge the lengths of bars presented in positions dif-
ferent from the fixation location (upper left, lower left, upper right, and lower
right). Figure 3.9 shows the distribution of scalp activity detected by ERP when
P1 attention effect
(current density)
P1 P1 P1 P1
Stimulus
+ + + +
FIGURE 3.9 results from an experiment by mangun, Hillyard, and luck. distribution of scalp
activity was recorded by erP when a participant was attending to one of the four different
regions of the visual array depicted in the bottom row while fixating on the center of the
screen. The greatest activity was recorded over the side of the scalp opposite the side of the
visual field where the object appeared, confirming that there is enhanced neural processing
in portions of the visual cortex corresponding to the location of visual attention. (Mangun,
G. R., Hillyard, S. A., & Luck, S. J. (1993). Electrocortical substrates of visual selective attention.
In D. Meyer & S. Kornblum (Eds.), Attention and performance (Vol. 14, Figure 10.4 from
pp. 219–243). © 1993 Massachusetts Institute of Technology, by permission of The MIT Press.)
Anderson_8e_Ch03.indd 60 13/09/14 9:37 AM
V I s u A l AT T e n T I o n / 61
a participant was attending to one of these four different regions of the visual ar-
ray (while fixating on the center of the screen). Consistent with the topographic
organization of the visual cortex, there was greatest activity over the side of the
scalp opposite the side of the visual field where the object appeared. Recall from
Chapters 1 and 2 (see Figure 2.5) that the visual cortex (at the back of the head) is
topographically organized, with each visual field (left or right) represented in the
opposite hemisphere. Thus, it appears that there is enhanced neural processing in
the portion of the visual cortex corresponding to the location of visual attention.
A study by Roelfsema, Lamme, and Spekreijse (1998) illustrates the im-
pact of visual attention on information processing in the primary visual area of
the macaque monkey. In this experiment, the researchers trained monkeys to
perform the rather complex task illustrated in Figure 3.10. A trial would begin
with a monkey fixating on a particular stimulus in the visual field, the star in
part (a) of the figure. Then, as shown in Figure 3.10b, two curves would appear
that ended in blue dots. Only one of these curves was connected to the fixation
point. The monkey had to keep looking at the fixation point for 600 ms and
then perform a saccade (an eye movement) to the end of the curve that con-
nected the fixation (part c). While a monkey performed this task, Roelfsema
et al. recorded from cells in the monkey’s primary visual cortex (where cells
with receptive fields like those in Figure 2.8 are found). Indicated by the square
in Figure 3.10 is a receptive field of one of these cells. It shows increased re-
sponse when a line falls on that part of the visual field and so responds when
the curve appears that crosses it. The cell’s response also increased during the
600-ms waiting period, but only if its receptive field was on the curve that con-
nected to the fixation point. During the waiting period the monkey was shifting
its attention along this curve to find its end point and thus determine the des-
tination of the saccade. This shift of attention across the receptive field caused
the cell to respond more strongly.
■ When people attend to a particular spatial location, there is
greater neural processing in portions of the visual cortex correspond-
ing to that location.
Visual Search
People are able to select stimuli to attend to, either in the visual or auditory
domain, on the basis of physical properties and, in particular, on the basis of
location. Although selection based on simple features can occur early and
Fixation point
Receptive field
Stimulus (600 ms)Fixation (300 ms) Saccade
(a) (b) (c)
FIGURE 3.10 The experimental
procedure in roelfsema et al.
(1998): (a) The monkey fixates
the start point (the star).
(b) Two curves are presented,
one of which links the start point
to a target point (a blue circle).
(c) The monkey saccades to the
target point. The experimenter
records from a neuron whose
receptive field is along the curve
to the target point.
Anderson_8e_Ch03.indd 61 13/09/14 9:37 AM
62 / Chapter 3 AT T e n T I o n A n d P e r f o r m A n C e
quickly in the visual system, not everything people look for can be defined in
terms of simple features. How do people find more complex objects, such as
the face of a friend in a crowd? In such cases, it seems that they must search
through the faces in the crowd, one by one, looking for a face that has the de-
sired properties. Much of the research on visual attention has focused on how
people perform such searches. Rather than study how people find faces in a
crowd, however, researchers have tended to use simpler material. Figure 3.11,
for instance, shows a portion of the display that Neisser (1964) used in one of
the early studies. Try to find the first K in the set of letters displayed.
Presumably, you tried to find the K by going through the letters row by
row, looking for the target. Figure 3.12 graphs the average time it took partici-
pants in Neisser’s experiment to find the letter as a function of which row it ap-
peared in. The slope of the best-fitting function in the graph is about 0.6, which
implies that participants took about 0.6 s to scan each line. When people engage
in such searches, they appear to be allocating their attention intensely to the
search process. For instance, brain-imaging experiments have found strong ac-
tivation in the parietal cortex during such searches (see Kanwisher & Wojciulik,
2000, for a review).
Although a search can be intense and difficult, it is not always that way.
Sometimes we can find what we are looking for without much effort. If we
know that our friend is wearing a bright red jacket, it can be relatively easy to
find him or her in the crowd, provided that no one else is wearing a bright red
jacket. Our friend will just pop out of the crowd. Indeed, if there were just one
red jacket in a sea of white jackets, it would probably pop out even if we were
not looking for it—an instance of stimulus-driven attention. It seems that if
there is some distinctive feature in an array, we can find it without a search.
Treisman studied this sort of pop-out. For instance, Treisman and
Gelade (1980) instructed participants to try to detect a T in an array of 30 I’s
and Y’s (Figure 3.13a). They reasoned that participants could do this simply
by looking for the crossbar feature of the T that distinguishes it from all I’s
and Y’s. Participants took an average of about 400 ms to perform this task.
Treisman and Gelade also asked participants to detect a T in an array of I’s
and Z’s (Figure 3.13b). In this task, they could not use just the vertical bar
or just the horizontal bar of the T; they had to look for the conjunction of
these features and perform the feature combination required in pattern rec-
ognition. It took participants more than 800 ms, on average, to find the let-
ter in this case. Thus, a task requiring them to recognize the conjunction of
features took about 400 ms longer than one in which perception of a single
feature was sufficient. Moreover, when Treisman and Gelade varied the num-
ber of letters in the array, they found that participants
were much more affected by the number of objects in
the task that required recognition of the conjunction
of features (see Figure 3.14).
■ It is necessary to search through a visual array
for an object only when a unique visual feature
does not distinguish that object.
The Binding Problem
As discussed in Chapter 2, there are different types
of neurons in the visual system that respond to dif-
ferent features, such as colors, lines at various ori-
entations, and objects in motion. A single object in
our visual field will involve a number of features; for
0
0
10
20
30
40
10 20 30 40 50
Ti
m
e
(s
)
Position of critical item (line number)
FIGURE 3.12 The time required
to find a target letter in the array
shown in figure 3.11 as a function
of the line number in which it ap-
pears. (Data from Neisser, 1964.)
FIGURE 3.11 A representation of
lines 7–31 of the letter array used
in neisser’s search experiment.
(Data from Neisser, 1964.)
TWLN
XJBU
UDXI
HSFP
XSCQ
SDJU
PODC
ZVBP
PEVZ
SLRA
JCEN
ZLRD
XBOD
PHMU
ZHFK
PNJW
CQXT
GHNR
IXYD
QSVB
GUCH
OWBN
BVQN
FOAS
ITZN
Serial vs. Parallel
Search
Anderson_8e_Ch03.indd 62 13/09/14 9:37 AM
V I s u A l AT T e n T I o n / 63
instance, a red vertical line combines the vertical feature and the red fea-
ture. The fact that different features of the same object are represented by
different neurons gives rise to a logical question: How are these features put
back together to produce perception of the object? This would not be much
of a problem if there were just a single object in the visual field. We could
assume that all the features belonged to that object. But what if there were
multiple objects in the field? For instance, suppose there were just two ob-
jects: a red vertical bar and a green horizontal bar. These two objects might
result in the firing of neurons for red, neurons for green, neurons for verti-
cal lines, and neurons for horizontal lines. If these firings were all that oc-
curred, though, how would the visual system know it saw a red vertical bar
and a green horizontal bar rather than a red horizontal bar and a green ver-
tical bar? The question of how the brain puts together various features in
the visual field is referred to as the binding problem.
Treisman (e.g., Treisman & Gelade, 1980) developed her feature-integration
theory as an answer to the binding problem. She proposed that people must focus
their attention on a stimulus before they can synthesize its features into a pattern.
For instance, in the example just given, the visual system can first direct its atten-
tion to the location of the red vertical bar and synthesize that object, then direct its
attention to the green horizontal bar and synthesize that object. According to Tre-
isman, people must search through an array when they need to syn-
thesize features to recognize an object (for instance, when trying to
identify a K, which consists of a vertical line and two diagonal lines).
In contrast, when an object in an array has a single unique feature,
such as a red jacket or a line at a particular orientation, we can attend
to it without search.
The binding problem is not just a hypothetical dilemma—
it is something that humans actually experience. One source of
evidence comes from studies of illusory conjunctions in which
people report combinations of features that did not occur. For
instance, Treisman and Schmidt (1982) looked at what happens
to feature combinations when the stimuli are out of the focus of
attention. Participants were asked to report the identity of two
black digits flashed in one part of the visual field, so this was
(a)
(b)
FIGURE 3.13 stimuli used by
Treisman and Gelade to determine
how people identify objects in the
visual field. They found that it is
easier to pick out a target letter (T)
from a group of distracters if
(a) the target letter has a feature
that makes it easily distinguishable
from the distracter letters (I’s and
Y’s) than if (b) the same target
letter is in an array of distracters
(I’s and Z’s) that offer no obvious
distinctive features. (Data from
Treisman & Gelade, 1980.)
Array size (number of items)
T in I, ZRe
ac
tio
n
tim
e
(m
s)
1
0
400
800
1200
5 15 30
T in I, Y
FIGURE 3.14 results from the
Treisman and Gelade experiment.
The graph plots the average re-
action times required to detect
a target letter as a function of
the number of distracters and
whether the distracters contain
separately all the features of the
target. (Data from Treisman &
Gelade, 1980.)
Anderson_8e_Ch03.indd 63 13/09/14 9:37 AM
64 / Chapter 3 AT T e n T I o n A n d P e r f o r m A n C e
where their attention was focused. In an unattended part of the visual field,
letters in various colors were presented, such as a pink T, a yellow S, and a
blue N. After they reported the numbers, participants were asked to report
any letters they had seen and the colors of these letters. They reported see-
ing illusory conjunctions of features (e.g., a pink S) almost as often as they
reported seeing correct combinations. Thus, it appears that we are able to
combine features into an accurate perception only when our attention is fo-
cused on an object. Otherwise, we perceive the features but may well com-
bine them into a perception of objects that were never there. Although rather
special circumstances are required to produce illusory conjunctions in an or-
dinary person, there are certain patients with damage to the parietal cortex
who are particularly prone to such illusions. For instance, one patient stud-
ied by Friedman-Hill, Robertson, and Treisman (1995) confused which let-
ters were presented in which colors even when shown the letters for as long
as 10 s.
A number of studies have been conducted on the neural mechanisms
involved in binding together the features of a single object. Luck, Chelazzi,
Hillyard, and Desimone (1997) trained macaque monkeys to fixate on a cer-
tain part of the visual field and recorded neurons in a visual region called
V4. The neurons in this region have large receptive fields (several degrees
of visual angle). Therefore, multiple objects in a display may be within
the visual field of a single neuron. They found neurons that were specific
to particular types of objects, such as a cell that responded to a blue verti-
cal bar. What happens when a blue vertical bar and a green horizontal bar
are presented both within the receptive field of this cell? If the monkey at-
tended to the blue vertical bar, the rate of response of the cell was the same
as when there was only a blue vertical bar. On the other hand, if the mon-
key attended to the green horizontal bar, the rate of firing of this same cell
was greatly depressed. Thus, the same stimulus (blue vertical bar plus green
horizontal bar) can evoke different responses depending on which object is
attended to. It is speculated that this phenomenon occurs because attention
suppresses responses to all features in the receptive field except those at the
attended location. Similar results have been obtained in fMRI experiments
with humans. Kastner, DeWeerd, Desimone, and Ungerleider (1998) meas-
ured the fMRI signal in visual areas that responded to stimuli presented in
one region of the visual field. They found that when attention was directed
away from that region, the fMRI response to stimuli in that region de-
creased; but when attention was focused on that region, the fMRI response
was maintained. These experiments indicate en-
hanced neural processing of attended objects and
locations.
A striking demonstration of the effects of
sustained attention was reported by Simons and
Chabris (1999). They asked participants to watch
a video in which a team dressed in black tossed a
basketball back and forth and a team dressed in
white did the same (Figure 3.15). Participants were
instructed to count either the number of times
the team in black tossed the ball or the number
of times the team in white did so. Presumably, in
one condition participants were looking for events
involving the team in black and in the other for
events involving the team in white. Because the
players were intermixed, the task was difficult
and required sustained attention. In the middle of
FIGURE 3.15 This shows a single
frame from the movie used by
simons and Chabris to demon-
strate the effects of sustained
attention. When participants were
intent on tracking the ball passed
among the players dressed in
white T-shirts, they tended not
to notice the black gorilla walking
through the room. (Adapted from
Simons & Chabris, 1999.)
Anderson_8e_Ch03.indd 64 13/09/14 9:37 AM
V I s u A l AT T e n T I o n / 65
the game, a person in a black gorilla suit walked through the
room. Participants searching the video for events involving
team members dressed in white were so fixed on their search
that they completely missed an event involving a black object.
When participants were tracking the team in white, they no-
ticed the black gorilla only 8% of the time; when they were
tracking the team in black, they noticed it 67% of the time.
People passively watching the video never miss the black
gorilla. (You should be able to find a version of this video by
searching with the keywords “gorilla” and “Simons.”)
■ For feature information to be synthesized into a pat-
tern, the information must be in the focus of attention.
Neglect of the Visual Field
We have discussed the evidence that visual attention to a spa-
tial location results in enhanced activation in the appropriate
portion of the primary visual cortex. The neural structures that
control the direction of attention, however, appear to be lo-
cated elsewhere, particularly in the parietal cortex (Behrmann, Geng, & Shom-
stein, 2004). Damage to the parietal lobe (see Figure 3.1) has been shown to re-
sult in deficits in visual attention. For instance, Posner, Walker, Friederich, and
Rafal (1984) showed that patients with parietal lobe injuries have difficulty in
disengaging attention from one side of the visual field.
Damage to the right parietal region produces distinctive patterns of
deficit, as can be seen in a study of one such patient by Posner, Cohen, and
Rafal (1982). Like the participants in the Posner, Nissen, and Ogden (1978)
experiment discussed earlier, the patient was cued to expect a stimulus to the
left or right of the fixation point (i.e., in the left or right visual field). As in
that experiment, 80% of the time the stimulus appeared in the expected field,
but 20% of the time it appeared in the unexpected field. Figure 3.16 shows
the time required to detect the stimulus as a function of which visual field
it was presented in and which field had been cued. When the stimulus was
presented in the right field, the patient showed only a little disadvantage if
inappropriately cued. If the stimulus appeared in the left field, however, the
patient showed a large deficit if inappropriately cued. Because the right pa-
rietal lobe processes the left visual field, damage to the right lobe impairs its
ability to draw attention back to the left visual field once attention is focused
on the right visual field. This sort of one-sided
attentional deficit can be temporarily created in
normal individuals by presenting TMS to the
parietal cortex (Pascual-Leone et al., 1994—see
Chapter 1 for discussion of TMS).
A more extreme version of this attentional
disorder is called unilateral visual neglect.
Patients with damage to the right hemisphere
completely ignore the left side of the visual
field, and patients with damage to the left
hemisphere ignore the right side of the visual
field. Figure 3.17 shows the performance of a
patient with damage to the right hemisphere,
which caused her to neglect the left visual field
(Albert, 1973). She had been instructed to put
slashes through all the circles. As can be seen,
La
te
nc
y
(m
s)
1400
1200
1000
800
600
400
Left
Field of presentation
Right
Cued for right field
Cued for left field
FIGURE 3.16 The attention
deficit shown by a patient with
right parietal lobe damage when
switching attention to the left
visual field. (Data from Posner,
Cohen, & Rafal, 1982.)
FIGURE 3.17 The performance
of a patient with damage to the
right hemisphere who had been
asked to put slashes through all
the circles. Because of the dam-
age to the right hemisphere, she
ignored the circles in the left part
of her visual field. (From Ellis &
Young, 1988. Reprinted by permis-
sion of the publisher. © 1988 by
Erlbaum.)
Anderson_8e_Ch03.indd 65 13/09/14 9:37 AM
66 / Chapter 3 AT T e n T I o n A n d P e r f o r m A n C e
she ignored the circles in the left part of her visual field. Such patients will
often behave peculiarly. For instance, one patient failed to shave half of his
face (Sacks, 1985). These effects can also show up in nonvisual tasks. For
instance, a study of patients with neglect of the left visual field showed a
systematic bias in making judgments about the midpoint in sequences of
numbers and letters (Zorzi, Priftis, Meneghello, Marenzi, & Umiltà, 2006).
When asked to judge what number is midway between 1 and 5, they showed
a bias to respond 4. They showed a similar tendency with letter sequences—
asked to judge what letter was midway between P and T, they showed
tendency to respond S. In both cases this can be interpreted as a tendency
to ignore the items that were to the left of the point in the middle of the
sequence.
It seems that the right parietal lobe is involved in allocating spatial
attention in many modalities, not just the visual (Zatorre et al., 1999). For
instance, when one attends to the location of auditory or visual stimuli,
there is increased activation in the right parietal region. It also appears that
the right parietal lobe is more responsible for the spatial allocation of at-
tention than is the left parietal lobe and that this is why right parietal dam-
age tends to produce such dramatic effects. Left parietal damage tends to
produce a subtler pattern of deficits. Robertson and Rafal (2000) argue that
the right parietal region is responsible for attention to such global features
as spatial location, whereas the left parietal region is responsible for direct-
ing attention to local aspects of objects. Figure 3.18 is a striking illustra-
tion of the different types of deficits associated with left and right parietal
damage. Patients were asked to draw the objects in Figure 3.18a. Patients
with right parietal damage (Figure 3.18b) were able to reproduce the spe-
cific components of the picture but were not able to reproduce their spatial
configuration. In contrast, patients with left parietal damage (Figure 3.18c)
were able to reproduce the overall configuration but not the detail. Simi-
larly, brain-imaging studies have found more activation of the right parietal
region when a person is responding to global patterns and more activation
of the left parietal region when a person is attending to local patterns (Fink
et al., 1996; Martinez et al., 1997).
FIGURE 3.18 (a) The pictures
presented to patients with
parietal damage. (b) examples of
drawings made by patients with
right-hemisphere damage. These
patients could reproduce the
specific components of the picture
but not their spatial configuration.
(c) examples of drawings made
by patients with left-hemisphere
damage. These patients
could reproduce the overall
configuration but not the detail.
(After Robertson & Lamb, 1991.)
(a) (b) (c)
Anderson_8e_Ch03.indd 66 13/09/14 9:37 AM
V I s u A l AT T e n T I o n / 67
■ Parietal regions are responsible for the allocation of attention, with
the right hemisphere more concerned with global features and the left
hemisphere with local features.
Object-Based Attention
So far we have talked about space-based attention, where people allocate
their attention to a region of space. There is also evidence, for object-based
attention, where people focus their attention on particular objects rather
than regions of space. An experiment by Behrmann, Zemel, and Mozer
(1998) is an example of research demonstrating that people sometimes find
it easier to attend to an object than to a location. Figure 3.19 illustrates some
of the stimuli used in the experiment, in which participants were asked
to judge whether the numbers of bumps on the two ends of objects were
the same. The left column shows instances in which the numbers of bumps were
the same, the right column instances in which the numbers were not the same.
Participants made these judgments faster when the bumps were on the same ob-
ject (top and bottom rows in Figure 3.19) than when they were on different objects
(middle row). This result occurred despite the fact that when the bumps were on
different objects, they were located closer together, which should have facilitated
judgment if attention were space based. Behrmann et al. argue that participants
shifted attention to one object at a time rather than one location at a time. There-
fore, judgments were faster when the bumps were all on the same object because
participants did not need to shift their attention between objects. Using a variant
of the paradigm in Figure 3.19, Chen and Cave (2008) either presented the stimu-
lus for 1 s or for just 0.12 s. The advantage of the within-object effect disappeared
when the stimulus was present for only the brief period. This indicates that it takes
time for object-based attention to develop.
Other evidence for object-centered attention involves a phenomenon
called inhibition of return. Research indicates that if we have looked at a par-
ticular region of space, we find it a little harder to return our attention to that
region. If we move our eyes to location A and then to location B, we are slower
to return our eyes to location A than to some new location C. This is also true
when we move our attention without moving our eyes (Posner, Rafal, Chaote, &
Vaughn, 1985). This phenomenon confers an advantage in some situations: If
we are searching for something and have already looked at a location, we would
prefer our visual system to find other locations to look at rather than return to
an already searched location.
Tipper, Driver, and Weaver (1991) performed one demonstration of the
inhibition of return that also provided evidence for object-based attention. In
their experiments, participants viewed three squares in a frame, similar to what
is shown in each part of Figure 3.20. In one condition, the squares did not move
(unlike the moving condition illustrated in Figure 3.20, which we will discuss
in the next paragraph). The participants’ attention was drawn to one of the
outer squares when the experimenters made it flicker, and then, 200 ms later,
attention was drawn back to the center square when that square flickered. A
probe stimulus was then presented in one of the two outer positions, and par-
ticipants were instructed to press a key indicating that they had seen the probe.
On average, they took 420 ms to see the probe when it occurred at the outer
square that had not flickered and 460 ms when it occurred at the outer square
that had flickered. This 40-ms advantage is an example of a spatially defined in-
hibition of return. People are slower to move their attention to a location where
it has already been.
FIGURE 3.19 stimuli used in an
experiment by Behrmann, Zemel,
and mozer to demonstrate that it
is sometimes easier to attend to
an object than to a location. The
left and right columns indicate
same and different judgments,
respectively; and the rows from
top to bottom indicate the
single-object, two-object, and
occluded conditions, respectively.
(Behrmann, M., Zemel, R. S., &
Mozer, M. C. (1998). Object-based
attention and occlusion: Evidence
from normal participants and
computational model. Journal of
experimental Psychology: Human
Perception and Performance, 24,
1011–1036. Copyright © 1988
American Psychological Association.
Reprinted by permission.)
(a) (d)
(e)
(f)(c)
(b)
Anderson_8e_Ch03.indd 67 13/09/14 9:37 AM
68 / Chapter 3 AT T e n T I o n A n d P e r f o r m A n C e
Figure 3.20 illustrates the other condition of their experiment, in which the
objects were rotated around the screen after the flicker. By the end of the mo-
tion, the object that had flickered on one side was now on the other side—the
two outer objects had traded positions. The question of interest was whether
participants would be slower to detect a target on the right (where the flicker-
ing had been—which would indicate location-based inhibition) or on the left
(where the flickered object had ended up—which would indicate object-based
inhibition). The results showed that they were about 20 ms slower to detect an
object in the location that had not flickered but that contained the object that
had flickered. Thus, their visual systems displayed an inhibition of return to the
same object, not the same location.
It seems that the visual system can direct attention either to locations in
space or to objects. Experiments like those just described indicate that the
visual system can track objects. On the other hand, many experiments indicate
that people can direct their attention to regions of space where there are no ob-
jects (see Figure 3.6 for the results of such an experiment). It is interesting that
the left parietal regions seem to be more involved in object-based attention
and the right parietal regions in location-based attention. Patients with left
parietal damage appear to have deficits in focusing attention on objects (Egly,
Driver, & Rafal, 1994), unlike the location-based deficits that I have described
(a)
(b)
(c)
(d)
(e)
FIGURE 3.20 examples of frames used in an experiment by Tipper, driver, and Weaver
to determine whether inhibition of return would attach to a particular object or to its
location. Arrows represent motion. (a) display onset, with no motion for 500 ms. After
two moving frames, the three filled squares were horizontally aligned (b), whereupon
the cue appeared (one of the boxes flickered). Clockwise motion then continued, with
cueing in the center for the initial three frames (c–e). The outer squares continued to
rotate clockwise (d) until they were horizontally aligned (e), at which point a probe was
presented, as before. (© 1991 from Tipper, S. P., Driver, J., & Weaver, B. (1991). Short re-
port: Object-centered inhibition of return of visual attention. Quarterly Journal of experimental
Psychology, 43(section A), 289–298. Reproduced by permission of Taylor & Francis LLC,
http://www.tandfonline.com.)
Anderson_8e_Ch03.indd 68 13/09/14 9:37 AM
http://www.tandfonline.com
C e n T r A l AT T e n T I o n : s e l e C T I n G l I n e s o f T H o u G H T To P u r s u e / 69
in patients with right parietal damage. Also, there is greater activation in the
left parietal regions when people attend to objects than when they attend to
locations (Arrington, Carr, Mayer, & Rao, 2000; Shomstein & Behrmann,
2006). This association of the left parietal region with object-based attention is
consistent with the earlier research we reviewed (see Figure 3.18) showing that
the right parietal region is responsible for attention to global features and the
left for attention to local features.
■ Visual attention can be directed either toward objects independent
of their location or toward locations independent of what objects are
present.
◆ Central Attention: Selecting Lines of
Thought to Pursue
So far, this chapter has considered how people allocate their attention to pro-
cess stimuli in the visual and auditory modalities. What about cognition after
the stimuli are attended to and encoded? How do we select which lines of
thought to pursue? Suppose we are driving down a highway and encode the
fact that a dog is sitting in the middle of the road. We might want to figure
out why the dog is sitting there, we might want to consider whether there is
something we should do to help the dog, and we certainly want to decide how
best to steer the car to avoid an accident. Can we do all these things at once?
If not, how do we select the most important problem of deciding how to steer
and save the rest for later? It appears that people allocate central attention to
competing lines of thought in much the same way they allocate perceptual at-
tention to competing objects.
In many (but not all) circumstances, people are able to pursue only one
line of thought at a time. This section will describe
two laboratory experiments: one in which it appears
that people have no ability to overlap two tasks and
another in which they appear to have almost total
ability to do so. Then we will address how people can
develop the ability to overlap tasks and how they se-
lect among tasks when they cannot or do not want to
overlap them.
The first experiment, which Mike Byrne and I
did (Byrne & Anderson, 2001), illustrates the claim
made at the beginning of the chapter about it being
impossible to multiply and add two numbers at the
same time. Participants in this experiment saw a
string of three digits, such as “3 4 7.” Then they were
asked to do one or both of two tasks:
● Task 1: Judge whether the first two digits add up
to the third and press a key with the right index
finger if they do and another key with the left
index finger if they do not.
● Task 2: Report verbally the product of the first
and third numbers. In this case, the answer is 21,
because 3 × 7 = 21.
Figure 3.21 compares the time required to do
each task in the single-task condition versus the
Verify
addition
La
te
nc
y
(m
s)
Generate
multiplication
250
0
500
750
1000
1250
1500
1750
2000
2250
Stimulus: 3 4 7
Mean time to complete both tasks
Single task
Dual task
FIGURE 3.21 The results of
an experiment by Byrne and
Anderson to see whether
people can overlap two tasks.
The bars show the response
times required to solve two
problems—one of addition and
one of multiplication—when done
by themselves and when done
together. The results indicate that
the participants were not able to
overlap the addition and multipli-
cation computations. (Data from
Byrne & Anderson, 2001.)
Anderson_8e_Ch03.indd 69 13/09/14 9:37 AM
70 / Chapter 3 AT T e n T I o n A n d P e r f o r m A n C e
time required for each task in the dual-task condition. Participants took al-
most twice as long to do either task when they had to perform the other as
well. In the dual task they sometimes gave the answer for the multiplication
task first (59% of the time) and sometimes the addition task first (41%). The
bars in Figure 3.21 for the dual task reflect the time to answer the problem
whether the task was answered first or second. The horizontal black line
near the top of Figure 3.21 represents the time they took to give the both
answers. This time (1.99 s) is greater than the sum of the time for the verifi-
cation task by itself (0.88 s) and the time for the multiplication task by itself
(1.05 s). The extra time probably reflects the cost of shifting between tasks
(for reviews, see Monsell, 2003; Kiesel et al., 2010). In any case, it appears
that the participants were not able to overlap the addition and multiplication
computations at all.
The second experiment, reported by Schumacher et al. (2001), illustrates
what is referred to as perfect time-sharing. The tasks were much simpler than
the tasks in the Byrne and Anderson (2001) experiment. Participants simul-
taneously saw a single letter on a screen and heard a tone and, as in the first
experiment, had to perform two tasks, either individually or at the same time:
● Task 1: Press a left, middle, or right key according to whether the letter
occurred on the left, in the middle, or on the right.
● Task 2: Say “one,” “two,” or “three” according to whether the tone was low,
middle, or high in frequency.
Figure 3.22 compares the times required to do each task in the single-task
condition and the dual-task condition. As can be seen, these times are nearly un-
affected by the requirement to do the two tasks at once. There are many differ-
ences between this task and the Byrne and Anderson task, but the most apparent
is the complexity of the tasks. Participants were able to do the individual tasks
in the second experiment in a few hundred milliseconds, whereas the individual
tasks in the first experiment took around a second. Significantly more thought
Location
discrimination
Re
sp
on
se
ti
m
e
(m
s)
0
50
100
150
200
250
300
350
400
450
500
Tone
discrimination
Single task
Dual task
FIGURE 3.22 The results of
an experiment by schumacher
et al. illustrating near perfect
time-sharing. The bars show
the times required to perform
two simple tasks—a location
discrimination task and a tone
discrimination task—when done
by themselves and when done
together. The times were nearly
unaffected by the requirement
to do the two tasks at once,
indicating that the participants
achieved almost perfect time-
sharing. (Data from Schumacher
et al., 2001.)
Anderson_8e_Ch03.indd 70 13/09/14 9:38 AM
C e n T r A l AT T e n T I o n : s e l e C T I n G l I n e s o f T H o u G H T To P u r s u e / 71
was required in the first experiment, and it is hard for people to engage in both
streams of thought simultaneously. Also, participants in the second experiment
achieved perfect time-sharing only after five sessions of practice, whereas par-
ticipants in the first experiment had only one session of practice.
Figure 3.23 presents an analysis of what occurred in the Schumacher et al.
(2001) experiment. It shows what was happening at various points in time in
five streams of processing: (1) perceiving the visual location of a letter, (2) gen-
erating manual actions, (3) central cognition, (4) perceiving auditory stimuli,
and (5) generating speech. Task 1 involved visually encoding the location of the
letter, using central cognition to select which key to press, and then performing
the actual finger movement. Task 2 involved detecting and encoding the tone,
using central cognition to select which word to say (“one,” “two,” or “three”),
and then saying it. The lengths of the boxes in Figure 3.23 represent estimates
of the duration of each component based on human performance studies. Each
of these streams can go on in parallel with the others. For instance, during the
time the tone is being detected and encoded, the location of the letter is be-
ing encoded (which happens much faster), a key is being selected by central
cognition, and the motor system is starting to program the action. Although
all these streams can go on in parallel, within each stream only one thing can
happen at a time. This could create a bottleneck in the central cognition stream,
because central cognition must direct all activities (e.g., in this case, it must
serve both task 1 and task 2). In this experiment, however, the length of time
devoted to central cognition was so brief that the two tasks did not contend for
the resource. The five days of practice in this experiment played a critical role
in reducing the amount of time devoted to central cognition.
Although the discussion here has focused on bottlenecks in central
cognition, there can be bottlenecks in any of the processing streams. Earlier, we
reviewed evidence that people cannot attend to two locations at once; they must
Encode
letter
location
Vision
Manual action
Central cognition
Speech
Time (ms)
Streams of processing:
Ta
sk
2
Ta
sk
1
Audition
Select
action
Program key press
Detect and
encode tone
0 100 200 300 400
Generate speech
Select
action
FIGURE 3.23 An analysis of the timing of events in five streams of processing during
execution of the dual task in the schumacher et al. (2001) experiment: (1) vision,
(2) manual action, (3) central cognition, (4) speech, and (5) audition.
Anderson_8e_Ch03.indd 71 13/09/14 9:38 AM
72 / Chapter 3 AT T e n T I o n A n d P e r f o r m A n C e
shift their attention across locations in the visual array serially. Similarly, they
can process only one speech stream at a time, move their hands in one way at
a time, or say one thing at a time. Even though all these peripheral processes
can have bottlenecks, it is generally thought that bottlenecks in central cogni-
tion can have the most significant effects, and they are the reason we seldom
find ourselves thinking about two things at once. The bottleneck in central
cognition is referred to as the central bottleneck.
■ People can process multiple perceptual modalities at once or
execute actions in multiple motor systems at once, but they cannot
process multiple things in a single system, including central cognition.
Automaticity: Expertise Through Practice
The near perfect time-sharing in Figure 3.22 only emerged after 5 days of prac-
tice. The general effect of practice is to reduce the central cognitive component
of information processing. When one has practiced the central cognitive com-
ponent of a task so much that the task requires little or no thought, we say that
doing the task is automatic. Automaticity is a matter of degree. A nice example
is driving. For experienced drivers in unchallenging conditions, driving has
become so automatic that they can carry on a conversation while driving
with little difficulty. Experienced drivers are much more successful at doing
secondary tasks like changing the radio (Wikman, Nieminen, & Summala,
1998). Experienced drivers also often have the experience of traveling long
stretches of highway with no memory of what they did.
There have been a number of dramatic demonstrations in the psycho-
logical literature of how practice can enable parallel processing. For instance,
Underwood (1974) reports a study on the psychologist Neville Moray, who had
spent many years studying shadowing. During that time, Moray practiced shad-
owing a great deal, and unlike most participants in experiments, he was very
good at reporting what was contained in the unattended channel. Through a
great deal of practice, the process of shadowing had become partially automatic
for Moray, and he had capacity left over to attend to the unshadowed channel.
Spelke, Hirst, and Neisser (1976) provided an interesting demonstration of
how a highly practiced skill ceases to interfere with other ongoing behaviors. (This
was a follow-up of a demonstration pioneered by the writer Gertrude Stein when
Why is cell phone use
and driving a dangerous
combination?
Bottlenecks in information processing
can have important practical implica-
tions. A study by the Harvard Center
for risk Analysis (Cohen & Graham,
2003) estimates that cell phone
distraction results in 2,600 deaths,
330,000 injuries, and 1.5 million
instances of property damage in the
united states each year. strayer and
drews (2007) review the evidence
that people are more likely to miss
traffic lights and other critical informa-
tion while talking on a cell phone.
moreover, these problems are not
any better with hands-free phones. In
contrast, listening to a radio or books
on tape does not interfere with driv-
ing. strayer and drews suggest that
the demands of participating in a
conversation place more require-
ments on central cognition. When
someone says something on the cell
phone, they expect an answer and
are unaware of the current driving
conditions. strayer and drews note
that participating in a conversation
with a passenger in the car is not as
distracting because the passenger
will adjust the conversation to driv-
ing demands and even point out
potential dangers to the driver.
I m p l I c a t I o n s
▼
To
m
G
ril
l/C
or
bi
s.
▲
Anderson_8e_Ch03.indd 72 13/09/14 9:38 AM
C e n T r A l AT T e n T I o n : s e l e C T I n G l I n e s o f T H o u G H T To P u r s u e / 73
she was an undergraduate working with William James at Harvard University.)
Their participants had to perform two tasks simultaneously: read a text silently
for comprehension while copying words dictated by the experimenter. At first,
this was extremely difficult. Participants had to read much more slowly than nor-
mal in order to copy the words accurately. After six weeks of practice, however, the
participants were reading at normal speed. They had become so skilled at copying
automatically that their comprehension scores were the same as for normal read-
ing. For these participants, reading while copying had become no more difficult
than reading while walking. It is of interest that participants reported no awareness
of what it was they were copying. Much as with driving, the participants lost their
awareness of the automated activity.3
Another example of automaticity is transcription typing. A typist is simultane-
ously reading the text and executing the finger strokes for typing. In this case, we
have three systems operating in parallel: perception of the text to be typed, central
translation of the earlier perceived letters into keystrokes, and the actual typing of
the letters. It is the central processes that get automated. Skilled transcription typists
often report little awareness of what they are typing, because this task has become
so automated. Skilled typists also find it impossible to stop typing instantaneously.
If suddenly told to stop, they will hit a few more letters before quitting (Salthouse,
1985, 1986).
■ As tasks become practiced, they become more automatic and
require less and less central cognition to execute.
The Stroop Effect
Automatic processes not only require little or no central cognition to execute
but also appear to be difficult to prevent. A good example is word recognition for
practiced readers. It is virtually impossible to look at a common word and not
read it. This strong tendency for words to be recognized
automatically has been studied in a phenomenon known as
the Stroop effect, after the psychologist who first demon-
strated it, J. Ridley Stroop (1935). The task requires partici-
pants to say the ink color in which words are printed. Color
Plate 3.2 provides an illustration of such a task. Try naming
the colors of the words in each column as fast as you can.
Which column was easiest to read? Which was hardest?
The three columns illustrate three of the conditions in
which the Stroop effect is studied. The first column illus-
trates a neutral, or control, condition in which the words
are not color words. The second column illustrates the
congruent condition in which the words are the same as
the color of the ink they are printed in. The third column
illustrates the conflict condition in which there are color
words but they are different from their ink colors. A typical
modern experiment, rather than having participants read
a whole column, will present a single word at a time and
measure the time to name that word. Figure 3.24 shows
the results from such an experiment on the Stroop effect
by Dunbar and MacLeod (1984). Compared to the control
condition of a neutral word, participants could name the
3 When given further training with the intention of remembering what they were transcribing, partici-
pants were also able to recall this information.
Re
ac
tio
n
tim
e
(m
s)
900
800
700
600
500
400
Congruent Control Conflict
Color naming
Word reading
Condition
FIGURE 3.24 Performance data
for the standard stroop task. The
curves plot the average reaction
time of the participants as a func-
tion of the condition tested: con-
gruent (the word was the name
of the ink color); control (the
word was not related to color at
all); and conflict (the word was
the name of a color different
from the ink color). (Data from
Dunbar & MacLeod, 1984.)
Anderson_8e_Ch03.indd 73 13/09/14 9:38 AM
74 / Chapter 3 AT T e n T I o n A n d P e r f o r m A n C e
ink color somewhat faster in the congruent condition—when the word was the
name of the ink color. In the conflict condition, when the word was the name
of a different color, they named the ink color much more slowly. For instance,
they had great difficulty in saying “green” when the ink color of the word red was
green. Figure 3.24 also shows the results when the task is switched and partici-
pants are asked to read the word and not name the color. The effects are asym-
metrical; that is, individual participants experienced very little interference in
reading a word even if it was different from its ink color. This reflects the highly
automatic character of reading. Additional evidence for its automaticity is that
participants could read a word much faster than they could name its ink color.
Reading is such an automatic process that not only is it unaffected by the color,
but participants are unable to inhibit reading the word, and that reading can in-
terfere with the color naming.
MacLeod and Dunbar (1988) looked at the effect of practice on performance
in a variant of the Stroop task. They used an experiment in which the participants
learned the color names for random shapes. Part (a) of Color Plate 3.3 illustrates
the shape-color associations they might learn. The experimenters then presented
the participants with test geometric shapes and asked them to say either the color
name associated with the shape or the actual ink color of the shape. As in the
original Stroop experiment, there were three conditions; these are illustrated in
part (b) of Color Plate 3.3:
1. Congruent: The shape was in the same ink color as its name.
2. Control: White shapes were presented when participants were to say the
color name for the shape; colored squares were presented when they were
to name the ink color of the shape. (The square shape was not associated
with any color.)
3. Conflict: The random shape was in a different ink color from its name.
As shown in Figure 3.25, color naming was much more automatic than shape
naming and was relatively unaffected by congruence with the shape, whereas
shape naming was affected by congruence with the ink color (Figure 3.25a).
Re
ac
tio
n
tim
e
(m
s)
750
700
650
600
550
500
450
Congruent Control Conflict
Condition(a) (b)
Re
ac
tio
n
tim
e
(m
s)
750
700
650
600
550
500
450
Congruent Control Conflict
Condition
Color naming
Shape naming
Color naming
Shape naming
FIGURE 3.25 results from the experiment created by macleod and dunbar (1988) to
evaluate the effect of practice on the performance of a stroop task. The data reported
are the average times required to name shapes and colors as a function of color-shape
congruence: (a) initial performance and (b) after 20 days of practice. The practice made
shape naming automatic, like word reading, so that it affected color naming. (Data from
MacLeod and Dunbar, 1988.)
Stroop Effect
Anderson_8e_Ch03.indd 74 13/09/14 9:38 AM
C e n T r A l AT T e n T I o n : s e l e C T I n G l I n e s o f T H o u G H T To P u r s u e / 75
Then MacLeod and Dunbar gave the participants 20 days of practice at naming
the shapes. Participants became much faster at naming shapes, and now shape
naming interfered with color naming rather than vice versa (Figure 3.25b).
Thus, the consequence of the training was to make shape naming automatic,
like word reading, so that it affected color naming.
■ Reading a word is such an automatic process that it is difficult to
inhibit, and it will interfere with processing other information about
the word.
Prefrontal Sites of Executive Control
We have seen that the parietal cortex is important in the exercise of attention in the
perceptual domain. There is evidence that the prefrontal regions are particularly
important in direction of central cognition, often known as executive control. The
prefrontal cortex is that portion of the frontal cortex anterior to the premotor re-
gion (the premotor region is area 6 in Color Plate 1.1). Just as damage to parietal
regions results in deficits in the deployment of perceptual attention, damage to pre-
frontal regions results in deficits of executive control. Patients with such damage of-
ten seem totally driven by the stimulus and fail to control their behavior according
to their intentions. A patient who sees a comb on the table may simply pick it up
and begin combing her hair; another who sees a pair of glasses will put them on
even if he already has a pair on his face. Patients with damage to prefrontal regions
show marked deficits in the Stroop task and often cannot refrain from saying the
word rather than naming the color (Janer & Pardo, 1991).
Two prefrontal regions shown in Figure 3.1 seem particularly important in
executive control. One is the dorsolateral prefrontal cortex (DLPFC), which is
the upper portion of the prefrontal cortex. It is called dorsolateral because it is
high (dorsal) and to the side (lateral). The second region is the anterior cingu-
late cortex (ACC), which is folded under the visible surface of the brain along
the midline. The DLPFC seems particularly important in the setting of inten-
tions and the control of behavior. For instance, it is highly active during the
simultaneous performance of dual tasks such as those whose results are reported
in Figures 3.21 and 3.22 (Szameitat, Schubert, Muller, & von Cramon, 2002).
The ACC seems particularly active when people must monitor conflict between
competing tendencies. For instance, brain-imaging studies show that it is highly
active in Stroop trials when a participant must name the color of a word printed
in an ink of conflicting color (J. V. Pardo, P. J. Pardo, Janer, & Raichle, 1990).
There is a strong relationship between the ACC and cognitive control in many
tasks. For instance, it appears that children develop more cognitive control as their
ACC develops. The amount of activation in the ACC appears to be correlated with
children’s performance in tasks requiring cognitive control (Casey et al., 1997a). De-
velopmentally, there also appears to be a positive correlation between performance
and sheer volume of the ACC (Casey et al., 1997b). Weissman, Roberts, Visscher,
and Woldorff (2006) studied trial-to-trial variation in activity of the ACC when
participants were performing a simple judgment task. When there was a decrease
in ACC activation, participants showed an increase in time to make the judgment.
Weissman et al.’s interpretation was that lapses in attention are produced by de-
creases in ACC activation.
A nice paradigm for demonstrating the development of cognitive control in
children is the “Simon says” task. In one study, Jones, Rothbart, and Posner (2003)
had children receive instructions from two dolls—a bear and an elephant—such
as, “Elephant says, ‘Touch your nose.’ ” The children were to follow the instructions
from one doll (the act doll) and ignore the instructions from the other (the inhibit
Anderson_8e_Ch03.indd 75 13/09/14 9:38 AM
76 / Chapter 3 AT T e n T I o n A n d P e r f o r m A n C e
doll). All children successfully followed the act doll but many had diffi-
culty ignoring the inhibit doll. From the age of 36 to 48 months, children
progressed from 22% success to 91% success in ignoring the inhibit doll.
Some children used physical strategies to control their behavior such as sit-
ting on their hands or distorting their actions—pointing to their ear rather
than their nose.
Another way to appreciate the importance of prefrontal regions to
cognitive control is to compare the performance of humans with that of
other primates. As reviewed in Chapter 1, a major dimension of the evo-
lution from primates to humans has been the increase in the size of pre-
frontal regions. Primates can be trained to do many tasks that humans do,
and so they permit careful comparison. One such task involving a variant
of the Stroop task presents participants with a display of numerals (e.g., five
3s) and pits naming the number of objects against indicating the identity of
the numerals. Figure 3.26 provides an example of this task in the same form
as the original Stroop task (Color Plate 3.2): trying to count the number of
numerals in each line versus trying to name the numerals in each line. The
stronger interference in this case is from the numeral naming to the count-
ing (Windes, 1968). This paradigm has been used to compare Stroop-like
interference in humans versus rhesus monkeys who had been trained to as-
sociate the numerals with their relative quantities—for example, they had
learned that “5” represented a larger quantity than “2” (Washburn, 1994).
Both monkeys and humans were shown two arrays and were required to in-
dicate which had more numerals independent of the identity of the numer-
als (see Figure 3.27). Table 3.1 shows the performance of the monkeys and
humans. Compared to a baseline where they had to judge which array of
letters had more objects, both humans and monkeys performed better when
the numerals agreed with the difference in cardinality and performed worse when
the numerals disagreed (as they do in Figure 3.26). Both populations showed simi-
lar reaction time effects, but whereas the humans made 3% errors in the incongru-
ent condition, the monkeys made 27% errors. The level of performance observed in
the monkeys was like the level of performance observed in patients with damage to
their frontal lobes.
■ Prefrontal regions, particularly DLPFC and ACC, play a major
role in executive control.
◆ Conclusions
There has been a gradual shift in the way cognitive psychology has perceived
the issue of attention. For a long time, the implicit assumption was captured by
this famous quote from William James (1890) over a century ago:
5 5 5
1 1 1 1
2
3 3 3 3 3
4 4
5 5 5
4 4 4 4 4
5 5 5 5
3
4 4 4
2 2 2 2
3 3
4 4 4
1 1 1 1
3
2 2 2
FIGURE 3.26 A numerical stroop
task comparable to the color
stroop task (see Color Plate 3.2).
FIGURE 3.27 A monkey reaches
through its cage to manipulate
the joystick so as to bring the cur-
sor into contact with one of the
arrays. (From Washburn, 1994.)
Everyone knows what attention is. It is the taking posses-
sion by the mind, in a clear and vivid form, of one out of
what seem several simultaneously possible objects or trains
of thought. Focalization, concentration of consciousness
are of its essence. It implies withdrawal from some things in
order to deal effectively with others. (pp. 403–404)
Two features of this quote reflect conceptions once held about atten-
tion. The first is that attention is strongly related to consciousness—we
cannot attend to one thing unless we are conscious of it. The second is
that attention, like consciousness, is a unitary system. More and more,
cognitive psychology is beginning to recognize that attention operates
Anderson_8e_Ch03.indd 76 13/09/14 9:38 AM
C o n C l u s I o n s / 77
at an unconscious level. For instance, people often are not conscious of where they
have moved their eyes. Along with this recognition has come the realization that at-
tention is multifaceted (e.g., Chun, Golumb, & Turk-Browne, 2011). We have seen
that it makes sense to separate auditory attention from visual attention and atten-
tion in perceptual processing from attention in executive control from attention in
response generation. The brain consists of a number of parallel processing systems
for the various perceptual systems, motor systems, and central cognition. Each of
these parallel systems seems to suffer bottlenecks—points at which it must focus its
processing on a single thing. Attention is best conceived as the processes by which
each of these systems is allocated to potentially competing information-processing
demands. The amount of interference that occurs among tasks is a function of the
overlap in the demands that these tasks make on the same systems.
TABLE 3.1 mean response Times and Accuracy levels as a function of species
and Condition
Condition Accuracy (%) Response Time (ms)
Rhesus Monkeys (N = 6)
Congruent numerals 92 676
Baseline (letters) 86 735
Incongruent numerals 73 829
Human Participants (N = 28)
Congruent numerals 99 584
Baseline (letters) 99 613
Incongruent numerals 97 661
Questions for Thought
1. The chapter discussed how listening to one spo-
ken message makes it difficult to process a second
spoken message. Do you think that listening to a
conversation on a cell phone while driving makes
it harder to process other sounds, such as a car
horn honking?
2. Which should produce greater parietal
activation: searching Figure 3.13a for a T or
searching Figure 3.13b for a T?
3. Describe circumstances where it would be
advantageous to focus one’s attention on an
object rather than a region of space, and describe
circumstances where the opposite would be true.
4. We have discussed how automatic behaviors
can intrude on other behaviors and how some
aspects of driving can become automatic.
Consider the situation in which a passenger in a
car is a skilled driver and has automatic aspects
of driving evoked by the driving experience. Can
you think of examples where automatic aspects
of driving seem to affect a passenger’s behavior
in a car? Might this help explain why having a
conversation with a passenger in a car is not as
distracting as having a conversation over a cell
phone?
Key Terms
anterior cingulate cortex
(ACC)
attention
attenuation theory
automaticity
binding problem
central bottleneck
dichotic listening task
dorsolateral prefrontal
cortex (DLPFC)
early-selection theories
executive control
feature-integration
theory
filter theory
goal-directed attention
illusory conjunction
inhibition of return
late-selection theories
object-based attention
perfect time-sharing
serial bottleneck
space-based attention
stimulus-driven attention
Stroop effect
Anderson_8e_Ch03.indd 77 13/09/14 9:38 AM
78
Try answering these two questions:
● How many windows are in your house?
● How many nouns are in the American Pledge of Allegiance?
Most people who answer these questions have the same experience. For the first
question they imagine themselves walking around their house and counting win-
dows. For the second question, if they do not actually say the Pledge of Alliance out
loud, they imagine themselves saying the Pledge of Allegiance. In both cases they
are creating mental images of what they would have perceived.
Use of visual imagery is particularly important. As a result of our primate herit-
age, a large portion of our brain processes visual information. Therefore, we use
these brain structures as much as we can, even in the absence of a visual signal
from the outside world, by creating mental images in our heads. Some of human-
kind’s most creative acts involve visual imagery. For instance, Einstein claimed he dis-
covered the theory of relativity by imagining himself traveling beside a beam of light.
A major debate in cognitive psychology has been the degree to which the
processes behind visual imagery are the same as the perceptual and attentional
processes that we considered in the previous two chapters. Some researchers
(e.g., Pylyshyn, 1973, in an article sarcastically titled “What the Mind’s Eye Tells the
Mind’s Brain”) have argued that our perceptual experience when doing something
like picturing the windows in our house is an epiphenomenon; that is, it is a
mental experience that does not have any functional role in information processing.
The philosopher Daniel Dennett (1969) also argued that mental images are
epiphenomenal:
Consider the Tiger and his Stripes. I can dream, imagine or see a striped
tiger, but must the tiger I experience have a particular number of stripes? If
seeing or imagining is having a mental image, then the image of the tiger
must—obeying the rules of images in general—reveal a definite number of
stripes showing, and one should be able to pin this down with such ques-
tions as “more than ten?”, “less than twenty?” (p. 136)
Dennett’s argument is that if we are actually seeing a tiger in a mental image, we
should be able to count its stripes just like we could if we actually saw a tiger. If
we cannot count the stripes in a mental image of a tiger, we are not having a real
perceptual experience. This argument is not considered decisive, but it does illustrate
the discomfort some people have with the claim that mental images are actually
perceptual in character.
This chapter will review some of the experimental evidence showing the ways
that mental imagery does play a role in information processing. We will define
4
Mental Imagery
Anderson_8e_Ch04.indd 78 13/09/14 9:38 AM
V E r B A l I M A g E r y V E r S U S V I S U A l I M A g E r y / 79
mental imagery broadly as the processing of perceptual-like information in the
absence of an external source for the perceptual information. We will consider the
following questions:
● How do we process the information in a mental image?
● How is imaginal processing related to perceptual processing?
● What brain areas are involved in mental imagery?
● How do we develop mental images of our environment and use these to navi-
gate through the environment?
◆ Verbal Imagery Versus Visual Imagery
Cognitive neuroscience has provided increasing evidence that several dif-
ferent brain regions are involved in mental imagery. This evidence has come
from both studies of patients suffering damage to various brain regions and
studies of the brain activation of normal individuals as they engage in vari-
ous imagery tasks. In one of the early studies of brain activation patterns
during mental imagery, Roland and Friberg (1985) identified many of the
brain regions that have been investigated in subsequent research. The inves-
tigators measured changes in blood flow in the brain as participants either
mentally rehearsed a nine-word circular jingle or mentally rehearsed finding
their way around streets in their neighborhoods. Figure 4.1 illustrates the
principal areas they identified. When participants engaged in the verbal jin-
gle task, there was activation in the prefrontal cortex near Broca’s area and in
the parietal-temporal region of the posterior cortex near Wernicke’s area. As
discussed in Chapter 1, patients with damage to these regions show deficits
in language processing. When participants engaged in the visual task, there
was activation in the parietal cortex, occipital cortex, and temporal cortex.
All these areas are involved in visual perception and attention, as we saw in
Chapters 2 and 3. Thus, when people process imagery of language or visual
information, some of the same brain areas are active as when they process ac-
tual speech or visual information.
An experiment by Santa (1977) demonstrated the functional consequence
of representing information in a visual image versus representing it in a verbal
image. The two conditions of Santa’s experiment are shown in Figure 4.2. In
the geometric condition (Figure 4.2a), participants studied an array of three
R
R
R
R
J
J
Brain Structures FIGURE 4.1 results from roland
and Friberg’s (1985) study of
brain activation patterns during
mental imagery. regions of the
left cortex showed increased
blood flow when participants
imagined a verbal jingle (J) or a
spatial route (r).
Mental Imagery
Anderson_8e_Ch04.indd 79 13/09/14 9:38 AM
80 / Chapter 4 M E n TA l I M A g E r y
geometric objects, arranged with one object centered below the other two. As
can be seen without much effort, this array has a facelike property (eyes and
a mouth). After participants studied the array, it was removed, and they had
to hold the information in their minds. They were presented with one of sev-
eral different test arrays. The participants’ task was to verify that the test array
contained the same elements as the study array, although not necessarily in the
same spatial configuration. Thus, participants should have responded posi-
tively to the first two test arrays in Figure 4.2a and negatively to the last two.
The interesting results concern the difference between the two positive test ar-
rays. The first was identical to the study array (same-configuration condition).
In the second array, the elements were displayed in a line (linear-configuration
condition). Santa predicted that participants would make a positive identifi-
cation more quickly in the first case, where the configuration was identical—
because, he hypothesized, the mental image for
the study stimulus would preserve spatial infor-
mation. The results for the geometric condition
in Figure 4.3 confirm Santa’s predictions. Par-
ticipants were faster in their judgments when the
geometric test array preserved the configuration
information in the study array.
The results from the geometric condition
are more impressive when contrasted with the
results from the verbal condition, illustrated in
Figure 4.2b. Here, participants studied words ar-
ranged exactly as the objects in the geometric
condition were arranged. Because it involved
words, however, the study stimulus did not sug-
gest a face or have any pictorial properties. Santa
FIGURE 4.2 The procedure
followed in Santa’s (1977)
experiment demonstrating
that visual and verbal
information are represented
differently in mental images.
Participants studied an initial
array of objects or words and
then had to decide whether a
test array contained the same
elements. geometric shapes
were used in (a) and words
for the shapes in (b).
FIGURE 4.3 results from Santa’s
(1977) experiment. The data con-
firmed two of Santa’s hypotheses:
(1) In the geometric condition,
participants would make a positive
identification more quickly when
the configuration was identical
than when it was linear, because
the visual image of the study
stimulus would preserve spatial
information. (2) In the verbal con-
dition, participants would make a
positive identification more quickly
when the configuration was linear
than when it was identical, be-
cause participants had encoded
the words from the study array
linearly, in accordance with normal
reading order in English.
Geometric
Verbal
Re
ac
tio
n
tim
e
(s
) 1.25
1.15
Same
configuration
Linear
configuration
Study
array
arrays
Test
Test
arrays
Study
array
Identical,
same configuration
Same elements,
linear configuration
Different elements,
same configuration
Different elements,
linear configuration
Triangle Circle
Square
Triangle Circle
Square
Triangle Circle Square
Triangle Circle
Arrow
Triangle Circle Arrow
Identical,
same configuration
Same words,
linear configuration
Different words,
same configuration
Different words,
linear configuration
(a) Geometric condition
(b) Verbal condition
Anderson_8e_Ch04.indd 80 13/09/14 9:38 AM
V E r B A l I M A g E r y V E r S U S V I S U A l I M A g E r y / 81
speculated that participants would read the array left to right and top to bot-
tom and encode a verbal image with the information. So, given the study ar-
ray, participants would encode it as “triangle, circle, square.” After they stud-
ied the initial array, one of the test arrays was presented and participants had
to judge whether the words were identical. All the test stimuli involved words,
but otherwise they presented the same possibilities as the test stimuli in the
geometric condition. The two positive stimuli exemplify the same-configura-
tion condition and the linear-configuration condition. Note that the order of
words in the linear array was the same as it was in the study stimulus. Santa
predicted that, unlike the geometric condition, because participants had en-
coded the words into a linearly ordered verbal image, they would be fastest
when the test array was linear. As Figure 4.3 illustrates, his predictions were
again confirmed.
■ Different parts of the brain are involved in verbal and visual
imagery, and they represent and process information differently.
Using brain activation to read
people’s minds
Scientists are learning how to decode
the brain activity of people to deter-
mine what they are thinking. In one
of the most impressive examples of
this work, nishimoto et al. (2011)
reconstructed movies from the brain
activity of participants watching these
movies (the movie is on the left and
the reconstruction on the right). The
photos in this box shows examples
of the reconstructions—while blurry,
they capture some of the content
from the original videos. research-
ers have gone beyond this and
asked whether they can identify
participants’ internal thoughts. For
instance, is it possible to identify
the mental images a person is
experiencing? There has been some
success at this and, interestingly,
the brain areas involved seem to be
the same regions as are involved in
actual viewing of the images (Stokes,
Thompson, Cusack, & Duncan,
2009; Cichy, Heinzle, & Haynes,
2012). Other research has reported
success in identifying the concepts
participants are thinking about
(Mitchell et al., 2008) and what par-
ticipants are thinking while solving
an equation (J. r. Anderson, Betts,
Ferris, & Fincham, 2010). Could these
methods be used in interrogation
to determine what people are really
thinking and whether they are lying?
This question has been the subject
of debate, but the consensus is that
the methodology is a long way from
being reliable, and it has not been
allowed in court (read the Washington
Post article “Debate on Brain Scans
as lie Detectors Highlighted in Mary-
land Murder Trial”). not surprisingly,
such research has received a lot of
press—for instance, see the 60 Min-
utes report “reading your Mind” or
the PBS NewsHour report “It’s not
Mind-reading, but Scientists Explor-
ing How Brains Perceive the World,”
which you can find on youTube.
I m p l I c a t I o n s
▼
▲
Ni
sh
im
ot
o
et
a
l.,
20
11
. R
ep
rin
te
d
wi
th
p
er
m
iss
io
n
fro
m
E
lse
vie
r.
Anderson_8e_Ch04.indd 81 13/09/14 9:38 AM
82 / Chapter 4 M E n TA l I M A g E r y
◆ Visual Imagery
Most of the research on mental imagery has involved visual imagery, and this
will be the principal focus of this chapter. One function of mental imagery is
to anticipate how objects will look from different perspectives. People often
have the impression that they rotate objects mentally to change the perspective.
Roger Shepard and his colleagues were involved in a long series of experiments
on mental rotation. Their research was among the first to study the functional
properties of mental images, and it has been very influential. It is interesting to
note that this research was inspired by a dream (Shepard, 1967): Shepard awoke
one day and remembered having visualized a 3-D structure turning in space.
He convinced Jackie Metzler, a first-year graduate student at Stanford, to study
mental rotation, and the rest is history.
Their first experiment was reported in the journal Science (Shepard &
Metzler, 1971). Participants were presented with pairs of 2-D representations of
3-D objects, like those in Figure 4.4. Their task was to determine whether the
objects were identical except for orientation. In Figure 4.4a and Figure 4.4b, the
two objects are identical but are at different orientations. Participants reported
that to match the two shapes, they mentally rotated one of the objects in each
pair until it was congruent with the other object.
The graphs in Figure 4.5 show the times required for participants to decide
that the pairs were identical. The reaction times are plotted as a function of the
angular disparity between the two objects presented. The angular disparity is
the amount one object would have to be rotated to match the other object in
orientation. Note that the relationship is linear—for every increment in amount
of rotation, there is an equal increment in reaction time. Reaction time is plot-
ted for two different kinds of rotation. One is for 2-D rotations (Figure 4.5a),
which can be performed in the picture plane (i.e., by rotating the page); the
other is for depth rotations (Figure 4.5b), which require the participant to rotate
the object into the page. Note that the two functions are very similar. Processing
an object in depth (in three dimensions) does not appear to have taken longer
than processing an object in the picture plane. Hence, participants must have
been operating on 3-D representations of the objects in both the picture-plane
and depth conditions.
These data seem to indicate that participants rotated the object in a 3-D
space within their heads. The greater the angle of disparity between the two
objects, the longer participants took to complete the rotation. Though the par-
ticipants were obviously not actually rotating a real object in their heads, the
mental process appears to be analogous to physical rotation.
(b) (c)(a)
FIGURE 4.4 Stimuli in the Shepard and Metzler (1971) study on mental rotation. (a) The
objects differ by an 80° rotation in the picture plane (two dimensions). (b) The objects
differ by an 80° rotation in depth (three dimensions). (c) The objects cannot be
rotated into congruence. (From Shepard, R. N., & Metzler, J. (1971). Mental Rotation of
Three-Dimensional Objects. Science, 171. Copyright © 1971 American Association for the
Advancement of Science. Reprinted by permission.)
Mental Rotation
Anderson_8e_Ch04.indd 82 13/09/14 9:38 AM
V I S U A l I M A g E r y / 83
A great deal of subsequent research has examined the mental rotation of all
sorts of different objects, typically finding that the time required to complete a
rotation varies with the angle of disparity. There have also been a number of brain-
imaging studies that looked at what regions are active during mental rotation.
Consistently, the parietal region (roughly the region labeled R at the upper back
of the brain in Figure 4.1) has been activated across a range of tasks. This finding
corresponds with the results we reviewed in Chapter 3 showing that the parietal
region is important in spatial attention. Some tasks involve activation of other
areas. For instance, Kosslyn, DiGirolamo, Thompson, and Alpert (1998) found
that imagining the rotation of one’s hand produced activation in the motor cortex.
Neural recordings of monkeys have provided some evidence about neural
representation during mental rotation involving hand movement. Georgopoulos,
Lurito, Petrides, Schwartz, and Massey (1989) had monkeys perform a task in
which they moved a handle to a specific angle in response to a given stimulus. In
the base condition, monkeys just moved the handle to the position of the stimu-
lus. Georgopoulos et al. found cells that fired for particular positions. So, for in-
stance, there were cells that fired most strongly when the monkeys were moving
the handle to the 9 o’clock position and other cells that responded most strongly
when the monkeys moved it to the 12 o’clock position. In the rotation condition,
the monkeys had to move the handle to a position rotated some number of de-
grees from the stimulus. For instance, if the monkeys had to move the handle
90° counterclockwise from a stimulus at the 12 o’clock position, they would have
to move the handle to 9 o’clock. If the stimulus appeared at the 6 o’clock posi-
tion, they would have to move the handle to 3 o’clock. The greater the angle, the
longer it took the monkeys to initiate the movement, suggesting that this task in-
volved a mental rotation process. In this rotation condition, Georgopoulos et al.
found that various cells fired at different times during the transformation. At the
beginning of a trial, when the stimulus was presented, the cells that fired most
were associated with a move in the direction of the stimulus. By the end of the
trial, when the monkeys actually moved the handle, maximum activity occurred
Angle of rotation (degrees)
(a) (b)
0 40 80 120 160
0
1
2
4
3
5
M
ea
n
re
ac
tio
n
tim
e
(s
)
0
1
2
4
3
5
M
ea
n
re
ac
tio
n
tim
e
(s
)
16012080400
FIGURE 4.5 results of the Shepard and Metzler (1971) study on mental rotation. The
mean time required to determine that two objects have the same 3-D shape is plotted
as a function of the angular difference in their portrayed orientations. (a) Plot for pairs dif-
fering by a rotation in the picture plane (two dimensions). (b) Plot for pairs differing by a
rotation in depth (three dimensions). (Data from Metzler & Shepard, 1974.)
Anderson_8e_Ch04.indd 83 13/09/14 9:38 AM
84 / Chapter 4 M E n TA l I M A g E r y
in cells associated with the movement. Between the beginning and the end of a
trial, cells representing intermediate directions were most active. These results
suggest that mental rotation involves gradual shifts of firing from cells that en-
code the initial stimulus (the handle at its initial angle) to cells that encode the
response (the handle at its final angle).
■ When people must transform the orientation of a mental image to
make a comparison, they rotate its representation through the inter-
mediate positions until they achieve the desired orientation.
Image Scanning
Something else we often do with mental images is to scan them for critical in-
formation. For instance, when people are asked how many windows there are
in their houses (the task described at the beginning of this chapter), many re-
port mentally going through the house visually and scanning each room for
windows. Researchers have studied whether people are actually scanning per-
ceptual representations in such tasks, as opposed to just retrieving abstract in-
formation. For instance, are we really “seeing” each window in the room or are
we just remembering how many windows are in the room?
Brooks (1968) performed an important series of experiments on the scan-
ning of visual images. He had participants scan imagined diagrams such as the
one shown in Figure 4.6. For example, the participant was to scan around an
imagined block F from a prescribed starting point and in a prescribed direc-
tion, categorizing each corner of the block as a point on the top or bottom (as-
signed a yes response) or as a point in between (assigned a no response). In the
example (beginning with the starting corner), the correct sequence of responses
is yes, yes, yes, no, no, no, no, no, no, yes. For a nonvisual contrast task, Brooks
also gave participants sentences such as “A bird in the hand is not in the bush.”
Participants had to scan the sentence while holding it in memory, deciding
whether each word was a noun or not. A second experimental variable was how
participants made their responses. Participants responded in one of three ways:
(1) said yes or no; (2) tapped with the left hand for yes and with the right hand
for no; or (3) pointed to successive Y’s or N’s on a sheet of paper such as the one
shown in Figure 4.7. The two variables of stimulus material (diagram or sen-
tence) and output mode were crossed to yield six conditions.
Table 4.1 gives the results of Brooks’s experiment in terms of the mean
time spent in classifying the sentences or diagrams in each output mode.
The important result for our purposes is that participants took much longer
for diagrams in the pointing mode than in the other two modes, but this
was not the case when participants were working with sentences. Appar-
ently, scanning a physical visual array conflicted with scanning a mental
array. This result strongly reinforces the conclusion that when people are
scanning a mental array, they are scanning a representation that is analo-
gous to a physical picture.
One might think that Brooks’s result was due to the conflict between
engaging in a visual pointing task and scanning a visual image. Subsequent
research makes it clear, however, that the interference is not a result of the
visual character of the task per se. Rather, the problem is spatial and not spe-
cifically visual; it arises from the conflicting directions in which participants
had to scan the physical visual array and the mental image. For instance, in
another experiment, Brooks found evidence of similar interference when par-
ticipants had their eyes closed and indicated yes or no by scanning an array of
raised Y’s and N’s with their fingers. In this case, the actual stimuli were tac-
tile, not visual. Thus, the conflict is spatial, not specifically visual.
Y
Y
Y
Y
Y
Y
Y
Y
Y
Y
Y
Y
N
N
N
N
N
N
N
N
N
N
N
N
FIGURE 4.6 An example of a
simple block diagram that Brooks
used to study the scanning of
mental images. The asterisk and
arrow show the starting point and
the direction for scanning the
image. (From Brooks, 1968. Re-
printed by permission of the pub-
lisher. © 1968 by the Canadian
Psychological Association.)
FIGURE 4.7 A sample output
sheet of the pointing mode
in Brooks’s study of mental
image scanning. The letters
are staggered to force careful
visual monitoring of pointing.
(From Brooks, 1968. Reprinted by
permission of the publisher.
© 1968 by the Canadian Psycho-
logical Association.)
Anderson_8e_Ch04.indd 84 13/09/14 9:38 AM
V I S U A l I M A g E r y / 85
Baddeley and Lieberman (reported in
Baddeley, 1976) performed an experiment
that further supports the view that the
nature of the interference in the Brooks
task is spatial rather than visual. Par-
ticipants were required to perform two
tasks simultaneously. All participants
performed the Brooks letter-image task.
However, participants in one group simul-
taneously monitored a series of stimuli of
two possible brightness levels and had to
press a key whenever the brighter stimulus appeared. This task involved the
processing of visual but not spatial information. Participants in the other con-
dition were blindfolded and seated in front of a swinging pendulum. The pen-
dulum emitted a tone and contained a photocell and participants had to try to
keep the beam of a flashlight on the swinging pendulum. Whenever they were
on target, the photocell caused the tone to change frequency, thus providing
auditory feedback. This test involved the processing of spatial but not visual
information. The spatial auditory tracking task produced far greater impair-
ment in the image-scanning task than did the brightness judgment task. This
result also indicates that the nature of the impairment in the Brooks task was
spatial, not visual.
■ People suffer interference in scanning a mental image if they have
to simultaneously process a conflicting perceptual structure.
Visual Comparison of Magnitudes
A fair amount of research has focused on the way people judge the visual details
of objects in their mental images. One line of research has asked participants to
discriminate between objects based on some dimension such as size. This re-
search has shown that when participants try to discriminate between two ob-
jects, the time it takes them to do so decreases continuously as the difference in
size between the two objects increases.
Moyer (1973) was interested in the speed with which participants could
judge the relative size of two animals from memory. For example, “Which is
larger, moose or roach?” and “Which is larger, wolf or lion?” Many people report
that in making these judgments, particularly for the items
that are similar in size, they experience images of the two
objects and compare the sizes of the objects in their images.
Moyer also asked participants to estimate the abso-
lute size of these animals. Figure 4.8 plots the time required
to compare the imagined sizes of two animals as a function
of the difference between the two animals’ estimated sizes.
The individual points in Figure 4.8 represent comparisons
between pairs of items. In general, the judgment times de-
creased as the difference in estimated size increased. The
graph shows that judgment time decreases linearly with
increases in the difference between the sizes of the two ani-
mals. Note, however, that the differences have been plotted
logarithmically, which makes the distance between small
differences large relative to the same distances between large
differences. Thus, the linear relationship in the graph means
that increasing the size difference has a diminishing effect on
reaction time.
TABLE 4.1 results of Brooks’s (1968) Experiment Showing Conflict
Between Mental Array and Visual Array Scanning
Mean Response Time (s)
by Output Mode
Stimulus Material Pointing Tapping Vocal
Diagrams 28.2 14.1 11.3
Sentences 9.8 7.8 13.8
From Brooks, 1968. reprinted by permission of the publisher. © 1968 by
the Canadian Psychological Association.
1.5
1.4
1.3
1.2
1.1
1.0
0.9
0.8
0.10 1.10 2.10
Estimated difference in animal size
M
ea
n
re
ac
tio
n
tim
e
(s
)
FIGURE 4.8 results from
Moyer’s experiment demon-
strating that when people try to
discriminate between two objects
on the basis of size, the time it
takes them to do so decreases
as the difference in size between
the two objects increases. Par-
ticipants were asked to compare
the imagined sizes of two ani-
mals. The mean time required
to judge which of two animals is
larger is plotted as a function of
the estimated difference in size
of the two animals. The differ-
ence measure is plotted on the
abscissa in a logarithmic scale.
(Data from Moyer, 1973.)
Anderson_8e_Ch04.indd 85 13/09/14 9:38 AM
86 / Chapter 4 M E n TA l I M A g E r y
Significantly, very similar results are obtained when peo-
ple visually compare physical size. For instance, D. M. Johnson
(1939) asked participants to judge which of two simultaneously
presented lines was longer. Figure 4.9 plots participant judgment
time as a function of the log difference in line length, and again,
a linear relation is obtained. It is reasonable to expect that the
more similar the lengths being compared are, the longer percep-
tual judgments will take, because telling them apart is more dif-
ficult under such circumstances. The fact that similar functions
are obtained when mental objects are compared indicates that
making mental comparisons involves the same processes as those
involved in perceptual comparisons.
■ People experience greater difficulty in judging the
relative size of two pictures or of two mental images
that are similar in size.
Are Visual Images Like Visual Perception?
Can people recognize patterns in mental images in the same way that they rec-
ognize patterns in things they actually see? In an experiment designed to inves-
tigate this question, Finke, Pinker, and Farah (1989) asked participants to create
mental images and then engage in a series of transformations of those images.
Here are two examples of the problems that they read to their participants:
● Imagine a capital letter N. Connect a diagonal line from the top right cor-
ner to the bottom left corner. Now rotate the figure 90° to the right. What
do you see?
● Imagine a capital letter D. Rotate the figure 90° to the left. Now place a
capital letter J at the bottom. What do you see?
Participants closed their eyes and tried to imagine these transformations
as they were read to them. The participants were able to recognize their com-
posite images just as if they had been presented with them on a screen. In the
first example, they saw an hourglass; in the second, an umbrella. The ability to
perform such tasks illustrates an important function of imagery: It enables us
to construct new objects in our minds and inspect them. It is just this sort of
visual synthesis that structural engineers or architects must perform as they de-
sign new bridges or buildings.
Chambers and Reisberg (1985) reported a study that seemed to indicate dif-
ferences between a mental image and visual perception of the real object. Their re-
search involved the processing of reversible figures, such as the duck-rabbit shown
in Figure 4.10. Participants were briefly shown the figure and asked to form an
image of it. They had only enough time to form one interpretation of the picture
before it was removed, but they were asked to try to find a second interpretation.
Participants were not able to do this. Then they were asked to draw the im-
age on paper to see whether they could reinterpret it. In this circumstance,
they were successful. This result suggests that mental images differ from pic-
tures in that one can interpret visual images only in one way, and it is not
possible to find an alternative interpretation of the image.
Subsequently, Peterson, Kihlstrom, Rose, and Gilsky (1992) were able
to get participants to reverse mental images by giving them more explicit
instructions. For instance, participants might be told how to reverse
another figure or be given the instruction to consider the back of the head
of the animal in their mental image as the front of the head of another
animal. Thus, it seems apparent that although it may be more difficult
1.4
M
ea
n
re
ac
tio
n
tim
e
(s
)
Difference in line length (mm)
2.3
3.2
2.9
1.7
2.0
2.6
1 2 3 4 6 8
FIGURE 4.9 results from the
D. M. Johnson (1939) study in
which participants compared the
lengths of two lines. The mean
time required to judge which
line was longer is plotted as a
function of the difference in line
length. The difference measure is
plotted on the abscissa in a loga-
rithmic scale. These results, which
are very similar to the results of
the Moyer (1973) experiment
shown in Figure 4.8, demonstrate
that making mental comparisons
involves difficulties of discrimina-
tion similar to those involved in
making perceptual comparisons.
FIGURE 4.10 The ambiguous
duck-rabbit figure used in Cham-
bers and reisberg’s study of the
processing of reversible figures.
(From Chambers & Reisberg, 1985.
Reprinted by permission of the
publisher. © 1985 by the American
Psychological Association.)
Anderson_8e_Ch04.indd 86 13/09/14 9:38 AM
V I S U A l I M A g E r y / 87
to reverse an image than a picture, both can be reversed. In general, it seems
harder to process an image than the actual stimulus. Given a choice, people will
almost always choose to process an actual picture rather than imagine it. For
instance, players of Tetris prefer to rotate shapes on the screen to find an ap-
propriate orientation rather than rotate them mentally (Kirsh & Maglio, 1994).
■ It is possible to make many of the same kinds of detailed judgments
about mental images that we make about things we actually see,
though it is more difficult.
Visual Imagery and Brain Areas
Brain-imaging studies indicate that the same regions are involved in perception
as in mental imagery. As already noted, the parietal regions that are involved in
attending to locations and objects (see Chapter 3) are also involved in mental ro-
tation. O’Craven and Kanwisher (2000) performed an experiment that further il-
lustrates how closely the brain areas activated by imagery correspond to the brain
areas activated by perception. As discussed in Chapters 2 and 3, the fusiform face
area (FFA) in the temporal cortex responds preferentially to faces, and another
region of the temporal cortex, the parahippocampal place area (PPA), responds
preferentially to pictures of locations. O’Craven and Kanwisher asked participants
either to view faces and scenes or to imagine faces and scenes. The same areas
were active when the participants were seeing as when they were imagining. As
shown in Figure 4.11, every time the participants viewed or imagined a face, there
was increased activation in the FFA, and this activation went away when they
−0.5
0.0
Si
gn
al
c
ha
ng
e
(%
)
Si
gn
al
c
ha
ng
e
(%
)
0.5
1.0
1.5
2.0
−1.0
−0.5
0.0
0.5
1.0
1.5
2.0
2.5
3.0
Perception Imagery ImageryPerception
FFA
PPA
FIGURE 4.11 results from the O’Craven and Kanwisher study showing that visual im-
ages are processed in the same way as actual perceptions and by many of the same
neural structures. Participants alternately perceived (or imagined) faces and places, and
brain activation was correspondingly seen in the fusiform face area (FFA, upper panel) or
the parahippocampal place area (PPA, lower panel). (From O’Craven & Kanwisher, 2000.
Reprinted by permission of the publisher. © 2000 by the Journal of Cognitive neuroscience.)
Anderson_8e_Ch04.indd 87 13/09/14 9:38 AM
88 / Chapter 4 M E n TA l I M A g E r y
processed places. Conversely, when they viewed or imagined scenes, there was
activation in the PPA that went away when they processed faces. The responses
during imagery were very similar to the responses during perception, although a
little weaker. The fact that the response was weaker during imagery is consistent
with the behavioral evidence we have viewed suggesting that it is more difficult to
process an image than a real perception.
There are many studies like these that show that cortical regions involved in
high-level visual processing are activated during the processing of visual imagery.
However, the evidence is less clear about activation in the primary visual cortex
(areas 17 and 18) where visual information first reaches the brain. The O’Craven
and Kanwisher study did find activation in the primary visual cortex during
imagery. Such results are important because they suggest that visual imagery
includes relatively low-level perceptual processes. However, activation has not
always been found in the primary visual cortex. For instance, the Roland and
Friberg study illustrated in Figure 4.1 did not find activation in this region (see
also Roland, Eriksson, Stone-Elander, & Widen, 1987). Kosslyn and Thompson
(2003) reviewed 59 brain-imaging studies that looked for activation in early vis-
ual areas. About half of these studies find activation in early visual areas and half
do not. Their analysis suggests that the studies that find activation in these early
visual areas tend to emphasize high-resolution details of the images and tend to
focus on shape judgments. As an instance of one of the positive studies, Kosslyn
et al. (1993) did find activation in area 17 in a study where participants were
asked to imagine block letters. In one of their experiments, participants were
asked to imagine large versus small letters. In the small-letter condition, activity
in the visual cortex occurred in a more posterior region, closer to where the
center of the visual field is represented. This makes sense because a small image
would be more concentrated at the center of the visual field.
Imaging studies like these show that perceptual regions of the brain are
active when participants engage in mental imagery, but they do not estab-
lish whether these regions are actually critical to imagery. To return to the
epiphenomenon critique at the beginning of the chapter, it could be that the
activation plays no role in the actual tasks being performed. A number of experi-
ments have used transcranial magnetic stimulation (TMS—see Figure 1.13) to
investigate the causal role of these regions in the performance of the underlying
task. For instance, Kosslyn et al. (1999) presented participants with 4-quadrant
arrays like those in Figure 4.12 and asked them to form a mental image of the
array. Then, with the array removed, participants had to use their image to an-
swer questions like “Which has longer stripes: Quadrant 1 or Quadrant 2?” or
“Which has more stripes: Quadrant 1 or Quadrant 4?” Application of TMS to
primary visual area 17 significantly increased the time they took to answer these
questions. Thus, it seems that these visual regions do play a
causal role in mental imagery, and temporarily deactivating
them results in impaired information processing.
■ Brain regions involved in visual perception are
also involved in visual imagery tasks, and disrup-
tion of these regions results in disruption of the
imagery tasks.
Imagery Involves Both Spatial
and Visual Components
There is an important distinction to be made between the
spatial and visual attributes of imagery. We can encode
the position of objects in space by seeing where they are,
1
3
2
4
FIGURE 4.12 Illustration of stim-
uli used in Kosslyn et al. (1999).
The numbers 1, 2, 3, and 4 were
used to label the four quadrants,
each of which contained a set of
stripes. After memorizing the dis-
play, the participants closed their
eyes, visualized the entire display,
heard the names of two quad-
rants, and then heard the name
of a comparison term (for exam-
ple, “length”); the participants
then decided whether the stripes
in the first-named quadrant had
more of the named property
than those in the second.
Anderson_8e_Ch04.indd 88 13/09/14 9:38 AM
V I S U A l I M A g E r y / 89
by feeling where they are, or by hearing where they are. Such encodings use a
common spatial representation that integrates information that comes in from
any sensory modality. On the other hand, certain aspects of visual experience,
such as color, are unique to the visual modality and seem separate from spatial
information. Imagery involves both spatial and visual components. In the dis-
cussion of the visual system in Chapter 2, we reviewed the evidence that there is
a “where” pathway for processing spatial information and a “what” pathway for
processing object information (see Figure 2.1). Corresponding to this distinc-
tion, there is evidence (Mazard, Fuller, Orcutt, Bridle, & Scanlan, 2004) that the
parietal regions support the spatial component of visual imagery, whereas the
temporal lobe supports the visual aspects. We have already noted that mental
rotation, a spatial task, tends to produce activation in the parietal cortex. Simi-
larly, temporal structures are activated when people imagine visual properties
of objects (Thompson & Kosslyn, 2000).
Studies of patients with brain damage also support this association of spatial
imagery with parietal areas of the brain and visual imagery with temporal ar-
eas. Levine, Warach, and Farah (1985) compared two patients, one who suffered
bilateral parietal-occipital damage and the other who suffered bilateral inferior
temporal damage. The patient with parietal damage could not describe the loca-
tions of familiar objects or landmarks from memory, but he could describe the
appearance of objects. The patient with temporal damage had an impaired abil-
ity to describe the appearance of objects but could describe their locations.
Farah, Hammond, Levine, and Calvanio (1988) carried out more detailed
testing of the patient with temporal damage, comparing his performance on
a wide variety of imagery tasks to that of normal participants. They found
that he showed deficits in only a subset of these tasks: ones in which he had to
judge color (“What is the color of a football?”), sizes (“Which is bigger, a pop-
sicle or a pack of cigarettes?”), the lengths of animals’ tails (“Does a kangaroo
have a long tail?”), and whether two U.S. states had similar shapes. In contrast,
he did not show any deficit in performing tasks that seemed to involve a sub-
stantial amount of spatial processing: mental rotation, image scanning, letter
scanning (as in Figure 4.7), or judgments of where one U.S. state was relative to
another state. Thus, temporal damage seems to affect only those imagery tasks
that required access to visual detail, not those that required spatial judgments.
■ Neuropsychological evidence suggests that imagery of spatial
information is supported by parietal structures, and that imagery
of objects and their visual properties is supported by temporal
structures.
Cognitive Maps
Another important function of visual imagery is to help us understand and re-
member the spatial structure of our environment. Our imaginal representations
of the world are often referred to as cognitive maps. The connection between
imagery and action is particularly apparent in cognitive maps. We often find
ourselves imagining our environment as we plan how we will get from one loca-
tion to another.
An important distinction can be made between route maps and survey
maps (Hart & Moore, 1973). A route map is a path that indicates specific places
but contains no spatial information. It can even be a verbal description of a path
(“Straight until the light, then turn left, two blocks later at the intersection . . .”).
Thus, with a pure route map, if your route from location 1 to location 2 were
blocked, you would have no general idea of where location 2 was, and so you
would be unable to construct a detour. Also, if you knew (in the sense of a route
Anderson_8e_Ch04.indd 89 13/09/14 9:38 AM
90 / Chapter 4 M E n TA l I M A g E r y
map) two routes from a location, you would have no idea whether these routes
formed a 90° angle or a 120° angle with respect to each other. A survey map, in
contrast, contains this information, and is basically a spatial image of the en-
vironment. When you ask for directions from typical online mapping services,
they will provide both a route map and a survey map to support both mental
representations of space.
Thorndyke and Hayes-Roth (1982) investigated workers’ knowledge of the
Rand Corporation Building (Figure 4.13), a large, mazelike building in Santa
Monica, California. People in the Rand Building quickly acquire the ability to
find their way from one specific place in the building to another—for example,
from the supply room to the cashier. This knowledge represents a route map.
Typically, though, workers had to have years of experience in the building
before they could make such survey-map determinations as the direction of the
snack bar from the administrative conference room (due south).
Hartley, Maguire, Spiers, and Burgess (2003) used fMRI to look at differ-
ences in brain activity when people used these two representations. They had
participants navigate virtual reality towns under one of two conditions: route-
following (involving a route map) or way-finding (involving a survey map).
In the route-following condition, participants learned to follow a fixed path
through the town, whereas in the way-finding condition, participants first
freely explored the town and then had to find their way between locations.
The results on the experiment are illustrated in Color Plate 4.1. In the way-
finding task, participants showed greater activation in a number of regions
found in other studies of visual imagery, including the parietal cortex. There
was also greater activation in the hippocampus (see Figure 1.7), a region that
has been implicated in navigation in many species. In contrast, in the route-
following task participants showed greater activation in more anterior regions
and motor regions. It would seem that the survey map is more like a visual
Cognitive Mapping
Northwest
lobby
Computer center
Administrative
conference
room
East lobby
Cashier
Snack bar
Common
room
South
lobby
First-floor building plan
The Rand Corporation
Supply
room
Feet
500 100
N
S
EW
FIGURE 4.13 The floor plan for part of the rand Corporation Building in Santa Monica,
California. Thorndyke and Hayes-roth studied the ability of secretaries to find their way
around the building. (From Thorndyke & Hayes-Roth, 1982. Reprinted by permission of the
publisher. © 1982 by Cognitive Psychology.)
Anderson_8e_Ch04.indd 90 13/09/14 9:38 AM
V I S U A l I M A g E r y / 91
image and the route map is more like an action plan. This is a distinction that
is supported in other fMRI studies of route maps versus survey maps (e.g.,
Shelton & Gabrieli, 2002).
Landmarks serve as an important part of survey maps and enable flexible
action. Using a virtual environment navigation system, Foo, Warren, Duchon,
and Tarr (2005) performed an experiment that used the presence of landmarks
to promote creation of different types of mental maps. In the “desert” condition
(see Figure 4.14a) there were no landmarks and participants practiced navigat-
ing from a home position to two target locations. In the “forest” condition (see
Figure 4.14b) there were “trees” and participants practiced navigating from the
same home position to the same two target locations. Then they were asked
to navigate from one of the target locations to the other, having never done so
before. They were very poor at finding the novel path in the “desert” condition
because they had not practiced that path. They were much better in the “forest”
condition, where colored posts could serve as landmarks.
■ Our knowledge of our environment can be represented in either
survey maps that emphasize spatial information or route maps that
emphasize action information.
Egocentric and Allocentric Representations of Space
Navigation becomes difficult when we must tie together multiple different
representations of space. In particular, we often need to relate the way space
appears as we perceive it to some other representation of space, such as a cog-
nitive map. The representation of “space as we perceive it” is referred to as an
egocentric representation. Figure 4.15 illustrates an egocentric representation
that one might have when looking through the cherry blossoms at the Tidal Ba-
sin in Washington, D.C. Even young children have little difficulty understanding
how to navigate in space as they see it—if they see an object they want, they go
for it. Problems arise when one wants to relate what one sees to such representa-
tions of the space as cognitive maps, be they route maps or survey maps. Similar
problems arise when one wants to deal with physical maps, such as the map of
FIGURE 4.14 Displays used in the virtual reality study of Foo et al. (2005). The desert
world (a) consisted of a textured ground plane only, whereas the forest world (b) in-
cluded many colored posts scattered randomly throughout. The colored posts served as
potential landmarks. (Foo, Warren, Duchon, & Tarr, 2005. © American Psychological Associa-
tion, reprinted with permission.)
(a) (b)
Anderson_8e_Ch04.indd 91 13/09/14 9:38 AM
92 / Chapter 4 M E n TA l I M A g E r y
the park area in Figure 4.16. This kind of map is referred to as an allocentric
representation because it is not specific to a particular viewpoint, though, as
is true of most maps, north is oriented to the top of the image. Using the map
in Figure 4.16, assuming the perspective of the stick figure, try to identify the
building in Figure 4.15. When people try to make such judgments, the degree to
which the map is rotated from their actual viewpoint has a large effect. Indeed,
people will often rotate a physical map so that it is oriented to correspond to
their point of view. The map in Figure 4.16 would have to be rotated almost 180
degrees to be oriented with the representation shown in Figure 4.15.
When it is not possible to rotate a map physically, people show an effect
of the degree of misorientation that is much like the effect we see for mental
rotation (e.g., Boer, 1991; Easton & Sholl, 1995; Gugerty, deBoom, Jenkins, &
FIGURE 4.15 An egocentric view from the Tidal Basin. (Stock/360/Getty Images.)
FIGURE 4.16 An allocentric representation of Washington’s national Mall and Memorial
Parks. (National Park Service.)
Anderson_8e_Ch04.indd 92 13/09/14 9:39 AM
V I S U A l I M A g E r y / 93
Morley, 2000; Hintzman, O’Dell, & Arndt,
1981). Figure 4.17 shows results from a study
by Gunzelmann and Anderson (2002), who
looked at the time required to find an object
on a standard map (i.e., north oriented to the
top) as a function of the viewer’s location.
When the viewer is located to the south,
looking north, it is easier to find the object
than when the viewer is north looking south,
just the opposite of the map orientation. Some
people describe imagining themselves moving
around the map, others talk about rotating
what they see, and still others report using
verbal descriptions (“across the water”). The
fact that the angle of disparity in this task has
as great an effect as it does in mental rotation has led many researchers to believe
that the processes and representations involved in such navigational tasks are
similar to the processes and representations involved in mental imagery.
Physical maps seem to differ from cognitive maps in one important way:
Physical maps show the effects of orientation, and cognitive maps do not. For
example, imagine yourself standing against various walls of your bedroom, and
point to the location of the front door of your home or apartment. Most people
can do this equally well no matter which position they take. In contrast, when
given a map like the one in Figure 4.16, people find it much easier to point to
various objects on the map if they are oriented in the same way the map is.
Recordings from single cells in the hippocampal region (inside the tempo-
ral lobe) of rats suggest that the hippocampus plays an important role in main-
taining an allocentric representation of the world. There are place cells in the
hippocampus that fire maximally when the animal is in a particular location in
its environment (O’Keefe & Dostrovsky, 1971). Similar cells have been found in
recordings from human patients during a procedure to map out the brain before
surgery to control epilepsy (Ekstrom et al., 2003). Brain-imaging studies have
shown high hippocampal activation when humans are navigating their environ-
ment (Maguire et al., 1998). Another study (Maguire et al., 2000) showed that
the hippocampal volume of London taxi drivers was greater than that of people
who didn’t drive taxis. The longer they had been taxi drivers, the greater the vol-
ume of their hippocampus. It took about 3 years of hard training to gain enough
knowledge of London streets to be a successful taxi driver, and this training had
an impact on the structure of the brain. The amount of activation in hippocam-
pal structures has also been shown to correlate with age-related differences in
navigation skills (Pine et al., 2002) and may relate to gender differences in navi-
gational ability (Gron, Wunderlich, Spitzer, Tomczak, & Riepe, 2000).
Whereas the hippocampus appears to be important in supporting al-
locentric representations, the parietal cortex seems particularly important
in supporting egocentric representations (Burgess, 2006). In one fMRI study
comparing egocentric and allocentric spatial processing (Zaehle et al., 2007),
participants were asked to make judgments that emphasized either an allo-
centric or an egocentric perspective. In the allocentric conditions, partici-
pants would read a description like “The blue triangle is to the left of the green
square. The green square is above the yellow triangle. The yellow triangle is
to the right of the red circle.” Then they would be asked a question like “Is the
blue triangle above the red circle?” In the egocentric condition, they would
read a description like “The blue circle is in front of you. The yellow circle is
to your right. The yellow square is to the right of the yellow circle.” They would
then be asked a question like “Is the yellow square to your right?” There was
SE SENENNWSW WS
0.0
0.5
1.5
1.0
2.0
2.5
3.0
3.5
Ti
m
e
to
fi
nd
o
bj
ec
t o
n
m
ap
(s
)
Direction in which viewer is looking
FIGURE 4.17 results from
gunzelmann and Anderson’s
study to determine how much
effect the angle of disparity
between a standard map (looking
north) and the viewer’s view-
point has on people’s ability to
find an object on the map. The
time required for participants to
identify the object is plotted as
a function of the difference in
orientation between the map and
the egocentric viewpoint. (Data
from Gunzelmann & Anderson,
2002.)
Anderson_8e_Ch04.indd 93 13/09/14 9:39 AM
94 / Chapter 4 M E n TA l I M A g E r y
greater hippocampal activation when participants were answering questions in
the allocentric condition than in the egocentric condition. Although there was
considerable parietal activation in both conditions, it was greater in the ego-
centric condition.
■ Our representation of space includes both allocentric representa-
tions of where objects are in the world and egocentric representations
of where they are relative to ourselves.
Map Distortions
Our mental maps often have a hierarchical structure in which smaller regions
are organized within larger regions. For instance, the structure of my bedroom
is organized within the structure of my house, which is organized within the
structure of my neighborhood, which is organized within the structure of Pitts-
burgh. Consider your mental map of the United States. It is probably divided
into regions, and these regions into states, and cities are presumably pinpointed
within the states. It turns out that certain systematic distortions arise because
of the hierarchical structure of these mental maps. Stevens and Coupe (1978)
documented a set of common misconceptions about North American geography.
Consider the following questions taken from their research:
● Which is farther east: San Diego or Reno?
● Which is farther north: Seattle or Montreal?
● Which is farther west: the Atlantic or the Pacific entrance to the Panama
Canal?
The first choice is the correct answer in each case, but most people hold the
opposite opinion. Reno seems to be farther east because Nevada is east of Cali-
fornia, but this reasoning does not account for the westward curve in Califor-
nia’s coastline. Montreal seems to be north of Seattle because Canada is north of
the United States, but the border dips south in the east. And the Atlantic is cer-
tainly east of the Pacific—but consult a map if you need to be convinced about
the location of the entrances to the Panama Canal. The geography of North
America is quite complex, and people resort to abstract facts about relative
locations of large physical bodies (e.g., California and Nevada) to make judg-
ments about smaller locations (e.g., San Diego and Reno).
Stevens and Coupe were able to demonstrate such confusions with
experimenter-created maps. Different groups of participants learned the maps
illustrated in Figure 4.18. The important feature of the incongruent maps is
that the relative locations of the Alpha and Beta counties are inconsistent with
the locations of the X and Y cities. After learning the maps, participants were
asked a series of questions about the locations of cities, including “Is X east or
west of Y?” for the left-hand maps and “Is X north or south of Y?” for the right-
hand maps. Participants made errors on 18% of the questions for the congruent
maps, 15% for the homogeneous maps, but 45% for the incongruent maps.
Participants were using information about the locations of the counties to help
them remember the city locations. This reliance on higher order information
led them to make errors, just as similar reasoning can lead to errors in
answering questions about North American geography.
■ When people have to work out the relative positions of two loca-
tions, they will often reason in terms of the relative positions of larger
areas that contain the two locations.
Anderson_8e_Ch04.indd 94 13/09/14 9:39 AM
C O n C l U S I O n S : V I S U A l P E r C E P T I O n A n D V I S U A l I M A g E r y / 95
Dimension tested
Alpha
County
Beta
County
Congruent
Horizontal
X
Y
Z
Vertical
Alpha
County
Beta
County
X
Y
Z
X
Y
Z
X
Y
Z
X Y
Z
X
Y
Z
Alpha
County
Beta
County
Alpha
County
Beta
County
Homogeneous
Incongruent
W
S
E
N
W
S
E
N
W
S
E
N
W
S
E
N
W
S
E
N
W
S
E
N
◆ Conclusions: Visual Perception and
Visual Imagery
This chapter has reviewed some of the evidence that the same brain regions
that are involved in visual perception are also involved in visual imagery. Such
research has presumably put to rest the question raised at the beginning of the
chapter about whether visual imagery really had a perceptual character. How-
ever, although it seems clear that perceptual processes are involved in visual
imagery to some degree, it remains an open question to what degree the mech-
anisms of visual imagery are the same as the mechanisms of visual perception.
FIGURE 4.18 Maps studied by participants in the experiments of Stevens and Coupe,
which demonstrated the effects of higher order information (location of county lines) on
participants’ recall of city locations. (Data from Stevens & Coupe, 1978.)
Anderson_8e_Ch04.indd 95 13/09/14 9:39 AM
96 / Chapter 4 M E n TA l I M A g E r y
Evidence for a substantial overlap comes from neuropsychological patient stud-
ies (see Bartolomeo, 2002, for a review). Many patients who have cortical damage
leading to blindness have corresponding deficits in visual imagery. As Behrmann
(2000) notes, the correspondences between perception and imagery can be quite
striking. For instance, there are patients who are not able to perceive or image
faces and colors, but are otherwise unimpaired in either perception or imagery.
Nonetheless, there exist cases of patients who suffer perceptual problems but have
intact visual imagery and vice versa. Behrmann argues that visual perception and
visual imagery are best understood as two processes that overlap but are not iden-
tical, as illustrated in Figure 4.19. Perceiving a kangaroo requires low-level visual
information processing that is not required for visual imagery. Similarly, forming
a mental image of a kangaroo requires generation processes that are not required
by perception. Behrmann suggests that patients who suffer only perceptual losses
have damage to the low-level part of this system, and patients who suffer only im-
agery losses have damage to the high-level part of this system.
High-level
generation
ImageryPerception
Low-level
visual analysis
Intermediate
visual processing
FIGURE 4.19 A represen-
tation of the overlap in
the processing involved in
visual perception and visual
imagery.
Questions for Thought
1. It has been hypothesized that our perceptual sys-
tem regularly uses mental rotation to recognize
objects in nonstandard orientations. In Chapter 2
we contrasted template and feature models for ob-
ject recognition. Would mental rotation be more
important to a template model or a feature model?
2. Consider the following problem:
Imagine a wire-frame cube resting on a tabletop
with the front face directly in front of you and per-
pendicular to your line of sight. Imagine the long
diagonal that goes from the bottom, front, left-
hand corner to the top, back, right-hand one. Now
imagine that the cube is reoriented so that this
diagonal is vertical and the cube is resting on one
corner. Place one fingertip about a foot above the
tabletop and let this mark the position of the top
corner on the diagonal. The corner on which the
cube is resting is on the tabletop, vertically below
your fingertip. With your other hand, point to the
spatial locations of the other corners of the cube.
Hinton (1979) reports that almost no one is able
to perform this task successfully. In light of the
successes we have reviewed for mental imagery,
why is this task so hard?
3. The chapter reviewed the evidence that many
different regions are activated in mental imagery
tasks—parietal and motor areas in mental rota-
tion, temporal regions in judgments of object
attributes, and hippocampal regions in reasoning
about navigation. Why would mental imagery in-
volve so many regions?
4. Consider the map distortions such as the tendency
to believe San Diego is west of Reno. Are these
distortions in an egocentric representation, an al-
locentric representation, or something else?
5. The studies of the increased size of the hippocam-
pus of London taxi drivers were conducted before
the widespread introduction of GPS systems in
cars. Would the results be different for taxi drivers
who made extensive use of GPS systems?
Key Terms
allocentric representation
cognitive maps
egocentric representation
epiphenomenon
fusiform face area (FFA)
mental imagery
mental rotation
parahippocampal place
area (PPA)
route maps
survey maps
Anderson_8e_Ch04.indd 96 13/09/14 9:39 AM
97
Recall a wedding you attended a while ago. Presumably, you can remember who
married whom, where the wedding was, many of the people who attended,
and some of the things that happened. You would probably be hard pressed, how-
ever, to say exactly what all the participants wore, the exact words that were spo-
ken, or the way the bride walked down the aisle, although you probably registered
many of these details. It is not surprising that our memories lose information over
time, but what is interesting is that our loss of information is selective: We tend
to forget the less significant and remember the more significant aspects of what
happened.
The previous chapter was about our ability to form detailed visual images. It
might seem that it would be ideal if we had the capacity to remember such detail.
Parker, Cahill, and McGaugh (2006) describe a case of an individual with highly
detailed memory.1 She is able to remember many details from years ago in her
life but had difficulty in school and seems to perform poorly on tasks of abstract
reasoning such as processing analogies. A more recent study of 11 such individuals
(LePort et al., 2012) finds that although they can remember an enormous amount
of detail from their personal lives, they are no better than average on many
standard laboratory memory tasks. They probably would not do better than others
in remembering the information from a text like this. It seems like their memories
are bogged down in remembering insignificant details, without any special ability to
remember critical information.
In many situations, we need to rise above the details of our experience and get
to their true meaning and significance. Understanding how we do this is the focus of
this chapter, where we will address the following questions:
● How do we represent the significant aspects of our experience?
● Do we represent knowledge in ways that are not tied to specific perceptual
modalities?
● How do we represent categorical knowledge, and how does this affect the way
we perceive the world?
◆ Knowledge and Regions of the Brain
Figure 5.1 shows some of the brain regions involved in the abstraction of
knowledge. Some prefrontal regions are associated with extracting mean-
ingful information from pictures and sentences. The left prefrontal region is
5
Representation of
Knowledge
1 She has written her own biography, The Woman Who Can’t Forget (Price, 2008).
Anderson_8e_Ch05.indd 97 13/09/14 9:40 AM
98 / Chapter 5 R e P R e S e n TAT I o n o f K n o W L e D G e
more involved in the processing of verbal material and
the right prefrontal region is more involved in the pro-
cessing of visual material (Gabrieli, 2001). There is also
strong evidence that categorical information is repre-
sented in posterior regions, particularly the temporal
cortex (Visser, Jeffries, & Ralph, 2010). When this infor-
mation is presented verbally, there is also fairly consistent
evidence for greater activation throughout the left hemi-
sphere (e.g., Binder, Desai, Graves, & Conant, 2009).
At points in this chapter, we will review neurosci-
ence data on the localization of semantic information
in the brain, but our focus will be on the striking results
from behavioral studies that examine what people re-
member or forget after an event.
■ Prefrontal regions of the brain are associated with meaningful pro-
cessing of events, whereas posterior regions, such as the temporal cor-
tex, are associated with representing categorical information.
◆ Memory for Meaningful Interpretations
of Events
Memory for Verbal Information
A dissertation study by Eric Wanner (1968) illustrates circumstances in which
people do and do not remember information about exact wording. Wanner asked
participants to come into the laboratory and listen to tape-recorded instructions.
For one group of participants, the warned group, the tape began this way:
The materials for this test, including the instructions, have been
recorded on tape. Listen very carefully to the instructions because you
will be tested on your ability to recall particular sentences which occur
in the instructions.
The participants in the second group received no such warning and so had no
idea that they would be responsible for the verbatim instructions. After this
point, the instructions were the same for both groups. At a later point in the
instructions, one of four possible critical sentences was presented:
1. When you score your results, do nothing to correct your answers but mark
carefully those answers which are wrong.
2. When you score your results, do nothing to correct your answers but care-
fully mark those answers which are wrong.
3. When you score your results, do nothing to your correct answers but mark
carefully those answers which are wrong.
4. When you score your results, do nothing to your correct answers but
carefully mark those answers which are wrong.
Note that some sentences differ in style but not in meaning (sentences 1 and 2,
and 3 and 4), whereas other sentences differ in meaning but not in style (sen-
tences 1 and 3, and 2 and 4), and that each of these pairs differ only in the or-
dering of two words. Immediately after one of these sentences was presented, all
participants (warned or not) heard the following conclusion to the instructions:
To begin the test, please turn to page 2 of the answer booklet and judge
which of the sentences printed there occurred in the instructions you
just heard.
Prefrontal regions
that process pictures
and sentences
Posterior regions
that represent
concepts
Brain Structures
FIGURE 5.1 Cortical regions
involved in the processing of
meaning and the representation
of concepts.
Anderson_8e_Ch05.indd 98 13/09/14 9:40 AM
M e M o R Y f o R M e A n I n G f U L I n T e R P R e TAT I o n S o f e v e n T S / 99
On page 2, they found two sentences: the critical sentence
they had just heard and a sentence that differed just in
style or just in meaning. For example, if they had heard
sentence 1, they might have to choose between sentences
1 and 2 (different in style but not in meaning) or between
sentences 1 and 3 (different in meaning but not in style).
Thus, by looking at participants’ ability to discriminate
between different pairs of sentences, Wanner was able to
measure their ability to remember the meaning versus the
style of the sentence and to determine how this ability was
affected by whether or not they were warned.
The relevant data are presented in Figure 5.2. The
percentage of correct identifications of sentences heard is displayed as a func-
tion of whether participants had been warned. The percentages are plotted
separately for participants who were asked to discriminate a meaningful differ-
ence in wording and for those who were asked to discriminate a stylistic differ-
ence. If participants were just guessing, they would have scored 50% correct by
chance; thus, we would not expect any values below 50%.
The implications of Wanner’s experiment are clear. First, memory is
better for changes in wording that result in changes of meaning than for
changes in wording that result just in changes of style. The superiority of
memory for meaning indicates that people normally extract the meaning
from a linguistic message and do not remember its exact wording. Moreover,
memory for meaning is equally good whether people are warned or not.
(The slight advantage for unwarned participants does not approach statistical
significance.) Thus, participants retained the meaning of a message as a
normal part of their comprehension process. They did not have to be cued to
remember the sentence.
The second implication of these results is that people are capable of
remembering exact wording if that is their goal—the warning did have an effect
on memory for the stylistic change. The unwarned participants remembered
the stylistic change at about the level of chance, whereas the warned partici-
pants remembered it almost 80% of the time. Thus, although we do not nor-
mally retain much information about exact wording, we can do so when we are
cued to pay attention to such information.
■ After processing a linguistic message, people usually remember just
its meaning and not its exact wording.
Memory for Visual Information
Our memory for visual information often seems much better than our memory
for verbal information. Shepard (1967) performed one of the early experi-
ments comparing memory for pictures with memory for verbal material. In the
picture-memory task, participants first studied a set of magazine pictures one at
a time, then were presented with pairs of pictures consisting of one picture they
had studied and one they had not, and then had to indicate which picture had
been studied. In the sentence-memory task, participants studied sentences one
at a time and were similarly tested on their ability to recognize those sentences.
Participants made errors on the verbal task 11.8% of the time but only 1.5%
of the time on the visual task. In other words, memory for verbal information
was quite good, but memory for visual information was virtually perfect. Many
subsequent experiments have demonstrated our high capacity for remembering
pictures. For example, Brady, Konkle, Alvarez, and Oliva (2008) had partici-
pants first study a set of 2,500 pictures and then identify individual pictures
Memory for meaning
Memory for style
WarnedUnwarned
Co
rre
ct
(%
)
50
60
70
80
90
100
FIGURE 5.2 Results from
Wanner’s experiment to deter-
mine circumstances in which
people do and do not remember
information about exact wording.
The ability of participants to
remember a wording difference
that affected meaning versus one
that affected only style is plotted
as a function of whether or not
the participants were warned
that they would be tested on
their ability to recall particular
sentences. (Data from Wanner,
1968.)
Anderson_8e_Ch05.indd 99 13/09/14 9:40 AM
100 / Chapter 5 R e P R e S e n TAT I o n o f K n o W L e D G e
from the set when paired with a similar alternative (Color Plate 5.1 shows some
of these pairs). Participants were able to achieve almost 87.5% accuracy in mak-
ing such discriminations.
However, people do not always show such good memory for pictures—it
depends on the circumstances. Nickerson and Adams (1979) performed a clas-
sic study showing lack of memory for visual detail. They asked American stu-
dents to indicate which of the pictures in Figure 5.3 was the actual U.S. penny.
Despite having seen this object literally thousands of times, they were not able
to identify the actual penny. What is the difference between studies showing
good memory for visual detail and a study like this one, showing poor memory
for visual detail? It seems that the answer is that the details of the penny are not
something people attend to. In the experiments showing good visual memory,
the participants are told to attend to the details. The role of attention was con-
firmed in a study by Marmie and Healy (2004) following up on the Nickerson
and Adams study. Participants examined a novel coin for a minute and then,
a week later, were asked to remember the details. In this study, participants
achieved much higher accuracy than in the penny study.
How do people actually deploy their attention when studying a complex
visual scene? Typically, people attend to, and remember, what they consider to
be the meaningful or important aspects of the scene. This is illustrated in an
experiment by Mandler and Ritchey (1977) in which participants studied pic-
tures of scenes like the classroom scenes in Figure 5.4. After studying eight such
pictures for 10 s each, participants were presented with a series of pictures and
asked to identify the pictures they had studied. The series included the exact
pictures they had studied (target pictures) as well as distracter pictures, which
included token distracters and type distracters. A token distracter differed from
the target only in a relatively unimportant visual detail (e.g., the pattern of the
teacher’s clothes in Figure 5.4b is an unimportant detail). In contrast, a type
FIGURE 5.3 examples of the pennies used in the experiment by nickerson and Adams
(1979)—which is the real penny? (From Nickerson, R. S., & Adams, M. J. (1979). Long-term
memory for a common object. Cognitive Psychology, 11(3), 287–307. Copyright © 1979
Elsevier. Reprinted by permission.)
Anderson_8e_Ch05.indd 100 13/09/14 9:40 AM
M e M o R Y f o R M e A n I n G f U L I n T e R P R e TAT I o n S o f e v e n T S / 101
distracter differed from the target in a relatively important visual detail (e.g.,
the art picture in Figure 5.4c—instead of the world map in the target—is an im-
portant detail because it indicates the subject being taught). Participants rec-
ognized the original pictures 77% percent of the time and rejected the token
distracters only 60% of the time, but they rejected the type distracters 94% of
the time.
The conclusion in this study is very similar to that in the Wanner (1968) ex-
periment reviewed earlier. Wanner found that participants were much more sen-
sitive to meaning-significant changes in a sentence; Mandler and Ritchey (1977)
found that participants were more sensitive to meaning-significant changes in
a picture and not for details in the picture. This is not because they are inca-
pable of remembering such detail, but rather because this detail does not seem
important and so is not attended. Had participants been told that the picture il-
lustrated the style of the teacher’s clothing, the result would probably have been
quite different.
■ When people see a picture, they attend to and remember best those
aspects that they consider meaningful.
Importance of Meaning to Memory
So far we have considered memory for meaningful verbal and pictorial material.
However, what if the material is not meaningful, such as a hard-to-follow
(a)
(b) (c)
FIGURE 5.4 Pictures similar to those used by Mandler and Ritchey in their experiment
to demonstrate that people distinguish between the meaning of a picture and the physi-
cal picture itself. Participants studied the target picture (a). Later they were tested with a
series of pictures that included the target (a) along with token distracters such as (b) and
type distracters such as (c). (After Mandler & Ritchey, 1977. Adapted by permission of the
publisher. © 1977 by the American Psychological Association.)
Anderson_8e_Ch05.indd 101 13/09/14 9:40 AM
102 / Chapter 5 R e P R e S e n TAT I o n o f K n o W L e D G e
written description? Consider the following passage that was used in a study by
Bransford and Johnson (1972):
The procedure is actually quite simple. First you arrange items into
different groups. Of course, one pile may be sufficient depending
on how much there is to do. If you have to go somewhere else due
to lack of facilities that is the next step, otherwise you are pretty well
set. It is important not to overdo things. That is, it is better to do
too few things at once than too many. In the short run this may not
seem important but complications can easily arise. A mistake can be
expensive as well. At first the whole procedure will seem complicated.
Soon, however, it will become just another facet of life. It is difficult
to foresee any end to the necessity for this task in the immediate fu-
ture, but then one never can tell. After the procedure is completed
one arranges the materials into different groups again. Then they
can be put into their appropriate places. Eventually they will be
used once more and the whole cycle will then have to be repeated.
However, that is part of life. (p. 722)
Presumably, you find this description hard to make sense of; the
participants did, too, and showed poor recall on the passage. How-
ever, another group of participants were told before reading this
passage that it was about washing clothes. With that one piece of
information, which made the passage much more sensible, they
were able to recall twice as much as the uninformed group.
Similar effects are found in memory for pictorial material. One
study (Goldstein & Chance, 1970) compared memory for faces versus
memory for snowflakes. Individual snowflakes are highly distinct from
one another and more visually different than faces (see Figure 5.5).
However, participants do not know what sense to make of snowflakes,
whereas they are often capable of interpreting subtle differences in
faces. In a test 48 hours later, participants were able to recognize 74%
of the faces and only 30% of the snowflakes. In another study, provoca-
tively titled “Sometimes a Picture Is Not Worth a Single Word,” Oates
and Reder (2010) compared recognition memory for words with rec-
ognition memory for abstract pictures like those in Figure 5.6. They
found that recognition memory for these pictures was quite poor—
only half as good as their memory for words.
Bower, Karlin, and Dueck (1975) reported an amusing demonstra-
tion of the fact that people’s good memory for pictures is tied to their
FIGURE 5.5 examples of the snowflakes that Goldstein and Chance (1970) used in their
memory experiment. (Herbert/Stringer/Archive Photos/Getty Images)
FIGURE 5.6 examples of the
abstract pictures that participants
had a hard time remembering
in the experiment by oates and
Reder. (From Oates & Reder, 2010.
Copyright © 2010. Reprinted by
permission of Lynne Reder.)
Anderson_8e_Ch05.indd 102 13/09/14 9:40 AM
M e M o R Y f o R M e A n I n G f U L I n T e R P R e TAT I o n S o f e v e n T S / 103
ability to make sense of those pictures. Figure 5.7
illustrates some of the drawings they used, called
droodles. Participants studied the drawings, with
or without an explanation of their meaning, and
then were given a memory test in which they had
to redraw the pictures. Participants who had been
given an explanation when studying the pictures
showed better recall (70% correctly reconstructed)
than those who were not given an explanation (51%
correctly reconstructed). Thus, memory for the
drawings depended critically on participants’ ability
to give them a meaningful interpretation.
■ Memory is better for material if we are
able to meaningfully interpret that material.
Implications of Good Memory for Meaning
We have seen that people have relatively good memory for meaningful inter-
pretations of information. So when faced with material to remember, it will
help if they can give it some meaningful interpretation. Unfortunately, many
people are unaware of this fact, and their memory performance suffers as a
consequence. I can still remember the traumatic experience I had in my first
paired-associates experiment. It happened in a sophomore class in experi-
mental psychology. For reasons I have long since forgotten, we had designed
a class experiment that involved learning 16 pairs, such as DAX-GIB. Our
task was to recall the second half of each pair when prompted with the first
half and I was determined to outperform the other members of my class.
My personal theory of memory at that time, which I intended to apply, was
that if you try hard and focus intensely, you can remember anything well. In
the impending experimental situation, this meant that during the learning
period I should say (as loud as was seemly) the paired associates over and
over again, as fast as I could. I believed that this method would burn the
paired associates into my mind forever. To my chagrin, I wound up with the
worst score in the class.
My theory of “loud and fast” was directly opposed to the true means of im-
proving memory. I was trying to memorize a meaningless verbal pair. But the
material discussed in this chapter so far suggests that we have the best memory
for meaningful information. I should have been trying to convert my memory
task into something more meaningful. For instance, DAX is like dad and GIB
is the first part of gibberish. So I might have created an image of my father
speaking some gibberish to me. This would have been a simple mnemonic
(memory-assisting) technique and would have worked quite well as a means of
associating the two elements.
We do not often need to learn pairs of nonsense syllables outside the
laboratory. In many situations, however, we do have to associate various com-
binations that do not have much inherent meaning. We have to remember
shopping lists, names for faces, telephone numbers, rote facts in a college class,
vocabulary items in a foreign language, and so on. In all cases, we can im-
prove memory if we associate the items to be remembered with a meaningful
interpretation.
■ It is easier to commit arbitrary associations to memory if they are
converted into something more meaningful.
(a) (b)
FIGURE 5.7 Recalling “droodles.”
(a) A midget playing a trombone
in a telephone booth. (b) An early
bird that caught a very strong
worm. (From Bower, G. H., Karlin,
M. B., & Dueck, A. (1975). Compre-
hension and memory for pictures.
Memory & Cognition, 3, 216–220.
Copyright © 1975 Springer. With
kind permission from Springer
Science and Business Media.)
Anderson_8e_Ch05.indd 103 13/09/14 9:40 AM
104 / Chapter 5 R e P R e S e n TAT I o n o f K n o W L e D G e
◆ Propositional Representations
We have shown that in many situations people do not remember exact physical
details of what they have seen or heard but rather the “meaning” of what they
have encountered. In an attempt to become more precise about what is meant
by “meaning,” cognitive psychologists developed what is called a propositional
representation. The concept of a proposition, borrowed from logic and lin-
guistics, is central to such analyses. A proposition is the smallest unit of knowl-
edge that can stand as a separate assertion—that is, the smallest unit one can
meaningfully judge as true or false. Propositional analysis applies most clearly
to linguistic information, and I will develop the topic here in terms of such in-
formation.
Consider the following sentence:
Lincoln, who was president of the United States during a bitter war,
freed the slaves.
The information conveyed in this sentence can be communicated by the follow-
ing simpler sentences:
A. Lincoln was president of the United States during a war.
B. The war was bitter.
C. Lincoln freed the slaves.
Mnemonic techniques for
remembering vocabulary items
one domain where we seem to
have to learn arbitrary associations
is foreign language vocabulary. for
instance, consider trying to learn that
the Italian formaggio (pronounced
“for-MAH-jo”) means cheese. There
is a memorization technique, called
the keyword method, for learning
vocabulary items, which some stu-
dents are taught and others discover
on their own. The first step is to
convert the foreign word to some
sound-alike term in one’s native
language. for example, we might
convert formaggio into “for much
dough.” The second step is to create
a meaningful connection between
the sound-alike and the meaning.
for example, we might imagine ex-
pensive cheese being sold for much
money or “for much dough.” or con-
sider the Italian carciofi (pronounced
“car-CHoH-fee”), which means
artichokes. We might transform “car-
CHoH-fee” into “car trophy” and
imagine a winning car at an auto
show with a trophy shaped like an
artichoke. The intermediate sound-
alike term (e.g., “for much dough” or
“car trophy”) is called the keyword,
although in both of these examples
they are really key phrases. There
has been extensive research on
the effectiveness of this technique
(for a review, read Kroll & De Groot,
2005). The research shows that, as
with many things, one needs to take
a nuanced approach in evaluating
the effectiveness of the keyword
technique. There is no doubt that
it results in more rapid vocabulary
learning in many situations, but
there are potential costs. one might
imagine that having to go through
the intermediate keyword slows
down the speed of translation, and
the keyword method has been
shown to result in slower retrieval
times compared to retrieval of items
that are directly associated without
an intermediate. Moreover, going
through an intermediate has been
shown to result in poorer long-term
retention. finally, evidence sug-
gests that although the method
may help in passing an immediate
vocabulary test in a class and hurt
in a delayed test that we have not
studied for, its ultimate impact on
achieving real language mastery is
minimal. Chapter 12 will discuss
issues involved in foreign language
mastery.
I m p l I c a t I o n s
▼
Te
d
Ta
m
bu
ro
/G
et
ty
Im
ag
es
.
▲
Anderson_8e_Ch05.indd 104 13/09/14 9:40 AM
P R o P o S I T I o n A L R e P R e S e n TAT I o n S / 105
If any of these simple sentences were false, the complex sentence also would be
false. These sentences correspond closely to the propositions that underlie the
meaning of the complex sentence. Each simple sentence expresses a primitive
unit of meaning. Like these simple sentences, each separate unit composing our
meaning representations must correspond to a unit of meaning.
However, the theory of propositional representation does not claim that
a person remembers simple sentences like these when encoding the meaning
of a complex sentence. Rather, the claim is that the material is encoded in a
more abstract way. For instance, the propositional representation proposed by
Kintsch (1974) represents each proposition as a list containing a relation fol-
lowed by an ordered list of arguments. The relations organize the arguments
and typically correspond to the verbs (in this case, free), adjectives (bitter), and
other relational terms (president of ). The arguments refer to particular times,
places, people, or objects, and typically correspond to the nouns (Lincoln, war,
slaves). The relations assert connections among the entities these nouns refer
to. Kintsch represents each proposition by a parenthesized list consisting of a
relation plus arguments. As an example, sentences A through C would be rep-
resented by these following structures Kintsch called propositions:
A. (president-of: Lincoln, United States, war)
B. (bitter: war)
C. (free: Lincoln, slaves)
Note that each relation takes a different number of arguments: president of takes
three, free takes two, and bitter takes one. Whether a person heard the original
complex sentence or heard
The slaves were freed by Lincoln, the president of the United States
during a bitter war.
the meaning of the message would be represented by propositions a through c.
Bransford and Franks (1971) provided an interesting demonstration of the
psychological reality of propositional units. In this experiment, participants
studied 12 sentences, including the following:
The ants ate the sweet jelly, which was on the table.
The rock rolled down the mountain and crushed the tiny hut.
The ants in the kitchen ate the jelly.
The rock rolled down the mountain and crushed the hut beside the
woods.
The ants in the kitchen ate the jelly, which was on the table.
The tiny hut was beside the woods.
The jelly was sweet.
The propositional units in each of these sentences come from one of two sets of
four propositions. One set can be represented as
1. (eat: ants, jelly, past)
2. (sweet: jelly)
3. (on: jelly, table, past)
4. (in: ants, kitchen, past)
The other set of four propositions can be represented as
1. (roll down: rock, mountain, past)
2. (crush: rock, hut, past)
3. (beside: hut, woods, past)
4. (tiny: hut)
Anderson_8e_Ch05.indd 105 13/09/14 9:40 AM
106 / Chapter 5 R e P R e S e n TAT I o n o f K n o W L e D G e
Bransford and Franks looked at participants’ recognition memory for the
following three kinds of sentences:
1. Old: The ants in the kitchen ate the jelly.
2. New: The ants ate the sweet jelly.
3. Noncase: The ants ate the jelly beside the woods.
The first sentence was actually studied. The second sentence was not studied
but consists of a combination of propositions that occurred in the studied
sentences—that is, (eat: ants, jelly, past) and (sweet: jelly) from above. The third
sentence consists of words that were studied (beside, jelly, woods, past), but is not
composed from the propositions that were studied—for example, (beside, jelly,
woods) is a new proposition. Bransford and Franks found that participants had
almost no ability to discriminate between the first two kinds of sentences and
were likely to say that they had actually heard either. On the other hand, partici-
pants were quite confident that they had not heard the third, noncase, sentence.
The experiment shows that although people remember the propositions
they encounter, they are quite insensitive to the actual combination of proposi-
tions. Indeed, the participants in this experiment were most likely to say that
they heard a sentence consisting of all four propositions, such as
The ants in the kitchen ate the sweet jelly, which was on the table.
even though they had not in fact studied this sentence.
■ According to propositional analyses people remember a complex
sentence as a set of abstract meaning units that represent the simple
assertions in the sentence.
Amodal Versus Perceptual Symbol Systems
The propositional representations that we have just considered are examples of
what Barsalou (1999) called an amodal symbol system. By this he meant that
the elements within the system are inherently nonperceptual. The original stim-
ulus might be a picture or a sentence, but the representation is abstracted away
from the verbal or visual modality. Given this abstraction, one would predict
that participants in experiments would be unable to remember the exact words
they heard or the exact picture they saw.
As an alternative to such theories, Barsalou proposed a hypothesis that
he called the perceptual symbol system. This hypothesis claims that all
information is represented in terms that are specific to a particular perceptual
modality (visual, auditory, etc.). The perceptual symbol hypothesis is an ex-
tension of Paivio’s (1971, 1986) earlier dual-code theory that claimed that we
represent information in combined verbal and visual codes. Paivio suggested
that when we hear a sentence, we also develop a visual image of what it
describes. If we later remember the visual image and not the sentence, we will
remember what the sentence was about, but not its exact words. Analogously,
when we see a picture, we might describe to ourselves the significant features
of that picture. If we later remember our description and not the picture, we
will not remember details we did not think important to describe (such as the
clothes the teacher was wearing in Figure 5.4).
The dual-code position does not predict that memory for the wording
of a sentence is necessarily poor. The relative memory for the wording versus
memory for the meaning depends on the relative attention that people give to
the verbal versus the visual representation. There are a number of experiments
showing that when participants pay attention to wording, they show better
memory. For instance, Holmes, Waters, and Rajaram (1998), in a replication of
Anderson_8e_Ch05.indd 106 13/09/14 9:40 AM
P R o P o S I T I o n A L R e P R e S e n TAT I o n S / 107
the Bransford and Franks (1971) study that we just reviewed, asked participants
to count the number of letters in the last word of each sentence. This
manipulation, which increased their attention to the wording of the sentence,
resulted in an increased ability to discriminate sentences they had studied from
sentences with similar meanings that they had not—although participants still
showed considerable confusion among similar-meaning sentences.
But how can an abstract concept such as honesty be represented in a purely
perceptual cognitive system? One can be very creative in combining perceptual
representations. Consider a pair of sentences from an old unpublished study of
mine.2 We had participants study one of the following two sentences:
1. The lieutenant wrote his signature on the check.
2. The lieutenant forged a signature on the check.
Later, we asked participants to recognize which sentence they had studied.
They could make such discriminations more successfully than they could dis-
tinguish between pairs such as
1. The lieutenant enraged his superior in the barracks.
2. The lieutenant infuriated a superior in the barracks.
In the first pair of sentences, there is a big difference in meaning; in the second
pair, little difference. However, the difference in wording between the sentences
in the two pairs is equivalent. When I did the study, I thought it showed that
people could remember meaning distinctions that did not have perceptual
differences—the distinction between signing a signature and forging is not
in what the person does but in his or her intentions and the relationship
between those intentions and unseen social contracts. Barsalou (personal
communication, March 12, 2003) suggested that we represent the distinction
between the two sentences by reenacting the history behind each sentence. So
even if the actual act of writing and forging might be the same, the history of
what a person said and did in getting to that point might be different. Barsalou
also considers the internal state of the individual to be relevant. Thus, the
perceptual features involved in forging might include the sensations of tension
that one has when one is in a difficult situation.3
Barsalou, Simmons, Barbey, and Wilson (2003) cited evidence that when
people understand a sentence, they actually come up with a perceptual repre-
sentation of that sentence. For instance, in one study by Stanfield and Zwaan
(2001), participants read a sentence about a nail being pounded into either the
wall or the floor. Then they viewed a picture of a nail oriented either horizon-
tally or vertically and were asked whether the object in the picture was men-
tioned in the sentence that they just read. If they had read a sentence about a
nail being pounded into the wall, they recognized a horizontally oriented nail
more quickly. When they had read a sentence about a nail being pounded
into the floor, they recognized a vertically oriented nail more quickly. In
other words, they responded faster when the orientation implied by the sen-
tence matched the orientation of the picture. Thus, their representation of the
sentence seemed to contain this perceptual detail. As further evidence of the
perceptual representation of meaning, Barsalou et al. cited neuroscience stud-
ies showing that concepts are represented in brain areas similar to those that
process perceptions.
2 It was not published because at the time (1970s) it was considered too obvious a result given studies like
those described earlier in this chapter.
3 Perhaps it is obvious that I do not agree with Barsalou’s perspective. However, it is hard to imagine what
he might consider disconfirming data, because his approach is so flexible.
Anderson_8e_Ch05.indd 107 13/09/14 9:40 AM
108 / Chapter 5 R e P R e S e n TAT I o n o f K n o W L e D G e
■ An alternative to amodal representations of meaning is the view
that meaning is represented as a combination of images in different
perceptual modalities.
◆ Embodied Cognition
Barsalou’s perceptual symbol hypothesis is an instance of the growing emphasis
in psychology on understanding the contribution of the environment and our
bodies to shaping our cognition. As Thelen (2000) describes the viewpoint:
To say that cognition is embodied means that it arises from bodily in-
teractions with the world and is continually meshed with them. From
this point of view, therefore, cognition depends on the kinds of experi-
ences that come from having a body with particular perceptual and
motor capabilities that are inseparably linked and that together form
the matrix within which reasoning, memory, emotion, language and
all other aspects of mental life are embedded. (p. 5)
The embodied cognition perspective emphasizes the contribution of motor
action and how it connects us to the environment. For instance, Glenberg
(2007) argues that our understanding of language often depends on covertly
acting out what the language describes. He points to an fMRI study by Hauk,
Johnsrude, and Pulvermuller (2004), who recorded brain activation while peo-
ple listened to verbs that involved face, arm, or leg actions (e.g., to lick, pick, or
kick). They looked for activity along the motor cortex in separate regions as-
sociated with the face, arm, and leg (see Figure 1.10). Figure 5.8 shows that as
participants listened to each word, there was greater activation in the part of the
motor cortex that would produce that action.
A theory of how meaning is represented in the human mind must explain
how different perceptual and motor modalities connect with one another. For
instance, part of understanding a word such as kick is our ability to relate it to
a picture of a person kicking a ball so that we can describe that picture. As an-
other example, part of our understanding of someone performing an action is
our ability to relate to our own motor system so that we can mimic the action.
Interestingly, mirror neurons have been found in the motor cortex of monkeys;
these are active when the monkeys perform an action like ripping a paper or
see the experimenter rip a paper or hear the experimenter rip the paper without
seeing the action (Rizzolatti & Craighero, 2004). Although one cannot typically
FaceRegion:
M
R
sig
na
l c
ha
ng
e
(a
rb
itr
ar
y
un
its
)
Arm Leg
0.02
0
0.04
0.06
0.08
0.1
Leg words
Face words
Arm words
FIGURE 5.8 Brain activation in
different motor regions as par-
ticipants listen to different types
of verbs.
Anderson_8e_Ch05.indd 108 13/09/14 9:40 AM
C o n C e P T U A L K n o W L e D G e / 109
do single-cell recordings with humans, brain-imaging studies have found
increased activity in the motor region when people observe actions, particularly
with the intention to mimic the action (Iacoboni et al., 1999).
Figure 5.9 illustrates two conceptions of how mappings might take place
between different representations. One possibility is illustrated in the multimodal
hypothesis, which holds that we have various representations tied to different
perceptual and motor systems and that we have means of directly converting one
representation to another. For instance, the double-headed arrow going from
the visual to the motor would be a system for converting a visual representation
into a motor representation and a system for converting the representations
in the opposite direction. The alternative amodal hypothesis is that there is
an intermediate abstract “meaning” system, perhaps involving propositional
representations like those we described earlier. According to this hypothesis, we
have systems for converting any type of perceptual or motor representation into
an abstract representation and for converting any abstract representation into
any type of perceptual or motor representation. So to convert a representation
of a picture into a representation of an action, one first converts the visual
representation into an abstract representation of its significance and then converts
that representation into a motor representation. These two approaches offer
alternative explanations for the research we reviewed earlier that indicated people
remember the meaning of what they experience, but not the details. The amodal
hypothesis holds that this information is retained in the central meaning system.
The multimodal hypothesis holds that the person has converted the information
from the modality of the presentation to some other modality.
■ The embodied cognition perspective emphasizes that meaning is
represented in the perceptual and motor systems that we use to inter-
act with the world.
◆ Conceptual Knowledge
When we look at the picture in Figure 5.4a, we do not see it as just a collection
of specific objects. Rather, we see it as a picture of a teacher instructing a stu-
dent on geography. That is, we see the world in terms of categories like teacher,
student, instruction, and geography. As we saw, people tend to remember this
categorical information and not the specific details. For instance, the partici-
pants in the Mandler and Ritchey (1977) experiment forgot what the teacher
wore but remembered the subject she taught.
You cannot help but experience the world in terms of the categories you know.
For example, if you were licked by a four-legged furry object that weighed about
50 pounds and had a wagging tail, you would perceive yourself as being licked by
Multimodal Hypothesis Amodal Hypothesis
Visual
Other
Verbal
Motor
Visual
Other
Verbal
Motor
Meaning
(a) (b)
FIGURE 5.9 Representations
of two hypotheses about how
information is related between
different perceptual and motor
modalities. (a) The multimodal
hypothesis holds that there
are mechanisms for translating
between each modality. (b) The
amodal hypothesis holds that
each modality can be translated
back and forth to a central
meaning representation.
Anderson_8e_Ch05.indd 109 13/09/14 9:40 AM
110 / Chapter 5 R e P R e S e n TAT I o n o f K n o W L e D G e
a dog. What does your cognitive system gain by categorizing the object as a dog?
Basically, it gains the ability to predict. Thus, you can have expectations about what
sounds this creature might make and what would happen if you threw a ball (the
dog might chase it and stop licking you). Because of this ability to predict, categories
give us great economy in representation and communication. For instance, if you
tell someone, “I was licked by a dog,” your listener can predict the number of legs on
the creature, its approximate size, and so on.
The effects of such categorical perceptions are not always positive—for
instance, they can lead to stereotyping. In one study, Dunning and Sherman
(1997) had participants study sentences such as
Elizabeth was not very surprised upon receiving her math SAT score.
or
Bob was not very surprised upon receiving his math SAT score.
Participants who had heard the first sentence were more likely to falsely believe
they had heard “Elizabeth was not very surprised upon receiving her low math
SAT score,” whereas if they had heard the second sentence, they were more
likely to believe they had heard “Bob was not very surprised upon receiving
his high math SAT score.” Categorizing Elizabeth as a woman, the participants
brought the stereotype of women as poor at math to their interpretation of the
first sentence. Categorizing Bob as male, they brought the opposite stereotype
to their interpretation of the second sentence. This was even true among par-
ticipants (both male and female) who were rated as not being sexist in their
attitudes. They could not help but be influenced by their implicit stereotypes.
Research on categorization has focused both on how we form these
categories in the first place and on how we use them to interpret experiences.
It has also been concerned with notations for representing this categorical
knowledge. In this section, we will consider a number of proposed notations
for representing conceptual knowledge. We will start by describing two early
theories, one proposing semantic networks and the other proposing schemas.
Both theories have been closely related to certain empirical phenomena that
seem central to conceptual structure.
■ The categorical organization of our knowledge strongly influences
the way we encode and remember our experiences.
Semantic Networks
Quillian (1966) proposed that people store information about various categories—
such as canaries, robins, fish, and so on—in a network structure like that shown
in Figure 5.10. In this illustration, we represent a hierarchy of categorical facts,
such as that a canary is a bird and a bird is an animal, by linking nodes for the two
categories with isa links. Properties that are true of the categories are associated
with them. Properties that are true of higher-level categories are also true of lower
level categories. Thus, because animals breathe, it follows that birds and canaries
breathe. Figure 5.10 can also represent information about exceptions. For instance,
even though most birds fly, the illustration does represent that ostriches cannot fly.
Collins and Quillian (1969) did an experiment to test the psychological
reality of such networks by having participants judge the truth of assertions
about concepts, such as
1. Canaries can sing.
2. Canaries have feathers.
3. Canaries have skin.
Anderson_8e_Ch05.indd 110 13/09/14 9:40 AM
C o n C e P T U A L K n o W L e D G e / 111
Participants were shown these along with false assertions, such as “apples
have feathers,” and they had to judge which were true and which were false.
The false assertions were mainly to keep participants “honest”; Collins and
Quillian were really interested in how quickly participants could judge true
assertions like sentences 1 through 3, above.
Consider how participants would answer such questions if Figure 5.10
represented their knowledge of such categories. The information needed to
confirm sentence 1 is directly stored with canary. The information for sen-
tence 2, however, is not directly stored with canary; instead, the property of
having feathers is stored with bird. Thus, confirming sentence 2 requires
making an inference from two pieces of information in the hierarchy: a canary
is a bird and birds have feathers. Similarly, the information needed to confirm
sentence 3 is not directly stored with canary; rather, the property of having
skin is stored with animal. Thus, confirming sentence 3 requires making an
inference from three pieces of information in the hierarchy: a canary is a bird,
a bird is an animal, and animals have skin. In other words, to verify sentence 1,
participants would just have to look at the information stored with canary; for
sentence 2, participants would need to traverse one link, from canary to bird;
and for sentence 3, they would have to traverse two links, from canary to bird
and from bird to animal.
If our categorical knowledge were structured like Figure 5.10, we would ex-
pect sentence 1 to be verified more quickly than sentence 2, which would be
verified more quickly than sentence 3. This is just what Collins and Quillian
found. Participants required 1,310 ms to judge statements like sentence 1; 1,380
ms to judge statements like sentence 2; and 1,470 ms to judge statements like
sentence 3. Subsequent research on the retrieval of information from memory
has somewhat complicated the conclusions drawn from the initial Collins and
Quillian experiment. How often facts are experienced has been observed to
have strong effects on retrieval time (e.g., C. Conrad, 1972). Some facts, such
Level 1
Level 2
Level 3 Canary
Can sing
Is yellow
Bird
Has wings
Can fly
Has feathers
Animal
Has skin
Can move around
Eats
Breathes
Ostrich
Has long
thin legs
Is tall
Can’t fly
Shark
Can bite
Is dangerous
Fish
Has fins
Can swim
Has gills
Salmon
Is pink
Is edible
Swims
upstream
to lay eggs
FIGURE 5.10 A hypothetical memory structure for a three-level hierarchy using the exam-
ple canary. Quillian (1966) proposed that people store information about various catego-
ries in a network structure. This illustration represents a hierarchy of categorical facts, such
as that a canary is a bird and a bird is an animal. Properties that are true of each category
are associated with that category. Properties that are true of higher level categories are
also true of lower level categories. (Adapted from Collins, A. M., & Quillian, M. R. (1969).
Retrieval time from semantic memory. Journal of verbal Learning and verbal Behavior, 8,
240–247. Copyright © 1969 by Academic Press. Reprinted by permission.)
Anderson_8e_Ch05.indd 111 13/09/14 9:40 AM
112 / Chapter 5 R e P R e S e n TAT I o n o f K n o W L e D G e
as apples are eaten—for which the predicate could be stored with an intermedi-
ate concept such as food, but that are experienced quite often—are verified as
fast as or faster than facts such as apples have dark seeds, which must be stored
more directly with the apple concept. It seems that if a fact about a concept is
encountered frequently, it will be stored with that concept, even if it could also
be inferred from a more general concept. The following statements about the
organization of facts in semantic memory and their retrieval times seem to be
valid conclusions from the research:
1. If a fact about a concept is encountered frequently, it will be stored with
that concept even if it could be inferred from a higher order concept.
2. The more frequently a fact about a concept is encountered, the more
strongly that fact will be associated with the concept. The more strongly
facts are associated with concepts, the more rapidly they are verified.
3. Inferring facts that are not directly stored with a concept takes a relatively
long time.
■ When a property is not stored directly with a concept, people can
retrieve it from a higher order concept.
Schemas
Consider the many things we know about houses, such as
● Houses are a type of building.
● Houses have rooms.
● Houses can be built of wood, brick, or stone.
● Houses serve as human dwellings.
● Houses tend to have rectilinear and triangular shapes.
● Houses are usually larger than 100 square feet and smaller than
10,000 square feet.
The importance of a category is that it stores predictable information about
specific instances of that category. So when someone mentions a house, for
example, we have a rough idea of the size of the object being referred to.
Semantic networks, which just store properties with concepts, cannot cap-
ture the nature of our general knowledge about a house, such as its typical size
or shape. Researchers in cognitive science (e.g., Rumelhart & Ortony, 1976)
proposed a particular way of representing such knowledge that seemed more
useful than the semantic network representation. Their representational struc-
ture is called a schema. The concept of a schema was first articulated in AI and
computer science. Readers who have experience with modern programming
languages should recognize its similarity to various types of data structures.
The question for the psychologist is: What aspects of the schema notion are ap-
propriate for understanding how people reason about concepts? I will describe
some of the properties associated with schemas and then discuss the psycho-
logical research bearing on these properties.
Schemas represent categorical knowledge according to a slot structure, in
which slots are attributes that members of a category possess, and each slot is
filled with one or more values, or specific instances, of that attribute. So we have
the following partial schema representation of a house:
House
● Isa: building
● Parts: rooms
● Materials: wood, brick, stone
Anderson_8e_Ch05.indd 112 13/09/14 9:40 AM
C o n C e P T U A L K n o W L e D G e / 113
● Function: human dwelling
● Shape: rectilinear, triangular
● Size: 100–10,000 square feet
In this representation, such terms as materials and shape are the attributes or
slots, and such terms as wood, brick, and rectilinear are the values. Each pair
of a slot and a value specifies a typical feature. Values like those listed above
are called default values, because they do not exclude other possibilities. For
instance, the fact that houses are usually built of materials such as wood, brick,
and stone does not mean that something built of cardboard could not be a
house. Similarly, the fact that our schema for birds specifies that birds can fly
does not prevent us from seeing ostriches as birds. We simply overwrite this
default value in our representation of an ostrich.
A special slot in each schema is its isa slot, which points to the superset.
Basically, unless contradicted, a concept inherits the features of its superset.
Thus, with the schema for building, the superset of house, we would store such
features as that it has a roof and walls and that it is found on the ground. This
information is not represented in the schema for house because it can be in-
ferred from building. As illustrated in Figure 5.10, these isa links can create a
structure called a generalization hierarchy.
Schemas have another type of structure, called a part hierarchy. Parts of
houses, such as walls and rooms, have their own schema definitions. Stored
with schemas for walls and rooms would be the information that they have win-
dows and ceilings as parts. Thus, using the part hierarchy, we would be able to
infer that houses have windows and ceilings.
Schemas are abstractions from specific instances that can be used to
make inferences about instances of the concepts they represent. If we know
something is a house, we can use the schema to infer that it is probably made
of wood, brick, or stone and that it has walls, windows, and ceilings. The
inferential processes for schemas must also be able to deal with exceptions:
We can understand that a house without a roof is still a house. Finally, it is
necessary to understand the constraints between the slots of a schema. If we
hear of a house that is underground, for example, we can infer that it will not
have windows.
■ Schemas represent concepts in terms of supersets, parts, and other
attribute-value pairs.
Psychological Reality of Schemas The fact that schemas
have default values for certain slots or attributes provides schemas
with a useful inferential mechanism. If you recognize an object
as being a member of a certain category, you can infer—unless
explicitly contradicted—that it has the default values associated
with that concept’s schema. Brewer and Treyens (1981) provided
an interesting demonstration of the effects of schemas on memo-
ry inferences. Thirty participants were brought individually to the
room shown in Figure 5.11. Each was told that this room was the
office of the experimenter and was asked to wait there while the
experimenter went to the laboratory to see whether the previous
participant had finished. After 35 s, the experimenter returned
and took the waiting participant to a nearby seminar room. Here,
the participant was asked to write down everything he or she
could remember about the experimental room. What would you
be able to recall?
FIGURE 5.11 The “office room”
used in the experiment of Brewer
and Treyens to demonstrate the
effects of schemas on memory
inferences. As they predicted,
participants’ recall was strongly in-
fluenced by their schema of what
an office contains. (From Brewer
& Treyens, 1981. Reprinted with
permission from Elsevier.)
Anderson_8e_Ch05.indd 113 13/09/14 9:40 AM
114 / Chapter 5 R e P R e S e n TAT I o n o f K n o W L e D G e
Brewer and Treyens predicted that their participants’ recall would be
strongly influenced by their schema of what an office contains. Participants
would recall very well items that are default values of that schema, they would
recall much less well items that are not default values of the schema, and they
would falsely recall items that are default values of the schema but were not in
this office. Brewer and Treyens found just this pattern of results. For instance,
29 of the 30 participants recalled that the office had a chair, a desk, and walls.
Only 8 participants, however, recalled that it had a bulletin board or a skull. On
the other hand, 9 participants recalled that it had books, which it did not. Thus,
we see that a person’s memory for the properties of a location is strongly influ-
enced by that person’s default assumptions about what is typically found in the
location. A schema is a way of encoding those default assumptions.
■ People will infer that an object has the default values for its cate-
gory, unless they explicitly notice otherwise.
Degree of Category Membership One of the important features of schemas
is that they allow variation in the objects associated with a schema. There are
constraints on what typically occupies the various slots of a schema, but few ab-
solute prohibitions. Thus, if schemas encode our knowledge about various object
categories, we ought to see a shading from less typical to more typical members
of the category as the features of the members better satisfy the schema con-
straints. There is now considerable evidence that natural categories such as birds
have the kind of structure that would be expected of a schema.
Rosch did early research documenting such variations in category mem-
bership. In one experiment (Rosch, 1973), she instructed participants to rate
the typicality of various members of a category on a 1 to 7 scale, where 1 meant
very typical and 7 meant very atypical. Participants consistently rated some
members as more typical than others. In the bird category, robin got an aver-
age rating of 1.1, and chicken a rating of 3.8. In reference to sports, football was
thought to be very typical (1.2), whereas weight lifting was not (4.7). Murder
was rated a very typical crime (1.0), whereas vagrancy was not (5.3). Carrot was
a very typical vegetable (1.1); parsley was not (3.8).
Rosch (1975) also asked participants to identify the category of pictured
objects. People are faster to judge a picture as an instance of a category when it
presents a typical member of the category. For instance, apples are seen as fruits
more rapidly than are watermelons, and robins are seen as birds more rapidly
than are chickens. Thus, typical members of a category appear to have an ad-
vantage in perceptual recognition as well.
Rosch (1977) demonstrated another way in which some members of a cat-
egory are more typical. She had participants compose sentences for category
names. For bird, participants generated sentences such as
I heard a bird twittering outside my window.
Three birds sat on the branch of a tree.
A bird flew down and began eating.
Rosch replaced the category name in these sentences with a typical mem-
ber (robin), a less typical member (eagle), or a peripheral member (chicken)
and asked participants to rate the sensibleness of the resulting sentences. Sen-
tences involving typical members got high ratings, sentences with less typical
members got lower ratings, and sentences with peripheral members got the
lowest ratings. This result indicates that when participants wrote the sentences,
they were thinking of typical members of the category.
Anderson_8e_Ch05.indd 114 13/09/14 9:40 AM
C o n C e P T U A L K n o W L e D G e / 115
Failing to have a default or typical value does not disqualify an
object from being a member of the category, but people’s judgments
about nontypical objects tend to vary a great deal. McCloskey
and Glucksberg (1978) looked at people’s judgments about what
were or were not members of various categories. They found that
although participants did agree on some items, they disagreed on
many. For instance, whereas all 30 participants agreed that cancer
was a disease and happiness was not, 16 thought stroke was a
disease and 14 did not. Again, all 30 participants agreed that apple
was a fruit and chicken was not, but 16 thought pumpkin was a
fruit and 14 disagreed. Once again, all participants agreed that
a fly was an insect and a dog was not, but 13 participants thought
a leech was and 17 disagreed. Thus, it appears that people do not
always agree on what is a member of a category. McCloskey and
Glucksberg tested the same participants a month later and found
that many had changed their minds about the disputed items. For
instance, 11 out of 30 reversed themselves on stroke, 8 reversed
themselves on pumpkin, and 3 reversed themselves on leech. Thus,
disagreement about category boundaries does not occur just among
participants—people are very uncertain within themselves exactly
where the boundaries of a category should be drawn.
Figure 5.12 illustrates a set of materials used by Labov (1973)
in studying which items participants would call cups and which they would not.
Which do you consider to be cups and which do you consider bowls? The in-
teresting point is that these concepts do not appear to have clear-cut bounda-
ries. In one experiment, Labov used the series of items 1 through 4 shown in
Figure 5.12 and a fifth item, not shown. These items reflect an increasing ra-
tio of width of the cup to depth. For the first item, that ratio is 1, whereas for
item 4 it is 1.9. The ratio for the item not shown was 2.5. Figure 5.13 shows
the percentage of participants who called each of the five objects a cup and
the percentage who called each a bowl, under two different conditions. In one
condition (neutral context, indicated by solid lines), participants were simply
presented with pictures of the objects. As can be seen, the percentages of cup
responses gradually decreased with increasing width, but there is no clear-cut
point where participants stopped using cup. At the extreme 2.5-width ratio,
about 25% percent of the participants still gave the cup response, whereas an-
other 25% gave bowl. (The remaining 50% gave other responses.) In the other
condition (food context, indicated by dashed lines), participants were asked to
1
5
6
7
8
9
17
19
16
18
12 15
11 14
10 13
2 3 4
FIGURE 5.12 The various
cuplike objects used in Labov’s
experiment that studied the
boundaries of the cup category.
(Figure: Numbered cups/glasses
© 1973 by Georgetown University
Press. Labov, W. (1973). The
boundaries of words and their
meanings. In C.-J. N. Bailey &
R.W. Shuy (Eds.), new ways of
analyzing variations in english
(p. 354). Washington, DC:
Georgetown University Press.
Reprinted with permission.
www.press.georgetown.edu.)
1.0 1.2
0
25
1.5 1.9 2.5
50
75
100
Cup
Bowl
Bowl
Cup
Neutral context
Food context
Relative width of cup
Re
sp
on
se
(%
)
FIGURE 5.13 Results from
Labov’s experiment demon-
strating that the cup category
does not appear to have clear-
cut boundaries. The percentage
of participants who used the
term cup versus the term bowl
to describe the objects shown in
figure 5.12 is plotted as a func-
tion of the ratio of width to depth.
The solid lines reflect the neutral-
context condition, the dashed
lines the food-context condition.
(Data from Labov, 1973, in Bailey
& Shuy, 1973.)
Anderson_8e_Ch05.indd 115 13/09/14 9:40 AM
http://www.press.georgetown.edu
116 / Chapter 5 R e P R e S e n TAT I o n o f K n o W L e D G e
imagine the object filled with mashed potatoes and placed on a table. In this
context, fewer cup responses and more bowl responses were given, but the data
show the same gradual shift from cup to bowl. Thus, it appears that people’s
classification behavior varies continuously not only with the properties of an
object but also with the context in which the object is imagined or presented.
These influences of perceptual features and context on categorization judg-
ments are very much like the similar influences of these features on perceptual
pattern recognition (see Chapter 2).
■ Different instances are judged to be members of a category to dif-
ferent degrees, with the more typical members of a category having
an advantage in processing.
Event Concepts Just as objects have a conceptual structure that can be ex-
pressed in terms of category membership, so also do various kinds of events,
such as going to a movie or going to a restaurant. Schemas have been proposed
as ways of representing such categories, allowing us to encode our knowledge
about stereotypic events according to their parts. For instance, going to a movie
involves going to the theater, buying the ticket, buying refreshments, seeing the
movie, and returning from the theater. Schank and Abelson (1977) proposed
versions of event schemas that they called scripts, based on their observation
that many events involve stereotypic sequences of actions. For instance, Table 5.1
represents the components of a script for dining at a restaurant, based on their
hunch as to what the stereotypic aspects of such an occasion might be.
Bower, Black, and Turner (1979) reported a series of experiments in which
the psychological reality of the script notion was tested. They asked participants
to name what they considered the 20 most important events in an episode,
such as going to a restaurant. With 32 participants, they failed to get complete
agreement on what these events were. No particular action was listed as part of
the episode by all participants, although considerable consensus was reported.
TABlE 5.1 The Schema for Going to a Restaurant
Scene I: Entering
Customer enters restaurant
Customer looks for table
Customer decides where to sit
Customer goes to table
Customer sits down
Scene 2: Ordering
Customer picks up menu
Customer looks at menu
Customer decides on food
Customer signals waitress
Waitress comes to table
Customer orders food
Waitress goes to cook
Waitress gives food order to cook
Cook prepares food
Scene 3: Eating
Cook gives food to waitress
Waitress brings food to customer
Customer eats food
Scene 4: Exiting
Waitress writes bill
Waitress goes over to customer
Waitress gives bill to customer
Customer gives tip to waitress
Customer goes to cashier
Customer gives money to cashier
Customer leaves restaurant
from Schank & Abelson (1977). Reprinted by permission of the publisher.
© 1977 by erlbaum.
Anderson_8e_Ch05.indd 116 13/09/14 9:40 AM
C o n C e P T U A L K n o W L e D G e / 117
Table 5.2 lists the events named. The items in roman type were listed by at least
25% of the participants; the italicized items were named by at least 48%; and the
boldfaced items were given by at least 73%. Using 73% as a criterion, we find
that the stereotypic sequence was sit down, look at menu, order meal, eat food,
pay bill, and leave.
Bower et al. (1979) went on to show that such action scripts have a num-
ber of effects on memory for stories. They had participants study stories that
included some but not all of the typical events from a script. Participants were
then asked to recall the stories (in one experiment) or to recognize whether
various statements came from the story (in another experiment). When recall-
ing these stories, participants tended to report statements that were parts of the
script but that had not been presented as parts of the stories. Similarly, in the
recognition test, participants thought they had studied script items that had not
actually been in the stories. However, participants showed a greater tendency
to recall actual items from the stories or to recognize actual items than to mis-
recognize foils that were not in the stories, despite the distortion in the direc-
tion of the general schema.
In another experiment, these same investigators read to participants stories
composed of 12 prototypical actions in an episode; 8 of the actions occurred in
their standard temporal position, but 4 were rearranged. Thus, in the restaurant
story, the bill might be paid at the beginning and the menu read at the end.
In recalling these stories, participants showed a strong tendency to put the ac-
tions back into their normal order. In fact, about half of the statements were put
back. This experiment serves as another demonstration of the powerful effect
of general schemas on memory for stories.
These experiments indicate that new events are encoded with respect to
general schemas and that subsequent recall is influenced by the schemas. One
might be tempted to say that participants were misrecalling the stories, but it
is not clear that misrecalling is the right characterization. Normally, if a certain
standard event, such as paying a check at a restaurant, is omitted in a story, we
TABlE 5.2 Agreement About the Actions Stereotypically Involved
in Going to a Restaurant
open doora
Enterb
Give reservation name
Wait to be seated
Go to table
Sit downc
Order drinks
Put napkins on lap
Look at menu
Discuss menu
Order meal
Talk
Drink water
Eat salad or soup
Meal arrives
Eat food
finish meal
Order dessert
Eat dessert
Ask for bill
Bill arrives
Pay bill
Leave tip
Get coats
Leave
aRoman type indicates items listed by at least 25% of the participants.
bItalic type indicates items listed by at least 48% of the participants.
cBoldface type indicates items listed by at least 73% of the participants.
Adapted from Bower, G. H., Black, J. B., & Turner, T. J. (1979). Scripts in
memory for text. Cognitive Psychology, 11, 177–220. Copyright © 1979
elsevier. Reprinted by permission.
Anderson_8e_Ch05.indd 117 13/09/14 9:40 AM
118 / Chapter 5 R e P R e S e n TAT I o n o f K n o W L e D G e
are supposed to assume it occurred. Similarly, if the storyteller says the check
was paid before the meal was ordered, we have some reason to doubt the story-
teller. Scripts or schemas exist because they encode the predominant sequence of
actions making up a particular kind of event. Thus, they can serve as a valuable
basis for filling in missing information and for correcting errors in information.
■ Scripts are event schemas that people use to reason about
prototypical events.
Abstraction Theories Versus Exemplar Theories
We have described semantic networks and schemas as two ways of represent-
ing conceptual knowledge. Although each has merits, the field of cognitive
psychology has concluded that both are inadequate. We already noted that se-
mantic networks do not capture the graded character of categorical knowledge
such that different instances are better or worse members of a category. Sche-
mas can do this, but it has never been clear in detail how to relate them to be-
havior. Much ongoing research in cognitive psychology is trying to discriminate
between general ways of capturing conceptual knowledge. Abstraction theories
hold that we actually abstract the general properties of a category from the spe-
cific instances we have studied and that we store those abstractions. In contrast,
exemplar theories hold that we store only the specific instances and that we
infer the general properties from these instances. The debate between these two
perspectives has been with us for centuries—for instance, in the debate between
the British philosophers John Locke and George Berkeley. Locke claimed that
he had an abstract idea of a triangle that was neither oblique nor right-angled,
neither equilateral, isosceles, nor scalene, but all of these at once, while Berkeley
claimed it was simply impossible for himself to have an idea of a triangle that
was not the idea of some specific triangle.
The schema theory we have considered is an abstraction theory, but others
of this type have been more successful. One alternative assumes that people
store a single prototype of what an instance of the category is like and judge
specific instances in terms of their similarity to that prototype (e.g., Reed,
1972). Other models assume that participants store a representation that also
encodes some idea of the allowable variation around the prototype (e.g., Hayes-
Roth & Hayes-Roth, 1977; J. R. Anderson, 1991).
Exemplar theories, such as those of Medin and Schaffer (1978) and
Nosofsky (1986), could not be more different. The assumption that we store
no central concept but only specific instances, means that when it comes time
to judge, for example, how typical a specific bird is in the general category of
birds, we compare the specific bird to other specific birds and make some sort
of judgment of average difference.
Given that abstraction and exemplar theories differ so greatly in what they
propose the mind does, it is surprising that they generate such similar predic-
tions over a wide range of experiments. For instance, both types predict better
processing of central members of a category. Abstraction theories predict this
because central instances are more similar to the abstract representation of the
concept. Exemplar theories predict this because central instances will be more
similar, on average, to other instances of a category.
There appear to be subtle differences between the predictions of the two
types of theories, however. Exemplar theories predict that specific instances
someone has encountered should have effects that go beyond any effect of some
representation of the central tendency. Thus, although we may think that dogs
in general bark, we may have experienced a peculiar-looking dog that did not,
and we would then tend to expect that another similar-looking dog would also
Concepts
Anderson_8e_Ch05.indd 118 13/09/14 9:40 AM
C o n C e P T U A L K n o W L e D G e / 119
not bark. Such effects of specific instances can be found in some experiments
(e.g., Medin & Schaffer, 1978; Nosofsky, 1991). On the other hand, some re-
search has shown that people will infer tendencies that are not in the specific
instances (Elio & Anderson, 1981). For example, if we have encountered many
dogs that chase balls and many dogs that bark at the postman, we might con-
sider a dog that both chases balls and barks at the postman to be particularly
typical. However, we may never have observed any specific dog both chasing
balls and barking at the postman.
It seems that people may sometimes use abstractions and other times
use instances to represent categories (Ashby & Maddox, 2011). Perhaps the
clearest evidence for this expanded view comes from neuroimaging studies
showing that different participants use different brain regions to categorize
instances. For example, Smith, Patalano, and Jonides (1998) had parti-
cipants learn to classify a set of 10 animals like those shown in Figure 5.14.
One group was encouraged to use rules such as “An animal is from Venus if
at least three of the following are true: antennae ears, curly tail, hoofed feet,
beak, and long neck. Otherwise it is from Saturn.” Participants in a second
group were encouraged simply to memorize the categories for the 10 animals.
Smith et al. found very different patterns of brain activation as participants
classified the stimuli. Regions in the prefrontal cortex tended to be activated
in the participants who used abstract rules, whereas regions in the occipital
visual areas and the cerebellum were activated in the participants who memo-
rized instances (exemplars). Smith and Grossman (2008) review evidence that
using exemplars also activates brain regions supporting memory, such as the
hippocampus (see Figure 1.7).
There may be multiple different ways of representing concepts as abstrac-
tions. Although the Smith et al. study identified an abstract system that involves
explicit reasoning by means of rules, there is also evidence for abstract systems
that involve unconscious pattern recognition—for instance, our ability to dis-
tinguish dogs from cats, without being able to articulate any of the features
that separate the two species. Ashby and Maddox (2005) argue that this system
depends on the basal ganglia (see Figure 1.8). Damage to the basal ganglia (as
happens with Parkinson’s and Huntington’s disease) results in deficits in learn-
ing such categories. The basal ganglia region has been found to be activated in a
number of studies of implicit category learning.
■ Categories can be represented either by abstracting their central
tendencies or by storing many specific instances of categories.
FIGURE 5.14 examples of the drawings of artificial animals used in the PeT studies of
Smith, Patalano, and Jonides showing that people sometimes use rule-based abstractions
and sometimes use memory-based instances to represent categories. (Adapted from
Smith, E. E., Patalano, A., & Jonides, J. (1998). Alternative strategies of categorization. Cogni-
tion, 65, 167–196. Copyright © 1998 Elsevier. Reprinted by permission.)
Anderson_8e_Ch05.indd 119 13/09/14 9:40 AM
120 / Chapter 5 R e P R e S e n TAT I o n o f K n o W L e D G e
Natural Categories and Their Brain Representations
The studies discussed above look at the learning of new laboratory-defined
categories. There has always been some question about how similar such
laboratory-defined categories are to the kinds of natural categories that we
have acquired through experience, such as birds or chairs. Laboratory-defined
categories display the same sort of fuzzy boundaries that natural categories do
and share a number of other attributes, but natural categories arise over a much
longer time than the time spent on a typical laboratory task.
Over their long learning history, people come to develop biases about such
natural categories as living things and artifacts. Much of the research docu-
menting these biases has been done with primary-school children who are still
learning such categories. For instance, if primary-school children are told that a
human has a spleen, they will conclude that dogs have spleens too (Carey, 1985).
Similarly, if they are told that a red apple has pectin inside, they will assume that
green apples also have pectin (Gelman, 1988). Apparently, children assume that if
something is a part of a member of a biological category, it is an inherent part of
all members of the category. On the other hand, if children are told that an arti-
fact such as a cup is made of ceramic, they do not believe that all cups are made
of ceramic. The pattern is just the opposite with respect to actions. For instance,
if told that a cup is used for “imbibing” (a term they do not know), they believe
that all cups are used for imbibing. In contrast, if told that they can “repast”
with a particular red apple, they do not necessarily believe that they can repast
with a green apple. Thus, artifacts seem distinguished by the fact that there are
actions appropriate to the whole category of artifacts. In summary, children come
to believe that all things in a biological category have the same parts (like pectin
in apples) and that all things in an artifact category have the same function (like
imbibing for cups).
Cognitive neuroscience data suggest that biological and artifact categories
are represented differently in the brain. Much of this evidence comes from
patients with semantic dementia, who suffer deficits in their categorical
knowledge because of brain damage. Patients with damage to different regions
show different deficits. Patients who have damage to the temporal lobes suffer
deficits in their knowledge about biological categories such as animals, fruits,
and vegetables (Warrington & Shallice, 1984; Saffran & Schwartz, 1994). These
patients are unable to recognize such objects as ducks, and when one was
asked what a duck is, the patient was only able to say “an animal.” However,
knowledge about artifacts such as tools and furniture is relatively unaffected
in these patients. On the other hand, patients with frontoparietal lesions are
impaired in their processing of artifact categories but unaffected in their
processing of biological categories. Table 5.3 compares example descriptions of
biological categories and artifact categories by two patients with temporal lobe
damage. These types of patients are more common than patients with deficits in
their knowledge of artifacts.
It has been suggested (e.g., Warrington & Shallice, 1984; Farah & McClelland,
1991) that these dissociations occur because biological categories are more associ-
ated with perceptual features such as shape, whereas artifacts are more associated
with the actions that we perform with them. Farah and McClelland developed a
computer simulation model of this dissociation that learns associations among
words, pictures, visual semantic features, and functional semantic features. By se-
lectively damaging the visual features in their computer simulation, they were able
to produce a deficit in knowledge of living things; and by selectively damaging the
functional features, they were able to produce a deficit in knowledge of artifacts.
Thus, loss of categorical information in such patients seems related to loss of the
feature information that defines these categories.
Anderson_8e_Ch05.indd 120 13/09/14 9:40 AM
C o n C e P T U A L K n o W L e D G e / 121
Brain-imaging data also seem consistent with this conclusion (see A. Martin,
2001, for review). In particular, it has been shown that when people process
pictures of artifacts or words denoting artifacts, the same regions of the brain that
have been shown to produce category-specific deficits when damaged tend to be
activated. Processing of both animals and tools activates regions of the tempo-
ral cortex, but the tool regions tend to be located above (superior to) the animal
regions. There is also activation of occipital regions (visual cortex) when process-
ing animals. In general, the evidence seems to point to a greater visual involve-
ment in the representation of animals and a greater motor involvement in the
representation of artifacts. There is some debate in the literature over whether
the real distinction is between natural categories and artifacts or between visual-
based and motor-based categories (Caramazza, 2000).
Although the temporal lobe seems to play a criti-
cal role in the representation of natural categories, the
evidence is that knowledge of these categories is distrib-
uted throughout the brain. Just, Cherkassky, Aryal, and
Mitchell (2010) report an fMRI study of brain representa-
tion of common nouns like hammer, tomato, and house.
They found that when participants thought about these
nouns, there were regions activated throughout the brain
depending on the features of the word. Figure 5.15 shows
regions on the brain that were activated by four features
of the word. So, for instance, a word like hammer would
produce high action in the Manipulation regions and a
word like house would activate the Shelter regions. On
the basis of these features they were able to predict the re-
gions that would be activated by novel words like apart-
ment and shelter. This served the basis of an impressive
60 Minutes report, “Mind Reading,” where these research-
ers were able to predict what words a person was reading.
In this study, tool words (an artifact category)
tended to activate Manipulation regions, and food words
TABlE 5.3 Performance of Two Patients with Impaired Knowledge of Living Things
on Definitions Task
Patient Living Things Artifacts
1 Parrot: Don’t know
Daffodil: Plant
Snail: An insect animal
Eel: not well
Ostrich: Unusual
Tent: Temporary outhouse, living
home
Briefcase: Small case used by
students to carry papers
Compass: Tool for telling direction
you are going
Torch: Handheld light
Dustbin: Bin for putting rubbish in
2 Duck: An animal
Wasp: Bird that flies
Crocus: Rubbish material
Holly: What you drink
Spider: A person looking for
things, he was a spider for
his nation or country
Wheelbarrow: object used by people
to take material about
Towel: Material used to dry people
Pram: Used to carry people, with
wheels and a thing to sit on
Submarine: Ship that goes
underneath the sea
After farah & McClelland (1991). Adapted by permission of the publisher. © 1991 by
Journal of Experimental Psychology: General.
Shelter
Manipulation
Eating
Word length
FIGURE 5.15 Regions that
Just et al. (2010) found to be
activated when participants were
thinking about common nouns
with different features.
Anderson_8e_Ch05.indd 121 13/09/14 9:40 AM
122 / Chapter 5 R e P R e S e n TAT I o n o f K n o W L e D G e
(a biological category) tended to activate Eating regions. Though these regions
were distributed throughout the brain, they included regions that could be pre-
dicted from the difference between how we deal with tools versus food. For in-
stance, the Manipulation regions included areas that are associated with arm
movements, and the Eating region included areas that are associated with face-
related actions like chewing.
■ There are differences in the ways people think about biological
categories and artifact categories and differences in the brain regions
that support these two types of categories.
◆ Conclusions
Estimates of the storage capacity (e.g., Treves & Rolls, 1994; Moll & Miikku-
lainen, 1997) of the brain differ substantially, but they are all many orders of
magnitude less than what would be required to store a faithful video recording
of our whole life. This chapter has reviewed the studies of what we retain and
what we forget—for instance, what subject was being taught, but not what the
teacher was wearing (Figure 5.4), or that we were in an office, but not what was
in the office (Figure 5.11). The chapter also reviewed three perspectives on the
basis for this selective memory.
1. The multimodal hypothesis (Figure 5.9a) that we select important aspects
of our experience to remember and often convert from one medium to an-
other. For instance, we may describe a room (visual) as an “office” (verbal).
This hypothesis holds that we maintain the perceptual-motor aspects of
our experience but only the significant aspects.
2. The amodal hypothesis (Figure 5.9b) that we convert our experience into
some abstract representation that just encodes what is important. For in-
stance, the chapter discussed how propositional networks (e.g., Figure 5.8)
captured the connections among the concepts in our understanding of a
sentence.
3. The schema hypothesis that we remember our experiences in terms of the
categories that they seem to exemplify. These categories can be formed
either as abstractions of general properties or as inferences from specific
experiences.
These hypotheses are not mutually exclusive, and cognitive scientists are actively
engaged in trying to understand how to coordinate these different perspectives.
Questions for Thought
1. Jill Price, the person with superior autobio-
graphical memory described at the beginning of
the chapter, can remember what happened on
almost any day of her life (see her interview with
Diane Sawyers: http://abcnews.go.com/Health/
story?id=4813052&page=1). For instance, if you
ask her, she can tell you the date of the last show of
any former TV series she watched. On the other
hand, she reported great difficulty in remembering
the dates in history class. Why do you think this is?
2. Take some sentences at random from this book
and try to develop propositional representations
for them.
3. Barsalou (2008) claims little empirical evidence
has been accumulated to support amodal symbol
systems. What research reviewed in this chapter
might be considered evidence for amodal symbol
systems?
4. Consider the debate between amodal theories
and multimodal theories and the debate between
exemplar and abstraction theories. In what ways
are these debates similar and in what ways are
they different?
Anderson_8e_Ch05.indd 122 13/09/14 9:40 AM
http://abcnews.go.com/Health/
C o n C L U S I o n S / 123
Key Terms
abstraction theories
amodal hypothesis
amodal symbol system
arguments
default values
dual-code theory
embodied cognition
exemplar theories
isa links
mirror neurons
mnemonic technique
multimodal hypothesis
perceptual symbol system
proposition
propositional
representation
relation
schema
scripts
slot
Anderson_8e_Ch05.indd 123 13/09/14 9:40 AM
124
Previous chapters have discussed how we perceive and encode what is in our
present. Now we turn to discussing memory, which is the means by which we
can perceive our past. People who lose the ability to create new memories become
effectively blind to their past. The movie Memento provides a striking characterization
of what this would be like. The protagonist of the film, Leonard, has anterograde
amnesia, a condition that prevents him from forming new memories. He can
remember his past up to the point of a terrible crime that left him with amnesia, and
he can keep track of what is in the immediate present, but as soon as his attention is
drawn to something else, he forgets what has just happened. So, for instance, he is
constantly meeting people he has met before, who have often manipulated him, but
he does not remember them, nor can he protect himself from being manipulated
further. Although Leonard incorrectly labels his condition as having no short-term
memory, this movie is an accurate portrayal of anterograde amnesia—the inability to
form new long-term memories. It focuses on the amazing ways Leonard tries to con-
nect the past with the immediate present.
This chapter and the next can be thought of as being about what worked and
did not work for Leonard. This chapter will answer the following questions:
● How do we maintain a short-term or working memory of what just happened?
This is what still worked for Leonard.
● How does the information we are currently maintaining in working memory
prime knowledge in our long-term memory?
● How do we create permanent memories of our experiences? This is what did
not work anymore for Leonard.
● What factors influence our success in creating new memories?
◆ Memory and the Brain
Throughout the brain, the connections among neurons are capable of
changing in response to experience. This neural plasticity provides the basis
for memory. Although all of the brain plays a role in memory, there are two
regions, illustrated in Figure 6.1, that have played the most prominent role in
research on human memory. First, there is a region within the temporal cortex
that includes the hippocampus, whose role in memory was already discussed
in Chapter 1 (see Figure 1.7). The hippocampus and surrounding structures
play an important role in the storage of new memories. This is where Leonard
had his difficulties. Second, research has found that prefrontal brain regions are
strongly associated with both the encoding of new memories and the retrieval
of old memories. These are the same regions that were discussed in Chapter 5
6
Human Memory: Encoding
and Storage
Anderson_8e_Ch06.indd 124 13/09/14 9:43 AM
S e N S o r y M e M o r y H o L d S I N f o r M AT I o N B r I e f Ly / 125
that are involved in the meaningful encoding of pictures and sentences. This
area also includes the prefrontal region from Chapter 1, Figure 1.15 that was
important in retrieval of arithmetic and algebraic facts.
The prefrontal regions shown in Figure 6.1 exhibit laterality effects similar
to those noted at the beginning of Chapter 5 (Gabrieli, 2001). Specifically, study
of verbal material tends to engage the left hemisphere more than the right
hemisphere, whereas study of pictorial material tends to engage the right hemi-
sphere more.
■ Human memory depends heavily on frontal structures of the brain
for the creation and retrieval of memories and on temporal structures
for the permanent storage of these memories.
◆ Sensory Memory Holds Information Briefly
Before reaching the structures in Figure 6.1, information must be processed by
perceptual systems, and these systems display a brief memory for the incoming
information. There has been extensive research into the nature of these sensory
memories.
Visual Sensory Memory
Many studies of visual sensory memory have used a procedure in
which participants are presented with a visual array of items, such as
the letters shown in Figure 6.2, for a brief period of time (e.g., 50 ms).
When asked to recall the items, participants are able to report three,
four, five, or at most six items. One might think that only this much
material can be held in visual memory—yet participants report that
they were aware of more items but the items faded away before they
could attend to them and report them.
Frontal
lobes
Medial
septum
Hippocampus
Brain Structures FIGURE 6.1 The brain structures
involved in the creation and
storage of memories. Prefrontal
regions are responsible for
the creation of memories. The
hippocampus and surrounding
structures in the temporal
cortex are responsible for the
permanent storage of these
memories.
X
C
V
N K P
F L B
M R J
FIGURE 6.2 An example of the
kind of display used in a visual-
report experiment. The display is
presented briefly to participants,
who are then asked to report the
letters it contains.
Anderson_8e_Ch06.indd 125 13/09/14 9:43 AM
126 / Chapter 6 Hu M A N M e M o r y : e N C o d I N g A N d S To r A g e
An important methodological variation on
this task was introduced by Sperling (1960). He
presented arrays consisting of three rows of four
letters. Immediately after this stimulus was turned
off, participants were cued to attend to just one row
of the display and to report only the letters in that
row. The cues were in the form of different tones
(high for top row, medium for middle, and low for
bottom). Sperling’s method was called the partial-
report procedure, in contrast to the whole-report
procedure, which was what had been used until
then. Participants were able to recall all or most of
the items from a row of four. Because participants
did not know beforehand which row would be
cued, Sperling argued that they must have had most
or all of the items stored in some sort of short-term
visual memory. Given the cue right after the visual
display was turned off, they could attend to that
row in their short-term visual memory and report
the letters in that row. In contrast, in the whole-re-
port procedure, participants could not report more
items because items had faded from this memory
before participants could attend to them.
In the procedure just described, the tone cue was presented immediately
after the display was turned off. Sperling also varied the length of the delay be-
tween the removal of the display and the tone. The results he obtained, in terms
of number of letters recalled, are presented in Figure 6.3. As the delay increased
to 1 s, the participants’ performance decayed back to what would be expected
based on the typical results from the whole-report procedure, where partici-
pants reported 4 or 5 items from an array of 12 items. That is, participants were
reporting about a third of the items from the cued row, just as they reported
about a third of the items from three rows in the whole-report procedure. Thus,
it appears that the memory of the actual display decays very rapidly and is
essentially gone by the end of 1 s. All that is left is what the participant has had
time to attend to and convert to a more permanent form.
Sperling’s experiments indicate the existence of a brief visual sensory store
(sometimes called iconic memory)—a memory system that can effectively
hold all the information in the visual display. While information is being held
in this store, a participant can attend to it and report it, but any of this infor-
mation that is not attended to and processed further will be lost. This sensory
store appears to be particularly visual in character, as Sperling (1967) demon-
strated in an experiment in which he varied the postexposure field (the visual
field after the display). He found that when the postexposure field was light,
the sensory information remained for only 1 s, but when the field was dark, it
remained for a full 5 s. Thus, a bright postexposure field tends to “wash out”
memory for the display. And not surprisingly, a postexposure field consisting of
another display of characters also destroys the memory for the first display.
Auditory Sensory Memory
Speech comes in over time, which means that auditory information must be
held long enough to determine the meaning of what is being said. The exist-
ence of an auditory sensory store (sometimes called echoic memory) has
been demonstrated behaviorally by experiments showing that people can re-
port an auditory stimulus with considerable accuracy if probed for it soon after
4
3
2
1
0
0.0
M
ea
n
nu
m
be
r o
f l
et
te
rs
re
po
rte
d
Delay of tone (s)
0.2 0.4 0.6 0.8 1.0
FIGURE 6.3 results from
Sperling’s experiment demonstrat-
ing the existence of a brief visual
sensory store. Participants were
shown arrays consisting of three
rows of four letters. After the
display was turned off, they were
cued by a tone, either immedi-
ately or after a delay, to recall a
particular one of the three rows.
The results show that the num-
ber of items reported decreased
as the delay in the cuing tone
increased. (Data from Sperling,
1960.)
Partial Report
Anderson_8e_Ch06.indd 126 13/09/14 9:43 AM
S e N S o r y M e M o r y H o L d S I N f o r M AT I o N B r I e f Ly / 127
onset (e.g., Moray, Bates, & Barnett, 1965; Darwin, Turvey, & Crowder, 1972;
Glucksberg & Cowan, 1970), similar to Sperling’s experiments demonstrating
visual sensory memory.
One of the more interesting measures of auditory sensory memory involves
an ERP measure called the mismatch negativity. When a sound is presented that
is different from recently heard sounds in pitch or loudness (or is a different
phoneme), there is an increase in the negativity of the ERP recording 150 to 200
ms after the discrepant sound (for a review, read Näätänen, 1992). In one study,
Sams, Hari, Rif, and Knuutila (1993) presented one tone followed by another at
various intervals. If the delay between the two tones was less than 10 s, a mis-
match negativity was produced whenever the second tone was different from the
first. This indicates that an auditory sensory memory can last up to 10 s, consist-
ent with other behavioral measures. It appears that the source of this neural re-
sponse in the brain is at or near the primary auditory cortex. Similarly, it appears
that the information held in visual sensory memory is in or near the primary
visual cortex. Thus, these basic perceptual regions of the cortex hold a brief rep-
resentation of sensory information for further processing.
■ Sensory information is held briefly in cortical sensory memories so
that we can process it.
A Theory of Short-Term Memory
A very important event in the history of cognitive psychology was the devel-
opment of a theory of short-term memory in the 1960s. It clearly illustrated
the power of the new cognitive methodology to account for a great deal of
data in a way that had not been possible with previous behaviorist theories.
Broadbent (1958) had anticipated the theory of short-term memory, and
Waugh and Norman (1965) gave an influential formulation of the theory. How-
ever, it was Atkinson and Shiffrin (1968) who gave the theory its most sys-
tematic development. It has had an enormous influence on psychology, and
although few researchers still accept the original formulation, similar ideas play
a crucial role in some of the modern theories that we will be discussing.
Figure 6.4 illustrates the basic theory. As we have just seen, information
coming in from the environment tends to be held in transient sensory stores
from which it is lost unless attended to. The theory of short-term memory
proposed that attended information went into an intermediate short-term
memory system where it had to be rehearsed before it could go into a relatively
permanent long-term memory. Short-term memory had a limited capacity to
hold information. At one time, the capacity of short-term memory was identi-
fied with the memory span, which refers to the number of elements one can
immediately repeat back. To test your memory span, have a friend make up
lists of digits of various lengths and read them to you. See how many digits
you can repeat back. You will probably find that you are able to remember
no more than around seven or eight perfectly (in the 1960s, this was consid-
ered convenient because American phone numbers consisted of seven digits).
Thus, many people thought that short-term memory had room for about seven
elements, although some theorists (e.g., Broadbent, 1975) proposed that its
capacity was smaller.
In a typical memory experiment, it was assumed that participants rehearsed
the contents of short-term memory. For instance, in a study of memory span,
participants might rehearse the digits by saying them over and over again to
themselves. It was also assumed that every time an item was rehearsed, there
was a probability that the information would be transferred to a relatively
permanent long-term memory. If the item left short-term memory before a
Sensory
store
Attention
Rehearsal
Short-term
memory
Long-term
memory
FIGURE 6.4 A model of memory
that includes an intermediate
short-term memory. Information
coming in from the environment
is held in a transient sensory
store from which it is lost unless
attended to. Attended information
goes into an intermediate short-
term memory with a limited
capacity to hold information. The
information must be rehearsed
before it can move into a
relatively permanent long-term
memory.
Memory Span
Anderson_8e_Ch06.indd 127 13/09/14 9:43 AM
128 / Chapter 6 Hu M A N M e M o r y : e N C o d I N g A N d S To r A g e
permanent long-term memory representation
was developed, however, it would be lost forever.
One could not keep information in short-term
memory indefinitely because new information
would always be coming in and pushing out
old information from the limited short-term
memory.
An experiment by Shepard and Teghtsoonian
(1961) is a good illustration of these ideas. They
presented participants with a long sequence
of 200 three-digit numbers. The task was to
identify when a number was repeated. The
investigators were interested in how participants’
ability to recognize a repeated number changed
as more numbers intervened between the first
appearance of the number and its repetition.
The number of intervening items is referred to
as the lag. The prediction was that recognition
for numbers with short lag (i.e., the last few numbers presented) would be good
because participants would tend to keep the most recent numbers in short-
term memory. However, memory would get progressively worse as the lag
increased and numbers were pushed out of short-term memory. The level of
recall for numbers with long lag would reflect the amount of information that
got into long-term memory. As shown in Figure 6.5, the results confirmed this
prediction: recognition memory drops off rapidly as the lag increases to 10, but
then the drop-off slows to the point where it appears to be reaching some sort of
asymptote between about 50% and 60%.1 The rapid drop-off can be interpreted
as reflecting the decreasing likelihood that the numbers are being held in short-
term memory.
A critical assumption in this theory was that the amount of rehearsal
controls the amount of information transferred to long-term memory. For
instance, Rundus (1971) asked participants to rehearse out loud and showed
that the more participants rehearsed an item, the more likely they were to
remember it. Data of this sort were perhaps most critical to the theory of short-
term memory because they reflected the fundamental property of short-term
memory: It is a necessary halfway station to long-term memory. Information
has to “do time” in short-term memory to get into long-term memory, and
results like this indicated that the more time done, the more likely information
is to be remembered. In an influential article, Craik and Lockhart (1972) argued
that what was critical was not how long information is rehearsed, but rather the
depth to which it is processed. This theory, called depth of processing, held
that rehearsal improves memory only if the material is rehearsed in a deep and
meaningful way. Passive rehearsal does not result in better memory. A number
of experiments have shown that passive rehearsal results in little improvement
in memory performance. For instance, Glenberg, Smith, and Green (1977)
had participants study a four-digit number for 2 s, then rehearse a word for 2,
6, or 18 s, and then recall the four digits. Participants thought that their task
was to recall the digits and that they were just rehearsing the word to fill the
time. However, they were given a final surprise test for the words. On average,
participants recalled 11%, 7%, and 13% of the words they had rehearsed for 2, 6,
1
0 10 20 30 40 50 60
.9
.8
.7
.6
Lag
p(
“o
ld
”
ol
d)
FIGURE 6.5 results from
Shepard and Teghtsoonian’s
experiment demonstrating that
information cannot be kept
in short-term memory indefi-
nitely because new information
will always be coming in and
pushing out old information.
The probability of an “old”
response to old items is plotted
as a function of the number of
intervening presentations (the
lag) since the last presentation
of a stimulus. (Data from
Shepard & Teghtsoonian, 1961.
Reprinted by permission of the
publisher. © 1961 by the American
Psychological Association.)
1 The level of memory is not really between 50% and 60% (the hit rate) because participants also incor-
rectly indicated that more than 20% of the new items were repeats (the false alarm rate). The level of mem-
ory is really the difference between the hit rate and the false alarm rate.
Levels of Processing
Anderson_8e_Ch06.indd 128 13/09/14 9:43 AM
W o r k I N g M e M o r y H o L d S T H e I N f o r M AT I o N N e e d e d To P e r f o r M A TA S k / 129
and 18 s. Their recall was poor and showed little relationship to the amount of
rehearsal.2 On the other hand, as we saw in Chapter 5, participants’ memories
can be greatly improved if they process material in a deep and meaningful
way. Thus, it seems that amount of rehearsal is not critical to long-term
memory. Rather, it is critical that we process information in a way that is
conducive to setting up a long-term memory trace.
Kapur et al. (1994) did a PET study of the difference between brain
correlates of the deep and shallow processing of words. In the shallow processing
task, participants judged whether the words contained a particular letter; in the
deep processing task, they judged whether the words described living things.
Even though the study time was the same, participants remembered 75% of
the deeply processed words and 57% of the shallowly processed words. Kapur
et al. found that there was greater activation during deep processing in the left
prefrontal regions indicated in Figure 6.1. A number of subsequent studies have
also shown that this region of the brain is more active during deep processing
(for a review, see Wagner, Bunge, & Badre, 2004).
■ Atkinson and Shiffrin’s theory of short-term memory postulated
that as information is rehearsed in a limited-capacity short-term
memory, it is deposited in long-term memory, but what turned out to
be important is how deeply the material is processed.
◆ Working Memory Holds the Information
Needed to Perform a Task
Baddeley’s Theory of Working Memory
Baddeley (1986) proposed a theory of the rehearsal processes that did not tie
them to storage in long-term memory. He hypothesized that there are two
systems, a visuospatial sketchpad and a phonological loop, which he called
“slave systems” for maintaining information, and he speculated that there might
be more such systems. These systems compose part of what he calls working
memory, which is a system for holding information that we need to perform
a task. For instance, try multiplying 35 by 23 in your head. You may find your-
self developing a visual image of part of a written multiplication problem
(visuospatial sketchpad) and you may find yourself rehearsing partial products
like 105 (phonological loop). Figure 6.6 illustrates Baddeley’s overall conception
of how these various slave systems interact. A central executive controls
how the slave systems are used. The central
executive can put information into any of the
slave systems or retrieve information from
them. It can also translate information from
one system to another. Baddeley claimed that
the central executive needs its own temporary
store of information to make decisions about
how to control the slave systems.
The phonological loop has received
much more extensive investigation than the
visuospatial sketchpad. Baddeley proposed that
Central
executive
Phonological
loop
Visuospatial
sketchpad
FIGURE 6.6 Baddeley’s theory of
working memory in which a cen-
tral executive coordinates a set of
slave systems.
2 Although recall memory tends not to be improved by the amount of passive rehearsal, Glenberg
et al. (1977) did show that recognition memory is improved by rehearsal. Recognition memory may de-
pend on a kind of familiarity judgment that does not require creation of new memory traces.
Rehearsal Function
Anderson_8e_Ch06.indd 129 13/09/14 9:43 AM
130 / Chapter 6 Hu M A N M e M o r y : e N C o d I N g A N d S To r A g e
the phonological loop consists of multiple components, including an articulatory
loop and a phonological store. The articulatory loop functions as an “inner voice”
that rehearses verbal information, as when we’re told a phone number and we
rehearse it over and over again while trying to dial it. Many brain-imaging studies
(see Smith & Jonides, 1995, for a review) have found activation in Broca’s area
(the region labeled “J” in the frontal portion of the Chapter 4, Figure 4.1 brain
illustration) when participants are trying to remember a list of items like the digits
making up a phone number, and this activation occurs even if the participants are
not actually talking to themselves. Patients with damage to this region show defi-
cits in tests of short-term memory (Vallar, Di Betta, & Silveri, 1997).
The phonological store is, in effect, an “inner ear” that hears the in-
ner voice and stores the information in a phonological form. It has been pro-
posed that this region is associated with the parietal-temporal region of the
brain (the region labeled “J” in the parietal-temporal region of the Chapter 4,
Figure 4.1 brain illustration). A number of brain-imaging studies have found
activation of this region during the storage of verbal information (Henson,
Burgess, & Frith, 2000; Jonides et al., 1998). Like patients with damage to Broca’s
area, patients with lesions in this region suffer deficits of short-term memory
(Vallar et al., 1997).
One of the most compelling pieces of evidence for the existence of the
articulatory loop is the word length effect (Baddeley, Thomson, & Buchanan,
1975). Read the five words below and then try to repeat them back without
looking at the page:
● wit, sum, harm, bay, top
Most people can do this. Baddeley et al. found that participants were able to
repeat back an average of 4.5 words out of 5 such one-syllable words. Now read
and try to repeat back the following five words:
● university, opportunity, hippopotamus, constitutional, auditorium
Participants were able to recall only an average of 2.6 words out of 5 such five-
syllable words. The crucial factor appears to be how long it takes to say the
word. Vallar and Baddeley (1982) looked at recall for words that varied from
one to five syllables. They also measured how many words of the various
lengths participants could say in a second. Figure 6.7 shows
the results. Note that the percentage of sequences correctly re-
called almost exactly matches the reading rate.
Trying to maintain information in working memory is
much like the effort of entertainers who spin plates on sticks.
The performer will get one plate spinning on one stick, then
another on another stick, then another, and so on. Then he
runs back to the first plate to respin it before it slows down
and falls off, then respins the second, and so on. He can keep
only so many plates spinning at the same time. Baddeley pro-
posed that it is the same situation with respect to working
memory. If we try to keep too many items in working mem-
ory, by the time we get back to rehearse the first one, it will
have decayed to the point that it takes too long to retrieve
and re-rehearse. Baddeley proposed that we can keep about
1.5 to 2.0 seconds’ worth of material rehearsed in the articu-
latory loop.
There is considerable evidence that this articulatory
loop truly involves speech. For instance, the research of
R. Conrad (1964) showed that participants suffered more
0
1 2 3
Number of syllables
Ite
m
s c
or
re
ct
(%
)
% correct
Reading rate
Re
ad
in
g
ra
te
(w
or
ds
/s
)
4 5
0.5
0.7
0.9
1.1
1.3
1.5
1.7
1.9
2.1
2.5
2.3
10
20
30
40
50
60
70
80
90
100
FIGURE 6.7 results of Vallar and
Baddeley’s (1982) experiment
showing the existence of the
articulatory loop. Mean reading
rate and percentage of correct
recall of sequences of five words
are plotted as a function of word
length. (Data from Baddeley,
1986.)
Anderson_8e_Ch06.indd 130 13/09/14 9:43 AM
W o r k I N g M e M o r y H o L d S T H e I N f o r M AT I o N N e e d e d To P e r f o r M A TA S k / 131
confusion when they tried to remember spans that had a high proportion of
rhyming letters (such as BCTHVZ) than when they tried to remember spans
that did not (such as HBKLMW). Also, as we just discussed, there is evidence
for activation in Broca’s area, part of the left prefrontal cortex, during the re-
hearsal of such memories.
One might wonder what the difference is between short-term memory and
Baddeley’s phonological loop. The crucial difference is that processing informa-
tion in the phonological loop is not critical to getting it into long-term memory.
Rather, the phonological loop is just an auxiliary system for keeping informa-
tion available.
■ Baddeley proposed that we have a phonological loop and a
visuospatial sketchpad, both of which are controlled by a central
executive, which are systems for holding information and are part of
working memory.
The Frontal Cortex and Primate Working Memory
The frontal cortex gets larger in the progression from lower mammals,
such as the rat, to higher mammals, such as the monkey, and it shows an
even greater development between the monkey and the human. It has been
known for some time that the frontal cortex plays an important role in tasks
that can be thought of as working-memory tasks. A working-memory task
that has been studied with monkeys is the delayed match-to-sample task,
which is illustrated in Figure 6.8. The monkey is shown an item of food
that is placed in one of two identical wells (Figure 6.8a). Then the wells
are covered, and the monkey is prevented from looking at the scene for a
delay period—typically 10 s (Figure 6.8b). Finally, the monkey is given the
opportunity to retrieve the food, but it must remember in which well it was
hidden (Figure 6.8c). Monkeys with lesions in the frontal cortex cannot
perform this task (Jacobsen, 1935, 1936). A human infant cannot perform
similar tasks until its frontal cortex has matured somewhat, usually at about
1 year of age (Diamond, 1991).
Cue(a) Delay(b) Response(c)
Wrong Right
FIGURE 6.8 An illustration of the delayed match-to-sample task. (a) food is placed in the
well on the right and covered. (b) A curtain is drawn for the delay period. (c) The curtain
is raised, and the monkey can lift the cover from one of the wells. (From Goldman-Rakic,
1987. Reprinted by permission. © 1987 by the American Physiological Society.)
Anderson_8e_Ch06.indd 131 13/09/14 9:43 AM
132 / Chapter 6 Hu M A N M e M o r y : e N C o d I N g A N d S To r A g e
When a monkey must remember where a food item has
been placed, a region called Brodmann area 46 (see Figure 6.9;
also Color Plate 1.1), on the side of the frontal cortex, is in-
volved (Goldman-Rakic, 1988). Lesions in this specific area
produce deficits in this task. It has been shown that neurons
in this region fire only during the delay period of the task,
as if they are keeping information active during that inter-
val. They are inactive before and after the delay. Moreover,
different neurons in that region seem tuned to remembering
objects in different portions of the visual field (Funahashi,
Bruce, & Goldman-Rakic, 1991).
Goldman-Rakic (1992) examined monkey performance
on other tasks that require maintaining other types of infor-
mation over the delay interval. In one task, monkeys had to
remember different objects. For example, the animal would
have to remember to select a red circle, and not a green
square. It appears that a different region of the prefrontal cortex is involved in
this task. Different neurons in this area will fire depending on whether a red
circle or a green square is being remembered. Goldman-Rakic speculated that
the prefrontal cortex is parceled into many small regions, each of which is re-
sponsible for remembering a different kind of information.
Like many neuroscience studies, these experiments are correlational—they
show a relationship between neural activity and memory function, but they
do not show that the neural activity is essential for the memory function. In
an effort to show a causal role, Funahashi, Bruce, and Goldman-Rakic (1993)
trained monkeys to remember the location of objects in their visual field and
then selectively lesioned either part of the right or part of the left prefrontal
cortex. When they lesioned a prefrontal area on the left they found that mon-
keys were no longer able to remember the locations in the right visual field
(recall from Chapter 2 that the left visual field projects to the right hemisphere;
see Figure 2.5). When they lesioned the right hemisphere region, their ability
to remember the location of objects in the left visual field was also impacted.
Thus, it does seem that activity in these prefrontal regions is critical to the
ability to maintain these memories over delays.
E. E. Smith and Jonides (1995) used PET scans to see whether there are
similar areas of activation in humans. When participants held visual informa-
tion in working memory, there was activation in right prefrontal area 47, which
is adjacent to area 46. Their study was one of the first in a large number of neural
imaging studies looking for regions that are active when people maintain infor-
mation in a working-memory task. This research has revealed a stable core of pre-
frontal and parietal regions that are active across many different types of tasks. In
a meta-analysis of 189 fMRI studies, Rottschy et al. (2012) identified the regions
shown in Figure 6.10 and pointed out that activity in these areas occurs across
a range of tasks, not just working-memory tasks. One possibility is that activity
in these areas corresponds to Baddeley’s central executive (see Figure 6.6). Postle
(2006, in press) has argued that this activity may reflect the operation of brain
systems that play a role in controlling the representation of information in more
specialized regions of the brain. For instance, in a visual memory task the infor-
mation may be maintained in visual areas—the analog of Baddeley’s visuospatial
sketchpad—and prefrontal regions like those found by E. E. Smith and Jonides
may control the activation of this information in frontal regions.
■ Different areas of the frontal and parietal cortex appear to be
responsible for maintaining different types of information in working
memory.
4
4
6
6
8
9
9
10
10 12
11 47
45
45
44
8A
8B
46
46
FIGURE 6.9 Lateral views of
the cerebral cortex of a human
(top) and of a monkey (bottom).
Brodmann area 46 is the region
shown in darker color. (From
Goldman-Rakic, 1987. Reprinted
by permission. © 1987 by the
American Physiological Society.)
Anderson_8e_Ch06.indd 132 13/09/14 9:43 AM
A C T I V AT I o N A N d L o N g -T e r M M e M o r y / 133
◆ Activation and Long-Term Memory
So far, we have discussed how information from the environment comes into
working memory and is maintained by rehearsal. There is another source of in-
formation besides the environment, however: long-term memory. For instance,
rather than reading a new phone number and holding it in working memory,
we can retrieve a familiar number and hold it in working memory. Thus, part
of our working memory is formed by information we can quickly access from
long-term memory—something that Ericcson and Kintsch (1995) called long-
term working memory. Similarly, Cowan (2005) argues that working memory
includes the activated subset of long-term memory. The ability to bolster our
working memory with long-term memory information helps explain why the
memory span for meaningful sentences is about twice the span for unrelated
words (Potter & Lombardi, 1990).
Information in long-term memory can vary from moment to moment in
terms of how easy it is to retrieve it into working memory. Various theories
use different words to describe the same basic idea. The language I use in this
chapter is similar to that used in my ACT (adaptive control of thought) theory
(J. R. Anderson, 2007).
An Example of Activation Calculations
Activation determines both the probability that some given piece of informa-
tion will be retrieved from long-term memory and the speed with which that
retrieval will be accomplished. The free-association technique is sometimes
used to get at levels of activation in memory. In free association, a person is pre-
sented with information (e.g., one or more words) and is asked to free-associate
by responding with whatever first comes to mind. The responses can be taken
as reflecting the things that the presented information activates most strongly
among all the currently active information in long-term memory. For example,
what do you think of when you read the three words below?
Bible
animals
flood
If you are like the students in my classes, you will think of the story of Noah.
The curious fact is that when I ask students to associate to just the word Bible,
they come up with such terms as Moses and Jesus—almost never Noah. When
I ask them to associate to just animals, they come up with farm and zoo, but
almost never Noah; and when I ask them to associate to just flood, they come
up with Mississippi and Johnstown (the latter being perhaps a Pittsburgh-specific
FIGURE 6.10 A representation of regions of the brain that consistently activate in a meta-
analysis of 189 fMrI studies. (Rottschy et al., 2012.)
Anderson_8e_Ch06.indd 133 13/09/14 9:43 AM
134 / Chapter 6 Hu M A N M e M o r y : e N C o d I N g A N d S To r A g e
association), but almost never Noah. So why do they come up with Noah when
given all three terms together? Figure 6.11 represents this phenomenon in terms
of activation computations and shows three kinds of things:
● Potential responses: terms that are currently active in long-term memory
and so could potentially come to mind, such as Noah, Moses, Jesus, farm,
zoo, Mississippi, and Johnstown.
● Potential primes: terms that might be used to elicit responses from long-
term memory, such as Bible, animals, and flood.
● The strength of the association between each potential prime and each
potential response: the triangular connections with curved tails.
The ACT theory has an equation to represent how the activation of any poten-
tial response, such as a word or an idea, reflects the strength of associations in a
network like the one in Figure 6.11:
Ai 5 Bi 1 S
j
WjSji
In this equation
● Ai is the activation of any potential response i.
● Bi is the base-level activation of the potential response i before priming.
Some concepts, such as Jesus and Mississippi, are more common than
others, such as Noah, and so would have greater base-level activation.
Just to be concrete, in Figure 6.11 the base-level activation for Jesus and
Mississippi is assumed to be 3 and for Noah is assumed to be 1.
● Wj is the weight given to each potential prime j. For instance, in Figure 6.11
we assume that the weight for any word we present is 1 and that the weight
for any word we do not present is 0. The S indicates that we are summing
over all of the potential primes j.
Strengths of association (Sji)
Baseline activation
(Bi)
Input weight
(Wj)
2
2 2
2
2
2
0
0
0
0
2
Noah1
Moses
Jesus
Farm
Zoo
Mississippi
Johnstown
2
2
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
1 0 0 0 01 1
Bible Animals Flood
3
3
3
3
3
3
FIGURE 6.11 A representation of how activation accumulates in a neural network such
as that assumed in the ACT theory. Activation coming from various stimulus words—such
as Bible, animals, and flood—spreads activation to associated concepts, such as Noah,
Moses, and farm.
Anderson_8e_Ch06.indd 134 13/09/14 9:43 AM
A C T I V AT I o N A N d L o N g -T e r M M e M o r y / 135
● Sji is the strength of the association between any potential prime j and any
potential response i. To keep things simple, in Figure 6.11 we assume that
the strength of association is 2 in the case of related pairs such as Bible–
Jesus and flood–Mississippi and 0 in the case of unrelated pairs such as
Bible–Mississippi and flood–Jesus.
With this equation, these concepts, and these numbers, we can explain why
the students in my class associate Noah when prompted with all three words
but almost never do so when presented with any word individually. Consider
what happens when I present just the word Bible. There is only one prime with
a positive Wj, and this is Bible. In this case, the activation of Noah is
ANoah 5 1 1 (1 3 2) 5 3
where the first 1 is Noah’s base-level activation BNoah, the second 1 is Bible’s
weight WBible, and the 2 is SBible–Noah, the strength of association between Bible
and Noah. In contrast, the associative activation for Jesus is higher because it
has a higher base-level activation, reflecting its greater frequency:
AJesus 5 3 1 (1 3 2) 5 5
The reason Jesus and not Noah comes to mind in this case is that Jesus has
higher activation. Now let’s consider what happens when I present all three
words. The activation of Noah will be
ANoah 5 1 1 (1 3 2) 1 (1 3 2) 1 (1 3 2) 5 7
where there are three (1 3 2)’s because all three of the terms—Bible, animals,
and flood—have associations to Noah. The activation equation for Jesus remains
AJesus 5 3 1 (1 3 2) 5 5
because only Bible has the association with Jesus. Thus, the extra associations to
Noah have raised the current activation of Noah to be greater than the activa-
tion of Jesus, despite the fact that it has lower base-level activation.
There are two critical factors in this activation equation: the base-level
activation, which sets a starting activation for the idea, and the activation re-
ceived through the associations, which adjusts this activation to reflect the cur-
rent context. The next section will explore this associative activation, and the
section after that will discuss the base-level activation.
■ The speed and probability of accessing a memory are determined by
the memory’s level of activation, which in turn is determined by its base-
level activation and the activation it receives from associated concepts.
Spreading Activation
Spreading activation is the term often used to refer to the process by which cur-
rently attended items can make associated memories more available. Many studies
have examined how memories are primed by what we attend to. One of the earliest
was a study by Meyer and Schvaneveldt (1971) in which participants were asked to
judge whether or not both items in a pair were words. Table 6.1 shows examples of
the materials used in their experiments, along with participants’ judgment times.
The items were presented one above the other, and if either item was not a word,
participants were to respond no. The judgment times for the negative pairs suggest
that participants first judged the top item and then the bottom item. When the top
item was not a word, participants were faster to reject the pair than when only the
bottom item was not a word. (When the top item was not a word, participants did
not have to judge the bottom item and so could respond sooner.) The major inter-
est in this study was in the positive pairs, which could consist of unrelated items,
Lexical Decision
Anderson_8e_Ch06.indd 135 13/09/14 9:43 AM
136 / Chapter 6 Hu M A N M e M o r y : e N C o d I N g A N d S To r A g e
such as nurse and butter, or items with an associative relation, such as bread and
butter. Participants were 85 ms faster on the related pairs. This result can be ex-
plained by a spreading-activation analysis. When the participant read the first word
in the related pair, activation would spread from it to the second word, making that
word easier to judge. The implication of this result is that the associative spreading
of information activation through memory can facilitate the rate at which words
are read. Thus, we can read material that has a strong associative coherence more
rapidly than we can read incoherent material where the words seem unrelated.
Kaplan (1989), in his dissertation research, reported an effect of asso-
ciative priming at a very different timescale of information processing. The
“participants” in the study were members of his dissertation committee. I was
one of these participants, and it was a rather memorable and somewhat embar-
rassing experience. He gave us riddles to solve, and each of us was able to solve
about half of them. One of the riddles that I was able to solve was
What goes up a chimney down but can’t come down a chimney up?
The answer is umbrella. Another faculty member was not able to solve this
one, and he has his own embarrassing story to tell about it—much like the one I
have to tell about the following riddle that I could not get:
On this hill there was a green house. And inside the green house there
was a white house. And inside the white house, there was a red house.
And inside the red house there were a lot of little blacks and whites sit-
ting there. What place is this?
More or less randomly, different faculty members were able to solve various
riddles.
Then Kaplan gave us each a microphone and tape recorder and told us that
we would be beeped at various times over the next week. When it beeped we were
supposed to record what we had thought about our unsolved riddles and whether
we had solved any of them. He said that he was interested in the steps by which we
came to solve these problems. That was essentially a lie to cover the true purpose
of the experiment, but it did keep us thinking about the riddles over the week.
What Kaplan had done was to split the riddles each of us could not solve
randomly into two groups. For half of these unsolved problems, he seeded our
environment with clues to the solution. He was quite creative in how he did
this: In the case of the riddle above that I could not solve, he drew a picture of a
watermelon as graffiti in the men’s restroom. Sure enough, shortly after seeing
this graffiti I thought again about this riddle and came up with the answer—
watermelon! I congratulated myself on my great insight, and when I was next
beeped, I proudly recorded how I had solved the problem—quite unaware of
the role the bathroom graffiti had played in my solution.
Positive Pairs Negative Pairs
Unrelated Related
Nonword
First
Nonword
Second
Both
Nonwords
Nurse Bread Plame Wine Plame
Butter Butter Wine Plame reab
940 ms 855 ms 904 ms 1,087 ms 884 ms
from Meyer, d. e., & Schvaneveldt, r. W. (1971). facilitation in recognizing pairs of
words: evidence of a dependence between retrieval operations. Journal of Experimental
Psychology, 90, 227–234. Copyright © 1971 American Psychological Association.
reprinted by permission.
TABLE 6.1 examples of the Pairs used to demonstrate Associative Priming
Spreading Activation
Model
Anderson_8e_Ch06.indd 136 13/09/14 9:43 AM
P r A C T I C e A N d M e M o r y S T r e N g T H / 137
Of course, that might just be one problem and one foolish participant.
Averaged over all the problems and all the participants (which included a Nobel
laureate), however, we were twice as likely to solve those riddles that had been
primed in the environment than those that had not been. Basically, activation
from the primes in the environment spread activation to the solutions and made
them more available when trying to solve the riddles. We were all unaware of
the manipulation that was taking place. This example illustrates the importance
of priming to issues of insight (a topic we will consider at length in Chapter 8)
and also shows that one is not aware of the associative priming that is taking
place, even when one is trained to spot such things, as I am.
■ Activation spreads from presented items through a network to
memories related to that prime item.
◆ Practice and Memory Strength
Spreading activation concerns how the context can make some memories more
available. However, some memories are just more available because they are used
frequently in all contexts. So, for instance, you can recall the names of close friends
almost immediately, anywhere and anytime. The quantity that determines this in-
herent availability of a memory is sometimes referred to as its strength (same thing
as base-level activation in the earlier ACT-R equation). In contrast to the activation
level of a trace, which can have rapid fluctuations depending on whether associ-
ated items are being focused upon, the strength of a trace changes more gradually.
Each time we use a memory trace, it increases a little in strength. The strength of a
trace determines in part how active it can become and hence how accessible it will
be. The strength of a trace can be gradually increased by repeated practice.
The Power Law of Learning
The effects of practice on memory retrieval are extremely regular and very
large. In one study, Pirolli and Anderson (1985) taught participants a set of
facts and had them practice the facts for 25 days; then they looked at the speed
with which the participants could recognize these facts. Figure 6.12a plots how
Re
co
gn
iti
on
ti
m
e
(s
)
1.8
1.6
1.4
1.2
1.0
0.8
0.6
0 10 20 30
Days of practice
0.5
(1.5)
(1.0)
(0.5)
0.3
0.1
– 0.1
– 0.3
– 0.5
– 0.7
0 1 2 3 4
(1) (5) (25)
Log (days of practice)
Lo
g
(re
co
gn
iti
on
ti
m
e)
(a) (b)
FIGURE 6.12 results of
Pirolli and Anderson’s study
to determine the effects of
practice on recognition time.
(a) The time required to rec-
ognize sentences is plotted
as a function of the number
of days of practice. (b) The
data in (a) are log–log trans-
formed to reveal a power
function. The data points are
average times for individual
days, and the curves are the
best-fitting power functions.
(Data from Pirolli & Anderson,
1985.)
Anderson_8e_Ch06.indd 137 13/09/14 9:43 AM
138 / Chapter 6 Hu M A N M e M o r y : e N C o d I N g A N d S To r A g e
participants’ time to recognize a fact decreased with practice. As can be seen,
participants sped up from about 1.6 s to 0.7 s, cutting their retrieval time by
more than 50%. The illustration also shows that the rate of improvement de-
creases with more practice. Increasing practice has diminishing returns. The
data are nicely fit by a power function of the form
T 5 1.40 P20.24
where T is the recognition time and P is the number of days of practice. This
is called a power function because the amount of practice P is being raised to
a power. This power relationship between performance (measured in terms of
response time and several other variables) and amount of practice is a ubiqui-
tous phenomenon in learning. One way to see that data correspond to a power
function is to use log–log coordinates, as shown in Figure 6.12b, where the
logarithm of time (the y-axis) is plotted against the logarithm of practice (the
x-axis). If a function in normal coordinates is indeed a power function, then it
should be a linear function in log–log coordinates. Figure 6.12b shows the data
so transformed. As can be seen, the relationship is quite close to a linear func-
tion (straight line):
ln T 5 0.34 2 0.24 ln P
Newell and Rosenbloom (1981) refer to the way that memory performance
improves as a function of practice as the power law of learning. Figure 6.13
shows some data from Blackburn (1936), who looked at the effects of practicing
addition problems for 10,000 trials by two participants. The data are plotted
in log–log terms, and there is a linear relationship. On this graph and on some
others in this book, the original numbers (i.e., those given in parentheses in
Figure 6.12b) are plotted on the logarithmic scale rather than being expressed
as logarithms. Blackburn’s data show that the power law of learning extends to
amounts of practice far beyond that shown in Figure 6.12. Figures 6.12 and 6.13
reflect the gradual increase in memory-trace strength with practice. As memory
traces become stronger, they can reach higher levels of activation and so can be
retrieved more rapidly.
■ As a memory is practiced, it is strengthened according to a power
function.
22
0.5
1.0
2.0
5.0
5 10 20
Problem number (logarithmic scale)
Ti
m
e
(s
) (
lo
ga
rit
hm
ic
sc
ale
)
50 100 200 500 1000 10,000
FIGURE 6.13 data from
Blackburn’s study on the
effects of practicing addition
problems for 10,000 trials.
The results are presented as
improvement with practice
in the time taken to add two
numbers. data are plotted
separately for two partici-
pants. Both the time required
to solve the problem and
the number of problems are
plotted on a logarithmic scale.
(Plot by Crossman, 1959, of
data from Blackburn, 1936.)
Anderson_8e_Ch06.indd 138 13/09/14 9:43 AM
P r A C T I C e A N d M e M o r y S T r e N g T H / 139
Neural Correlates of the Power Law
What really underlies the power law of learning? Some evidence suggests
that the law may be related to basic changes at the neural level that occur in
response to learning. One kind of neural learning that has attracted much at-
tention is called long-term potentiation (LTP), which occurs in the hippocam-
pus and cortical areas. When a pathway is stimulated with a high-frequency
electric current, cells along that pathway show increased sensitivity to further
stimulation. Barnes (1979) looked at LTP in rats by stimulating the hippocam-
pus each day for 11 successive days and measuring the percentage increase
in excitatory postsynaptic potential (EPSP) over its initial value.3 The results
shown in Figure 6.14a indicate a diminishing increase in LTP as the amount of
practice increases. The linear log–log plot in Figure 6.14b shows that the rela-
tionship is approximately a power function. Thus, it does seem that neural acti-
vation changes with practice in the same way that behavioral measures do.
Note that the activation measure shown in Figure 6.14a increases more and
more slowly, whereas recognition time (see Figure 6.12a) decreases more and
more slowly. In other words, a performance measure such as recognition time
is an inverse reflection of the growth of strength that is happening internally.
As the strength of the memory increases, the performance measures improve
(which means shorter recognition times and fewer errors). You remember
something faster after you’ve thought about it more often.
The hippocampal region being observed here is the area that was dam-
aged in the fictional Leonard character in the movie Memento, discussed at the
beginning of the chapter. Damage to this region often results in amnesia. Studies
of the effects of practice on participants without brain damage have found that
activation in the hippocampus and the prefrontal regions decreases as partici-
pants become more practiced at retrieving memories (Kahn & Wagner, 2002).4
Ch
an
ge
(%
)
50
40
30
20
10
0 2 4 6 8 10
Days of practice
Lo
g
(c
ha
ng
e)
3.8
3.6
3.4
3.2
3.0
2.8
2.6
0 1 2 3
Log (days of practice)(a) (b)
FIGURE 6.14 results from
Barnes’s study of long-
term potentiation (LTP)
demonstrating that when a
neural pathway is stimulated,
cells along that pathway
show increased sensitivity
to further stimulation. The
growth in LTP is plotted as a
function of number of days
of practice (a) in normal
scale and (b) in log–log
scale. (Data from Barnes,
1979.)
3 As discussed in Chapter 1, the difference in electric potential between the outside and inside of the cell
decreases as the dendrite and cell body of a neuron become more excited. EPSP is described as increasing
when this difference decreases.
4 Note that neural activation decreases with practice because it takes less effort to retrieve the memory.
This can be a bit confusing—greater trace activation resulting from practice results in lower brain activa-
tion. This happens because trace activation reflects the availability of the memory, whereas brain activa-
tion reflects the hemodynamic expenditure required to retrieve the memory. Trace activation and brain
activation refer to different concepts.
Basic Hebbian Learning
Anderson_8e_Ch06.indd 139 13/09/14 9:43 AM
140 / Chapter 6 Hu M A N M e M o r y : e N C o d I N g A N d S To r A g e
The relationship between the hippocampus and regions of the prefron-
tal cortex is interesting. In normal participants, these regions are often active
at the same time, as they were in the Kahn and Wagner study. It is generally
thought (e.g., Paller & Wagner, 2002) that processing activity in prefrontal
regions regulates input to hippocampal regions that store the memories.
Patients with hippocampal damage show the same prefrontal activation as
normal people do, but because of the hippocampal damage, they fail to store
these memories (R. L. Buckner, personal communication, 1998).
Two studies illustrating the role of the prefrontal cortex in forming new
memories in normal participants (i.e., without hippocampal damage) ap-
peared back-to-back in the same issue of Science magazine. One study (Wagner
et al., 1998) investigated memory for words; the other (J. B. Brewer, Zhao,
Desmond, Glover, & Gabrieli, 1998) investigated memory for pictures. In both
cases, participants remembered some of the items and forgot others. Using
fMRI measures of the hemodynamic response, the researchers contrasted the
brain activation at the time of study for those words and pictures that were
subsequently remembered and those that were subsequently forgotten. Wagner
et al. found that activity in left prefrontal regions was predictive of memory for
words (see Figure 6.15a), whereas J. B. Brewer et al. found that activity in right
prefrontal regions was predictive of memory for pictures (see Figure 6.15b). In
both parts of Figure 6.15, the rise in the hemodynamic response is plotted as a
function of the time from stimulus presentation. As discussed in Chapter 1, the
hemodynamic response lags, so that it is at maximum about 5 s after the actual
neural activity. The correspondence between the results from the two labora-
tories is striking. In both cases, remembered items received greater activation
from the prefrontal regions, supporting the conclusion that prefrontal activation
(a)
0
100
90
70
80
60
50
40
30
20
10
0
2 4 6 8 1210
Remembered
Forgotten
Time from stimulus (s)
He
m
od
yn
am
ic
re
sp
on
se
(%
o
f m
ax
im
um
)
(b)
0
100
90
80
70
60
50
40
30
20
10
0
2 4
Time from stimulus (s)
He
m
od
yn
am
ic
re
sp
on
se
(%
o
f m
ax
im
um
)
6 8 1210
Remembered
Forgotten
FIGURE 6.15 results from two
studies illustrating the role of
the prefrontal cortex in forming
new memories. (a) data from
the study by Wagner et al. show
the rise in the hemodynamic re-
sponse in the left prefrontal cortex
while participants studied words
that were subsequently remem-
bered or forgotten. (b) data from
the study by Brewer et al. show
the rise in the hemodynamic
response in the right prefrontal
cortex while participants studied
pictures that were subsequently
remembered or forgotten.
(a: Data from Wagner et al., 1998.
b: Data from J. B. Brewer et al.,
1998.)
Anderson_8e_Ch06.indd 140 13/09/14 9:43 AM
fA C To r S I N f L u e N C I N g M e M o r y / 141
is indeed critical for storing a memory successfully.5 Also, note that these studies
are a good example of the lateralization of prefrontal processing, with verbal
material involving the left hemisphere to a greater extent and visual material in-
volving the right hemisphere to a greater extent.
■ Activation in prefrontal regions appears to drive long-term poten-
tiation in the hippocampus. This activation results in the creation
and strengthening of memories.
◆ Factors Influencing Memory
A reasonable inference from the preceding discussion might be that the only
thing determining memory performance is how much we study and practice.
However, mere study of material will not lead to better recall. How we pro-
cess the material while studying it is important. We saw in Chapter 5 that more
meaningful processing of material results in better recall. Earlier in this chapter,
with respect to Craik and Lockhart’s (1972) depth-of-processing proposal, we re-
viewed the evidence that shallow study results in little memory improvement. As
a different demonstration of the same point, D. L. Nelson (1979) had participants
read paired associates that were either semantic associates (e.g., tulip–flower) or
rhymes (e.g., tower–flower). Better memory (81% recall) was obtained for the
semantic associates than for the rhymes (70% recall). Presumably, participants
tended to process the semantic associates more meaningfully than the rhymes. In
Chapter 5, we also saw that people retain more meaningful information better. In
this section, we will review some other factors, besides depth of processing and
meaningfulness of the material, that determine our level of memory.
Elaborative Processing
There is evidence that more elaborative processing results in better memory.
Elaborative processing involves thinking of information that relates to and
expands on the information that needs to be remembered. For instance, my
graduate advisor and I (J. R. Anderson & Bower, 1973) did an experiment that
demonstrated the importance of elaboration. We had participants try to re-
member simple sentences such as The doctor hated the lawyer. In one condition,
participants just studied the sentence; in the other, they were asked to generate
an elaboration of their choosing—such as because of the malpractice suit. Later,
participants were presented with the subject and verb of the original sentence
(e.g., The doctor hated) and were asked to recall the object (e.g., the lawyer).
Participants who just studied the original sentences were able to recall 57% of
the objects, but those who generated the elaborations recalled 72%. This ad-
vantage resulted from the redundancy created by the elaboration. If the partici-
pants could not originally recall lawyer but could recall the elaboration because
of the malpractice suit, they might then be able to recall lawyer.
A series of experiments by B. S. Stein and Bransford (1979) showed why self-
generated elaborations are often better than experimenter-provided elaborations.
In one of these experiments, participants were asked to remember 10 sentences,
such as The fat man read the sign. There were four conditions of study.
● In the base condition, participants studied just the sentence.
● In the self-generated elaboration condition, participants were asked to
continue the sentence with an elaboration of their own.
5 Greater hemodynamic activation at study results in a stronger memory—which, as we noted, can lead to
reduced hemodynamic activation at test.
Anderson_8e_Ch06.indd 141 13/09/14 9:43 AM
142 / Chapter 6 Hu M A N M e M o r y : e N C o d I N g A N d S To r A g e
● In the imprecise elaboration condition, participants were given a continu-
ation that was poorly related to the meaning of the sentence, such as that
was two feet tall.
● In the precise elaboration condition, participants were given a continuation
that gave context to the sentence, such as warning about the ice.
After studying the material, participants in all conditions were presented with
such sentence frames as The _______ man read the sign, and they had to re-
call the missing adjective. Participants recalled 4.2 of the 10 adjectives in the
base condition and 5.8 of the 10 when they generated their own elaborations.
Obviously, the self-generated elaborations had helped. Participants could recall
only 2.2 of the adjectives in the imprecise elaboration condition, replicating the
typical inferiority found for experimenter-provided elaborations relative to self-
generated ones. However, participants recalled the most (7.8 of 10 adjectives) in
the precise elaboration condition. So, by careful choice of words, experimenter
elaborations can be made better than those of participants. (For further re-
search on this topic, read Pressley, McDaniel, Turnure, Wood, & Ahmad, 1987.)
It appears that the critical factor is not whether the participant or the ex-
perimenter generates the elaborations but whether the elaborations prompt the
material to be recalled. Participant-generated elaborations are effective because
they reflect the idiosyncratic constraints of each particular participant’s knowl-
edge. As B. S. Stein and Bransford demonstrated, however, it is possible for the
experimenter to construct elaborations that facilitate even better recall.
Otten, Henson, and Rugg (2001) noted that the prefrontal and hippocam-
pal regions involved in memory for material that is processed meaningfully and
elaborately seem to be the same regions that are involved in memory for mate-
rial that is processed shallowly. High activity in these regions is predictive of
subsequent recall for all kinds of material (see Figure 6.15). Elaborative, more
meaningful processing tends to evoke higher levels of activation than shallow
processing (Wagner et al., 1998). Thus, it appears that meaningful, elaborate
processing is effective because it is better at driving the brain processes that re-
sult in successful recall.
■ Memory for material improves when it is processed with more
meaningful elaborations.
Techniques for Studying Textual Material
Frase (1975) found evidence of the benefit of elaborative processing with text
material. He compared how participants in two groups remembered text: One
group was given what are called “advance organizers” (Ausubel, 1968), ques-
tions to think about before reading the text. They were asked to find answers
to the advance questions as they read the text. Answering the questions should
have forced them to process the text more carefully and to think about its im-
plications. The group was compared to a control group that simply read the text
in preparation for the subsequent test. The advance-organizer group answered
64% of the questions correctly, whereas the control group answered only 57%
correctly. The questions in the test were either relevant or irrelevant to the ad-
vance organizers. For instance, a test question about an event that precipitated
America’s entry into World War II would be considered relevant if the ad-
vance questions directed participants to learn why America entered the war. A
test question would be considered irrelevant if the advance questions directed
participants to learn about the economic consequences of World War II. The
advance-organizer group correctly answered 76% percent of the relevant ques-
tions and 52% of the irrelevant ones. Thus, they did only slightly worse than the
Anderson_8e_Ch06.indd 142 13/09/14 9:43 AM
fA C To r S I N f L u e N C I N g M e M o r y / 143
control group on topics for which they had been given only irrelevant advance
questions but did much better on topics for which they had been given relevant
advance questions.
Many college study-skills departments, as well as private firms, offer
courses designed to improve students’ memory for text material. These courses
teach study techniques mainly for texts such as those used in the social sciences,
not for the denser texts used in the physical sciences and mathematics or for
literary materials such as novels. The study techniques from different programs
are rather similar, and their success has been fairly well documented. One ex-
ample of such a study technique is the PQ4R method (Thomas & Robinson,
1972). The Implications box in Chapter 1 described a slight variation on this
technique as a method for studying this book.
The PQ4R method derives its name from the six phases it advocates for
studying a chapter in a textbook:
1. Preview: Survey the chapter to determine the general topics being dis-
cussed. Identify the sections to be read as units. Apply the next four steps
to each section.
2. Questions: Make up questions about each section. Often, simply trans-
forming section headings results in adequate questions.
3. Read: Read each section carefully, trying to answer the questions you have
made up about it.
4. Reflect: Reflect on the text as you are reading it. Try to understand it, to
think of examples, and to relate the material to your prior knowledge.
5. Recite: After finishing a section, try to recall the information contained in
it. Try to answer the questions you made up for the section. If you cannot
recall enough, reread the portions you had trouble remembering.
6. Review: After you have finished the chapter, go through it mentally,
recalling its main points. Again try to answer the questions you made up.
The central features of the PQ4R technique are the generation and answering
of questions. There is reason to think that the most important aspect of these
features is that they encourage deeper and more elaborative processing of the
text material. At the beginning of this section, we reviewed the Frase (1975) ex-
periment that demonstrated the benefit of reading a text with a set of advance
questions in mind. It seems that the benefit was specific to test items related to
the questions.
An important aspect of such techniques is testing ones memory rather
than simply studying the material. As Marsh and Butler (2013) review,
memory researchers have documented the special benefits of testing for over
a century, but only recently has their educational im-
portance been emphasized. In one demonstration,
Roediger and Karpicke (2006) had participants study
prose pages from the reading comprehension section of
a test-preparation book for the Test of English as a For-
eign Language. After studying the passage a first time,
participants were either given an opportunity to study
the passage again for 7 minutes or given an equal 7
minutes to recall the passage. Then a retention test was
given after various delays. Figure 6.16 shows that there
was little difference in when the test was given after a
delay of just 5 minutes but that, as the delay increased,
there was an increasing advantage for the group that
was given the additional test opportunity. If you are like
many students (Karpicke, Butler, & Roediger, 2009) you
will study for a test by rereading the material. However,
Retention interval
5 minutes 2 days 1 week
Pr
op
or
tio
n
of
id
ea
u
ni
ts
re
ca
lle
d
0.4
0.5
0.6
0.7
0.8 Study, Study
Study, Test
FIGURE 6.16 Mean proportion of
idea units recalled on the final test
after a 5-min, 2-day, or 1-week
retention interval as a function
of learning condition (additional
studying vs. initial testing). (Data
from Roediger & Karpicke, 2006.)
Anderson_8e_Ch06.indd 143 13/09/14 9:43 AM
144 / Chapter 6 Hu M A N M e M o r y : e N C o d I N g A N d S To r A g e
results like these suggest that you should consider inserting a self-test into your
study regimen.
■ Study techniques that involve generating and answering questions
lead to better memory for text material.
Incidental Versus Intentional Learning
So far, we have talked about factors that affect memory. Now we will turn to a
factor that does not affect memory, despite people’s intuitions to the contrary:
It does not seem to matter whether people intend to learn the material; what
is important is how they process it. This fact is illustrated in an experiment by
Hyde and Jenkins (1973) in which participants were asked to perform what was
called an orienting task while studying a list of words. For one group of par-
ticipants, the orienting task was to check whether each word had a letter e or a
letter g. For the other group, the task was to rate the pleasantness of the words.
It is reasonable to assume that the pleasantness rating involved more meaning-
ful and deeper processing than the letter-verification task. Another variable was
whether participants were told that the true purpose of the experiment was to
learn the words. Half the participants in each group were told the true purpose
of the experiment (the intentional-learning condition). The other half of par-
ticipants in each group thought the true purpose of the experiment was to rate
the words or check for letters (the incidental-learning condition). Thus, there
were four conditions: pleasantness-intentional, pleasantness-incidental, letter
checking-intentional, and letter checking-incidental.
After seeing the words, all participants were asked to recall as many words
as they could. Table 6.2 presents the results from this experiment in terms of
percentage of the 24 words recalled. Two results are noteworthy. First, partici-
pants’ knowledge of the true purpose of studying the words had relatively little
effect on performance. Second, a large depth-of-processing effect was dem-
onstrated; that is, participants showed much better recall in the pleasantness
rating condition, independent of whether they expected to be tested on the ma-
terial later. In rating a word for pleasantness, participants had to think about its
meaning, which gave them an opportunity to elaborate upon the word.
The Hyde and Jenkins (1973) experiment illustrates an important finding
that has been proved over and over again in the research on intentional versus in-
cidental learning: Whether a person intends to learn or not really does not matter
(see Postman, 1964, for a review). What matters is how the person processes the
material during its presentation. If one engages in identical mental activities when
processing the material, one gets identical memory performance whether one is
intending to learn the material or not. People typically show better memory when
they intend to learn because they are likely to en-
gage in activities more conducive to good memory,
such as rehearsal and elaborative processing. The
small advantage for participants in the intentional-
learning condition of the Hyde and Jenkins experi-
ment may reflect some small variation in process-
ing. Experiments in which great care is taken to
control processing find that intention to learn or
amount of motivation to learn has no effect (see
T. O. Nelson, 1976).
There is an interesting everyday example of
the relationship between intention to learn and
type of processing. Many students claim they find
Words Recalled (%)
Orienting Task
Learning-Purpose
Conditions
Rate
Pleasantness Check Letters
Incidental 68 39
Intentional 69 43
reprinted from Hyde, T. S., & Jenkins, J. J. (1973). recall for words
as a function of semantic, graphic, and syntactic orienting tasks.
Journal of Verbal Learning and Verbal Behavior, 12, 471–480.
Copyright © 1973 with permission of elsevier.
TABLE 6.2 Words recalled as a function of orienting Task
and Participant Awareness of Learning Task
Anderson_8e_Ch06.indd 144 13/09/14 9:43 AM
fA C To r S I N f L u e N C I N g M e M o r y / 145
How does the method of loci
help us organize recall?
Mental imagery is an effective
method for developing meaningful
elaborations. A classic mnemonic
technique, the method of loci,
depends heavily on visual imagery
and the use of spatial knowledge to
organize recall. This technique, used
extensively in ancient times when
speeches were given without writ-
ten notes or teleprompters, is still
used today. Cicero (in De Oratore)
credits the method to a greek poet,
Simonides, who had recited a lyric
poem at a banquet. After his deliv-
ery, he was called from the banquet
hall by the gods Castor and Pollux,
whom he had praised in his poem.
While he was absent, the roof fell in,
killing all the people at the banquet.
The corpses were so mangled that
relatives could not identify them.
Simonides was able to identify each
corpse, however, according to where
each person had been sitting in the
banquet hall. This feat of total recall
convinced Simonides of the useful-
ness of an orderly arrangement of
locations into which a person could
place objects to be remembered.
This story may be rather fanciful,
but whatever its true origin, the
method of loci is well documented
(e.g., Christen & Bjork, 1976; ross
& Lawrence, 1968) as a useful
technique for remembering an or-
dered sequence of items, such as
the points a person wants to make
in a speech.
To use the method of loci, one
imagines a specific path through a
familiar area with some fixed loca-
tions along the path. for instance, if
we were familiar with a path from a
bookstore to a library, we might use
it. To remember a series of objects,
we simply walk along the path men-
tally, associating the objects with
the fixed locations. As an example,
consider a grocery list of six items—
milk, hot dogs, dog food, tomatoes,
bananas, and bread. To associate
the milk with the bookstore, we
might imagine books lying in a pud-
dle of milk in front of the bookstore.
To associate hot dogs with a coffee
shop (the next location on the path
from the bookstore), we might im-
agine someone stirring their coffee
with a hot dog. The pizza shop is
next, and to associate it with dog
food, we might imagine a dog-food
pizza (well, some people even like
anchovies). Then we come to an in-
tersection; to associate it with toma-
toes, we can imagine an overturned
vegetable truck with tomatoes splat-
tered everywhere. Next we come to
a bicycle shop and create an image
of a bicyclist eating a banana. finally,
we reach the library and associate it
with bread by imagining a huge loaf
of bread serving as a canopy under
which we must pass to enter. To
re-create the list, we need only take
an imaginary walk down this path,
reviving the association for each
location. This technique works well
even with very much longer lists; all
we need is more locations. There is
considerable evidence (e.g., Christen
& Bjork, 1976) that the same loci
can be used over and over again in
the learning of different lists.
Two important principles underlie
this method’s effectiveness. first, the
technique imposes organization on
an otherwise unorganized list. We
are guaranteed that if we follow the
mental path at the time of recall, we
will pass all the locations for which
we created associations. The second
principle is that imagining connec-
tions between the locations and
the items forces us to process the
material meaningfully, elaboratively,
and by use of visual imagery.
I m p l I c a t I o n s
▼
Da
ni
ta
D
el
im
on
t/G
et
ty
Im
ag
es
.
▲
it easier to remember material from a novel, which they are not trying to re-
member, than from a textbook, which they are trying to remember. The reason
is that students find a typical novel much easier to elaborate on, and a good
novel invites such elaborations (e.g., Why did the suspect deny knowing the
victim?).
■ Level of processing, and not whether one intends to learn,
determines the amount of material remembered.
Flashbulb Memories
Although it does not appear that intention to learn affects memory, a different
question is whether people display better memory for events that are impor-
tant to them. One class of research involves flashbulb memories—events so
Anderson_8e_Ch06.indd 145 13/09/14 9:43 AM
146 / Chapter 6 Hu M A N M e M o r y : e N C o d I N g A N d S To r A g e
important that they seem to burn themselves into memory forever (Brown &
Kulik, 1977). The event these researchers used as an example was the assassi-
nation of President Kennedy in 1963, which was a particularly traumatic event
for Americans of their generation. They found that most people still had vivid
memories of the event 13 years later. They proposed that we have a special bi-
ological mechanism to guarantee that we will remember those things that are
particularly important to us. The interpretation of this result is problematic,
however, because Brown and Kulik did not really have any way to assess the ac-
curacy of the reported memories.
Since the Brown and Kulik proposal, a number of studies have been done
to determine what participants remembered about a traumatic event im-
mediately after it occurred and what they remembered later. For instance,
McCloskey, Wible, and Cohen (1988) did a study involving the 1986 space shut-
tle Challenger explosion. At that time, many people felt that this was a particu-
larly traumatic event they had watched with horror on television. McCloskey
et al. interviewed participants 1 week after the incident and then again
9 months later. Nine months after the accident, one participant reported:
When I first heard about the explosion I was sitting in my freshman
dorm room with my roommate and we were watching TV. It came on
a news flash and we were both totally shocked. I was really upset and
I went upstairs to talk to a friend of mine and then I called my parents.
(Neisser & Harsch, 1992, p. 9)
McCloskey et al. found that although participants reported vivid memories
9 months after the event, their reports were actually often inaccurate. For in-
stance, the participant just quoted had actually learned about the Challenger ex-
plosion in class a day after it happened and then watched it on television.
Palmer, Schreiber, and Fox (1991) came to a somewhat different con-
clusion in a study of memories of the 1989 San Francisco earthquake. They
compared participants who had actually experienced the earthquake first-
hand with those who had only watched it on TV. Those who had experienced
it in person showed much superior long-term memory of the event. Con-
way et al. (1994) argued that McCloskey et al. (1988) failed to find a memory
advantage in the Challenger study because their participants did not have
true flashbulb memories. They contended that flashbulb memories are pro-
duced only if the event was consequential to the individual remembering it.
Hence, only people who actually experienced the San Francisco earthquake,
and not those who saw it on TV, had flashbulb memories of the event. Conway
et al. studied memory for Margaret Thatcher’s resignation as prime minister of
the United Kingdom in 1990. They compared participants from the United King-
dom, the United States, and Denmark, all of whom had followed news reports of
the resignation. It turned out that 11 months later, 60% of the participants from
the United Kingdom showed perfect memory for the events surrounding the
resignation, whereas only 20% of those who did not live in the United Kingdom
showed perfect memory. Conway et al. argued that this was because the Thatcher
resignation was really consequential only for the U.K. participants.
On September 11, 2001, Americans suffered a particularly traumatic event,
the terrorist attacks that have come to be known simply as “9/11.” A number of
studies were undertaken to study the effects of these events on memory. Talarico
and Rubin (2003) report a study of the memories of students at Duke University
for details of the terrorist attacks (flashbulb memories) versus details of ordi-
nary events that happened that day. The students were contacted and tested for
their memories the morning after the attacks. They were then tested again either
1 week later, 6 weeks later, or 42 weeks later. Figure 6.17 shows both the recall
of details that are consistent with what they said the morning after and recall of
Anderson_8e_Ch06.indd 146 13/09/14 9:43 AM
fA C To r S I N f L u e N C I N g M e M o r y / 147
details that were inconsistent (presumably false memories). By
neither measure is there any evidence that the flashbulb mem-
ories were better retained than the everyday memories.
Sharot, Martorella, Delgado, and Phelps (2007) reported
a study of people who were in Manhattan, where the Twin
Towers were struck on 9/11. The study was performed 3
years after the attack, and people were asked to recall the
events from the attack and events from the summer before.
Because the study was 3 years after the event, and they could
not verify participants’ memories for accuracy but they could
study their brain responses while they were recalling the
events, Sharot et al. also interviewed the participants to find
out where they were in Manhattan when the Twin Towers
were struck. They broke the participants into two groups—
a downtown group who were approximately 2 miles away
and a midtown group who were approximately 5 miles away.
They focused on activity in the amygdala, which is a brain
structure known to reflect emotional response. They found greater amygdala
activation in the downtown group when they were recalling events from 9/11
than in the midtown group. This is significant because there is evidence that
amygdala activity enhances retention (Phelps, 2004). In a state of arousal, the
amygdala releases hormones that influence the processing in the hippocampus
that is critical in forming memories (McGaugh & Roozendaal, 2002).
Hirst and 17 other authors (2009) report a very extensive study of mem-
ory of 9/11 events, involving over 3,000 individuals from seven American
cities. They conducted three surveys: 1 week after the attack, 11 months later,
and 35 months later. Like Talarico and Rubin (2003), they found significant
forgetting, not inconsistent with the amount of forgetting one might see for
ordinary memories. However, in a detailed analysis of their results, they
found evidence for some nuanced elaborations on this conclusion. First, par-
ticipants’ memories for their strong emotional reactions elicited by the 9/11
events were quite poor compared to memories for the 9/11 events themselves.
Second, when one examines the memories for the 9/11 events (see Table 6.3),
one sees an interesting pattern. Some facts, such as the names of the air-
lines, show a rather continuous decline, but there is little forgetting for other
facts, such as the crash sites. The most interesting pattern concerns mem-
ory for where President Bush was when the attack occurred, which shows
a drop from Survey 1 to Survey 2 but a rise from Survey 2 to Survey 3. As
Table 6.3 indicates, a significant factor is whether the participants had seen
Nu
m
be
r o
f d
et
ail
s
12
10
8
6
4
2
0
1 7 42
Inconsistent
Consistent
Flashbulb
Everyday
224
Days since 9/11 (log scale)
FIGURE 6.17 The mean number
of consistent and inconsistent
details for the flashbulb and
everyday memories. (Talarico,
J. M., & Rubin, D. C. (2003).
Confidence, not consistency,
characterizes flashbulb memo-
ries. Psychological Science, 14,
455–461. Copyright © 2003 Sage.
Reprinted by permission.)
TABLE 6.3 Accuracy of Memories for facts about 9/11 Attack
Fact Survey 1 Survey 2 Survey 3
Number of planes 0.94 0.86 0.81
Airline names 0.86 0.69 0.57
Crash sites 0.93 0.92 0.88
order of events 0.88 0.89 0.86
Location of President Bush 0.87 0.57 0.81
Saw Michael Moore’s film 0.87 0.60 0.91
did not see film 0.86 0.54 0.71
overall 0.88 0.77 0.78
data from Hirst et al., 2009.
Anderson_8e_Ch06.indd 147 13/09/14 9:43 AM
148 / Chapter 6 Hu M A N M e M o r y : e N C o d I N g A N d S To r A g e
Michael Moore’s film Fahrenheit 911, which had been released during the
interval between Survey 2 and Survey 3. The film features the fact that Bush
was reading a storybook called “The Pet Goat” to children in a Florida ele-
mentary school at the time. Those participants who saw the movie showed
a strong boost on the third survey in their ability to remember the location
of President Bush. More generally, Hirst et al. tracked the reporting of 9/11
events in the media and found that this factor had a strong influence on peo-
ple’s memory for the events. They also found a relationship between how
much people remembered and how often they talked about specific events.
This suggests that to the extent there is improved memory for flashbulb
events, it may be produced by rehearsal of the events in the media and in
conversations. The reason why people close to a traumatic event sometimes
show better memory (such as in the Conway study about Thatcher’s resigna-
tion) may be because it continues to be replayed in the media and rehearsed
in conversation.
■ People report better memories for particularly traumatic events,
but these memories seem no different than other memories.
◆ Conclusions
This chapter has focused on the processes involved in getting information into
memory. We saw that a great deal of information gets registered in sensory
memory, but relatively little can be maintained in working memory and even
less survives for long periods of time. However, an analysis of what actually
gets stored in long-term memory really needs to consider how that information
is retained and retrieved—which is the topic of the next chapter. Many of the
issues considered in this chapter are complicated by retrieval issues. This is cer-
tainly true for the effects of elaborative processing that we have just discussed.
There are important interactions between how a memory is processed at study
and how it is processed at test. Even in this chapter, we were not able to discuss
the effects of such factors as practice without discussing the activation-based
retrieval processes that are facilitated by these factors. Chapter 7 will also have
more to say about the activation of memory traces.
Questions for Thought
1. Many people write notes on their bodies to re-
member things like phone numbers. In the movie
Memento, Leonard tattoos information that he
wants to remember on his body. Describe in-
stances where storing information on the body
works like sensory memory, where it is like
working memory, and where it is like long-term
memory.
2. The chapter mentions a colleague of mine
who was stuck solving the riddle “What goes
up a chimney down but can’t come down a chim-
ney up?” How would you have seeded the envi-
ronment to subconsciously prime a solution to
the riddle? To see what Kaplan did, read
J. R. Anderson (2007, pp. 93–94).
3. Figures 6.12 and 6.13 show how memories im-
prove when an experimenter has participants
practice facts many times. Can you describe situa-
tions in your schooling where this sort of practice
happened to improve your memory for facts?
4. Think of the most traumatic events you have
experienced. How have you rehearsed and elabo-
rated upon these events? What influence might
such rehearsal and elaboration have on these
memories? Could they cause you to remember
things that did not happen?
Anderson_8e_Ch06.indd 148 13/09/14 9:43 AM
C o N C L u S I o N S / 149
Key Terms
activation
ACT (adaptive control of
thought)
anterograde amnesia
articulatory loop
associative spreading
auditory sensory store
central executive
depth of processing
echoic memory
elaborative processing
flashbulb memories
iconic memory
long-term potentiation
(LTP)
memory span
method of loci
partial-report
procedure
phonological loop
power function
power law of learning
short-term memory
spreading activation
strength
visual sensory store
visuospatial sketchpad
whole-report procedure
working memory
Anderson_8e_Ch06.indd 149 13/09/14 9:43 AM
150
Popular fiction sometimes includes a protagonist who is unable to recall some crit-
ical memory—either because of a head injury or because of repression of some
traumatic experience, or just because the passage of time has seemed to erase the
memory. The critical turning event in the story occurs when the protagonist is able
to recover the memory—perhaps because of hypnosis, clinical treatment, returning
to an old context, or (particularly improbable) being hit on the head again. Although
our everyday struggles with our memory are seldom so dramatic, we all have had
experiences with memories that are just on the edge of availability. For instance, try
remembering the name of someone who sat beside you in class in grade school
or a teacher of a class. Many of us can picture the person but will experience a real
struggle with retrieving that person’s name—a struggle at which we may or may not
succeed. This chapter will answer the following questions:
● How does memory for information fade with the passage of time?
● How do other memories interfere with the retrieval of a desired memory?
● How can other memories support the retrieval of a desired memory?
● How does a person’s internal and external context influence the recall of a
memory?
● How can our past experiences influence our behavior without our being able to
recall these experiences?
◆ Are Memories Really Forgotten?
Figure 7.1 identifies the prefrontal and temporal structures that have proved
important in studies of memory (compare to Chapter 6, Figure 6.1, for an al-
ternative representation). This chapter will focus more on the temporal (and
particularly the hippocampal) contributions to memory, which play a major
role in retention of memory. An early study on the role of the temporal cortex
in memory seemed to provide evidence that forgotten memories are still there
even though we cannot retrieve them. As part of a neurosurgical procedure,
Penfield (1959) electrically stimulated portions of patients’ brains and asked
them to report what they experienced (patients were conscious during the sur-
gery, but the stimulation was painless). In this way, Penfield determined the
functions of various portions of the brain. Stimulation of the temporal lobes
led to reports of memories that patients were unable to report in normal recall,
such as events from childhood. This seemed to provide evidence that much
of what seems forgotten is still stored in memory. Unfortunately, it is hard to
know whether the patients’ memory reports were accurate because there is
no way to verify whether the reported events actually occurred. Therefore,
7
Human Memory: Retention
and Retrieval
Anderson_8e_Ch07.indd 150 13/09/14 9:52 AM
A r e M e M o r i e s r e A l ly F o r g oT T e n ? / 151
although suggestive, the Penfield experiments are generally discounted by
memory researchers.
A better experiment, conducted by Nelson (1971), also indicated that
forgotten memories still exist. He had participants learn a list of 20 paired
associates, each consisting of a number for which the participant had to recall
a noun (e.g. 43-dog). The subjects studied the list and were tested on it until
they could recall all the items without error. Participants returned for a retest
2 weeks later and were able to recall 75% percent of the associated nouns when
cued with the numbers. However, the research question concerned the 25%
that they could no longer recall—were these items really forgotten? Participants
were given new learning trials on the 20 paired associates. The paired associ-
ates they had missed were either kept the same or changed. For example, if a
participant had learned 43-dog but failed to recall the response dog to 43, he or
she might now be trained on either 43-dog (unchanged) or 43-house (changed).
Participants were tested after studying the new list once. If the participants had
lost all memory for the forgotten pairs, there should have been no difference
between recall of changed and unchanged pairs. However, participants cor-
rectly recalled 78% of the unchanged items formerly missed, but only 43% of
the changed items. This large advantage for unchanged items indicates that
participants had retained some memory of the original paired associates, even
though they had been unable to recall them initially.
J. D. Johnson, McDuff, Rugg, and Norman (2009) report a brain-imaging
study that also shows there are records of experiences in our brain that we can
no longer remember. Participants saw a list of words and for each word they
were asked to either imagine how an artist would draw the object denoted by
the word or imagine functional uses for the object. The researchers trained
a pattern classifier (a program for analyzing patterns of brain activity, as dis-
cussed in the Implications Box in Chapter 4) to distinguish between words
assigned to the artist task and words assigned to the uses task, based on dif-
ferences in brain activity during the two tasks. Later, participants were shown
the words again and the classifier was applied to their brain activation patterns.
The classifier was able to recognize from these patterns what task the word had
been assigned to with better than chance accuracy. It was successful at recogni-
tion both for words that participants could recall studying and for words they
could not remember, although the accuracy was somewhat lower for the words
they could not remember. This indicates that even though we may have no con-
scious memory of seeing something, aspects of how we experienced it will be
retained in our brains.
Prefrontal regions
active when information
is retrieved
Hippocampal regions
(internal) active during
retrieval
Brain Structures FIGURE 7.1 The brain structures
involved in the creation and
storage of memories. Prefrontal
regions are responsible for the
creation of memories. The hip-
pocampus and surrounding struc-
tures in the temporal cortex are
responsible for the permanent
storage of these memories.
Anderson_8e_Ch07.indd 151 13/09/14 9:52 AM
152 / Chapter 7 H u M A n M e M o r y : r e T e n T i o n A n d r e T r i e v A l
These experiments do not prove that everything is remembered. They
show only that appropriately sensitive tests can find evidence for remnants
of some memories that appear to have been forgotten. In this chapter, we will
discuss first how memories become less available with time, then some of the
factors that determine our success in retrieving these memories.
■ Even when people appear to have forgotten memories, there is evi-
dence that they still have some of these memories stored.
◆ The Retention Function
The processes by which memories become less available are extremely regular,
and psychologists have studied their mathematical form. Wickelgren did some
of the most systematic research on memory retention functions, and his data
are still used today. In one recognition experiment (Wickelgren, 1975), he pre-
sented participants with a sequence of words to study and then examined the
probability of their recognizing the words after delays ranging from 1 min to
14 days. Figure 7.2 shows performance as a function of delay. The performance
measure Wickelgren used is called dʹ (pronounced d-prime), which is derived
from the probability of recognition. Wickelgren interpreted it as a measure of
memory strength.
Figure 7.2 shows that this measure of memory systematically deteriorates
with delay. However, the memory loss is negatively accelerated—that is, the rate
of change gets smaller and smaller as the delay increases. Figure 7.2b replots the
data as the logarithm of the performance measure versus the logarithm of delay.
Marvelously, the function becomes linear. The log of performance is a linear
function of the log of the delay T; that is,
log dʹ 5 A 2 b log T
where A is the value of the function at 1 min [log(1) 5 0] and b is the slope of
the function in Figure 7.2b, which happens to be 0.30 in this case.
This equation can be transformed to
dʹ 5 cT –b
(b)(a)
0
1.0
2.0
5
Delay, T (days)
3.62T − 0.321
M
ea
su
re
o
f r
et
en
tio
n
(d
′)
10 15 20 1
.1
2
.2
.5
1.0
2.0
3.0
4 157 30 50 1 2 4 71014
Minutes
lo
g
d′
Days
log T
FIGURE 7.2 results from Wickelgren’s experiment to discover a memory retention func-
tion. (a) success at word recognition, as measured by dʹ, as a function of delay T. (b) The
data in (a) replotted on a log–log scale. (Data from Wickelgren, 1975.)
Anderson_8e_Ch07.indd 152 13/09/14 9:52 AM
T H e r e T e n T i o n F u n C T i o n / 153
where c 5 10A and is 3.62 in this case. Such a functional relationship is called
a power function because the independent variable (the delay T in this case)
is raised to a power (2b in this case) to produce the performance measure (dʹ
in this case). In a review of research on forgetting, Wixted and Ebbesen (1991)
concluded that retention functions are generally power functions. This relation-
ship is called the power law of forgetting. Recall from Chapter 6 that there is
also a power law of learning: Practice curves are described by power functions.
Both functions are negatively accelerated, but with an important difference:
Whereas practice functions show diminishing improvement with practice,
retention functions show diminishing loss with delay.
A very extensive investigation of the negative acceleration in retention func-
tion was produced by Bahrick (1984), who looked at participants’ retention of
English–Spanish vocabulary items anywhere from immediately to 50 years after
they had completed courses in high school and college. Figure 7.3 plots the
number of items correctly recalled out of a total of 15 items as a function of the
logarithm of the time since course completion. Separate functions are plotted
for students who had one, three, or five courses. The data show a slow decay of
knowledge combined with a substantial practice effect (the greater the number
of courses, the better the recall, regardless of time since completion). In Bahrick’s
data, the retention functions are nearly flat between 3 and 25 years (as would be
predicted by a power function), with some further drop-off from 25 to 49 years
(which is more rapid than would be predicted by a power function). Bahrick
(personal communication, circa 1993) suspects that this final drop-off is prob-
ably related to physiological deterioration in old age.
There is some evidence that the explanation for these retention functions
may be found in the associated neural processes. Recall from Chapter 6 that
long-term potentiation (LTP) is an increase in neural responsiveness that oc-
curs as a reaction to prior electrical stimulation. We saw that LTP mirrors the
power law of learning. Figure 7.4 illustrates some data from Raymond and Red-
man (2006) that shows a decrease in LTP in the rat hippocampus with delay.
Plotted there are three conditions—a control condition that received no stim-
ulation, a condition that received just a single stimulation to induce LTP, and
another condition that received eight such stimulations. While the level of LTP
is greater in the condition with eight stimulations than in the condition with
one (a learning effect), both conditions show a drop-off with delay. The smooth
lines in the figure represent the best-fitting power functions and show that
maintenance of LTP has the form of a power function. Thus, the time course
of this neural forgetting mirrors the time course of behavioral forgetting, just as
Completion
0
2
4
6
8
12
10
14 38
log (time+1) (months)
Five courses
Te
st
sc
or
e
69 114 175 301 415 596
Three courses
One course
FIGURE 7.3 results from
Bahrick’s experiment that meas-
ured participants’ retention over
various time periods of english–
spanish vocabulary items. The
number of items correctly recalled
out of a total of 15 items is plot-
ted as a function of the logarithm
of the time since course comple-
tion. (Data from Bahrick,1984.)
Anderson_8e_Ch07.indd 153 13/09/14 9:52 AM
154 / Chapter 7 H u M A n M e M o r y : r e T e n T i o n A n d r e T r i e v A l
the neural learning function mirrors the behavioral learning function. In terms
of the strength concept introduced in Chapter 6, the assumption is that the
strength of the memory trace decays with time. The data on LTP suggest that
this strength decay involves changes in synaptic strength. Thus, there may be
a direct relationship between the concept of strength defined at the behavioral
level and strength defined at the neural level.
The idea that memory traces simply decay in strength with time is one of
the common explanations of forgetting; it is called the decay theory of forget-
ting. We will review one of the major competitors of this theory next: the inter-
ference theory of forgetting.
■ The strength of a memory trace decays as a power function of the
retention interval.
◆ How Interference Affects Memory
The discussion to this point might lead one to infer that the only factor affect-
ing loss of memories is the passage of time. However, it turns out that reten-
tion is strongly impacted by another factor: interfering material. Much of the
original research on interference involved learning multiple lists of paired asso-
ciates. The research investigated how the learning of one list of paired associates
would affect the memory for another list. Table 7.1 illustrates
paired-associates lists made up by associating nouns as stim-
uli to 2-digit numbers as responses. While all experiments
do not involve noun-number pairings, such items are typi-
cal of the rather arbitrary associates participants are asked to
learn. As in the table, there are two critical groups, experi-
mental and control. The experimental group learns two lists
of paired associates, the first list designated A–B and the sec-
ond designated A–D. These lists are so designated because
they share common stimuli (the A terms—e.g., cat or house
in Table 7.1) but different responses (the B and D terms—
e.g., 43 and 82 in Table 7.1). The control group also first
studies the A–B list but then studies a completely different
second list, designated C–D, which does not contain the
new stimuli (the C terms—e.g., bone and cup in Table 7.1).
After learning their respective second lists, both groups are
180
1 TBS
8 TBS
No TBS
150
120
90
60
30
0
−30
Minutes
EP
SC
(%
ch
an
ge
)
12060 90300
FIGURE 7.4 From raymond and
redman (2006), 1 or 8 theta-
burst stimulations (TBs) are
presented to rats’ hippocampus
at 10 minutes in the experiment.
The changes in esPC (excitatory
postsynaptic current—a measure
of lTP) are plotted as a function
of time. Also, a control condi-
tion is presented that received
no TBs. The two lines represent
best-fitting power functions.
Experimental Group Control Group
learn A–B
cat-43
house-61
apple-29
etc.
learn A–B
cat-43
house-61
apple-29
etc.
learn A–d
cat-82
house-37
apple-45
etc.
learn C–d
bone-82
cup-37
chair-45
etc.
TABLE 7.1 examples of Paired-Associates lists
for experimental and Control groups in a Typical
interference experiment
Anderson_8e_Ch07.indd 154 13/09/14 9:52 AM
H o W i n T e r F e r e n C e A F F e C T s M e M o r y / 155
retested for memory of their first list, in both cases the A–B list. Often, this
retention test is administered after a considerable delay, such as 24 hours or a
week. In general, the experimental group that learns A–D does not do as well as
the control group that learns C–D with respect either to rate of learning of the
second list or to retention of the original A–B list (see Keppel, 1968, for a re-
view). Such experiments provide evidence that learning the A–D list interferes
with retention of the A–B list and causes it to be forgotten more rapidly.
More generally, research has shown that it is difficult to maintain multi-
ple associations to the same items. It is harder both to learn new associations
to these items and to retain the old ones if new associations are learned. These
results might seem to have rather dismal implications for our ability to remem-
ber information. They would appear to imply that it would become increasingly
difficult to learn new information about a concept. Every time we learned a
new fact about a friend, we would be in danger of forgetting an old fact about
that person. Fortunately, there are important additional factors that counteract
such interference. Before discussing these factors, however, we need to examine
in more detail the basis for such interference effects. It turns out that a rather
different experimental paradigm has been helpful in identifying the cause of the
interference effects.
■ Learning additional associations to an item can cause old ones to
be forgotten.
The Fan Effect: Networks of Associations
The interference effects discussed above can be understood in terms of how much
activation spreads to stimulate a memory structure (refer back to the activation
equation in Chapter 6). The basic idea is that when participants are presented
with a stimulus such as cat, activation will spread from this source stimulus to all
of its associated memory structures. However, the total amount of activation that
can spread from a source is limited; the greater the number of associated memory
structures, the less the activation that will spread to any one structure.
In one of my dissertation studies illustrating these ideas (J. R. Anderson,
1974), I asked participants to memorize 26 sentences of the form A person is
in a location, like the four example sentences listed below. As you can see from
these examples, some persons were paired with only one location, and some lo-
cations with only one person, whereas other persons were paired with two loca-
tions, and other locations with two persons:
1. The doctor is in the bank. (1-1)
2. The fireman is in the park. (1-2)
3. The lawyer is in the church. (2-1)
4. The lawyer is in the park. (2-2)
The two numbers in parentheses after each sentence show the total number of
sentences associated with the person and with the location—for instance, sen-
tence 3 is labeled 2-1 because its person is associated with two sentences (sen-
tences 3 and 4) and its location with one (sentence 3). Participants were drilled
on 26 sentences like these until they knew the material well. Then participants
were presented with a set of test sentences that consisted of studied sentences
mixed in with new sentences created by re-pairing people and locations from
the study set, and participants had to recognize the sentences from the study set.
The recognition times are displayed in Table 7.2, which classifies the data
as a function of the number of studied sentences associated with the person
in the test sentence and the number of studied sentences associated with the
location in the test sentence. As can be seen, recognition time increases as
Anderson_8e_Ch07.indd 155 13/09/14 9:52 AM
156 / Chapter 7 H u M A n M e M o r y : r e T e n T i o n A n d r e T r i e v A l
a function of the sum of these two numbers—that is, sentences that could be
labeled 1-1 (as in the list above) are fastest to be recognized (sum of associa-
tions 5 2), sentences that could be labeled 1-2 or 2-1 are next fastest (sum of
associations 5 3), and sentences that could be labeled 2-2 are slowest (sum of
associations 5 4). The increases in recognition time are not much more than
a hundred milliseconds, but such effects can add up in situations like taking a
test under time pressure: Taking a little more time to answer each question can
mean not finishing the test.
These interference effects—that is, the increases in recognition time—can
be explained in terms of activation spreading through network structures like
the one in Figure 7.5, which represents the four sentences listed above. Accord-
ing to the spreading-activation theory, recognizing a sentence (i.e., retrieving
the memory of that sentence) would involve the following discrete steps:
1. Presentation of a sentence activates the representations of the concepts in
the sentence. In Figure 7.5, the concepts are doctor, lawyer, fireman, bank,
church, and park, which are each associated with one or more of the four
sentences.
2. Activation spreads from these source concepts to memory structures rep-
resenting the associated sentences. In Figure 7.5, the ovals represent these
Mean Recognition Time for Sentences (s)
Number of Sentences about a Specific Person
Number of Sentences
Using a Specific Location 1 2
1 1.11 1.17
2 1.17 1.22
reprinted from Anderson, J. r. (1974). retrieval of propositional information from long-
term memory. Cognitive Psychology, 6, 451–474. Copyright © 1974, with permission from
elsevier.
TABLE 7.2 results of an experiment to demonstrate the Fan effect
Park
Church
Bank
Lawyer
Fan
Fireman
Doctor
1-2
2-2
2-1
1-1
FIGURE 7.5 A representation of four of the sentences used in the experiment of
J. r. Anderson (1974) demonstrating how spreading activation works. The memory
structures (the ovals) are the sentences to be remembered: The doctor is in the bank,
The fireman is in the park, The lawyer is in the church, and The lawyer is in the park.
each memory structure is labeled with the number of associations of the person and
location in the sentence. The sources of activation are the concepts doctor, lawyer,
fireman, bank, church, and park, and the arrows represent the activation pathways.
Anderson_8e_Ch07.indd 156 13/09/14 9:52 AM
H o W i n T e r F e r e n C e A F F e C T s M e M o r y / 157
memory structures, and the arrows represent the activation pathways from
the concepts. However, as noted above, the total amount of activation that
can spread from a source is limited. This means, for example, that each of
the two pathways from lawyer carries less activation than the single path-
way from doctor.
3. As activation spreading down the pathways converges on the memory
structures, the memory structures are activated to various levels. These
activations sum to produce an overall level of activation of the memory
structure. Because of the limitation on the total activation from any one
source, a memory structure’s activation level is inversely related to the sum
of associations of the source concepts.
4. A sentence is recognized in an amount of time that is inversely related to
the activation level of its memory structure—that is, the greater the activa-
tion level, the less time required to retrieve the memory and recognize the
sentence. Or, to put it in terms of associations, the greater the number of
associations of the source concepts, the more time required to recognize the
sentence.
So, given a structure like that shown in Figure 7.5, participants should be
slower to recognize a fact involving lawyer and park than one involving doctor
and bank because more paths emanate from the first set of concepts. That is,
in the lawyer and park case, two paths point from each of the concepts to the
two facts in which each was studied, whereas only one path leads from each
of the doctor and bank concepts. The increase in reaction time related to an
increase in the number of facts associated with a concept is called the fan
effect. It is so named because the increase in reaction time is related to an
increase in the fan of facts emanating from the network representation of the
concept (see Figure 7.5).
In an fMRI brain-imaging study, Sohn, Goode, Stenger, Carter, and
Anderson (2003) looked at the response in the prefrontal cortex during the veri-
fication of such facts. They contrasted recognition of high-fan sentences (com-
posed of concepts that appeared in many other sentences) with low-fan sentences
(composed of concepts that appeared in few sentences). Figure 7.6 compares the
hemodynamic response in the two conditions and shows that there is a greater
hemodynamic response for the high-fan sentences, which have lower activation.
One might have expected lower activation to map onto weakened hemodynamic
response. However, the prefrontal structures must work harder to retrieve the
memory in conditions of lower activation. As we will see throughout the later
chapters of this text, in which we look at higher mental processes like problem
solving, more difficult conditions are associated with higher metabolic expendi-
tures, reflecting the greater mental work required in
these conditions.
■ The more facts associated with a
concept, the slower is retrieval of any one
of the facts.
The Interfering Effect of Preexisting
Memories
Do such interference effects occur with material
learned outside of the laboratory? As one way to
address this question, Lewis and Anderson (1976)
investigated whether the fan effect could be ob-
tained with material the participant knew before the
10
0.02
0.04
0.06
0.08
0.1
0.12
0.14
0.16
0.18
2 3 4
Time from stimulus onset (s)
In
cr
ea
se
in
B
O
LD
re
sp
on
se
(%
)
5 6 7 8
High fan
Low fan
FIGURE 7.6 differential hemody-
namic response in the prefrontal
cortex during the retrieval of
low-fan and high-fan sentences.
The increase in Bold response
is plotted against the time from
stimulus onset. (Data from Sohn
et al., 2003.)
Anderson_8e_Ch07.indd 157 13/09/14 9:52 AM
158 / Chapter 7 H u M A n M e M o r y : r e T e n T i o n A n d r e T r i e v A l
experiment. We had participants learn fantasy facts
about public figures; for example, Napoleon Bona-
parte was from India. Participants studied from zero
to four such fantasy facts about each public figure.
After learning these “facts,” they proceeded to a rec-
ognition test phase, in which they saw three types
of sentences: (1) statements they had studied in the
experiment; (2) true facts about the public figures
(such as Napoleon Bonaparte was an emperor); and
(3) statements about the public figures that were
false both in the experimental fantasy world and in
the real world. Participants had to respond to the
first two types of facts as true and to the last type
as false.
Figure 7.7 presents participants’ times in
making these judgments as a function of the num-
ber (or fan) of the fantasy facts studied about the
person. Note that reaction time increased with
fan for all types of facts. Also note that partici-
pants responded much faster to actual facts than
to experimental facts. The advantage of actual facts
can be explained by the observation that these true
facts would be much more strongly encoded in
memory than the fantasy facts. The most important result to note in Figure 7.7
is that the more fantasy facts participants learned about an individual such as
Napoleon Bonaparte, the longer they took to recognize a fact that they already
knew about the individual; for example, Napoleon Bonaparte was an emperor.
Thus, we can produce interference with pre-experimental material. For further
research on this topic, see Peterson and Potts (1982).
■ Material learned in the laboratory can interfere with material
learned outside of the laboratory.
The Controversy Over Interference and Decay
We have seen two mechanisms that can produce forgetting: decay of trace
strength and interference from other memories. There has been some speculation
in psychology that what appears to be decay may really reflect interference. That
is, the reason memories appear to decay over a retention interval is that they are
interfered with by additional memories that the participants have learned. This
speculation led to research that studied whether material was better retained over
an interval during which participants slept or one during which they were awake.
The reasoning was that there would be fewer interfering memories learned dur-
ing sleep. Ekstrand (1972) reviewed a great deal of research consistent with the
conclusion that less is forgotten during the period of sleep. However, it seems that
the critical variable is not sleep but rather the time of day during which material is
learned. Hockey, Davies, and Gray (1972) found that participants better remem-
bered material that they learned at night, even if they were kept up during the
night and slept during the day. It seems that early evening is the period of highest
arousal (at least for typical undergraduate participants) and that retention is best
for material learned in a high arousal state. See J. R. Anderson (2000) for a review
of the literature on effects of time of day. A further complication is that there is
increasing evidence that sleep is critical to learning and that those who have in-
adequate sleep suffer memory deficits (Stickgold, 2005). However, this is different
than the claim that forgetting is reduced during sleep.
0
Number of fantasy facts learned (fan)
Re
ac
tio
n
tim
e
(m
s)
1300
1400
1500
1600
1700
1800
1900
2000
2100
2200
2300
2400
1 2 3 4
False
Experimental true
Actual true
FIGURE 7.7 results from lewis
and Anderson’s study to inves-
tigate whether the fan effect
could be obtained using mate-
rial participants knew before the
experiment. The task was to
recognize true and fantasy facts
about a public figure and to reject
statements that contained neither
true nor fantasy facts. Participants’
reaction times in making these
judgments are plotted as a func-
tion of the number (or fan) of
the fantasy facts studied. The
time participants took to make
all three judgments increased as
they learned more fantasy facts.
(Data from Lewis and Anderson,
1976.)
Anderson_8e_Ch07.indd 158 13/09/14 9:52 AM
H o W i n T e r F e r e n C e A F F e C T s M e M o r y / 159
There has been a long-standing controversy in psychology about whether
retention functions, such as those illustrated in Figures 7.2 and 7.3, reflect de-
cay in the absence of any interference or reflect interference from unidentified
sources. Objections have been raised to decay theories because they do not
identify the psychological factors that produce the forgetting but rather just as-
sert that forgetting occurs spontaneously with time. It may be possible, how-
ever, that there is no explanation of decay at the purely psychological level. The
explanation may be physiological, as we saw with respect to the LTP data (see
Figure 7.4). Thus, it seems that the best conclusion, given the available data, is
that both interference and decay effects contribute to forgetting.
■ Forgetting results both from decay in trace strength and from inter-
ference from other memories.
An Inhibitory Explanation of Forgetting?
A more recent controversy in psychology concerns the issue of whether
interference effects are due to an inhibition process that actively suppresses
the competing memories rather than a passive side effect of storing and
strengthening memories. The inhibition account has been championed by
Michael Anderson (e.g., M. C. Anderson, 2003). Evidence for this comes from
a variety of retrieval-induced forgetting paradigms. For instance, participants
might learn a list of category-exemplar pairs where there are multiple instances
of the same category, such as
Red–Blood (practiced) (74%)
Red–Tomato (22%)
Food–Strawberry (22%)
Food–Cracker (36%)
among others. After the initial study, participants are given practice on only
some of the pairs they had studied. For instance, they might be given prac-
tice on Red–Blood, but not on the other three pairs above. Afterward they are
given a recall test in which they see the category names and have to recall all
the instances they studied. The above pairs have in parentheses the results from
one of the early experiments (M. C. Anderson & Spellman, 1995). Not sur-
prisingly, participants show the highest recall for Red–Blood, which they have
been practicing. Interest focuses on recall of the other pairs that have not been
practiced. Note that recall is lower for either Red–Tomato or Food–Strawberry
than for Food–Cracker. Michael Anderson argues that while practicing Red–
Blood, participants were inhibiting all other red things, including Strawberry,
which they did not even study as a Red thing. The lower recall for Red–Tomato
can be explained by other interference theories, such as competition from the
strengthened Red–Blood association, but the lower recall of Food–Strawberry is
considered evidence for the inhibition account.
Another source of evidence for the retrieval inhibition comes from what is
called the think/no-think paradigm (M. C. Anderson & Green, 2001). Partici-
pants study pairs like Ordeal–Roach. Then they are presented with the first item
(e.g., Ordeal) and either asked to think about the response or to avoid thinking
about the response. After thinking about or suppressing the response, partici-
pants are then tested with a different probe like Insect-R, where they are sup-
posed to produce a word from the experiment associated to the first term and
which begins with the given first letter. Participants are less likely to recall the
target word (i.e., Roach in this example), if they have been suppressing it.
Unfortunately for the purposes of presenting firm conclusions, there
have been a number of recent critiques of this research (e.g., Verde, 2012;
Anderson_8e_Ch07.indd 159 13/09/14 9:52 AM
160 / Chapter 7 H u M A n M e M o r y : r e T e n T i o n A n d r e T r i e v A l
Raaijmakers & Jakab, 2013). Other researchers sometimes can replicate these
results but oftentimes cannot. There has been great effort put into understand-
ing what might be the cause of this mixed empirical picture. One idea that has
emerged is that when these “inhibition” effects occur, they may be produced
by unobserved strategies of the participant. For instance, in the think/no-think
paradigm, participants may think of some other insect to prevent themselves
from thinking of Roach. In the first experiment we discussed, when subjects are
given the cue Food, they might be tempted to use the category cue Red, because
some of the food items were red. Thus, what appears to be a general suppres-
sion of a response item, like Roach or Strawberry, may actually be competition
to implicit stimuli generated by the participant’s strategy. Such strategies could
vary with many factors and this strategy variation could explain the inconsist-
ent results. There is some evidence for the existence of covert cueing strategies
(e.g., Camp, Pecher, & Schmidt, 2005), although the evidence has been disputed
(see Huddleston & Anderson, 2012).
In some ways retrieval-induced suppression is not a new idea. It heark-
ens back to Freud, who argued that we suppress unpleasant memories. Freud’s
hypothesis was thought to apply only to highly emotional memories and even
there it is controversial (see the later section of this chapter on the false memory
controversy). Freud’s original account of the mechanisms that produced sup-
pressed memories is not generally accepted. One of the criticisms of the cur-
rent inhibition ideas is that the proponents have not described mechanisms that
might produce such inhibition. This is similar to the criticisms of decay theory
for not producing an explanation of the mechanisms producing the decay.
■ It has been argued that forgetting may also be produced by active
suppression of memories, but the evidence is inclusive.
Redundancy Protects Against Interference
There is a major qualification about the situations in which interference effects
are seen: Interference occurs only when one is learning multiple pieces of infor-
mation that have no intrinsic relationship to one another. In contrast, interfer-
ence does not occur when the pieces of information are meaningfully related.
An experiment by Bradshaw and Anderson (1982) illustrates the contrasting
effects of redundant versus irrelevant information. These researchers looked at
participants’ ability to learn some little-known information about famous peo-
ple. In the single condition, they had participants study just one fact:
Newton became emotionally unstable and insecure as a child.
In the irrelevant condition, they had participants learn a target fact plus two un-
related facts about the individual:
Locke was unhappy as a student at Westminster.
plus
Locke felt fruits were unwholesome for children.
Locke had a long history of back trouble.
In the relevant condition, participants learned two additional facts that were
causally related to the target fact:
Mozart made a long journey from Munich to Paris.
plus
Mozart wanted to leave Munich to avoid a romantic entanglement.
Mozart was intrigued by musical developments coming out of Paris.
Anderson_8e_Ch07.indd 160 13/09/14 9:52 AM
r e T r i e v A l A n d i n F e r e n C e / 161
Participants were tested for their
ability to recall the target facts immediately
after studying them and after a week’s
delay. They were presented with names
such as Newton, Mozart, and Locke and
asked to recall what they had studied.
Table 7.3 shows the results in terms of the
percentage of participants who recalled
the target facts. Comparing the irrelevant
condition with the single condition, we see
the standard interference effect: Recall was
worse when there were more facts to be
learned about an item. However, the conclusion is quite different when we compare
the relevant condition to the single condition. Here, particularly at a week’s delay,
recall was better when there were more facts to be learned, presumably because the
additional facts were causally related to the target facts.
To understand why the effects of interference are eliminated or even re-
versed when there is redundancy among the materials to be learned requires
that we move on to discussing the retrieval process and, in particular, the role
of inferential processes in retrieval.
■ Learning redundant material does not interfere with a target mem-
ory and may even facilitate the target memory.
◆ Retrieval and Inference
Often, when people cannot remember a particular fact, they are able to retrieve
related facts and so infer the target fact on the basis of the related facts. For ex-
ample, in the case of the Mozart facts just discussed, even if the participants
could not recall that Mozart made a long journey from Munich to Paris, if they
could retrieve the other two facts, they would be able to infer this target fact.
There is considerable evidence that people make such inferences at the time of
recall. They seem unaware that they are making inferences but rather think that
they are recalling what they actually studied.
Bransford, Barclay, and Franks (1972) reported an experiment that demon-
strates how inference can lead to incorrect recall. They had participants study
one of the following sentences:
1. Three turtles rested beside a floating log, and a fish swam beneath
them.
2. Three turtles rested on a floating log, and a fish swam beneath them.
Participants who had studied sentence 1 were later asked whether they had
studied this sentence:
3. Three turtles rested beside a floating log, and a fish swam beneath it.
Not many participants thought they had studied this sentence. Participants who
had studied sentence 2 were tested with
4. Three turtles rested on a floating log, and a fish swam beneath it.
The participants in this group judged that they had studied sentence 4 much
more often than participants in the other group judged that they had studied
sentence 3. Sentence 4 is implied by sentence 2, whereas sentence 3 is not im-
plied by sentence 1. Thus, participants thought that they had actually studied
what was implied by the studied material.
Release from Proactive
Interference
Recall (%)
Condition Immediate Recall Recall at 1 Week
single fact 92 62
irrelevant facts 80 45
relevant facts 94 73
From Bradshaw, g. l., & Anderson, J. r. (1982). elaborative encoding as an
explanation of levels of processing. Journal of Verbal Learning and Verbal
Behavior, 21, 165–174. Copyright © 1982 elsevier. reprinted by permission.
TABLE 7.3 The Contrasting effects of relevant and irrelevant information
Anderson_8e_Ch07.indd 161 13/09/14 9:52 AM
162 / Chapter 7 H u M A n M e M o r y : r e T e n T i o n A n d r e T r i e v A l
A study by Sulin and Dooling (1974) illustrates how inference can bias par-
ticipants’ memory for a text. They asked participants to read the following passage:
Carol Harris’s Need for Professional Help
Carol Harris was a problem child from birth. She was wild, stubborn,
and violent. By the time Carol turned eight, she was still unmanage-
able. Her parents were very concerned about her mental health. There
was no good institution for her problem in her state. Her parents finally
decided to take some action. They hired a private teacher for Carol.
A second group of participants read the same passage, except that the name
Helen Keller was substituted for Carol Harris.1 A week after reading the pas-
sage, participants were given a recognition test in which they were presented
with a sentence and asked to judge whether it had occurred in the passage they
read originally. One of the critical test sentences was She was deaf, dumb, and
blind. Only 5% of participants who read the Carol Harris passage accepted this
sentence, but a full 50% of the participants who read the Helen Keller version
thought they had read the sentence. The second group of participants had elab-
orated the story with facts they knew about Helen Keller. Thus, it seemed rea-
sonable to them at test that this sentence had appeared in the studied material,
but in this case their inference was wrong.
We might wonder whether an inference such as She was deaf, dumb, and
blind was made while the participant was studying the passage or only at the
time of the test. This is a subtle issue, and participants certainly do not have
reliable intuitions about it. However, a couple of techniques seem to yield
evidence that the inferences are being made at test. One method is to deter-
mine whether the inferences increase in frequency with delay. With delay,
participants’ memory for the studied passage should deteriorate, and if they
are making inferences at test, they will have to do more reconstruction, which
in turn will lead to more inferential errors. Both Dooling and Christiaansen
(1977) and Spiro (1977) found evidence for increased inferential intrusions
with increased delay of testing. Dooling and Christiaansen used another tech-
nique with the Carol Harris passage to show that inferences were being made
at test. They had the participants study the passage and then told them a week
later, just before test, that Carol Harris really was Helen Keller. In this situa-
tion, participants also made many inferential errors, accepting such sentences
as She was deaf, dumb, and blind. Because they did not know that Carol Har-
ris was Helen Keller until test, they must have made the inferences at test.
Thus, it seems that participants do make such reconstructive inferences at
time of test.
■ In trying to remember material, people will use what they can re-
member to infer what else they might have studied.
Plausible Retrieval
In the foregoing analysis, we spoke of participants as making errors when they
recalled or recognized facts that were not explicitly presented. In real life, how-
ever, such acts of recall often would be regarded not as errors but as intelligent
inferences. Reder (1982) has argued that much of recall in real life involves
plausible inference rather than exact recall. For instance, in deciding that Darth
Vader was evil in Star Wars, a person does not search memory for the spe-
cific proposition that Darth Vader was evil, although it may have been directly
1 Helen Keller was well known to participants of the time, famous for overcoming both deafness and
blindness as a child.
Anderson_8e_Ch07.indd 162 13/09/14 9:52 AM
r e T r i e v A l A n d i n F e r e n C e / 163
asserted in the movie. The person infers that
Darth Vader was evil from memories about the
Stars Wars movies.
Reder has demonstrated that people will
display very different behavior, depending on
whether they are asked to engage in exact re-
trieval or plausible retrieval. She had partici-
pants study passages such as the following:
The heir to a large hamburger chain was
in trouble. He had married a lovely young
woman who had seemed to love him. Now
he worried that she had been after his money
after all. He sensed that she was not attracted
to him. Perhaps he consumed too much beer
and French fries. No, he couldn’t give up the
fries. Not only were they delicious, he got them for free.
Then she had participants judge sentences such as
1. The heir married a lovely young woman who had seemed to love
him.
2. The heir got his French fries from his family’s hamburger chain.
3. The heir was very careful to eat only healthy food.
The first sentence was studied; the second was not studied, but is plausible; and
the third was neither studied nor plausible. Participants in the exact condition
were asked to make exact recognition judgments, in which case they were to
accept the first sentence and reject the second two. Participants in the plausible
condition were to judge whether the sentence was plausible given the story, in
which case they were to accept the first two and reject the last. Reder tested
participants immediately after studying the story, 20 min later, or 2 days later.
Reder was interested in judgment time for participants in the two condi-
tions, exact versus plausible. Figure 7.8 shows the results from her experiment,
plotted as the average judgment times for the exact condition and the plausible
condition as a function of delay. As might be expected, participants’ response
times increased with delay in the exact condition. However, the response times
actually decreased in the plausible condition. They started out slower in the
plausible condition than in the exact condition, but this trend was reversed
after 2 days. Reder argues that participants respond more slowly in the exact
condition because the exact traces are getting weaker. A plausibility judgment,
however, does not depend on any particular trace and so is not similarly vul-
nerable to forgetting. Participants respond faster in the plausible condition with
delay because they no longer try to retrieve facts, which are not there. Instead
they use plausibility, which is faster.
Reder and Ross (1983) compared exact versus plausible judgments in
another study. They had participants study sentences such as
Alan bought a ticket for the 10:00 a.m. train.
Alan heard the conductor call, “All aboard.”
Alan read a newspaper on the train.
Alan arrived at Grand Central Station.
They manipulated the number of sentences that participants had to study about
a particular person such as Alan. Then they looked at the times participants
took to recognize sentences such as
1. Alan heard the conductor call, “All aboard.”
2. Alan watched the approaching train from the platform.
3. Alan sorted his clothes into colors and whites.
20 minnone
Re
ac
tio
n
tim
e
(s
)
Delay
2.40
2.60
3.00
2.80
3.20
2 days
Exact recall
Plausible retrieval
FIGURE 7.8 results from
reder’s experiment showing
that people display different
behavior depending on whether
they are asked to engage in
exact retrieval or plausible
retrieval of information. The time
required to make exact versus
plausible recognition judgments
of sentences is plotted as a
function of delay since study of a
story. (From Reder, L. M. (1982).
Plausibility judgment versus fact
retrieval: Alternative strategies for
sentence verification. Psychological
review, 89, 250–280. Copyright
© 1982 American Psychological
Association. Reprinted by
permission.)
Anderson_8e_Ch07.indd 163 13/09/14 9:52 AM
164 / Chapter 7 H u M A n M e M o r y : r e T e n T i o n A n d r e T r i e v A l
In the exact condition, participants had to judge whether the sentence had
been studied. So, given the foregoing material, participants would accept test
sentence 1 and reject test sentences 2 and 3. In the plausible condition, partici-
pants had to judge whether it was plausible that Alan was involved in the activ-
ity, given what they had studied. Thus, participants would accept sentences 1
and 2 and reject sentence 3.
In the exact condition, Reder and Ross found that participants’ response
times increased when they had studied more facts about Alan. This is basically
a replication of the fan effect discussed earlier in the chapter. In the plausible
condition, however, participants’ response times decreased when they had
learned more facts about Alan. The more facts they knew about Alan, the more
ways there were to judge a particular fact to be plausible. Thus, plausibility
judgment did not have to depend on retrieval of a particular fact.
■ People will often judge what plausibly might be true rather than try
to retrieve exact facts.
The Interaction of Elaboration and Inferential
Reconstruction
In Chapter 6, we discussed how people tend to display better memories if they
elaborate the material being studied. We also discussed how semantic elabora-
tions are particularly beneficial. Such semantic elaborations should facilitate the
process of inference by providing more material from which to infer. Thus, we ex-
pect elaborative processing to lead to both an increased recall of what was studied
and an increase in the number of inferences recalled. An experiment by Owens,
Bower, and Black (1979) confirms this prediction. Participants studied a story that
followed the principal character, a college student, through a day in her life: mak-
ing a cup of coffee in the morning, visiting a doctor, attending a lecture, shopping
for groceries, and attending a party. The following is a passage from the story:
Nancy went to see the doctor. She arrived at the office and checked
in with the receptionist. She went to see the nurse, who went through
the usual procedures. Then Nancy stepped on the scale and the nurse
recorded her weight. The doctor entered the room and examined the
results. He smiled at Nancy and said, “Well, it seems my expectations
have been confirmed.” When the examination was finished, Nancy left
the office.
Two groups of participants studied the story. The only difference between the
groups was that the theme group had read the following additional information
at the beginning:
Nancy woke up feeling sick again and she wondered if she really were
pregnant. How would she tell the professor she had been seeing? And
the money was another problem.
College students who read this additional passage characterized Nancy as an un-
married student who is afraid she is pregnant as a result of an affair with a college
professor. Participants in the neutral condition, who had not read this opening
passage, had no reason to suspect that there was anything special about Nancy.
We would expect participants in the theme condition to make many more theme-
related elaborations of the story than participants in the neutral condition.
Participants were asked to recall the story 24 hours after studying it. Those
in the theme condition introduced a great many more inferences that had not
actually been studied. For instance, many participants reported that the doctor
Anderson_8e_Ch07.indd 164 13/09/14 9:52 AM
r e T r i e v A l A n d i n F e r e n C e / 165
told Nancy she was pregnant. Intrusions
of this variety are expected if participants
reconstruct a story on the basis of their
elaborations. Table 7.4 reports some of the
results from the study. As can be seen, many
more inferences were added in recall for
the theme condition than for the neutral
condition. A second important observation,
however, is that participants in the theme
condition also recalled more of the propo-
sitions they had actually studied. Thus,
because of the additional elaborations these participants made, they were able
to recall more of the story.
We might question whether participants really benefited from their elab-
orations, because they also misrecalled many things that did not occur in the
story. However, it is wrong to characterize the intruded inferences as errors.
Given the theme information, participants were perfectly right to make infer-
ences. In a nonexperimental setting, such as recalling information for an exam,
we would expect these participants to recall such inferences as easily as material
they had actually read.
■ When participants elaborate on material while studying it, they
tend to recall more of what they studied and also tend to recall the
inferences that they did not study but made themselves.
Eyewitness Testimony and the False-Memory
Controversy
The ability to elaborate on and make inferences from information, both while
it is being studied and when our recall is being tested, is essential to using our
memory successfully in everyday life. Inferences made while studying material
allow us to extrapolate from what we actually heard and saw to what is probably
true. When we hear that someone found that she was pregnant during a visit to
a doctor, it is a reasonable inference that the doctor told her. So such inferences
usually lead to a much more coherent and accurate understanding of the world.
There are circumstances, however, in which we need to be able to separate what
we actually saw and heard from our inferences. The difficulty of doing so can
lead to harmful false memories; the Gargoil example in the Implications Box on
the next page is only the tip of the iceberg.
One situation in which it is critical to separate inference from actual
experience is in eyewitness testimony. It has been shown that eyewitnesses
are often inaccurate in the testimony they give, even though jurors accord it
high weight. One reason for the low accuracy is that people confuse what they
actually observed about an incident with what they learned from other sources.
Loftus (1975; Loftus, Miller, & Burns, 1978) showed that subsequent information
can change a person’s memory of an observed event. In one study, for instance,
Loftus asked participants who had witnessed a traffic accident about the car’s
speed when it passed a Yield sign. Although there was no Yield sign, many
participants subsequently remembered having seen one, confusing the question
they were asked with what they had actually seen. Another interesting example
involves the testimony given by John Dean about events in the Nixon White
House during the Watergate cover-up (Neisser, 1981). After Dean testified about
conversations in the Oval Office, it was discovered that Nixon had recorded these
conversations. Although Dean was substantially accurate in gist, he confused
many details, including the order in which these conversations took place.
Misinformation Effect
Number of Propositions Recalled
Theme Condition Neutral Condition
studied propositions 29.2 20.3
inferred propositions 15.2 3.7
From owens, J., Bower, g. H., & Black, J. B. (1979). The “soap opera”
effect in story recall. Memory & Cognition, 7, 185–191. Copyright © 1979
springer. reprinted by permission.
TABLE 7.4 The interactive effects of elaboration and inference
Anderson_8e_Ch07.indd 165 13/09/14 9:52 AM
166 / Chapter 7 H u M A n M e M o r y : r e T e n T i o n A n d r e T r i e v A l
Another case of memory confusion that has produced a great deal of
notoriety concerns the controversy about the so-called false-memory syn-
drome. This controversy involves cases where individuals claim to recover
memories of childhood sexual abuse that they had suppressed (Schacter,
2001). Many of these recovered memories occur in the process of therapy,
and some memory researchers have questioned whether these recovered
memories ever happened and hypothesized that they might have been created
by the strong suggestions of the therapists. For instance, one therapist said
to patients, “You know, in my experience, a lot of people who are struggling
with many of the same problems you are, have often had some kind of really
painful things happen to them as kids—maybe they were beaten or molested.
And I wonder if anything like that ever happened to you?” (Forward & Buck,
1988, p. 161). Given the evidence we have reviewed about how people will
put information together to make inferences about what they should remem-
ber, one could wonder if the patients who heard this might remember what
did not happen.
A number of researchers have shown that it is possible to create false memo-
ries by use of suggestive interview techniques. For instance, Loftus and Pickerall
(1995) had adult participants read four stories from their childhood written by
an older relative—three were true, but one was a false story about being lost in
the mall at age 5. After reading the story, about 25% of participants claimed to
remember the event of being lost in a mall. In another study, Wade, Garry, Read,
and Lindsay (2002) inserted an actual photo from the participants’ childhood
into a picture of a hot-air balloon ride that never happened (see Figure 7.9). Fifty
percent of their participants then reported false memories about the experience.
The process by which we distinguish between memory and imagination is quite
fragile, and it is easy to become confused about the source of information. Of
course, it would not be ethical to try to plant false memories about something
so traumatic as sexual abuse, and there are questions (e.g., Pope, 1996) about
How have advertisers used
knowledge of cognitive
psychology?
Advertisers often capitalize on our
tendency to embellish what we hear
with plausible inferences. Consider
the following portion of an old lister-
ine commercial:
“Wouldn’t it be great,” asks
the mother, “if you could
make him cold proof? Well,
you can’t. nothing can do
that.” [Boy sneezes.] “But
there is something that
you can do that may help.
Have him gargle with lis-
terine Antiseptic. listerine
can’t promise to keep him
cold free, but it may help
him fight off colds. during
the cold-catching season,
have him gargle twice a
day with full-strength lister-
ine. Watch his diet, see he
gets plenty of sleep, and
there’s a good chance he’ll
have fewer colds, milder
colds this year.”
A verbatim text of this com-
mercial, with the product name
changed to “gargoil,” was used in
an experiment conducted by Harris
(1977). After hearing this commer-
cial, all 15 of his participants recalled
that “gargling with gargoil Antiseptic
helps prevent colds,” although this
assertion was clearly not made in
the commercial. The Federal Trade
Commission explicitly forbids ad-
vertisers from making false claims,
but does the listerine ad make a
false claim? in a landmark case, the
courts ruled against Warner-lambert,
makers of listerine, for implying
false claims in this commercial. As a
corrective action the court ordered
Warner-lambert to include in future
advertisements the disclaimer “con-
trary to prior advertising, listerine
will not help prevent colds or sore
throats or lessen their severity.” They
were required to continue this dis-
claimer until they had expended an
amount of money equivalent to their
prior 10 years of advertisement.
I m p l I c a t I o n s
▼
▲
ba
lly
sc
an
lo
n/
Ge
tty
Im
ag
es
.
Anderson_8e_Ch07.indd 166 13/09/14 9:52 AM
r e T r i e v A l A n d i n F e r e n C e / 167
whether it is possible to create false memories as awful as those involving child-
hood sexual abuse.
There is an intense debate about how much credibility should be given to
recovered memories of childhood abuse. Although there is a temptation to con-
clude that either all reports of recovered memories of abuse should be believed
or that all should be discounted, it does not appear to be so simple. There are
cases of recovered memories of abuse that seem to have strong documentation
(Sivers, Schooler, and Freyd, 2002), and there are cases where the alleged
victims of such abuse have subsequently retracted and said they were misled in
their memories (Schacter, 2001).
■ Serious errors of memory can occur because people fail to separate
what they actually experienced from what they inferred, imagined,
or were told.
False Memories and the Brain
Researchers have developed the ability to explore the neural basis of false mem-
ories. They have used less exotic paradigms than the hot-air balloon example
above. In a Deese-Roediger-McDermott paradigm originally invented by
Deese (1959) and elaborated by Roediger and McDermott (1995), participants
study lists of words. One list might contain thread, pin, eye, sewing, sharp, point,
prick, thimble, haystack, thorn, hurt, injection, syringe, cloth, knitting; a second
list might contain bed, rest, awake, tired, dream, wake, snooze, blanket, doze,
slumber, snore, nap, peace, yawn, drowsy. In a later test, participants are shown a
series of words and must decide whether they have studied those words. There
are three types of words:
True (e.g., sewing, awake)
False (e.g., needle, sleep)
New (e.g., door, candy)
False Memory
FIGURE 7.9 The actual childhood photo on the left was embedded into the picture on
the right to help create a false childhood memory. (From Wade et al., 2002.)
Anderson_8e_Ch07.indd 167 13/09/14 9:52 AM
168 / Chapter 7 H u M A n M e M o r y : r e T e n T i o n A n d r e T r i e v A l
The true items were in the lists; the false ones are strongly associated with items
in the lists but were not in the lists; and the new ones are unrelated to items in
the lists. Participants accept most of the true items and reject most of the new
ones, but they have difficulty in rejecting the false items. In one study, Cabeza,
Rao, Wagner, Mayer, and Schacter (2001) found that 88% of the true items and
only 12% of the new items were accepted, but 80% of the false items were also
accepted—almost as many as the true items.
Cabeza et al. examined the activation patterns that these different types of
words produced in the cortex. Figure 7.10 illustrates such activation profiles
in the hippocampal structures. In the hippocampus proper, true words and
false words produced almost identical fMRI responses, which were stronger
than the responses produced by the new words. Thus, these hemodynamic
responses appear to match up pretty well with the behavioral data where
participants cannot discriminate between true items and false items. However,
Hippocampus
Image number
True
False
New
(a)
No
rm
ali
ze
d
M
R
sig
na
l
1
−1.5
−1.0
−0.5
0
0.5
1.0
2 3 4 5
True
False
New
(b)
No
rm
ali
ze
d
M
R
sig
na
l
−1.5
−1.0
−0.5
0
0.5
1.0
Image number
Parahippocampal gyrus
1 2 3 4 5
FIGURE 7.10 results from the fMri study by Cabeza et al. of activation patterns pro-
duced by participants’ judgments of true, false, and new items on a previously learned
word list. (a) Bilateral hippocampal regions were more activated for true and false items
than for new items, with no difference between the activations for true and false items.
(b) A left posterior parahippocampal region (the parahippocampal gyrus) was more acti-
vated for true items than for false and new items, with no difference between the activa-
tions for false and new items. (From Cabeza, R., Rao, S. M., Wagner, A. D., Mayer, A. R.,
& Schacter, D. L. (2001). Can medial temporal lobe regions distinguish true from false?
An event-related fMRI study of veridical and illusory recognition memory. Proceedings of
the national Academy of sciences, usA, 98, 4805–4810. Copyright © 2001 National
Academy of Sciences, USA. Reprinted by permission.)
Anderson_8e_Ch07.indd 168 13/09/14 9:52 AM
A s s o C i AT i v e s T r u C T u r e A n d r e T r i e v A l / 169
in the parahippocampal gyrus, an area just adjacent to the hippocampus,
both false and new items produced weaker responses than the true items. The
parahippocampus is more closely connected to sensory regions of the brain, and
Cabeza et al. suggested that it retains the original sensory experience of seeing
the word, whereas the hippocampus maintains a more abstract representation
and this is why true items produce a larger hemodynamic response. Schacter
(e.g., Dodson & Schacter, 2002a, 2000b) has suggested that people can be
trained to pay more attention to these distinctive sensory features and so
improve their resistance to false memories. As one application, distinctiveness
training can be used to help elderly patients who have particular difficulty with
false memories. For instance, older adults sometimes find it hard to remember
whether they have seen something or just imagined it (Henkel, Johnson, &
DeLeonardis, 1998).
■ The hippocampus responds to false memories with as high activa-
tion as it responds to true memories and so fails to discriminate be-
tween what was experienced and what was imagined.
◆ Associative Structure and Retrieval
The spreading-activation theory described in Chapter 6 implies that we can im-
prove our memory by providing prompts that are closely associated with a par-
ticular memory. You may find yourself practicing this technique when you try
to remember the name of an old classmate. You may prompt your memory with
names of other classmates or memories of things you did with that classmate.
Often, the name does seem to come to mind as a result of such efforts. An ex-
periment by Tulving and Pearlstone (1966) provides one demonstration of this
technique. They had participants learn lists of 48 words that contained catego-
ries such as dog, cat, horse, and cow, which form a domestic mammal category.
Participants were asked to try to recall all the words in the list. They displayed
better memory for the word lists when they were given prompts such as mam-
mal, which served to cue memory for members of the categories.
The Effects of Encoding Context
Among the cues that can become associated with a memory are those from the
context in which the memory was formed. This section will review some of the
ways that such contextual cues influence memory. Context effects are often re-
ferred to as encoding effects because the context is affecting what is encoded
into the memory trace that records the event.
Smith, Glenberg, and Bjork (1978) performed an experiment that showed
the importance of physical context. In their experiment, participants learned two
lists of paired associates on different days and in different physical settings. On day
1, participants learned the paired associates in a windowless room in a building
near the University of Michigan campus. The experimenter was neatly groomed,
dressed in a coat and a tie, and the paired associates were shown on slides. On day
2, participants learned the paired associates in a tiny room with windows on the
main campus. The experimenter was dressed sloppily in a flannel shirt and jeans
(it was the same experimenter, but some participants did not recognize him) and
presented the paired associates via a tape recorder. A day later, participants were
tested for their recall of half the paired associates in one setting and half in the
other setting. They could recall 59% of the list learned in the same setting as they
were tested, but only 46% of the list learned in the other setting. Thus, it seems that
recall is better if the context during test is the same as the context during study.
Anderson_8e_Ch07.indd 169 13/09/14 9:52 AM
170 / Chapter 7 H u M A n M e M o r y : r e T e n T i o n A n d r e T r i e v A l
Perhaps the most dramatic manipulation of con-
text was performed by Godden and Baddeley (1975).
They had divers learn a list of 40 unrelated words ei-
ther on the shore or 20 feet under the sea. The divers
were then asked to recall the list either in the same
environment or in the other environment. Figure 7.11
displays the results of this study. Participants clearly
showed superior memory when they were asked to
recall the list in the same environment in which they
studied it. So, it seems that contextual elements do
get associated with memories and that memory is
improved when participants are provided with these
contextual elements when being tested. This result ac-
tually has serious implications for diver instruction,
because most of the instructions are given on dry land but must be recalled un-
der water.
The degree to which such contextual effects are obtained has proved to be
quite variable from experiment to experiment (Roediger & Guynn, 1996). Fer-
nandez and Glenberg (1985) reported a number of failures to find any context
dependence; and Saufley, Otaka, and Bavaresco (1985) reported a failure to find
such effects in a classroom situation. Eich (1985) argued that the magnitude of
such contextual effects depends on the degree to which the participant integrates
the context with the memories. In his experiment, he read lists of nouns to two
groups of participants. In one condition, participants were instructed to imagine
the referents of the nouns alone (e.g., imagine a kite); in the other, they were asked
to imagine the referents integrated with the experimental context (e.g., imagine a
kite on the table in the corner of the room). Eich found participants were much
more impacted by a change in the test context when they had been instructed to
imagine the referent integrated with the study context.
Bower, Monteiro, and Gilligan (1978) showed that emotional context can
have the same effect as physical context. They instructed participants to learn
two lists. For one list, they hypnotically induced a positive state by having par-
ticipants review a pleasant episode in their lives; for the other, they hypnotically
induced a negative state by having participants review a traumatic event. A later
recall test was given under either a positive or a negative emotional state (again
hypnotically induced). Better memory was obtained when the emotional state
at test matched the emotional state at study.2
Not all research shows such mood-dependent effects. For instance, Bower
and Mayer (1985) failed to replicate the Bower et al. (1978) result. Eich and Met-
calfe (1989) found that mood-dependent effects tend to be obtained only when
participants integrate what they are studying with mood information. Thus, like
the effects of physical context, mood-dependent effects occur only in special
study situations.
While an effect of match between study and test mood is only sometimes
found, there is a more robust effect called mood congruence. This refers to
the fact that it is easier to remember happy memories when one is in a happy
state and sad memories when one is in a sad state. Mood congruence is an
2 As an aside, it is worth commenting that, despite popular reports, the best evidence is that hypnosis per se
does nothing to improve memory (see Hilgard, 1968; M. Smith, 1982; Lynn, Lock, Myers, & Payne, 1997),
although it can help memory to the extent that it can be used to re-create the contextual factors at the
time of test. However, much of a learning context can also be re-created by nonhypnotic means, such as
through free association about the circumstances of the event to be remembered (e.g., Geiselman, Fisher,
Mackinnon, & Holland, 1985).
Dry
8
9
10
11
12
13
Learning environment
M
ea
n
nu
m
be
r o
f w
or
ds
re
ca
lle
d
Wet
Wet recall environment
Dry recall environment
FIGURE 7.11 results of a study
by godden and Baddeley to in-
vestigate the effects of context on
participants’ recall of words. The
mean number of words recalled
is plotted as a function of the en-
vironment in which learning took
place. Participants recalled word
lists better in the same environ-
ment in which they were learned.
(Data from Godden & Baddeley,
1975.)
Anderson_8e_Ch07.indd 170 13/09/14 9:52 AM
A s s o C i AT i v e s T r u C T u r e A n d r e T r i e v A l / 171
effect of the content of the memories rather than
the emotional state of the participant during study.
For instance, Teasdale and Russell (1983) had par-
ticipants learn a list of positive, negative, and neu-
tral words in a normal state. Then, at test, they
induced either positive or negative states. Their
results, illustrated in Figure 7.12, show that partici-
pants recalled more of the words that matched their
mood at test. When a particular mood is created at
test, elements of that mood will prime memories
that share these elements. Thus, mood elements can
prime both memories whose content matches the
mood, as in the Teasdale and Russell experiment,
and memories that have such mood elements inte-
grated as part of the study procedure (as in Eich &
Metcalfe, 1989).
A related phenomenon is state-dependent
learning. People find it easier to recall information
if they can return to the same emotional and physi-
cal state they were in when they learned the infor-
mation. For instance, it is often casually claimed
that when heavy drinkers are sober, they are unable to remember where they
hid their alcohol when drunk, and when drunk, they are unable to remember
where they hid their money when sober. In fact, some experimental evidence
does exist for this state dependency of memory with respect to alcohol, but
the more important factor seems to be that alcohol has a general debilitating
effect on the acquisition of information (Parker, Birnbaum, & Noble, 1976).
Marijuana has been shown to have similar state-dependent effects. In one ex-
periment (Eich, Weingartner, Stillman, & Gillin, 1975), participants learned
a free-recall list after smoking either a marijuana cigarette or an ordinary
cigarette. Participants were tested 4 hours later—again after smoking either
a marijuana cigarette or a regular cigarette. Table 7.5 shows the results from
this study. Two effects were seen, both of which are typical of research on the
effects of psychoactive drugs on memory. First, there is a state-dependent ef-
fect reflected by better recall when the state at test matched the state at study.
Second, there is an overall higher level of recall when the material was studied
in a nonintoxicated state.
■ People show better memory if their external context and their in-
ternal states are the same at the time of study and the time of the test.
0.5
0.6
0.7
0.8
0.9
1.0
1.1
1.2
0
Mood state at test
W
or
ds
re
ca
lle
d
DepressionElation
Positive words
Neutral words
Negative words
FIGURE 7.12 results from
Teasdale and russell’s study of
mood congruence. The num-
ber of words recalled from a
previously studied list is plotted
against the mood state at test.
Participants recalled more of the
words that matched their mood
at test. (Data from Teasdale &
Russell, 1983.)
At Test (% correct)
At Study
Ordinary
Cigarette
Marijuana
Cigarette Average
ordinary cigarette 25 20 23
Marijuana cigarette 12 23 18
From eich, J., Weingartner, H., stillman, r. C., & gillin, J. C. (1975). state-dependent acces-
sibility of retrieval cues in the retention of a categorized list. Journal of Verbal Learning and
Verbal Behavior, 14, 408–417. Copyright © 1975 elsevier. reprinted by permission.
TABLE 7.5 state-dependent learning: The effects of drugged state at study
and at Test
Anderson_8e_Ch07.indd 171 13/09/14 9:52 AM
172 / Chapter 7 H u M A n M e M o r y : r e T e n T i o n A n d r e T r i e v A l
The Encoding-Specificity Principle
Memory for material can also depend heavily on the context of other material
to be learned in which it is embedded. A series of experiments (e.g., Tulving &
Thompson, 1973; Watkins & Tulving, 1975) has illustrated how memory for a
word can depend on how well the test context matches the original study con-
text. There were three phases to the experiment:
1. Original study: Watkins and Tulving had participants learn pairs of words
such as train–black and told them that they were responsible only for the
second word, referred to as the to-be-remembered word.
2. Generate and recognize: Participants were given words such as white and
asked to generate four free associates to the word. So, a participant might
generate snow, black, wool, and pure. The stimuli for the task were chosen
to have a high probability of eliciting the to-be-remembered word. For
instance, white has a high probability of eliciting black. Participants were
then told to indicate which of the four associates they generated was the
to-be-remembered word they had studied in the first phase. In cases where
the to-be-remembered word was generated, participants correctly chose it
only 54% of the time. Because participants were always forced to indicate a
choice, some of these correct choices must have been lucky guesses. Thus,
true recognition was even lower than 54%.
3. Cued recall: Participants were presented with the original context words
(e.g., train) and asked to recall the to-be-remembered words (i.e., black).
Participants recalled 61% of the words—higher than their recognition rate
without any correction for guessing. Moreover, Watkins and Tulving found
that 42% of the words recalled had not been recognized earlier when the
participants gave them as free associates.3
Recognition is usually superior to recall. Thus, we would expect that if par-
ticipants could not recognize a word, they would be unable to recall it. Usually,
we expect to do better on a multiple-choice test than on a recall-the-answer test.
Experiments such as the one just described provided very dramatic reversals
of such standard expectations. The results can be understood in terms of the
similarity of the test context to the study context. The test context with the word
white and its associates was quite different from the context in which black had
originally been studied. In the cued-recall test context, by contrast, partici-
pants were given the original context (train) with which they had studied the
word. Thus, if the contextual factors are sufficiently weighted in favor of recall,
as they were in these experiments, recall can be superior to recognition. Tulv-
ing interprets these results as illustrating what he calls the encoding-specificity
principle: The probability of recalling an item at test depends on the similarity
of its encoding at test to its original encoding at study.
■ People show better word memory if the words are tested in the con-
text of the same words with which they were studied.
◆ The Hippocampal Formation and Amnesia
In Chapter 6, we discussed the fictional character Leonard, who suffered amnesia
resulting from hippocampal damage. A large amount of evidence points to the
great importance of the hippocampal formation, a structure embedded within the
3 A great deal of research has been done on this phenomenon. For a review, read Nilsson and Gardiner
(1993).
Anderson_8e_Ch07.indd 172 13/09/14 9:52 AM
T H e H i P P o C A M PA l F o r M AT i o n A n d A M n e s i A / 173
temporal cortex, for the establishment of permanent memories. In animal stud-
ies (typically rats or primates; for a review, see Eichenbaum, Dudchenko, Wood,
Shapiro, & Tanila, 1999; Squire, 1992), lesions in the hippocampal formation pro-
duce severe impairments to the learning of new associations, particularly those
that require remembering combinations or configurations of elements. Damage
to the hippocampal area also produces severe amnesia (memory loss) in humans.
One of the most studied amnesic patients is known as HM.4 In 1953 when he was
27 years old, large parts of his temporal lobes were surgically removed to cure
epilepsy. He had one of the most profound amnesias ever recorded and was stud-
ied for decades. He had normal memories of his life up to the age of 16 but forgot
most of 11 years before the surgery. Moreover, he was almost totally unable to re-
member new events. He appeared in many ways as a normal person with a clear
self-identity, but his identity was largely as the person he was when he was 16
where his memories stopped (although he realized he was older and had learned
some general facts about the world). His surgical operation involved complete re-
moval of the hippocampus and surrounding structures, and this is considered the
reason for his profound memory deficits (Squire, 1992).
Only rarely is there a reason for surgically removing the hippocampal for-
mation from humans. However, for various reasons, humans can suffer severe
damage to this structure and the surrounding temporal lobe. One common
cause is a severe blow to the head, but other frequent causes include brain in-
fections (such as encephalitis) and chronic alcoholism, which can result in a
condition called Korsakoff syndrome. Such damage can result in two types of
amnesia: retrograde amnesia, which refers to the loss of memory for events
that occurred before the injury, and anterograde amnesia, which refers to an
inability to learn new things.
In the case of a blow to the head, the amnesia often is not permanent but
displays a particular pattern of recovery. Figure 7.13 displays the pattern of
recovery for a patient who was in a coma for 7 weeks following a closed head
injury. Tested 5 months after the injury, the patient showed total anterograde
amnesia—he could not remember what had happened since the injury. He
also displayed total retrograde amnesia for the 2 years preceding the injury
and substantial disturbance of memory beyond that. When tested 8 months
after the injury, the patient showed some ability to remember new experiences,
and the period of total retrograde amnesia had shrunk to 1 year. When tested
16 months after injury, the patient had full ability to remember new events and
had only a permanent 2-week period before the injury about which he could
remember nothing. It is characteristic that retrograde amnesia is for events
close in time to the injury and that events just before the injury are never
recovered. In general, anterograde and retrograde amnesia show this pattern
of occurring and recovering together, although in different patients either the
retrograde or the anterograde symptoms can be more severe.
A number of striking features characterize cases of amnesia. The first
is that anterograde amnesia can occur along with some preservation of long-
term memories. This was particularly the case for HM, who remembered many
things from his youth but was unable to learn new things. The existence of such
cases indicates that the neural structures involved in forming new memories are
distinct from those involved in maintaining old ones. It is thought that the hip-
pocampal formation is particularly important in creating new memories and
that old memories are maintained in the cerebral cortex. It is also thought that
events just prior to the injury are particularly susceptible to retrograde amnesia
4 Henry Gustav Molaison died at the age of 82. There is an interesting discussion of him in the New Yorker
article “The man who forgot everything.”
Anderson_8e_Ch07.indd 173 13/09/14 9:52 AM
174 / Chapter 7 H u M A n M e M o r y : r e T e n T i o n A n d r e T r i e v A l
because they still require the hippocampus for support. A second striking fea-
ture of these amnesia cases is that the memory deficit is not complete and there
are certain kinds of memories the patient can still acquire. This feature will be
discussed in the next section of this chapter, on implicit and explicit memory. A
third striking feature of amnesia is that patients can remember things for short
periods but then forget them. Thus, HM would be introduced to someone and
told the person’s name, would use that name for a short time, and would then
forget it after a half minute. Thus, the problem in anterograde amnesia is retain-
ing the memories for more than 5 or 10 seconds.
■ Patients with damage to the hippocampal formation show both ret-
rograde amnesia and anterograde amnesia.
◆ Implicit Versus Explicit Memory
Another famous case of amnesia involves the British musicologist Clive Wear-
ing, who suffered herpesviral encephalitis that attacked his brain, particu-
larly the hippocampus. His case is documented by his wife (Wearing, 2011)
in Forever Today: A Memoir of Love and Amnesia and in the ITV documen-
tary “The Man with a 7 Second Memory” (you can probably find videos by
Trauma
Coma
7 weeks
Examination
Gross disturbance
of memory back
to infancy
RA, total: 2 years AA, total:
not fixed
Trauma
Trauma
Coma
7 weeks
Coma
7 weeks
Examination
RA, partial:
4 years patchy
memory
RA, total: 1 year
RA, total:
2 weeks
Memory normal Memory
precise
A few
memories
recalled
AA, total:
3 months
AA, total:
3.5 months
Examination
23 weeks
Residual permanent memory loss
(a)
(b)
(c)
FIGURE 7.13 The pattern of a patient’s recovery from amnesia caused by a closed head
injury: (a) after 5 months; (b) after 8 months; (c) after 16 months. rA = retrograde
amnesia; AA = anterograde amnesia. (From Barbizet, J. (1970). Human memory and its
pathology. San Francisco: W. H. Freeman.)
Anderson_8e_Ch07.indd 174 13/09/14 9:52 AM
i M P l i C i T v e r s u s e x P l i C i T M e M o r y / 175
searching the Internet for “Clive Wearing”). He has
nearly no memory for his past at all, and yet he re-
mains a proficient pianist. Thus, while he cannot
explicitly recall any fact, he has perfect memory for
all that is needed to play a piano. This illustrates the
distinction between explicit memory, what we can
consciously recall, and implicit memory, what we
remember only in our actions.
While Clive Wearing is an extreme example,
we all have implicit memories for things that we
cannot consciously recall. However, because there
is no conscious involvement, we are not aware of
the extent of such memories. One example that
some people can relate to is memory for the loca-
tion of the keys of a computer keyboard. Many
proficient typists cannot recall the arrangement
of the keys except by imagining themselves typing
(Snyder, Ashitaka, Shimada, Ulrich, & Logan,
2014). Clearly, their fingers know where the keys
are, but they have no conscious access to this knowledge. Such implicit mem-
ory demonstrations highlight the significance of retrieval conditions in assess-
ing memory. If we asked the typists to tell us where the keys are, we would
conclude they had no knowledge of the keyboard. If we tested their typing, we
would conclude that they had perfect knowledge. This section discusses such
contrasts, or dissociations, between explicit and implicit memory. In the key-
board example above, explicit memory shows no knowledge, while implicit
memory shows total knowledge.
A considerable amount of research has been done on implicit memory in
amnesic patients. For instance, Graf, Squire, and Mandler (1984) compared
amnesic versus normal participants with respect to their memories for a list
of words such as banana. After studying these words, participants were asked
to recall them. The results are shown in Figure 7.14. Amnesic participants did
much worse than normal participants. Then participants were given a word-
completion task. They were shown the first three letters of a word they had
studied and were asked to make an English word out of it. For instance, they
might be asked to complete ban______. There is less than a 10% probability
that participants will generate the word (banana) just given the prompt without
studying it, but the results show that participants in both groups were coming
up with the studied word more than 50% of the time. Moreover, there was no
difference between the amnesic and normal participants in the word-comple-
tion task. So, the amnesic participants clearly did have memory for the word list,
although they could not gain conscious access to that memory in a free-recall
task. Rather, they displayed implicit memory in the word-completion task. The
patient HM was also capable of implicit learning. For example, he was able to
improve on various perceptual-motor tasks from one day to the next, although
each day he had no memory of the task from the previous day (Milner, 1962).
■ Amnesic patients often cannot consciously recall a particular event
but will show in implicit ways that they have some memory for the
event.
Implicit Versus Explicit Memory in Normal Participants
A great deal of research (for reviews, read Schacter, 1987; Richardson-Klavehn
& Bjork, 1988) has also looked at dissociations between implicit and explicit
Amnesic
10
0
20
30
40
50
60
Normal
Participants
Word completion
W
or
ds
re
ca
lle
d
(%
)
Word recall
FIGURE 7.14 results from an
experiment by graf, squire, and
Mandler comparing the ability
of amnesic patients and normal
participants to recall words stud-
ied versus the ability to complete
fragments of words studied.
Amnesic participants did much
worse than normal participants
on the word-recall task, but there
was no difference between the
amnesic and normal participants
in the word-completion task.
(Data from Graf, Squire, & Mandler,
1984.)
Anderson_8e_Ch07.indd 175 13/09/14 9:52 AM
176 / Chapter 7 H u M A n M e M o r y : r e T e n T i o n A n d r e T r i e v A l
memory in normal individuals. It is often impos-
sible with this population to obtain the dramatic
dissociations we see in amnesic individuals, who
can show no conscious memory but have nor-
mal implicit memory. It has been possible, how-
ever, to demonstrate that certain variables have
different effects on tests of explicit memory than
on tests of implicit memory. For instance, Jacoby
(1983) had participants just study a word such as
woman alone (the no-context condition), study it
in the presence of an antonym man–woman (the
context condition), or generate the word as an an-
tonym (the generate condition). In this last con-
dition, participants would see man and have to
say woman. Jacoby then tested the participants in
two ways, which were designed to tap either ex-
plicit memory or implicit memory. In the explicit
memory test, participants were presented with
a list of words, some studied and some not, and
asked to recognize the studied words. In the im-
plicit memory test, participants were presented with one word from the list for a
brief period (40 ms) and asked to identify the word. Figure 7.15 shows the results
from these two tests as a function of study condition.
Performance on the explicit memory test was best in the condition that
involved more semantic and generative processing—consistent with earlier re-
search we reviewed on elaborative processing. In contrast, performance on the
implicit perceptual identification test got worse. All three conditions showed bet-
ter perceptual identification than would have been expected if the participants
had not studied the word at all (only 60% correct perceptual identification). This
enhancement of perceptual recognition is referred to as priming. Jacoby argues
that participants show greatest priming in the no-context condition because this
is the study condition in which they had to rely most on a perceptual encoding
to identify the word. In the generate condition, participants did not even have a
word to read.5 Similar contrasts have been shown in memory for pictures: Elabo-
rative processing of a picture will improve explicit memory for the picture but
not affect perceptual processes in its identification (e.g., Schacter, Cooper, Dela-
ney, Peterson, & Tharan, 1991).
In another experiment, Jacoby and Witherspoon (1982) wondered
whether participants would display more priming for words they could recog-
nize than for words they could not. Participants first studied a set of words.
Then, in one phase of the experiment, they had to try to recognize explicitly
whether or not they had studied the words. In another phase, participants had
to simply say what word they had seen after a very brief presentation. Partic-
ipants showed better ability to identify the briefly presented words that they
had studied than words they had not studied. However, their identification
success was no different for words they had studied and could recognize than
for words they had studied but could not recognize. Thus, exposure to a word
improves normal participants’ ability to perceive that word (success of implicit
memory), even when they cannot recall having studied the word (failure of
explicit memory).
Implicit and Explicit Memory
No context
Recognition judgment
(explicit memory)
50
60
70
80
90
Context
Experimental condition
Co
rre
ct
ju
dg
m
en
t (
%
)
Generate
Perceptual identification
(implicit memory)
FIGURE 7.15 results from
Jacoby’s experiment demonstrat-
ing that certain variables have
different effects on tests of ex-
plicit memory than on tests of
implicit memory. The ability to
recognize a word in a memory
test versus the ability to identify
it in a perceptual test is plotted
as a function of how the word
was originally studied. (Data from
Jacoby, 1983.)
5 Not all research has found better implicit memory in the no-context condition. However, all research
finds an interaction between study condition and type of memory test. See Masson and MacLeod (1992)
for further discussion.
Anderson_8e_Ch07.indd 176 13/09/14 9:52 AM
i M P l i C i T v e r s u s e x P l i C i T M e M o r y / 177
Research comparing implicit and explicit memory suggests that the two types
of memory are realized rather differently in the brain. We have already noted that
amnesics with hippocampal damage show rather normal effects in studies of prim-
ing, whereas they can show dramatic deficits in explicit memory. Research with
the drug midazolam has produced similar deficits in normal patients. Midazolam
is used for sedation in patients undergoing surgery. It has been noted (Polster,
McCarthy, O’Sullivan, Gray, & Park, 1993) that it produces severe anterograde
amnesia for the period of time it is in a patient’s system, although the patient func-
tions normally during that period. Participants given the drug just before studying
a list of words showed greatly impaired explicit memory for the words they stud-
ied but intact priming for these words (Hirshman, Passannante, & Arndt, 2001).
Midazolam has its effect on the neurotransmitters that are found throughout the
brain but that are particularly abundant in the hippocampus and prefrontal cortex.
The explicit memory deficits it produces are consistent with the association of the
hippocampus and the prefrontal cortex with explicit memory. Its lack of implicit
memory effects suggests that implicit memories are stored elsewhere.
Neuroimaging studies suggest that implicit memories are stored in the cor-
tex. As we have discussed, there is increased hippocampal activity when memo-
ries are explicitly retrieved (Schacter & Badgaiyan, 2001). During priming, in
contrast, there is often decreased activity in cortical regions. For instance, in
one fMRI study (Koutstaal et al., 2001), priming produced decreased activation
in visual areas responsible for the recognition of pictures. The decreased activa-
tion that we see with priming reflects the fact that it is easier to recognize the
primed items. Therefore, the brain regions responsible for the perceptual pro-
cessing have to work less and so produce a weaker fMRI response.
A general interpretation of these results would seem to be that new explicit
memories are formed in the hippocampus; but with experience, this informa-
tion is transferred to the cortex. That is why hippocampal damage does not
eliminate old memories formed before the damage. The permanent knowl-
edge deposited in the cortex includes such information as word spelling and
what things look like. These cortical memories are strengthened when they are
primed and become more available in a later retest.
■ New explicit memories are built in hippocampal regions, but old
knowledge can be implicitly primed in cortical structures.
Procedural Memory
Implicit memory is defined as memory without conscious awareness. By this
definition, rather different things can be considered implicit memories. Some-
times, implicit memories involve perceptual information relevant to recog-
nizing the words. These memories result in the priming effects we saw in
experiments such as in Figure 7.15. In other cases, implicit memories involve
knowledge about how to perform tasks. An important type of implicit memory
involves procedural knowledge, such as riding a bike. Most of us have learned
to ride a bike but have no conscious ability to say what it is we have learned.
Memory for such procedural knowledge is spared in amnesic individuals.
An experiment by Berry and Broadbent (1984) involved a procedural
learning task with a more cognitive character than riding a bike. They asked
participants to try to control the output of a hypothetical sugar factory (which
was simulated by a computer program) by manipulating the size of the
workforce. Participants would see the month’s sugar output of the factory in
thousands of tons (e.g., 6,000 tons) and then have to choose the next month’s
workforce in hundreds of workers (e.g., 700). They would then see the next
month’s output of sugar (e.g., 8,000 tons) and have to pick the workforce for
Anderson_8e_Ch07.indd 177 13/09/14 9:52 AM
178 / Chapter 7 H u M A n M e M o r y : r e T e n T i o n A n d r e T r i e v A l
the following month. Table 7.6 shows a series of interactions
with the hypothetical sugar factory. The goal was to keep
sugar production within the range of 8,000 to 10,000 tons.
One can try to infer the rule relating sugar output to labor
force in Table 7.6; it is not particularly obvious. The sugar out-
put in thousands of tons (S) was related to the workforce in-
put in hundreds (W), and the previous month’s sugar output in
thousands of tons (S1), by the following formula:
S 5 (2 3W ) 2 S1.
(In addition, a random fluctuation of 1,000 tons of sugar is
sometimes added, and S and W stay within the bounds of 1 to
12.) Oxford undergraduates were given 60 trials at trying to
control the factory. Over those 60 trials, they got quite profi-
cient at controlling the output of the sugar factory. However, they were unable
to state what the rule was and claimed they made their responses on the ba-
sis of “some sort of intuition” or because it “felt right.” Thus, participants were
able to acquire implicit knowledge of how to operate such a factory without
acquiring corresponding explicit knowledge. Amnesic participants have also
been shown to be capable of learning this information (Phelps, 1989).
Sequence learning (Curran, 1995) has also been used to study the nature
of procedural memory, including its realization in the brain. There are a num-
ber of sequence-learning models, but in the basic procedure, a participant ob-
serves a sequence of lights flash and must press corresponding buttons. For
instance, there may be four lights with a button under each, and the task is
to press the buttons in the same order as the lights flash. The typical manipu-
lation is to introduce a repeating sequence of lights and contrast how much
faster participants can press the keys in this sequence than when the lights are
random. For instance, in the original Nissen and Bullemer (1987) study, the
repeating sequence might be 4-2-3-1-3-2-4-3-2-1. People are faster with such
a repeating sequence than when the lights come up in a random order. There
has been much interest in whether participants are aware that there is a re-
peating sequence. In some experiments, they are aware of the repetition; but
in many others, they are not. They tend not to notice the repeating sequence
when the experimental pace is fast or when they are performing some other
secondary task. Participants are faster at the repeated sequence whether they
are aware of it or not.
It does not appear that the hippocampus is critical to developing profi-
ciency in the repeated sequence, because amnesics show an advantage for the
repeated sequence, as do normal patients with pharmacologically induced
amnesia. On the other hand, a set of subcortical structures, collectively called
the basal ganglia (see Figure 1.8), does appear to be critical for sequence learn-
ing. It has long been known that the basal ganglia are critical to motor control,
because it is damage to these structures that produces the deficits associated
with Huntington’s and Parkinson’s diseases, which are characterized by un-
controlled movements. However, there are rich connections between the basal
ganglia and the prefrontal cortex, and it is now known that the basal ganglia
are important in cognitive functions. They have been shown to be active dur-
ing the learning of a number of skills, including sequence learning (Middleton
& Strick, 1994). One advantage of sequence learning is that it is a cognitive
skill that one can teach to nonhuman primates and so perform detailed stud-
ies of its neural basis. Such primate studies have shown that the basal ganglia
are critical to early learning of a sequence. For instance, Miyachi, Hikosaka,
Miyashita, Karadi, and Rand (1997) were able to impair early sequential learn-
ing in monkeys by injecting their basal ganglia with a chemical that temporally
Workforce Input
(W)
Sugar Output (tons)
(S)
700 8,000
900 10,000
800 7,000
1,000 12,000
900 6,000
1,000 12,000
1,000 8,000
TABLE 7.6 Procedural Memory: An illustrative
series of inputs and outputs for a Hypothetical
sugar Factory
Anderson_8e_Ch07.indd 178 13/09/14 9:52 AM
C o n C l u s i o n s : T H e M A n y v A r i e T i e s o F M e M o r y i n T H e B r A i n / 179
inactivated it. Other neural structures appear to be involved in sequence learn-
ing as well. For instance, similar chemical inactivation of structures in the cer-
ebellum impairs later learning of a sequence. All in all, the evidence is pretty
compelling that procedural learning involves structures different from those
involved in explicit learning.
■ Procedural learning is another type of implicit learning and is sup-
ported by the basal ganglia.
◆ Conclusions: The Many Varieties of Memory
in the Brain
Squire (1987) proposed that there are many different varieties of memory.
Figure 7.16 reproduces his classification. The major distinction is between ex-
plicit and implicit memory, which he calls declarative memory and nonde-
clarative memory. Declarative memory basically refers to factual memories we
can explicitly recall. It appears that the hippocampus is particularly important
for the establishment of declarative memories. Within the declarative memory
system, there is a distinction between episodic and semantic memory. Epi-
sodic memories include information about where and when they were learned.
For example, a memory of a particular newscast can be considered an episodic
memory. This chapter and Chapter 6 have discussed these kinds of memories.
Semantic memories, discussed in Chapter 5, reflect general knowledge of the
world, such as what a dog is or what a restaurant is.
Figure 7.16 makes it clear that there are many kinds of nondeclarative, or
implicit, memories. We have just completed a discussion of procedural memo-
ries and the critical role of the basal ganglia and cerebellum in their formation.
We also talked about priming and the fact that priming seems to entail changes
to cortical regions directly responsible for processing the information involved.
There are other kinds of learning that we have not discussed but that are par-
ticularly important in studies of animal learning. These include conditioning,
habituation, and sensitization, all of which have been demonstrated in species
ranging from sea slugs to humans. Evidence suggests that such conditioning
in mammals involves many different brain structures (J. R. Anderson, 2000).
Many different brain structures are involved in learning, and these different
brain structures support different kinds of learning.
Memory
Semantic
(facts )
Episodic
(events)
Procedural skills
(e.g., motor,
perceptual,
cognitive )
Priming
(perceptual,
semantic )
Conditioning Nonassociative
(habituation,
sensitization )
Declarative Nondeclarative
FIGURE 7.16 The varieties of memory proposed by squire. (From Squire, L. R. (1987).
Memory and brain (Figure 4.4, p. 170). Copyright © 1987 by Oxford University Press,
Inc. By permission of Oxford University Press, USA.)
Anderson_8e_Ch07.indd 179 13/09/14 9:52 AM
180 / Chapter 7 H u M A n M e M o r y : r e T e n T i o n A n d r e T r i e v A l
Questions for Thought
1. One of the exceptions to the decay of memories
with time is the “reminiscence bump” (Berntsen
& Rubin, 2002)—people show better memory for
events that occurred in their late teens and early
20s than for memories earlier or later. What might
be the explanation of this effect?
2. The story is told about David Starr Jordan, an ich-
thyologist (someone who studies fish), who was
the first president of Stanford University. He tried
to remember the names of all the students but
found that whenever he learned the name of a stu-
dent, he forgot the name of a fish. Does this seem
a plausible example of interference in memory?
3. Do the false memories created in the Deese-
Roediger-McDermott paradigm reflect the same
sort of underlying processes as false memories of
childhood events?
4. It is sometimes recommended that students study
for an exam in the same room that they will be
tested in. According to the study of Eich (1985;
see discussion on p. 170), how would one have to
study to make this an effective procedure? Would
this be a reasonable way to study for an exam?
5. Squire’s classification in Figure 7.16 would seem
to imply that implicit and explicit memories
involve different memory systems and brain
structures—one called declarative and the other,
nondeclarative. However, Reder, Park, and Keif-
faber (2009) argue that the same memory system
and brain structures sometimes display memo-
ries that we are consciously aware of and others
of which we are not. How could one determine
whether implicit memory and explicit memory
correspond to different memory systems?
Key Terms
amnesia
anterograde amnesia
decay theory
declarative memory
Deese-Roediger-
McDermott paradigm
dissociations
encoding-specificity
principle
explicit memory
false-memory syndrome
fan effect
implicit memory
interference theory
Korsakoff syndrome
mood congruence
power law of forgetting
priming
procedural knowledge
retrograde amnesia
state-dependent learning
Anderson_8e_Ch07.indd 180 13/09/14 9:52 AM
181
Human ability to solve novel problems greatly surpasses that of any other species.
This ability stems from the advanced evolution of our prefrontal cortex as noted
earlier, the prefrontal cortex plays a crucial role in a number of higher level cognitive
functions, such as language, imagery, and memory. It is generally thought that the
prefrontal cortex performs more than just these specific functions, that it also plays a
major role in the overall organization of behavior. The regions of the prefrontal cortex
that we have discussed so far tend to be ventral (toward the bottom) and posterior
(toward the back), and many of these regions are left lateralized. In contrast, dorsal
(toward the top), anterior (toward the front), and right-hemisphere prefrontal struc-
tures tend to be more involved in the organization of behavior.
Goel and Grafman (2000) describe a patient, PF, who suffered damage to his
right anterior prefrontal cortex as the result of a stroke. Like many patients with dam-
age to the prefrontal cortex, PF appears normal and even intelligent, scoring in the
superior range on an intelligence test. Nonetheless, for all these surface appearances
of normality, there were profound intellectual deficits. He had been a successful
architect before his stroke but was forced to retire because he had lost his ability to
design. He was able to get some work as a draftsman. Goel and Grafman gave PF
a problem that involved redesigning their laboratory space. Although he was able to
speak coherently about the problem, he was unable to make any real progress on
the solution. A comparably trained architect without brain damage achieved a good
solution in a couple of hours. It seems that the stroke affected only PF’s most highly
developed intellectual abilities.
This chapter and Chapter 9 will look at what we know about human problem
solving. In this chapter, we will answer the following questions:
● What does it mean to characterize human problem solving as a search of a
problem space?
● How do humans learn methods, called operators, for searching a problem
space?
● How do humans select among different operators for searching a problem
space?
● How can past experience affect the availability of different operators and the
success of problem-solving efforts?
◆ The Nature of Problem Solving
A Comparative Perspective on Problem Solving
Although humans have larger brains than many species, the more dramatic
difference is the relative size of the prefrontal cortex, as Figure 8.1 illustrates.
8
Problem Solving
Anderson_8e_Ch08.indd 181 13/09/14 9:55 AM
182 / Chapter 8 P r o b L e m S o Lv I N G
The larger prefrontal cortex supports the advanced problem solving that only
humans are capable of. Nonetheless, one can find instances of interesting
problem solving in other species, particularly in the higher apes such as
chimpanzees. The study of problem solving in other species offers perspective
on our own abilities. Köhler (1927) performed some of the classic studies on
chimpanzee problem solving. Köhler was a famous German Gestalt psychologist
who came to America in the 1930s. During World War I, he found himself
trapped on Tenerife in the Canary Islands. On the island, he found a colony of
captive chimpanzees, which he studied, taking particular interest in the problem-
solving behavior of the animals. His best participant was a chimpanzee named
Sultan. One problem posed to Sultan was to get some bananas that were outside
his cage. Sultan had no difficulty when he was given a stick that could reach the
bananas; he simply used the stick to pull the bananas into the cage. The problem
became harder when Sultan was provided with two poles, neither of which could
reach the food. After unsuccessfully trying to use the
poles to get to the food, the frustrated ape sulked in
his cage. Suddenly, he went over to the poles and put
one inside the other, creating a pole long enough to
reach the bananas (Figure 8.2). Clearly, Sultan had
creatively solved the problem.
What are the essential features that qualify this
episode as an instance of problem solving? There
seem to be three:
Squirrel monkey Cat Rhesus monkey
HumanChimpanzeeDog
Brain Structures
FIGURE 8.1 The relative proportions of the brain given over to the prefrontal cortex in six
mammals. Note that these brains are not drawn to scale; in particular, the human brain
is really much larger than it appears here relative to the other brains. (From Fuster, J. M.
(1989). The prefrontal cortex: Anatomy, physiology, and neuropsychology of the frontal lobe.
New York: Raven Press. Copyright © 1989. Reprinted by permission of the author, J.M. Fuster.)
FIGURE 8.2 Köhler’s ape, Sultan,
solved the two-stick problem by
joining two short sticks to form
a pole long enough to reach the
food outside his cage. (From
Köhler, W. (1956). The mentality of
apes. Copyright © 1956 Routledge
& Kegan Paul. Reprinted by
permission.)
1. Goal directedness. The behavior is clearly or-
ganized toward a goal—in this case, getting the
food.
2. Subgoal decomposition. If Sultan could have
obtained the food simply by reaching for it, the
behavior would have been problem solving, but
only in the most trivial sense. The essence of the
Anderson_8e_Ch08.indd 182 13/09/14 9:55 AM
T H e N AT u r e o F P r o b L e m S o Lv I N G / 183
problem solution is that the ape had to decompose the original goal into
subtasks, or subgoals, such as getting the poles and putting them together.
3. Operator application. Decomposing the overall goal into subgoals is useful
because the ape knows operators that can help him achieve these subgoals.
The term operator refers to an action that will transform the problem
state into another problem state. The solution of the overall problem is a
sequence of these known operators.
■ Problem solving is goal-directed behavior that often involves set-
ting subgoals to enable the application of operators.
The Problem-Solving Process: Problem Space
and Search
Often, problem solving is described in terms of searching a problem space, which
consists of various states of the problem. A state is a representation of the prob-
lem in some degree of solution. The initial situation of the problem is referred
to as the start state; the situations on the way to the goal, as intermediate states;
and the goal, as the goal state. Beginning from the start state, there are many
ways the problem solver can choose to change the state. Sultan could reach for a
stick, stand on his head, sulk, or try other approaches. Suppose he reaches for a
stick. Now he has entered a new state. He can transform it into another state—for
example, by letting go of the stick (thereby returning to the earlier state), reach-
ing for the food with the stick, throwing the stick at the food, or reaching for the
other stick. Suppose he reaches for the other stick. Again, he has created a new
state. From this state, Sultan can choose to try, say, walking on the sticks, putting
them together, or eating them. Suppose he chooses to put the sticks together. He
can then choose to reach for the food, throw the sticks away, or separate them. If
he reaches for the food and pulls it into his cage, he will achieve the goal state.
The various states that the problem solver can achieve define a problem
space, also called a state space. Problem-solving operators can be thought of
as ways to change one state in the problem space into another. We can think of
the problem space as a maze of states and of the operators as paths for moving
among them. The challenge is to find some possible sequence of operators in
the problem space that leads from the start state to the goal state. Given such a
characterization, solving a problem can be described as engaging in a search;
that is, the problem solver must find an appropriate path through a maze of
states. This conception of problem solving as a search through a state space was
developed by Allen Newell and Herbert Simon, who were dominant figures in
cognitive science throughout their careers, and it has become the major problem-
solving approach, in both cognitive psychology and artificial intelligence.
A problem-space characterization consists of a set of states and operators
for moving among the states. A good example of problem-space characteriza-
tion is the eight puzzle, which consists of eight numbered, movable tiles set
in a 3 3 3 frame. One cell of the frame is always empty, making it possible to
move an adjacent tile into the empty cell and thereby to “move” the empty cell
as well. The goal is to achieve a particular configuration of tiles, starting from a
different configuration. For instance, a problem might be to transform
into
2 1 6
84
7 5 3
1 2 3
48
7 6 5
Anderson_8e_Ch08.indd 183 13/09/14 9:55 AM
184 / Chapter 8 P r o b L e m S o Lv I N G
(a) (b) (c) (d) (e) (f) (g)
(p)(o) (q) (r) (s) (t) (u)
(m)(n) (l) (k) ( j) (i) (h)
2 1 6
84
7 5 3
2 1 6
84
7 5 3
(w) (v)
2 6 4
7 5
18 3
(x)
2 4
67 5
18 3
(y)
2 4
67 5
8
1 3
(z)
2 4
67 5
8
1 3
Goal state
2
67 5
48
1 3
8 4
6
2 7 5
1 3
8
6
4
2 7 5
1 3
8 4
2 7 5
1 3
6 8 4
2 7 5
6
1 3 8
4
2 7 5
6
1 3
2
7 5
46
8 1 3
2 4
8
1 6
7 5
3
2
8
1 6
4
7 5
3
2
1 6
8
4
7 5
3
2 8
7 5
61 4
32
87 5
61 4
32 4
87 5
1 6
3
1 6
2 4
87 5
3
2
1 6
84
7 5 3
1 6
2 84
7 5 3
1 6
2 8
4
7 5 3
2 8
1 64
7 5 3
8 4
7 5
2
1 36
2
1
4
7 5
36
8
4
5
3
7
18
2
6
FIGURE 8.3 The author’s
sequence of moves for
solving an eight puzzle.
2
1 6
8
4
7 5
3
2
1
6
8
4
7 5
3
2
1
6
8
4
7 5
3
2
1
6
8
4
7 5
3
2
1
68
4
7 5
3
2
1
6 8 4
7 5
3 2
1
6
8
4
7 5
3 2
1
6
8
47
5
3
2
1
6
8
4
7 5
3
2
1 6
8
4
7 5
32
1
6
8
4
7 5
3
2 1
6
8
4
7 5
3 2
1
6
8
47
5
3 2
1
6
8 4
7 5
3 2
1
6
8 4
7 5
3
2 1
6
8
4
7 5
3 2
1
6
8
47
5
3 21
6
8 4
7 5
3
2
1
6
8
4
7 5
3 2
1
6
8
4
7 5
3 2
1
6
8 4
7 5
3 2
1
6
8
4
7 5
3
2
1 6
8
4
7 5
3
2
1
6 8 4
7 5
3 2
1
6 8 4
7 5
3 2
1
6
8
4
7 5
3
2
1
6
8
4
7
5
3 2
1
6
8
47
5
3 2
1
6
8
47
5
3
2 1
6
8
4
7 5
3
2
1
6
8
4
7 5
3 2
16
8
47
5
3 2
1
6
8
47
5
3 1
57
2
48
6
3 21
6
8 47
5
3
Goal state
Start state
Anderson_8e_Ch08.indd 184 13/09/14 9:55 AM
T H e N AT u r e o F P r o b L e m S o Lv I N G / 185
into
2
1
8
4
7 5
3 1 2 3
48
7 6 5
6
2
1 6
8
4
7 5
3
2
1
6
8
4
7 5
3
2
1
6
8
4
7 5
3
2
1
6
8
4
7 5
3
2
1
68
4
7 5
3
2
1
6 8 4
7 5
3 2
1
6
8
4
7 5
3 2
1
6
8
47
5
3
2
1
6
8
4
7 5
3
2
1 6
8
4
7 5
32
1
6
8
4
7 5
3
2 1
6
8
4
7 5
3 2
1
6
8
47
5
3 2
1
6
8 4
7 5
3 2
1
6
8 4
7 5
3
2 1
6
8
4
7 5
3 2
1
6
8
47
5
3 21
6
8 4
7 5
3
2
1
6
8
4
7 5
3 2
1
6
8
4
7 5
3 2
1
6
8 4
7 5
3 2
1
6
8
4
7 5
3
2
1 6
8
4
7 5
3
2
1
6 8 4
7 5
3 2
1
6 8 4
7 5
3 2
1
6
8
4
7 5
3
2
1
6
8
4
7
5
3 2
1
6
8
47
5
3 2
1
6
8
47
5
3
2 1
6
8
4
7 5
3
2
1
6
8
4
7 5
3 2
16
8
47
5
3 2
1
6
8
47
5
3 1
57
2
48
6
3 21
6
8 47
5
3
Goal state
Start state
The possible states of this problem are represented as configurations of
tiles in the eight puzzle. So, the first configuration shown is the start state, and
the second is the goal state. The operators that change the states are move-
ments of tiles into empty spaces. Figure 8.3 reproduces an attempt of mine to
solve this problem. My solution involved 26 moves, each move being an opera-
tor that changed the state of the problem. This sequence of operators is con-
siderably longer than necessary. Try to find a shorter sequence of moves. (The
shortest sequence possible is given in the appendix at the end of the chapter, in
Figure A8.1.)
Often, discussions of problem solving involve the use of search graphs or
search trees. Figure 8.4 gives a partial search tree for the following, simpler
eight-tile problem:
FIGURE 8.4 Part of the search tree, five moves deep, for an eight-tile problem. (From
Nilsson, N. J. (1971). Problem-solving methods in artificial intelligence. Copyright © 1971
McGraw Hill. Reprinted by permission.)
Anderson_8e_Ch08.indd 185 13/09/14 9:55 AM
186 / Chapter 8 P r o b L e m S o Lv I N G
Figure 8.4 is like an upside-down tree with a single trunk and branches
leading out from it. This tree begins with the start state and represents all states
reachable from this state, then all states reachable from those states, and so on.
Any path through such a tree represents a possible sequence of moves that a
problem solver might make. By generating a complete tree, we can also find
the shortest sequence of operators between the start state and the goal state.
Figure 8.4 illustrates some of the problem space. In discussions of such exam-
ples, often only a path through the problem space that leads to the solution is
presented (for instance, see Figure 8.3). Figure 8.4 gives a better idea of the size
of the problem space of possible moves for this kind of problem.
This search space terminology describes possible steps that the problem
solver might take. It leaves two important questions that we need to answer be-
fore we can explain the behavior of a particular problem solver. First, what de-
termines the operators available to the problem solver? Second, how does the
problem solver select a particular operator when there are several available? An
answer to the first question determines the search space in which the problem
solver is working. An answer to the second question determines which path the
problem solver takes. We will discuss these questions in the next two sections,
focusing first on the origins of the problem-solving operators and then on the
issue of operator selection.
■ Problem-solving operators generate a space of possible states
through which the problem solver must search to find a path to the
goal.
◆ Problem-Solving Operators
Acquisition of Operators
There are at least three ways to acquire new problem-solving operators. We can
acquire new operators by discovery, by being told about them, or by observing
someone else use them.
Discovery We might find that a new service station has opened nearby and so
learn by discovery a new operator for repairing our car. Children might discover
that their parents are particularly susceptible to temper tantrums and so learn a
new operator for getting what they want. We might discover how a new micro-
wave oven works by playing with it and so learn a new operator for preparing
food. Or a scientist might discover a new drug that kills bacteria and so invent a
new operator for combating infections. Each of these examples involves a vari-
ety of reasoning processes. These processes will be one topic in Chapter 10.
Although operator discovery can involve complex reasoning in humans, it
is the only method that most other creatures have to learn new operators, and
they certainly do not engage in complex reasoning. In a famous study reported
in 1898, Thorndike placed cats in “puzzle boxes.” The boxes could be opened by
various nonobvious means. For instance, in one box, if the cat hit a loop of wire,
the door would fall open. The cats, which were hungry, were rewarded with
food when they got out. Initially, a cat would move about randomly, clawing at
the box and behaving ineffectively in other ways until it happened to hit the un-
latching device. After repeated trials in the same puzzle box, the cats eventually
arrived at a point where they would immediately hit the unlatching device and
get out. A controversy exists to this day over whether the cats ever really “un-
derstood” the new operator they had acquired or just gradually formed a mind-
less association between being in the box and hitting the unlatching device. It
has been argued that it need not be an either–or situation. Daw, Niv, and Dayan
Anderson_8e_Ch08.indd 186 13/09/14 9:55 AM
P r o b L e m – S o Lv I N G o P e r ATo r S / 187
(2005) review evidence that there are two bases for learning such operators
from experience—one involves the basal ganglia (see Figure 1.8), where simple
associations are gradually reinforced, whereas the other involves the prefrontal
cortex, where a mental model is built of how these operators work. It is reason-
able to suppose that the second system becomes more important in mammals
with larger prefrontal cortices.
Learning by Being Told or by Example We can acquire new operators
by being told about them or by observing someone else use them. These are
examples of social learning. The first method is a uniquely human accomplish-
ment because it depends on language. The second is a capacity thought to be
common in primates: “Monkey see, monkey do.” However, the capacity of non-
human primates for learning by imitation has often been overestimated.
It might seem that the most efficient way to learn new problem-solving op-
erators would be simply to be told about them, but seeing an example is often at
least as effective as being told what to do. Table 8.1 shows two forms of instruc-
tion about an algebraic concept, called a pyramid expression, which is novel to
most undergraduates. Students either study part (a), which gives a semiformal
specification of what a pyramid expression is, or they study part (b), which
gives the single example of a pyramid expression. After reading one instruction
or the other, they are asked to evaluate pyramid expressions like
10$2
Which form of instruction do you think would be most useful? Carnegie Mellon
undergraduates show comparable levels of learning from the single example in
part (b) to what they learn from the specification in part (a). Sometimes, examples
can be the superior means of instruction. For instance, Reed and Bolstad (1991)
had participants learn to solve problems such as the following:
An expert can complete a technical task in five hours, but a novice
requires seven hours to do the same task. When they work together,
the novice works two hours more than the expert. How long does the
expert work? (p. 765)
Participants received instruction in how to use the following equation to solve
the problem:
rate1 3 time1 3 rate2 3 time2 5 tasks
The participants needed to acquire problem-solving operators for assigning
values to the terms in this equation. The participants either received abstract
(a) Direct Specification
(b) Just an Example
TABLE 8.1 Instruction for Pyramid Problems
N$m is a pyramid expression for designating repeated addition where each
term in the sum is one less than the previous.
N, the base, is the first term in the sum.
m, the height, is the number of terms you add to the base.
7$3 is an example of a pyramid expression.
7$3 = 7 + 6 + 5 + 4 = 22
7 is the
base
3 is the
height
⎫⎬⎭
Anderson_8e_Ch08.indd 187 13/09/14 9:55 AM
188 / Chapter 8 P r o b L e m S o Lv I N G
instruction about how to make these assignments or saw a simple example
of how the assignments were made. There was also a condition in which
participants saw both the abstract instruction and the example. Participants
given the abstract instruction were able to solve only 13% of a set of later prob-
lems; participants given an example solved 28% of the problems; and partici-
pants given both instruction and an example were able to solve 40%.
It has now been shown many times that providing worked examples is one
of the most effective methods of instruction for problem-solving skills like al-
gebra (for a review, see Lee & Anderson, 2013). The worked examples provide
expert solutions that students can emulate, and the worked examples are usu-
ally alternated with problems so that the students can practice solving on their
own. A large number of studies compared learning by worked examples with
instructional explanation and without instructional explanation (see Wittwer &
Renkl, 2010 for a review). Sometimes providing instruction in addition to exam-
ples actually hurts, sometimes there is no effect, and sometimes it does help, as
in the Reed and Bolstad study above. To the extent that students can explain for
themselves how the examples work, they can benefit more by explaining it for
themselves than by reading someone else’s explanation. However, sometimes ex-
amples can be obscure and lead to incorrect conclusions without an explanation.
A classic example from mathematics involves showing children an example like
3 3 2 1 5 5 6 1 5 5 11
and then asking them to solve
4 1 6 3 2 5 ?
Many children will give 20 as the answer, mistakenly adding 4 and 6 and then
multiplying that by 2. Instruction can alert them to the fact that they should
always perform multiplication first, rather than perform the first operation in
the expression.
■ Problem-solving operators can be acquired by discovery, by mod-
eling example problem solutions, or by direct instruction.
Analogy and Imitation
Analogy is the process by which a problem solver extracts the operators used to
solve one problem and maps them onto a solution for another problem. Some-
times, the analogy process can be straightforward. For instance, a student may
take the structure of an example worked out in a section of a mathematics text
and map it into the solution for a problem in the exercises at the end of the sec-
tion. At other times, the transformations can be more complex. Rutherford, for
example, used the solar system as a model for the structure of the atom, in which
electrons revolve around the nucleus of the atom in the same way as the planets
revolve around the sun (Koestler, 1964; Gentner, 1983—see Table 8.2). This is a
particularly famous example of the frequent use of analogy in science and engi-
neering. In one study, Christensen and Schunn (2007) found that engineers made
102 analogies in 9 hours of problem solving (see also Dunbar & Blanchette, 2001).
An example of the power of analogy in problem solving is provided in an
experiment of Gick and Holyoak (1980). They presented their participants with
the following problem, which is adapted from Duncker (1945):
Suppose you are a doctor faced with a patient who has a malignant
tumor in his stomach. It is impossible to operate on the patient, but
unless the tumor is destroyed, the patient will die. There is a kind
of ray that can be used to destroy the tumor. If the rays reach the
Anderson_8e_Ch08.indd 188 13/09/14 9:55 AM
P r o b L e m – S o Lv I N G o P e r ATo r S / 189
tumor all at once at a sufficiently high intensity, the tumor will be
destroyed. Unfortunately, at this intensity the healthy tissue that the
rays pass through on the way to the tumor will also be destroyed. At
lower intensities the rays are harmless to healthy tissue, but they will
not affect the tumor either. What type of procedure might be used to
destroy the tumor with the rays, and at the same time avoid destroying
the healthy tissue? (pp. 307–308)
This is a very difficult problem, and few people are able to solve it. However,
Gick and Holyoak presented their participants with the following story:
A small country was ruled from a strong fortress by a dictator. The
fortress was situated in the middle of the country, surrounded by
farms and villages. Many roads led to the fortress through the coun-
tryside. A rebel general vowed to capture the fortress. The general
knew that an attack by his entire army would capture the fortress. He
gathered his army at the head of one of the roads, ready to launch a
full-scale direct attack. However, the general then learned that the dic-
tator had planted mines on each of the roads. The mines were set so
that small bodies of men could pass over them safely, since the dictator
needed to move his troops and workers to and from the fortress. How-
ever, any large force would detonate the mines. Not only would this
blow up the road, but it would also destroy many neighboring villages.
It therefore seemed impossible to capture the fortress. However, the
general devised a simple plan. He divided his army into small groups
and dispatched each group to the head of a different road. When all
was ready he gave the signal and each group marched down
a different road. Each group continued down its road to the
fortress so that the entire army arrived together at the for-
tress at the same time. In this way, the general captured the
fortress and overthrew the dictator. (p. 351)
Told to use this story as the model for a solution, most partici-
pants were able to develop an analogous operation to solve the
tumor problem.
An interesting example of a solution by analogy that did not
quite work is a geometry problem encountered by one student.
Figure 8.5a illustrates the steps of a solution that the text gave
as an example, and Figure 8.5b illustrates the student’s attempts
to use that example proof to guide his solution to a homework
problem. In Figure 8.5a, two segments of a line are given as
equal length, and the goal is to prove that two larger segments
have equal length. In Figure 8.5b, the student is given two line
Base Domain: Solar System Target Domain: Atom
The sun attracts the planets. The nucleus attracts the electrons.
The sun is larger than the planets. The nucleus is larger than the electrons.
The planets revolve around the sun. The electrons revolve around the nucleus.
The planets revolve around the sun The electrons revolve around the nucleus
because of the attraction and weight because of the attraction and
difference. weight difference.
The planet earth has life on it. No transfer.
reprinted from Gentner, D. (1983). Structure-mapping: A theoretical framework for analogy.
Cognitive Science, 7, 155–170. Copyright © 1983, with permission from elsevier.
TABLE 8.2 The Solar System–Atom Analogy
R
(a)
O
N
Y
Given: RO = NY, RONY
Prove: RN = OY
RO = NY
ON = ON
RO + ON = ON + NY
RONY
RO + NY = RN
ON + NY = OY
RN = OY
A
(b)
B
C
D
AB > CD
BC > BC
!!!
Given: AB > CD, ABCD
Prove: AC > BD
FIGURE 8.5 (a) A worked-out
proof problem given in a geom-
etry text. (b) one student’s at-
tempt to use the structure of this
problem’s solution to guide his
solution of a similar problem. This
example illustrates how analogy
can be used (and misused) for
problem solving.
Anderson_8e_Ch08.indd 189 13/09/14 9:55 AM
190 / Chapter 8 P r o b L e m S o Lv I N G
segments with AB longer than CD, and his task is to prove the same inequality
for two larger segments, AC and BD.
The student noted the obvious similarity between the two problems
and proceeded to develop the apparent analogy. He thought he could simply
substitute points on one line for points on another, and inequality for equality.
That is, he tried to substitute A for R, B for O, C for N, D for Y, and > for 5. With
these substitutions, he got the first line correct: Analogous to RO 5 NY, he wrote
AB . CD. Then he had to write something analogous to ON 5 ON, so he wrote
BC . BC! This example illustrates how analogy can be used to create operators
for problem solving and also shows that it requires some sophistication to use
analogy correctly.
Another difficulty with analogy is finding appropriate examples from
which to analogize operators. Often, participants do not notice when an anal-
ogy is possible. Gick and Holyoak (1980) did an experiment in which they read
participants the story about the general and the dictator and then gave them
Duncker’s (1945) ray problem (both shown earlier in this section). Very few
participants spontaneously noticed the relevance of the first story to solving the
second. To achieve success, participants had to be explicitly told to use the gen-
eral and dictator story as an analogy for solving the ray problem.
When participants do spontaneously use previous examples to solve a
problem, they are often guided by superficial similarities in their choice of
examples. For instance, B. H. Ross (1984, 1987) taught participants several
methods for solving probability problems. These methods were taught by refer-
ence to specific examples, such as finding the probability that a pair of tossed
dice will sum to 7. Participants were then tested with new problems that were
superficially similar to prior examples. The similarity was superficial because
both the example and the problem involved the same content (e.g., dice) but
not necessarily the same principle of probability. Participants tried to solve the
new problem by using the operators illustrated in the superficially similar prior
example. When that example illustrated the same principle as required in the
current problem, participants were able to solve the problem. When it did not,
they were unable to solve the current problem. Reed (1987) has found similar
results with algebra story problems.
In solving homework problems, students use proximity in the textbook as a
cue to determine which examples to use in analogy. For instance, a student work-
ing on physics problems at the end of a chapter expects that problems solved as
examples in the chapter will use the same methods and so tries to solve the prob-
lems by analogy to these examples (Chi, Bassok, Lewis, Riemann, & Glaser, 1989).
■ Analogy involves noticing that a past problem solution is relevant
and then mapping the elements from that solution to produce an op-
erator for the current problem.
Analogy and Imitation from an Evolutionary
and Brain Perspective
It has been argued that analogical reasoning is a hallmark of human cognition
(Halford, 1992). The capacity to solve analogical problems is almost uniquely
found in humans. There is some evidence for this ability in chimpanzees
(Oden, Thompson, & Premack, 2001), although lower primates such as mon-
keys seem totally incapable of such tasks. For instance, Premack (1976) re-
ported that Sarah, a chimpanzee used in studies of language (see Chapter 12),
was able to solve analogies such as the following:
Key is to a padlock as what is to a tin can?
The answer: can opener.
Anderson_8e_Ch08.indd 190 13/09/14 9:55 AM
o P e r ATo r S e L e C T I o N / 191
In more careful study of Sarah’s abilities, however, Oden et
al. found that although Sarah could solve such problems
more often than chance, she was much more prone to error
than human participants.
Brain-imaging studies have looked at the cortical re-
gions that are activated in analogical reasoning. Figure 8.6
shows examples of the stimuli used in a study by Christoff et
al. (2001), adapted from the Raven’s Progressive Matrices test,
which is a standard test of intelligence. Only problems like Fig-
ure 8.6c, which require that the solver coordinate two dimen-
sions, could be said to tap true analogical reasoning. There is
evidence that children under age 5 (in whom the frontal cor-
tex has not yet matured), nonhuman primates, and patients
with frontal damage all have special difficulty with problems
like the one in Figure 8.6c and often just cannot solve them.
Christoff et al. were interested in discovering which brain
regions would be activated when participants were solving
these problems. Consistent with the trends we noted in the
introduction to this chapter, they found that the right ante-
rior prefrontal cortex was activated only when participants
had to coordinate two dimensions. In a brain-imaging study,
Wendelken, O’Hare, Whitaker, Ferrer, and Bunge (2011)
found that, in children, unlike adults, activity in this region
does not vary appropriately with the difficulty of the task.
Examples like those shown in Figure 8.6 are cases in which analogi-
cal reasoning is used for purposes other than acquiring new problem-solving
operators. From the perspective of this chapter, however, the real importance
of analogy is that it can be used to acquire new problem-solving operators. We
noted earlier that people often learn more from studying an example than from
reading abstract instructions. Humans have a special ability to mimic the prob-
lem solutions of others. When we ask someone how to use a new device, that
person tends to show us how, not to tell us how. Despite the proverb “Monkey
see, monkey do,” even the higher apes are quite poor at imitation (Tomasello
& Call, 1997). Thus, it seems that one of the things that makes humans such
effective problem solvers is that we have special abilities to acquire new
problem-solving operators by analogical reasoning.
■ Analogical problem solving appears to be a capability nearly
unique to humans and to depend on the advanced development of the
prefrontal cortex.
◆ Operator Selection
As noted earlier, in any particular state, multiple problem-solving operators
can be applicable, and a critical task is to select the one to apply. In principle,
a problem solver may select operators in many ways, and the field of artifi-
cial intelligence has succeeded in enumerating various powerful techniques.
However, it seems that most methods are not particularly natural as human
problem-solving approaches. Here we will review three criteria that humans
use to select operators.
Backup avoidance biases the problem solver against any operator that un-
does the effect of the previous operators. For instance, in the eight puzzle, peo-
ple show great reluctance to take back a step even if this might be necessary to
solve the problem. However, backup avoidance by itself provides no basis for
choosing among the remaining operators.
(a)
1 2
3 4
1 2
3 4
1 2
3 4
(b)
(c)
FIGURE 8.6 examples of
stimuli used by Christoff et al.
to study which brain regions
would be activated when
participants attempted to solve
three different types of analogy
problem: (a) 0-dimensional;
(b) 1-dimensional; and
(c) 2-dimensional. The task
in each case was to infer the
missing figure and select it
from among the four alternative
choices. (Reprinted from Christoff,
K., Prabhakaran, V., Dorfman,
J., Zhao, Z., Kroger, J. K., et al.
(2001). Rostrolateral prefrontal
cortex involvement in relational
integration during reasoning.
Neuroimage, 14, 1136–1149.
Copyright © 2001, with permis-
sion from Elsevier.)
Anderson_8e_Ch08.indd 191 13/09/14 9:55 AM
192 / Chapter 8 P r o b L e m S o Lv I N G
Humans tend to select the nonrepeating operator that most reduces the
difference between the current state and the goal. Difference reduction is a
very general principle and describes the behavior of many creatures. For in-
stance, Köhler (1927) described how a chicken will move directly toward de-
sired food and will not go around a fence that is blocking it. The poor creature
is effectively paralyzed, being unable to move forward and unwilling to back up
because this would increase its distance from the food. It does not seem to have
any principles for selection of operators other than difference reduction and
backup avoidance. This leaves it without a solution to the problem.
On the other hand, the chimpanzee Sultan (see Figure 8.2) did not just
claw at his cage trying to get the bananas. He sought to create a new tool to
enable him to obtain the food. In effect, his new goal became the creation of a
new means for achieving the old goal. Means-ends analysis is the term used to
describe the creation of a new goal (end) to enable an operator (means) to ap-
ply. By using means-ends analysis, humans and other higher primates can be
more resourceful in achieving a goal than they could be if they used only differ-
ence reduction. In the next sections, we will discuss the roles of both difference
reduction and means-ends analysis in operator selection.
■ Humans use backup avoidance, difference reduction, and means-
ends analysis to guide their selection of operators.
The Difference-Reduction Method
A common method of problem solving, particularly in unfamiliar domains, is
to try to reduce the difference between the current state and the goal state. For
instance, consider my solution to the eight puzzle in Figure 8.3. There were
four options possible for the first move. One possible operator was to move
the 1 tile into the empty square, another was to move the 8, a third was to
move the 5, and the fourth was to move the 4. I chose the last operator. Why?
Because it seemed to get me closer to my end goal. I was moving the 4 tile
closer to its final destination. Human problem solvers are often strongly gov-
erned by difference reduction or, conversely, by similarity increase. That is,
they choose operators that transform the current state into a new state that
reduces differences and resembles the goal state more closely than the current
state. Difference reduction is sometimes called hill climbing. If we imagine
the goal as the highest point of land, one approach to reaching it is always to
take steps that go up. By reducing the difference between the goal and the cur-
rent state, the problem solver is taking a step “higher” toward the goal. Hill
climbing has a potential flaw, however: By following it, we might reach the top
of some hill that is lower than the highest point of land that is the goal. Thus,
difference reduction is not guaranteed to work. It is myopic in that it considers
only whether the next step is an improvement and not whether the larger plan
will work. Means-ends analysis, which we will discuss later, is an attempt to
introduce a more global perspective into problem solving.
One way problem solvers improve operator selection is by using more so-
phisticated measures of similarity. My first move was intended simply to get
a tile closer to its final destination. After working with many tile problems,
we begin to notice the importance of sequence—that is, whether noncentral
tiles are followed by their appropriate successors. For instance, in state (o) of
Figure 8.3, the 3 and 4 tiles are in sequence because they are followed by their
successors 4 and 5, but the 5 is not in sequence because it is followed by 7
rather than 6. Trying first to move tiles into sequence proves to be more im-
portant than trying to move them to their final destinations right away. Thus,
using sequence as a measure of increasing similarity leads to more effective
Anderson_8e_Ch08.indd 192 13/09/14 9:55 AM
o P e r ATo r S e L e C T I o N / 193
problem solving based on difference reduction (see N. J. Nilsson, 1971, for
further discussion).
The difference-reduction technique relies on evaluation of the similar-
ity between the current state and the goal state. Although difference reduction
works more often than not, it can also lead the problem solver astray. In some
problem-solving situations, a correct solution involves going against the grain
of similarity. A good example is called the hobbits and orcs problem:
On one side of a river are three hobbits and three orcs. They have a
boat on their side that is capable of carrying two creatures at a time
across the river. The goal is to transport all six creatures across to the
other side of the river. At no point on either side of the river can orcs
outnumber hobbits (or the orcs would eat the outnumbered hobbits).
The problem, then, is to find a method of transporting all six creatures
across the river without the hobbits ever being outnumbered.
Stop reading and try to solve this problem. Figure 8.7 shows a correct sequence
of moves. Illustrated are the locations of hobbits (H), orcs (O), and the boat (b).
The boat, the three hobbits, and the three orcs all start on one side of the
river. This condition is represented in state 1 by the fact that all are above the
line. Then a hobbit, an orc, and the boat proceed to the other side of the river.
The outcome of this action is represented in state 2 by placement of the boat,
the hobbit, and the orc below the line. In state 3, one hobbit has taken the boat
back, and the diagram continues in the same way. Each state in the figure rep-
resents another configuration of hobbits, orcs, and boat. Participants have
a particular problem with the transition from state 6 to state 7. In a study by
Jeffries, Polson, Razran, and Atwood (1977), about a third of all participants
chose to back up to a previous state 5 rather than moving on to state 7 (see also
Greeno, 1974). One reason for this difficulty is that the action involves moving
two creatures back to the wrong side of the river. This appears to be a move
away from the desired solution. At this point, participants will go back to state
5, even though this undoes their last move. They would rather undo a move
than take a step that moves them to a state that appears further from the goal.
Atwood and Polson (1976) provide another experimental demonstration
of participants’ reliance on similarity and how that reliance can sometimes be
harmful and sometimes beneficial. Participants were given the following water
jug problem:
You have three jugs, which we will call A, B, and C. Jug A can hold
exactly 8 cups of water, B can hold exactly 5 cups, and C can hold ex-
actly 3 cups. Jug A is filled to capacity with 8 cups of water. B and C are
empty. We want you to find a way of dividing the contents of A equally
between A and B so that both have exactly 4 cups. You are allowed to
pour water from jug to jug.
Figure 8.8 shows two paths for solving this problem. At the top of the illustra-
tion, all the water is in jug A—represented by A(8); there is no water in jugs B
or C—represented by B(0) C(0). The two possible actions are either to pour A
into C, in which case we get A(5) B(0) C(3), or to pour A into B, in which case
we get A(3) B(5) C(0). From these two states, more moves can be made. Nu-
merous other sequences of moves are possible besides the two paths illustrated,
but these are the two shortest sequences to the goal.
Atwood and Polson used the representation in Figure 8.8 to analyze partici-
pants’ behavior. For instance, they asked which move participants would prefer to
make at the start state 1. That is, would they prefer to pour jug A into C and get
state 2, or jug A into B and get state 9? The answer is that participants preferred
the latter move. More than twice as many participants moved to state 9 as moved
HHH O O Ob
b
b
H
H
H O
O
O
HHH O
O
O
b
HHH
O O O
b HHH
O O
O
b
H
HH O
O
O
b H
H
H
O
O O
b HH
O O
O
b
HH
H
H
O O O
b H H H
O
O O
b
HH H
OO
O
b H H HOOO
(1)
(2)
(3)
(4)
(5)
(6)
(7)
(8)
(9)
(10)
(11)
(12)
FIGURE 8.7 A diagram of the
successive states in a solution to
the hobbits and orcs problem.
H = hobbits, o = orcs, b = boat.
Anderson_8e_Ch08.indd 193 13/09/14 9:55 AM
194 / Chapter 8 P r o b L e m S o Lv I N G
to state 2. Note that state 9 is quite similar to the
goal. The goal is to have 4 cups in both A and B,
and state 9 has 3 cups in A and 5 cups in B. In con-
trast, state 2 has no cups of water in B. Through-
out the experiment, Atwood and Polson found a
strong tendency for participants to move to states
that were similar to the goal state. Usually, similar-
ity is a good heuristic, but there are critical cases
where similarity is misleading. For instance, the
transitions from state 5 to state 6 and from state
11 to state 12 both lead to significant decreases in
similarity to the goal. However, both transitions are
critical to their solution paths. Atwood and Polson
found that more than 50% of the time, participants
deviated from the correct sequence of moves at
these critical points. They instead chose some move
that seemed closer to the goal but actually took
them away from the solution.1
It is worth noting that people do not get stuck
in suboptimal states only while solving puzzles.
Hill climbing can also produce suboptimal re-
sults when making serious life choices. A classic
example is someone trapped in a suboptimal job
because he or she is unwilling to get the education
needed for a better job. The person is unwilling
to endure the temporary deviation from the goal
(of earning as much as possible) to get the skills to
earn a higher salary.
■ People experience difficulty in solving a problem at points where
the correct solution involves increasing the differences between the
current state and the goal state.
Means-Ends Analysis
Means-ends analysis is a more sophisticated method of operator selection. This
method was extensively studied by Newell and Simon, who used it in a com-
puter simulation program (called the General Problem Solver—GPS) that
models human problem solving. The following is their description of means-
ends analysis.
Means-ends analysis is typified by the following kind of commonsense
argument:
I want to take my son to nursery school. What’s the difference between
what I have and what I want? One of distance. What changes distance?
My automobile. My automobile won’t work. What is needed to make
it work? A new battery. What has new batteries? An auto repair shop.
I want the repair shop to put in a new battery; but the shop doesn’t
know I need one. What is the difficulty? One of communication. What
allows communication? A telephone . . . and so on.
This kind of analysis—classifying things in terms of the functions they
serve and oscillating among ends, functions required, and means that
perform them—forms the basic system of GPS. (Newell & Simon,
1972, p. 416)
A(5)
A(5)
A(2)
A(2)
A(7)
A(7)
A (4)
(4)A(4)
(5)B
(2)B
(2)B
(0)B
B(0) (0)C
(0)C
(2)C
(2)C
(3)C
(0)C
C (3) A(3)
A(6)
A(6)
B (5)
B (4)
A(1)
A(1)
A(3) C (3)B(3)
(5)B
(0)B
B
B(3) C (3)
C(1)
(0)C
(3)C
(0)C
C(1)
B (1)
B(1)
A(8)(1)
(2)
(3)
(4)
(5)
(6)
(7)
(8)
(15)
(13)
(14)
(12)
(11)
(10)
(9)
B(0) C(0)
A C
C B
A C
C B
B A
C B
A C
C B
C A
B C
A B
B C
C A
B C
A B
1 For instance, moving back to state 9 from either state 5 or state 11.
FIGURE 8.8 Two paths of
solution for the water jug
problem posed in Atwood and
Polson (1976). each state is rep-
resented in terms of the contents
of the three jugs; for example, in
state 1, A(8) B(0) C(0). The
transitions between states
(e.g., A C) are labeled in terms
of which jug is poured into which
other jug.
Anderson_8e_Ch08.indd 194 13/09/14 9:55 AM
o P e r ATo r S e L e C T I o N / 195
Means-ends analysis can be viewed as a more sophisticated version of differ-
ence reduction. Like difference reduction, it tries to eliminate the differences
between the current state and the goal state. For instance, in this example, it
tried to reduce the distance between the son and the nursery school. Means-
ends analysis will also identify the biggest difference first and try to eliminate it.
Thus, in this example, the focus is on difference in the general location of son
and nursery school. The difference between where the car will be parked at the
nursery school and the classroom has not yet been considered.
Means-ends analysis offers a major advance over difference reduction be-
cause it will not abandon an operator if it cannot be applied immediately. If
the car did not work, for example, difference reduction would have one start
walking to the nursery school. The essential feature of means-ends analysis
is that it focuses on enabling blocked operators. The means temporarily be-
comes the end. In effect, the problem solver deliberately ignores the real goal
and focuses on the goal of enabling the means. In the example we have been
discussing, the problem solver set a subgoal of repairing the automobile, which
was the means of achieving the original goal of getting the child to nursery
school. New operators can be selected to achieve this subgoal. For instance, in-
stalling a new battery was chosen. If this operator is blocked, yet another sub-
goal could be set.
Figure 8.9 shows two flowcharts of the procedures used in the means-ends
analysis employed by GPS. A general feature of this analysis is that it breaks a
larger goal into subgoals. GPS creates subgoals in two ways. First, in flowchart 1,
GPS breaks the current state into a set of differences and sets the reduction of
each difference as a separate subgoal. First it tries to eliminate what it perceives as
the most important difference. Second, in flowchart 2, GPS tries to find an opera-
tor that will eliminate the difference. However, GPS may not be able to apply this
operator immediately because a difference exists between the operator’s condition
Match current state
to goal state to find the
most important difference
Flowchart 1 Goal: Transform current state into goal state
Flowchart 2 Goal: Eliminate the difference
Difference
NO DIFFERENCES
NO DIFFERENCE
NONE FOUND
FAIL
FAIL
FAIL APPLY OPERATOR
FAIL
SUCCESS
SUCCESS
Operator
found
SUCCESS
detected
Difference
detected
Search for operator
relevant to reducing
the difference
Match condition of
operator to current
state to find most
important difference
Subgoal: Eliminate
the difference
Subgoal:
Eliminate
the difference
FIGURE 8.9 The application of means-ends analysis by Newell and Simon’s General
Problem Solving (GPS) program. Flowchart 1 breaks a problem down into a set of
differences and tries to eliminate each one. Flowchart 2 searches for an operator that is
relevant to eliminating a difference.
Anderson_8e_Ch08.indd 195 13/09/14 9:55 AM
196 / Chapter 8 P r o b L e m S o Lv I N G
and the state of the environment. Thus, before the operator can be applied, it may
be necessary to eliminate another difference. To eliminate the difference that is
blocking the operator’s application, flowchart 2 will have to be called again to find
another operator relevant to eliminating that difference. The term operator sub-
goal is used to refer to a subgoal whose purpose is to eliminate a difference that is
blocking application of an operator.
■ Means-ends analysis involves creating subgoals to eliminate the dif-
ference blocking the application of a desired operator.
The Tower of Hanoi Problem
Means-ends analysis has proved to be a generally applicable and extremely
powerful method of problem solving. Ernst and Newell (1969) discussed its
application to the modeling of monkey and bananas problems (such as Sultan’s
predicament described at the beginning of the chapter), algebra problems,
calculus problems, and logic problems. Here, however, we will illustrate means-
ends analysis by applying it to the Tower of Hanoi problem. Figure 8.10 illus-
trates a simple version of this problem. There are three pegs and three disks of
differing sizes, A, B, and C. The disks have holes in them so they can be stacked
on the pegs. The disks can be moved from any peg to any other peg. Only the
top disk on a peg can be moved, and it can never be placed on a smaller disk.
The disks all start out on peg 1, but the goal is to move them all to peg 3, one
disk at a time, by transferring disks among pegs.
Figure 8.11 traces the application of the GPS techniques to this problem. The
first line gives the general goal of moving disks A, B, and C to peg 3. This goal leads
us to the first flowchart of Figure 8.9. One difference between the goal and the cur-
rent state is that disk C is not on peg 3. This difference is chosen because GPS tries
to remove the most important difference first, and we are assuming that the largest
misplaced disk will be viewed as the most important difference. A subgoal set up
to eliminate this difference takes us to the second flowchart of Figure 8.9, which
tries to find an operator to reduce the difference. The operator chosen is to move
C to peg 3. The condition for applying a move operator is that nothing be on the
disk. Because A and B are on C, there is a difference between the condition of the
operator and the current state. Therefore, a new subgoal is created to reduce one of
the differences—B on C. This subgoal gets us back to the start of flowchart 2, but
now with the goal of removing B from C (line 6 in Figure 8.11).2
1 2 3 1 2 3
A
B
C
A
Start Goal
B
C
FIGURE 8.10 The three-disk version of the Tower of Hanoi problem.
2 Note that we have gone from the use of flowchart 1 to the use of flowchart 2, to a new use of flowchart 2.
To apply flowchart 2 to find a way to move disk C to peg 3, we need to apply flowchart 2 to find a way to
remove disk B from disk C. Thus, one procedure is using itself as a subprocedure; such an action is called
recursion.
Anderson_8e_Ch08.indd 196 13/09/14 9:55 AM
o P e r ATo r S e L e C T I o N / 197
The operator chosen the second time in
flowchart 2 is to move disk B to peg 2. How-
ever, we cannot immediately apply the opera-
tor of moving B to 2, because B is covered by A.
Therefore, another subgoal—removing A—is set
up, and flowchart 2 is used to remove this dif-
ference. The operator relevant to achieving this
subgoal is to move disk A to peg 3. There are no
differences between the conditions for this op-
erator and the current state. Finally, we have an
operator we can apply (line 12 in Figure 8.11),
and we achieve the subgoal of moving A to 3.
Now we return to the earlier intention of moving
B to 2. There are no more differences between
the condition for this operator and the current
state, and so the action takes place. The subgoal
of removing B from C is then satisfied (line 16 in
Figure 8.11).
We have now returned to the original inten-
tion of moving disk C to peg 3. However, disk
A is now on peg 3, which prevents the action.
Thus, we have another difference to be elimi-
nated between the now-current state and the
operator’s condition. We move A onto peg 2 to
remove this difference. Now the original opera-
tor of moving C to 3 can be applied (line 24 in
Figure 8.11).
The state now is that disk C is on peg 3 and
disks A and B are on peg 2. At this point, GPS
returns to its original goal of moving the three
disks to peg 3. It notes another difference—that
B is not on 3—and sets another subgoal of elimi-
nating this difference. It achieves this subgoal
by first moving A to 1 and then B to 3. This gets
us to line 37 in Figure 8.11. The remaining dif-
ference is that A is not on 3. This difference is
eliminated in lines 38 through 42. With this
step, no more differences exist and the original
goal is achieved.
Note that subgoals are created in service
of other subgoals. For instance, to achieve the subgoal of moving the larg-
est disk, GPS creates a subgoal of moving the second-largest disk, which is
on top of it. We indicated this logical dependency of one subgoal on another
in Figure 8.11 by indenting the processing of the dependent subgoal. Before
the first move in line 12 of the illustration, three subgoals had to be created.
It appears that creating such goals and subgoals can be quite costly. Both J. R.
Anderson, Kushmerick, and Lebiere (1993) and Ruiz (1987) found that the
time required to make one of the moves is a function of the number of sub-
goals that must be created. For instance, before disk A is moved to peg 3 in
Figure 8.11 (the first move), three subgoals have to be created, whereas no
subgoals have to be created before the next move is taken—moving B to
peg 2. Correspondingly, Anderson et al. found that it took 8.95 s to make the
first move and 2.46 s to make the second move.
There are two problem-solving methods that participants could bring
to bear in solving the Tower of Hanoi problem. They could use a means-ends
Goal: Move A, B, and C to peg 3
: Difference is that C is not on 3
: Subgoal: Make C on 3
: Operator is to move C to 3
: Difference is that A and B are on C
: Subgoal: Remove B from C
: Operator is to move B to 2
: Difference is that A is on B
: Subgoal: Remove A from B
: Operator is to move A to 3
: No difference with operator’s condition
: No difference with operator’s condition
: No difference with operator’s condition
: No difference with operator’s condition
: No difference with operator’s condition
: Difference is that A is on 3
: Subgoal: Remove A from 3
: Operator is to move A to 2
: Apply operator (move A to 3)
: Apply operator (move A to 2)
: Apply operator (move C to 3)
: Apply operator (move B to 2)
: Apply operator (move B to 3)
: Subgoal achieved
: Subgoal achieved
: Subgoal achieved
: Subgoal achieved
: Subgoal achieved
: Subgoal achieved
: Subgoal achieved
: No difference
Goal achieved
: Difference is that A is not on 3
: Subgoal: Make A on 3
: Operator is to move A to 3
: No difference with operator’s condition
: Apply operator (move A to 3 )
: Difference is that B is not on 3
: Subgoal: Make B on 3
: Operator is to move B to 3
: Difference is that A is on B
: Subgoal: Remove A from B
: Operator is to move A to 1
: No difference with operator’s condition
: Apply operator (move A to 1)
1.
2.
3.
4.
5.
6.
7.
8.
9.
10.
11.
12.
13.
14.
15.
16.
17.
18.
19.
20.
21.
22.
23.
24.
25.
26.
27.
28.
29.
30.
31.
32.
33.
34.
35.
36.
37.
38.
39.
40.
41.
42.
43.
44.
45.
FIGURE 8.11 A trace of the ap-
plication of the GPS program,
as shown in Figure 8.9, to the
Tower of Hanoi problem shown
in Figure 8.10.
Anderson_8e_Ch08.indd 197 13/09/14 9:55 AM
198 / Chapter 8 P r o b L e m S o Lv I N G
approach as illustrated in Figure 8.11, or they could use the simpler difference-
reduction method—in which case they would never set a subgoal to move a disk
that currently cannot be moved. In the Tower of Hanoi problem, such a sim-
ple difference-reduction method would not be effective, because one needs to
look beyond what is currently possible and have a more global plan of attack on
the problem. The only step that difference reduction could take in Figure 8.10
would be to move the top disk (A) to the target peg (3), but then it would pro-
vide no further guidance because no other move would reduce the difference
between the current state and the goal state. Participants would have to make
a random move. Kotovsky, Hayes, and Simon (1985) studied the way people
actually approach the Tower of Hanoi problem. They found that there was an
initial problem-solving period during which participants did adopt this fruit-
less difference-reduction strategy. Then they switched to a means-ends strategy,
after which the solution to the problem came quickly.
■ The Tower of Hanoi problem is solved by adopting a means-ends
strategy in which subgoals are created.
Goal Structures and the Prefrontal Cortex
It is significant that complex goal structures, particularly those involving op-
erator subgoaling, have been observed with any frequency only in humans and
higher primates. We have already discussed one instance of Sultan’s solution
to the two-stick problem (see Figure 8.2). Novel tool building, a clear instance
of operator subgoaling, is almost unique to the higher apes (Beck, 1980). The
process of handling complex subgoals is performed by the prefrontal cortex—
which, as Figure 8.1 illustrates, is much larger in the higher primates than in
most other mammals, and is larger in humans than in most apes. Chapter 6
discussed the role of the prefrontal cortex in holding information in working
memory. One of the major prerequisites to developing complex goal structures
is the ability to maintain these goal structures in working memory.
Goel and Grafman (1995) looked at how patients with severe prefrontal
damage performed in solving the Tower of Hanoi problem. Many were veterans
of the Vietnam War who had lost large amounts of brain tissue as a result of
penetrating missile wounds (bullets, shrapnel, etc.). Although they had normal
IQs, they showed much worse performance than normal participants on the
Tower of Hanoi task. There were certain moves that these patients found par-
ticularly difficult to solve. As we noted in discussing how means-ends analysis
applies to the Tower of Hanoi problem, it is necessary to make moves that devi-
ate from the prescriptions of hill climbing. One might have a disk at the correct
position but have to move it away to enable another disk to be moved to that
position. It was exactly at these points where the patients had to move “back-
ward” that they had their problems. Only by maintaining a set of goals can one
see that a backward move is necessary for a solution.
More generally, it has been noted that patients with prefrontal damage have
difficulty inhibiting a predominant response (e.g., Roberts, Hager, & Heron,
1994). For instance, in the Stroop task (see Chapter 3), these patients have trou-
ble not saying the word itself when they are supposed to say the color of the
word. Apparently, they find it hard to keep in mind that their goal is to say the
color and not the word.
There is increased activation in the prefrontal cortex during many tasks
that involve organizing novel and complex behavior (Gazzaniga, Ivry, &
Mangun, 1998). Fincham, Carter, van Veen, Stenger, and Anderson (2002) did
an fMRI study of students while they were solving Tower of Hanoi problems
and looked at brain activation as a function of the number of goals that the
Anderson_8e_Ch08.indd 198 13/09/14 9:55 AM
P r o b L e m r e P r e S e N TAT I o N / 199
students had to set. These students were solving much more complicated prob-
lems than the simple one shown in Figure 8.10. For instance, the problem of
moving a five-disk tower requires maintaining as many as five goals to reach a
solution. Figure 8.12 shows the fMRI BOLD response of a region in the right,
anterior, dorsolateral prefrontal cortex during a sequence of eight problem-
solving steps in which the number of goals being held varied from one to four.
It also shows the number of goals being held at each point. There seems to be a
striking match between the goal load and the magnitude of the fMRI response.
■ The prefrontal cortex plays a critical role in maintaining goal
structures.
◆ Problem Representation
The Importance of the Correct Representation
We have analyzed a problem solution as consisting of problem states and
operators for changing states. So far, we have discussed problem solving as if
the only tasks involved were to acquire operators and select the appropri-
ate ones. However, there are also important effects of how one represents the
problem. A famous example illustrating the importance of representation is
the mutilated-checkerboard problem (Kaplan & Simon, 1990). Suppose we
have a checkerboard from which two diagonally opposite corner squares have
been cut out, leaving 62 squares, as illustrated in Figure 8.13. Now suppose that
we have 31 dominoes, each of which covers exactly two squares of the board.
Can you find some way of arranging these 31 dominoes on
the board so that they cover all 62 squares? If it can be done,
explain how. If it cannot be done, prove that it cannot. Per-
haps you would like to ponder this problem before reading
on. Relatively few people are able to solve it without some
hints, and very few see the answer quickly.
The answer is that the dominoes cannot cover the check-
erboard. The trick to seeing this is to include in your repre-
sentation of the problem the fact that each domino must cover
one black and one white square, not just any two squares.
There is just no way to place a domino on two squares of the
1
0.0
0.05
0.10
0.15
0.20
BOLD response
Number of goals
2 3
Step in problem
Nu
m
be
r o
f g
oa
ls
on
st
ac
k
In
cr
ea
se
in
B
O
LD
re
sp
on
se
(%
)
4 5 6 7 8
1
2
3
4
FIGURE 8.12 results from a
study by Fincham et al. to exam-
ine brain activation as a function
of steps while solving a Tower
of Hanoi problem. The blue line
shows the magnitude of fmrI
boLD response in a region in the
right, anterior, dorsolateral pre-
frontal cortex during a sequence
of eight problem-solving steps in
which the number of goals being
held varied from one to four. The
black shows the number of goals
being held at each point. (Data
from Fincham et al., 2002.)
FIGURE 8.13 The mutilated
checkerboard used in the prob-
lem posed by Kaplan and
Simon (1990) to illustrate the
importance of representation.
Anderson_8e_Ch08.indd 199 13/09/14 9:55 AM
200 / Chapter 8 P r o b L e m S o Lv I N G
checkerboard without having it cover one black and one white square. So with
31 dominoes, we can cover 31 black squares and 31 white squares. But the mu-
tilation has removed two white squares. Thus, there are 30 white squares and 32
black squares. It follows that the mutilated checkerboard cannot be covered by
31 dominoes.
Contrast this problem with the following “marriage” problem that occurs
with many variations in its statement:
In a village in Eastern Europe lived an old marriage broker. He was
worried. Tomorrow was St. Valentine’s Day, the village’s traditional
betrothal day, and his job was to arrange weddings for all the village’s
eligible young people. There were 32 women and 32 young men in the
village. This morning he learned that two of the young women had
run away to the big city to found a company to build phone apps. Was
he going to be able to get all the young folk paired off?
People almost immediately see that this problem cannot be solved since there
are no longer enough women to pair up with the men.3
Since both problems require the same insight of matching pairs (black with
white squares in the case of the checkerboard, and men with women in the case of
marriage), why is the mutilated-checkerboard problem so hard and the marriage
problem so easy? The answer is that we tend not to represent the checkerboard in
terms of matching black and white squares whereas we do tend to represent mar-
riages in terms of matching brides and grooms. If we use such a matching repre-
sentation, it allows the critical operator to apply (i.e., checking for parity).
Another problem that depends on correct representation is the 27-apples
problem. Imagine 27 apples packed together in a crate 3 apples high, 3 apples
wide, and 3 apples deep. A worm is in the center apple. Its life’s ambition is to
eat its way through all the apples in the crate, but it does not want to waste time
by visiting any apple twice. The worm can move from apple to apple only by go-
ing from the side of one into the side of another. This means it can move only
into the apples directly above, below, or beside it. It cannot move diagonally.
Can you find some path by which the worm, starting from the center apple,
can reach all the apples without going through any apple twice? If not, can you
prove it is impossible? The solution is left to you. (Hint: The solution is based
on a partial 3-D analogy to the solution for the mutilated-checkerboard prob-
lem; it is given in the appendix at the end of the chapter.)
Inappropriate problem representations often cause students to fail to solve
problems even though they have been taught the appropriate knowledge. This
fact often frustrates teachers. Bassok (1990) and Bassok and Holyoak (1989)
studied high-school students who had learned to solve such physics problems
as the following:
What is the acceleration (increase in speed each second) of a train, if
its speed increases uniformly from 15 m/s at the beginning of the
1st second, to 45 m/s at the end of the 12th second?
Students were taught such physics problems and became very effective at solv-
ing them. However, they had very little success in transferring that knowledge
to solving such algebra problems as this one:
Juanita went to work as a teller in a bank at a salary of $12,400 per year
and received constant yearly increases, coming up with a $16,000 sal-
ary during her 13th year of work. What was her yearly salary increase?
3 At least given a particular definition of marriage.
Anderson_8e_Ch08.indd 200 13/09/14 9:55 AM
P r o b L e m r e P r e S e N TAT I o N / 201
The students failed to see that their experience with the physics problems was
relevant to solving such algebra problems, which actually have the same struc-
ture. This happened because students did not appreciate that knowledge associ-
ated with continuous quantities such as speed (m/s) was relevant to problems
posed in terms of discrete quantities such as dollars.
■ Successful problem solving depends on representing problems in
such a way that appropriate operators can be seen to apply.
Functional Fixedness
Sometimes solutions to problems depend on the solver’s ability to represent
the objects in his or her environment in novel ways. This fact has been demon-
strated in a series of studies by different experimenters. A typical experiment
in the series is the two-string problem of Maier (1931), illustrated in Figure
8.14. Two strings hanging from the ceiling are to be tied together, but they are
so far apart that the participant cannot grasp both at once. Among the objects
in the room are a chair and a pair of pliers. Participants try various solutions
involving the chair, but these do not work. The only solution that works is to
tie the pliers to one string and set that string swinging like a pendulum; then
get the second string, bring it to the center of the room, and wait for the first
string with the pliers to swing close enough to catch. Only 39% of Maier’s par-
ticipants were able to see this solution within 10 minutes. The difficulty is that
FIGURE 8.14 The two-string problem used by maier to demonstrate functional fixedness.
only 39% of maier’s participants were able to see the solution within 10 minutes. A large
majority of the participants did not perceive the pliers as a weight that could be used as a
pendulum.
Anderson_8e_Ch08.indd 201 13/09/14 9:55 AM
202 / Chapter 8 P r o b L e m S o Lv I N G
the participants did not perceive the pliers as a
weight that could be used as a pendulum. This
phenomenon is called functional fixedness. It
is so named because people are fixed on repre-
senting an object according to its conventional
function and fail to represent it as having a
novel function.
Another demonstration of functional
fixedness is an experiment by Duncker (1945).
The task he posed to participants was to support
a candle on a door, ostensibly for an experiment
on vision. As illustrated in Figure 8.15, a box
of tacks, some matches, and the candle are on a
table in the room. The solution is to tack the box
to the door and use the box as a platform for the
candle. This task is difficult because participants
see the box as a container, not as a platform. They
have greater difficulty with the task if the box is filled with tacks, reinforcing the per-
ception of the box as a container.
These demonstrations of functional fixedness are consistent with the inter-
pretation that representation has an effect on operator selection. For instance,
to solve Duncker’s candle problem, participants needed to represent the tack
box in such a way that it could be used by the problem-solving operators that
were looking for a support for the candle. When the box was conceived of as a
container and not as a support, it was not available to the support-seeking op-
erators. There has been recent work on methods to get participants to see the
full range of features for specific objects. For instance, McCaffrey (2012) trained
participants to decompose objects into their primitive parts and features. If ap-
plied to the items in Figure 8.15, participants would describe the parts of the
tack box—their material and their shape. Such training improved solution rates
on functional-fixedness problems from 49% to 83%.
■ Functional fixedness refers to people’s tendency to see objects as
serving conventional problem-solving functions and thus failing to
see possible novel functions.
◆ Set Effects
People’s experiences can bias them to prefer certain operators when solving a
problem. Such biasing of the problem solution is referred to as a set effect. A
good illustration involves the water jug problems studied by Luchins (1942) and
Luchins and Luchins (1959). In these water jug problems—which are different
from the Atwood and Polson (1976) water jug problem shown in Figure 8.8—
participants were given a set of jugs of various capacities and an unlimited water
supply. The task was to measure out a specified quantity of water. Two examples
are given below:
Problem
Capacity of
Jug A
Capacity of
Jug B
Capacity of
Jug C
Desired
Quantity
1 5 cups 40 cups 18 cups 28 cups
2 21 cups 127 cups 3 cups 100 cups
FIGURE 8.15 The candle prob-
lem used by Duncker (1945) in
another study of functional fixed-
ness. (Adapted from Glucksberg,
S., & Weisberg, R. W. (1966).
Verbal behavior and problem
solving: Some effects of labeling
in a functional fixedness problem.
Journal of experimental Psychology,
71, 659–666. Copyright © 1966
American Psychological Associa-
tion. Reprinted by permission.)
Water Jug Problem
Anderson_8e_Ch08.indd 202 13/09/14 9:55 AM
S e T e F F e C T S / 203
Participants are told to imagine that they have a sink so that they can fill
jugs from the tap and pour water into the sink or from one jug into another.
The jugs start out empty. When filling a jug from the tap, participants must fill
the jug to capacity; when pouring the water from a jug, participants must empty
the jug completely. The goal in problem 1 is to get 28 cups, and participants can
use three jugs: jug A, with a capacity of 5 cups; jug B, with a capacity of 40 cups;
and jug C, with a capacity of 18 cups. To solve this problem, participants would
fill jug A and pour it into B, fill A again and pour it into B, and fill C and pour
it into B. The solution to this problem is denoted by 2A 1 C. The solution for
the second problem is to fill jug B with 127 cups; fill A from B so that 106 cups
are left in B; fill C from B so that 103 cups are left in B; empty C; and fill C again
from B so that the goal of 100 cups in jug B is achieved. The solution to this
problem can be denoted by B 2 A 2 2C. The first solution is called an addition
solution because it involves adding the contents of the jugs together; the second
is called a subtraction solution because it involves subtracting the contents of
one jug from another. Luchins first gave participants a series of problems that all
could be solved by addition, thus creating an “addition set.” These participants
then solved new addition problems faster, and subtraction problems slower,
than control participants who had no practice.
The set effect that Luchins (1942) is most famous for demonstrating is
the Einstellung effect, or mechanization of thought, which is illustrated by the
series of problems shown in Table 8.3. Participants were given these problems
in this order and were required to find solutions for each. Take time out from
reading this text and try to solve each problem.
All problems except number 8 can be solved by using a B 2 2C 2 A
method (i.e., filling B, twice pouring B into C, and once pouring B into A). For
problems 1 through 5, this solution is the simplest; but for problems 7 and 9,
the simpler solution of A 1 C also applies. Problem 8 cannot be solved by the
B 2 2C 2 A method but can be solved by the simpler solution of A 2 C. Prob-
lems 6 and 10 are also solved more simply by A 2 C than by B 2 2C 2 A. Of
Luchins’s participants who received the whole setup of 10 problems, 83% used
the B 2 2C 2 A method on problems 6 and 7, 64% failed to solve problem 8, and
79% used the B 2 2C 2 A method for problems 9 and 10. The performance of
participants who worked on all 10 problems was compared with that of control
Capacity (cups)
Problem Jug A Jug B Jug C Desired Quantity
1 21 127 3 100
2 14 163 25 99
3 18 43 10 5
4 9 42 6 21
5 20 59 4 31
6 23 49 3 20
7 15 39 3 18
8 28 76 3 25
9 18 48 4 22
10 14 36 8 6
Adapted from Luchins, A. S. (1942). mechanization in problem solving. Psychological
Monographs, 54(No. 248). Copyright © 1942 American Psychological Association.
reprinted by permission.
TABLE 8.3 Luchins’s Water Jug Problems used to Illustrate the Set effect
Anderson_8e_Ch08.indd 203 13/09/14 9:55 AM
204 / Chapter 8 P r o b L e m S o Lv I N G
participants who saw only the last 5 problems. These control participants did not
see the biasing B 2 2C 2 A problems. Fewer than 1% of the control participants
used B 2 2C 2 A solutions, and only 5% failed to solve problem 8. Thus, the first
5 problems created a powerful bias for a particular solution that hurt the solu-
tion of problems 6 through 10. Although these effects are quite dramatic, they
are relatively easy to reverse with the exercise of cognitive control. Luchins found
that simply warning participants by saying, “Don’t be blind” after problem 5 al-
lowed more than 50% of them to overcome the set for the B 2 2C 2 A solution.
Another kind of set effect in problem solving has to do with the influence
of general semantic factors. This effect is well illustrated in the experiment of
Safren (1962) on anagram solutions. Safren presented participants with lists
such as the following, in which each set of letters was to be unscrambled and
made into a word:
kmli graus teews recma foefce ikrdn
This is an example of an organized list, in which the individual words are all
associated with drinking coffee. Safren compared solution times for organized
lists with times for unorganized lists. Median solution time was 12.2 s for ana-
grams from unorganized lists and 7.4 s for anagrams from organized lists. Pre-
sumably, the facilitation evident with the organized lists occurred because the
earlier items in the list associatively primed, and so made more available, the
later words. This anagram experiment contrasts with the water jug experiment
in that no particular procedure was being strengthened. Rather, what was being
strengthened was part of the participant’s factual (declarative) knowledge about
spellings of associatively related words.
In general, set effects occur when some knowledge structures become more
available than others. These structures can be either procedures, as in the wa-
ter jug problem, or declarative information, as in the anagram problem. If the
available knowledge is what participants need to solve the problem, their prob-
lem solving will be facilitated. If the available knowledge is not what is needed,
problem solving will be inhibited. It is good to realize that sometimes set effects
can be dissipated easily (as with Luchins’s “Don’t be blind” instruction). If you
find yourself stuck on a problem and you keep generating similar unsuccessful
approaches, it is often useful to force yourself to back off, change set, and try a
different kind of solution.
■ Set effects result when the knowledge relevant to a particular type
of problem solution is strengthened.
Incubation Effects
People often report that after trying to solve a problem and getting nowhere,
they can put it aside for hours, days, or weeks and then, upon returning to it,
can see the solution quickly. The famous French mathematician Henri Poincaré
(1929) reported many examples of this pattern, including the following:
Then I turned my attention to the study of some arithmetical ques-
tions apparently without much success and without a suspicion of any
connection with my preceding researches. Disgusted with my failure, I
went to spend a few days at the seaside, and thought of something else.
One morning, walking on the bluff, the idea came to me, with just the
same characteristics of brevity, suddenness, and immediate certainty,
that the arithmetic transformations of indeterminate ternary quadratic
forms were identical with those of non-Euclidean geometry. (p. 388)
Such phenomena are called incubation effects.
Anderson_8e_Ch08.indd 204 13/09/14 9:55 AM
S e T e F F e C T S / 205
An incubation effect was nicely demonstrated in an
experiment by Silveira (1971). The problem she posed to
participants, called the cheap-necklace problem, is illus-
trated in Figure 8.16. Participants were given the following
instructions:
You are given four separate pieces of chain that are each
three links in length. It costs 2¢ to open a link and 3¢ to
close a link. All links are closed at the beginning of the
problem. Your goal is to join all 12 links of chain into a
single circle at a cost of no more than 15¢.
Try to solve this problem yourself. (A solution is provided in the appendix at the
end of this chapter.) Silveira tested three groups. A control group worked on the
problem for half an hour; 55% of these participants solved the problem. For one
experimental group, the half hour spent on the problem was interrupted by a
half-hour break in which the participants did other activities; 64% of these par-
ticipants solved the problem. A second experimental group had a 4-hour break,
and 85% of these participants solved the problem. Silveira required her partici-
pants to speak aloud as they solved the cheap-necklace problem. She found that
they did not come back to the problem after a break with solutions completely
worked out. Rather, they began by trying to solve the problem much as before.
This result is evidence against a common misconception that people are sub-
consciously solving the problem during the period that they are away from it.
The best explanation for incubation effects relates them to set effects.
During initial attempts to solve a problem, people set themselves to think
about the problem in certain ways and bring to bear certain knowledge struc-
tures. If this initial set is appropriate, they will solve the problem. If the initial
set is not appropriate, however, they will be stuck throughout the session with
inappropriate procedures. Going away from the problem allows activation of
the inappropriate knowledge structures to dissipate, and people are able to take
a fresh approach.
The basic argument is that incubation effects occur because people “forget”
inappropriate ways of solving problems.
S. M. Smith and Blakenship (1989, 1991)
performed a fairly direct test of this hy-
pothesis. They had participants solve
problems like those shown in Figure
8.17. They provided half of their par-
ticipants, the fixation group, with inap-
propriate ways to think about the prob-
lems. For instance, for the third problem
in Figure 8.17, they told participants
to think about chemicals. Thus, in the
fixation condition, they deliberately in-
duced incorrect sets. Not surprisingly,
the fixation participants solved fewer
of the problems than the control par-
ticipants. The interesting issue, however,
was how much incubation effect these
two populations of participants showed.
Half of both the fixation and control
participants worked on the problems
for a continuous period of time, whereas
the other half had an incubation period
inserted in the middle of their problem-
solving efforts. The fixation participants
Final goal
Original strands
chain 1 chain 2
chain 3 chain 4
FIGURE 8.16 The cheap-
necklace problem used by
Silveira (1971) to investigate
the incubation effect.
lines linesreading
oholene
or
or
search
and
FIGURE 8.17 Puzzles used by
Smith and blakenship to test the
hypothesis that incubation effects
occur because people “forget”
inappropriate ways of solving
problems. Participants had to
figure out what familiar phrase
was represented by each image.
For example, the first picture
represents the phrase “reading
between the lines”; the second,
“search high and low”; the third,
“a hole in one”; and the fourth,
“double or nothing.”
Anderson_8e_Ch08.indd 205 13/09/14 9:55 AM
206 / Chapter 8 P r o b L e m S o Lv I N G
showed a greater benefit of the incubation period. When they asked the fixation
participants what the misleading clue had been, they found that more of the par-
ticipants who had an incubation period had forgotten the inappropriate clue.
Thus, the incubation effect for the fixation participants occurred because they
had forgotten the inappropriate way of solving the problem.
■ Incubation effects occur when people forget the inappropriate strat-
egies they were using to solve a problem.
Insight
A common misconception about learning and problem solving is that there are
magical moments of insight when everything falls into place and we suddenly
see a solution. This is called the “aha” experience, and many of us can report
uttering that very exclamation after a long struggle with a problem that we sud-
denly solve. The incubation effects just discussed have been used to argue that
the subconscious is deriving this insight during the incubation period. As we
saw, however, what really happens is that participants simply let go of poor ways
of solving problems.
Metcalfe and Wiebe (1987) came up with an interesting way to define insight
problems, by suggesting that an insight problem is one in which people are not
aware that they are close to a solution. They proposed that problems like the
cheap-necklace problem (see Figure 8.16) are insight problems, whereas problems
requiring multistep solutions, like the Tower of Hanoi problem (see Figure 8.10),
are noninsight problems. To test this, they asked participants to judge every 15 s
how close they felt they were to the solution. Fifteen seconds before they actually
solved a noninsight problem, participants were fairly confident they were close
to a solution. In contrast, with insight problems, participants had little idea they
were close to a solution, even 15 s before they actually solved the problem.
Kaplan and Simon (1990) studied participants while they solved the
mutilated-checkerboard problem (see Figure 8.13), which is another insight
problem. They found that some participants noticed key features of the solu-
tion to the problem—such as that a domino covers one square of each color—
early on. Sometimes, though, these participants did not judge those features to
be critical and went off and tried other methods of solution; only later did they
come back to the key feature. So, it is not that solutions to insight problems can-
not come in pieces, but rather that participants do not recognize which pieces
are key until they see the final solution. It reminds me of the time I tried to
find my way through a maze, cut off from all cues as to where the exit was. I
searched for a very long time, was quite frustrated, and was wondering if I was
ever going to get out—and then I made a turn and there was the exit. I believe I
even exclaimed, “Aha!” It was not that I solved the maze in a single turn; it was
that I did not appreciate which turns were on the way to the solution until I
made that final turn.
Sometimes, insight problems require only a single step (or turn) to solve,
and it is just a matter of finding that step. What is so difficult about these prob-
lems is just finding that one step, which can be a bit like trying to find a needle
in a haystack. As an example of such a problem, consider the following:
What is greater than God
More evil than the Devil
The poor have it
The rich want it
And if you eat it, you’ll die.
Anderson_8e_Ch08.indd 206 13/09/14 9:55 AM
C o N C L u S I o N S / 207
Reportedly, schoolchildren find this problem eas-
ier than college undergraduates. If so, it is because
they consider fewer possibilities as an answer. (If
you are frustrated and cannot solve this problem,
you can find the answer by searching the Web—
many people have posted this problem on their
Web pages.)
As a final example of insight problems con-
sider the remote association problems introduced
by Mednick (1962). In one version of these prob-
lems (Mednick, 1962), participants are asked to
find some word that can be combined with three
words to make a compound word. So, for in-
stance, given fox, man, and peep, the solution is
hole (foxhole, manhole, peephole). Here are some
examples of these word problems to try (the solu-
tions are given in the appendix):
print/berry/bird
dress/dial/flower
pine/crab/sauce
Studies of brain activity (Jung-Beeman et al., 2004) have been conducted while
people try to solve these problems. Characteristic of insight problems, peo-
ple often get a sudden feeling of insight when they solve them. Figure 8.18
shows the imaging results from our laboratory, which shows activity in the left
prefrontal region that has been associated with retrieval from declarative mem-
ory (e.g., Figures 1.16c, 7.6). The figure compares activity in cases where par-
ticipants are able to solve the problem with cases where they are not. Time 0
in the figure marks the point where the solution was obtained in the successful
case. Both functions for the successful and unsuccessful cases are increasing, re-
flecting increasing effort as the search progresses, but there is an abrupt drop
(time-lagged as we would expect with the BOLD response) after the insight. It
should be emphasized that other regions, such as the motor region, show a rise
at this point associated with the generation of the response. In dropping off, the
prefrontal cortex is showing a strikingly different response compared to other
brain regions and is reflecting the end to the search of memory for the answer.
The participant had been retrieving different possible answers, one after an-
other, and finally got the right answer. The feeling of insight corresponds to the
moment when retrieval finally succeeds and activity drops in the retrieval area.
■ Insight problems are ones in which solvers cannot recognize when
they are getting close to the solution.
◆ Conclusions
This chapter has been built around the Newell and Simon model of problem
solving as a search through a state space defined by operators. We have looked at
problem-solving success as determined by the operators available and the meth-
ods used to guide the search for operators. This analysis is particularly appropri-
ate for first-time problems, whether a chimpanzee’s quandary (see Figure 8.2) or
a human’s predicament when shown a Tower of Hanoi problem for the first time
(see Figure 8.10). The next chapter will focus on the other factors that come into
play with repeated problem-solving practice.
−10
−0.1
0.3
0.2
0.0
0.1
0.4
0.5
0.7
0.6
0.8
Unsuccessful
Successful
−5 0
Time (sec.) from response
%
in
cr
ea
se
in
B
O
LD
re
sp
on
se
5 10
FIGURE 8.18 A comparison of
brain activity for successful and
unsuccessful attempts to solve a
remote association problem. The
activity plotted is from a prefrontal
region that is sensitive to retrieval.
Activity increases with increasing
time on task but drops off for
successful problems shortly after
the solution (at time 0).
Anderson_8e_Ch08.indd 207 13/09/14 9:55 AM
208 / Chapter 8 P r o b L e m S o Lv I N G
Questions for Thought
1. Research (e.g., Pizlo et al., 2006) has been con-
ducted on the so-called “traveling salesman
problem.” To construct such a problem, put a
number of dots (say, 10 to 20) randomly on a page
and pick one as your start dot. Now try to draw
the shortest path from this dot, visiting each dot
just once and arriving back at your start dot. If
you were to characterize this problem as a search
space, what would the states of the problem be
and what would the operators be? How do you
select among the operators? Is this particularly
useful to characterize this problem in terms of
such a search space?
2. In the modern world, humans frequently want
to learn how to use devices like microwaves or
software such as a spreadsheet package. When do
you try to learn these things by discovery, by fol-
lowing an example, and by following instructions?
How often are your learning experiences a mix-
ture of these modes of learning?
3. A common goal for students is getting a good
grade in a course. There are many different things
that you can do to try to improve your grade. How
do you select among them? When do your efforts
to obtain good grades constitute hill climbing and
when do they constitute means-ends analysis?
4. Figure 8.19 illustrates the nine-dots problem
(Maier, 1931). The problem is to connect all
nine dots by drawing four straight lines, never
lifting your pen from the page. Summarizing a
variety of studies, Kershaw and Ohlsson (2001)
report that given only a few minutes, only 5% of
undergraduates can solve this problem. Try to
solve this problem. If you get frustrated, you can
find an answer by Googling “nine-dots problem.”
After you have tried to solve the problem, use the
terminology (see below) of this chapter to de-
scribe the nature of the difficulties posed by this
problem and what people need to do to success-
fully solve this problem.
FIGURE 8.19 The nine-dots
problem.
Key Terms
analogy
backup avoidance
difference reductions
Einstellung effect
functional fixedness
General Problem Solver
(GPS)
goal state
hill climbing
incubation effect
insight problem
means-ends analysis
operator
problem space
search
search tree
set effect
state
subgoal
Tower of Hanoi problem
◆ Appendix: Solutions
Figure A8.1 gives the minimum-path solution to the problem solved less
efficiently in Figure 8.3.
With regard to the problem of the 27 apples, the worm cannot succeed. To
see that this is the case, imagine that the apples alternate in color, green and red,
in a 3-D checkerboard pattern. If the center apple from which the worm starts is
red, there are 13 red apples and 14 green apples in all. Each time the worm moves
from one apple to another, it will be changing colors. Because the worm starts
from a red apple, it cannot reach more green apples than red apples. Thus, it can-
not visit all 14 green apples if it also visits each of the 13 red apples just once.
Nine-Dot Problem
Anderson_8e_Ch08.indd 208 13/09/14 9:55 AM
A P P e N D I x : S o L u T I o N S / 209
2 1
(a) (b) (c) (d) (e) (f) (g)
(p)(o) (q) (r) Goal state
(m)(n) (l) (k) ( j) (i) (h)
2 216 6 1 1 1
6 6 68 8
88
2 2
88
4 84
2 2
8
8
4 44
4 4 8
66
4 8 84 4
11
66
1
6
44 2
2 2
4 4
7
7
5
5
22
7 5
2
7 5
2
7 5
2
7 5
7 75 5
8
7 5
8 8 2 8
7 7 75 5 5
3 7 5 3
2 4
7 5
3
1 13 3 1 3
6 6
1 3
33
1
6
6
1
2 1
6
8
4
4
6
1
4
7 5
3
3333
7 5 3 7 5 3 7 5 3
2 8 1
64
7 5 3
6
1 3
6
8 1
FIGURE A8.1 The minimum-path solution for the eight-tile problem that was solved less
efficiently in Figure 8.3.
To solve the cheap-necklace problem shown in Figure 8.16, open all three
links in one chain (at a cost of 6¢) and then use the three open links to connect
the remaining three chains (at a cost of 9¢).
The solutions to the three remote association problems are blue, sun, and
apple.
Anderson_8e_Ch08.indd 209 13/09/14 9:55 AM
210
It has been speculated that the expansion of the human brain from Homo erectus
to modern Homo sapiens was driven by the need to quickly learn how to exploit
the novel features of the new environments that our ancient ancestors were
moving into (Skoyles, 1999). This ability to become expert at new things allowed
humans to spread throughout the world and permitted the development of the
technology that has created modern civilization. Humans are the only species that
display this kind of behavioral plasticity—becoming experts at agriculture in Inca
society, navigating the oceans by stars and other means in Polynesian society, or
designing apps for modern smartphones in our society. William G. Chase, late of
Carnegie Mellon University, was one of our local experts on human expertise. He
emphasized two famous mottos that summarize much of the nature of expertise
and its development:
● No pain, no gain.
● When the going gets tough, the tough get going.
The first motto refers to the fact that no one develops expertise without a great deal
of hard work. John R. Hayes (1985), another Carnegie Mellon faculty member, has
studied geniuses in fields varying from music to science to chess. He found that no
one reached genius levels of performance without at least 10 years of practice. Chase’s
second motto refers to the fact that the difference between relative novices and relative
experts increases as we look at more difficult problems. For instance, there are many
chess duffers who could play a credible, if losing, game against a master when they
are given unlimited time to choose moves. However, they would lose embarrassingly if
forced to play lightning chess, where each player is permitted only 5 s per move.
Chapter 8 reviewed some of the general principles governing problem solving,
particularly in novel domains. These principles provide a framework for analyzing
the development of expertise in problem solving. Research on expertise has been a
major development in cognitive science. This research is particularly exciting because
it has important contributions to make to the instruction of technical or formal skills
in areas such as mathematics, science, and engineering, as will be reviewed at the
end of this chapter.
This chapter will address the following questions about the nature of human
expertise:
● What are the stages in the development of expertise?
● How does the organization of a skill change as one becomes expert?
● What are the contributions of practice versus talent to the development of skill?
● How much can skill in one domain transfer to a new domain?
● What are the implications of our knowledge about expertise for teaching new
skills?
9
Expertise
Anderson_8e_Ch09.indd 210 13/09/14 9:57 AM
G e N e R a l C H a R a C T e R I S T I C S o F S k I l l a C q U I S I T I o N / 211
◆ Brain Changes with Skill
Acquisition
As people become more proficient at a task,
they seem to use less of their brains to perform
that task. Figure 9.1 shows fMRI data from Qin
et al. (2003) looking at areas of the brain acti-
vated as college students learned to perform
transformations on equations in an artificial
algebra system. Figure 9.1a shows the regions
activated on their first day of doing the task
and Figure 9.1b shows the regions activated on
the fifth day. As the students achieved greater
efficiency in the performance of the task,
regions of activity dropped out or shrank. The activity in these regions corre-
sponds to metabolic expenditure, and it is quite apparent that, with expertise,
we spend less mental energy doing these tasks.
A general goal of research on expertise is to characterize both the qualita-
tive and the quantitative changes that take place with expertise. The result in
Figure 9.1 can be considered a quantitative result—more practice means more
efficient mental execution. We will look at a number of quantitative measures,
particularly latency, that indicate this increased efficiency. However, there are
also qualitative changes in how a skill is performed with practice. Figure 9.1
does not reveal such changes—in this study, it just seems that fewer areas and
smaller areas, rather than different areas, take part. However, this chapter will
describe the results of other brain-imaging and behavioral studies that indi-
cate that, indeed, the way in which we perform a task can change as we become
expert at it.
■ Through extensive practice, we can develop the high levels of
expertise in novel domains that have supported the evolution of
human civilization.
◆ General Characteristics of Skill Acquisition
Three Stages of Skill Acquisition
The development of a skill typically can be characterized as passing through
three stages (J. R. Anderson, 1983; Fitts & Posner, 1967). Fitts and Posner
call the first stage the cognitive stage. In this stage, participants develop a
declarative encoding of the skill (see the distinction between declarative and
procedural representations at the end of Chapter 7); that is, they commit to
memory a set of facts relevant to the skill. Essentially these facts define the tasks
involved in performing the skill (see Chapter 8). Learners typically rehearse
these facts as they first perform the skill. For instance, when I was first learning
to shift gears in a standard transmission car, I memorized the location of the
gears (e.g., “reverse is up, left” for an old 3-speed transmission) and the correct
sequence of engaging the clutch and moving the stick shift. I rehearsed this
information as I performed the skill.
The information that I had learned about the location and function of the
gears amounted to a set of problem-solving operators for driving the car. For
instance, if I wanted to get the car into reverse, there was the operator of moving
the gear to the upper left. Despite the fact that the knowledge about what to do
FIGURE 9.1 Regions activated
in the symbol-manipulation task
of qin et al. (2003): (a) day 1
of practice; (b) day 5 of practice.
Note that these images depict
“transparent brains,” and the
activation that we see is not just
on the surface but also below the
surface. (Research from Qin et al.,
2003.)
(a) (b)
Brain Structures
Anderson_8e_Ch09.indd 211 13/09/14 9:57 AM
212 / Chapter 9 e x P e R T I S e
next was unambiguous, one would hardly have judged my driving performance
as skilled. My use of the knowledge was very slow because that knowledge was
still in a declarative form. I had to retrieve specific facts and interpret them to
solve my driving problems. I did not have the knowledge in a procedural form.
In the second stage of skill acquisition, called the associative stage, two
main things happen. First, errors in the initial understanding are gradually
detected and eliminated. So, I slowly learned to coordinate the release of the
clutch in first gear with the application of gas so as not to kill the engine. Sec-
ond, the connections among the various elements required for successful per-
formance are strengthened. Thus, I no longer had to sit for a few seconds trying
to remember how to get to second gear from first. Basically, the outcome of the
associative stage is a successful procedure for performing the skill. However, it
is not always the case that the procedural representation of the knowledge re-
places the declarative. Sometimes, the two forms of knowledge can coexist side
by side, as when we can speak a foreign language fluently and still remember
many rules of grammar. However, the procedural, not the declarative, knowl-
edge governs the skilled performance.
The third stage in the standard analysis of skill acquisition is the autono-
mous stage, in which the procedure becomes more and more automated and
rapid. The concept of automaticity was introduced in Chapter 3, where we dis-
cussed how central cognition drops out of the performance of a task as we be-
come more skilled at it. Complex skills such as driving a car or playing chess
gradually evolve in the direction of becoming more automated and requiring
fewer processing resources. For instance, driving a car can become so automatic
that people will engage in conversation while driving and have with no memory
for the traffic that they have just driven through.
■ The three stages of skill acquisition are the cognitive stage, the
associative stage, and the autonomous stage.
Power-Law of Learning
Chapter 6 documented the way in which the retrieval of simple associations
improved as a function of practice according to a power law. It turns out that
the performance of complex skills, requiring the coordination of many such as-
sociations, also improves according to a power law. Figure 9.2 illustrates a well-
known instance of such skill acquisition. This study followed the development
of the cigar-making ability of a worker in a factory for 10 years. The figure plots
the time to make a cigar against number of years of practice. Both scales use
log–log coordinates to expose a power law (recall from Chapters 6 and 7 that a
linear function on log–log coordinates implies a power function in the original
scale). The data in this graph show an approximately linear function until about
the fifth year, at which point the improvement appears to stop. It turns out that
the worker was approaching the cycle time of the cigar-making machinery and
could improve no more. There is usually some limit to how much improvement
can be achieved, determined by the equipment, the capability of a person’s mus-
culature, age, and so on. However, except for these physical limits, there is no
limit on how much a skill can speed up. The time taken by the cognitive com-
ponent of a skill will go to zero, given enough practice.
Effects of practice have also been studied in domains of complex prob-
lem solving, such as giving justifications for geometry-like proofs (Neves &
Anderson, 1981). Figure 9.3 shows a power function for that domain, in both
a normal scale and a log–log scale. Such functions illustrate that the benefit of
further practice rapidly diminishes but that, no matter how much practice we
have had, further practice will help a little.
Anderson_8e_Ch09.indd 212 13/09/14 9:57 AM
G e N e R a l C H a R a C T e R I S T I C S o F S k I l l a C q U I S I T I o N / 213
Kolers (1979) investigated the acquisition of reading skills, by using
materials such as those illustrated in Figure 9.4. The first type of text (N)
is normal, but the others have been transformed in various ways. In the
R transformation, the whole line has been turned upside down; in the I
transformation, each letter has been inverted; in the M transformation,
the sentence has been set as a mirror image of standard type. The rest are
combinations of the several transformations. In one study, Kolers looked at the
effect of massive practice on reading inverted (I) text. Participants took more
than 16 min to read their first page of inverted text compared with 1.5 min for
normal text. After the initial reading-speed test, participants practiced on 200
pages of inverted text. Figure 9.5 provides a log–log plot of reading time against
amount of practice. In this figure, practice is measured as number of pages
read. The change in speed with practice is given by the curve labeled “Original
training on inverted text.” Kolers interspersed a few tests on normal text; data
for these tests are given by the curve labeled “Original tests on normal text.”
10,000 100,000 1,000,000
Number of items produced (logarithmic scale)
100,000,000
10
(7 years)(1 year)
Minimum machine
cycle time
20
30
Cy
cle
ti
m
e
(s
, l
og
ar
ith
m
ic
sc
ale
)
5
FIGURE 9.2 Time required to
produce a cigar as a function of
amount of experience. (From
Crossman, E. R. F. W. (1959). A
theory of the acquisition of speed-
skill. ergonomics, 2, 153–166.
Copyright © 1959 Taylor & Francis.
Reprinted by permission.)
(a)
200
20
Number of problems
Ti
m
e
to
so
lu
tio
n
40 60 80 100
400
600
800
1,000
1,200
1,400
(b)
2,000
1,000
400
200
100
2 4
Log (problems)
Lo
g
(s
)
10 20 40 100
FIGURE 9.3 Time taken to generate proofs in a geometry-like proof system as a function
of the number of proofs already done: (a) function on a normal scale, RT = 1,410P–.55;
(b) function on a log–log scale.
Anderson_8e_Ch09.indd 213 13/09/14 9:57 AM
214 / Chapter 9 e x P e R T I S e
We see the same kind of improvement for inverted text as in Figures 9.2 and 9.3
(i.e., a straight-line function on a log–log plot). After reading 200 pages, Kolers’s
participants were reading at the rate of 1.6 min per page—almost the same rate
as that of participants reading normal text.
A year later, Kolers had his participants read inverted text again. These
data are given by the curve in Figure 9.5 labeled “Retraining on inverted text.”
Participants now took about 3 min to read the first page of the inverted text.
Compared with their performance of 16 min on their first page a year earlier,
participants displayed an enormous savings in time, but it was now taking them
almost twice as long to read the text as it did after their 200 pages of training
FIGURE 9.4 examples of the
spatially transformed texts used in
kolers’s studies of the acquisition
of reading skills. The asterisks
indicate the starting point for
reading. (Reprinted from Kolers,
P. A., & Perkins, P. N. (1975).
Spatial and ordinal components
of form perception and literacy.
Cognitive Psychology, 7, 228–267.
Copyright © 1975 with permission
of Elsevier.)
FIGURE 9.5 The results for
readers in kolers’s reading-skills
experiment on two tests more
than a year apart. Participants
were trained with 200 pages of
inverted text in which pages of
normal text were occasionally
interspersed. a year later, they
were retrained with 100 pages of
inverted text, again with normal
text occasionally interspersed. The
results show the effect of practice
on the acquisition of the skill.
Both reading time and number
of pages practiced are plotted on
a logarithmic scale. (From Kolers,
1976. Copyright by the American
Psychological Association.
Reprinted by permission.)
0
16
8
4
2
1
2 4 8
Page number (logarithmic scale)
Re
ad
in
g
tim
e
(m
in
, l
og
ar
ith
m
ic
sc
ale
)
16 32 64 128 256
Original training on inverted text
Retraining on inverted text
Original tests on normal text
Retraining tests on normal text
Anderson_8e_Ch09.indd 214 13/09/14 9:57 AM
T H e N aT U R e o F e x P e R T I S e / 215
a year earlier. They had clearly forgotten something. As Figure 9.5 illustrates,
participants’ improvement on the retraining trials showed a log–log relation be-
tween practice and performance, as had their original training. The same level
of performance that participants had initially reached after 200 pages of train-
ing was now reached after 50 pages. Skills generally show very high levels of
retention. In many cases, such skills can be maintained for years with no re-
tention loss. Someone coming back to a skill—skiing, for example—after many
years of absence often requires just a short warm-up period before the skill is
reestablished (Schmidt, 1988).
Poldrack and Gabrieli (2001) investigated the brain correlates of the
changes taking place as participants learn to read transformed text such as
that in Figure 9.4. In an fMRI brain-imaging study, they found increased
activity in the basal ganglia and decreased activation in the hippocampus
as learning progressed. Recall from Chapters 6 and 7 that the basal gan-
glia are associated with procedural knowledge, whereas the hippocampus
is associated with declarative knowledge. Similar changes in the activation
of brain areas have been found by Poldrack et al. (1999) in another skill-
acquisition task that required the classification of stimuli. As participants
develop their skill, they appear to move to a direct recognition of the stimuli.
Thus, the results of this brain-imaging research reveal changes consistent
with the switch between the cognitive and the associative stages. Thus, quali-
tative changes appear to be contributing to the quantitative changes captured
by the power function. We will consider these qualitative changes in more
detail in the next section.
■ Performance of a cognitive skill improves as a power function of
practice and shows modest declines only over long retention intervals.
◆ The Nature of Expertise
So far in this chapter we have considered some of the phenomena associated
with skill acquisition. An understanding of the mechanisms behind these phe-
nomena has come from examining the nature of expertise in various fields of
endeavor such as mathematics, chess, computer programming, and physics.
This research compares people at various levels of development of their exper-
tise. Sometimes this research is truly longitudinal and follows students from
their introduction to a field to their development of some expertise. More typi-
cally, such research samples people at different levels of expertise. For instance,
research on medical expertise might look at students just beginning medical
school, residents, and doctors with many years of medical practice. This re-
search has begun to identify some of the ways that problem solving becomes
more effective with experience. The following subsections describe some of
these dimensions of the development of expertise.
Proceduralization
The degree to which participants rely on declarative versus procedural knowl-
edge changes dramatically as expertise develops. It is illustrated in my own
work on the development of expertise in geometry (J. R. Anderson, 1982). One
student had just learned the side-side-side (SSS) and side-angle-side (SAS) pos-
tulates for proving triangles congruent. The side-side-side postulate states that,
if three sides of one triangle are congruent to the corresponding sides of an-
other triangle, the triangles are congruent. The side-angle-side postulate states
that, if two sides and the included angle of one triangle are congruent to the
Anderson_8e_Ch09.indd 215 13/09/14 9:57 AM
216 / Chapter 9 e x P e R T I S e
corresponding parts of another triangle, the triangles are congruent. Figure 9.6
illustrates the first problem that the student had to solve. The first thing that he
did in trying to solve this problem was to decide which postulate to use. The
following is a part of his thinking-aloud protocol, during which he decided on
the appropriate postulate:
If you looked at the side-angle-side postulate (long pause) well RK
and RJ could almost be (long pause) what the missing (long pause)
the missing side. I think somehow the side-angle-side postulate works
its way into here (long pause). Let’s see what it says: “Two sides and
the included angle.” What would I have to have to have two sides JS
and KS are one of them. Then you could go back to RS = RS. So that
would bring up the side-angle-side postulate (long pause). But where
would Angle 1 and Angle 2 are right angles fit in (long pause) wait I
see how they work (long pause). JS is congruent to KS (long pause)
and with Angle 1 and Angle 2 are right angles that’s a little problem
(long pause). OK, what does it say—check it one more time: “If two
sides and the included angle of one triangle are congruent to the cor-
responding parts.” So I have got to find the two sides and the included
angle. With the included angle you get Angle 1 and Angle 2. I suppose
(long pause) they are both right angles, which means they are congru-
ent to each other. My first side is JS is to KS. And the next one is RS to
RS. So these are the two sides. Yes, I think it is the side-angle-side pos-
tulate. (J. R. Anderson, 1982, pp. 381–382)
After a series of four more problems (two solved by SAS and two by SSS), the
student applied the SAS postulate in solving the problem illustrated in Figure 9.7.
The method-recognition part of the protocol was as follows:
Right off the top of my head I am going to take a guess at what I am
supposed to do: Angle DCK is congruent to Angle ABK. There is only
one of two and the side-angle-side postulate is what they are getting to.
(J. R. Anderson, 1982, p. 382)
A number of things seem striking about the contrast between these two proto-
cols. One is that the application of the postulate has clearly sped up. A second
is that there is no verbal rehearsal of the statement of the postulate in the sec-
ond case. The student is no longer calling a declarative representation of the
postulate into working memory. Note also that, in the first protocol, working
memory fails a number of times—points at which the student had to recover
information that he had forgotten. The third feature of difference is that, in
the first protocol, application of the postulate is piecemeal; the student is sepa-
rately identifying every element of the postulate. Piecemeal application is ab-
sent in the second protocol. It appears that the postulate is being matched in a
single step.
These transitions are like the ones that Fitts and Posner characterized as
belonging to the associative stage of skill acquisition. The student is no longer
relying on verbal recall of the postulate but has advanced to the point where
he can simply recognize the application of the postulate as a pattern. Pattern
recognition is an important part of the procedural embodiment of a skill. We
no longer have to think about what to do next; we just recognize what is ap-
propriate for the situation. The process of converting the deliberate use of de-
clarative knowledge into pattern-driven application of procedural knowledge is
called proceduralization.
In J. R. Anderson (2007) I reviewed a number of studies in our labora-
tory looking at the effects of practice on the performance of mathematical
problem-solving tasks like the ones we have been discussing in this section. We
A
B
K
3
1
2
4
C
D Given: ∠1 ≅ ∠2
Prove: ∆ABK ≅ ∆DCK
AB ≅ DC
BK ≅ CK
FIGURE 9.7 The sixth geometry-
proof problem encountered
by a student after studying the
side-side-side and side-angle-side
postulates.
R
J
S
1
2
K
Given: ∠1 and ∠2 are right angles
Prove: ∆RSJ ≅ ∆RSK
JS ≅ KS
FIGURE 9.6 The first geometry-
proof problem encountered
by a student after studying the
side-side-side and side-angle-side
postulates.
Anderson_8e_Ch09.indd 216 13/09/14 9:57 AM
T H e N aT U R e o F e x P e R T I S e / 217
were interested in the effects of this sort of practice on the three brain regions
illustrated in Chapter 1, Figure 1.15:
Motor, which is involved in programming the actual motor move-
ments in writing out the solution;
Parietal, which is involved in representing the problem internally; and
Prefrontal, which is involved in retrieving things like the task
instructions.
In addition we looked at a fourth region:
Anterior cingulate cortex (ACC), which is involved in the control of
cognition—see Figure 3.1 and later discussion in Chapter 3.
Figure 9.8 shows the mean level of activation in these regions initially and
after 5 days of practice. The motor and cognitive control of the tasks do not
change much and so there is comparable activation early versus late in the mo-
tor cortex and the ACC. There is some reduction in the parietal suggesting that
the representational demands may be decreasing a bit. However, the dramatic
change is in the prefrontal, which is showing a major decrease because the task
instructions are no longer being retrieved. Rather, the knowledge is coming to
be directly applied.
■ Proceduralization refers to the process by which people switch from
explicit use of declarative knowledge to direct application of proce-
dural knowledge, which enables them to perform the task without
thinking about it.
Tactical Learning
As students practice problems, they come to learn the sequences of actions
required to solve a problem or parts of a problem. Learning to execute such se-
quences of actions is called tactical learning. A tactic refers to a method that
accomplishes a particular goal. For instance, Greeno (1974) found that it took
only about four repetitions of the hobbits and orcs problem (see the discussion
surrounding Figure 8.7 in Chapter 8) before participants could solve the prob-
lem perfectly. In this experiment, participants were learning the sequence of
moves to get the creatures across the river. Once they had learned the sequence,
they could simply recall it and did not have to figure it out.
ParietalMotor
Brain region
Pe
rc
en
t c
ha
ng
e
fro
m
b
as
el
in
e
ac
tiv
at
io
n
Prefrontal ACC
0.10
0
0.05
0.15
0.20
0.25
0.30
Late
Early
FIGURE 9.8 Representation of
the activity in four brain regions
while performing tasks early on
versus after 5 days of practice.
Anderson_8e_Ch09.indd 217 13/09/14 9:57 AM
218 / Chapter 9 e x P e R T I S e
Logan (1988) argued that a general mechanism
of skill acquisition involves learning to recall solutions
to problems that formerly had to be figured out. A
nice illustration of this mechanism is from a domain
called alpha-arithmetic. It entails solving problems
such as F 1 3, in which the participant is supposed
to say the letter that is the number of letters forward
in the alphabet—in this case, F 1 3 5 I. Logan and
Klapp (1991) performed an experiment in which they
gave participants problems with numbers from 2 (e.g.,
C 1 2) through 5 (e.g., G 1 5). Figure 9.9 shows the
time taken by participants to answer these problems
initially and then after 12 sessions of practice. Initially,
participants took 1.5 s longer on problems with 5 than
on problems with 2, because it takes longer to count
five letters forward in the alphabet than two letters.
However, the problems were repeated again and again
across the sessions. With repeated, continued practice,
participants became faster on all problems, reaching
the point where they could solve with 5 as quickly as
the problems with 2. They had memorized the answers
to these problems and were not going through the pro-
cedure of solving the problems by counting.1
There is evidence that, as people become more practiced at a task and
shift from computation to retrieval, brain activation shifts from the prefron-
tal cortex to more posterior areas of the cortex. For instance, Jenkins, Brooks,
Nixon, Frackowiak, and Passingham (1994) looked at participants learning to
key out various sequences of finger presses such as “ring, index, middle, little,
middle, index, ring, index.” They compared participants initially learning these
sequences with participants practiced in these sequences. Using PET imaging
they found that there was more activation in frontal areas early in learning than
late in learning.2 On the other hand, later in learning, there was more activation
in the hippocampus, which is a structure associated with memory. Such results
indicate that, early in a task, there is significant involvement of the anterior cin-
gulate in organizing the behavior but that, late in learning, participants are just
recalling the answers from memory. Thus, these neurophysiological data are
consistent with Logan’s proposal.
■ Tactical learning refers to a process by which people learn specific
procedures for solving specific problems.
Strategic Learning
The preceding subsection on tactical learning was concerned with how students
learn tactics by memorizing sequences of actions to solve problems. Many
smaller problems repeat so often that we can solve them this way. However,
large and complex problems do not repeat exactly, but they still have similar
structures, and one can learn how to organize one’s solution to the over-
all problem. Learning how to organize one’s problem solving to capitalize on
La
te
nc
y
(s
)
3.0
2.0
4.0
1.0
0.0
21
Addend
Session 1
Session 12
3 4 5
FIGURE 9.9 after 12 sessions,
participants solved alpha-
arithmetic problems with various-
sized addends in considerably less
time. (From Logan, G. D., & Klapp,
S. T. (1991). Automatizing alphabet
arithmetic. I. Is extended practice
necessary to produce automaticity?
Journal of experimental Psychology:
learning, Memory, and Cognition,
17, 179–195. Copyright © 1991
American Psychological Association.
Reprinted by permission.)
1 Rabinowitz and Goldberg (1995) reported a study making a similar point.
2 This early-learning activation included the same anterior cingulate whose activity did not change in the
mathematical problem-solving tasks in Figure 9.8. However, in this simpler experiment the need for con-
trol dramatically changes, and there is less activity later in the anterior cingulate.
Anderson_8e_Ch09.indd 218 13/09/14 9:57 AM
T H e N aT U R e o F e x P e R T I S e / 219
the general structure of a class of problems is referred to as
strategic learning. The contrast between tactical and strate-
gic learning in skill acquisition is analogous to the distinction
between tactics and strategy in the military. In the military,
tactics refers to smaller scale battlefield maneuvers, whereas
strategy refers to higher level organization of a military cam-
paign. Similarly, tactical learning involves learning new pieces
of skill, whereas strategic learning is concerned with putting
them together.
One of the clearest demonstrations of such strategic
learning is in the domain of physics problem solving.
Researchers have compared novice and expert solutions to
problems like the one depicted in Figure 9.10. A block of mass (m) is sliding
down an inclined plane of length l, and u is the angle between the plane and the
horizontal. The coefficient of friction is µ. The participant’s task is to find the
velocity of the block when it reaches the bottom of the plane. The novices in
these studies are beginning college students and the experts are their teachers.
In one study comparing novices and experts, Larkin (1981) found a dif-
ference in how they approached the problem. Table 9.1 shows a typical novice’s
solution to the problem and Table 9.2 shows a typical expert’s solution. The
novice’s solution typifies the reasoning backward method, which starts with the
unknown—in this case, the velocity v. Then the novice finds an equation for
calculating v. However, to calculate v by this equation, it is necessary to calcu-
late a, the acceleration. So the novice finds an equation for calculating a; and the
novice chains backward until a set of equations is found for solving the problem.
�
� l
FIGURE 9.10 a sketch of a
sample physics problem. (From
Larkin, J. H. (1981). Enriching
formal knowledge: A model for
learning to solve textbook physics
problems. In J. R. Anderson (Ed.),
Cognitive skills and their acquisition
(pp. 311–335). Copyright © 1981
Erlbaum. Reprinted by permission.)
To find the desired final speed v requires a principle with v in it—say
v = v0 + 2 at
But both a and t are unknown; so that seems hopeless. Try instead
v2 – v0
2 = 2 ax
In that equation, v0 is zero and x is known; so it remains to find a. Therefore, try
F = ma
In that equation, m is given and only F is unknown; therefore, use
F = SF ‘s
which in this case means
F = Fg – f
where Fg and f can be found from
Fg = mg sin u
f = mN
N = mg cos u
With a variety of substitutions, a correct expression for speed,
can be found.
Information from larkin (1981).
TABLE 9.1 Typical Novice Solution to a Physics Problem
v =œ2(g sin u 2 mg cos u)
Anderson_8e_Ch09.indd 219 13/09/14 9:57 AM
220 / Chapter 9 e x P e R T I S e
The expert, on the other hand, uses similar equations but in the completely
opposite order. The expert starts with quantities that can be directly computed,
such as gravitational force, and works toward the desired velocity. It is also
apparent that the expert is speaking a bit like the physics teacher that he is,
leaving the final substitutions for the student.
Another study, by Priest and Lindsay (1992), failed to find a difference in
problem-solving direction between novices and experts. Their study included
British university students rather than American students, and they found that
both novices and experts predominantly reasoned forward. However, their ex-
perts were much more successful in doing so. Priest and Lindsay suggest that
the experts have the necessary experience to know which forward inferences
are appropriate for a problem. It seems that novices have two choices—reason
forward, but fail (Priest & Lindsay’s students) or reason backward, which is
hard (Larkin’s students).
Reasoning backward is hard because it requires setting goals and subgoals
and keeping track of them. For instance, a student must remember that he or
she is calculating F so that a can be calculated in order for v to be calculated.
Thus, reasoning backward puts a severe strain on working memory and this can
lead to errors. Reasoning forward eliminates the need to keep track of subgoals.
However, to successfully reason forward, one must know which of the many
possible forward inferences are relevant to the final solution, which is what an
expert learns with experience. That is, experts learn to associate various infer-
ences with various patterns of features in the problems. The novices in Larkin’s
study seemed to prefer to struggle with backward reasoning, whereas the
novices in Priest and Lindsay’s study tried forward reasoning without success.
Not all domains show this advantage for forward problem solving. A good
counterexample is computer programming (J. R. Anderson, Farrell, & Sauers,
1984; Jeffries, Turner, Polson, & Atwood, 1981; Rist, 1989). Both novice and
expert programmers develop programs in what is called a top-down man-
ner: that is, they work from the statement of the problem to subproblems to
sub-subproblems, and so on, until they solve the problem. This top-down
TABLE 9.2 Skilled Solution to a Physics Problem
The motion of the block is accounted for by the gravitational force,
Fg = mg sin u
directed downward along the plane, and the frictional force,
f = mmg cos u
directed upward along the plane. The block’s acceleration a is then related to the
(signed) sum of these forces by
F = ma
or
mg sin u – mmg cos u = ma
knowing the acceleration a, it is then possible to find the block’s final speed v from
the relations
and
v = at
Information from larkin (1981).
1–
2
l = at2
Anderson_8e_Ch09.indd 220 13/09/14 9:57 AM
T H e N aT U R e o F e x P e R T I S e / 221
development is basically the same as what is called reasoning backward in the
context of geometry or physics. However, there are differences between expert
programmers and novice programmers. Experts tend to develop problem solu-
tions breadth first, in which they will work out all of the high-level solution, then
decompose that into more detail, and so on, until they get to the final code. In
contrast, novices will completely code the part of the problem before really
working out the overall solution. Physics and geometry problems have a rich
set of givens that are more predictive of solutions than is the goal, and this ena-
bles forward problem solving. In contrast, nothing in the typical statement of a
programming problem would guide a working forward or bottom-up solu-
tion. The typical problem statement only describes the goal and often does so
with information that will guide a top-down solution. Thus, we see that exper-
tise in different domains requires the adoption of those approaches that will be
successful for those particular domains.
In summary, the transition from novices to experts does not entail the
same changes in strategy in all domains. Different problem domains have dif-
ferent structures that make different strategies optimal. Physics experts learn to
reason forward; programming experts learn breadth-first expansion.
■ Strategic learning refers to a process by which people learn to
organize their problem solving.
Problem Perception
As they acquire expertise, problem solvers learn to perceive problems in ways
that enable more effective problem-solving procedures to apply. This dimension
can be nicely demonstrated in the domain of physics. Physics, being an intel-
lectually deep subject, has problems where the principles for solution are not
explicitly represented in the statement of the physics problem. Experts learn to
see these implicit principles and represent problems in terms of them.
Chi, Feltovich, and Glaser (1981) asked participants to classify a large set
of problems into similar categories. Figure 9.11 shows pairs of problems that
novices thought were similar and the novices’ explanations for the similarity
groupings. As can be seen, the novices chose surface features, such as rota-
tions or inclined planes, as their bases for classification. Being a physics novice
myself, I have to admit that these seem very intuitive bases for similarity.
Novice 2: “Angular velocity, momentum,
circular things.”
Novice 3: “Rotation kinematics, angular
speeds, angular velocities.”
Novice 6: “Problems that have something
rotating: angular speed.”
�
T�
R
10 M
M
V
m
Novice 1: “These deal with blocks on an incline plane.”
Novice 5: “Inclined plane problems, coefficient of friction.”
Novice 6: “Blocks on inclined planes with angles.”
2 lb.
� = 2
Length
2 ft
308
308M
�
Vo 5 4 ft/s
FIGURE 9.11 Diagrams depicting pairs of problems categorized by novices as similar
and samples of their explanations for the similarity. (Reprinted from Chi, M. T. H., Feltovich,
P. J., & Glaser, R. (1981). Categorization and representation of physics problems by experts
and novices. Cognitive Science, 5, 121–152. Copyright © 1981 with permission of Elsevier.)
Anderson_8e_Ch09.indd 221 13/09/14 9:57 AM
222 / Chapter 9 e x P e R T I S e
Contrast these classifications with the pairs of problems in Figure 9.12 that
the expert participants saw as similar. Problems that are completely different
on the surface were seen as similar because they both entailed conservation of
energy or they both used Newton’s second law. Thus, experts have the ability to
map surface features of a problem onto these deeper principles. This ability is
very useful because the deeper principles are more predictive of the method of
solution. This shift in classification from reliance on simple features to reliance
on more complex features has been found in a number of domains, including
mathematics (Silver, 1979; Schoenfeld & Herrmann, 1982), computer program-
ming (Weiser & Shertz, 1983), and medical diagnosis (Lesgold et al., 1988).
A good example of this shift in processing of perceptual features is the in-
terpretation of X rays. Figure 9.13 is a schematic of one of the X rays diagnosed
by participants in the research by Lesgold et al. The sail-like area in the right
lung is a shadow (shown on the left side of the X ray) caused by a collapsed
lobe of the lung that created a denser shadow in the X ray than did other parts
of the lung. Medical students interpreted this shadow as an indication of a tu-
mor because tumors are the most common cause of shadows on the lung.
Expert 2: “These can be solved by Newton’s
second law.”
Expert 3: “F = ma; Newton’s second law.”
Expert 4: “Largely use F = ma; Newton’s
second law.”
.6 m
.15 m
Equilibrium
Expert 2: “Conservation of energy.”
Expert 3: “Work energy theorem. They are all straightforward
problems.”
Expert 4: “These can be done from energy considerations.
Either you should know the principle of conservation
of energy, or work is lost somewhere.”
K = 200 nt/m
308M
�
Length
T T
m
M
Mg
mg mg
Fp = Kv
FIGURE 9.12 Diagrams depicting pairs of problems categorized by experts as similar and
samples of their explanations for the similarity. (Reprinted from Chi, M. T. H., Feltovich, P. J.,
& Glaser, R. (1981). Categorization and representation of physics problems by experts and
novices. Cognitive Science, 5, 121–152. Copyright © 1981 with permission of Elsevier.)
Novice: Tumor
Expert: Collapsed lung
What causes
this shadow ?
FIGURE 9.13 Schematic repre-
sentation of an x ray showing a
collapsed right middle lung lobe.
(From Lesgold, A., Rubinson, H.,
Feltovich, P., Glaser, R., Klopfer, D.,
et al. (1988). Expertise in a com-
plex skill: Diagnosing X-ray pictures.
In M. T. H. Chi, R. Glaser, & M. J.
Farr (Eds.), The nature of expertise
(pp. 311–342). Copyright © 1988
Erlbaum. Reprinted by permission.)
Anderson_8e_Ch09.indd 222 13/09/14 9:57 AM
T H e N aT U R e o F e x P e R T I S e / 223
Radiological experts, on the other hand, were able to correctly interpret the
shadow as an indication of a collapsed lobe. They saw that features such as
the size of the sail-like region are counterindicative of a tumor. Because the
radiologists are experts at examining these X rays, they no longer rely on a sim-
ple associations between shadows on the lungs and tumors, but rather can see a
richer set of features in X rays.
■ An important dimension of growing expertise is the ability to learn
to perceive problems in ways that enable more effective problem-
solving procedures to apply.
Pattern Learning and Memory
A surprising discovery about expertise is that experts seem to display a special
enhanced memory for information about problems in their domains of exper-
tise. This enhanced memory was first discovered in the research of de Groot
(1965, 1966), who was attempting to determine what separated master chess
players from weaker chess players. It turns out that chess masters are not par-
ticularly more intelligent in domains other than chess. De Groot found hardly
any differences between expert players and weaker players—except, of course,
that the expert players chose much better moves. For instance, a chess master
considers about the same number of possible moves as does a weak chess player
before selecting a move. In fact, if anything, masters consider fewer moves than
do chess duffers.
However, de Groot did find one intriguing difference between masters and
weaker players. He presented chess masters with chess positions (i.e., chess-
boards with pieces in a configuration that occurred in a game) for just 5 s and
then removed the chess pieces. The chess masters were able to reconstruct the
positions of more than 20 pieces after just 5 s of study. In contrast, the chess
duffers could reconstruct only 4 or 5 pieces—an amount much more in line
with the traditional capacity of working memory. Chess masters appear to have
built up patterns of 4 or 5 pieces that correspond to common board configura-
tions as a result of the massive amount of experience that they have had with
chess. Thus, they remember not individual pieces but these patterns. In line
with this analysis, if the players are presented with random chessboard posi-
tions rather than ones that are actually encountered in games, no difference is
demonstrated between masters and duffers—both reconstruct the positions of
only a few pieces. The masters also complain about being very uncomfortable
and disturbed by such chaotic board positions.
In a systematic analysis, Chase and Simon (1973) compared novices,
Class A (advanced) players, and masters. They compared these different types
of players with respect to their ability to reproduce game positions such as
those shown in Figure 9.14a and to reproduce random positions such as those
illustrated in Figure 9.14b. As shown in Figure 9.15, memory was poorer for
all groups for the random positions, and if anything, masters were worst at re-
producing these positions. On the other hand, masters showed a considerable
advantage for the actual board positions. This basic phenomenon of superior
expert memory for meaningful problems has been demonstrated in a large
number of domains, including the game of Go (Reitman, 1976), electronic cir-
cuit diagrams (Egan & Schwartz, 1979), bridge hands (Engle & Bukstel, 1978;
Charness, 1979), and computer programming (McKeithen, Reitman, Rueter, &
Hirtle, 1981; Schneiderman, 1976).
Chase and Simon (1973) also used a chessboard-reproduction task to
examine the nature of the patterns, or “chunks,” used by chess masters. The
participants’ task was simply to reproduce the positions of pieces of a target
Anderson_8e_Ch09.indd 223 13/09/14 9:57 AM
224 / Chapter 9 e x P e R T I S e
chessboard on a test chessboard. In this task, participants glanced at the tar-
get board, placed some pieces on the test board, glanced back to the tar-
get board, placed some more pieces on the test board, and so on. Chase and
Simon defined a chunk to be a group of pieces
that participants moved after one glance. They
found that these chunks tended to define mean-
ingful game relations among the pieces. For in-
stance, more than half of the masters’ chunks
were pawn chains (configurations of pawns that
occur frequently in chess).
Simon and Gilmartin (1973) estimated
that chess masters have acquired 50,000 dif-
ferent chess chunks, that they can quickly rec-
ognize such patterns on a chessboard, and that
this ability is what underlies their superior
memory performance in chess. This 50,000
figure is not unreasonable when one consid-
ers the years of dedicated study that becom-
ing a chess master requires. What might be the
relation between memory for so many chess
patterns and superior performance in chess?
Newell and Simon (1972) speculated that, in
(a)
(b)
Middle game End game
White
Black
Random middle game Random end game
FIGURE 9.14 examples of (a) middle and end games and (b) their randomized
counterparts.
0
Beginner
Nu
m
be
r o
f p
ie
ce
s c
or
re
ctl
y
pl
ac
ed
Class A Master
2
4
6
8
10
12
14
16
18
Actual game positions
Random positions
FIGURE 9.15 Number of pieces
successfully recalled by chess
players after the first study of a
chessboard. (Data from Chase &
Simon, 1973.)
Anderson_8e_Ch09.indd 224 13/09/14 9:57 AM
T H e N aT U R e o F e x P e R T I S e / 225
addition to learning many patterns, masters have learned what to do in the
presence of such patterns. For instance, if the chunk pattern is symptomatic of
weakness on one side of the board, the response might be to suggest an attack
on the weak side. Thus, masters effectively “see” possibilities for moves; they
do not have to think them out, which explains why chess masters do so well at
lightning chess, in which they have only a few seconds for each move.
The acquisition of chess expertise appears to involve neural reorganization
in the fusiform visual area. We reviewed in Chapter 2 how the fusiform tended
to be engaged in recognition of faces but can be engaged by other stimuli (e.g.,
Figure 2.23) for which people have acquired high levels of expertise. It also ap-
pears to be engaged in the development of chess expertise. Figure 9.16a shows
examples of the board configurations that Bilalić, Langner, Ulrich, and Grodd
(2011) presented to chess experts and to novices. The chessboards show po-
sitions found in normal chess games or random positions. Participants’ tasks
were to indicate whether the king was in check (the Check task) or whether
the position included knights of both colors (the Knight task). In Figure 9.16b,
the blue bars show activity levels in the fusiform area when participants were
presented with normal chess positions, whereas the gray bars show activity for
random positions. As you can see, activation in the fusiform area was consid-
erably higher for experts than for novices. Also, for experts, the normal chess
positions produced greater activation than did the random chess positions; in
contrast, for novices, normal versus random positions produced no difference
in activation.
To summarize, chess experts have stored the solutions to many problems
that duffers must solve as novel problems. Duffers have to analyze different
configurations, try to figure out their consequences, and act accordingly.
Masters have all this information stored in memory, thereby claiming two
advantages. First, they do not risk making errors in solving these problems,
because they have stored the correct solution. Second, because they have
stored correct analyses of so many positions, they can focus their problem-
solving efforts on more sophisticated aspects and strategies of chess. Thus, the
experts’ pattern learning and better memory for board positions is a part of
the tactical learning discussed earlier. The way humans become expert at chess
reflects the fact that we are very good at pattern recognition but relatively
NoviceExpertNovice
Check Knight
Expert
Si
gn
al
c
ha
ng
e
(%
)
0.5
1.0
1.5
2.0
0.0
FIGURE 9.16 (a) examples
of the chess stimuli and tasks
used by Bilalić et al. (2011).
The chessboards show normal
or random chess positions. In
the Check task, participants had
to indicate whether the white
king was in check (on these two
boards, the answer is yes, as
indicated by the arrows); in the
knight task, participants had to in-
dicate whether there were knights
of both colors on the board
(again, the answer is yes on
these boards, as indicated by the
circles). (b) activation levels (per-
centage signal change relative
to baseline) in the right fusiform
area in experts and novices when
executing the Check and knight
tasks (the blue bars show activ-
ity for normal positions; the gray
bars show activity for random po-
sitions). (From Bilalić, M., Langner,
R., Ulrich, R., & Grodd, W. (2011).
Many faces of expertise: Fusiform
face area in chess experts and nov-
ices. The Journal of Neuroscience,
31(28), 10206–10214. Copyright
© 2011 Society For Neuroscience.
Reprinted by permission.)
(b)
(a)
R
an
d
o
m
N
o
rm
al
Check Knight
Anderson_8e_Ch09.indd 225 13/09/14 9:57 AM
226 / Chapter 9 e x P e R T I S e
poor at things like mentally searching through sequences of possible moves.
As the Implications Box describes, human strengths and weaknesses lead to
a very different way of achieving expertise at chess than we see in computer
programs for playing chess.
■ Experts can recognize patterns of elements that repeat in many
problems, and know what to do in the presence of such patterns with-
out having to think them through.
Long-Term Memory and Expertise
One might think that the memory advantage shown by experts is just a working-
memory advantage, but research has shown that their advantage extends to
long-term memory. Charness (1976) compared experts’ memory for chess posi-
tions immediately after they had viewed the positions or after a 30-s delay filled
with an interfering task. Class A chess players showed no loss in recall over the
30-s interval, unlike weaker participants, who showed a great deal of forgetting.
Thus, expert chess players, unlike duffers, have an increased capacity to store in-
formation about the domain. Interestingly, these participants showed the same
poor memory for three-letter trigrams as do ordinary participants. Thus, their
increased long-term memory is only for the domain of expertise.
Computers achieve chess
expertise differently than
humans
In Chapter 8, we discussed how
human problem solving can be
viewed as a search of a problem
space, consisting of various states.
The initial situation is the start state,
the situations on the way to the goal
are the intermediate states, and the
solution is the goal state. Chapter 8
also described how people use
certain methods, such as avoiding
backup, difference reduction, and
means-ends analysis, to move
through the states. often when
humans search a problem space,
they actually manipulate the physical
world, as in the eight puzzle
(Figures 8.3 and 8.4). However,
sometimes they imagine states, as
when one plays chess and contem-
plates how an opponent will react to
some move one is considering, how
one might react to the opponent’s
move, and so on. Computers are
very effective at representing such
hypothetical states and searching
through them for the optimal goal
state. artificial intelligence algorithms
have been developed that are suc-
cessful at all sorts of problem-solving
applications, including playing chess.
This has led to a style of chess-playing
program that is very different from
human chess play, which relies much
more on pattern recognition. at first
many people thought that, although
such computer programs could play
competent and modestly competi-
tive chess games, they would be no
match for the best human players.
The philosopher Hubert Dreyfus, who
was famously critical of computer
chess in the 1960s, was beaten by
the program written by an MIT un-
dergraduate, Richard Greenblatt, in
1966 (Boden, 2006, discusses the
intrigue surrounding these events).
However, Dreyfus was a chess duf-
fer and the programs of the 1960s
and 1970s performed poorly against
chess masters. as computers became
more powerful and could search
larger spaces, they became increas-
ingly competitive until in May 1997,
IBM’s Deep Blue program defeated
the reigning world champion, Gary
kasparov. Deep Blue evaluated
200 million imagined chess posi-
tions per second. It also had stored
records of 4,000 opening positions
and 700,000 master games (Hsu,
2002) and had many other optimiza-
tions that took advantage of special
computer hardware. Today there
are freely available chess programs
for your personal computer that can
be downloaded over the Web and
will play highly competitive chess
at a master level. These develop-
ments have led to a profound shift
in the understanding of intelligence.
It once was thought that there was
only one way to achieve high lev-
els of intelligent behavior, and that
was the human way. Nowadays it
is increasingly accepted that intel-
ligence can be achieved in different
ways, and the human way may not
always be the best. also, curiously, as
a consequence some researchers no
longer view the ability to play chess as
a reflection of the essence of human
intelligence.
I m p l I c a t I o n s
▼
im
ag
eB
RO
KE
R/
Al
am
y
▲
Anderson_8e_Ch09.indd 226 13/09/14 9:57 AM
T H e N aT U R e o F e x P e R T I S e / 227
Experts appear to be able to remember more
patterns as well as larger patterns. For instance,
Chase and Simon (1973) in their study (see Fig-
ures 9.14 and 9.15) tried to identify the patterns
that their participants used to recall the chess-
boards. They found that participants would tend
to recall a pattern, pause, recall another pattern,
pause, and so on. They found that they could use
a 2-s pause to identify boundaries between pat-
terns. With this objective definition of what a pat-
tern is, they could then explore how many patterns
were recalled and how large these patterns were.
In comparing a master chess player with a begin-
ner, they found large differences in both measures.
First, the pattern size of the master averaged 3.8
pieces, whereas it was only 2.4 for the beginner.
Second, the master also recalled an average of 7.7
patterns per board, whereas the beginner recalled
an average of only 5.3. Thus, it seems that the experts’ memory advantage is
based not only on larger patterns but also on the ability to recall more of them.
Compelling evidence that expertise requires the ability to remember more
patterns as well as larger patterns comes from Chase and Ericsson (1982), who
studied the development of a simple but remarkable skill. They watched a
participant, called SF, increase his digit span, which is the number of digits that
he could repeat after one presentation. As discussed in Chapter 6, the normal
digit span is about 7 or 8 items, just enough to accommodate a telephone num-
ber. After about 200 hr of practice, SF was able to recall 81 random digits pre-
sented at the rate of 1 digit per second. Figure 9.17 illustrates how his memory
span grew with practice.
What was behind this apparently superhuman feat of memory? In part,
SF was learning to chunk the digits into meaningful patterns. He was a long-
distance runner, and part of his technique was to convert digits into run-
ning times. So, he would take 4 digits, such as 3492, and convert them into
“Three minutes, 49.2 seconds—near world-record mile time.” Using such
a strategy, he could convert a memory span for 7 digits into a memory span
for 7 patterns consisting of 3 or 4 digits each. This would get him to a digit
span of more than 20, far short of his eventual performance. In addition to this
chunking, he developed what Chase and Ericsson called a retrieval structure,
which enabled him to recall 22 such patterns. This retrieval structure was very
specific; it did not generalize to retrieving letters rather than digits. Chase and
Ericsson hypothesized that part of what underlies the development of exper-
tise in other domains, such as chess, is the development of retrieval structures,
which allows superior recall for past patterns.
■ As people become more expert in a domain, they develop a better
ability to store problem information in long-term memory and to re-
trieve it.
The Role of Deliberate Practice
An implication of all the research that we have reviewed is that exper-
tise comes only with an investment of a great deal of time to learn the pat-
terns, the methods, and the appropriate overall approach for a domain. As
mentioned earlier, John Hayes found that geniuses in various fields produce
their best work only after 10 years of apprenticeship in their field. In another
10
20
40
60
80
20
Practice (5-day blocks)
Di
gi
t s
pa
n
30 40 50
FIGURE 9.17 The growth in
SF’s memory span with prac-
tice. Notice how the number of
digits that he can recall increases
gradually but steadily with the
number of practice sessions.
(From Chase, W. G., & Ericsson,
K. A. (1982). Skill and working
memory. In G. H. Bower (Ed.), The
psychology of learning and motiva-
tion (Vol. 16, pp. 1–58). Copyright
© 1982 Academic Press. Reprinted
by permission.)
Anderson_8e_Ch09.indd 227 13/09/14 9:57 AM
228 / Chapter 9 e x P e R T I S e
research effort, Ericsson, Krampe, and Tesch-Römer (1993) compared the
best violinists at a music academy in Berlin with those who were only very
good. They looked at diaries and self-estimates to determine how much the
two populations had practiced and estimated that the best violinists had prac-
ticed more than 7,000 hr before coming to the academy, whereas the very
good had practiced only 5,000 hr. Ericsson et al. reviewed a great many fields
where, like music, time spent practicing is critical. Not only is time on task
important at the highest levels of performance, but also it is essential to mas-
tering school subjects. For instance, J. R. Anderson, Reder, and Simon (1998)
noted that a major reason for the higher achievement in mathematics of
students in Asian countries is that those students spend twice as much time
practicing mathematics.
Ericsson et al. (1993) make the strong claim that almost all of expertise
is to be accounted for by amount of practice, and there is virtually no role for
natural talent. They point to the research of Bloom (1985a, 1985b), who looked
at the histories of children who became great in fields such as music or ten-
nis. Bloom found that most of these children got started by playing casually,
but after a short time they typically showed promise and were encouraged by
their parents to start serious training with a teacher. However, the early natural
abilities of these children were surprisingly modest and did not predict ultimate
success in the domain (Ericsson et al., 1993). Rather, what is critical seems to
be that parents come to believe that a child is talented and consequently pay for
their child’s instruction and equipment as well as support their time-consuming
practice. Ericsson et al. speculated that the resulting training is sufficient to ac-
count for the development of children’s success. Talent almost certainly plays
some role (considered in Chapter 14), but all the evidence indicates that genius
is 90% perspiration and 10% inspiration.
Ericsson et al. are careful to note, however, that not all practice leads to
the development of expertise. They note that many people spend a lifetime
playing chess or some sport without ever getting any better. What is critical,
according to Ericsson et al., is what they call deliberate practice. In deliberate
practice, learners are motivated to learn, not just perform; they are given
feedback on their performance; and they carefully monitor how well their
performance corresponds to the correct performance and where the devia-
tions exist. The learners focus on eliminating these points of discrepancy. The
importance of deliberate practice in the acquisition of expertise is similar to
the importance of deep and elaborative processing in improving memory, as
described in Chapters 6 and 7, in which passive study was shown to yield few
memory benefits.
An important function of deliberate practice in both children and adults
may be to drive the neural growth that is necessary to enable expertise. It was
once thought that adults do not grow new neurons, but it now appears that
they do (Gross, 2000). An interesting recent discovery is that extensive prac-
tice appears to drive neural growth in the adult brain. For instance, Elbert,
Pantev, Wienbruch, Rockstroh, and Taub (1995) found that violinists, who
finger strings with the left hand, show increased development of the right cor-
tical regions that correspond to their fingers. In another study already men-
tioned in Chapter 4, Maguire et al. (2003) used imaging to examine the brains
of London taxi drivers. It takes at least 3 years for London taxi drivers to
acquire all of the knowledge necessary to navigate expertly through the streets
of London. The taxi drivers were found to have significantly more gray matter
in the hippocampal region than did their matched controls. This finding cor-
responds to the increased hippocampal volume reported in small mammals and
birds that engage in behavior requiring navigation (Lee, Miyasato, & Clayton,
1998). For instance, food-storing birds show seasonal increases in hippocampal
Anderson_8e_Ch09.indd 228 13/09/14 9:57 AM
T R a N S F e R o F S k I l l / 229
volume corresponding to times of the year when they need to remember where
they stored food.
■ A great deal of deliberate practice is necessary to develop expertise
in any field.
◆ Transfer of Skill
Expertise can often be quite narrow. As noted, Chase and Ericsson’s participant
SF was unable to transfer memory span skill from digits to letters. This example
is an almost ridiculous extreme of a frequent pattern in the development of cog-
nitive skills—that these skills can be quite narrow and fail to transfer to other
activities. Chess grand masters do not appear to be better thinkers for all their
genius in chess. An amusing example of the narrowness of expertise is provided
by a study by Carraher, Carraher, and Schliemann (1985). These researchers
investigated the mathematical strategies used by Brazilian schoolchildren who
also worked as street vendors. On the job, these children used quite sophisti-
cated strategies for calculating the total cost of orders consisting of different
numbers of different objects (e.g., the total cost of 4 coconuts and 12 lemons);
what’s more, they could perform such calculations reliably in their heads. Car-
raher et al. actually went to the trouble of going to the streets and posing as cus-
tomers for these children, making certain kinds of purchases and recording the
percentage of correct calculations. The experimenters then asked the children
to come with them to the laboratory, where they were given written mathemat-
ics tests that included the same numbers and mathematical operations that they
had manipulated successfully in the streets. For example, if a child had correctly
calculated the total cost of 5 lemons at 35 cruzeiros apiece on the street, the
child was given the following written problem:
5 3 35 5 ?
Whereas children correctly solved 98% of the problems presented in the real-
world context, they solved only 37% of the problems presented in the labora-
tory context. It should be stressed that these problems included the exact same
numbers and mathematical operations. Interestingly, if the problems were
stated in the form of word problems in the laboratory, performance improved
to 74%. This improvement runs counter to the usual finding, which is that word
problems are more difficult than equivalent “number” problems (Carpenter &
Moser, 1982). Apparently, the additional context provided by the word problem
allowed the Brazilian children to make contact with their pragmatic strategies.
The study of Carraher et al. showed a curious failure of expertise to
transfer from the real world to the classroom, but the typical concern of
educators is whether what is taught in one class will transfer to other classes
and the real world. Early in the 20th century, when educators were fairly
optimistic on this matter, a number of educational psychologists subscribed
to what has been called the doctrine of formal discipline (Angell, 1908;
Pillsbury, 1908; Woodrow, 1927). This doctrine held that studying such
esoteric subjects as Latin and geometry was of significant value because
it served to discipline the mind. Those who believed in formal discipline
subscribed to the faculty view of mind, which extends back to Aristotle and
was first formalized by Thomas Reid in the late 18th century (Boring, 1950).
The faculty view held that the mind is composed of a collection of general
faculties, such as observation, attention, discrimination, and reasoning, which
could be exercised in much the same way as a set of muscles. The content of
Anderson_8e_Ch09.indd 229 13/09/14 9:57 AM
230 / Chapter 9 e x P e R T I S e
the exercise made little difference; most important was
the level of exertion (hence the fondness for Latin and
geometry). Transfer in such a view is broad and takes
place at a general level, sometimes spanning domains
that have no content in common.
There has been a recent spate of research
investigating whether deliberate working-memory
practice would provide a basis for training mental
abilities, achieving what proponents of the doctrine of
formal discipline thought geometry and Latin would
do. This research views the brain as a muscle that can
be trained by exercise. For instance, Jaeggi, Buschkuehl,
Jonides, and Perrig (2008) published a report on the
effectiveness of the “dual n-back” training program. In
a typical single n-back task participants have to see or
hear a long series of stimuli and have to say whether
the current stimulus is the same as the one that occurred n items back. For
example, in a 2-back task with letters participants might see
T L H C H OC O R R K C K M
and would respond yes to the three cases in italics. In Jaeggi et al. (2008),
dual n-back task participants had the very demanding task of simultaneously
tracking a sequence of letters presented auditorily and the locations of squares
presented visually. The experimenters varied n (the length of the gap partici-
pants had to monitor) from 1 to 4, raising it as participants got better. This is
a very demanding task. To see the effect of practicing this task, Jaeggi et al.
had participants take the Raven’s Progressive Matrices test, a general test of
intelligence. Figure 9.18 shows how participants improved on the Raven’s test as
a function of how many days they had practiced the dual n-back tasks. It seems
like working-memory practice can raise general intelligence.
Results like this led to a glowing article in the New York Times Magazine
titled “Can You Make Yourself Smarter?” Numerous commercial compa-
nies have sprung up (e.g., Brain Age, BrainTwister, Cogmed, JungleMemory,
Lumosity), marketing cognitive training programs to individuals and schools.
However, a more careful investigation by cognitive scientists has led to ques-
tions, and just one year later the New Yorker published an article titled “Brain
Games are Bogus.” The early studies showing positive results had small sample
sizes, and more adequately powered studies (Chooi & Thompson, 2012; Redick
et al., 2013) have often failed to find positive results. Probably the best con-
clusion is captured in the article by Shipstead, Hicks, and Engle (2012) titled
“Working Memory Training Remains a Work in Progress.”
There appears to be a similar state of uncertainty about whether playing
video games can improve general cognitive abilities. Given the general public
perception that video-game playing is harmful, it was surprising when studies
began to come out showing a benefit of these games. In a review of this
research, Bavelier, Green, Pouget, and Schrater (2012) emphasize the benefits
of action video games, which include some of the more violent games such
as the “Call of Duty” series. Most of the benefits seem confined to measures
of vision and attention. This seems a plausible sort of transfer because these
games often require monitoring rapidly changing visual displays. Among the
benefits shown for players of action video games were greater visual acuity
than nonplayers and the ability to track more objects in a random moving
display of objects. Recently, however, many of the existing studies have been
criticized (Boot, Blakely, & Simons, 2011) because they compare video-
game players with non–video-game players, and different sorts of people
1917128
0
1
2
3
4
5
6
Tr
ai
ni
ng
g
ai
n
in
in
te
llig
en
ce
Training time between pretest and posttest (days)
FIGURE 9.18 Improvement on
the Raven’s Progressive Matrices
test as a function of practice
on the dual n-back task. (From
Jaeggi, S. M., Buschkuehl,
M., Jonides, J., & Perrig, W. J.
(2008). Improving fluid intelligence
with training on working memory.
Proceedings of the National
academy of Sciences, 105(19),
6829–6833. Copyright © 2008
National Academy of Sciences.
Reprinted by permission.)
Anderson_8e_Ch09.indd 230 13/09/14 9:57 AM
T H e o R y o F I D e N T I C a l e l e M e N T S / 231
may choose to play action video games. The problem with such studies is
that people with better visual and attentional skills may choose to play these
games. However, there have been studies comparing training novices on
action video games versus training them on some other game, like Tetris
(e.g. Green & Bavelier, 2006). Many of these studies find positive effects
of training on action video games, but there also have been negative results
(van Ravenzwaaij, Boekel, Forstmann, Ratcliff, & Wagenmakers, 2013).
Interestingly, a recent large-scale study of the effects of violent video games
on youth failed to find any positive cognitive effects or negative social effects
(Ferguson, Garza, Jerabeck, Ramos, & Galindo, 2013).
■ There is often failure to transfer skills to similar domains and vir-
tually no transfer to very different domains.
◆ Theory of Identical Elements
A century ago Edward Thorndike criticized this doctrine of formal discipline,
which holds that the mind can be trained like a muscle. Instead, he proposed
his theory of identical elements. According to Thorndike, the mind is not
composed of general faculties, but rather of specific habits and associations,
which provide a person with a variety of narrow responses to very specific stim-
uli. In fact, during Thorndike’s time, the mind was regarded as just a convenient
name for countless special operations or functions (Stratton, 1922). Thorndike’s
theory stated that training in one kind of activity would transfer to another only
if the activities had situation-response elements in common:
One mental function or activity improves others in so far as and be-
cause they are in part identical with it, because it contains elements
common to them. Addition improves multiplication because multi-
plication is largely addition; knowledge of Latin gives increased ability
to learn French because many of the facts learned in the one case are
needed in the other. (Thorndike, 1906, p. 243)
Thus, Thorndike was happy to accept transfer between diverse skills as long
as the transfer was mediated by identical elements. Generally, however, he
concluded that
The mind is so specialized into a multitude of independent capacities
that we alter human nature only in small spots, and any special school
training has a much narrower influence upon the mind as a whole
than has commonly been supposed. (p. 246)
Although the doctrine of formal discipline was too broad in its predic-
tions of transfer, Thorndike formulated his theory of identical elements in
what proved to be an overly narrow manner. For instance, he argued that if you
solved a geometry problem in which one set of letters is used to label the points
in a diagram, you would not be able to transfer to a geometry problem with a
different set of letters. The research on analogy examined in Chapter 8 indi-
cated that this is not true. Transfer is not tied to the identity of surface elements.
In some cases, there is very large positive transfer between two skills that have
the same logical structure even if they have different surface elements (see
Singley & Anderson, 1989, for a review). Thus, for instance, there is large posi-
tive transfer between different word-processing systems, between different pro-
gramming languages, and between using calculus to solve economics problems
and using calculus to solve problems in solid geometry. Singley and Anderson
argued that there are definite bounds on how far skills will transfer and that
Anderson_8e_Ch09.indd 231 13/09/14 9:57 AM
232 / Chapter 9 e x P e R T I S e
becoming an expert in one domain will have little positive benefit on becoming
an expert in a very different domain. There will be positive transfer only to the
extent that the two domains use the same facts, rules, and patterns—that is, the
same knowledge.
There is a positive side to this specificity in the transfer of skill: there
seldom seems to be negative transfer, in which learning one skill makes a
person worse at learning another skill. Interference, such as that which occurs
in memory for facts (see Chapter 7), is almost nonexistent in skill acquisition.
Polson, Muncher, and Kieras (1987) provided a good demonstration of lack
of negative transfer in the domain of text editing on a computer (using the
command-based word processors that were common at the time). They
asked participants to learn one text editor and then learn a second, which was
designed to be maximally confusing with the first. Whereas the command
to go down a line of text might be n and the command to delete a character
might be k in one text editor, n would mean to delete a character in another text
editor and k would mean to go down a line. However, participants experienced
overwhelming positive transfer in going from one text editor to the other
because the two text editors worked in the same way, even though the surface
commands had been scrambled. There is only one clearly documented kind of
negative transfer in regard to cognitive skills—the Einstellung effect discussed
in Chapter 8. Students can learn ways of solving problems in one domain that
are no longer optimal for solving problems in another domain. So, for instance,
someone may learn tricks in algebra to avoid having to perform difficult
arithmetic computations. These tricks may no longer be necessary when that
person uses a calculator to perform these computations. Still, students show a
tendency to continue to perform these unnecessary simplifications in their
algebraic manipulations. This example is not a case of failure to transfer; rather,
it is a case of transferring knowledge that is no longer useful.
■ There is transfer between skills only when these skills have the same
abstract knowledge elements.
◆ Educational Implications
With this analysis of skill acquisition, we can ask the question: What are the
implications for the training of cognitive skills? One implication is the impor-
tance of problem decomposition. Traditional high-school algebra has been es-
timated to require the acquisition of many thousands of rules (J. R. Anderson,
1992). Instruction can be improved by an analysis of what these individual el-
ements are. Approaches to instruction that begin with an analysis of the ele-
ments to be taught are called componential analyses. A description of the ap-
plication of componential approaches to the instruction of a number of topics
in reading and mathematics can be found in J. R. Anderson (2000). Generally,
higher achievement is obtained in programs that include such componential
analysis.
A particularly effective part of such componential programs is mastery
learning. The basic idea in mastery learning is to follow students’ performance
on each of the components underlying the cognitive skill and to ensure that all
components are mastered. Typical instruction, without mastery learning, leaves
some students not knowing some of the material. This failure to learn some of
the components can snowball in a course in which mastery of earlier material is
a prerequisite for mastery of later material. There is a good deal of evidence that
mastery learning leads to higher achievement (Guskey & Gates, 1986; Kulik,
Kulik, & Bangert-Downs, 1986).
Anderson_8e_Ch09.indd 232 13/09/14 9:57 AM
e D U C aT I o N a l I M P l I C aT I o N S / 233
■ Instruction is improved by approaches that identify the underlying
knowledge components and ensure that students master them all.
Intelligent Tutoring Systems
Probably the most extensive use of such componential analysis is for intelligent
tutoring systems (Sleeman & Brown, 1982). These computer systems inter-
act with students while they are learning and solving problems, much as a hu-
man tutor would. An example of such a tutor is the LISP tutor (J. R. Anderson,
Conrad, & Corbett, 1989; J. R. Anderson & Reiser, 1985; Corbett & Anderson,
1990), which teaches LISP, the main programming language used in artificial
intelligence in the 1980s and 1990s. The LISP tutor continuously taught LISP
to students at Carnegie Mellon University from 1984 to 2002 and served as a
prototype for a generation of intelligent tutors, many of which have focused on
teaching middle-school and high-school mathematics. The mathematics tutors
are now distributed by a company called Carnegie Learning, spun off by Car-
negie Mellon University in 1998. The Carnegie Learning mathematics tutors
have been deployed to about 3,000 schools nationwide and have interacted with
over 600,000 students each year (Koedinger & Corbett, 2006; Ritter, Anderson,
Koedinger, & Corbett, 2007; you can visit the Web site www.carnegielearning
.com for promotional material that should be taken with a grain of salt).
Color Plate 9.1 shows a screen shot from its most widely used product, which
is a tutor for high-school algebra. A large-scale study conducted by the Rand
Corporation (Pane, Griffin, McCaffrey, & Karam, 2013) indicates that the tutor
does provide real, if modest, gains for high-school students.
A motivation for research on intelligent tutoring is the evidence showing
that private human tutoring is very effective. The results of studies have shown
that giving students a private human tutor enables 98% of them to do better
than the average student in a standard classroom (Bloom, 1984). An ideal pri-
vate tutor is one who is with the student at all times while he or she is studying
a particular subject matter. To use the terms of Ericsson et al. (1993), a private
tutor guarantees the deliberate practice that is essential for learning. Having the
tutor present while solving problems in domains, such as LISP and mathemat-
ics, which require complex problem-solving skills, is particularly important. In
LISP, problem solving takes the form of writing computer programs, or func-
tions, as they are often called in LISP. Therefore, in developing the LISP tutor,
we chose to focus on providing students with tutoring while they were writ-
ing computer programs. Table 9.3 presents a short dialogue between a student
and the LISP tutor on an early problem in the curriculum. Note how carefully
the tutor monitors the student’s performance in solving the problem. It can do
so because it knows how to write LISP functions. As the student is writing the
function, the tutor is simultaneously trying to solve the same problem that the
student is working on. As soon as it sees the student making a mistake, the tu-
tor can intervene with remedial instruction.
Underlying the tutor’s ability to solve problems and monitor the student’s
problem solving is a set of rules that can solve the same LISP programming
problems that we expect students to be able to solve. In all, there are about 500
rules that encode the knowledge relating to LISP. A typical rule in the LISP
tutor is:
If the goal is to multiply one number by another,
Then use * and set subgoals to code the two numbers.
The basic goal of the LISP tutor is to communicate these 500 rules to the
student, monitor performance to see whether he or she possesses these rules in
Anderson_8e_Ch09.indd 233 13/09/14 9:57 AM
http://www.carnegielearning
234 / Chapter 9 e x P e R T I S e
correct form, and provide the student with practice on these rules. The success
of the LISP tutor is one piece of evidence that these 500 rules indeed underlie
coding skill in LISP.
Besides providing an instructional tool, the LISP tutor is a research tool for
studying the course of skill acquisition. The tutor can monitor how well a student is
doing on each of the 500 rules, recording statistics such as the number of errors that
a student is making and the time taken by a student to type the code corresponding
to each of these rules. These data have indicated that students acquire the skill of
LISP by independently acquiring each of the 500 rules. Figure 9.19 displays the
learning curves for these rules. The two dependent measures are the number
of errors made on a rule and the time taken to write the code corresponding to a
rule (when that rule is correctly coded). These statistics are plotted as a function of
learning opportunities, which present themselves each time the student comes to
a point in a problem where that rule can be applied. As can be seen, performance
on these rules dramatically improves from first to second learning opportunity
and improves more gradually thereafter. These learning curves are similar to those
identified in Chapter 6 for the learning of simple associations.
There were substantial differences in the speed with which different stu-
dents learned the material. Students who have already learned a program-
ming language are at a considerable advantage compared with students for
whom their first programming language is that of the LISP tutor. The “identical
elements model” of transfer, in which rules for programming in one language
transfer to programming in another language, can account for this advantage.
We also analyzed the performance of individual students in the LISP tutor and
found evidence for two factors underlying individual differences. Some students
The student is working on a piece of code to satisfy the following problem description.
Before each point at which the tutor and student interact, the partial code that the
student has written is printed out.
The Problem Description
Define a function called ctof that takes a degree reading in Celsius degrees and
converts it to Fahrenheit degrees. First, you need to change the scale by multiplying
the argument by 1.8. Then you need to translate the scale by adding 32, because
0º Celsius = 32º Fahrenheit. For example, (ctof 20) returns 68.
Cycles in Which the Tutor Communicates with the Student
Code: (defun ctof (cdeg) (*
Tutor: yes, you will need to call “*” to get the degree on the enlarged scale, but you
are ultimately trying to get the Fahrenheit equivalent of the Celsius degree. So you
need to code a different function here that takes a call to “*” as an argument.
Code: (defun ctof (cdeg) (+
Student: Help.
Tutor: you need to multiply together the Celsius degree reading and the size of
Fahrenheit degrees using the function *. When you multiply these numbers, you will
get the degree on the enlarged scale, which is 36 in our example.
Code: (defun ctof (cdeg) (+ (* 1.8 cdge)
Tutor: Did you mean cdeg?
Student: yes.
Code: (defun ctof (cdeg) (+ (* 1.8 cdeg) 32))
Tutor: You are done. Type “next” to go on after testing the function you have defined.
TABLE 9.3 an Interaction Between the lISP Tutor and a Student
Anderson_8e_Ch09.indd 234 13/09/14 9:57 AM
C o N C l U S I o N S / 235
1
Opportunities(a)
Nu
m
be
r o
f e
rro
rs
.20
.50
1.00
2 3−4 5−8
(b)
Co
di
ng
ti
m
e
(s
)
1
5
10
20
Opportunities
2 3−4 5−8
FIGURE 9.19 Data from the lISP tutor: (a) number of errors (maximum is three) per rule
as a function of the number of opportunities for practice; (b) time to correctly code
rules as a function of the amount of practice.
were able to learn new rules in a lesson quite rapidly, whereas other students had
more difficulty. More or less independent of this acquisition factor, students could
be classified according to how well they retained rules from earlier lessons.3 Thus,
students differ in how rapidly they learn with the LISP tutor. However, the tutor
employs a mastery learning system in which slower students are given more prac-
tice and so are brought to the same level of mastery achieved by other students.
Students emerge from their interactions with the LISP tutor having acquired
a complex and sophisticated skill. Their enhanced programming abilities make
them appear more intelligent among their peers. However, when we examine
what underlies that newfound intelligence, we find that it is the methodical ac-
quisition of some 500 rules of programming. Some students can acquire these
rules more easily than others because of past experience and specific abilities.
However, when they graduate from the LISP course, all students have learned
the 500 new rules. With the acquisition of these rules, few differences remain
among the students with respect to ability to program in LISP. Thus, we see that,
in the end, what is important with respect to individual differences is how much
information students have previously learned, and not their native ability.
■ By carefully monitoring individual components of a skill and pro-
viding feedback on learning, intelligent tutors can help students rap-
idly master complex skills.
◆ Conclusions
This chapter began by noting the remarkable ability of humans to acquire the
complexities of culture and technology. In fact, in today’s world people can expect
to acquire a whole new set of skills over their lifetimes. For instance, I now use
my phone for instant messaging, GPS navigation, and surfing the Web—none of
which I imagined when I was a young man, let alone associated with a phone.
This chapter has emphasized the role of practice in acquiring such skills, and
certainly it has taken me some considerable practice to master these new skills.
However, human flexibility depends on more than time on task—other creatures
could never acquire such skills no matter how much they practiced. Critical to
3 These acquisition and retention factors were strongly related to math SAT®s, but not to verbal SAT®s.
Anderson_8e_Ch09.indd 235 13/09/14 9:57 AM
236 / Chapter 9 e x P e R T I S e
Key Terms
associative stage
autonomous stage
cognitive stage
componential analysis
deliberate practice
intelligent tutoring
systems
mastery learning
negative transfer
proceduralization
strategic learning
tactical learning
theory of identical
elements
Questions for Thought
1. An interesting case study of skill acquisition was
reported by Ohlsson (1992), who looked at the de-
velopment of Isaac Asimov’s writing skill. Asimov
was one of the most prolific authors of our time,
writing approximately 500 books in a career that
spanned 40 years. He sat down at his keyboard
every day at 7:30 a.m. and wrote until 10:00 p.m.
Figure 9.20 shows the average number of months
he took to write a book as a function of practice
on a log–log scale. It corresponds closely to a
power function. At what stage of skill acquisition
do you think Asimov was at the end of his career
in terms of his writing skills?
2. The chapter discussed how chess experts have
learned to recognize appropriate moves just by
looking at the chessboard. It has been argued
(Charness, 1981; Holding, 1992; Roring, 2008)
that experts also learn to engage in more search
and more effective search for winning moves.
Relate these two kinds of learning (learning
specific moves and learning how to search) to the
concepts of tactical and strategic learning.
3. In a 2006 New York Times article, Stephen J.
Dubner and Steven D. Levitt (of “Freakonomics”
fame) noted that elite soccer players are much
more likely to be born in the early months of the
year than the late months. Anders Ericsson argues
they have an advantage in youth soccer leagues,
which organize teams by birth year. Because they
are older and tend to be bigger than other children
of the same birth year, they are more likely to get
selected for elite teams and receive the benefit of
deliberate practice. Can you think of any other
explanations for the fact that elite soccer players
tend to be born in the first months of the year?
4. One reads frequent complaints about the perfor-
mance level of American students in studies of
mathematics achievement, where they are greatly
outperformed by children from other countries
like Japan. Frequently proposed remedies point to
changing the nature of the mathematics curriculum
or improving teacher quality. Seldom mentioned
is the fact that American children actually spend
much less time learning mathematics (see J. R.
Anderson, Reder, & Simon, 1998).What does this
chapter imply about the importance of instruction
versus amount of learning time? Can improve-
ments in one of these increase American achieve-
ment levels without improvements in the other?
5. In a recent paper Niels Taatgen (2013) has argued
that the transfer we see from working-memory
training such as dual n-back task (see Figure 9.18)
might be explained in terms of transfer of identical
elements rather than training of a mental muscle.
What might the identical elements be that are
shared between performing the dual n-back task
and solving a Raven’s puzzle like the bottom one in
Figure 8.6?
100
0.50
2.50
1.00
200
Number of books (log scale)
M
on
th
s t
o
co
m
pl
et
e
a
bo
ok
(l
og
sc
ale
)
300 500
FIGURE 9.20 Time to complete a book as a function of
practice, plotted with logarithmic coordinates on both axes.
(From Ohlsson, S. (1992). The learning curve for writing books:
Evidence from Professor Asimov. Psychological Science, 3,
380–382. Copyright © 1992 Sage. Reprinted by permission.)
human expertise are the higher order problem-solving skills that we reviewed in
the previous chapter. Also critical is human ability to reason, make decisions, and
communicate by language. These are the topics of the forthcoming chapters.
Anderson_8e_Ch09.indd 236 13/09/14 9:57 AM
237
10
Reasoning
As noted in Chapter 1, superior intelligence is thought to be the feature that
distinguishes humans as a species. In the last two chapters, we examined
the enormous capacity that we enjoy as a species to solve problems and acquire
new intellectual skills. In light of this particular capacity, we might expect that the
research on human reasoning (the topic of this chapter) and decision making
(the topic of the next chapter) would document how we achieve our superior
intellectual performance. Historically, however, most psychological research on
reasoning and decision making has started with prescriptions derived from logic
and mathematics about how humans should behave, has then compared these
prescriptions to what humans actually do, and has found humans deficient
compared to these standards.
The opposite conclusion seems to come from older research in artificial
intelligence (AI), where researchers tried to create artificial systems for reasoning
and decision making using the same prescriptions from logic and mathematics. For
instance, Shortliffe (1976) created an expert computer-based system for diagnosing
infectious diseases. Similar formal reasoning mechanisms were used in the first
generation of robots to help them reason about how to navigate through the world.
Researchers were very frustrated with such systems, noting that they lacked com-
mon sense and would do the stupidest things that no human would do. Faced
with such frustrations, researchers are now creating systems based on less logical
computations, often emulating how neurons in the brain compute (e.g., Russell &
Norvig, 2009).
Thus, we have a paradox: Human reasoning is judged as deficient when
compared against the standards of logic and mathematics, but AI systems built
on these very standards are judged as deficient when compared against humans.
This apparent contradiction might lead one to conclude either that logic and math-
ematics are wrong or that humans have some mysterious intuition that guides
their thinking. However, the real problem seems to be with the way the principles
of logic and mathematics have been applied, not with the principles themselves.
New research is showing that the situations faced by people are more complex
than often assumed. We can better understand human behavior when we expand
our analyses of human reasoning to include the complexities. In this chapter and
the next, we will review a number of the models used to predict how people ar-
rive at conclusions when presented with certain evidence, research on how people
deviated from these models, followed by the newer and richer analyses of human
reasoning.
This chapter will address the following questions about the way people reason:
● How do people reason about situations described in conditional language (e.g.,
“if–then”)?
Anderson_8e_Ch10.indd 237 13/09/14 9:57 AM
238 / Chapter 10 R e A S o N I N g
● How do people reason about situations described with quantifiers like all, some,
and none?
● How do people reason from specific examples and pieces of evidence to
general conclusions?
◆ Reasoning and the Brain
There has been some research investigating brain areas involved in reasoning,
and it suggests that people can bring different systems to bear on different
reasoning problems. Consider an fMRI experiment by Goel, Buchel, Frith,
and Dolan (2000). They had participants solve logical syllogisms, arguments
consisting of two premises and a conclusion. Participants were presented with
congruent problems such as
All poodles are pets.
All pets have names.
∴ All poodles have names.
Most of the participants (84%) correctly judged that the third statement logi-
cally followed from the first two. The content of this example is more or less
consistent with what people believe about pets and poodles. Goel et al. con-
trasted this type of problem with incongruent problems whose premises and
conclusions violated standard beliefs such as
All pets are poodles.
All poodles are vicious.
∴ All pets are vicious.
Fewer participants (74%) judged that the third statement was true if the first
two were. Finally, Goel et al. contrasted both of these types with reasoning
about abstract concepts, such as
All P are B.
All B are C.
∴ All P are C.
77% of the participants judged this as correct. Logicians would call all three
kinds of syllogism valid.
The reader might wonder about the sensibility of judging a participant
as making a mistake in rejecting an incongruent conclusion such as “All pets
are vicious”; we will return to this matter in the second section of the chapter.
For now, of greater interest are the brain regions that were active when par-
ticipants were judging material with content (like the first two syllogisms) and
when they were judging material without content (like the last syllogism); these
areas are illustrated in Figure 10.1. When participants were judging content-free
material, parietal regions that have been found to have roles in solving algebraic
equations were active (see Chapter 1, Figure 1.16b). When they were judging
meaningful content, left prefrontal and temporal-parietal areas that are asso-
ciated with language processing were active (see Chapter 4, Figure 4.1). This
indicates that people do not process all syllogisms in the same way but invoke
different brain regions when the syllogisms are based on content than when
they are content-free.
■ Faced with logical problems, people can engage either brain regions
associated with the processing of meaningful content or regions
associated with the processing of more abstract information.
Anderson_8e_Ch10.indd 238 13/09/14 9:57 AM
R e A S o N I N g A b o u T C o N d I T I o N A l S / 239
◆ Reasoning About Conditionals
The first body of research we will cover looks at deductive reasoning, which
is concerned with conclusions that follow with certainty from the premises. It is
distinguished from inductive reasoning, which is concerned with conclusions
that probabilistically follow from the premises. To illustrate the distinction,
suppose someone is told, “Fred is the brother of Mary,” and “Mary is the mother
of Lisa.” Then, one might conclude that “Fred is the uncle of Lisa” and that
“Fred is older than Lisa.” The first conclusion, “Fred is the uncle of Lisa,” would
be a correct deductive inference given the definition of familial relationships.
On the other hand, the second conclusion, “Fred is older than Lisa,” is a good
inductive inference, because it is probably true, but not a correct deductive
inference, because it is not necessarily true.
Our first topic will concern human deductive reasoning using the condi-
tional connective if. A conditional statement is an assertion, such as “If you
read this chapter, then you will be wiser.” The if part (if you read this chapter)
is called the antecedent, and the then part (then you will be wiser) is called the
consequent. Table 10.1 lays out the structure of conditional statements and var-
ious valid and invalid rules of inference.
A particularly central rule of inference in the logic of the conditional is
known as modus ponens (which loosely translates from Latin as “method
for affirming”). It allows us to infer the consequent of a conditional if we are
given the antecedent. Thus, given both the proposition If A, then B and the
proposition A, we can infer B. So, suppose we are told the following premises
and conclusion:
Modus Ponens
If Joan understands this book, then she will get a good grade.
Joan understands this book.
Therefore, Joan will get a good grade.
This example is an instance of valid deduction. By valid, we mean that,
if the first two premises are true, then the final conclusion must be true.
Posterior parietal:
Reasoning about
content-free material
Ventral prefrontal:
Reasoning about
meaningful content
Parietal-temporal:
Reasoning about
meaningful content
Brain Structures FIGURE 10.1 Comparison of
brain regions activated when
people reason about problems
with meaningful content versus
when they reason about material
without content.
Anderson_8e_Ch10.indd 239 13/09/14 9:57 AM
240 / Chapter 10 R e A S o N I N g
This example also illustrates the artificiality of applying logic to real-world
situations. How is one to really know whether Joan understands the book?
One can only assign a certain probability to her understanding. Even if Joan
does understand the book, at best it is only likely—not certain—that she will
get a good grade. However, participants are asked to suspend their knowledge
about such matters and treat these statements as if they were certainly true. Or,
more precisely, they are asked to reason what would follow for certain if these
statements were true. Participants do not find these instructions particularly
strange, but, as we will see, they are not always able to make logically correct
inferences.
Another rule of inference is known in logic as modus tollens (which
loosely translates as “method of denying”). This rule states that, if we are given
both the proposition If A, then B and the proposition B is false, then we can
infer A is false. The following inference exercise requires modus tollens:
Modus Tollens
If Joan understands this book, then she will get a good grade.
Joan will not get a good grade.
Therefore, Joan does not understand this book.
This conclusion might strike the reader as less than totally compelling because,
again, in the real world such statements are not typically treated as certain.
■ Modus ponens allows us to infer the consequent from the
antecedent; modus tollens allows us to infer the antecedent is false if
the consequent is false.
Evaluation of Conditional Arguments
There are two other inference patterns that people sometimes accept but which
are invalid. One is called affirmation of the consequent and is illustrated by
the following incorrect pattern of reasoning.
Fallacy: Affirmation of the Consequent
If Joan understands this book, then she will get a good grade.
Joan will get a good grade.
Therefore, Joan understands this book.
A conditional statement:
The antecedent The consequent
(A)
If you read this chapter,
(B)
then you will be wiser.
Name of Rule Inference Made
Valid deductions Modus ponens given A is true, infer b is true.
Modus tollens given b is false, infer A is false.
Invalid deductions Affirmation of the consequent given b is true, infer A is true.
Denial of the antecedent given A is false, infer b is false.
TABLE 10.1 Analysis of a Conditional Statement and Various Valid and Invalid Rules of
Inference
Anderson_8e_Ch10.indd 240 13/09/14 9:57 AM
R e A S o N I N g A b o u T C o N d I T I o N A l S / 241
The other incorrect pattern is called denial of the antecedent and is illustrated
by the following pattern of reasoning.
Fallacy: Denial of the Antecedent
If Joan understands this book, then she will get a good grade.
Joan does not understand this book.
Therefore, Joan will not get a grade.
In both of these cases, the inference is invalid because there might be other
ways in which Joan could get a good grade, such as doing a great term project.
Evans (1993) reviewed a large number of studies that compared the frequency
with which people accept the valid modus ponens and modus tollens inferences
as well as the frequency with which they accept the invalid inferences. The
average percent acceptance over these studies is plotted in Figure 10.2. As can
be seen, people rarely fail to accept a modus ponens inference, but the frequency
with which they accept the valid modus tollens is only slightly greater than the
frequencies with which they accept the invalid inferences.
■ People are only able to show high levels of logical reasoning with
modus ponens.
Evaluating Conditional Arguments in a Larger Context
Byrne (1989) performed an interesting variation of the typical conditional rea-
soning study that illustrates that human reasoning is sensitive to things that are
ignored in a simple classification like that shown in Table 10.1. In one condi-
tion, she presented her participants with syllogisms like these:
If she has an essay to write, she will study late in the library.
(If she has textbooks to read, she will study late in the library.)
She will study late in the library.
Therefore, she has an essay to write.
One group of participants did not see the premise in parentheses, whereas the
other group of participants did. Without the additional premise, her participants
Modus tollensModus ponens
Pe
rc
en
t a
cc
ep
ta
nc
e
Affirmation of
the consequent
Denial of the
antecedent
20%
0%
40%
60%
80%
100%
Invalid inferences
Valid inferences
FIGURE 10.2 Frequency with which various conditional syllogisms are accepted—data
from evans (1993).
Anderson_8e_Ch10.indd 241 13/09/14 9:57 AM
242 / Chapter 10 R e A S o N I N g
accepted the conclusion 71% of the time, committing the fallacy of affirmation
of the consequent. On the other hand, given the parenthetical premise in ad-
dition to the other premises, their acceptance of the conclusion went down to
13%. So we see people can be much more accurate in their reasoning if the ma-
terial engages them to have a richer interpretation of the situation.
These results of Byrne are even more interesting when compared with
another situation in which she used examples like the following:
If she has an essay to write, she will study late in the library.
(If the library stays open, then she will study in the library.)
She has an essay to write.
Therefore, she will study late in the library.
Without the additional statement in parentheses, participants accepted the modus
ponens inference 96% of the time. However, with the additional statement, their
acceptance rate went down to 38%. In a narrow, logical sense, the participants
are making an error in not accepting the conclusion with the additional premise.
However, in the world outside of the laboratory, they would be viewed as mak-
ing the right judgment—how could she actually study in the library if it were not
open? AI researchers would be frustrated if their programs still made the same
conclusion with this additional premise. People have a rich understanding of the
real world, and this understanding can intrude and cause them to make errors in
these studies where they are told to reason by the strict rules of logic. However, it
can lead them to make the right decisions in the real world.
■ When people’s ability to reason about real-world situations in-
trudes into logical reasoning tasks, it can result in better or worse
performance.
The Wason Selection Task
A series of experiments initially begun by Peter Wason (for a review of the early
research, see Evans & Over, 2004) have been taken as a striking demonstration
of human inability to reason correctly. In a typical experiment in this research,
four cards showing the following symbols were placed in front of participants:
E K 4 7
Participants were told that a letter appeared on one side of each card and a
number on the other. Their task was to judge the validity of the following rule,
which referred only to these four cards:
If a card has a vowel on one side, then it has an even number on the
other side.
The participants’ task was to turn over only those cards that had to be turned
over for the correctness of the rule to be judged. This task, typically referred to
as the selection task, has received a great deal of research.
Averaging over a large number of experiments (Oaksford & Chater, 1994),
about 90% of the participants have been found to select E, which is a logically
correct choice because an odd number on the other side would disconfirm the
rule. However, about 60% of the participants also choose to turn over the 4,
which is not logically informative because neither a vowel nor a consonant on
the other side would have falsified the rule. Only 25% elect to turn over the 7,
which is a logically informative choice because a vowel behind the 7 would have
falsified the rule. Only about 15% elect to turn over the K, which would not be
an informative choice.
Wason Selection Task
Anderson_8e_Ch10.indd 242 13/09/14 9:57 AM
R e A S o N I N g A b o u T C o N d I T I o N A l S / 243
Thus, participants display two types of logical errors in the task. First, they
often turn over the 4, an example of the fallacy of affirming the consequent.
Even more striking is the failure to apply the rule of modus tollens—that
is, the 7 makes the consequent of the rule false, so they should turn over the
card to verify that the other side is a consonant (and not a vowel), making the
antecedent also false.
The number of people that make the right combination of choices, turning
over only the E and the 7, is often only about 10%, which has been taken as
a damning indictment of human reasoning. Early in the history of research
on the selection task, Wason gave a talk at the IBM Research Center in which
he presented this same problem to an audience filled with PhDs, many in
mathematics and physics. He got the same poor results from this audience,
who reportedly were so embarrassed that they harassed Wason with complaints
about how the problem was not accurately presented or the correct answer was
not really correct. This question of what the right answer is has been recently
explored, but before considering that research, we will see what happens when
one puts content into these problems.
■ When presented with neutral material in the Wason selection task,
people have particular difficulty in recognizing the importance of ex-
ploring if the consequent is false.
Permission Interpretation of the Conditional
A person’s performance can sometimes be greatly enhanced when the material
to be judged has meaningful content. Griggs and Cox (1982) were among the
first to demonstrate this enhancement in a paradigm that is formally equivalent
to the Wason card-selection task. Participants were instructed to imagine that
they were police officers responsible for ensuring that the following regulation
was being followed: If a person is drinking beer, then the person must be over 19.
They were presented with four cards that represented people sitting around a
table. On one side of each card was the age of the person and on the other side
was the substance that the person was drinking. The cards were labeled “Drink-
ing beer,” “Drinking Coke,” “16 years of age,” and “22 years of age.” The task
was to select those people (cards to turn over) from whom further information
was needed to determine whether the drinking law was being violated. In this
situation, 74% of the participants selected the logically correct cards (namely,
“Drinking beer” and “16 years of age”).1
It has been argued that the better performance in this task depends on the
fact that the conditional statement is being interpreted as a rule about a so-
cial norm called the permission schema. Society has many rules about how
its members should conduct themselves, and the argument is that people are
good at applying such social rules (Cheng & Holyoak, 1985). An alternate pos-
sibility is that better performance in this task depends not on the permission
semantics but on the greater familiarity of the participants with the rule. The
participants were Florida undergraduates, and this rule about drinking was in
force in Florida at the time. Would the participants have been able to reason as
accurately about a similar but unfamiliar law? To answer this question, Cheng
and Holyoak (1985) performed the following experiment. One group of par-
ticipants was asked to evaluate the following apparently senseless rule against
a set of instances: “If the form says ‘entering’ on one side, then the other side
1 Interestingly, patients with damage to the ventromedial prefrontal cortex do not show this advantage
with content (Adolphs, Tranel, Bechara, Damasio, & Damasio, 1996). We will discuss this patient
population more thoroughly in the next chapter.
Anderson_8e_Ch10.indd 243 13/09/14 9:57 AM
244 / Chapter 10 R e A S o N I N g
includes cholera among the list of diseases.” Another group was given the same
rule as well as the rationale that to satisfy immigration officials upon entering
a particular country, one must have been vaccinated for cholera. This ration-
ale should invoke people’s ability to reason about the permission schema. The
forms indicated on one side whether the passenger was entering the country
or in transit, whereas the other side listed the names of diseases for which he
or she was vaccinated. Participants were presented with four forms that said
“Transit,” “Entering,” “cholera, typhoid, hepatitis,” and “typhoid, hepatitis.” The
performance of the group given the rationale was much better than that of the
group given just the rule without any explanation; that is, the former group
knew to check the other side of the “Entering” form and the “typhoid, hepatitis”
form. Because the participants were not familiar with the rule, their good per-
formance apparently depended on evoking the concept of permission and not
on practice in applying the specific rule.
Cosmides (1989) and Gigerenzer and Hug (1992) argued that our good
performance with such rules (which they call social contract rules) depends on
our skill at detecting cheaters. Gigerenzer and Hug had participants evaluate
the following rule:
If a student is assigned to Grover High School, then that student must
live in Grover City.
They saw cards that stated whether the students attended Grover High School
or not on one side and whether they lived in Grover City or not on the other
side. As in the original Wason experiment, they had to decide which cards to
turn over. In the cheating condition, participants were asked to take the per-
spective of a member of the Grover City School Board looking for students who
were illegally attending the high school. In the noncheating condition, partici-
pants were asked to take the perspective of a visiting official from the German
government who just wants to find out whether this rule is in effect at Grover
High School. Gigerenzer and Hug were interested in the frequency with which
participants would choose just the two logically correct cards to turn over: the
card saying the student is going to Grover High School and the card saying the
student is a nonresident of Grover City. In the cheating condition, where they
took the perspective of a school board member, 80% of the participants chose
just these two cards, replicating other results with permission rules. In the non-
cheating condition, where they took the perspective of a disinterested visitor,
only 45% of the participants chose just these two.
■ When participants take the perspective of detecting whether a so-
cial rule has been violated, they make a large proportion of logically
correct choices in tasks that are formally identical to the Wason card
selection task.
Probabilistic Interpretation of the Conditional
The research just reviewed demonstrates that people can show good reasoning
when they adopt what is called the permission interpretation of the conditional.
However, how are we to understand their poor performance in the original
Wason task where participants are not taking this permission interpretation?
Oaksford and Chater (1994) argued that people tend to interpret these
statements not as strict logical statements but rather as probabilistic statements
about the world. Thus, the statement “If A, then B” is interpreted as meaning
that B will probably occur when A occurs. Even more important to the
Oaksford and Chater argument is the idea that people typically tend to assume
that events A and B have low probabilities of occurring in the world—because
Anderson_8e_Ch10.indd 244 13/09/14 9:57 AM
R e A S o N I N g A b o u T C o N d I T I o N A l S / 245
that is what would make such a statement informative. To illustrate their
argument, suppose you visited a city and a friend told you that the following
rule held about the cars driving in that city:
If a car has a broken headlight, it will have a broken taillight.
Events A and B (broken headlight and broken taillight) are both rare, and con-
sequently asserting that one implies the other is informative. Suppose you go to
a large parking lot in which there are hundreds of cars; some are parked with
their fronts exposed and others with their rears exposed. Most do not have a
broken headlight or a broken taillight, but there are one or two with a broken
headlight and one or two with a broken taillight. On which cars would you
check the end not exposed to test your friend’s claim? Let us consider the fol-
lowing possibilities:
1. A car with a broken headlight: If you saw such a car, like participants in all
of these experiments, you would be inclined to check its taillight. Almost
everyone sees that it is the sensible thing to do.
2. A car without a broken headlight: You would not be inclined to check this
car, like most of the participants in these experiments, and, again, everyone
agrees that you are right.
3. A car with a broken taillight: You would be sorely tempted to see whether
that car did not have a broken headlight (despite the fact that it is suppos-
edly unnecessary or “illogical”), and Oaksford and Chater agree with you.
The reason is that a car with a broken taillight is so rare that, if it did have a
broken headlight, you would be inclined to believe your friend’s claim. The
coincidence would be too much to shrug off.
4. A car without a broken taillight: You would be reluctant to check every car
in the lot that met this condition (despite the fact that it is supposedly the
logical thing to do), and, again, Oaksford and Chater would agree with
you. The odds of finding a broken headlight on such a car are low because
a broken headlight is rare, and so many cars would have to be checked.
Checking those hundreds of normal cars just does not seem worthwhile.
Oaksford and Chater developed a mathematical analysis of the optimal be-
havior that explains why the typical errors in the original Wason task can be
sensible. Their analysis predicts the frequency of choices in the Wason task.
That analysis depends on the assumption that properties such as “broken head-
light” and “broken taillight” are rare. For this reason, it is informative to check
the car with a broken taillight as in possibility 3 and is rather uninformative to
check a car without a broken taillight as in possibility 4. Although the proper-
ties might not always be as rare as in this example, Oaksford and Chater ar-
gued that they generally are rare. For instance, more things are not dogs than
are dogs and more things don’t bark than do, and so the same analysis would
apply to a rule such as “If an animal is a dog, then it will bark” (and many other
such rules). There is a weakness in the Oaksford and Chater argument, how-
ever, when applied to the original Wason experiment where the participants
were reasoning about even numbers: There are not more odd numbers than
even numbers. Nonetheless, Oaksford argued that people carry their beliefs that
properties are rare into the Wason situation. There is evidence that manipula-
tions of the probabilities of these properties do change people’s behavior in the
expected way (Oaksford & Wakefield, 2003).
■ The behavior in the Wason card selection task can be explained if
we assume that participants select cards that will be informative un-
der a probabilistic model.
Anderson_8e_Ch10.indd 245 13/09/14 9:57 AM
246 / Chapter 10 R e A S o N I N g
Final Thoughts on the Connective If
The logical connective if can evoke many different interpretations, which
reflect the richness of human cognition. We have considered evidence for
its probabilistic interpretation and its permission interpretation. People are
capable of adopting the logician’s interpretation of it as well, which is what
logicians and students of logic do when working with logic. Studies of their
reasoning with the connective if (Lewis, 1985; Scheines & Sieg, 1994) find it
to be similar to mathematical reasoning such as in the domain of geometry
discussed in Chapter 9. That is, people can take a problem-solving approach
to formal reasoning with the connective if. Qin et al. (2003) looked at
participants solving abstract logic tasks and found activation in the same
parietal regions (see Figure 10.1) that Goel et al. (2000) found active with their
content-free material.
An amusing result is that training in logic does not necessarily result
in better behavior on the original Wason selection task. In a study by Cheng,
Holyoak, Nisbett, and Oliver (1986), college students who had just taken
a semester course in logic did only 3% better on the card selection task than
those who had no formal training in logic. It was not that they did not know the
rules of logic; rather, they did not think to apply them in the experiment. When
presented with these problems outside of the logic classroom, the students
chose to adopt some other interpretation of the word if. However, this is not
necessarily a “flaw” in human reasoning. To repeat a point made before, many
researchers in AI wish their programs were as adaptive in how they interpret
the information they are presented.
■ People use different problem-solving operators, depending on their
interpretation of the logical connective if.
◆ Deductive Reasoning: Reasoning About
Quantifiers
Much of human knowledge is expressed with logical quantifiers such as all or
some. Witness Lincoln’s famous statement: “You may fool all the people some of
the time; you can even fool some of the people all the time; but you can’t fool all
of the people all the time.” Scientific laws such as Newton’s third law, “For every
action there is always an opposite and equal reaction,” try to identify what is al-
ways the case. It is important to understand how we reason with such quantifiers.
This section will report research on how people reason about such quantifiers
when they appear in simple sentences. As was the case for the logical connective
if, we will see that there are differences between the logician’s interpretation of
quantifiers and the way in which people frequently reason about them.
The Categorical Syllogism
Modern logic is greatly concerned with analyzing the meaning of quantifiers
such as all, no, and some. Consider this example:
All philosophers read some books.
Most of us might believe that this statement is true. The logician would then say
that we were committed to the belief that we could not find a philosopher who
did not read books, but most of us have no trouble accepting the idea that there
were philosophers in societies before there were books or that one still might
find somewhere in the world an illiterate person who professed sufficiently
Anderson_8e_Ch10.indd 246 13/09/14 9:57 AM
d e d u C T I V e R e A S o N I N g : R e A S o N I N g A b o u T Q u A N T I F I e R S / 247
profound ideas to deserve the title of “philosopher.” This example illustrates the
fact that frequently when we use all in real life, we mean “most” or “with high
probability.” Similarly, when we use no as in
No doctors are poor.
we often mean “hardly any” or “with small probability.” Logicians call both
the all and no statements universal statements because they interpret these
statements as blanket claims with no exceptions. Roger Schank, a famous AI
researcher, was once observed to make the assertion
No one uses universals.
which surely is a sign that people use these words in a richer and more complex
way than implied by the logical analysis.
By the beginning of the 20th century, the sophistication with which logi-
cians analyzed such quantified statements increased considerably (see Church,
1956, for a historical discussion). This more advanced treatment of quantifiers is
covered in most modern logic courses. However, most of the research on quanti-
fiers in psychology has focused on a simpler and older kind of quantified deduc-
tion, called the categorical syllogism. Much of Aristotle’s writing on reasoning
concerned the categorical syllogism. Extensive discussion of categorical syllo-
gisms can be found in old textbooks on logic, such as Cohen and Nagel (1934).
Categorical syllogisms include statements containing the quantifiers some,
all, no, and some–not. Examples of such categorical statements are:
1. All doctors are rich.
2. Some lawyers are dishonest.
3. No politician is trustworthy.
4. Some actors are not handsome.
As a convenient shorthand, the categories (e.g., doctors, rich people, lawyers,
dishonest people) in such statements can be represented by letters—say, A, B, C,
and so on. Thus, the statements might be rendered in this way:
1. All A’s are B’s.
2. Some C’s are D’s.
3. No E’s are F’s.
4. Some G’s are not H’s.
Sometimes, as in the Goel et al. experiment described at the beginning of the
chapter, material is actually presented with such letters.
A categorical syllogism typically contains two premises and a conclusion. A
typical example that might be used in research follows:
1. No Pittsburgher is a Browns fan.
All Browns fans live in Cleveland.
∴ No Pittsburgher lives in Cleveland.
Many people accept this syllogism as logically valid. To see that the conclusion
does not necessarily follow from the form of the premises, consider the follow-
ing equivalent syllogism:
2. No man is a woman.
All women are human.
∴ No man is a human.
The first example illustrates a frequent result in research on categorical syllo-
gisms, which is that people often accept invalid syllogisms. For instance, people
accept the invalid syllogism 1 almost as much as they do the following valid
syllogism:
Anderson_8e_Ch10.indd 247 13/09/14 9:57 AM
248 / Chapter 10 R e A S o N I N g
3. No Pittsburgher lives in Cleveland.
All Browns fans live in Cleveland.
∴ No Pittsburgher is a Browns fan.
■ Research on reasoning with quantifiers has focused on trying to
understand why people accept many invalid categorical syllogisms.
The Atmosphere Hypothesis
Syllogism 1 above is a case where people are biased by the content of the
syllogism, but much of the research has focused on the tendency of people
to accept invalid syllogisms even when they have neutral content. People
are generally good at recognizing valid syllogisms when stated with neutral
content. For instance, almost everyone accepts
1. All A’s are B’s.
All B’s are C’s.
∴ All A’s are C’s.
The problem is that people also accept many invalid syllogisms. For instance,
many people will accept
2. Some A’s are B’s.
Some B’s are C’s.
∴ Some A’s are C’s.
(To see that this syllogism is invalid, consider replacing A with men, B with hu-
mans, and C with women.) However, people are not completely indiscriminate
in what they accept as valid. For instance, while they accept syllogism 2 above,
they will not accept this:
3. Some A’s are B’s.
Some B’s are C’s.
∴ No A’s are C’s.
To account for the pattern of what participants accept and what they reject,
Woodworth and Sells (1935) proposed the atmosphere hypothesis. This hy-
pothesis states that the logical terms (some, all, no, and some–not) used in the
premises of a syllogism create an “atmosphere” that predisposes participants to
accept conclusions having the same terms. The atmosphere hypothesis consists
of two parts. One part asserts that participants tend to accept a positive conclu-
sion to positive premises and a negative conclusion to negative premises. When
the premises are mixed, participants tend to prefer a negative. Thus, they would
tend to accept the following invalid syllogism:
4. No A’s are B’s.
All B’s are C’s.
∴ No A’s are C’s.
The other part of the atmosphere hypothesis concerns a participant’s re-
sponse to particular statements (some or some–not) versus universal state-
ments (all or no). As example 4 illustrates, participants will tend to accept a
universal conclusion if the premises are universal. They will tend to accept a
particular conclusion if the premises are particular, which accounts for their
acceptance of syllogism 2 given earlier. When one premise is particular and
the other universal, participants prefer a particular conclusion. Thus they will
accept the following invalid syllogism:
5. All A’s are B’s.
Some B’s are C’s.
∴ Some A’s are C’s.
Anderson_8e_Ch10.indd 248 13/09/14 9:57 AM
d e d u C T I V e R e A S o N I N g : R e A S o N I N g A b o u T Q u A N T I F I e R S / 249
(To see that this syllogism is invalid, consider replacing A with men, B with
humans, and C with women.)
■ The atmosphere hypothesis states that the logical terms (some,
all, no, and some–not) used in the premises of a syllogism create
an “atmosphere” that predisposes participants to accept conclusions
having the same terms.
Limitations of the Atmosphere Hypothesis
The atmosphere hypothesis provides a succinct characterization of partici-
pant behavior with the various syllogisms, but it tells us little about what the
participants are actually thinking or why. It offers no explanation for why the
content of the syllogism (as in the Pittsburgh–Cleveland example) can have
such a strong effect on judgments. Its characterization of participant behavior
is also not always correct for content-free syllogisms. For example, according
to the atmosphere hypothesis, participants should not be as likely to accept
the atmosphere-favored conclusion when it is not valid as when it is valid.
That is, the atmosphere hypothesis predicts that participants would be just as
likely to accept
6. All A’s are B’s.
Some B’s are C’s.
∴ Some A’s are C’s.
which is not valid, as they would be to accept
7. Some A’s are B’s.
All B’s are C’s.
∴ Some A’s are C’s.
which is valid. In fact, participants are more likely to accept the conclusion in
the valid case. Thus, contrary to the atmosphere hypothesis, participants do
display some ability to evaluate a syllogism accurately.
Another limitation of the atmosphere hypothesis is that it fails to predict
the effects that the form of a syllogism will have on participants’ validity judg-
ments. For instance, the hypothesis predicts that participants would be no more
likely to erroneously accept
8. Some A’s are B’s.
Some B’s are C’s.
∴ Some A’s are C’s.
than they would be to erroneously accept
9. Some B’s are A’s.
Some C’s are B’s.
∴ Some A’s are C’s.
In fact, participants are more willing to erroneously accept the conclusion in
the former case (Johnson-Laird & Steedman, 1978). In general, participants are
more willing to accept a conclusion from A to C if they can find a chain leading
from A to B in one premise and from B to C in the second premise.
Another problem with the atmosphere hypothesis is that it does not really
handle what participants do in the presence of two negatives. If participants are
given the following two premises,
No A’s are B’s.
No B’s are C’s.
Anderson_8e_Ch10.indd 249 13/09/14 9:57 AM
250 / Chapter 10 R e A S o N I N g
the atmosphere hypothesis would predict that participants should tend to
accept the invalid conclusion:
∴ No A’s are C’s.
Although a few participants do accept this conclusion, most refuse to accept
any conclusion when both premises are negative, which is the correct thing to
do (Dickstein, 1978).
All of these problems with the atmosphere hypothesis stem from the fact
that it does not really explain what people are thinking when they process such
syllogisms. It merely tries to predict what conclusions they will accept. The
next section will consider some explanations of the thought processes that lead
people to correct or incorrect conclusions.
■ Participants only approximate the predictions of the atmosphere
hypothesis and are often more accurate than it would predict.
Process Explanations
One class of explanations is that participants choose not to do what the experi-
menters think they are doing. For instance, it has been argued that it is not nat-
ural for people to judge the logical validity of a syllogism. Rather, people tend to
judge the truth of the conclusion in the real world. Consider the following pair
of syllogisms:
All lawyers are human.
All Republicans are human.
∴ Some lawyers are Republicans.
which has a true conclusion but is not a valid syllogism (consider replacing law-
yers by men and Republicans by women). Contrast this last syllogism with the
following syllogism:
All bictoids are reptiles.
All bictoids are birds.
∴ Some reptiles are birds.
which is a valid argument but has a false conclusion. People have a greater ten-
dency to accept the first, invalid argument having a true conclusion than the sec-
ond, valid argument having a false conclusion (Evans, Handley, & Harper, 2001).
It is also argued that many people really do not understand what it means
for an argument to be valid and simply judge whether a conclusion is possible
given the premises. So, for example, although the preceding syllogism con-
cerning lawyers and Republicans is not valid, it is certainly possible given the
premises that the conclusion is true. Evans et al. showed that there is very lit-
tle difference in the judgments that participants make when they are asked to
judge when conclusions are necessarily true given the premises (the measure of
a valid argument) and when conclusions are possibly true given the premises.
Johnson-Laird (1983; Johnson-Laird & Steedman, 1978) proposed that
participants judge whether a conclusion is possible by creating a mental model
of a world that satisfies the premises of the syllogism and inspecting that model
to see whether the conclusion is satisfied. This explanation is called mental
model theory. Consider these premises:
All the squares are striped.
Some of the striped objects have bold borders.
Figure 10.3a illustrates what a participant might imagine, according to Johnson-
Laird, as an instantiation of these premises. The participant has imagined a
Anderson_8e_Ch10.indd 250 13/09/14 9:57 AM
I N d u C T I V e R e A S o N I N g A N d H y p oT H e S I S T e S T I N g / 251
group of objects, some of which are square, whereas others are
round; some of which are striped, whereas others are clear; and
some of which have bold borders, whereas others do not. This
world represents one possible interpretation of these premises.
When the participant is asked to judge the following conclusion,
∴ Some of the squares have bold borders.
The participant inspects their mental model and sees that, indeed,
the conclusion is true in that model. The problem is that this one
model establishes only that the conclusion is possible, but not that it
is necessary. For the conclusion to be necessary, it must be true in all
mental models that are consistent with the premises. Figure 10.3b
illustrates a model in which the premises are true but the conclusion
does not hold.
Johnson-Laird claimed that participants have consider-
able difficulty developing alternative models and tend to accept
a syllogism if its conclusion is correct in the first mental model
they come up with. Johnson-Laird (1983) developed a computer
simulation of this theory that reproduces many of the errors that
participants make. Johnson-Laird (1995) also argued that there is neurological
evidence in favor of the mental model explanation. He noted that patients with
right-hemisphere damage are more impaired in reasoning tasks than are pa-
tients with left-hemisphere damage and that the right hemisphere tends to take
part in spatial processing of mental images. In a brain-imaging study, Kroger,
Nystrom, Cohen, and Johnson-Laird (2008) found that the right frontal cortex
was more active than the left in processing such syllogisms but that the oppo-
site was true when people engaged in arithmetic calculation (this left bias for
arithmetic is also illustrated in the study described in Chapter 1, Figure 1.16).
Parsons and Osherson (2001) reported a similar finding, with deductive rea-
soning being right localized and probabilistic reasoning being left localized.
In its essence, Johnson-Laird’s argument is that people make errors in rea-
soning because they overlook some of the ways in which the premises might
be true. For example, a participant imagines Figure 10.3a as a realization of the
premises and overlooks the possibility of Figure 10.3b. Johnson-Laird (personal
communication) argues that a great many errors in human reasoning are pro-
duced by failures to consider possible explanations of the data. For instance, a
problem in the Chernobyl disaster was that, for several hours, engineers failed
to consider the possibility that the reactor was no longer intact.
■ Errors in evaluating syllogisms can be explained by assuming that
participants fail to consider possible mental models of the syllogisms.
◆ Inductive Reasoning and Hypothesis Testing
In contrast to deductive reasoning, where logical rules allow one to infer certain
conclusions from premises, in inductive reasoning the conclusions do not nec-
essarily follow from the premises. Consider the following premises:
The first number in the series is 1.
The second number in the series is 2.
The third number in the series is 4.
What conclusion follows? The numbers are doubling and so one possible con-
clusion is that
The fourth number in the series is 8.
(a)
(b)
FIGURE 10.3 Two possible
models that participants might
form for the premises of the
categorical syllogism dealing with
square and round objects.
Anderson_8e_Ch10.indd 251 13/09/14 9:57 AM
252 / Chapter 10 R e A S o N I N g
However, a better conclusion might be to state the general rule:
Each number is twice the previous number.
A characteristic of a good inductive inference like the second conclu-
sion is that it is a statement from which one can deduce all the premises. For
example, because we know each number is twice the previous number, we can
now deduce what the original three numbers must have been. Thus, in a cer-
tain sense induction is deduction turned around. The difficulty for inductive
reasoning is that there is usually not a single conclusion that would be consist-
ent with the premises. For instance, in the problem above one could have con-
cluded that the difference between successive numbers is increasing by one and
that the fourth number would be 7.
Inductive reasoning is relevant to many aspects of everyday life: a detective
trying to solve a mystery given a set of clues, a doctor trying to diagnose the
cause of a set of symptoms, someone trying to determine what is wrong with a
TV, or a researcher trying to discover a new scientific law. In all these cases, one
gets a set of specific observations from which one is trying to infer some rel-
evant conclusion. Many of these cases involve the sort of probabilistic reason-
ing that will be discussed in the next chapter (for instance, medical symptoms
are typically only associated probabilistically with disease). In this chapter, we
will focus on cases, like the above number example, where we are looking for a
hypothesis that implies the observations with certainty. Much of the interest in
such cases revolves around how people seek evidence relevant to formulating
such a hypothesis.
Hypothesis Formation
Bruner, Goodnow, and Austin (1956) performed a classic series of experiments
on hypothesis formation. Figure 10.4 illustrates the kind of material they used.
The stimuli were all rectangular boxes containing various objects. The stimuli
varied on four dimensions: number of objects (one, two, or three); number of
borders around the boxes (one, two, or three); shape (cross, circle, or square);
and color (green, black, or red: represented here as white, black, or blue). Par-
ticipants were told that they were to discover some concept that described a
particular subset of these instances. For instance, the concept might have been
FIGURE 10.4 Stimuli used by
bruner et al. in one of their stud-
ies of concept identification. The
array consists of stimuli formed
by combinations of four attrib-
utes, each exhibiting three values.
(From Bruner, J. S., Goodnow,
J. J., & Austin, G. A. (1956). A study
of thinking. Copyright © 1956
Transaction Publishers. Reprinted
by permission.)
Anderson_8e_Ch10.indd 252 13/09/14 9:57 AM
I N d u C T I V e R e A S o N I N g A N d H y p oT H e S I S T e S T I N g / 253
black crosses. Participants were to discover the correct concept on
the basis of information they were given about what were and what
were not instances of the concept.
Figure 10.5 contains three illustrations (the three columns)
of the information participants might have been presented. Each
column consists of a sequence of instances identified either as
members of the concept (positive cases denoted with +’s) or not
(negative cases denoted with 2’s). Each column represents a different
concept. Participants would be presented with the instances in a
column one at a time. From these instances they would determine
what the concept was. Stop reading and try to determine the concept
for each column.
● Concept 1 is that the stimulus must contain two crosses. This is
referred to as a conjunctive concept because a conjunction of two
or more features must be present for the stimulus to be a mem-
ber of the concept (in this case the features are two and cross).
People typically find conjunctive concepts easiest to discover. In
some sense, conjunctive hypotheses seem to be the most natural
kind of hypotheses. They are also the kind of hypotheses that
have been researched most extensively.
● Concept 2 is that the stimulus must either have two borders or
contain two circles. This is referred to as a disjunctive concept
because a stimulus is a member of the concept if either of the features is
present.
● Concept 3 is that the number of objects must equal the number of borders.
This is referred to as a relational concept because a stimulus is a member of
the concept only if certain features are in a specified relationship.
The problems in this series are particularly difficult because to identify
the concept, you must both determine which features are relevant and discover
the kind of rule that connects the features (e.g., conjunctive, disjunctive, or
relational). The former task is referred to as attribute identification and the
latter as rule learning (Haygood & Bourne, 1965). In many experiments, the
participant is told either the relevant attributes or the kind of rule. For instance,
in the Bruner et al. (1956) experiments, participants were told that the concepts
were conjunctive and that their only task was to identify the correct attributes.
■ Forming a hypothesis involves identifying both what features are
relevant to the hypothesis and how these features are related.
Hypothesis Testing
In the experiment illustrated in Figure 10.5, participants are presented with
pieces of evidence illustrating some concept and have to figure out what the
concept is. Some problems in real life are like this—we have no control over
what evidence we see but must figure out the rules that govern it. For instance,
when there is an outbreak of food poisoning in the United States, medical health
researchers check on what the victims ate, looking for some common pattern.
They have no control over what the victims ate. On the other hand, in other sit-
uations one can do experiments and test certain possibilities. For instance, when
medical researchers want to determine the most effective combination of drugs
to treat a disease, they will perform clinical trials where different groups of pa-
tients receive different drug combinations. Scientific research can reach more
certain conclusions more quickly if the researchers can choose the cases to test
rather than having to take the cases that the situation presents to them.
Concept 1 Concept 2 Concept 3
�
�
�
�
�
�
�
�
�
�
�
�
�
�
�
�
�
�
�
�
�
�
FIGURE 10.5 examples of
groups of stimuli from which par-
ticipants are to identify concepts.
In each column, a plus sign (+)
signals that the stimulus is an
instance of the concept and a
minus sign (–) signals that the
stimulus is not an instance of the
concept. (Data from Bruner et al.,
1956.)
Anderson_8e_Ch10.indd 253 13/09/14 9:57 AM
254 / Chapter 10 R e A S o N I N g
In their classic research, Bruner et al. (1956) also studied situations where
participants could choose which instances and ask whether they were members
of the concept. In one condition, Bruner et al. told participants that a certain
stimulus was an instance of a conjunctive concept, and then the participants
could select other stimuli and ask whether they were also instances of the con-
cept. For example, if you were told that the middle stimulus in Figure 10.4
(two black circles in a box with two borders) was an instance of a conjunctive
concept that you had to discover, what stimuli would you choose to select? The
approach advocated in science would be to test each dimension, one at a time,
and determine whether it was critical to the hypothesis. For instance, you could
choose to test first the dimension of number of borders and choose a stimu-
lus that differed from the initial stimulus only on this dimension. If the stimu-
lus were not an instance, you would know that that value of the dimension (in
this case, two borders) was relevant, and if the stimulus was an instance, you
would know that that value was irrelevant. Then you could try another dimen-
sion. After four stimuli, you would have identified the conjunctive concept with
certainty. Bruner et al. called this strategy “conservative focusing,” and some of
their participants (Harvard undergraduates of the 1950s) followed it. However,
many participants practiced less systematic strategies. For instance, given the
same initial stimulus, they might test an instance that changed both the color
and the number of borders. If the stimulus were an instance, they would know
that neither dimension was relevant. However, if the stimulus were not an in-
stance, they would have learned relatively little.
A well-known case where people seem to test their hypotheses less than
optimally is the 2-4-6 task introduced by Wason (1960—the same psycholo-
gist who introduced the card selection task that we described earlier). In this
experiment, participants are told that “2 4 6” is an instance of a triad that is
consistent with a rule and are instructed to find out what the rule is by asking
whether other triples of numbers are instances of the rule. What triads would
you try? The protocol below, which comes from one of Wason’s participants,
gives each triad that the participant produced and the participant’s reason for
the choice, along with the experimenter’s feedback as to whether the triad con-
formed to the rule. The sequence of triads was occasionally broken when the
participant decided to announce a hypothesis. The experimenter’s feedback for
each hypothesis is given in parentheses:
Triad Reason Given for Triad Feedback
8 10 12 2 added each time. Yes
14 16 18 Even numbers in order of
magnitude.
Yes
20 22 24 Same reason. Yes
1 3 5 2 added to preceding number Yes
Announcement: The rule is that by starting with any number, 2 is added
each time to form the next number. (Incorrect)
2 6 10 The middle number is the arithme-
tic mean of the other two.
Yes
1 50 99 Same reason. Yes
Announcement: The rule is that the middle number is the arithmetic mean
of the other two. (Incorrect)
3 10 17 Same number, 7, added each time. Yes
0 3 6 Three added each time. Yes
Announcement: The rule is that the difference between two numbers next to
each other is the same. (Incorrect)
Anderson_8e_Ch10.indd 254 13/09/14 9:57 AM
I N d u C T I V e R e A S o N I N g A N d H y p oT H e S I S T e S T I N g / 255
The important feature to note about this protocol is that the participant tested
the hypothesis by almost exclusively generating sequences consistent with
it. The better procedure in this case would have been to also try sequences that
were inconsistent. That is, the participant should have looked sooner for neg-
ative evidence as well as positive evidence. This would have exposed the fact
that the participant had started out with a hypothesis that was too narrow and
was missing the more general correct hypothesis. The only way to discover this
error is to try examples that disconfirm the hypothesis, but this is what people
have great difficulty doing.
In another experiment, Wason (1968) asked 16 participants what they
would do after announcing a hypothesis to determine whether the hypothesis
was incorrect. Nine participants said they would generate only instances consist-
ent with their hypotheses and wait for one to be identified as not an instance of
the rule. Only four participants said that they would generate instances incon-
sistent with the hypothesis to see whether they were identified as members of the
rule. The remaining three insisted that their hypotheses could not be incorrect.
This strategy to select only positive instances has been called the con-
firmation bias. It has been argued that confirmation bias is not necessarily a
mistaken strategy (Fischhoff & Beyth-Marom, 1983; Klayman & Ha, 1987). In
many situations, selecting instances consistent with a hypothesis is an effective
way to disconfirm the hypothesis. For instance, if one did well on an exam after
drinking a glass of orange juice and entertained the hypothesis that orange juice
led to good exam performance, drinking orange juice before a couple more
exams might quickly disabuse one of that hypothesis. What made this strategy
so ineffective in Wason’s experiment is simply that the correct hypothesis was
very general. The analogy to the Wason hypothesis in this case would be the
hypothesis that consuming any drink would improve exam performance
(particularly unlikely if we include alcoholic drinks).
■ In choosing instances to test a hypothesis, people often focus on in-
stances consistent with their hypothesis, and this can cause difficul-
ties if their hypothesis is too narrow.
Scientific Discovery
Whether participants are trying to infer a concept by selecting instances from
a set of options like those in Figure 10.4 or trying to infer a rule that describes
a set of examples as in the protocol we just reviewed, participants are engaged
in problem-solving searches like those we discussed in Chapter 8 (such as in
Figure 8.4 or Figure 8.8). In fact, they are searching two problem spaces. One
problem space is the space of possible hypotheses and the other is the space of
possible test instances. It has been argued (e.g., Simon & Lea, 1974; Klahr &
Dunbar, 1988) that this is exactly the situation that scientists face in discovering
a new theory—they search through a space of possible theories and a space of
possible experiments to test these theories.
12 8 4 The same number is subtracted each
time to form the next number.
No
Announcement: The rule is adding a number, always the same one, to form
the next number. (Incorrect)
1 4 9 Any three numbers in order of mag-
nitude.
Yes
Announcement: The rule is any three numbers in order of magnitude.
(Correct)
Anderson_8e_Ch10.indd 255 13/09/14 9:57 AM
256 / Chapter 10 R e A S o N I N g
The term “confirmation bias” has been used to describe failures in the way
people test scientific theories. In the hypothesis-testing example we described,
it just referred to a tendency to test only instances that were an example of
one’s hypothesis. However, in the broader context of testing scientific theories,
it refers to a host of behaviors that serve to protect one’s favored theory from
disconfirmation. In one study, Dunbar (1993) had undergraduates try to dis-
cover how genes were controlled by redoing, in a highly simplified form, the
research that won Jacques Monod and Francois Jacob the 1965 Nobel Prize for
medicine. They provided the participants with computer simulations that could
mimic some of the critical experiments. The participants were told that their
task was to determine how one set of genes controlled another set of genes that
produced an enzyme only when lactose was present. (This enzyme serves to
break down the lactose into glucose.) All the undergraduates initially thought
that there must be a mechanism by which the first set of genes responded to the
presence of lactose and activated the second set of genes. This is the hypothesis
that Monod and Jacob had initially as well, but in fact the mechanism is an
inhibitory mechanism by which the first set of genes inhibit the enzyme-
producing genes when lactose is absent but are blocked from inhibiting when
lactose is present. Showing the confirmation bias, these undergraduates tried to
find experiments that would confirm their activation hypothesis. The majority
of the participants continued to search the experimental space for some combi-
nation of genes that would support their activation hypothesis, but a minority
began to search for alternative hypotheses about what was in control.
Science as an institution has a way of protecting us from scientists whose
confirmation bias leads them too strongly in the wrong direction. Individual
scientists are often strongly motivated to find problems with the theories of
other scientists (Nickerson, 1998). There is also considerable variation in how
individual scientists practice. Michael Faraday, a famous 19th-century chem-
ist, made his discoveries by early focusing on collecting confirmatory evidence
and then switching to focusing on disconfirmatory evidence (Tweney, 1989).
Dunbar (1997) studied scientists in three immunology laboratories and one
How convincing is a 90% result?
Scientists can be subject to a con-
firmation bias. For instance, louis
pasteur was involved in a major
debate with other scientists about
whether organisms could spontane-
ously generate. The other scientists
argued that the appearance of bac-
teria in apparently sterilized organic
material was evidence for sponta-
neous generation of life. pasteur
performed many experiments trying
to disprove this, and 90% of his
experiments failed, but he chose to
publish only the successful experi-
ment, claiming that the results of
the rest were due to experimental
errors (geison, 1995). Scientists
frequently question their experimen-
tal results if those results seem to
contradict established theory. For
instance, if one dropped a rock from
a 100-m tower and timed its fall as
1 s, it would be wise not to conclude
that acceleration due to gravity was
200 m (using the formula distance
5 ½ 3 acceleration 3 time 2)
rather than the established value
of approximately 10 m on earth.
Almost certainly, something was
wrong in the measurements and
the experiment needs to be re-
peated. on the other hand, the
pasteur case does seem rather
extreme, ignoring 90% of the ex-
perimental results on a question
that was much debated at the time.
In this case, however, he turned out
to be right.
I m p l I c a t I o n s
▼
Ph
ot
os
1
2/
Al
am
y.
▲
Anderson_8e_Ch10.indd 256 13/09/14 9:57 AM
d u A l – p R o C e S S T H e o R I e S / 257
biology laboratory at Stanford and noted that they were quite ready to attend to
unexpected results and modify their theory to accommodate these.
Fugelsang and Dunbar (2005) performed fMRI studies looking at par-
ticipants as they tried to integrate data with specific hypotheses. For instance,
participants were told that they were seeing results from a clinical trial that
examined the effect of an antidepressant on mood. They either saw patient
records that indicated the drug had an effect on mood (consistent) or that it did
not have an effect (inconsistent). Participants started out believing the drug had
an effect and thus found consistent evidence more plausible. When viewing the
inconsistent evidence, participants showed greater activation in their anterior
cingulate cortex (ACC) (see Chapter 3, Figure 3.1). As we noted in Chapter 3,
the ACC is highly active when participants are engaged in a task that requires
strong cognitive control, such as dealing with an inconsistent trial in a Stroop
task. These same basic brain mechanisms seem to be invoked when participants
must deal with inconsistent data in a scientific context, and the results suggest
that scientific reasoning evokes basic cognitive processes.
■ In studies of scientific discovery, participants tend to focus on
experiments consistent with their favorite hypothesis and show a
reluctance to search for alternative hypotheses.
◆ Dual-Process Theories
We have now reviewed the rather mixed picture as to whether human
reasoning corresponds to normative prescriptions or not. Dual-process theories
(Evans, 2007, Stanovich, 2011) have argued that human reasoning both does
and does not correspond to normative prescriptions. They argue that human
reasoning is governed by two different processes, which sometimes agree as
to what to conclude and sometimes disagree. There are what are called Type 1
processes, which are rapid and automatic and rely on associations between
situations and actions. For instance, the atmosphere hypothesis proposes that
people associate quantifiers in premises with conclusions. On the other had
there are what are called Type 2 processes, which are slow and deliberative.
These are the processes that may follow the prescriptions of the normative
models. Type 2 processes are often considered to have arisen later in human
evolution and to make heavy demands on working memory.
A standard criticism of such theories is that they are set to accommodate
any result and so can predict none. If people display normatively irrational be-
havior, this is because their Type 1 processes dominate. If they display norma-
tively rational behavior, this is because their Type 2 processes dominate. What
sort of empirical evidence would really support a dual-process explanation?
One sort of evidence concerns individual differences in reasoning behavior. For
instance, participants with higher IQs appear to perform better by normative
standards on the Wason selection task (Newstead, Handley, Harley, Wright, &
Farrelly, 2004). Another source of evidence involves timing. When people re-
spond quickly, they tend to produce responses consistent with Type 1 thinking,
whereas when they take longer, their answers tend to correspond more with
Type 2 thinking. Yet another source of evidence comes from brain imaging.
The anterior cingulate, which is responsive to conflict (see Chapter 3), is more
engaged when Type 2 processes are engaged that conflict with Type 1 processes
(de Neys, Vartanian, & Goel, 2008).
One might be inclined to think that when Type 1 and Type 2 processes dis-
agree, it is the Type 1 processes that are wrong. However, this is not always the
case. As we have discussed throughout this chapter, often what follows from the
Anderson_8e_Ch10.indd 257 13/09/14 9:57 AM
258 / Chapter 10 R e A S o N I N g
information that is given is not what is actually true in the real world. This is
not because the real world is illogical but rather because what we are told often
does not capture all the complexity of the real world. For instance, statements
that are cast as universal assertions are often only true with a relatively high
probability. Type 1 processes can overcome the inadequacies of what is actually
specified by taking advantage of the wisdom of experience.
◆ Conclusions
Much of the research on human reasoning has found it wanting when compared
to the rules and implications of formal logic. As we noted, this might even be
said of the process by which scientists engage in their research. However, this
dismal characterization of human reasoning fails to properly appreciate the full
context in which reasoning occurs (Manktelow, 2012). In many actual reasoning
situations, people do quite well, in part because they take in the full complex-
ity and implications of the actual real-world content. Despite a tendency toward
confirmation bias, science as a whole has progressed with great success. To some
extent, this is because science is a social activity carried out by a community of
researchers. Competitive scientists are quick to find mistakes in each other’s ap-
proach, but there is also a cooperative nature to science. Research takes place
among teams of researchers, who often rely on each other’s help. Okada and
Simon (1997) found that pairs of undergraduates were much more successful
than individual students at finding the inhibition mechanism in Dunbar’s (1993)
genetic control task. As Okada and Simon note, “In a collaborative situation,
subjects must often be more explicit than in an individual learning situation, to
make partners understand their ideas and to convince them. This can prompt
subjects to entertain requests for explanation and construct deeper explana-
tions” (p. 130). The bottom line of this chapter is that human reasoning nor-
mally takes place in a world of complexities (both factual and social) and that
what appears deficient in the laboratory may be exquisitely tuned to that world.
Questions for Thought
1. Johnson-Laird and Goldvarg (1997) presented
Princeton undergraduates with reasoning
problems like this one:
Only one of the following premises is true
about a particular hand of cards:
There is a king in the hand or there is an ace
or both.
There is a queen in the hand or there is an
ace or both.
There is a jack in the hand or there is a 10,
or both.
Is it possible that there is an ace in the hand?
They report that the students were correct on
only 1% of such problems. What is the cor-
rect answer for the problem above? Why is it so
hard? Johnson-Laird and Goldvarg attribute the
difficulty that people have in creating mental
models of what is not the case.
2. Johnson-Laird and Steedman (1978) presented
the following premises to participants drawn from
students at Columbia Teachers College:
All gourmets are shopkeepers.
All bowlers are shopkeepers.
And asked them what conclusion, if any, followed.
The following is the distribution of answers:
17 agreed that no conclusion followed.
2 thought that “Some gourmets are bowlers”
followed.
4 thought that “All bowlers are gourmets”
followed.
7 thought that “Some bowlers are gourmets”
followed.
Anderson_8e_Ch10.indd 258 13/09/14 9:57 AM
C o N C l u S I o N S / 259
Key Terms
affirmation of the
consequent
antecedent
atmosphere hypothesis
attribute identification
categorical syllogism
conditional statement
confirmation bias
consequent
deductive reasoning
denial of the antecedent
inductive reasoning
logical quantifiers
mental model theory
modus ponens
modus tollens
particular statements
permission schema
rule learning
selection task
syllogisms
Type 1 processes
Type 2 processes
universal statements
8 thought that “All gourmets are bowlers”
followed.
Use the concepts of this chapter to help explain the
answers these participants gave and did not give.
3. Consider the third column in Figure 10.5, which
was described in the chapter as satisfying the
rule that “the number of borders is the same
as the number of objects.” An alternative rule
that describes the instances is “3 white objects
or 2 black objects or 1 object with one border.”
Which is the better description of the category
and why? Is it possible to know for certain which
is the correct rule?
Anderson_8e_Ch10.indd 259 13/09/14 9:57 AM
260
As we saw in Chapter 10, most of the research on human reasoning has com-
pared it to various prescriptive models from logic and mathematics. The prescrip-
tive models assume that people have access to information about which they can
be certain and that they can coolly reflect on this information. However, in the real
world, people have to make decisions in the face of incomplete and uncertain infor-
mation. Furthermore, in contrast to the relatively neutral character of the syllogisms
of the previous chapter, our decisions in real life can have important consequences.
Consider the simple task of deciding what to eat—we have all been frustrated by
the medical reports that pronounce formerly “healthy” food as “unhealthy” and
vice versa. In making such decisions, we must also deal with the unpleasant con-
sequences of what might be good decisions, such as going on a diet or giving up a
pleasurable activity like smoking.
This chapter will focus on research on judgment and decision making that
comes closer to such real-life circumstances. As before, we will discuss research
showing how the performance of normal humans is wanting compared to models
that were developed for rational behavior. However, we will also see how these pre-
scriptive models are incomplete, missing the complexity of everyday human decision
making. Recent research has developed a more nuanced characterization of the situ-
ations that people face in their everyday life, and a better appreciation of the nature
of their judgments.
In this chapter, we will answer the questions:
● How well do people judge the probability of uncertain events?
● How do people use their past experiences to make judgments?
● How do people decide among uncertain options that offer different rewards
and costs?
● How does the brain support such decision making?
◆ The Brain and Decision Making
In 1848, Phineas Gage, a railroad worker in Vermont, suffered a bizarre acci-
dent: He was using an iron bar to pack gunpowder down into a hole drilled
into a rock that had to be blasted to clear a roadbed for the railroad. The pow-
der unexpectedly exploded and sent the iron bar flying through his head before
landing 80 feet away. Figure 11.1 shows a reconstruction of the trajectory of
the bar through his skull (Damasio, Grabowski, Frank, Galabruda, & Damasio,
1994). (For a more detailed reconstruction, see Color Plate 11.1.) The bar
managed to miss any vital areas and spared most of his brain but tore through
the center of the very front of the brain—a region called the ventromedial
11
Decision Making
Anderson_8e_Ch11.indd 260 13/09/14 9:58 AM
T H e B R A I n A n d d e C I s I o n M A k I n g / 261
prefrontal cortex. Amazingly, he not only survived, he was
even able to talk and walk away from the accident after being
unconscious for a few minutes. His recovery was difficult, largely
because of infections, but he eventually was able to hold jobs
such as a coach driver. Henry Jacob Bigelow, a professor of sur-
gery at Harvard University, declared him “quite recovered in
faculties of body and mind” (Macmillan, 2000). Based on such
a report, one might have thought that this part of the brain
performed no function.
However, all was not well. His personality had undergone
major changes. Before his injury he had been polite, respect-
ful, popular, and reliable, and generally displayed the ideal
behavior for an American man of that time.1 Afterward he
became just the opposite—as his own physician, Harlow, later
described him:
fitful, irreverent, indulging at times in the grossest
profanity (which was not previously his custom), mani-
festing but little deference for his fellows, impatient of
restraint or advice when it conflicts with his desires,
at times pertinaciously obstinate, yet capricious and vacillating,
devising many plans of future operations, which are no sooner
arranged than they are abandoned in turn for others appearing
more feasible. A child in his intellectual capacity and manifesta-
tions, he has the animal passions of a strong man. Previous to his
injury, although untrained in the schools, he possessed a well-
balanced mind, and was looked upon by those who knew him as
a shrewd, smart businessman, very energetic and persistent in
executing all his plans of operation. In this regard his mind was
radically changed, so decidedly that his friends and acquaintances
said he was “no longer Gage.” (Harlow, 1868, p. 327)
Gage is the classic case demonstrating the importance of the ventrome-
dial prefrontal cortex to human personality. Subsequently, a number of other
patients with similar damage have been described, and they all show the same
sorts of personality disorders. Family members and friends will describe them
with phrases like “socially incompetent,” “decides against his best interest,” and
“doesn’t learn from his mistakes” (Sanfey, Hastie, Colvin, & Grafman, 2003).
Earlier in Chapter 8, we discussed the case of the patient PF, who also suf-
fered damage to his anterior prefrontal region, like Gage. However, in his case
the damage also included lateral portions of the anterior prefrontal region, and
his difficulty was more with organizing complex problem solving than with
decision making. In general, it is thought that the more medial portion of the
anterior prefrontal region, where Gage’s injury was localized, is important to
motivation, emotional regulation, and social sensitivity (Gilbert, Spengler,
Simons, Frith, & Burgess, 2006).
■ The ventromedial prefrontal cortex plays an important role in
achieving the motivational balance and social sensitivity that is key
to making successful judgments.
Brain Structures
FIGURE 11.1 A representation
of the passage of the bar through
Phineas gage’s brain. note that
only the middle of the frontal-
most portion has been damaged.
1 Recently, there has been some question about whether Phineas Gage’s personality change was actually
true (e.g., Macmillan & Lena, 2010).
Anderson_8e_Ch11.indd 261 13/09/14 9:58 AM
262 / Chapter 11 d e C I s I o n M A k I n g
◆ Probabilistic Judgment
How do people reason about probabilities as they collect relevant evidence to
make their decisions? There is a prescriptive model, called Bayes’s theorem,
which is based on a mathematical analysis of the nature of probability. Much of
the research in the field has been concerned with showing that human partici-
pants do not match up with the prescriptions of Bayes’s theorem.
Bayes’s Theorem
As an example of the application of Bayes’s theorem, suppose I come home and
find the door to my house ajar. I am interested in the hypothesis that it might
be the work of a burglar. How do I evaluate this hypothesis? I might treat it as a
conditional syllogism of the following sort:
If a burglar is in the house, then the door will be ajar.
The door is ajar.
A burglar is in the house.
As a conditional syllogism, it would be judged as the erroneous affirmation
of the consequent. However, it does have a certain plausibility as an inductive
argument. Bayes’s theorem provides a way of assessing just how plausible it is
by combining what are called a prior probability and a conditional probability
to produce what is called a posterior probability, which is a measure of the
strength of the conclusion.
A prior probability is the probability that a hypothesis is true before con-
sideration of the evidence (e.g., the door is ajar). The less likely the hypothesis
was before the evidence, the less likely it should be after the evidence. Let us
refer to the hypothesis that my house has been burglarized as H. Suppose that
I know from police statistics that the probability of a house in my neighbor-
hood being burglarized on any particular day is 1 in 1,000.2 This probability is
expressed as:
Prob(H) 5 .001
This equation expresses the prior probability of the hypothesis, or the probabil-
ity that the hypothesis is true before the evidence is considered. The other prior
probability needed for the application of Bayes’s theorem is the probability that
the house has not been burglarized. This alternate hypothesis is denoted ~H.
The probability of ~H is 1 minus Prob(H) and is expressed as
Prob(~H) 5 .999
A conditional probability is the probability that a particular type of evidence
is true if a particular hypothesis is true. Let us consider what the conditional
probabilities of the evidence (door ajar) would be under the two hypotheses.
First, suppose I believe that the probability of the door’s being ajar is quite
high if I have been burglarized, for example, 4 out of 5. Let E denote the evi-
dence, or the event of the door being ajar. Then, we will denote this conditional
probability of E given that H is true as
Prob(E|H) 5 .8
Second, we determine the probability of E if H is not true—that is, the probabil-
ity the door would be ajar even if there was not a burglary. Suppose I know that
2 Although this makes for easy calculation, the actual number for Pittsburgh is closer to 1 burglary per
100,000 households per day.
Anderson_8e_Ch11.indd 262 13/09/14 9:58 AM
P R o B A B I l I s T I C J u d g M e n T / 263
chances are only 1 out of 100 that the door would be left ajar by accident, by
neighbors with a key, or for some other reason. We denote this probability by
Prob(E|~H) 5 .01
the probability of E given that H is not true.
The posterior probability is the probability that a hypothesis is true after
consideration of the evidence. The notation Prob(H|E) is the posterior prob-
ability of hypothesis H given evidence E. According to Bayes’s theorem, we can
calculate the posterior probability of H, that the house has been burglarized
given the evidence, thus:
Given our assumed values, we can solve for Prob(H|E) by substituting into the
preceding equation:
Thus, the probability that my house has been burglarized is still less than 8
in 100. Note that the posterior probability is this low even though an open
door is good evidence for a burglary and not for a normal state of affairs:
Prob(E|H) 5 .8 versus Prob(E|~H) 5 .01. The posterior probability is still
quite low because the prior probability of H—Prob(H) 5 .001—was very low
to begin with. Relative to that low start, the posterior probability of .074 is a
considerable increase.
Table 11.1 offers an illustration of Bayes’s theorem as applied to the burglary
example. It offers an analysis of 100,000 households, assuming these statistics.
There are four possible states of affairs, determined by whether the burglary
hypothesis is true or not and by whether there is evidence of an open door or
not. The frequency of each state of affairs is set forth in the four cells of the table.
Let’s consider the frequency in the upper-left cell, which is the case I was worried
about—the door is open and my house has been burglarized. Because 1 in a 1,000
households are burglarized (Prob(H) is .001), there should be 100 burglaries in
the 100,000 households. This is the frequency of both events in the left column.
Because 8 times out of 10 the front door is left open in a burglary (Prob(E|H)
is .8), 80 of these 100 burglaries should leave the door open—the number in the
upper left. Similarly, in the upper-right cell, we can calculate that of the 99,900
homes without burglary, the front door will be left open 1 in 100 times, for 999
cases. Thus, in total there are 80 1 999 5 1,079 cases of front doors left open,
and the probability of the house being burglarized is 80∕1,079 5 .074. The calcu-
lations in Bayes’s theorem perform the same calculation as afforded by Table 11.1,
but in terms of probabilities rather than frequencies. As we will see, people find it
easier to reason in terms of frequencies.
Because Bayes’s theorem rests on a mathematical analysis of the nature of
probability, the formula can be proved to evaluate hypotheses correctly. Thus, it
enables us to precisely determine the posterior
probability of a hypothesis given the prior and
conditional probabilities. The theorem serves
as a prescriptive model, or normative model,
specifying the means of evaluating the prob-
ability of a hypothesis. Such a model contrasts
with a descriptive model, which specifies
what people actually do. People normally do
not perform the calculations that we have just
gone through any more than they follow the
Prob(E|H) ● Prob(H)
Prob(E|H) ● Prob(H) 1 Prob(E|~H) ● Prob(~H)Bayes equation: Prob(H|E) 5
(.8)(.001)
(.8)(.001) 1 (.01)(.999)Prob(H|E) 5 5 .074
Burglarized Not Burglarized Sums
door open 80 999 1,079
door not open 20 98,901 98,921
sums 100 99,900 100,000
data from J. R. Hayes (1984).
TABLE 11.1 An Analysis of Bayes’s Theorem—100,000
Households
Anderson_8e_Ch11.indd 263 13/09/14 9:58 AM
264 / Chapter 11 d e C I s I o n M A k I n g
steps prescribed by formal logic. Nonetheless, they do hold various strengths of
belief in assertions such as “My house has been burglarized.” Moreover, their
strength of belief does vary with evidence such as whether the door has been
found ajar. The interesting question is whether the strength of their belief
changes in accord with Bayes’s theorem.
■ Bayes’s theorem specifies how to combine the prior probability
of a hypothesis with the conditional probabilities of the evidence to
determine the posterior probability of a hypothesis.
Base-Rate Neglect
Many people are surprised that the open door in the preceding example does
not provide as much evidence for a burglary as might have been expected. The
reason for the surprise is that they do not grasp the importance of the prior
probabilities. People sometimes ignore prior probabilities. In one demonstra-
tion of this, Kahneman and Tversky (1973) told one group of participants that
a person had been chosen at random from a set of 100 people consisting of
70 engineers and 30 lawyers. This group of participants was termed the
engineer-high group. A second group, the engineer-low group, was told that the
person came from a set of 30 engineers and 70 lawyers. Both groups were asked
to determine the probability that the person chosen at random from the group
would be an engineer, given no information about the person. Participants were
able to respond with the right prior probabilities: The engineer-high group es-
timated .70 and the engineer-low group estimated .30. Then participants were
told that another person, named Jack, had been chosen from the population,
and they were given the following description:
Jack is a 45-year-old man. He is married and has four children. He is
generally conservative, careful, and ambitious. He shows no interest in
political and social issues and spends most of his free time on his many
hobbies, which include home carpentry, sailing, and mathematical
puzzles.
Participants in both groups gave a .90 probability estimate to the hypoth-
esis that this person is an engineer. No difference was displayed between the
two groups, which had been given different prior probabilities for an engineer
hypothesis. But Bayes’s theorem prescribes that prior probability should have a
strong effect, resulting in a higher posterior probability from the engineer-high
group than from the engineer-low group.
In a second case, Kahneman and Tversky presented participants with the
following description:
Dick is a 30-year-old man. He is married with no children. A man of
high ability and high motivation, he promises to be quite successful in
his field. He is well liked by his colleagues.
This example was designed to provide no diagnostic information either
way with respect to Dick’s profession. According to Bayes’s theorem, the
posterior probability of the engineer hypothesis should be the same as the
prior probability because this description is not informative. However, both
the engineer-high and the engineer-low groups estimated that the prob-
ability was .50 that the man described is an engineer. Thus, they allowed a
completely uninformative piece of information to change their probabilities.
Once again, the participants were shown to be completely unable to use prior
probabilities in assessing the posterior probability of a hypothesis.
The failure to take prior probabilities into account can lead people to
make some totally unwarranted conclusions. For instance, suppose you take
Anderson_8e_Ch11.indd 264 13/09/14 9:58 AM
P R o B A B I l I s T I C J u d g M e n T / 265
a diagnostic test for a cancer. Suppose also that this type of cancer, when pre-
sent, results in a positive test 95% of the time. On the other hand, if a person
does not have the cancer, the probability of a positive test result is only 5%. Sup-
pose you are informed that your result is positive. If you are like many people,
you will assume that your chances of dying of cancer are about 95 out of 100
(Hammerton, 1973). You would be overreacting in assuming that the cancer
will be fatal, but you would also be making a fundamental error in probability
estimation. What is the error?
You would have failed to consider the base rate (prior probability) for the
particular type of cancer in question. Suppose only 1 in 10,000 people have
this cancer. This percentage would be your prior probability. Now, with this
information, you would be able to determine the posterior probability of your
having the cancer. Bringing out the Bayesian formula, you would express the
problem in the following way:
where the prior probability of the cancer hypothesis is Prob(H) 5 .0001, and
Prob(~H) 5 .9999, Prob(E|H) 5 .95, and Prob(E|~H) 5 .05. Thus,
That is, the posterior probability of your having the cancer would still be less
than 1 in 500.
■ People often fail to take base rates into account in making
probability judgments.
Conservatism
The preceding examples show that people weigh the evidence too much and
ignore base rates. However, there are also situations in which people do not
weigh evidence enough, particularly as the evidence pointing to a conclu-
sion accumulates. Ward Edwards (1968) extensively investigated how people
use new information to adjust their estimates of the probabilities of various
hypotheses. In one experiment, he presented participants with two bags, each
containing 100 poker chips. Participants were shown that one of the bags con-
tained 70 red chips and 30 blue, while the other contained 70 blue chips and 30
red. The experimenter chose one of the bags at random and the participants’
task was to decide which bag had been chosen.
In the absence of any prior information, the probability of either bag
having been chosen was 50%. Thus,
Prob(HR) 5 .50 and Prob(HB) 5 .50
where HR is the hypothesis of a predominantly red bag and HB is the hypothesis
of a predominantly blue bag. To obtain further information, participants sam-
pled chips at random from the bag. Suppose the first chip drawn was red. The
conditional probability of a red chip drawn from each bag is
Prob(R|HR) 5 .70 and Prob(R|HR) 5 .30
Now, we can calculate the posterior probability of the bag’s being predomi-
nantly red, given the red chip is drawn, by applying the Bayes equation to this
situation:
Prob(H) ● Prob(E|H)
Prob(H) ● Prob(E|H) 1 Prob(~H) ● Prob(E|~H)Prob(H|E) 5
(.0001)(.95)
(.0001)(.95) 1 (.9999)(.05)Prob(H|E) 5 5 .0019
Prob(R|HR) ● Prob(HR)
Prob(R|HR) ● Prob(HR) 1 Prob(R|HB) ● Prob(HB)Prob(R|HR) 5
Anderson_8e_Ch11.indd 265 13/09/14 9:58 AM
266 / Chapter 11 d e C I s I o n M A k I n g
This result seems, to both naive and sophisticated observers, to be a rather
sharp increase in probabilities. Typically, participants do not increase the
probability of a red-majority bag to .70; rather, they make a more conservative
revision to a value such as .60.
After this first drawing, the experiment continues: The poker chip is put
back in the bag and a second chip is drawn at random. Suppose this chip too is
red. Again, by applying Bayes’s theorem, we can show that the posterior prob-
ability of a red bag is now .84. Suppose our observations continued for 10 more
trials and, after all 12 trials, we have observed eight reds and four blues. By con-
tinuing the Bayesian analysis, we could show that the new posterior probabil-
ity of the hypothesis of a red bag is .97. Participants who see this sequence of
12 trials estimate subjectively a posterior probability of only .75 or less for the
red bag. Edwards used the term conservative to refer to the tendency to under-
estimate the full force of available evidence. He estimated that we use between a
fifth and a half of the evidence available to us in situations like this experiment.
■ People frequently underestimate the cumulative force of evidence in
making probability judgments.
Correspondence to Bayes’s Theorem with Experience
All the preceding examples showed that participants can be quite far off in their
judgments of probability. One possibility is that participants really do not un-
derstand probabilities or how to reason with respect to them. Certainly, it is an
unusual participant in these experiments who could reproduce Bayes’s theorem,
let alone who would report engaging in Bayesian calculation. However, there is
evidence that, although participants cannot articulate the correct probabilities,
many aspects of their behavior are in accordance with Bayesian principles. To re-
turn to the explicit-implicit distinction discussed in Chapter 7, people often seem
to display implicit knowledge of Bayesian principles even if they do not display
any explicit knowledge and make errors when asked to make explicit judgments.
Gluck and Bower (1988) performed an experiment that illustrates implicit
Bayesian behavior. Participants were given records of fictitious patients who
could display from one to four symptoms (bloody nose, stomach cramps, puffy
eyes, and discolored gums) and made discriminative diagnoses about which of
two hypothetical diseases the patients had. One of these diseases had a base rate
three times that of the other. Additionally, the conditional probabilities of dis-
playing the various symptoms, given the diseases, were varied. Participants were
not told directly about these base rates or conditional probabilities. They merely
looked at a series of 256 patient records, chose the disease they thought the pa-
tient had, and were given feedback on the correctness of their judgments.
There are 15 possible combinations of one to four symptom patterns that a
patient might have. Gluck and Bower calculated the probability of each disease
for each pattern by using Bayes’s theorem and arranged it so that each disease
occurred with that probability when the symptoms were present. Thus, the
participants experienced the base probabilities and conditional probabilities
implicitly in terms of the frequencies of symptom–disease combinations.
Of interest is the probability with which they assigned the rarer disease to
various symptom combinations. Gluck and Bower compared the participant
probabilities with the true Bayesian probabilities. This correspondence is
displayed by the scatterplot in Figure 11.2. There we have, for each symptom
combination, the Bayesian probability (labeled objective probability) and the
proportion of times that participants assigned the rare disease to that symptom
combination. As can be seen, these points fall very close to a straight diagonal
line with a slope of 1, which indicates that the proportion of the participants’
Anderson_8e_Ch11.indd 266 13/09/14 9:58 AM
P R o B A B I l I s T I C J u d g M e n T / 267
choices were very close to the true probabilities.
Thus, implicitly, the participants had become quite
good Bayesians in this experiment. The behavior of
choosing among alternatives in proportion to their
success is called probability matching.
After the experiment, Gluck and Bower presented
the participants with the four symptoms individu-
ally and asked them how frequently the rare disease
had appeared with each symptom. This result is pre-
sented in Figure 11.3 in a format similar to that of
Figure 11.2. As can be seen, participants showed some
neglect of the base rate, consistently overestimating
the frequency of the rare disease. Still, their judg-
ments show some influence of base rate in that their
average estimated probability of the rare disease is less
than 50%.
Gigerenzer and Hoffrage (1995) showed that
base-rate neglect also decreases if events are stated
in terms of frequencies rather than in terms of
probabilities. Some of their participants were given a description in terms of
probabilities, such as the one that follows:
The probability of breast cancer is 1% for women at age 40 who
participate in routine screening. If a woman has breast cancer, the
probability is 80% that she will get a positive mammography. If a
woman does not have breast cancer, the probability is 9.6% that she
also will get a positive mammography. A woman in this age group
had a positive mammography in a routine screening. What is the
probability that she actually has breast cancer?
Fewer than 20 out of 100 (20%) of the participants given such statements
calculated the correct Bayesian answer (which is about 8%). In the other condi-
tion, participants were given descriptions in terms of frequencies, such as the
one that follows:
Ten out of every 1,000 women at age 40 who participate in routine
screening have breast cancer. Eight of every 10 women with breast can-
cer will get a positive mammography. Ninety-five
out of every 990 women without breast cancer
also will get a positive mammography. Here is a
new representative sample of women at age 40
who got a positive mammography in routine
screening. How many of these women do you ex-
pect to actually have breast cancer?
Almost 50% of the participants given such statements
calculated the correct Bayesian answer. Gigerenzer
and Hoffrage argued that we can reason better with
frequencies than with probabilities because we expe-
rience frequencies of events, but not probabilities, in
our daily lives. However, just what people do in such a
task continues to be debated (Barbey & Sloman, 2007).
There is also evidence that experience makes peo-
ple more statistically tuned. In a study of medical diag-
nosis, Weber, Böckenholt, Hilton, and Wallace (1993)
found that doctors were quite sensitive both to base
rates and to the evidence provided by the symptoms.
.2
.2
0
.4
.6
.8
1.0
.6 .4 .8 1.0
Pr
op
or
tio
n
of
ch
oi
ce
s b
y
su
bj
ec
ts
Objective probability
FIGURE 11.2 Participants’ pro-
portion of choices corresponds
closely to the objective prob-
abilities as determined by Bayes’s
theorem.
.2
.2
0
.4
.6
.8
1.0
.6 .4 .8 1.0
Es
tim
at
ed
p
ro
ba
bi
lit
y
True probability
FIGURE 11.3 Participants’ esti-
mated probabilities systematically
overestimated the frequency of
the rare disease, showing base-
rate neglect.
Anderson_8e_Ch11.indd 267 13/09/14 9:58 AM
268 / Chapter 11 d e C I s I o n M A k I n g
Moreover, the more clinical experience the doctors had, the
more tuned were their judgments.
■ Although participants’ processing of abstract
probabilities often does not correspond with Bayes’s
theorem, their behavior based on experience often
does.
Judgments of Probability
What are participants actually doing when they report
probabilities of an event such as the probability that some-
one who has bloody gums has a particular disease? The
evidence is that rather than thinking about probabilities,
they are thinking about relative frequencies. Thus they are
trying to judge the proportion of the patients that they saw
with bloody gums who had that particular disease. People
are reasonably accurate at making such proportionate judgments when they
do not have to rely on memory (Robinson, 1964; Shuford, 1961). Consider an
experiment by Shuford (1961), who presented arrays such as the one shown
in Figure 11.4 to participants for 1 s. He then asked participants to judge the
proportion of vertical bars relative to horizontal bars. The number of vertical
bars varied from 10% to 90% in different arrays. Shuford’s results are shown
in Figure 11.5, and as can be seen, participants’ estimates are quite close to the
true proportions.
The situation just described is one where the participants can see
the relevant information and make a judgment about proportions. When
participants cannot see events and must recall them from memory, their
judgments may be distorted if they recall too many of one kind from memory.
A fair amount of research has been done on the ways in which participants
can be biased in their estimation of the relative frequency of various events
in the population. Consider the following experiment reported by Tversky
and Kahneman (1974), which demonstrates that judgments of proportion
can be biased by differential availability of examples. These investigators
asked participants to judge the proportion of English words that fit certain
characteristics. For instance, they asked participants to estimate the
proportion of words that begin with the letter k versus words with the letter k
in the third position. How might participants perform this task? One obvious
method is to briefly try to think of words that satisfy the specification and
words that do not and to estimate the relative proportion of target words.
How many words can you think of that begin with the letter k? How many
words can you think of that do not? What is your estimate of their proportion?
Now, how many words can you think of that have the letter k in the third
position? How many words can you think of that do not? What is their
relative proportion? Participants estimated that more words begin with the
letter k than have the letter k in the third position, although, in actual fact,
the opposite is true: three times as many words have the letter k in the third
position as begin with the letter k. Generally, participants overestimate the
frequency with which words begin with various letters.
As in this experiment, many real-life circumstances require that we estimate
probabilities without having direct access to the population that these probabilities
describe. In such cases, we must rely on memory as the source for our estimates.
The memory factors that we studied in Chapters 6 and 7 serve to explain how
such estimates can be biased. Under the reasonable assumption that words are
more strongly associated with their first letter than with their third letter, the bias
FIGURE 11.4 A random matrix
presented to participants to de-
termine their accuracy in judging
proportions. The matrix is 90%
vertical bars and 10% horizon-
tal bars. (From Shuford, E. H.
(1961). Percentage estimation
of proportion as a function of
element type, exposure time, and
task. Journal of experimental Psy-
chology, 61, 430–436. Copyright
© 1961 by the American Psycho-
logical Association. Reprinted by
permission.)
Decision Making
Anderson_8e_Ch11.indd 268 13/09/14 9:58 AM
P R o B A B I l I s T I C J u d g M e n T / 269
exhibited in the experimental results can be explained
by the spreading-activation theory (Chapter 6). With
the focus of attention on the letter k, for example,
activation will spread from that letter to words
beginning with it. This process will tend to make words
beginning with the letter k more available than other
words. Thus, these words will be overrepresented in the
sample that participants take from memory to estimate
the true proportion in the population. The same
overestimation is not made for words with the letter k
in the third position because words are unlikely to be
directly associated with the letters in the third position.
Therefore, these words cannot be associatively primed
and made more available.
Other factors besides memory lead to biases in
probability estimates. Consider another example from
Tversky and Kahneman (1974). Which of the following
sequences of six tosses of a coin (where H denotes
heads and T tails) is more likely: H T H T T H or
H H H H H H? Many people think the first sequence is more probable, but both
sequences are actually equally probable. The probability of the first sequence is the
probability of H on the first toss (which is .50) times the probability of T on the
second toss (which is .50), times the probability of H on the third toss (which is
.50), and so on. The probability of the whole sequence is .50 ● .50 ● .50 ● .50 ● .50
● .50 = .016. Similarly, the probability of the second sequence is the product of the
probabilities of each coin toss, and the probability of a head on each coin toss is
.50. Thus, again, the final probability also is .50 ● .50 ● .50 ● .50 ● .50 ● .50 = .016.
Why do some people have the illusion that the first sequence is more probable?
It is because the first event seems similar to a lot of other events—for example,
H T H T H T or H T T H T H. These similar events serve to bias upward a person’s
probability estimate of the target event. On the other hand, H H H H H H, six
straight heads, seems unlike any other event, and its probability will therefore not
be biased upward by other similar sequences. In conclusion, a person’s estimate of
the probability of an event will be biased by other events that are similar to it.
A related phenomenon is what is called the gambler’s fallacy: the belief
that if an event has not occurred for a while, then it is more likely, by the “law
of averages,” to occur in the near future. This phenomenon can be demon-
strated in an experimental setting—for instance, one in which participants see
a sequence of coin tosses and must guess whether each toss will be a head or
a tail. If they see a string of heads, they become more and more likely to guess
that tails will come up on the next trial. Casino operators count on this fallacy
to help them make money. Players who have had a string of losses at a table
will keep playing, assuming that by the “law of averages” they will experience
a compensating string of wins. However, the game is set in favor of the house.
The dice do not know or care whether a gambler has had a string of losses. The
consequence is that players tend to lose more as they try to recoup their losses.
The “law of averages” is a fallacy.
The gambler’s fallacy can be used to advantage in certain situations—for
instance, at the racetrack. Most racetracks operate by a pari-mutuel system in
which the odds on a horse are determined by the number of people betting
on the horse. By the end of the day, if favorites have won all the races, people
tend to doubt that another favorite can win, and they switch their bets to the
long shots. As a consequence, the betting odds on the favorite deviate from
what they should be, and a person can sometimes make money by betting on
the favorite.
0
20
40
60
80
100
Horizontal
20
Proportion in display
Ju
dg
ed
p
ro
po
rti
on
40 60 80 100
Vertical
FIGURE 11.5 Mean estimated
proportion as a function of the
true proportion. Participants ex-
hibited a fairly accurate ability to
estimate the proportions of verti-
cal and horizontal bars in
Figure 11.5. (From Shuford, E. H.
(1961). Percentage estimation of
proportion as a function of ele-
ment type, exposure time, and
task. Journal of experimental Psy-
chology, 61, 430–436. Copyright
© 1961 by the American Psycho-
logical Association. Reprinted by
permission.)
Anderson_8e_Ch11.indd 269 13/09/14 9:58 AM
270 / Chapter 11 d e C I s I o n M A k I n g
■ People can be biased in their estimates of probabilities when they
must rely on factors such as memory and similarity judgments.
The Adaptive Nature of the Recognition Heuristic
The examples in the previous section focused on cases where people came to
bad judgments by relying on, for example, the availability of events in memory.
Gigerenzer, Todd, and ABC Research Group (1999), in their book Simple Heu-
ristics That Make Us Smart, argue that such cases are the exception and not the
rule. They argue that people tend to identify the most valid cues for making
judgments and use these. For instance, through evolution people have acquired
a tendency to pay attention to availability of events in memory, which is more
often helpful than not.
Goldstein and Gigerenzer (1999, 2002) report studies of what they call the
recognition heuristic, which applies in cases where people recognize one thing
and not another. This heuristic leads people to believe that the recognized item
is bigger and more important than the unrecognized item. In one study, they
looked at the ability of students at the University of Chicago to judge the rela-
tive size of various German cities. For instance, which city is larger—Bamberg
or Heidelberg? Most of the students knew that Heidelberg is a German city,
but most did not recognize Bamberg—that is, one city was available in mem-
ory and the other was not. Goldstein and Gigerenzer showed that when faced
with pairs like this, students almost always picked the city they recognized.
One might think this shows another fallacy based on availability in memory.
However, Goldstein and Gigerenzer showed that the students were actu-
ally more accurate when they made their judgment for pairs of cities like this
(where they recognized one and not the other) than when they were given two
cities they recognized (such as Munich and Hamburg). When they recognized
both cities, they had to use other bases for judging the relative size of the cit-
ies and most American students have little knowledge about the population of
German cities. Thus, far from a fallacy, the recognition heuristic proves to be
an effective strategy for making accurate judgments. Also, American students
do better at judging the relative size of German cities using this heuristic than
either American students do judging American cities or German students do
judging German cities, where this heuristic cannot be used because almost all
the cities are recognized.3 German students do better than American students
in judging the relative size of American cities because they can use the recogni-
tion heuristic and Americans cannot.
Figure 11.6 illustrates Goldstein and Gigerenzer’s explanation for why
these students were more accurate in judging the relative size of two cities
when they did not know one of them. They looked at the frequency with which
German cities were mentioned in the Chicago Tribune and the frequency with
which American cities were mentioned in the German newspaper Die Zeit. It
turns out that there is a strong correlation between the actual size of the city
and the frequency of mention in these newspapers. Not surprisingly, people
read about the larger cities in other countries more frequently. Gigerenzer and
Goldstein also show that there is a strong correlation between the frequency of
mention in the newspapers (and the media more generally) and the probability
3 My German informant (Angela Brunstein) tells me that almost all Germans would recognize Bamberg
and Heidelberg, but many would be puzzled by which is larger. Interestingly, Google search on English
texts reports 37 million hits on Heidelberg and 3.5 million on Bamberg. Google search on German texts
reports 30 million hits on Heidelberg and 12 million on Bamberg—a much closer ratio and many more
hits on Bamberg.
Anderson_8e_Ch11.indd 270 13/09/14 9:58 AM
M A k I n g d e C I s I o n s u n d e R u n C e R TA I n T y / 271
that these students will recognize the name. This is just the basic effect of fre-
quency on memory. As a consequence of these two strong correlations, there
will be a strong correlation between availability in memory and the actual size
of the city.
Goldstein and Gigerenzer argue that the recognition heuristic is useful
in many but not all domains. In some domains, researchers have shown that
people intelligently combine it with other information. For instance, Richter
and Späth (2006) had participants judge which of two animals has the larger
population size. For example, consider the following questions:
Are there more Hainan partridges or arctic hares?
Are there more giant pandas or mottled umbers?
In the first case, most people have heard of arctic hares and not Hainan par-
tridges and would correctly choose arctic hares using the recognition heuristic. In
the second case, most people would recognize giant pandas and not mottled um-
bers (a moth). Nonetheless, they also know giant pandas are an endangered spe-
cies and therefore correctly choose mottled umbers. This is an example of how
people can adaptively choose what aspects of information to pay attention to.
■ People can use their ability to recognize an item, and combine this
with other information, to make good judgments.
◆ Making Decisions Under Uncertainty
So far we have mainly focused on how people assess the probability of various
events. Now we turn to how people come to a decision in the presence of uncer-
tainty. Much of this research has been cast in terms of how people choose between
gambles. Sometimes, the choices that we have to make are easy. If we are offered
the choice of a gamble where we have a 25% chance of winning $100 and another
gamble where we have a 50% chance of winning $1,000, most of us would not
have much difficulty in figuring out which to accept. However, if we were faced
with the choice of a certainty of $400 but only a 50% chance of $1,000, which
would we select then? Something like this situation might arise if we inherited a
Eco
log
ica
l co
rre
lati
on
Mediator
Recognition correlation
.66/.60
.72
/.7
0
.86/.79
Criterion Recognition
Surrogate correlation
FIGURE 11.6 ecological cor-
relation (correlation between
frequency of mention in news-
papers and population size),
surrogate correlation (correlation
between frequency of mention
in newspapers and probability
of recognition), and recognition
correlation (correlation between
probability of recognition and
population size). The first value
is for American cities and the
german newspaper Die Zeit
as mediator, and the second
value is for german cities and
the Chicago Tribune as me-
diator. (From Goldstein, D. G., &
Gigerenzer, G. (2002). Models of
ecological rationality: The recogni-
tion heuristic. Psychological Review,
109, 75–90. Copyright © 2002
American Psychological Associa-
tion. Reprinted by permission.)
Anderson_8e_Ch11.indd 271 13/09/14 9:58 AM
272 / Chapter 11 d e C I s I o n M A k I n g
risky stock that we could cash in for $400 or that we could hold on to and see
whether the company takes offs or folds. A great deal of research on decision
making under uncertainty requires participants to make choices among gambles.
For instance, a participant might be asked to choose between the following two
gambles:
A. $8 with a probability of 1∕3
B. $3 with a probability of 5∕6
In some cases, participants are just asked for their opinions; in other cases, they
actually play the gamble that they choose. As an example of the latter possibility,
a participant might roll a die and win in case A if he gets a 5 or 6 and win in
case B if he gets a number other than 1. Which gamble would you choose?
As in the other domains of reasoning, such decision making has its own
standard prescriptive theory for the way that people should behave in such situ-
ations (von Neumann & Morgenstern, 1944). This theory says that they should
choose the alternative with highest expected value. The expected value of an al-
ternative is to be calculated by multiplying the probability by the value. Thus, the
expected value of alternative A is $8 3 1∕3 5 $2.67, whereas the expected value
of alternative B is $3 3 5∕6 5 $2.50. Thus, the normative theory says that partic-
ipants should select gamble A. However, most participants will select gamble B.
As a perhaps more extreme example of the same result, suppose you are
given a choice between
A. $1 million with a probability of 1
B. $2.5 million with a probability of 1∕2
Maybe, in this case, you are on a game show and are offered a choice between
this great wealth with certainty or the opportunity to toss a coin and get even
more. I (and I assume you) would take the money ($1 million) and run, but
in fact, if we do the expected value calculations, we should prefer the second
choice because its expected value is .5 3 $2.5 million 5 $1.25 million. Are we
really behaving irrationally?
Most people, when asked to justify their behavior in such situations, will
argue that there comes a point when one has enough money (if we could only
convince CEOs of this notion!) and that there really isn’t much difference
for them between $1 million and $2.5 million. This idea has been formal-
ized in the terms of what is referred to as subjective utility—the value that
we place on money is not linear with the face value of the money. Figure 11.7,
which shows a typical function proposed for the relation of subjective utility
to money (Kahneman & Tversky, 1984), has two interesting properties. The
first is that it curves in such a way that the amount of money must more than
double in order to double its utility. Thus, in the preceding example, we may
value $2.5 million only 20% more than $1 million. Let us say that the subjec-
tive utility of $1 million is U. The subjective utility of $2.5 million can then
be expressed as 1.2U. In this case, then, the expected value of
gamble A is 1 3 U 5 U, and the expected value of gamble B is
1∕2 3 1.2U 5 .6U. Thus, in terms of subjective utility, gamble A
is more valuable and is to be preferred.
The second property of this utility function is that it is
steeper in the loss region than in the gain region. For example,
participants might be given the following choice of gambles
A. Gain $10 with 1∕2 probability and lose $10 with 1∕2
probability
B. Nothing with certainty
and most would prefer B because they weigh the loss of $10 more
strongly than the gain of $10.
Value
GainsLosses
FIGURE 11.7 A function that
relates subjective value to
magnitude of gain and loss.
(From Kahneman, D., & Tversky,
A. (1984). Choices, values, and
frames. American Psychologist,
80, 341–350. Copyright © 1984
American Psychological Associa-
tion. Reprinted by permission.)
Anderson_8e_Ch11.indd 272 13/09/14 9:58 AM
M A k I n g d e C I s I o n s u n d e R u n C e R TA I n T y / 273
Kahneman and Tversky (1984) also argued that, as with subjective
utility, people associate a subjective probability with an event that is
not identical with the objective probability. They proposed the function
in Figure 11.8 to relate subjective probability to objective probability.
According to this function, very low probabilities are overweighted
relative to high probabilities, producing a bowing in the function.
Thus, a participant might prefer a 1% chance of $400 to a 2% chance
of $200 because 1% is not represented as half of 2%. Kahneman and
Tversky (1979) showed that a great deal of human decision making can
be explained by assuming that participants are responding in terms of
these subjective utilities and subjective probabilities.
An interesting question is whether the subjective functions
in Figures 11.7 and 11.8 represent irrational tendencies. Generally,
the utility function in Figure 11.7 is thought to be reasonable. As we
get more money, getting even more seems less and less important. Certainly,
the amount of happiness that a billion dollars can buy is not 1,000 times the
amount of happiness that a million dollars can buy. It should be noted that not
everyone’s utility function conforms to what is shown in Figure 11.7, which
represents a sort of average. One can imagine someone needing $10,000 for an
important medical procedure. Then, all sums less than $10,000 would be rather
useless, and all sums greater than $10,000 would be about equally good. Thus,
such a person would have a very large step in the utility function at $10,000.
There is less agreement about how we should assess the subjective proba-
bility function in Figure 11.8. I (J. R. Anderson, 1990) have argued that it might
actually make sense to treat very low probabilities as if they were a bit higher,
like that function does. The argument is that, sometimes when we are told that
probabilities are extreme, we are being misinformed (see the third Question
for Thought at the end of the chapter). However, there is little consensus in the
field about how to evaluate the subjective probability function.
■ People make decisions under uncertainty in terms of subjective
utilities and subjective probabilities.
Framing Effects
Although one might view the functions in Figures 11.7 and 11.8 as reasonable,
there is evidence that they can lead people to do rather strange things. These
demonstrations deal with framing effects. These effects refer to the fact that peo-
ple’s decisions vary, depending on where they perceive themselves to be on the
subjective utility curve in Figure 11.7. Consider this example from Kahneman
and Tversky (1984): A nearby store sells item A for $15 and item B for $125, and
another store, not so nearby, offers the same two items at a $5 discount—item A
for $10 and item B for $120. A person who wants item A is likely to make the effort
to go to the other store, whereas he is not likely to do so for item B. However, in
both cases, he saves the same $5, and the question is simply whether his time is
worth the $5. However, the two contexts place the person on different points of
the utility curve, which is negatively accelerated. According to that curve, the dif-
ference between $15 and $10 is larger than the difference between $125 and $120.
Thus, in the first case, the saving seems worth it, but in the second case, it does not.
Another example has to do with betting behavior. Consider someone who
has lost $140 at the racetrack and has an opportunity to bet $10 on a horse that
will pay 15 to 1. The bettor can view this choice in one of two ways. In one way,
it becomes this choice:
A. Refuse the bet and accept a certainty of losing $140.
B. Make the bet and face a good chance of losing $150 and a poor
chance of breaking even.
Su
bj
ec
tiv
e
pr
ob
ab
ilit
y
Objective probability
0
.5
.5
1.0
1.0
FIGURE 11.8 A function that
relates subjective probability
to objective probability. (From
Kahneman, D., & Tversky, A.
(1984). Choices, values, and
frames. American Psychologist,
80, 341–350. Copyright © 1984
American Psychological Associa-
tion. Reprinted by permission.)
Anderson_8e_Ch11.indd 273 13/09/14 9:58 AM
274 / Chapter 11 d e C I s I o n M A k I n g
Because the subjective difference between losing $140 and $150 is small, the
person will likely choose B and make the bet. On the other hand, the bettor
could view it as the following choice:
C. Refuse the bet and face the certainty of having nothing change.
D. Make the bet and face a good chance of losing an additional $10
and a poor chance of gaining $140.
In this case, because of the greater weight on losses than on gains and because
of the negatively accelerated utility function, the bettor is likely to avoid the bet.
The only difference is whether one places oneself at the 2$140 point or the
0 point on the curve in Figure 11.7. However, one gets a different evaluation of
the two outcomes, depending on where one places oneself.
As an example that appears to be more consequential, consider this situa-
tion described by Kahneman and Tversky (1984):
Problem 1: Imagine that the U.S. is preparing for the outbreak of an
unusual Asian disease, which is expected to kill 600 people. Two alter-
native programs to combat the disease have been proposed. Assume
that the exact scientific estimates of the consequences of the programs
are as follows:
If program A is adopted, 200 people will be saved.
If program B is adopted, there is a one-third probability that 600
people will be saved and a two-thirds probability that no people will be
saved.
Which of the two programs would you favor?
Seventy-two percent of the participants preferred program A, which
guarantees lives, to dealing with the risk of program B. However, consider what
happens when, rather than describing the two programs in regard to saving
lives, the two programs are described as follows:
If program C is adopted, 400 people will die.
If program D is adopted, there is a one-third probability nobody will
die and a two-thirds probability that 600 people will die.
With this description, only 22% preferred program C, which the reader will rec-
ognize as equivalent to A (and D is equivalent to B). Both of these choices can
be understood in terms of a negatively accelerated utility function for lives. In
the first case, the subjective value of 600 lives saved is less than three times the
subjective value of 200 lives saved, whereas in the second case, the subjective
value of 400 deaths is more than two-thirds the subjective value of 600 deaths.
McNeil, Pauker, Sox, and Tversky (1982) found that this tendency extended
to actual medical treatment. What treatment a doctor will choose depends on
whether the treatment is described in terms of odds of living or odds of dying.
Situations in which framing effects are most prevalent tend to have one
thing in common—no clear basis for choice. This commonality is true of the
three examples that we have reviewed. In the case in which the shopper has an
opportunity for a savings, whether $5 is worth going to another store is unclear.
In the gambling example, there is no clear basis for making a decision.4 The
stakes are very high in the third case, but it is, unfortunately, one of those social
policy decisions that defy a clear analysis. Thus, these cases are hard to decide
on their merits alone.
4 That is, there is no basis for making the gambling decision that would not have rejected gambling as
irrational in the first place.
Anderson_8e_Ch11.indd 274 13/09/14 9:58 AM
M A k I n g d e C I s I o n s u n d e R u n C e R TA I n T y / 275
Shafir (1993) suggested that, in such situations, we may make a decision
not on the basis of which decision is actually the best one but on the basis of
which will be easiest to justify (to ourselves or to others). Different framings
make it easier or harder to justify an action. In the disease example, the first
framing focuses one on saving lives and the second framing focuses one on
avoiding deaths. In the first case, one would justify the action by pointing to the
people whose lives have been saved (therefore it is critical that there be some
people to point to). In the second case, a justification would have to explain
why people died (and it would be better if there were no such people).
This need to justify one’s action can lead one to pick the same alternative
whether asked to pick something to accept or something to reject. Consider the
example in Table 11.2 in which two parents are described in a divorce case and
participants are asked to play the role of a judge who must decide to which par-
ent to award custody of the child. In the award condition, participants are asked
to decide who is to be awarded custody; in the deny condition, they are asked to
decide who is to be denied custody. The parents are overall rather equivalent, but
parent B has rather more extreme positive and negative factors. Asked to make
an award decision, more participants choose to award custody to parent B; asked
to make a deny decision, they tend to deny custody, again, to parent B. The rea-
son, Shafir argued, is that parent B offers reasons, such as a close relation with
the child, that can be used to justify the awarding of custody, but parent B also
has reasons, such as time away from home, to justify denying custody of the child
to that parent.
An interesting study in framing was performed by Greene, Sommerville,
Nystrom, Darley, and Cohen (2001). They compared ethical dilemmas such
as the following pair. In the first dilemma, a runaway trolley is headed for
five people who will be killed if it proceeds on its current course. The only
way to save them is to hit a switch that will turn the trolley onto an alter-
nate set of tracks where it will kill one person instead of five. The second
Imagine that you serve on the jury of an only-child sole-custody case following a rela-
tively messy divorce. The facts of the case are complicated by ambiguous economic,
social, and emotional considerations, and you decide to base your decision entirely on
the following few observations.
(Award condition: To which parent would you award sole custody of the child?
deny condition: To which parent would you deny sole custody of the child?)
Decisions
Award Deny
Parent A Average income
Average health
Average working hours
Reasonable rapport with the child
Relatively stable social life
36% 45%
Parent B Above-average income
Very close relation with the child
extremely active social life
lots of work-related travel
Minor health problems
64% 55%
From shafir, e. (1993). Choosing versus rejecting: Why some opinions are both better
and worse than others. Memory & Cognition, 21, 546–556. Copyright © 1993 springer.
Reprinted by permission.
TABLE 11.2
Anderson_8e_Ch11.indd 275 13/09/14 9:58 AM
276 / Chapter 11 d e C I s I o n M A k I n g
dilemma is like the first, except that you are standing next to a large stranger
on a footbridge that spans the tracks in between the oncoming trolley and
the five people. In this scenario, the only way to save the five people is to
push the stranger off the bridge onto the tracks below. He will die, but his
large body will stop the trolley from reaching the others. In the first case,
most people are willing to sacrifice one person to save five, but in the second
case, they are not.
In an fMRI study, Greene et al. compared the brain areas activated when
people considered an impersonal dilemma such as the first case, with the brain
areas activated when people considered a personal dilemma such as the sec-
ond. In the impersonal case, the regions of the parietal cortex that are associ-
ated with cold calculation were active. On the other hand, when they judged
the personal case, regions of the brain associated with emotion (such as the
ventromedial prefrontal cortex that we discussed in the beginning of the chap-
ter) were active. Thus, part of what can be involved in the different framing of
problems seems to be which brain regions are engaged.
■ When there is no clear basis for making a decision, people are
influenced by the way in which the problem is framed.
Why are adolescents more likely
to make bad decisions?
one of society’s great concerns is risk
taking in adolescents. Compared to
older adults, adolescents are more
likely to engage in risky sexual be-
havior, abuse drugs and alcohol, and
drive recklessly. such poor adolescent
choices are the leading cause of
death in adolescence and can lead
to a lifetime of suffering due to such
things as failed education, destroyed
personal relationships, and addic-
tion to cigarettes, alcohol, and other
drugs. This has been a subject of a
great deal of research (e.g., Fischhoff,
2008; Reyna & Farley, 2006), and
the results are a bit surprising. Con-
trary to common belief, adolescents
do not perceive themselves to be any
more invulnerable than older adults
do and often perceive greater danger
from risky behavior than do older
adults. Also in many laboratory stud-
ies, late adolescents often show as
good or better performance as older
adults on abstract tasks of reasoning
and decision making (this will be dis-
cussed further in Chapter 14). Thus,
it does not appear that adolescents
are poorer thinkers about risk than
older adults. Rather, it appears that
the explanation involves two classes
of factors:
1. knowledge and experience.
Adolescents lack some of the
information that adults have.
For instance, adolescents may
know it is important to “prac-
tice safe sex” but not know all
that they should about how to
practice safe sex. Also, through
experience adults have become
experts on reasoning about
risk. Reyna and Farley argue
that adults don’t think through
the potential costs and benefits
of a risky behavior, but rather
they simply recognize the risk
and avoid the situation—just as
the chess masters discussed in
Chapter 9 could recognize the
risk of a potential chess posi-
tion. In contrast, adolescents
often have to try to reason
through the consequences of
a situation, much as a chess
duffer does, and can make
errors in reasoning.
2. different values and situations.
Risky behavior has benefits
such as immediate pleasure,
and adolescents value these
benefits more. Adolescents
are particularly likely to weigh
the benefits of risky behavior
heavily in the context of their
peers, where social acceptance
is at stake. Thus their utilities in
computing expected value are
different. Reyna and Farley spec-
ulate that this is related to the
fact that brain regions like the
ventromedial prefrontal cortex
continue to mature into the
early 20s. Fischhoff also notes
that risky behavior often arises
when adolescents attempt to
establish independence and
personal competence, which
are important to achieve. How-
ever, this can put adolescents
in situations where older adults
seldom find themselves. If
adults found themselves in
similar situations, they might
find themselves also acting in a
more risky manner.
I m p l I c a t I o n s
▼
Ha
lfd
ar
k/
Ge
tty
Im
ag
es
.
▲
Anderson_8e_Ch11.indd 276 13/09/14 9:58 AM
M A k I n g d e C I s I o n s u n d e R u n C e R TA I n T y / 277
Neural Representation of Subjective
Utility and Probability
The subjective utility of an outcome appears to be related to the activity
of dopamine neurons in the basal ganglia. The importance of this region to
motivation has been known since the 1950s, when Olds and Milner (1954)
discovered that rats would press a lever to the point of exhaustion to receive
electrical stimulation from electrodes near this region. This stimulation
caused release of dopamine in a region of the basal ganglia called the nucleus
accumbens. Drugs like heroin and cocaine have their effect by producing in-
creased levels of dopamine from this region. These dopamine neurons show
increased activity for all sorts of positive rewards including basic rewards
like food and sex, but also social rewards like money or sports cars (Camerer,
Loewenstein, & Prelec, 2005). Thus they might appear to be the neural equiva-
lent of subjective utility.
There is an interesting twist to the response of dopamine neurons
(Schultz, 1998). When a reward was unexpectedly presented to monkeys,
their dopamine neurons showed enhanced activity at the time of reward de-
livery. However, when a stimulus preceded the reward that reliably predicted
the reward, the neurons no longer responded to reward delivery. Rather, the
dopamine response transferred to the earlier stimulus. Finally, when a re-
ward was unexpectedly omitted following the stimulus, dopamine neurons
showed depressed activity at the expected time of reward delivery. These ob-
servations motivated the idea that the response of dopamine neurons codes
for a difference in the actual reward and what was expected (Montague,
Dayan, & Sejnowski, 1996). This seems related to the experience that pleas-
ures seem to fade upon repetition in the same circumstance. For instance,
many people report that if they have a great meal at a new restaurant and
return, the next meal is not as good. There are multiple possible explana-
tions for this, but one is that the reward is expected and so the dopamine
response is less.
Most recording of the response of dopamine neurons is done in nonhu-
mans (occasionally they are studied in patients as part of their treatment),
but a number of measures have been found to track their behavior in healthy
humans. One of the most frequently studied is an ERP response called
feedback-related negativity (FRN—more than 200 studies have been run—for
a review read Walsh & Anderson, 2012). If the reward is less than expected,
there is increased negativity in the ERP response 200–350 ms after the reward
is delivered; if it is greater than expected, the ERP response is more positive.
Other studies have looked at fMRI (e.g., O’Doherty et al., 2004; McClure,
Laibson, Loewenstein, & Cohen, 2004), and generally there is a stronger re-
sponse in areas that contain dopamine neurons when the reward deviates
from expectation.
The fact that dopamine neurons respond to changes from expectation
implies a learning component, because their response is relative to a learned
expectation. Their response has been associated with a popular learning tech-
nique in artificial intelligence called reinforcement learning (Holyroyd &
Coles, 2002). This is a mechanism for learning what actions to take in a novel
environment through experience. A recent FRN study by a graduate student
of mine (Walsh & Anderson, 2011) produced a striking demonstration of how
experience-based (and stupid) this reinforcement learning can be. He had
participants learn a simple task where they were shown two repeating stim-
uli and had to choose one. Sometimes their choice was rewarded, and they
were motivated to choose the one that was rewarded more often. The critical
manipulation was whether the participants were told at the beginning what
Anderson_8e_Ch11.indd 277 13/09/14 9:58 AM
278 / Chapter 11 d e C I s I o n M A k I n g
the better stimulus was or had to learn it from experience. Not surprisingly, if
told which stimulus was better, they chose it from the start. If they were not
told, it took them a while to learn the better stimulus. However, their FRN
showed no difference between the two conditions. Whether participants had
been told the correct response or not, the FRN started out responding identi-
cally to the two stimuli. Only with time did it come to respond stronger when
the reward (or lack of reward) for that stimulus was unexpected. So even
though their choice behavior responded immediately to instruction, their
FRN showed a slow learning process. It is as if their minds knew but their
hearts had to learn.
It is generally thought that the ventromedial prefrontal cortex is respon-
sible for a more reflective processing of rewards, while the dopamine neurons
in the basal ganglia are responsible for a more reflexive processing of rewards.
A number of neural imaging studies seem consistent with this interpretation.
In one fMRI study, Knutson, Taylor, Kaufman, Peterson, and Glover (2005)
presented participants with various uncertain outcomes. For instance, on one
trial participants might be told that they had a 50% chance of winning $5; on
another trial that they had a 50% chance of winning $1. Knutson et al. imaged
the brain activity associated with each such gamble. The magnitude of the
fMRI response in the nucleus accumbens in the basal ganglia reflected the
differential magnitude of these rewards. However, this region does not respond
differently to information about probability of reward. For instance, it did not
respond differently when participants were told on one trial that they had an
80% probability of a reward versus a 20% probability on another trial. In con-
trast, the ventromedial prefrontal cortex responded to probability of the reward.
Figure 11.9 illustrates the contrasting response of these regions to reward mag-
nitude and reward probability.
Although the Knutson et al. study found the ventromedial prefrontal re-
gion only responding to probabilities, other research finds it responds to mag-
nitude as well. It is generally thought to be involved in the integration of the
probability of succeeding in an action and the possible reward of success—that
is, it is a key decision-making region. The ventromedial region is that portion
that was destroyed in Phineas Gage (see Figure 11.1), and his problems went
beyond judging probabilities. Subsequent research has confirmed that people
(a)
20.20
0.20
NAcc
cue ant rsp
MPFC
**
*
0.15
0.10
0.05
0
20.05
20.10
20.15
14121086420
Seconds
%
si
gn
al
ch
an
ge
(S
EM
)
(b)
20.20
0.20
0.15
0.10
0.05
0
20.05
20.10
20.15
14121086420
Seconds
%
si
gn
al
ch
an
ge
(S
EM
) *
1$5.00/50%
1$1.00/50%
1$5.00/80%
1$5.00/20%
FIGURE 11.9 (a) The magnitude of a reward is represented in the activity of the
nucleus accumbens; (b) the probability of a reward is represented in the activity of the
ventromedial prefrontal cortex. (From Knutson, B., Taylor, J., Kaufman, M., Peterson, R., &
Glover, G. (2005). Distributed neural representation of expected value. Journal of neurosci-
ence, 25, 4806–4812. Copyright © 2005 Society for Neuroscience. Reprinted by permission.)
Anderson_8e_Ch11.indd 278 13/09/14 9:58 AM
C o n C l u s I o n s / 279
who have damage to this region do have diffi-
culty in responding adaptively in situations where
they experience good and bad outcomes with dif-
ferent probabilities. For instance, this has been
studied extensively in a task known as the Iowa
gambling task (Bechara, Damasio, Damasio, &
Anderson, 1994; Bechara, Damasio, Tranel, &
Damasio, 2005), illustrated in Figure 11.10. The
participants choose cards from four decks. In this
version of the problem, decks A and B are equiva-
lent and decks C and D are equivalent. Every time
one selects from deck A or B, the participant will
gain $100 dollars but 1 time out of 10 will also
lose $1,250 dollars. So, applying our formula for
expected value, the expected value of selecting a
card from one of these decks is
$100 2 0.1 3 $1,250 5 2$25
or equivalently if participants play these decks for 10 trials, they can expect to
lose $250. Every time they select a card from decks C and D, they get only $50,
but they also only lose $250 on that 1 out of every 10 draws. The expected value
of selecting from one of these desks is
$50 2 0.1 3 $250 5 1$25
and so choosing from these decks, participants can expect to make $250 every
10 trials. Players are initially attracted to decks A and B because of their higher
payoff, but normal participants eventually learn to avoid them. In contrast,
patients with ventromedial damage keep coming back to the high-paying decks.
Also, unlike normal participants, they do not show measures of emotional
engagement (such as increased galvanic skin response) when they choose from
these dangerous decks.
■ Dopamine activity in the nucleus accumbens reflects the magnitude
of reward, whereas the human ventromedial cortex is involved in
integrating probabilities with reward.
◆ Conclusions
Decision making deals with choosing actions that can have real consequences
in the presence of real uncertainty. All mammals have the dopamine system
that we just described, which gives them a basic ability to seek things that are
rewarding and avoid things that are harmful. However, humans, by virtue of
their greatly expanded prefrontal cortex, have the capacity to reflect on their
circumstances and select actions other than what their more primitive systems
might urge. Research suggests that the ventromedial portion of the human
prefrontal cortex, which is greatly expanded in size even in comparison to the
genetically similar apes, might play a particularly important role in such regu-
lation. Humans attempt acts of self-regulation—for example, diet plans—that
are far beyond the reach of any other species. However, we live in an uncertain
world, as witnessed by all the contradictory claims made for various diet plans.
Perhaps if we understood better how people responded to such uncertainty and
contradiction, we would also be in a better position to understand why there
are so many failures of our good resolutions.
“Bad” decks
The Iowa Gambling Task
A B C D
Gain per card $100
$1,250
�$250
$100
$1,250
�$250
$50
$250
�$250
$50
$250
�$250
Loss per 10 cards
Net per 10 cards
“Good” decks
FIGURE 11.10 A schematic dia-
gram of the Iowa gambling task.
The participants are given four
decks of cards, a loan of $2,000
facsimile u.s. bills, and asked
to play so as to win the most
money. Turning each card carries
an immediate reward ($100 in
decks A and B and $50 in decks
C and d). unpredictably, how-
ever, the turning of some cards
also carries a penalty (which is
large in decks A and B and small
in decks C and d). Playing mostly
from decks A and B leads to an
overall loss. Playing mostly from
decks C and d leads to an overall
gain. (Reprinted from Bechara,
A., Damasio, H., Tranel, D., &
Damasio, A. R. (2005). The Iowa
Gambling Task and the somatic
marker hypothesis: Some questions
and answers. Trends in Cognitive
sciences, 9, 159–162. Copyright ©
2005 with permission of Elsevier.)
Anderson_8e_Ch11.indd 279 13/09/14 9:58 AM
280 / Chapter 11 d e C I s I o n M A k I n g
Key Terms
Bayes’s theorem
conditional probability
descriptive model
framing effects
gambler’s fallacy
posterior probability
prescriptive model
prior probability
probability matching
recognition heuristic
subjective probability
subjective utility
ventromedial prefrontal
cortex
Questions for Thought
1. Consider the Monty
Hall problem:
Suppose you’re on
a game show, and
you’re given the choice of three doors: Behind one
door is a car; behind the others, goats. You pick
a door—for example, door 1—and the host, who
knows what’s behind the doors, opens another
door—for example, door 3—that has a goat. He
then says to you, “Do you want to pick door 2?”
Is it to your advantage to switch your choice?
(Whitaker, 1990, p. 16)
This can be analyzed using the following form of
Bayes’s theorem:
Where P(H2|E3) is the probability that the car
is behind door 2 given that the host has opened
door 3. P(H1), P(H2), and P(H3) are the prior
probabilities that the car is behind each door
and all three are 1∕3. P(E3|H1), P(E3|H2), and
P(E3|H3) are the conditional probabilities that
the host opens each door given each hypothesis.
In calculating these probabilities, keep in mind
that the host cannot open the door you chose and
must open a door that has a goat.
2. Conservatism and base-rate neglect seem to be
in conflict (Fischhoff & Beyth-Marom, 1983;
Gigerenzer et al., 1989). Conservatism says that
people pay too little attention to data, whereas
base-rate neglect says they only pay attention to
evidence and ignore base rates. Could the con-
tradiction be explained by differences between
studies like Edwards’s that show conservatism and
those like Kahneman and Tversky’s that demon-
strate base-rate neglect?
3. Consult the Web site http://www.rense.com/
general81/dw.htm for a list of things that people
said would never happen. What does this imply
about what our subjective probability should be
when someone informs us that the objective prob-
ability is 0?
4. In the 1980s, it used to be recommended that a
pregnant woman 35 years or older be tested to
find out whether the fetus had Down syndrome.
The logic behind this recommendation was that
the probability of having a Down syndrome baby
increases with age and is about 1∕250 for when
the expectant mother is age 35, whereas the
probability of the procedure resulting in a miscar-
riage was also 1∕250. Analyze the assumptions
behind this decision-making criterion used in the
1980s in terms of the expected-value calculations
described in this chapter. Do you agree with the
recommendation?
5. The Nobel laureate Daniel Kahneman (2011) has
written a book called Thinking, Fast and Slow in
which he argues (as have other scientists—see
discussion of dual-process theories in the previous
chapter) that there are two systems for decision
making. The fast system runs on instinct and sim-
ple association, whereas the slow system satisfies
the prescriptive norms for decision making. The
fast system is always present making judgments,
while the slow system is only brought to bear on
a task with effort. How would you interpret the
phenomena in this chapter in terms of these two
systems?
P(H2)P(E3|H2)
P(H1)P(E3|H1) 1 P(H2)P(E3|H2) 1 P(H3)P(E3|H3)
P(H2|E3) 5
Monty Hall Problem
Anderson_8e_Ch11.indd 280 13/09/14 9:58 AM
http://www.rense.com/
281
12
Language Structure
What makes the human species special? There are two basic hypotheses about
why people are intellectually different from other species. In the past few
chapters, I indulged my favorite theory, which is that we have unmatched abilities
to solve problems and reason about our world, owing in large part to the enormous
development of our prefrontal cortex. However, there is another theory at least as
popular in cognitive science, which is that humans are special because they alone
possess language.
This chapter and the next will analyze in more detail what language is, how
people process language, and what makes human language so special. This chapter
will focus primarily on the nature of language in general, whereas the next chapter
will contain more detailed analyses of how language is processed. We will consider
some of the basic linguistic ideas about the structure of language and evidence for
the psychological reality of these ideas, as well as research and speculation about
the relation between language and thought. We will also look at the research on
language acquisition. Much of the evidence both for and against claims about the
uniqueness of human language comes from research on the way in which children
learn the structure of language.
In this chapter, we will answer the questions:
● What does the field of linguistics tell us about how language is processed?
● What distinguishes human language from the communication systems of other
species?
● How does language influence the nature of human thought?
● How are children able to acquire a language?
◆ Language and the Brain
The human brain has features strongly associated with language. For almost all
of the 92% of people who are right-handed, language is strongly lateralized in
the left hemisphere. About half of the 8% of people who are left-handed still
have language left lateralized. So 96% of the population has language largely in
the left hemisphere. Findings from studies with split-brain patients (see
Chapter 1) have indicated that the right hemisphere has only the most
rudimentary language abilities. It was once thought that the left hemisphere
was larger, particularly in areas taking part in language processing, and that this
greater size accounted for the greater linguistic abilities associated with the left
hemisphere. However, neuroimaging techniques have suggested that the differ-
ences in size are negligible, and researchers are now looking to see whether
there are differences in neural connectivity or organization in the left
Anderson_8e_Ch12.indd 281 13/09/14 9:58 AM
282 / Chapter 12 L a n g u a g e S T r u C T u r e
hemisphere (Gazzaniga, Ivry, & Mangun, 2002). It remains largely a mystery
what differences between the left and the right hemispheres could account for
why language is so strongly left lateralized.
Certain regions of the left hemisphere are specialized for language, and
these are illustrated in Figure 12.1. These areas were initially identified in stud-
ies of patients who suffered aphasias (losses of language function) as a conse-
quence of stroke. The first such area was discovered by Paul Broca, the French
surgeon who, in 1861, examined the brain of such a patient after the patient’s
death (the brain is still preserved in a Paris museum). This patient was basically
incapable of spoken speech, although he understood much of what was spoken
to him. He had a large region of damage in a prefrontal area that came to be
known as Broca’s area. As can be seen in Figure 12.1, it is next to the motor re-
gion that controls the mouth. Shortly thereafter, Carl Wernicke, a German phy-
sician, identified patients with severe deficits in understanding speech who had
damage in a region in the superior temporal cortex posterior to the primary au-
ditory cortex. This area came to be known as Wernicke’s area. Parietal regions
close to Wernicke’s area (the supramarginal gyrus and angular gyrus) have also
been found to be important to language.
Two of the classic aphasias, now known as Broca’s aphasia and Wernicke’s
aphasia, are associated with damage to these two regions. Chapter 1 gave examples
of the kinds of speech problems suffered by patients with these two aphasias.
The severity of the damage determines whether patients with Broca’s aphasia
are unable to generate almost any speech (like Broca’s original patient) or capa-
ble of generating meaningful but ungrammatical speech. Patients with Wernicke’s
aphasia, in addition to having problems with comprehension, sometimes produce
grammatical but meaningless speech.
Although the importance of these left-cortical areas to speech is well docu-
mented and there are many well-studied cases of aphasia resulting from dam-
age in these regions, it has become increasingly apparent that there is no simple
mapping of damaged areas onto types of aphasia. Current research has focused
on more detailed analyses of the deficits and of the regions damaged in each
aphasic patient.
Although there is much still to understand, it is a fact that human evolu-
tion and development have selected certain left-cortical regions as the pre-
ferred locations for language. It is not the case, however, that language has to be
left lateralized. Some left-handers have language in the right hemisphere, and
Broca’s area
Wernicke’s area
Supramarginal gyrus
Angular gyrus
Motor face area
Primary auditory area
Brain StructuresFIGURE 12.1 a lateral view of
the left hemisphere. Some of
the brain areas implicated in
language are in boldface type.
(From Dronkers, N., Redfern, B.,
& Knight, R. (2000). The neural
architecture of language disor-
ders. In M. Gazzaniga (Ed.), The
new cognitive neurosciences
(2nd ed., Figure 65.1, p. 950).
Copyright © 1999 Massachusetts
Institute of Technology, by permis-
sion of The MIT Press.)
Anderson_8e_Ch12.indd 282 13/09/14 9:58 AM
T H e F I e L d o F L I n g u I S T I C S / 283
young children who suffer left-brain damage may develop language in the right
hemisphere, in regions that are homologous to those depicted in Figure 12.1 for
the left hemisphere. Also it is worth noting that lateralization appears in ape
brains, although they do not have anything like human language.
■ Language is preferentially localized in the left hemisphere in pre-
frontal regions (Broca’s area), temporal regions (Wernicke’s area),
and parietal regions (supramarginal and angular gyri).
◆ The Field of Linguistics
The academic field of linguistics attempts to characterize the nature of lan-
guage. It is distinct from psychology in that it studies the structure of natural
languages rather than the way in which people process natural languages. De-
spite this difference, the work from linguistics has been extremely influential
in the psychology of language. As we will see, concepts from linguistics play an
important role in theories of language processing. As noted in Chapter 1, the
influence from linguistics was important to the decline of behaviorism and the
rise of modern cognitive psychology.
Productivity and Regularity
The linguist focuses on two aspects of language: its productivity and its regu-
larity. The term productivity refers to the fact that an infinite number of
utterances are possible in any language. Regularity refers to the fact that these
utterances are systematic in many ways. We need not seek far to convince our-
selves of the highly productive and creative character of language. Pick a ran-
dom sentence from this book or any other book of your choice and enter it as
an exact string (quoting it) in Google. If Google can find the sentence in all of
its billions of pages, it will probably either be from a copy of the book or a quote
from the book. In fact, these sorts of methods are used by programs to catch
plagiarism. Most sentences you will find in books were created only once in hu-
man history. And yet it is important to realize that the components that make
up sentences are quite small in number: English uses only 26 letters, 40 pho-
nemes (see the discussion in the Speech Recognition section of Chapter 2), and
some tens of thousands of words. Nevertheless, with these components, we can
and do generate trillions of novel sentences.
A look at the structure of sentences makes clear why this productivity is
possible. Natural language has facilities for endlessly embedding structures
within structures and coordinating structures with structures. A mildly amusing
party game starts with a simple sentence and requires participants to keep adding
to the sentence:
● The girl hit the boy.
● The girl hit the boy and he cried.
● The big girl hit the boy and he cried.
● The big girl hit the boy and he cried loudly.
● The big girl hit the boy who was misbehaving and he cried loudly.
● The big girl with authoritarian instincts hit the boy who was misbehaving
and he cried loudly.
And so on until someone can no longer extend the sentence.
The fact that an infinite number of word strings can be generated would
not be particularly interesting in itself. If we have tens of thousands of words for
each position, and if sentences can be of any length, it is not hard to see that a
Anderson_8e_Ch12.indd 283 13/09/14 9:58 AM
284 / Chapter 12 L a n g u a g e S T r u C T u r e
very large (in fact, an infinite) number of word strings is possible. However, if
we merely combine words at random, we get “sentences” such as
● From runners physicians prescribing miss a states joy rests what thought
most.
In fact, only a tiny fraction of possible word combinations are acceptable sen-
tences. The speculation is often jokingly made that, given enough monkeys
working at typewriters for a long enough time, some monkey will type a best-
selling book. It should be clear that it would take a lot of monkeys a long time
to type just one acceptable *R@!#s.
So, balanced against the productivity of language is its highly regular char-
acter. One goal of linguistics is to discover a set of rules that will account for
both the productivity and the regularity of natural language. Such a set of rules
is referred to as a grammar. A grammar should be able to prescribe or generate
all the acceptable utterances of a language and be able to reject all the unaccep-
table sentences in the language. A grammar consists of three types of rules—
syntactic, semantic, and phonological. Syntax concerns word order and inflec-
tion. Consider the following examples of sentences that violate syntax:
● The girls hits the boys.
● Did hit the girl the boys?
● The girl hit a boys.
● The boys were hit the girl.
These sentences are fairly meaningful but contain some mistakes in word com-
binations or word forms.
Semantics concerns the meaning of sentences. Consider the following sen-
tences that contain semantic violations, even though the words are correct in
form and syntactic position:
● Colorless green ideas sleep furiously.1
● Sincerity frightened the cat.
These constructions are called anomalous sentences in that they are syntacti-
cally well formed but nonsensical.
Phonology concerns the sound structure of sentences. Sentences can be
correct syntactically and semantically but be mispronounced. Such sentences
are said to contain phonological violations. Consider this example:
The Inspector opened his notebook. “Your name is Halcock, is’t no?”
he began. The butler corrected him. “H’alcock,” he said, reprovingly.
“H, a, double-l?” suggested the Inspector. “There is no h’aich in the
name, young man. H’ay is the first letter, and there is h’only one h’ell.”
(Sayers, 1968, p. 73)
The butler, wanting to hide his cockney dialect, which drops the letter h, is
systematically mispronouncing every word that begins with a vowel.
■ The goal of linguistics is to discover a set of rules that captures the
structural regularities in a language.
Linguistic Intuitions
A major goal of linguistics is to explain the linguistic intuitions of speakers of a
language. Linguistic intuitions are judgments about the nature of linguistic
1 This first sentence is so famous in linguistics that my Google search of the string had more than 70,000
hits.
Anderson_8e_Ch12.indd 284 13/09/14 9:58 AM
T H e F I e L d o F L I n g u I S T I C S / 285
utterances or about the relations between linguistic utterances. Speakers of the lan-
guage are often able to make these judgments without knowing how they do so.
As such, linguistic intuition is another example of implicit knowledge, a concept
introduced in Chapter 7. Among these linguistic intuitions are judgments about
whether sentences are ill-formed and, if ill-formed, why. For instance, we can
judge that some sentences are ill-formed because they have bad syntactic structure
and that other sentences are ill-formed because they lack meaning. Linguists re-
quire that a grammar capture this distinction and clearly express the reasons for it.
Another kind of intuition is about paraphrase. A speaker of English will judge that
the following two sentences are similar in meaning and hence are paraphrases:
● The girl hit the boy.
● The boy was hit by the girl.
Yet another kind of intuition is about ambiguity. The following sentence has
two meanings:
● They are cooking apples.
This sentence can either mean that some people are cooking some apples or
that the apples can be used for cooking.2 Moreover, speakers of the language
can distinguish this type of ambiguity, which is called structural ambiguity,
from lexical ambiguity, as in
● I am going to the bank.
where bank can refer either to a monetary institution or to a riverbank. Lexical
ambiguities arise when a word has two or more distinct meanings; structural
ambiguities arise when an entire phrase or sentence has two or more meanings.
■ Linguists try to account for the intuitions we have about para-
phrases, ambiguity, and the well-formedness of sentences.
Competence Versus Performance
Our everyday use of language does not always correspond to the prescriptions
of linguistic theory. We generate sentences in conversation that, upon reflection,
we would judge to be ill-formed and unacceptable. We hesitate, repeat ourselves,
stutter, and make slips of the tongue. We misunderstand the meaning of sen-
tences. We hear sentences that are ambiguous but do not note their ambiguity.
Another complication is that linguistic intuitions are not always clear-cut.
For instance, we find the linguist Lakoff (1971) telling us that, in the following
case, the first sentence is not acceptable but the second sentence is:
● Tell John where the concert’s this afternoon.
● Tell John that the concert’s this afternoon.
People are not always reliable in their judgments of such sentences and cer-
tainly do not always agree with Lakoff.
Considerations about the unreliability of human linguistic behavior and
judgment led linguist Noam Chomsky (1965) to make a distinction between
linguistic competence, a person’s abstract knowledge of the language, and lin-
guistic performance, the actual application of that knowledge in speaking or
listening. In Chomsky’s view, the linguist’s task is to develop a theory of compe-
tence; the psychologist’s task is to develop a theory of performance.
2 For much more humorous versions of such ambiguity, search for the website with the strings “ambiguity
in newspaper headlines” and “fun with words.”
Anderson_8e_Ch12.indd 285 13/09/14 9:58 AM
286 / Chapter 12 L a n g u a g e S T r u C T u r e
The exact relation between a theory of competence and a theory of
performance is unclear and can be the subject of heated debates. Chomsky
has argued that a theory of competence is central to performance—that our
linguistic competence underlies our ability to use language, if indirectly. Others
believe that the concept of linguistic competence is based on a rather unnatural
activity (making linguistic judgments) and has very little to do with language use.
■ Linguistic performance does not always correspond to linguistic
competence.
◆ Syntactic Formalisms
A major contribution of linguistics to the psychological study of language
has been to provide a set of concepts for describing the structure of language.
The most frequently used ideas from linguistics concern descriptions of the
syntactic structure of language.
Phrase Structure
A great deal of emphasis in linguistics has been given to understanding the
syntax of natural language. One central linguistic concept is phrase structure.
Phrase-structure analysis is not only significant in linguistics, but it is also impor-
tant to an understanding of language processing. Therefore, coverage of this topic
here is partly a preparation for material in the next chapter. Those of you who
have had a certain kind of training in high-school English will find the analysis
of phrase structure to be similar what might have been called “a parsing exercise.”
The phrase structure of a sentence is the hierarchical division of the sen-
tence into units called phrases. Consider this sentence:
● The brave dog saved the drowning child.
If asked to divide this sentence into two major parts in the most natural way,
most people would provide the following division:
● (The brave dog) (saved the drowning child).
The parentheses distinguish the two separate parts. The two parts of the sen-
tence correspond to what are traditionally called subject and predicate or noun
phrase and verb phrase. If asked to divide the second part, the verb phrase, fur-
ther, most people would give
● (The brave dog) (saved [the drowning child]).
Often, analysis of a sentence is represented as an upside-down tree, as in
Figure 12.2. In this phrase-structure tree, sentence points to its subunits, the
noun phrase and the verb phrase, and each of these units points to its subu-
nits. Eventually, the branches of the tree terminate in the individual words.
Such tree-structure representations are common in linguistics. In fact, the term
phrase structure is often used to refer to such tree structures.
An analysis of phrase structure can point up structural ambiguities. Con-
sider again the sentence
● They are cooking apples.
Whether cooking is part of the verb with are or part of the noun phrase with
apples determines the meaning of the sentence. Figure 12.3 illustrates the
phrase structure for these two interpretations. In Figure 12.3a, cooking is part of
the verb, whereas in Figure 12.3b, it is part of the noun phrase.
Anderson_8e_Ch12.indd 286 13/09/14 9:58 AM
S y n Ta C T I C F o r M a L I S M S / 287
■ Phrase-structure analysis is concerned with the way that sentences
are broken up into linguistic units.
Pause Structure in Speech
Abundant evidence supports the argument that phrase structures play a key
role in the generation of sentences.3 When a person produces a sentence, he or
she tends to generate it a phrase at a time, pausing at the boundaries between
large phrase units. For instance, no tape recorders were available in Lincoln’s
time, but if actor Sam Waterson correctly re-enacted it,4 Lincoln produced the
The brave dog saved the downing child.
Sentence
Verb pharse
Article Adj Noun Verb Noun phrase
Article Adj Noun
Noun phrase
FIGURE 12.2 an example of the phrase structure of a sentence. The tree structure
illustrates the hierarchical division of the sentence into phrases.
(a)
They are cooking apples.
Sentence
Noun phrase Verb phrase
Noun phrase
Aux Noun
Verb
Verb
(b)
They are cooking apples.
Pronoun
Sentence
Noun phrase
Noun phrase
Adj Noun
Verb
Verb phrase
Pronoun
FIGURE 12.3 The phrase structures illustrating the two possible meanings of the ambigu-
ous sentence. They are cooking apples: (a) that those people (they) are cooking apples;
(b) that those apples are for cooking.
3 In Chapter 13, we will examine the role of phrase structures in language comprehension.
4 Listen to Actor Sam Waterston’s reading of the speech on NPR: Search for “NPR” and “A Reading of the
Gettysburg Address.”
Anderson_8e_Ch12.indd 287 13/09/14 9:58 AM
288 / Chapter 12 L a n g u a g e S T r u C T u r e
first sentence of “The Gettysburg Address” with a brief pause at the end of each
of the major phrases as follows:
Four score and seven years ago (pause)
our forefathers brought forth on this continent a new nation (pause)
conceived in liberty (pause)
and dedicated to the proposition (pause)
that all men are created equal (pause)
Although Lincoln’s actual speeches are not available for auditory analysis,
Boomer (1965) analyzed examples of spontaneous speech and found that
pauses did occur more frequently at junctures between major phrases and that
these pauses were longer than pauses at other locations. The average pause
time between major phrases was 1.03 s, whereas the average pause within
phrases was 0.75 s. This finding suggests that speakers tend to produce sen-
tences a phrase at a time and often need to pause after one phrase to plan the
next. Other researchers (Cooper & Paccia-Cooper, 1980; Grosjean, Grosjean,
& Lane, 1979) looked at participants producing prepared sentences rather than
spontaneous speech. The pauses of such participants tend to be much shorter,
about 0.2 s. Still, the same pattern holds, with longer pauses at the major phrase
boundaries.
As Figures 12.2 and 12.3 illustrate, there are multiple levels of phrases
within phrases within phrases. What level do speakers choose for breaking up
their sentences into pause units? Gee and Grosjean (1983) argued that speakers
tend to choose the smallest level above the word that bundles together coher-
ent semantic information. In English, this level tends to be noun phrases (e.g.,
the young woman), verbs plus pronouns (e.g., will have been reading it), and
prepositional phrases (e.g., in the house).
■ People tend to pause briefly after each meaningful unit of speech.
Speech Errors
Other research has found evidence for phrase structure by looking at errors in
speech. Maclay and Osgood (1959) analyzed spontaneous recordings of speech
and found a number of speech errors that suggested that phrases do have a
psychological reality. They found that, when speakers repeated themselves or
corrected themselves, they tended to repeat or correct a whole phrase. For in-
stance, the following kind of repeat is found:
● Turn on the heater/the heater switch.
and the following pair constitutes a common type of correction:
● Turn on the stove/the heater switch.
In the preceding example, the noun phrase “the stove” is corrected with “the
heater switch.” It is a whole noun phrase that is used in the correction, not more
or less. Thus, speakers do not correct themselves:
● Turn on the stove/on the heater switch. (more than the noun phrase)
● Turn on the stove/heater switch. (less than the noun phrase)
Other kinds of speech errors also provide evidence for the psychological real-
ity of phrases as major units of speech generation. For instance, some research
has analyzed slips of the tongue in speech (Fromkin, 1971, 1973; Garrett, 1975).
One kind of speech error is called a spoonerism, after the English clergyman
Anderson_8e_Ch12.indd 288 13/09/14 9:58 AM
S y n Ta C T I C F o r M a L I S M S / 289
William A. Spooner to whom are attributed some colossal and clever errors of
speech. Among the errors of speech attributed to Spooner are:
● You have hissed all my mystery lectures.
● I saw you fight a liar in the back quad; in fact, you have tasted the whole
worm.
● I assure you the insanitary spectre has seen all the bathrooms.
● Easier for a camel to go through the knee of an idol.
● The Lord is a shoving leopard to his flock.
● Take the flea of my cat and heave it at the louse of my mother-in-law.
As illustrated here, spoonerisms consist of exchanges of sound between words.
There is some reason to suspect that the preceding errors were deliberate at-
tempts at humor by Spooner. However, people do generate genuine spooner-
isms, although they are seldom as funny.
By patient collecting, researchers have gathered a large set of errors made
by friends and colleagues. Some of these errors are simple sound anticipations
and some are sound exchanges as in spoonerisms:
● Take my bike → bake my bike [an anticipation]
● night life → nife lite [an exchange]
● beast of burden → burst of beaden [an exchange]
One that gives me particular difficulty is
● coin toss → toin coss
The first error in the preceding list is an example of an anticipation, where
an early phoneme is changed to a later phoneme. The others are examples of
exchanges in which two phonemes switch. The interesting feature about these
kinds of errors is that they tend to occur within a single phrase rather than
across phrases. So, we are unlikely to find an anticipation, like the following,
which occurs between subject and object noun phrases:
● The dancer took my bike. → The bancer took my dike.
Also unlikely are sound exchanges where an exchange occurs between the ini-
tial prepositional phrase and the final noun phrase, as in the following:
● At night John lost his life. → At nife John lost his lite.
Garrett (1990) distinguished between errors in simple sounds and those
in whole words. Sound errors occur at what he called the positional level,
which basically corresponds to a single phrase, whereas word errors occur
at what he called the functional level, which corresponds to a larger unit
of speech such as a full clause. Thus, the following word error has been
observed:
● That kid’s mouse makes a great toy. → That kid’s toy makes a great mouse.
whereas the following sound error would be unlikely:
● That kid’s mouse makes a great toy. → That kid’s touse makes a great
moy.
In Garrett’s (1980) corpus, 83% of all word exchanges extended beyond phrase
boundaries, but only 13% of sound errors did. Word and sound errors are gen-
erally thought to occur at different levels in the speech production process.
Words are inserted into the speech plan at a higher level of planning, and so a
larger distance is possible for the substitution.
Anderson_8e_Ch12.indd 289 13/09/14 9:58 AM
290 / Chapter 12 L a n g u a g e S T r u C T u r e
An experimental procedure has been developed for artificially producing
spoonerisms in the laboratory (Baars, Motley, & MacKay, 1975; Motley,
Camden, & Baars, 1982). This involves presenting a series of word pairs like
Big Dog
Bad Deal
Beer Drum
**Darn Bore**
House Coat
Whale Watch
and asking the participants to speak certain words such as the asterisked Darn
Bore in the above series. When they have been primed with a series of word
pairs with the opposite order of first consonants (the preceding three all are
B— D—), they show a tendency to reverse the order of the first conso-
nants, in this case producing Barn Door. Interestingly, participants are much
more likely to produce such an error if it produces real words, as it does in the
above case, than if it does not (as in the case of Dock Boat, which if reversed
would become Bock Doat). Participants are also sensitive to a host of other
factors, such as whether the pair is grammatically appropriate and whether
it is culturally appropriate (e.g., they are more likely to convert cast part into
past cart than they are to convert fast part into past fart). This research has
been taken as evidence that we combine multiple factors into selection of
speech items.
■ Speech errors involving substitutions of sounds and words suggest
that words are selected at the clause level, whereas sounds are in-
serted at a lower phrase level.
Transformations
A phrase structure description represents a sentence hierarchically as pieces
within larger pieces. There are certain types of linguistic constructions that
some linguists think violate this strictly hierarchical structure. Consider the
following pair of sentences:
1. The dog is chasing Bill down the street.
2. Whom is the dog chasing down the street?
In sentence 1, Bill, the object of the chasing, is part of the verb phrase. On the
other hand, in sentence 2, whom, the object of the verb phrase, is at the begin-
ning of the sentence. The object is no longer part of the verb-phrase structure
to which it would seem to belong. Some linguists have proposed that, formally,
such questions are generated by starting with a phrase structure that has the ob-
ject whom in the verb phrase, such as
3. The dog is chasing whom down the street?
This sentence is somewhat strange but, with the right questioning intonation of
the whom, it can be made to sound reasonable. In some languages, such as Japa-
nese, the interrogative pronoun is normally in the verb phrase, as in sentence 3.
However, in English, the proposal is that there is a “movement transformation”
that moves the whom into its more normal position. Note that this proposal is
a linguistic one concerning the formal structure of language and may not de-
scribe the actual process of producing the question.
Some linguists believe that a satisfactory analysis of language requires
such transformations, which move elements from one part of the sentence to
Anderson_8e_Ch12.indd 290 13/09/14 9:58 AM
W H aT I S S o S p e C I a L a b o u T H u M a n L a n g u a g e ? / 291
another part. Transformations can also operate on more complicated sentences.
For instance, we can apply a transformation to sentences of the form
4. John believes the dog is chasing Bill down the street.
The corresponding question forms are
5. John believes what is chasing Bill down the street?
6. What does John believe is chasing Bill down the street?
Sentence 5 is strange even with a questioning intonation for what, but still some
linguists believe that sentence 6 is transformationally derived from it, even
though we would never produce sentence 5.
An intriguing concern to linguists is that there seem to be real limitations
on just what things can be moved by transformations. For instance, consider
the following set of sentences:
7. John believes the myth that George Washington chopped down the cherry
tree.
8. John believes the myth that who chopped down the cherry tree?
9. Who does John believe the myth that chopped down the cherry tree.
As sentence 7 illustrates, the basic sentence form is acceptable. Again with the
right intonation (questioning emphasis on “who”) sentence 8 can be made to
sound like a halfway reasonable sentence. However, sentence 9 just sounds
bizarre. One cannot move who from question form 8 to produce question form 9.
We will return later to the restrictions on movement transformations.
In contrast with the abundant evidence for phrase structure in language
processing, the evidence that people actually compute anything analogous to
transformations in understanding or producing sentences is very poor. How
people process such transformationally derived sentences remains very much
an open question. There is a lot of controversy within linguistics about how to
conceive of transformations. The role of transformations has been deempha-
sized in many proposals.
■ Transformations move elements from their normal positions in the
phrase structure of a sentence.
◆ What Is So Special About Human Language?
We have reviewed some of the features of human language, with the implicit
assumption that no other species has anything like such a language. What gives
us this conceit? How do we know that other species do not have their own lan-
guages? Perhaps we just do not understand the languages of other species. Cer-
tainly, all social species communicate with one another and, ultimately, whether
we call their communication systems languages is a definitional matter. How-
ever, human language is different from these other systems, and it is worth
identifying some of the features (Hockett, 1960) that are considered critical to
human language.
Semanticity and arbitrariness of units. Consider, for instance, the com-
munication system of dogs. They have a nonverbal system that is very effec-
tive in communication. The reason that dogs are such successful pets is thought
to be that their nonverbal communication system is so much like that of hu-
mans. Besides being nonverbal, canine communication has more fundamental
limitations. Unlike human language, in which the relation between signs and
meaning is arbitrary (there is no reason why “good dog” and “bad dog” should
Anderson_8e_Ch12.indd 291 13/09/14 9:58 AM
292 / Chapter 12 L a n g u a g e S T r u C T u r e
mean what they do), dogs’ signs are directly related to meaning—a snarl for
aggression (which often reveals the dog’s sharp incisors), exposing the neck (a
vulnerable part of the dog’s body) for submission, and so on. However, although
canines have a nonarbitrary communication system, it is not the case that all
species do. For instance, the vocalizations of some species of monkeys have this
property of arbitrary meaning (Marler, 1967). One species, the vervet monkey,
has different warning calls for different types of predators—a “chutter” for
snakes, a “chirp” for leopards, and a “kraup” for eagles.
Displacement in time and space. A critical feature of the monkey warning
system is that the monkeys use it only in the presence of a danger. They do not
use it to “discuss” the day’s events at a later time. An enormously important
feature of human language (exemplified by this book) is that it can be used to
communicate over time and distance. Interestingly, the “language” of honey-
bees satisfies the properties of both arbitrariness and displacement (von Frisch,
1967). When a honeybee returns to a nest after finding a food source, it will
engage in a dance to communicate the location of the food source. The “dance”
consists of a straight run followed by a turn to the right to circle back to the
starting point, another straight run, followed by a turn and circle to the left, and
so on, in an alternating pattern. The length of the run indicates the distance of
the food and the direction of the run relative to vertical indicates the direction
relative to the sun.
Discreteness and productivity. Human language contains discrete units,
which would serve to disqualify the bee language system, although the monkey
warning system meets this criterion. Requiring a language to have discrete units
is not just an arbitrary regulation to disqualify the dance of the bees. This dis-
creteness enables the elements of the language to be combined into an almost
infinite number of phrase structures and for these phrase structures to be trans-
formed, as already described.
It is a striking fact that all people in the world, even those in isolated com-
munities, speak a language. No other species spontaneously use a communica-
tion system anything like human language. Interestingly, great apes, genetically
closest to humans, appear to lack any kind of speech signal like the vervet mon-
key (Mithen, 2005). However, many people have wondered whether apes such as
chimpanzees could be taught a language. Early in the 20th century, there were
attempts to teach chimpanzees to speak that failed miserably (C. Hayes, 1951;
Kellogg & Kellogg, 1933). It is now clear that the human vocal apparatus has un-
dergone special evolutionary adaptations to enable speech, and it was a hopeless
goal to try to teach chimps to speak. However, apes have considerable manual
dexterity and, more recently, there have been some well-publicized attempts to
teach chimpanzees and other apes manual languages.
Some of the studies have used American Sign Language (e.g., R. A.
Gardner & Gardner, 1969), which is a full-fledged language and makes the
point that language need not be spoken. These attempts were only modest
successes (e.g., Terrace, Pettito, Sanders, & Bever, 1979). Although the
chimpanzees could acquire vocabularies of more than a hundred signs, they
never used them with the productivity typical of humans in using their own
language. Some of the more impressive attempts have actually used artificial
languages consisting of “words” called lexigrams, made from plastic shapes, that
can be attached to a magnetic board (e.g., Premack & Premack, 1983).
Perhaps the most impressive example comes from a bonobo great ape
called Kanzi (Savage-Rumbaugh et al., 1993; see Figure 12.4). Bonobos are
considered even closer genetically to humans than chimpanzees are, but they
are rare. Kanzi’s mother was a subject of one of these efforts, and Kanzi sim-
ply came along with his mother and observed her training sessions. However,
Anderson_8e_Ch12.indd 292 13/09/14 9:58 AM
W H aT I S S o S p e C I a L a b o u T H u M a n L a n g u a g e ? / 293
he spontaneously started to use the lexigrams, and the experimenters began
working with their newfound subject. His spontaneous constructions were
quite impressive, and it was discovered that he had also acquired a consider-
able ability to understand spoken language. When he was 5.5 years of age, his
comprehension of spoken English was determined to be equivalent to that of a
2-year-old human.
FIGURE 12.4 Kanzi, a bonobo,
listening to english. a number of
videos of Kanzi can be found on
youTube by searching with his
name. (Photo property of The
Language Research Center,
Georgia State University.)
▼
Ape language and the ethics
of experimentation
The issue of whether apes can be
taught human languages interlinks
in complex ways with issues about
the ethical treatment of animals in
research. The philosopher descartes
believed that language was what
separated humans from animals.
according to this view, if apes could
be shown capable of acquiring a
language, they would have human
status and should be given the same
rights as humans in experimentation.
one might even ask that they give
informed consent before participat-
ing in an experiment. Certainly, any
procedure that involved injury would
not be acceptable. There has been
a fair amount of research involving
invasive brain procedures with pri-
mates, but most of this has involved
monkeys, not the great apes. Inter-
estingly, it has been reported that
studies with linguistic apes found
that they categorized themselves
with humans and separate from
other animals (Linden, 1974). It has
been argued that it is in the best
interests of apes to teach them a
language because this would confer
on them the rights of humans. How-
ever, others have argued that teach-
ing apes a human language deadens
their basic nature and that the real
issue is that humans have lost the
ability to understand apes.
The very similarity of primates to
humans is what makes them such
attractive subjects for research. There
are severe restrictions on research
on apes in many countries, and in
2008 the great ape protection act,
which would have prohibited any in-
vasive research involving great apes,
was introduced in the u.S. Congress.
Much of the concern is with use of
apes to study human disease, where
the potential benefits are great but
the moral issues of infecting an
animal are also severe. From this
perspective, most cognitive research
with apes, such as that on language
acquisition, is quite benign. From a
cognitive perspective, they are the
only creatures that have thought
processes close to that of humans,
and they offer potential insights
we cannot get from other species.
nonetheless, many have argued that
all research that removes them from
their natural setting, including lan-
guage acquisition research, should
be banned.
I m p l I c a t I o n s
EM
PP
ho
to
gr
ap
hy
/G
et
ty
Im
ag
es
.
▲
▼
Anderson_8e_Ch12.indd 293 13/09/14 9:58 AM
294 / Chapter 12 L a n g u a g e S T r u C T u r e
As in other things, it seems unwise to conclude that human linguistic abili-
ties are totally discontinuous from the abilities of genetically close primates.
However, the human propensity for language is remarkable in the animal world.
Steven Pinker (1994) coined the phrase “language instinct” to describe the pro-
pensity for every human to acquire language. In his view, it is something wired
into the human brain through evolution. Just as songbirds are born with the
propensity to learn the song of their species, so we are born with the propen-
sity to learn the language of our society. Just as humans might try to imitate
the song of birds and partly succeed, other species, like the bonobo, may partly
succeed at mastering the language of humans. However, birdsong is special to
songbirds and language is special to humans.
■ Only humans show the propensity or the ability to acquire a com-
plex communication system that combines symbols in a multitude of
ways like natural language.
◆ The Relation Between Language
and Thought
All reasonable people would concede that there is some special connection
between language and humans. However, there is a lot of controversy about
why there is such a connection. Many researchers, like Steven Pinker and
Noam Chomsky, believe that humans have some special genetic endowment
that enables them to learn language. However, others argue that what is spe-
cial is general human intellectual abilities and that these abilities enable us to
shape our communication system to be something as complex as natural lan-
guage. I confess to leaning toward this second viewpoint. It raises the question
of what might be the relation between language and thought. There are three
possibilities that have been considered:
1. Thought depends in various ways on language.
2. Language depends in various ways on thought.
3. They are two independent systems.
We will go through each of these ideas in turn, starting with the proposal that
language depends on thought. There have been a number of different versions
of this proposal, including the radical behaviorist proposal that thought is just
speech and a more modest proposal called linguistic determinism.
The Behaviorist Proposal
As discussed in Chapter 1, John B. Watson, the father of behaviorism, held that
there was no such thing as internal mental activity at all. All that humans do,
Watson argued, is to emit responses that have been conditioned to various stim-
uli. This radical proposal, which, as noted in Chapter 1, held sway in America
for some time, seemed to fly in the face of the abundant evidence that humans
can engage in thinking behavior (e.g., do mental arithmetic) that entails no
response emission. To deal with this obvious counter, Watson proposed that
thinking was just subvocal speech—that, when people were engaged in such
“thinking” activities, they were really talking to themselves. Hence, Watson’s
proposal was that a very important component of thought is simply subvocal
speech. (The philosopher Herbert Feigl once said that Watson “made up his
windpipe that he had no mind.”)
Anderson_8e_Ch12.indd 294 13/09/14 9:58 AM
T H e r e L aT I o n b e T W e e n L a n g u a g e a n d T H o u g H T / 295
Watson’s proposal was a stimulus for a research program that engaged
in taking recordings to see whether evidence could be found for subvocal
activity of the speech apparatus during thinking. Indeed, often when a partici-
pant is engaged in thought, it is possible to get recordings of subvocal speech
activity. However, the more important observation is that, in some situations,
people engage in various silent thinking tasks with no detectable vocal activity.
This finding did not upset Watson. He claimed that we think with our whole
bodies—for instance, with our arms. He cited the fascinating evidence that deaf
mutes actually make signs while asleep. (Speaking people who have done a lot
of communication in sign language also sign while sleeping.)
The decisive experiment addressing Watson’s hypothesis was performed
by S. M. Smith, Brown, Toman, and Goodman (1947). They used a curare de-
rivative that paralyzes the entire voluntary musculature. Smith was the par-
ticipant for the experiment and had to be kept alive by means of an artificial
respirator. Because his entire musculature was completely paralyzed, it was
impossible for him to engage in subvocal speech or any other body move-
ment. Nonetheless, under curare, Smith was able to observe what was going
on around him, comprehend speech, remember these events, and think about
them. Thus, it seems clear that thinking can proceed in the absence of any
muscle activity. For our current purposes, the relevant additional observation
is that thought is not just implicit speech but is truly an internal, nonmotor
activity. These experiments have since been replicated with both curare and
succinylcholine (J. K. Stevens et al., 1976; Messner, Beese, Romstock, Dinkel, &
Tschaikowsky, 2003).
Additional evidence that thought is more than subvocal speech comes
from the occasional person who has no apparent language at all but who
certainly gives evidence of being able to think. Additionally, it seems hard to
claim that nonverbal animals such as apes are unable to think. Recall, for
instance, the problem-solving exploits of Sultan in Chapter 8. It is always hard
to determine the exact character of the “thought processes” of nonverbal par-
ticipants and the way in which these processes differ from the thought pro-
cesses of verbal participants, because there is no language with which nonverbal
participants can be interrogated. Thus, the apparent dependence of thought on
language may be an illusion that derives from the fact that it is hard to obtain
evidence about thought without using language.
■ The behaviorists believed that thought consists only of covert
speech and other implicit motor actions, but evidence has shown that
thought can proceed in the absence of any motor activity.
The Whorfian Hypothesis of Linguistic Determinism
Linguistic determinism is the claim that language determines or strongly in-
fluences the way that a person thinks or perceives the world. This proposal is
much weaker than Watson’s position because it does not claim that language
and thought are identical. The hypothesis has been advanced by a good many
linguists but has been most strongly associated with Benjamin Whorf (1956).
Whorf was quite an unusual character himself. He was trained as a chemical en-
gineer at MIT, spent his life working for the Hartford Fire Insurance Company,
and studied North American Indian languages as a hobby. He was very im-
pressed by the fact that different languages emphasize in rather different aspects
of the world. He believed that these emphases in a language must have a great
influence on the way that speakers of that language think about the world. For
instance, he claimed that Eskimos have many different words for snow, each of
which refers to snow in a different state (wind-driven, packed, slushy, and so on),
Anderson_8e_Ch12.indd 295 13/09/14 9:58 AM
296 / Chapter 12 L a n g u a g e S T r u C T u r e
whereas English speakers have only a single word for snow.5 Many other exam-
ples exist at the vocabulary level: The Hanunoo people in the Philippines suppos-
edly have 92 different names for varieties of rice. The Arabic language has many
different ways of naming camels. Whorf felt that such a rich variety of terms for a
particular category would cause the speaker of the language to perceive that cat-
egory differently from a person who had only a single word.
Deciding how to evaluate the Whorfian hypothesis is very tricky. Nobody
would be surprised to learn that Eskimos know more about snow than average
English speakers. After all, snow is a more important part of their life experience.
The question is whether their language has any effect on the Eskimos’ percep-
tion of snow beyond the effect of experience. If speakers of English went through
the Eskimo life experience, would their perception of snow be any different
from that of the Eskimo-language speakers? (Indeed, ski bums have a life expe-
rience that includes a great deal of exposure to snow; they have a great deal of
knowledge about snow and, interestingly, have developed new terms for snow.)
One fairly well researched test of the issue uses color words. English has
11 basic color words—black, white, red, green, yellow, blue, brown, purple, pink,
orange, and gray—a large number. These words are called basic color words
because they are short and are used frequently, in contrast with such terms as
saffron, turquoise, and magenta. At the other extreme is the language of the
Dani, a Stone Age agricultural people of Indonesian New Guinea. This language
has just two basic color terms: mili for dark, cold hues and mola for bright,
warm hues. If the categories in language determine perception, the Dani should
perceive color in a less refined manner than English speakers do. The relevant
question is whether this speculation is true.
Speakers of English, at least, judge a certain color within the range referred
to by each basic color term to be the best—for instance, the best red, the best
blue, and so on (see Berlin & Kay, 1969). Each of the 11 basic color terms in
English appears to have one generally agreed upon best color, called a focal
color. English speakers find it easier to process and remember focal colors than
nonfocal colors (e.g., Brown & Lenneberg, 1954). The interesting question is
whether the special cognitive capacity for identifying focal colors developed be-
cause English speakers have special words for these colors. If so, it would be a
case of language influencing thought.
To test whether the special processing of focal colors was an instance of
language influencing thought, Rosch (who published some of this work un-
der her former name, Heider) performed an important series of experiments
on the Dani. The point was to see whether the Dani processed focal colors
differently from English speakers. One experiment (Rosch, 1973) compared
Dani and English speakers’ ability to learn nonsense names for focal colors
versus nonfocal colors. English speakers find it easier to learn arbitrary names
for focal colors. Dani participants also found it easier to learn arbitrary names
for focal colors than for nonfocal colors, even though they have no names for
these colors. In another experiment (Heider, 1972), participants were shown a
color chip for 5 s; 30 s after the presentation ended, they were required to se-
lect the color from among 160 color chips. Both English and Dani speakers per-
form better at this task when they are trying to locate a focal color chip rather
than a nonfocal color chip. The physiology of color vision suggests that many
of these focal colors are specially processed by the visual system (de Valois &
Jacobs, 1968). The fact that many languages develop basic color terms for just
5 There have been challenges to Whorf ’s claims about the richness of Eskimo vocabulary for snow
(L. Martin, 1986; Pullman, 1989). In general, there is a feeling that Whorf exaggerated the variety of words
in various languages.
Anderson_8e_Ch12.indd 296 13/09/14 9:58 AM
T H e r e L aT I o n b e T W e e n L a n g u a g e a n d T H o u g H T / 297
these colors can be seen as an instance of thought
determining language.6
However, more recent research by Roberson,
Davies, and Davidoff (2000) does suggest an
influence of language on ability to remember colors.
They compared British participants with another
Papua New Guinea group who speak Berinmo, a lan-
guage that has five basic color terms. Color Plate 12.1
compares how the Berinmo speakers cut up the color
space with how English speakers cut up the color
space. Replicating the earlier work, they found that
there was superior memory for focal colors regardless
of language. However, there were substantial effects
of the color boundaries as well. The researchers
examined distinctions that were important in one language versus another. For
instance, the Berinmo speakers make a distinction between the colors wor and
nol in the middle of the English green category, whereas English speakers make
their yellow-green distinction in the middle of the Berinmo wor category. Par-
ticipants from both languages were asked to learn to sort stimuli at these two
boundaries into two categories. Figure 12.5 shows the amount of effort that
the two populations put into learning the two distinctions. English speakers
found it easiest to sort stimuli at the yellow-green boundary, whereas Berinmo
speakers found it easiest to sort stimuli at the nol-wor distinction.
Note that both populations are capable of making distinctions that are im-
portant to the other population. Thus, their language has not made them blind
to color distinctions. However, they definitely find it harder to see the distinc-
tions not signaled in their language and learn to make them consistently. Thus,
although language does not completely determine how we see the color space, it
can have an influence.
■ Language can influence thought, but it does not totally determine
the types of concepts that we can think about.
Does Language Depend on Thought?
The alternative possibility is that the structure of language is determined by
the structure of thought. Aristotle argued 2,500 years ago that the categories
of thought determined the categories of language. There are some reasons for
believing that he was correct, but most of these reasons were not available to
Aristotle. So, although the hypothesis has been around for 2,500 years, we have
better evidence today.
There are numerous reasons to suppose that humans’ ability to think (i.e.,
to engage in nonlinguistic cognitive activity such as remembering and problem
solving) appeared earlier evolutionarily and occurs sooner developmentally
than the ability to use language. Many species of animals without language ap-
pear to be capable of complex cognition. Children, before they are effective at
using their language, give clear evidence of relatively complex cognition. If we
accept the idea that thought evolved before language, it seems natural to sup-
pose that language arose as a tool whose function was to communicate thought.
It is generally true that tools are shaped to fit the objects on which they must
operate. Analogously, it seems reasonable to suppose that language has been
shaped to fit the thoughts that it must communicate.
Nol-Wor
2
0
4
Categories
M
ea
n
tri
als
to
cr
ite
rio
n
Yellow-Green
Berinmo
English
FIGURE 12.5 Mean errors to
criterion for the two populations
learning distinctions at the
nol-wor boundary and at the
yellow-green boundary. (From
Roberson, D., Davies, I., & Davidoff,
J. (2000). Colour categories are
not universal: Replications and new
evidence from a stone-age culture.
Journal of experimental psychology:
general, 129, 369–398. Copyright
© 2000 American Psychological
Association. Reprinted by
permission.)
6 For further research on this topic, read Lucy and Shweder (1979, 1988) and Garro (1986).
Anderson_8e_Ch12.indd 297 13/09/14 9:58 AM
298 / Chapter 12 L a n g u a g e S T r u C T u r e
An example of the way in which thought shapes language comes from
Rosch’s research on focal colors. As stated earlier, the human visual system
is maximally sensitive to certain colors. As a consequence, languages have
special, short, high-frequency words with which to designate these colors.
Thus, the visual system has determined how the English language divides up
the color space.
We find additional evidence for the influence of thought on language
when we consider word order. Every language has a preferred word order for
expressing subject (S), verb (V), and object (O). Consider this sentence, which
exhibits the preferred word order in English:
● Lynne petted the Labrador.
English is referred to as an SVO language. In a study of a diverse sample of
the world’s languages, Greenberg (1963) found that only four of the six possible
orders of S, V, and O are used in natural languages, and one of these four or-
ders is rare. The six possible word orders and the frequency of each order in the
world’s languages are as follows (the percentages are from Ultan, 1969):
SOV 44% VOS 2%
SVO 35% OVS 0%
VSO 19% OSV 0%
The important feature is that the subject almost always precedes the object.
This order makes good sense when we think about cognition. An action starts
with the agent and then affects the object. It is natural therefore that the subject
of a sentence, when it reflects its agency, is first.
Another domain of language where there is great diversity among languages
concerns kinship terms. Different languages make different choices about
what kinship relationships they will describe with single words. Figure 12.6
uses a family tree to compare some of the kinship terms used in English versus
Northern Paiute, an indigenous language of the western United States cur-
rently spoken by about 1,000 people. While both languages have single words
for relationships like mother and father, Northern Paiute has different words
for paternal and maternal grandparents whereas English does not. For instance,
in Northern Paiute the maternal grandmother is called Mu’a and the paternal
grandmother Tofo’o (Kroeber, 2009). It is not that an English speaker cannot dis-
tinguish between a maternal and paternal grandparent, but the English speaker
will need at least a two-word phrase whereas a speaker of Northern Paiute can
use a single word. In other cases, the two languages chose to combine different
relationships. So whereas English has a single word “grandson” to refer to chil-
dren of both sons and daughters, Northern Paiute has a single word to refer to
sons and daughters of a son. Overall, Northern Paiute has more single words for
kinship relationships.
One might ask which kinship system is better for purposes of communica-
tion. On average, Northern Paiute can describe relationships in shorter phrases.
On the other hand, Northern Paiute requires the language learner to master
more words. It does not seem worth having a special word for every imaginable
relationship. For instance, no language has a special word to describe the
daughter of the son of a daughter of our great-great grandfather on our mother’s
side. Languages tend to have words for those relationships we are most likely to
want to refer to. In an analysis of 487 different languages Kemp & Regier (2012)
found that the languages made near optimal choices. To determine the relative
frequency with which we refer to different family relationships, they examined
large data bases that are now available for electronic analysis. Although some
languages had more kinship words than others, the words they did have almost
always referred to those relationships that people most often wanted to refer to.
Anderson_8e_Ch12.indd 298 13/09/14 9:58 AM
T H e r e L aT I o n b e T W e e n L a n g u a g e a n d T H o u g H T / 299
That is, the words chosen for kinship terms are the ones that give the biggest
“bang for the buck.” This is a particularly clear example of how our communica-
tive needs have shaped our language.
■ In many ways, the structure of language corresponds to the struc-
ture of how our minds process the world.
The Modularity of Language
We have considered the possibility that thought might depend on language and
the possibility that language might depend on thought. A third logical possibility
is that language and thought might be independent. A special version of this
independence principle is called the modularity position (N. Chomsky, 1980;
Fodor, 1983). This position holds that important language processes function
independently from the rest of cognition. Fodor argued that a separate linguis-
tic module first analyzes incoming speech and then passes this analysis on to
general cognition. Fodor thought that this linguistic module was similar in this
respect to early visual processing. Similarly, in language generation, the linguistic
module takes the intentions to be spoken and produces the speech. This position
does not deny that the linguistic module may have been shaped to communi-
cate thought. However, it argues that it operates according to different principles
from the rest of cognition and is “encapsulated” such that it cannot be influenced
by general cognition. In essence, the claim is that language’s communication
Grandmother
Maternal-Grandmother
Grandfather
Maternal-Grandfather
Grandmother
Paternal-Grandmother
Grandfather
Paternal-Grandfather
Aunt
Maternal-Aunt
Sister
Older-Sister
Niece
Sister’s child
Niece
Brother’s child
Daughter Son
Nephew
Brother’s child
Nephew
Sister’s child
Granddaughter
Daughter’s child
Grandson
Daughter’s child
Granddaughter
Son’s child
Grandson
Son’s child
Niece
Sister’s child
Niece
Brother’s child
Nephew
Brother’s child
Nephew
Sister’s child
Brother
Older-Brother
Sister
Younger-Sister
Brother
Younger-BrotherSelf
Uncle
Maternal-UncleMother
Aunt
Paternal-Aunt
Uncle
Paternal-UncleFather
FIGURE 12.6 The kinship terms of english and northern paiute. In each box there is
first the english word and then an english translation of the word in northern paiute.
often the translations are two words because english does not have a single word equiva-
lent of the word in northern paiute. (Research from Kemp & Regier, 2012.)
Anderson_8e_Ch12.indd 299 13/09/14 9:58 AM
300 / Chapter 12 L a n g u a g e S T r u C T u r e
with other mental processes is limited to passing its products to general cogni-
tion and receiving the products of general cognition.
One piece of evidence for the independence of language from other cogni-
tive processes comes from research on people who have substantial deficits in
language but not in general cognition or vice versa. Williams syndrome, a rare
genetic disorder, is an example of a mental retardation that seems not to affect
linguistic fluency (Bellugi, Wang, & Jernigan, 1994). On the other side, there
are people who have severe language deficits without accompanying intellectual
deficits, including both some people with aphasia and some with developmen-
tal problems. Specific language impairment (SLI) is a term used to describe a
pattern of deficit in the development of language that cannot be explained by
hearing loss, mental retardation, or other nonlinguistic factors. It is a diagno-
sis of exclusion and probably has a number of underlying causes; in some cases,
these causes appear to be genetic (Stromswold, 2000). Recently, a mutation in a
specific gene, called FOXP2, has been associated with specific language deficits
(e.g., Wade, 2003), although there appear to be other cognitive deficits associ-
ated with this mutation as well (Vargha-Khadem, Watkins, Alcock, Fletcher, &
Passingham, 1995). The FOXP2 gene is very similar in all mammals, although
the human FOXP2 is distinguished from that of other primates by two amino
acids (out of 715). Mutations in the FOXP2 gene are associated with vocal defi-
cits and other deficits in many species. For instance, mutation of FOXP2 results
in incomplete acquisition of song imitation in birds (Haesler et al., 2007). It has
been claimed that the human form of the FOXP2 gene became established in the
human population about 50,000 years ago when, according to some proposals,
human language emerged (Enard et al., 2002). However, more recent evidence
suggests that these changes in the FOXP2 gene are shared with Neanderthals
and occurred 300,000 to 400,000 years ago (Krause et al., 2007). Although the
FOXP2 gene does play an important role in language, it does not appear to pro-
vide strong evidence for a genetic basis for a unique language ability.
The modularity hypothesis has turned out to be a divisive issue in the field,
with different researchers lining up in support or in opposition. Two domains of
research have played a major role in evaluating the modularity proposal:
1. Language acquisition. Here, the issue is whether language is acquired
according to its own learning principles or whether it is acquired like other
cognitive skills.
2. Language comprehension. Here, the issue is whether major aspects of
language processing occur without utilization of any general cognitive
processes.
We will consider some of the issues with respect to comprehension in the
next chapter. In this chapter, we will look at what is known about language
acquisition. After an overview of the general course of language acquisition by
young children, we will turn to the implications of the language-acquisition
process for the uniqueness of language.
■ The modularity position holds that the acquisition and processing
of language is independent from other cognitive systems.
◆ Language Acquisition
Having watched my two children acquire a language, I understand how easy it
is to lose sight of what a remarkable feat it is. Days and weeks go by with lit-
tle apparent change in their linguistic abilities. Progress seems slow. However,
something remarkable is happening. With very little and often no deliberate
Anderson_8e_Ch12.indd 300 13/09/14 9:58 AM
L a n g u a g e a C q u I S I T I o n / 301
instruction, children by the time they reach age 10 have accomplished implicitly
what generations of PhD linguists have not accomplished explicitly. They have
internalized all the major rules of a natural language—and there appear to be
thousands of such rules with subtle interactions. No linguist in a lifetime has
been able to formulate a grammar for any language that will identify all and only
the grammatical sentences. However, as we progress through childhood, we do
internalize such a grammar. Unfortunately for the linguist, our knowledge of the
grammar of our language is not something that we can articulate. It is implicit
knowledge (see Chapter 7), which we can only display in using the language.
The process by which children acquire a language has some characteristic
features that seem to hold no matter what their native language is (and languages
throughout the world differ dramatically): Children are notoriously noisy crea-
tures from birth. At first, there is little variety in their speech. Their vocalizations
consist almost totally of an ah sound (although they can produce it at different
intensities and with different emotional tones). In the months following birth, a
child’s vocal apparatus matures. At about 6 months, a change takes place in chil-
dren’s utterances. They begin to engage in what is called babbling, which consists
of generating a rich variety of speech sounds with interesting intonation pat-
terns. However, the sounds are generally totally meaningless.
An interesting feature of early-childhood speech is that children produce
sounds that they will not use in the particular language that they will learn.
Moreover, they can apparently make acoustic discriminations among sounds
that will not be used in their language. For instance, Japanese infants can dis-
criminate between /l/ and /r/, a discrimination that Japanese adults cannot
make (Tsushima et al., 1994). Similarly, English infants can discriminate among
variations of the /t/ sound, which are important in the Hindi language of In-
dia, that English adults cannot discriminate (Werker & Tees, 1999). It is as if
children enter the world with speech and perceptual capabilities that consti-
tute a block of marble out of which will be carved their particular language,
discarding what is not necessary for that language.
When a child is about a year old, the first words appear, always a point of
great excitement to the child’s parents. The very first words are apparent only to
the ears of very sympathetic parents and caretakers, but soon the child develops
a considerable repertoire of words that are recognizable to the untrained ear and
that the child uses effectively to make requests and to describe what is happen-
ing. The early words are concrete and refer to the here and now. Among my chil-
dren’s first words were Mommy, Daddy, Rogers (for Mister Rogers), cheese, ’puter
(for computer), eat, hi, bye, go, and hot. One remarkable feature of this stage is
that children’s speech consists only of one-word utterances; even though children
know many words, they never put them together to make multiword phrases.
Children’s use of single words is quite complex. They often use a single word to
communicate a whole thought. Children will also overextend their words. Thus,
the word dog might be used to refer to any furry four-legged animal.
The one-word stage, which lasts about 6 months, is followed by a stage in
which children will put two words together. I can still remember our excite-
ment as parents when our son said his first two-word utterance at
18 months—more gee, which meant for him “more brie”—he was a
connoisseur of cheese. Table 12.1 illustrates some of the typical two-
word utterances generated by children at this stage (actually all gener-
ated by my first son). All their utterances are one or two words. Once
their utterances extend beyond two words, they are of many different
lengths. There is no corresponding three-word stage. The two-word
utterances correspond to about a dozen or so semantic relations,
including agent-action, agent-object, action-object, object-location,
object-attribute, possessor-object, negation-object, and negation-event.
more bottle Mommy read
wanna grapes bye daddy
Mommy chin read book
hot fire door closed
nice russ wanna it
good food door closed
TABLE 12.1 Two-Word utterances
Anderson_8e_Ch12.indd 301 13/09/14 9:58 AM
302 / Chapter 12 L a n g u a g e S T r u C T u r e
The order in which children place these words usually
corresponds to one of the orders that would be correct
in adult speech in the children’s linguistic community.
Even when children leave the two-word stage and
speak in sentences ranging from three to eight words,
their speech retains a peculiar quality that is sometimes
referred to as telegraphic. Table 12.2 contains some of
these longer multiword utterances. The children speak
somewhat as people used to write in telegrams (and somewhat like people cur-
rently do when text messaging), omitting such unimportant function words
as the and is. In fact, it is rare to find in early-childhood speech any utterance
that would be considered to be a well-formed sentence. Yet, out of this begin-
ning, grammatical sentences eventually appear. One might expect that children
would learn to speak some kinds of sentences perfectly, then learn to speak
other kinds of sentences perfectly, and so on. However, it seems that children
start out speaking all kinds of sentences and all of them imperfectly. Their lan-
guage development is characterized not by learning more kinds of sentences but
by their sentences becoming gradually better approximations of adult sentences.
Besides the missing words, there are other dimensions in which children’s
early speech is incomplete. A classic example concerns the rules for pluraliza-
tion in English. Initially, children do not distinguish in their speech between
singular and plural, using a singular form for both. Then, they will learn the
add s rule for pluralization but overextend it, producing foots or even feets.
Gradually, they learn the pluralization rules for the irregular words. This learn-
ing continues into adulthood. Cognitive scientists have to learn that the plural
of schema is schemata (a fact that I spared the reader from having to deal with
when schemas were discussed in Chapter 5).
Another dimension in which children have to perfect their language is
word order. They have particular difficulties with transformational movements
of terms from their natural position in the phrase structure (see the earlier dis-
cussion in this chapter). So, for instance, there is a point at which children form
questions without moving the verb auxiliary from the verb phrase:
● What me think?
● What the doggie have?
Even later, when children’s spontaneous speech seems to be well formed, they
will display errors in comprehension that reveal that they have not yet captured
all the subtleties in their language. For instance, C. Chomsky (1970) found that
children had difficulty comprehending sentences such as John promised Bill to
leave, interpreting Bill as the one who leaves. The verb promise is unusual in
this respect—for instance, compare John told Bill to leave, which children will
properly interpret.
By the time children are 6 years old, they have mastered most of their lan-
guage, although they continue to pick up details at least until the age of 10. In
that time, they have learned tens of thousands of special case rules and tens of
thousands of words. Studies of the rate of word acquisition by children pro-
duced an estimate of more than five words a day (Carey, 1978; E. V. Clark,
1983). A natural language requires more knowledge to be acquired for mastery
than do any of the domains of expertise considered in Chapter 9. Of course,
children also put an enormous amount of time into the language-acquisition
process—easily 10,000 hr must have been spent practicing speaking and under-
standing speech before a child is 6 years old.
■ Children gradually approximate adult speech by producing ever
larger and more complex constructions.
no more apple juice no Mommy walk
daddy go up daddy eat big cracker
Sarah read book rogers eat orange
ernie go by car please Mommy read book
TABLE 12.2 Multiword utterances
Anderson_8e_Ch12.indd 302 13/09/14 9:58 AM
L a n g u a g e a C q u I S I T I o n / 303
The Issue of Rules and the Case of Past Tense
A controversy in the study of language acquisition concerns whether children
are learning what might be considered rules such as those that are part of lin-
guistic theory. For instance, when a child learning English begins to inflect a
verb such as kick with ed to indicate past tense, is that child learning a past-
tense rule or is the child just learning to associate kick and ed? A young child
certainly cannot explicitly articulate the add ed rule, but this inability may just
mean that this knowledge is implicit. An interesting observation in this regard
is that children will generalize the rule to new verbs. If they are introduced to a
new verb (e.g., told that the made-up verb wug means dance), they will spon-
taneously generate this verb with the appropriate past tense (wugged in this
example).
Some of the evidence on this score concerns how children learn to
deal with irregular past tenses—for instance, the past tense of sing is sang.
The order in which children learn to inflect verbs for past tense follows the
characteristic sequence noted for pluralization. First, children will use the
irregular correctly, generating sang; then they will overgeneralize the past-
tense rule and generate singed; finally, they will get it right for good and return
to sang. The existence of this intermediate stage of overgeneralization has been
used to argue for the existence of rules, because it is claimed there is no way
that the child could have learned from direct experience to associate ed to sing.
Rather, the argument goes, the child must be overgeneralizing a rule that has
been learned.
This conventional interpretation of the acquisition of past tense was chal-
lenged by Rumelhart and McClelland (1986). They simulated a neural network
as illustrated in Figure 12.7 and had it learn the past tenses of verbs. In the net-
work, one inputs the root form of a verb (e.g., kick, sing) and, after a number of
layers of association, the past-tense form should appear.
The computer model was trained with a set of 420 pairs of the root with
the past tense. It simulated a neural-learning mechanism to acquire the pairs.
Such a system learns to associate features of the input with features of the out-
put. Thus, it might learn that words beginning with “s” are associated with
past tense endings of “ed,” thus leading to the “singed” overgeneralization (but
things can be more complex in such neural models). The model mirrored the
standard developmental sequence of children, first generating correct irregu-
lars, then overgeneralizing, and finally getting it right. It went through the
intermediate stage of generating past-tense forms such as singed because of
Fixed
encoding
network
Pattern associator
modifiable connections Decoding/binding
network
Phonological
representation
of root form
Phonological
representation
of past tense
Feature
representation
of root form
Feature
representation
of past tense
FIGURE 12.7 a network for past
tense. The phonological represen-
tation of the root is converted into
a distributed feature representa-
tion. This representation is con-
verted into the distributed feature
representation of the past tense,
which is then mapped onto a
phonological representation of
the past tense. (From Rumelhart,
D. E., & McClelland, J. L. (1986).
On learning the past tenses of
English verbs. In J. L. McClelland
& D. E. Rumelhart (Eds.), parallel
distributed processing: explorations
in the microstructure of cognition:
psychological and biological models
(Vol. 2, figure from pp. 216–271).
Copyright © 1986 Massachusetts
Institute of Technology, by permis-
sion of The MIT Press.)
Anderson_8e_Ch12.indd 303 13/09/14 9:58 AM
304 / Chapter 12 L a n g u a g e S T r u C T u r e
generalization from regular past-tense forms. With enough practice, the model,
in effect, memorized the past-tense forms and was not using generalization.
Rumelhart and McClelland concluded:
We have, we believe, provided a distinct alternative to the view that
children learn the rules of English past-tense formation in any explicit
sense. We have shown that a reasonable account of the acquisition of
past tense can be provided without recourse to the notion of a “rule”
as anything more than a description of the language. We have shown
that, for this case, there is no induction problem. The child need not
figure out what the rules are, nor even that there are rules. (p. 267)
Their claims drew a major counterresponse from Pinker and Prince (1988).
Pinker and Prince pointed out that the ability to produce the initial stage
of correct irregulars depended on Rumelhart and McClelland’s using a
disproportionately large number of irregulars at first—more so than the child
experiences. They had a number of other criticisms of the model, including the
fact that it sometimes produced utterances that children never produce—for in-
stance, it produced membled as the past tense of mail.
Another of their criticisms had to do with whether it was even possible to
really learn past tense as the process of associating root form with past-tense
form. It turns out that the way a verb is inflected for past tense does not de-
pend just on its root form but also on its meaning. For instance, the word ring
has two meanings as a verb—to make a sound or to encircle. Although it is the
same root, the past tense of the first is rang, whereas the past tense of the latter
is ringed, as in
● He rang the bell.
● They ringed the fort with soldiers.
It is unclear how fundamental any of these criticisms are, and there are now a
number of more adequate attempts to come up with such associative models
(e.g., MacWhinney & Leinbach, 1991; Daugherty, MacDonald, Petersen, &
Seidenberg, 1993; and, for a rejoinder, see Marcus et al., 1995).
Marslen-Wilson and Tyler (1998) argued that the debate between rule-
based and associative accounts will not be settled by focusing only on children’s
language acquisition. They suggest that more decisive evidence will come from
examining properties of the neural system that implements adult processing of
past tenses. They cite two sorts of evidence, which seem to converge in their
implications about the nature of the processing of past tense. First, they cite evi-
dence that some patients with aphasias have deficient processing of regular past
tenses, whereas others have deficient processing of irregular past tenses. The
patients with deficient processing of regular past tenses have severe damage to
Broca’s area, which is generally associated with syntactic processing. In contrast,
the patients with deficient processing of irregular past tenses have damage to
their temporal lobes, which are generally associated with associative learning.
Second, they cite the PET-imaging data of Jaeger et al. (1996), who studied the
processing of past tenses by unimpaired adults. Jaeger et al. found activation in
the region of Broca’s area only during the processing of regular past tenses and
found temporal activation during the processing of irregular past tenses. On
the basis of the data, Marslen-Wilson and Tyler concluded that the regular past
tense may be processed in a rule-based manner, whereas the irregular may be
processed in an associative manner.
■ Irregular past tenses are produced associatively, and there is debate
about whether regular past tenses are produced associatively or by
rules.
Anderson_8e_Ch12.indd 304 13/09/14 9:58 AM
L a n g u a g e a C q u I S I T I o n / 305
The Quality of Input
An important difference between a child’s first-language acquisition and the ac-
quisition of many skills (including typical second-language acquisition) is that
the child receives little if any instruction in acquiring his or her first language.
Thus, the child’s task is one of inducing the structure of natural language from
listening to parents, caretakers, and older children. In addition to not receiv-
ing any direct instruction, the child is often not told when they are making er-
rors of syntax. Many parents do not correct their children’s speech at all, and
those who do correct their children’s speech appear to do so without any effect.
Consider the following well-known interaction recorded between a parent and
a child (McNeill, 1966):
Child: Nobody don’t like me.
Mother: No, say, “Nobody likes me.”
Child: Nobody don’t like me.
Mother: No, say, “Nobody likes me.”
Child: Nobody don’t like me.
[dialogue repeated eight times]
Mother: Now listen carefully; say, “Nobody likes me.”
Child: Oh! Nobody don’t likeS me.
This lack of negative information is puzzling to theorists of natural language
acquisition. We have seen that children’s early speech is full of errors. If they
are never told about their errors, why do children ever abandon these incorrect
ways of speaking and adopt the correct forms?
Because children do not get much instruction on the nature of language
and ignore most of what they do get, their learning task is one of induction—
they must infer from the utterances that they hear what the acceptable utter-
ances in their language are. This task is very difficult under the best of con-
ditions, and children often do not operate under the best of conditions. For
instance, children hear ungrammatical sentences mixed in with the grammati-
cal. How are they to avoid being misled by these sentences? Some parents and
caregivers are careful to make their utterances to children simple and clear.
This kind of speech, consisting of short sentences with exaggerated intona-
tion, is called motherese (Snow & Ferguson, 1977). However, not all children
receive the benefit of such speech, and yet all children learn their native lan-
guages. Some parents speak to their children in only adult sentences, and the
children learn (Kaluli, studied by Schieffelin, 1979); other parents do not speak
to their children at all, and still the children learn by overhearing adults speak
(Piedmont Carolinas, studied by Heath, 1983). Moreover, among more typi-
cal parents, there is no correlation between the degree to which motherese is
used and the rate of linguistic developments (Gleitman, Newport, & Gleitman,
1984). So the quality of the input cannot be that critical.
Another curious fact is that children appear to be capable of learning a
language in the absence of any input. Goldin-Meadow (2003) summarized re-
search on the deaf children of speaking parents who chose to teach their chil-
dren by the oral method. It is very difficult for deaf children to learn to speak
but quite easy for children to learn sign language. Despite the fact that the par-
ents of these children were not teaching them sign language, they proceeded
to invent their own sign language to communicate with their parents. These
invented languages have the structure of normal languages. Moreover, the
children in the process of invention seem to go through the same periods as
children who are learning a language of their community. That is, they start
out with single manual gestures, then progress to a two-gesture period, and
Anderson_8e_Ch12.indd 305 13/09/14 9:58 AM
306 / Chapter 12 L a n g u a g e S T r u C T u r e
continue to evolve a complete language more or less at the same points in time
as those of their hearing peers. Thus, children seem to be born with a propen-
sity to communicate and will learn a language no matter what.
The very fact that young children learn a language so successfully in almost
all circumstances has been used to argue that the way that we learn language
must be different from the way that we learn other cognitive skills. Also pointed
out is the fact that children learn their first language successfully at a point in
development when their general intellectual abilities are still weak.
■ Children master language at a very young age and with little direct
instruction.
A Critical Period for Language Acquisition
A related argument has to do with the claim that young children appear to
acquire a second language much faster than older children or adults do. It is
claimed that there is a certain critical period, from 2 to about 12 years of
age, when it is easiest to learn a language. For a long time, the claim that
children learn second languages more readily than adults was based on infor-
mal observations of children of various ages and of adults in new linguistic
communities—for example, when families move to another country in response
to a corporate assignment or when immigrants move to another country
to reside there permanently. Young children are said to acquire a facility to
get along in the new language more quickly than their older siblings or their
parents. However, there are a great many differences between the adults, the
older children, and the younger children in amount of linguistic exposure, type
of exposure (e.g., whether the stock market, history, or video games are being
discussed), and willingness to try to learn (McLaughlin, 1978; Nida, 1971). In
careful studies in which situations have been selected that controlled for these
factors, a positive relation is exhibited between children’s ages and rate of lan-
guage development (Ervin-Tripp, 1974). That is, older children (older than
12 years) learn faster than younger children.
Even though older children and adults may learn a new language more rap-
idly than younger children initially, they seem not to acquire the same level of
final mastery of the fine points of language, such as the phonology and mor-
phology (Lieberman, 1984; Newport, 1986). For instance, the ability to speak
a second language without an accent severely deteriorates with age (Oyama,
1978). In one study, Johnson and Newport (1986) looked at the degree of pro-
ficiency in speaking English achieved by Koreans and Chinese as a function
of the age at which they arrived in America. All had been in the United States
for about 10 years. In general, it seems that the later they came to America,
the poorer their performance was on a variety of measures of syntactic facility.
Thus, although it is not true that language learning is fastest for the youngest,
it does seem that the greatest eventual mastery of the fine points of language is
achieved by those who start very young.
Figure 12.8 shows some data from Flege, Yeni-Komshian, and Liu (1999)
looking at the performance of 240 Korean immigrants to the United States. For
measures of both foreign accent and syntactic errors, there is a steady decrease
in performance with age of arrival in the United States. The data give some
suggestion of a more rapid drop around the age of 10—which would be con-
sistent with the hypothesis of a critical period in language acquisition. How-
ever, age of arrival turns out to be confounded with many other things, and one
critical factor is the relative use of Korean versus English. Based on question-
naire data, Flege et al. rated these participants with respect to the relative fre-
quency with which they used English versus Korean. Figure 12.9 displays this
Anderson_8e_Ch12.indd 306 13/09/14 9:58 AM
L a n g u a g e a C q u I S I T I o n / 307
data and shows that there is a steady decrease in use of English to about the
point of the critical period at which participants reported approximately equal
use of the two languages. Perhaps the decrease in English performance reflects
this difference in amount of use. To address this question, Flege et al. created
two matched groups (subsets of the original 240) who reported equal use of
English, but one group averaged 9.7 years old when they arrived in the United
States and the other group averaged 16.2. The two groups did not differ on
measures of syntax, but the later arriving group still showed a stronger accent.
Thus, it seems that there may not be a critical period for acquisition of syntac-
tic knowledge but there may be one for acquisition of phonological knowledge.
Weber-Fox and Neville (1996) presented an interesting analysis of the ef-
fects of age of acquisition of language processing. They compared Chinese-
English bilinguals who had learned English as a second language at different
ages. One of their tests included an ERP measurement of sensitivity to syn-
tactic violations in English. English monolinguals show
a strong left lateralization in their response to such viola-
tions, which is a reflection of the left lateralization of lan-
guage. Figure 12.10 compares the two hemispheres in
these adult bilinguals as a function of the age at which they
acquired English. Adults who had learned English in their
first years of life show strong left lateralization like those
who learn English as a first language. If they were delayed
in their acquisition to ages between 11 and 13, they show
almost no lateralization. Those who had acquired English
at an intermediate age show an intermediate amount of lat-
eralization. Interestingly, Weber-Fox and Neville reported
no such critical period for lexical or semantic violations.
Learning English as late as 16 years of age had almost no
effect on the lateralization of their responses to semantic
violations. Thus, grammar seems to be more sensitive to a
critical period.
M
ea
n
fo
re
ig
n
ac
ce
nt
ra
tin
g
9
7
6
8
5
4
3
2
1
5 10 15 200
Age of arrival in the United States(a)
M
or
ph
os
yn
ta
x s
co
re
s (
%
co
rre
ct) 90
100
80
70
60
50
5 10 15 200
Age of arrival in the United States(b)
Native English
Native Korean
Native English
Native Korean
FIGURE 12.8 Mean language scores of 24 native english speakers and 240 native
Korean participants as a function of age of arrival in the united States. (a) Scores on
test of foreign accent (lower scores mean stronger accent) and (b) scores on tests of
morphosyntax (lower scores mean more errors). (Reprinted from Flege, J., Yeni-Komshian,
G., & Liu, S. (1999). Age constraints on second language learning. Journal of Memory and
Language, 41, 78–104. Copyright © 1999 with permission of Elsevier. )
Ra
tio
o
f E
ng
lis
h/
Ko
re
an
u
se
1.2
1.4
1.6
1.8
2.0
2.2
2.4
1.0
0.8
0 5 10 15 20
Age of arrival (years)
FIGURE 12.9 relative use
of english versus Korean as a
function of age of arrival in the
united States. (Reprinted from
Flege, J., Yeni-Komshian, G., &
Liu, S. (1999). Age constraints
on second language learning.
Journal of Memory and Language,
41, 78–104. Copyright © 1999
with permission of Elsevier.)
Anderson_8e_Ch12.indd 307 13/09/14 9:58 AM
308 / Chapter 12 L a n g u a g e S T r u C T u r e
Most studies on the effect of age of acquisition have naturally concerned
second languages. However, an interesting study of first-language acquisition
was done by Newport and Supalla (1990). They looked at the acquisition of
American Sign Language, one of the few languages that is sometimes acquired
as a first language in adolescence or adulthood. Deaf children of speaking
parents are sometimes not exposed to the sign language until adolescence or
later and consequently acquire no language in their early years. Deaf people
who acquire sign language as adults achieve a poorer ultimate mastery of it than
those who acquire it as children.
■ There are age-related differences in the success with which children
can acquire a new language, with the strongest effects on phonology,
intermediate effects on syntax, and weakest effects on semantics.
Language Universals
Noam Chomsky (1965) argued that special innate mechanisms underlie the
acquisition of language. Specifically, his claim was that the number of formal
possibilities for a natural language is so great that learning the language would sim-
ply be impossible unless we possessed some innate information about the possible
forms of natural human languages. It is possible to prove formally that Chomsky is
correct in his claim. Although the formal analysis is beyond the scope of this book,
an analogy might help. In Chomsky’s view, the problem that child learners face is
to discover the grammar of their language when only given instances of utterances
of the language. The task can be compared to trying to find a matching sock (lan-
guage) from a huge pile of socks (set of possible languages). One can use various
features (utterances) of the sock in hand to determine whether any particular sock
FIGURE 12.10 erp patterns
produced in response to gram-
matical anomalies in english in
left and right hemispheres. (From
Weber-Fox, C., & Neville, H. J.
(1996). Maturational constraints
on functional specializations for
language processing: ERP and
behavioral evidence in bilingual
speakers. In M. Gazzaniga (Ed.),
The new cognitive neurosciences
(2nd ed., Figure 7.5, p. 92).
Copyright © 1999 Massachusetts
Institute of Technology, by permis-
sion of The MIT Press.)
Grammatical processing in bilinguals
Age of second-language
acquisition
1–3 years
4–6 years
11–13 years
Anderson_8e_Ch12.indd 308 13/09/14 9:58 AM
L a n g u a g e a C q u I S I T I o n / 309
in the pile is the matching one. If the pile of socks is big enough and the socks
are similar enough, this task would prove to be impossible. Likewise, enough for-
mally possible grammars are similar enough to one another to make it impossible
to learn every possible instance of a formal language. However, because language
learning obviously occurs, we must, according to Chomsky, have special innate
knowledge that allows us to substantially restrict the number of possible grammars
that we have to consider. In the sock analogy, it would be like knowing ahead of
time which part of the pile to inspect. So, although we cannot learn all possible
languages, we can learn a special subset of them.
Chomsky proposed the existence of language universals that limit the
possible characteristics of a natural language and a natural grammar. He as-
sumes that children can learn a natural language because they possess innate
knowledge of these language universals. A language that violated these uni-
versals would simply be unlearnable, which means that there are hypothetical
languages that no humans could learn. Languages that humans can learn are
referred to as natural languages.
As already noted, we can formally prove that Chomsky’s assertion is
correct—that is, constraints on the possible forms of a natural language must
exist. However, the critical issue is whether these constraints are due to any
linguistic-specific knowledge on the part of children or whether they are simply
general cognitive constraints on learning mechanisms. Chomsky would argue
that the constraints are language specific. It is this claim that is open to serious
question: Are the constraints on the form of natural languages universals of lan-
guage or universals of cognition?
In his discussion of language universals, Chomsky is concerned with a
competence grammar. Recall that a competence grammar is an abstract speci-
fication of what a speaker knows about a language; in contrast, a performance
analysis is concerned with the way in which a speaker uses language. Thus,
Chomsky is claiming that children possess innate constraints about the types
of phrase structures and transformations that might be found in a natural
language. Because of the abstract, nonperformance-based character of these
purported universals, one cannot simply evaluate Chomsky’s claim by observing
the details of acquisition of any particular language. Rather, the strategy is to
look for properties that are true of all languages or of the acquisition of all lan-
guages. These universal properties would be manifestations of the language uni-
versals that Chomsky postulates.
Although languages can be quite different from one another, some clear
uniformities, or near-uniformities, exist. For instance, as we saw earlier, vir-
tually no language favors the object-before-subject word order. However, as
noted, this constraint appears to have a cognitive explanation (as do many other
limits on language form).
Often, the uniformities among languages seem so natural that we do not
realize that other possibilities might exist. One such language universal is that
adjectives appear near the nouns that they modify. Thus, we translate The brave
woman hit the cruel man into French as
● La femme brave a frappé l’homme cruel
and not as
● La femme cruel a frappé l’homme brave
although a language in which the adjective beside the subject noun modified
the object noun and vice versa would be logically possible. Clearly, however,
such a language design would be absurd in regard to its cognitive demands. It
would require that listeners hold the adjective from the beginning of the sen-
tence until the noun at the end. No natural language has this perverse structure.
Anderson_8e_Ch12.indd 309 13/09/14 9:58 AM
310 / Chapter 12 L a n g u a g e S T r u C T u r e
■ There are universal constraints on the kinds of languages that hu-
mans can learn.
The Constraints on Transformations
A set of peculiar constraints on movement transformations (refer to the early
subsection on transformations) has been used to argue for the existence of lin-
guistic universals. Compare sentence 1 with sentence 2:
1. Which woman did John meet who knows the senator?
2. Which senator did John meet the woman who knows?
Linguists would consider sentence 1 to be acceptable but not sentence 2. Sen-
tence 1 can be derived by a transformation from sentence 3. This transforma-
tion moves which woman forward:
3. John met which woman who knows the senator?
4. John met the woman who knows which senator?
Sentence 2 could be derived by a similar transformation operating on which
senator in sentence 4, but apparently transformations are not allowed that move
a noun phrase that is embedded within another noun phrase (in this case, the
noun phrase which senator is embedded in the noun phrase the woman who
knows which senator). However, this constraint does not apply to deeply embed-
ded nouns that are not in clauses modifying other nouns. So, for instance, sen-
tence 5, which is acceptable, is derived transformationally from sentence 6:
5. Which senator does Mary believe that Bill said that John likes?
6. Mary believes that Bill said that John likes which senator?
Thus, we see that the constraint on the transformation that forms which ques-
tions is arbitrary. It can apply to any embedded noun unless that noun is part of
another noun phrase. The arbitrariness of this constraint makes it hard to im-
agine how a child would ever figure it out—unless the child already knew it as
a universal of language. Certainly, children are not explicitly told this fact about
language.
The existence of such constraints on the form of language offers a challenge
to any theory of language acquisition. The constraints are so peculiar that it is
hard to imagine how they could be learned unless a child was especially pre-
pared to deal with them.
■ There are rather arbitrary constraints on the movements that
transformations can produce.
Parameter Setting
With all this discussion about language universals, one might get the impres-
sion that all languages are basically alike. Far from it. On many dimensions, the
languages of the world are radically different. They might have some abstract
properties in common, such as the transformational constraint discussed above,
but there are many properties on which they differ. As already mentioned, dif-
ferent languages prefer different orders for subject, verb, and object. Languages
also differ in how strict they are about word order. English is very strict, but
some highly inflected languages, such as Finnish, allow people to say their sen-
tences with almost any word order they choose. There are languages that do not
mark verbs for tense and languages that mark verbs for the flexibility of the ob-
ject being acted on.
Anderson_8e_Ch12.indd 310 13/09/14 9:58 AM
C o n C L u S I o n S : T H e u n I q u e n e S S o F L a n g u a g e : a S u M M a r y / 311
Another example of a difference, which has been a focus of discussion, is
that some languages, such as Italian or Spanish, are what are called pro-drop
languages: They allow one to optionally drop the pronoun when it appears in
the subject position. Thus, whereas in English we would say, I am going to the
cinema tonight, Italians can say, Vado al cinema stasera, and Spaniards, Voy al
cine esta noche—in both cases, just starting with the verb and omitting the first-
person pronoun. It has been argued that pro-drop is a parameter on which nat-
ural languages vary, and although children cannot be born knowing whether
their language is pro-drop or not, they are born knowing that this is a dimen-
sion on which languages vary. Thus, knowledge that the pro-drop parameter
exists is one of the purported universals of natural language.
Knowledge of a parameter such as pro-drop is useful because a number of
features are determined by it. For instance, if a language is not pro-drop, it re-
quires what are called expletive pronouns. In English, a non-pro-drop language,
the expletive pronouns are it and there when they are used in sentences such
as It is raining or There is no money. English requires these rather semantically
empty pronouns because, by definition, a non-pro-drop language cannot have
empty slots in the subject position. Pro-drop languages such as Spanish and
Italian lack such empty pronouns because they are not needed.
Hyams (1986) argued that children starting to learn any language, includ-
ing English, will treat it as a pro-drop language and optionally drop pronouns
even though doing so may not be correct in the adult language. She noted
that young children learning English tend to omit subjects. They will also not
use expletive pronouns, even when they are part of the adult language. When
children in a non-pro-drop language start using expletive pronouns, they
simultaneously optionally stop dropping pronouns in the subject position.
Hyams argued that this is the point at which they have learned that their lan-
guage is not a pro-drop language.
It is argued that much of the variability among natural languages can be
described in terms of different settings of 100 or so parameters, such as the
pro-drop parameter, and that a major part of learning a language is learning
the settings of these parameters (of course, there is a lot more to be learned
than just these settings—e.g., an enormous vocabulary). This theory of lan-
guage acquisition is called the parameter setting proposal. It is quite contro-
versial, but it provides us with one picture of what it might mean for a child to
be prepared to learn a language with innate, language-specific knowledge.
■ Learning the structure of language has been proposed to include
learning the setting of 100 or so parameters on which natural lan-
guages vary.
◆ Conclusions: The Uniqueness of Language:
A Summary
Although it is clear that human language is a very different communication
system than those of other species, the jury is still very much out on the issue
of whether language is really a system different from other human cognitive
systems. The status of language is a major issue for cognitive psychology. The
issue will be resolved by empirical and theoretical efforts more detailed than
those reviewed in this chapter. The ideas here have served to define the context
for the investigation. The next chapter will review the current state of our knowl-
edge about the details of language comprehension. Careful experimental research
on such topics will finally resolve the question of the uniqueness of language.
Anderson_8e_Ch12.indd 311 13/09/14 9:58 AM
312 / Chapter 12 L a n g u a g e S T r u C T u r e
Questions for Thought
1. A number of computer-based approaches to
representing meaning are based on having these
programs read through large sets of documents
and having them represent the meaning of a word
in terms of what other words occurred with it
in these documents. One interesting feature of
these efforts is that they make no attempt to in-
clude knowledge of the physical world and what
words refer to. Perhaps the most well-known
system is called latent semantic analysis (LSA—
Landauer, Foltz, & Laham, 1998). The authors of
LSA describe the knowledge in their system as
“analogous to a well-read nun’s knowledge of sex,
a level of knowledge often deemed a sufficient
basis for advising the young” (p. 5). Based on this
knowledge, LSA was able to pass the vocabulary
test from the Educational Testing Service’s Test of
English as a Foreign Language. The test requires
that one choose which of four alternatives best
matches the meaning of a word, and LSA was able
to do this by comparing its meaning representa-
tion of the word (based on what documents the
word appeared in) with its meaning representation
of the alternatives (again based on the same infor-
mation). Why do you think such a program is so
successful? How would you devise a vocabulary
test to expose aspects of meaning that it does not
represent?
2. In addition to the pauses and speech errors dis-
cussed in the chapter, spontaneous speech con-
tains fillers like uh and um in English (different
languages use different fillers). H. H. Clark and
Fox Tree (2002) report that um tends to be as-
sociated with a longer delay in speech than uh. In
terms of phrase structure, where would you expect
to see uh and um located?
3. Some languages assign grammatical genders to
words that do not have inherent genders, and
they appear to do so arbitrarily. So, for instance,
the German word for key is masculine and the
Spanish word for key is feminine. Boroditsky,
Schmidt, and Phillips (2003) report that when
asked to describe a key, German speakers are
more likely to use words like hard and jagged,
whereas Spanish speakers are more likely to use
words like shiny and tiny. What does evidence like
this say about the relationship between language
and thought?
4. When two linguistic communities often come
into contact, such as in trade, they often
develop simplified languages, called pidgins, for
communicating. These languages are generally
considered not full natural languages. However,
if these language communities live together, the
pidgins will evolve into full-fledged new languages
called creoles. This can happen in one generation,
in which the parents who first made contact
with the new linguistic community continue
to use the pidgin, whereas their children are
speaking the full-fledged creole. What does this
say about the possible role of a critical period in
language acquisition?
Key Terms
competence
grammar
language universals
linguistic determinism
linguistic intuitions
linguistics
modularity
natural languages
parameter setting
performance
phonology
phrase structure
productivity
regularity
semantics
syntax
transformation
Anderson_8e_Ch12.indd 312 13/09/14 9:58 AM
313
A favorite device in science fiction is the computer or robot that can understand
and speak language—whether evil like HAL in 2001 or beneficent like C3PO in
Star Wars. Stanley Kubrick was clearly incorrect when he projected HAL for the year
2001, but the appearance of applications like Siri and Google Voice Search shows
that workers in artificial intelligence are making progress in developing computers
that can understand and generate language. In the last 60 years, artificial intelligence
has managed to master some but not all of what a child masters in a few years. An
enormous amount of knowledge and intelligence underlies humans’ successful use
of language.
This chapter will look at language use and, in particular, at language comprehen-
sion (as distinct from language generation). This focus will enable us to look where
the light is—more is known about language comprehension than about language
generation. Language comprehension will be considered in regard to both listening
and reading. The listening process is often thought to be the more basic of the two.
However, many of the same factors apply to both listening and reading. Researchers’
choice between written or spoken material is determined by what is easier to do
experimentally. More often than not, written material is used.
We will consider a detailed analysis of the process of language comprehension,
breaking it down into three stages. The first stage involves the perceptual processes
that encode the spoken (acoustic) or written message. The second stage is termed
the parsing stage. Parsing is the process by which the words in the message
are transformed into a mental representation of the combined meaning of the words.
The third stage is the utilization stage, in which comprehenders use the mental
representation of the sentence’s meaning. If the sentence is an assertion, listeners
may simply store the meaning in memory; if it is a question, they may answer; if it is
an instruction, they may obey. However, listeners are not always so compliant. They
may use an assertion about the weather to make an inference about the speaker’s
personality, they may answer a question with a question, or they may do just the
opposite of what the speaker asks. These three stages—perception, parsing, and
utilization—are by necessity partly ordered in time; however, they also partly overlap.
Listeners can make inferences from the first part of a sentence while they are per-
ceiving a later part. This chapter will focus on the two higher-level processes—parsing
and utilization. (The perceptual stage was discussed in Chapter 2.)
In this chapter, we will answer the following questions:
● How are individual words combined into the meaning of phrases?
● How is syntactic and semantic information combined in sentence interpretation?
● What inferences do comprehenders make as they hear a sentence?
● How are meanings of individual sentences combined in the processing of larger
units of discourse?
13
Language Comprehension
Anderson_8e_Ch13.indd 313 13/09/14 10:00 AM
314 / Chapter 13 L A n G u A G e C O M P R e H e n S I O n
◆ Brain and Language Comprehension
Figure 12.1 in Chapter 12 highlighted the classic language-processing regions
that are active when single sentences are being processed in the parsing stage.
However, when we consider the utilization stage and the processing of larger
units of discourse, we find many other regions of the brain active. Figure 13.1
illustrates some of the regions identified by Mason and Just (2006) in discourse
processing (for a richer representation of all the areas, see Color Plate 13.1).
One can take the union of Figures 12.1 and 13.1 as something closer to the to-
tal brain network involved in language processing. These figures make clear the
fact that language comprehension involves much of the brain and many cogni-
tive processes.
■ Comprehension consists of a perceptual stage, a parsing stage, and
a utilization stage, in that order.
◆ Parsing
Constituent Structure
Language is structured according to a set of rules that tell us how to go from a
particular string of words to the string’s meaning. For instance, in English we
know that if we hear a sequence of the form A noun action a noun, the speaker
means that an instance of the first noun performed the action on an instance of
the second noun. In contrast, if the sentence is of the form A noun was action
by a noun, the speaker means that an instance of the second noun performed
the action on an instance of the first noun. Thus, our knowledge of the struc-
ture of English allows us to grasp the difference between A doctor shot a lawyer
and A doctor was shot by a lawyer.
In learning to comprehend a language, we acquire a great many rules that
encode the various linguistic patterns in language and relate these patterns to
meaningful interpretations. However, we cannot possibly learn rules for every
possible sentence pattern—sentences can be very long and complex. A very large
(probably infinite) number of patterns would be required to encode all possible
sentence forms. Although we have not learned to interpret all possible full-
sentence patterns, we have learned to interpret subpatterns, or phrases, of these
sentences and to combine, or concatenate, the interpretations of these subpatterns.
Coherence monitoring
network
Text integration
network Coarse semantic
processing network
Spatial imagery
network
Brain StructuresFIGURE 13.1 A representation
of some of the brain regions
involved in discourse processing.
(Reprinted from Mason, R. A., & Just,
M. A. (2006). Neuroimaging con-
tributions to the understanding of
discourse processes. In M. Traxler &
M. A. Gernsbacher (Eds.), Hand-
book of psycholinguistics
(pp. 765–799). Copyright © 2006
with permission of Elsevier.)
Anderson_8e_Ch13.indd 314 13/09/14 10:00 AM
PA R S I n G / 315
These subpatterns correspond to basic phrases, or units, in a sentence’s structure.
These phrase units are also referred to as constituents. From the late 1950s to the
early 1980s, a series of studies were performed that established the psychological
reality of phrase structure (or constituent structure) in language processing.
Chapter 12 reviewed some of the research documenting the importance of phrase
structure in language generation. Here, we review some of the evidence for the
psychological reality of this constituent structure in comprehension.
We might expect that the more clearly identifiable the constituent structure
of a sentence is, the more easily the sentence can be understood. Graf and
Torrey (1966) presented sentences to participants a line at a time. The passages
were presented either in form A, in which each line corresponded to a major
constituent boundary, or in form B, in which there was no such correspondence.
Examples of the two types of passages follow:
Form A Form B
During World War II During World War
even fantastic schemes II even fantastic
received consideration schemes received
if they gave promise consideration if they gave
of shortening the conflict. promise of shortening the conflict.
Participants showed better comprehension of passages in form A. This finding
demonstrates that the identification of constituent structure is important to the
parsing of a sentence.
When people read such passages, they naturally pause at boundaries be-
tween phrases. Aaronson and Scarborough (1977) asked participants to read
sentences displayed word by word on a computer screen. Participants would
press a key each time they wanted to read another word. Figure 13.2 illustrates
the pattern of reading times for a sentence that participants were reading for
later recall. Notice the U-shaped patterns with prolonged pauses at the phrase
boundaries. With the completion of each major phrase, participants seemed to
need time to process it.
After one has processed the words in a phrase in order to understand
it, there is no need to make further reference to these exact words. Thus, we
might predict that people would have poor memory for the exact wording of a
constituent after it has been parsed and the parsing of another constituent has
Word in sentence
Because
of its
itslasting
construction
as
well
as
motor’s
power
the
boat
was of high
quality
Ti
m
e
(s
)
.3
.4
.5
.6
.7
.8
.9
FIGURE 13.2 Word-by-word reading times for a sample sentence. The short-line markers
on the graph indicate breaks between phrase structures. (Reprinted from Aaronson, D., &
Scarborough, H. S. (1977). Performance theories for sentence coding: Some quantitative
models. Journal of Verbal Learning and Verbal Behavior, 16, 277–304. Copyright © 1977 with
permission of Elsevier.)
Anderson_8e_Ch13.indd 315 13/09/14 10:00 AM
316 / Chapter 13 L A n G u A G e C O M P R e H e n S I O n
begun. The results of an experiment by Jarvella (1971) confirm this prediction.
He read to participants passages with interruptions at various points. At each
interruption, participants were instructed to write down as much of the passage
as they could remember. Of interest were passages that ended with 13-word
sentences such as the following one:
1 2 3 4 5 6
Having failed to disprove the charges,
7 8 9 10 11 12 13
Taylor was later fired by the president.
After hearing the last word, participants were prompted with the first word
of the sentence and asked to recall the remaining words. Each sentence was
composed of a 6-word subordinate clause followed by a 7-word main clause.
Figure 13.3 plots the probability of recall for each of the remaining 12 words in
the sentence (excluding the first, which was used as a prompt). Note the sharp
rise in the function at word 7, the beginning of the main clause. These data
show that participants have best memory for the last major constituent, a result
consistent with the hypothesis that they retain a verbatim representation of the
last constituent only.
An experiment by Caplan (1972) also presents evidence for the use of con-
stituent structure, but this study used a reaction time methodology. Participants
were presented aurally first with a sentence and then with a probe word; they
then had to indicate as quickly as possible whether the probe word was in the
sentence. Caplan contrasted pairs of sentences such as the following pair:
1. Now that artists are working fewer hours oil prints are rare.
2. Now that artists are working in oil prints are rare.
Caplan was interested in how quickly participants would recognize oil in these
two sentences when probed at the ends of the sentences. The sentences were
cleverly constructed so that, in both sentences, the word oil was fourth from
the end and was followed by the same words. In fact, by splicing audio tape,
Caplan arranged the presentation so that participants heard the same record-
ing of these last four words, regardless of which full sentence they heard. How-
ever, in sentence 1, oil is part of the last constituent, oil prints are rare, whereas,
in sentence 2, it is part of the first constituent, now that artists are working in
oil. Caplan predicted that participants would recognize oil more quickly in sen-
tence 1 because they would still have active in memory a representation of this
1.0
0.9
0.8
0.7
1 12 132 43 5 6 7 8 9 10 11
Ordinal position of word
Pr
op
or
tio
n
co
rre
ct
re
ca
ll
FIGURE 13.3 Probability of
recalling a word as a function of
its position in the last 13 words
in a passage. (Reprinted from
Jarvella, R. J. (1971). Syntactic
processing of connected speech.
Journal of Verbal Learning and
Verbal Behavior, 10, 409–416.
Copyright © 1971 with permission
of Elsevier.)
Anderson_8e_Ch13.indd 316 13/09/14 10:00 AM
PA R S I n G / 317
constituent. As he predicted, the probe word was recognized more rapidly if it
was in the last constituent.
■ Participants process the meaning of a sentence one phrase at a time
and maintain access to a phrase only while processing its meaning.
Immediacy of Interpretation
An important principle to emerge in more recent studies of language
processing is called the principle of immediacy of interpretation. This
principle asserts that people try to extract meaning out of each word as it
arrives and do not wait until the end of a sentence or even the end of a phrase
to decide how to interpret a word. For instance, Just and Carpenter (1980)
studied the eye movements of participants as they read a sentence. While
reading a sentence, participants will typically fixate on almost every word.
The amount of time people spend fixating on a word is strongly influenced by
factors like the frequency of the word or its predictability (Rayner, 2009). Thus,
if a sentence contains an unfamiliar or a surprising word, participants pause on
that word. They also pause longer at the end of the phrase containing that word.
Figure 13.4 illustrates the eye fixations of one of their college students reading
a scientific passage. The circles are above the words the student fixated on, and
in each circle is the duration of that fixation. The order of the gazes is left to
right except for the three gazes above engine contains, where the order of gazes
is indicated. Note that unimportant function
words such as the and to may be skipped or, if
not skipped, receive relatively little processing.
Note the amount of time spent on the word
flywheel. The participant did not wait until the
end of the sentence to think about this word.
Again, look at the amount of time spent on the
highly informative adjective mechanical—the
participant did not wait until the end of the noun
phrase to think about it.
Eye movements have also been used to
study the comprehension of spoken language. In
one of these studies (Allopenna, Magnuson, &
Tanenhaus, 1998), participants were shown com-
puter displays of objects like that in Figure 13.5
and processed instructions such as
Pick up the beaker and put it below the
diamond.
Participants would perform this action by selecting
the object with a mouse and moving it, but the
1,566 267 100 83 267 617 767 150 150 100
483 450 383 317383281 533 50 366 566283
1,116616 517
684
317 617 367 467250
Flywheels are one of the oldest mechanical devices known to man. Every
internal-combustion engine contains a small flywheel that converts the jerky
motion of the pistons into the smooth flow of energy that powers the drive shaft.
FIGURE 13.4 The time spent by
a college reader on the words in
the opening two sentences of a
technical article about flywheels.
The times, indicated above the
fixated word, are expressed in
milliseconds. This reader read
the sentences from left to right,
with one regressive fixation to
an earlier part. (Just, M. A., &
Carpenter, P. A. (1980). A theory
of reading: From eye fixations to
comprehension. Psychological
Review, 87, 329–354. Copyright
© 1980 American Psychological
Association. Reprinted by
permission.)
+
FIGURE 13.5 An example of
a computer display used in
the study of Allopenna et al.
(Allopenna, P. D., Magnuson,
J. S., & Tanenhaus, M. K. (1998).
Tracking the time course of spo-
ken word recognition using eye
movements: Evidence for con-
tinuous mapping models. Journal
of Memory and Language, 38,
419–439. Copyright © 1998
with permission of Elsevier.)
Anderson_8e_Ch13.indd 317 13/09/14 10:00 AM
318 / Chapter 13 L A n G u A G e C O M P R e H e n S I O n
2000
0.2
0
0.4
0.6
0.8
1.0
400 600 800
Time since target onset (ms)
Fix
at
io
n
pr
ob
ab
ilit
y
1,000
Average target offset
Referent (e.g., “beaker”)
Cohort (e.g., “beetle”)
Unrelated (e.g., “carriage”)
FIGURE 13.6 Probability of
fixating different items in the
display as a function of time from
onset of the critical word beaker.
(Reprinted from Allopenna, P. D.,
Magnuson, J. S., & Tanenhaus,
M. K. (1998). Tracking the time
course of spoken word recognition
using eye movements: Evidence
for continuous mapping models.
Journal of Memory and Language,
38, 419–439. Copyright © 1998
with permission of Elsevier.)
experiment was done to study their eye movements
that preceded any mouse action. Figure 13.6 shows the
probabilities that participants fixate on various items
in the display as a function of time since the beginning
of the articulation of “beaker.” It can be seen that par-
ticipants are beginning to look to the two items that
start with the same sound (“beaker” and “beetle”) even
before the articulation of the word finishes. It takes
about 400 ms to say the word. Almost immediately
upon offset of the word, their fixations on the wrong
item (“beetle”) decrease and their fixations on the cor-
rect item (“beaker”) shoot up. Given that it takes about
200 ms to program an eye movement, this study pro-
vides evidence that participants are processing the
meaning of a word even before it completes.
This immediacy of processing implies that we
will begin to interpret a sentence even before we en-
counter the main verb. Sometimes we are aware of
wondering what the verb will be as we hear the sentence. We are likely to expe-
rience something like this in constructions that put the verb last. Consider what
happens as we process the following sentence:
● It was the most expensive car that the CEO of the successful startup
bought.
Before we get to bought, we already have some idea of what might be happening
between the CEO and the car. Although this sentence structure with the main
verb at the end is unusual for English, it is not unusual for languages such as
German. Listeners of these languages do develop strong expectations about the
sentence before seeing the verb (see Clifton & Duffy, 2001, for a review).
If people process a sentence as each word comes in, why is there so much
evidence for the importance of phrase-structure boundaries? The evidence re-
flects the fact that the meaning of a sentence is defined in terms of the phrase
structure, and, even if listeners try to extract all they can from each word, they
will be able to put some things into place only when they reach the end of a
phrase. Thus, people often need extra time at a phrase boundary to complete
this processing. People have to maintain a representation of the current phrase
in memory because their interpretation of it may be wrong, and they may have
to reinterpret the beginning of the phrase. Just and Carpenter (1980), in their
study of reading times, found that participants tend to spend extra time at the
end of each phrase in wrapping up the meaning conveyed by that phrase.
■ In processing a sentence, we try to extract as much information as
possible from each word and spend some additional wrap-up time at
the end of each phrase.
The Processing of Syntactic Structure
The basic task in parsing a sentence is to combine the meanings of the indi-
vidual words to arrive at a meaning for the overall sentence. There are two basic
sources of syntactic information that can guide us in this task. One source is
word order and the other is inflectional structure. The following two sentences,
although they have identical words, have very different meanings:
1. The dog bit the cat.
2. The cat bit the dog.
Anderson_8e_Ch13.indd 318 13/09/14 10:00 AM
PA R S I n G / 319
The dominant syntactic cue in English is word order. Other languages rely
less on word order and instead use inflections of words to indicate semantic
role. There is a small remnant of such an inflectional system in some English
pronouns. For instance, he and him, I and me, and so on, signal subject versus
object. McDonald (1984) compared English with German, which has a richer
inflectional system. She asked her English participants to interpret sentences
such as
3. Him kicked the girl.
4. The girl kicked he.
The word-order cue in these sentences suggests one interpretation, whereas
the inflection cue suggests an alternative interpretation. English speakers
use the word-order cue, interpreting sentence 3 with him as the subject
and the girl as the object. German speakers, judging comparable sentences
in German, do just the opposite. Bilingual speakers of both German and
English tend to interpret the English sentences more like German sen-
tences; that is, they assign him in sentence 3 to the object role and girl to the
subject role.
An interesting case of combining word order and inflection in English
requires the use of relative clauses. Consider the following sentence:
5. The boy the girl liked was sick.
This sentence is an example of a center-embedded sentence: One clause, the
girl liked (the boy), is embedded in another clause, The boy was sick. As we will
see, there is evidence that people have difficulty with such clauses, perhaps
in part because the beginning of the sentence is ambiguous. For instance, the
sentence could have concluded as follows:
6. The boy the girl and the dog were sick.
To prevent such ambiguity, English offers relative pronouns, which are effectively
like inflections, to indicate the role of the upcoming words:
7. The boy whom the girl liked was sick.
Sentences 5 and 7 are equivalent except that sentence 5 lacks whom, a relative
pronoun indicating that the upcoming words are part of an embedded clause.
One might expect that it is easier to process sentences if they have relative
pronouns to signal the embedding of clauses. Hakes and Foss (1970; Hakes,
1972) tested this prediction by using the phoneme-monitoring task. They used
double-embedded sentences such as
8. The zebra which the lion that the gorilla chased killed was running.
9. The zebra the lion the gorilla chased killed was running.
The only difference between sentences 8 and 9 is whether there are relative
pronouns. Participants were required to perform two simultaneous tasks. One
task was to comprehend and paraphrase the sentence. The second task was to
listen for a particular phoneme—in this case a /g/ (in gorilla). Hakes and Foss
predicted that the more difficult a sentence was to comprehend, the more time
participants would take to detect the target phoneme, because they would have
less attention left over from the comprehension task with which to perform
the monitoring. This prediction was confirmed; participants did take longer to
indicate hearing /g/ when presented with sentences such as sentence 9, which
lacked relative pronouns.
Although the use of relative pronouns facilitates the processing of such
sentences, there is evidence that center-embedded sentences are quite difficult
Anderson_8e_Ch13.indd 319 13/09/14 10:00 AM
320 / Chapter 13 L A n G u A G e C O M P R e H e n S I O n
even with the relative pronouns. In one experiment, Caplan, Alpert, Waters,
and Olivieri (2000) compared center-embedded sentences such as
10. The juice that the child enjoyed stained the rug.
with comparable sentences that are not center-embedded such as
11. The child enjoyed the juice that stained the rug.
They used PET brain-imaging measures to detect processing differences and
found greater activation in Broca’s area with center-embedded sentences.
Broca’s area is usually found to be more active when participants have to deal
with more complex sentence structures (R. C. Martin, 2003).
■ People use the syntactic cues of word order and inflection to help
interpret a sentence.
Semantic Considerations
People use syntactic patterns, such as those illustrated in the preceding
subsection, for understanding sentences, but they can also make use of the mean-
ings of the words themselves. A person can determine the meaning of a string of
words simply by considering how they can be put together so as to make sense.
Thus, when Tarzan says, Jane fruit eat, we know what he means even though this
sentence does not correspond to the syntax of English. We realize that a relation
is being asserted between someone capable of eating and something edible.
Considerable evidence suggests that people use such semantic strategies in
language comprehension. Strohner and Nelson (1974) had 2- and 3-year-old
children use animal dolls to act out the following two sentences:
1. The cat chased the mouse.
2. The mouse chased the cat.
In both cases, the children interpreted the sentence to mean that the cat chased
the mouse, a meaning that corresponded to their prior knowledge about cats
and mice. Thus, these young children were relying more heavily on semantic
patterns than on syntactic patterns.
In a study looking at adult comprehension of such sentences, Ferreira (2003)
found that while adults could correctly interpret such sentences when presented
in active form, they had difficulty when presented in passive form:
3. The man was bit by the dog.
4. The dog was bit by the man.
When asked who did the action, adults were 99% accurate with active sentences
like 1 and 2 above, but only 88% accurate with the passive sentences like 3, and
their accuracy dropped to a mere 74% for implausible passives like 4. That is to
say, they said the dog did the action over 25% of the time.
So, when a semantic principle is placed in conflict with a syntactic
principle, the semantic principle will sometimes (but not always) determine
the interpretation of the sentence. If you have any doubt about the power of
semantics to dominate syntax, consider the following sentence:
No head injury is too trivial to be ignored.
If you interpreted this sentence to mean that no head injury should be ignored,
you are in the vast majority (Wason & Reich, 1979). However, a careful
inspection of the syntax will indicate that the “correct” meaning is that all head
injuries should be ignored—consider “No missile is too small to be banned”—
which means all missiles should be banned.
Anderson_8e_Ch13.indd 320 13/09/14 10:00 AM
PA R S I n G / 321
■ Sometimes people rely on the plausible semantic interpretation of
words in a sentence.
The Integration of Syntax and Semantics
Listeners appear to combine both syntactic and semantic information in com-
prehending a sentence. Tyler and Marslen-Wilson (1977) asked participants to
try to continue fragments such as
1. If you walk too near the runway, landing planes are
2. If you’ve been trained as a pilot, landing planes are
The phrase landing planes, by itself, is ambiguous. It can mean either
“planes that are landing” or “to land planes.” However, when followed by the
plural verb are, the phrase must have the first meaning. Thus, the syntactic
constraints determine a meaning for the ambiguous phrase. The prior context
in fragment 1 is consistent with this meaning, whereas the prior context in
fragment 2 is not. Participants took less time to continue fragment 1, which
suggests that they were using both the semantics of the prior context and the
syntax of the current phrase to disambiguate landing planes. When these factors
are in conflict, the participant’s comprehension is slowed.1
Bates, McNew, MacWhinney, Devescovi, and Smith (1982) looked at the
matter of combining syntax and semantics in a different paradigm. They had
participants interpret word strings such as
● Chased the dog the eraser
If you were forced to, what meaning would you assign to this word string? The
syntactic fact that objects follow verbs seems to imply that the dog was being
chased and the eraser did the chasing. The semantics, however, suggest the
opposite. In fact, American speakers prefer to go with the syntax but will some-
times adopt the semantic interpretation—that is, most say The eraser chased the
dog, but some say The dog chased the eraser. On the other hand, if the word
string is
● Chased the eraser the dog
listeners agree on the interpretation—that is, that the dog chased the eraser.
Another interesting part of the study by Bates et al. compared Americans
with Italians. When syntactic cues were put in conflict with semantic cues, Italians
tended to go with the semantic cues, whereas Americans preferred the syntactic
cues. The most critical case concerned sentences such as
● The eraser bites the dog
or its Italian translation:
● La gomma morde il cane
Americans almost always followed the syntax and interpreted this sentence to
mean that the eraser is doing the biting. In contrast, Italians preferred to use the
semantics and interpret that the dog is doing the biting. Like English, however,
Italian has a subject-verb-object syntax.
Thus, we see that listeners combine both syntactic and semantic cues in inter-
preting the sentence. Moreover, the weighting of these two types of cues can vary
from language to language. This evidence and other results indicate that speakers
of Italian weight semantic cues more heavily than do speakers of English.
1 The original Tyler and Marslen-Wilson experiment drew methodological criticisms from Townsend and
Bever (1982) and Cowart (1983). For a response, read Marslen-Wilson and Tyler (1987).
Anderson_8e_Ch13.indd 321 13/09/14 10:00 AM
322 / Chapter 13 L A n G u A G e C O M P R e H e n S I O n
■ People integrate semantic and syntactic cues to arrive at an
interpretation of a sentence.
Neural Indicants of Syntactic and Semantic Processing
Researchers have found two indicants of sentence processing in event-related
potentials (ERPs) recorded from the brain. The first effect, called the N400, is
an indicant of difficulty in semantic processing. It was originally identified as
a response to semantic anomaly, although it is more general than that. Kutas
and Hillyard (1980) discovered the N400 in their original experiments when
participants heard semantically anomalous sentences such as “He spread the
warm bread with socks.” About 400 ms after the anomalous word (socks), ERP
recordings showed a large negative amplitude shift. Second, there is the P600,
which occurs in response to syntactic violations. For instance, Osterhout and
Holcomb (1992) presented their participants with sentences such as “The bro-
ker persuaded to sell the stock” and found a positive wave at about 600 ms after
the word to, which was the point at which there was a violation of the syntax. Of
particular interest in this context is the relation between the N400 and the P600.
Ainsworth-Darnell, Shulman, and Boland (1998) studied how these two
effects combined when participants heard sentences such as
Control: Jill entrusted the recipe to friends before she suddenly
disappeared.
Syntactic anomaly: Jill entrusted the recipe friends before she suddenly
disappeared.
Semantic anomaly: Jill entrusted the recipe to platforms before she
suddenly disappeared.
Double anomaly: Jill entrusted the recipe platforms before she suddenly
disappeared.
The last sentence combines a semantic and a syntactic anomaly. Figure 13.7
contrasts the ERP waveforms obtained from midline and parietal sites in
(a)
CTRL Cz
SYN Cz
SEM Cz
Both Cz2
4
6
–2
–4
–6
3,2502,0001,750 2,500
Time (ms) since onset of sentence
Time (ms) since onset of sentence
2,250 3,0002,750
N400
P600
0
M
icr
ov
ol
ts
(m
V)
M
icr
ov
ol
ts
(m
V)
(b)
CTRL Pz
SYN Pz
SEM Pz
Both Pz2
4
6
0
–2
–4
–6
3,2502,0001,750 2,5002,250 3,0002,750
N400
P600
FIGURE 13.7 eRP recordings
from (a) midline and (b) parietal
sites. The arrows point to the
onset of the critical word. (Re-
printed from Ainsworth-Darnell,
K., Shulman, H. G., & Boland,
J. E. (1998). Dissociating brain re-
sponses to syntactic and semantic
anomalies: Evidence from event-
related potentials. Journal of Mem-
ory and Language, 38, 112–130.
Copyright © 1998 with permission
of Elsevier.)
Anderson_8e_Ch13.indd 322 13/09/14 10:00 AM
PA R S I n G / 323
response to the various types of sentences. An arrow in the ERPs points to the
onset of the critical word ( friends or platforms). The two types of sentences
containing a semantic anomaly evoked a negative shift (N400) at the midline
site about 400 ms after the critical word (the curves labeled SEM and Both in
Figure 13.7a). In contrast, the two types of sentences containing a syntactic
anomaly were associated with a positive shift (P600) in the parietal site about
600 ms after the onset of the critical word (the curves labeled SYN and Both
in Figure 13.7b). Ainsworth et al. used the fact that each process—syntactic
and semantic—affects a different brain region to argue that the syntactic and
semantic processes are separable.
■ ERP recordings indicate syntactic and semantic violations elicit
different responses in different locations in the brain.
Ambiguity
Many sentences can be interpreted in two or more ways because of either
ambiguous words or ambiguous syntactic constructions. Examples of such
sentences are
● John went to the bank.
● Flying planes can be dangerous.
It is also useful to distinguish between transient ambiguity and perma-
nent ambiguity. The preceding examples are permanently ambiguous. That is,
the ambiguity remains to the end of the sentence. Transient ambiguity refers to
ambiguity in a sentence that is resolved by the end of the sentence; for example,
consider hearing a sentence that begins as follows:
● The old train . . .
At this point, whether old is a noun or an adjective is ambiguous. If the
sentence continues as follows,
● . . . left the station.
then old is an adjective modifying the noun train. On the other hand, if the sen-
tence continues as follows,
● . . . the young.
then old is the subject of the sentence and train is a verb. This is an example of
transient ambiguity—an ambiguity in the middle of a sentence for which the
resolution depends on how the sentence ends.
Transient ambiguity is quite prevalent in language, and it leads to a serious
interaction with the principle of immediacy of interpretation described earlier.
Immediacy of interpretation implies that we commit to an interpretation of a
word or a phrase right away, but transient ambiguity implies that we cannot
always know the correct interpretation immediately. Consider the following
sentence:
● The horse raced past the barn fell.
Most people do a double take on this sentence: they first read one
interpretation and then a second. Such sentences are called garden-path
sentences because we are “led down the garden path” and commit to one
interpretation at a certain point only to discover that it is wrong at another
point. For instance, in the preceding sentence, most readers interpret raced as
the main verb of the sentence. When they hear the final word, fell, they have
to reinterpret raced as a passive verb in a relative clause (i.e., “The horse that
was raced past the barn fell”). The existence of such garden-path sentences is
Anderson_8e_Ch13.indd 323 13/09/14 10:00 AM
324 / Chapter 13 L A n G u A G e C O M P R e H e n S I O n
considered to be one of the important pieces of evidence for the principle of
immediacy of interpretation. People could postpone interpreting such sen-
tences at points of ambiguity until the ambiguity is resolved, but they do not.
When one comes upon a point of syntactic ambiguity in a sentence, what
determines its interpretation? A powerful factor is the principle of minimal
attachment, which holds that people prefer to interpret a sentence in a way
that causes minimal complication of its phrase structure. Because all sentences
must have a main verb, the simple interpretation would be to include raced in
the main sentence rather than creating a relative clause to modify the noun
horse. Many times we are not aware of the transient ambiguities that exist in
sentences. For instance, consider the following sentence:
● The woman painted by the artist fell.
As we will see, people seem to have difficulty with this sentence (temporarily
interpreting the woman as the one doing the painting), just like the earlier horse
raced sentence. However, people tend not be aware of taking a garden path in
the way that they are with the horse raced sentence.
Why are we aware of a reinterpretation in some sentences, such as the
horse raced example, but not in others, such as the woman painted example?
If a syntactic ambiguity is resolved quickly after we encounter it, we seem to
be unaware of ever considering two interpretations. Only if resolution is post-
poned substantially beyond the ambiguous phrase are we aware of the need to
reinterpret it (Ferreira & Henderson, 1991). Thus, in the woman painted exam-
ple, the ambiguity is resolved immediately after the verb painted, and thus most
people are not aware of the ambiguity. In contrast, in the horse raced example,
the sentence seems to successfully complete as The horse raced past the barn
only to have this interpretation contradicted by the last word fell.
■ When people come to a point of ambiguity in a sentence, they
adopt one interpretation, which they will have to retract if it is later
contradicted.
Neural Indicants of the Processing of
Transient Ambiguity
Brain-imaging studies reveal a good deal about how people process ambiguous
sentences. In one study, Mason, Just, Keller, and Carpenter (2003) compared
three kinds of sentences:
Unambiguous: The experienced soldiers spoke about the dangers of the
midnight raid.
Ambiguous preferred: The experienced soldiers warned about the dangers
before the midnight raid.
Ambiguous unpreferred: The experienced soldiers warned about the
dangers conducted the midnight raid.
The verb spoke in the first sentence is unambiguous, but the verb warned in
the last two sentences has a transient ambiguity of just the sort described in the
preceding subsection: Until the end of the sentence, one cannot know whether
the soldiers are doing the warning or are being warned. As noted, participants
prefer the first interpretation. Mason et al. collected fMRI measures of activa-
tion in Broca’s area as participants read the sentences. These data are plotted in
Figure 13.8 as a function of time since the onset of the sentences (which lasted
approximately 6–7 s). As is typical of fMRI measures, the differences among
conditions show up only after the processing of the sentences, corresponding
to the lag in the hemodynamic response. As can be seen, the unambiguous
Garden Path
Anderson_8e_Ch13.indd 324 13/09/14 10:00 AM
PA R S I n G / 325
sentence results in the least activation, owing to the
greater ease in processing that sentence. However, in
comparing the two ambiguous sentences, we see that
activation is greater for the sentence that ends in the
unpreferred way.
FMRI measures such as those in Figure 13.8
can localize areas in the brain in which processing is
taking place, in this case confirming the critical role
of Broca’s area in the processing of sentence struc-
ture. However, these measures do not identify the
fine-grained temporal structure of the processing.
An ERP study by Frisch, Schlesewsky, Saddy, and
Alpermann (2002) investigated the temporal aspect
of how people deal with ambiguity. Their study was
with German speakers and took advantage of the fact
that some German nouns are ambiguous in their role
assignment. They looked at German sentences that
begin with either of two different nouns and end with
a verb. In the following examples, each German sentence is followed by a word-
by-word translation and then the equivalent English sentence:
1. Die Frau hatte den Mann gesehen.
The woman had the man seen
The woman had seen the man.
2. Die Frau hatte der Mann gesehen.
The woman had the man seen
The man had seen the woman.
3. Den Mann hatte die Frau gesehen.
The man had the woman seen
The woman had seen the man.
4. Der Mann hatte die Frau gesehen.
The man had the woman seen
The man had seen the woman.
Note that, when participants read Die Frau at the beginning of sentences 1 and
2, they do not know whether the woman is the subject or the object of the sen-
tence. Only when they read den Mann in sentence 1 can they infer that man
is an object (because of the determiner den) and hence that woman must be
the subject. Similarly, der Mann in sentence 2 indicates that man is the subject
and therefore woman must be the object. Sentences 3 and 4, because they begin
with Mann and its inflected article, do not have this transient ambiguity. The
difference in when one can interpret these sentences depends on the fact that
the masculine article der is inflected for the objective case in German but the
feminine article die is not.
Frisch et al. used the P600 (already described with respect to Figure 13.7)
to investigate the syntactic processing of these sentences. They found that the
ambiguous first noun in sentences 1 and 2 was followed by a stronger P600
than were the unambiguous first noun in sentences 3 and 4. The contrast be-
tween sentences 1 and 2 also is interesting. Although German allows for either
subject-object or object-subject ordering, the subject-object structure in sen-
tence 1 is preferred. For the unpreferred sentence (2), Frisch et al. found that
the second noun was followed by a greater P600. Thus, when participants
reach a transient ambiguity, as in sentences 1 and 2, they seem to immediately
20
0.5
1
1.5
2
2.5
4 6 8 10
Time (s)
Ch
an
ge
fr
om
fi
xa
tio
n
(%
)
12 14
Unambiguous
Ambiguous preferred
Ambiguous unpreferred
FIGURE 13.8 The average
activation change in Broca’s area
for three types of sentences
as a function of time from the
beginning of the sentence. (From
Mason, R. A., Just, M. A., Keller,
T. A., & Carpenter, P. A. (2003).
Ambiguity in the brain: How syn-
tactically ambiguous sentences are
processed. Journal of experimental
Psychology: Learning, Memory,
and Cognition, 29, 1319–1338.
Copyright © 2003 American Psy-
chological Association. Reprinted by
permission.)
Anderson_8e_Ch13.indd 325 13/09/14 10:00 AM
326 / Chapter 13 L A n G u A G e C O M P R e H e n S I O n
have to work harder to deal with the ambiguity. They commit to the preferred
interpretation and have to do further work when they learn that it is not the
correct interpretation, as in sentence 2.
■ Activity in Broca’s area increases when participants encounter a
transient ambiguity and when they have to change an initial inter-
pretation of a sentence.
Lexical Ambiguity
The preceding discussion was concerned with how participants deal with syn-
tactic ambiguity. In lexical ambiguity, where a single word has two meanings,
there is often no structural difference in the two interpretations of a sentence.
A series of experiments beginning with Swinney (1979) helped to reveal how
people determine the meaning of ambiguous words. Swinney asked participants
to listen to sentences such as
● The man was not surprised when he found several spiders, roaches, and
other bugs in the corner of the room.
Swinney was concerned with the ambiguous word bugs (meaning either insects
or electronic listening devices). Just after hearing the word, participants would
be presented with a string of letters on the screen, and their task was to judge
whether that string made a correct word. Thus, if they saw ant, they would
say yes; but if they saw ont, they would say no. This is the lexical-decision task
described in Chapter 6 in relation to the mechanisms of spreading activation.
Swinney was interested in how the word bugs in the passage would prime the
lexical judgment.
The critical contrasts involved the relative times to judge spy, ant, or sew, fol-
lowing bugs. The word ant is related to the primed meaning of bugs, whereas spy
is related to the unprimed meaning. The word sew defines a neutral control con-
dition. Swinney found that recognition of either spy or ant was facilitated if that
word was presented within 400 ms of the prime, bugs. Thus, the presentation of
bugs immediately activates both of its meanings and their associations. If Swinney
waited more than 700 ms, however, only the related word ant was facilitated. It
appears that a correct meaning is selected during this time and the other meaning
becomes deactivated. Thus, two meanings of an ambiguous word are momentar-
ily active, but context operates very rapidly to select the appropriate meaning.
■ When an ambiguous word is presented, participants select a
particular meaning within 700 ms.
Modularity Compared with Interactive Processing
There are two bases by which people can disambiguate ambiguous sentences.
One possibility is the use of semantics, which is the basis for disambiguating
the word bugs in the sentence given in the preceding subsection. The other
possibility is the use of syntax. Advocates of the language-modularity position
(see Chapter 12) have argued that there is an initial phase in which we merely
process syntax, and only later do we bring semantic factors to bear. Thus, ini-
tially only syntax is available for disambiguation, because syntax is part of a
language-specific module that can operate quickly by itself. In contrast, to bring
semantics to bear requires using all of one’s world knowledge, which goes far
beyond anything that is language specific. Opposing the modularity position is
that of interactive processing, the proponents of which argue that syntax and
semantics are combined at all levels of processing.
Anderson_8e_Ch13.indd 326 13/09/14 10:00 AM
PA R S I n G / 327
Much of the debate between these two positions has concerned the pro-
cessing of transient syntactic ambiguity. Ferreira and Clifton (1986) performed
an initial experiment that provoked a great deal of debate and further research.
They asked their participants to read sentences such as
1. The woman painted by the artist was very attractive to look at.
2. The woman that was painted by the artist was very attractive to look at.
3. The sign painted by the artist was very attractive to look at.
4. The sign that was painted by the artist was very attractive to look at.
Sentences 1 and 3 are called reduced relatives because the relative pronoun that
is missing. There is no local syntactic basis for deciding whether the noun-verb
combinations (“The woman painted” in sentence 1, “The sign painted” in sen-
tence 3) are relative clause constructions or agent-action combinations. Ferreira
and Clifton argued that, because of the principle of minimal attachment,
people have a natural tendency to encode noun-verb combinations such as The
woman painted as agent-action combinations. Evidence for this tendency is that
participants take longer to read by the artist in the first sentence than in the
second. The reason is that they discover that their agent-action interpretation is
wrong in the first sentence and have to recover, whereas the syntactic cue that was
in the second sentence prevents them from ever making this misinterpretation.
The real interest in the Ferreira and Clifton experiments is in sentences 3
and 4. Semantic factors should rule out the agent-action interpretation of sen-
tence 3, because a sign cannot be an animate agent and engage in painting.
Nonetheless, participants took longer to read phrases like by the artist in sen-
tences like sentence 3 than they took to read such phrases in sentences like sen-
tence 1. For both kinds of sentences they were slower to read such phrases than
in unambiguous sentences like 2 and 4. Thus, argued Ferreira and Clifton, par-
ticipants first use only syntactic factors and so misinterpret the phrase The sign
painted and then use the syntactic cues in the phrase by the artist to correct that
misinterpretation. Thus, although semantic factors could have done the job and
prevented the misinterpretation for sentences like 3, participants seemingly do
all their initial processing by using syntactic cues.
Experiments of this sort have been used to argue for the modularity of
language. The argument is that our initial processing of language makes use of
something specific to language—namely, syntax—and ignores other general,
nonlinguistic knowledge that we have of the world, for example, that signs can-
not paint. However, Trueswell, Tannehaus, and Garnsey (1994) argued that many
of the supposedly unambiguous sentences with reduced relatives in the Ferreira
and Clifton study were not like sentence 3. Specifically, although the sentences
were supposed to have a semantic basis for disambiguation, many did not. For
instance, among the Ferreira and Clifton sentences were sentences such as
5. The car towed from the parking lot was parked illegally.
Here car towed was supposed to be unambiguous, but it is possible for car to be
the subject of towed as in
6. The car towed the smaller car from the parking lot.
When Trueswell et al. used sentences that avoided these problems, they found
that participants did not have any difficulty with the sentences. For instance,
participants showed no more difficulty with
7. The evidence examined by the lawyer turned out to be unreliable.
than with
8. The evidence that was examined by the lawyer turned out to be unreliable.
Anderson_8e_Ch13.indd 327 13/09/14 10:00 AM
328 / Chapter 13 L A n G u A G e C O M P R e H e n S I O n
Thus, people do seem to be able to select the correct interpretation when it is
not semantically possible to interpret the noun (evidence) as an agent of the
verb. This indicates that the initial syntactic decisions are not made without ref-
erence to semantic factors.
Additionally, McRae, Spivey-Knowlton, and Tannehaus (1998) showed that
the relative plausibility of the noun as agent of the verb affects the difficulty of
the construction. They compared the following pairs of sentences:
9. The cop arrested by the detective was guilty of taking bribes.
10. The cop that was arrested by the detective was guilty of taking bribes.
and
11. The crook arrested by the detective was guilty of taking bribes.
12. The crook that was arrested by the detective was guilty of taking bribes.
They found that participants suffered much greater difficulty with the reduced
relatives like sentence 9, where the subject cop is plausible as the agent for
arresting, than in sentence 11, where the subject crook is not.
■ Participants appear to be able to use semantic information
immediately to guide syntactic decisions.
Intelligent chatterboxes
Being able to communicate success-
fully in a language is very much tied
to our conception of human intel-
ligence. For instance, Alan Turing (a
famous British logician who broke
the secret communication code of
the nazis during World War II) pro-
posed in 1950 (Turing, 1950) that
we decide whether a machine is
intelligent by whether it can engage
in a conversation that convinces the
listener that it is a human. In what
has come to be known as the Turing
test, a judge would interact with a
human and a computer over a chat
system (to eliminate visual cues). If,
after conversing with both, the judge
could not determine which was
human and which was computer,
the computer would be declared to
be intelligent. Turing predicted that
by the year 2000 a computer would
be able to pass this test.
In 1990, the Loebner Prize was
created for the first computer that
could pass the Turing test. each year
a contest is held in which various
computer entries are judged. A
bronze prize is awarded yearly to
the program that gives the most
convincing conversation, but so far
no machine has been able to fool a
majority of the judges, which would
result in the silver prize (the gold
prize is reserved for something that
even looks like a human). The win-
ner in 2008, a program called elbot,
came close to winning the silver
prize, fooling 3 of the 12 judges. It
even deceived reporter Will Pavia of
the Times (“Machine Takes on Man
at Mass Turing Test”). Below are two
small snippets of conversation be-
tween an interrogator with a human
and with elbot. I have not identified
which is the human and which is the
computer. Try to judge which snip-
pet involves the human and which
involves elbot.
Snippet A
Interrogator: What do you think of
this year’s Turner Prize shortlist?
Respondent: Difficult question.
I will have to work on that and get
back to you tomorrow.
Interrogator: You sound rather like
Sarah Palin.
Respondent: Did this Palin ever
write a telephone book?
Interrogator: I doubt it. Does any-
one really write telephone books?
I don’t suppose you caught the
football last night?
Respondent: What a shame. There
are many talented authors who
waste their energies on prose or
run-of-the-mill poetry. But to write a
telephone book is highest art!
Snippet B
Interrogator: What do you think of
this year’s Turner Prize shortlist?
Respondent: good I think. Better
than the years before i herad
Interrogator: Which was your
favourite?
Respondent: It’s my first time, so I
can’t compare
Interrogator: no, I mean of the en-
tries this time around.
Respondent: not really sure
I m p l I c a t I o n s
▼
Hu
gh
L
oe
bn
er
.
▲
Anderson_8e_Ch13.indd 328 13/09/14 10:00 AM
u T I L I z AT I O n / 329
◆ Utilization
After a sentence has been parsed and mapped into a representation of its
meaning, what then? A listener seldom passively records the meaning. If the
sentence is a question or an imperative, for example, the speaker will expect
the listener to take some action in response. Even for declarative sentences,
moreover, there is usually more to be done than simply registering the sentence.
Fully understanding a sentence requires making inferences and connections. In
Chapter 6, we considered the way in which such elaborative processing leads to
better memory. Here, we will review some of the research on how people make
such inferences.
Bridging Versus Elaborative Inferences
In understanding a sentence, the comprehender must make inferences that go
beyond what is stated. Researchers typically distinguish between bridging infer-
ences (also called backward inferences) and elaborative inferences (also called
forward inferences). Bridging inferences reach back in the text to make connec-
tions with earlier parts of the text. Elaborative inferences add new information
to the interpretation of the text and often predict what will be coming up in the
text. To illustrate the difference between bridging and elaborative inferences,
contrast the following pairs of sentences used by Singer (1994):
1. Direct statement: The dentist pulled the tooth painlessly. The patient liked
the method.
2. Bridging inference: The tooth was pulled painlessly. The dentist used a
new method.
3. Elaborative inference: The tooth was pulled painlessly. The patient liked
the new method.
Having been presented with these sentence pairs, participants were asked
whether it was true that A dentist pulled the tooth. This is explicitly stated in
example 1, but it is also highly probable in examples 2 and 3, even though it is
not stated. The inference that the dentist pulled the tooth in example 2 is re-
quired in order to connect dentist in the second sentence to the first and thus
would be classified as a backward bridging inference. The inference in exam-
ple 3 is an elaboration (because a dentist is not mentioned in either sentence)
and so would be classified as a forward elaborative inference. Participants were
equally fast to verify A dentist pulled the tooth in the bridging-inference condi-
tion of example 2 as they were in the direct condition of example 1, indicating
that they made the bridging inference. However, they were about a quarter of a
second slower to verify the sentence in the elaborative-inference condition of
example 3, indicating that they had not made the elaborative inference.
The problem with elaborative inferences is that there are no bounds on
how many such inferences can be made. Consider the sentence The tooth
was pulled painlessly. In addition to inferring who pulled the tooth, one
could make inferences about what instrument was used to make the extrac-
tion, why the tooth was pulled, why the procedure was painless, how the pa-
tient felt, what happened to the patient afterward, which tooth was pulled
(e.g., incisor or molar), how easy the extraction was, and so on. Consider-
able research has been undertaken in trying to determine exactly which
elaborative inferences are made (Graesser, Singer, & Trabasso, 1994). In
the Singer (1994) study just described, the elaborative inference seems not
to have been made. As an example of a study in which an elaborative in-
ference seems to have been made, consider the experiment reported by
Anderson_8e_Ch13.indd 329 13/09/14 10:00 AM
330 / Chapter 13 L A n G u A G e C O M P R e H e n S I O n
Long, Golding, and Graesser (1992). They had participants read a story that
included the following critical sentence:
● A dragon kidnapped the three daughters.
After reading this sentence, participants made a lexical decision about the
word eat (a lexical decision task, discussed earlier in this chapter and in Chap-
ter 6, involves deciding whether a string of letters makes a word). Long et al.
found that participants could make the lexical decision more rapidly after
reading this sentence than in a neutral context. From this data, they argued
that participants made the inference that the dragon’s goal was to eat the
daughters (which had not been directly stated or even suggested in the story).
Long et al. argued that, when reading a story, we normally make inferences
about a character’s goals.
Although bridging inferences are made automatically, it is optional
whether people will make elaborative inferences. It takes effort to make
these inferences and readers need to be sufficiently engaged in the text
they are reading to make them. It also appears to depend on reading ability.
For instance, in one study Murray and Burke (2003) had participants read
passages like
Carol was fed up with her job waiting on tables. Customers were rude,
the chef was impossibly demanding, and the manager had made a pass
at her just that day. The last straw came when a rude man at one of her
tables complained that the spaghetti she had just served was cold. As
he became louder and nastier, she felt herself losing control.
The passage then ended with one of the following two sentences:
Experimental: Without thinking of the consequences, she picked up the
plate of spaghetti and raised it above the customer’s head.
Or
Control: To verify the complaint, she picked up the plate of spaghetti and
raised it above the customer’s head.
After reading this sentence, participants were presented with a critical word
like “dump,” which is related to an elaborative inference that readers would
only make in the experimental condition. They simply had to read the word.
Participants classified as having high reading ability read the word “dump”
faster in the experimental condition, indicating they had made the inference.
However, low-reading-ability participants did not. Thus, it would appear that
high-ability readers had made the elaborative inference that Carol was going
to dump the spaghetti on the customer’s head, whereas the low-ability readers
had not.
■ In understanding a sentence, listeners make bridging inferences
to connect it to prior sentences but only sometimes make elaborative
inferences that connect to possible future material.
Inference of Reference
An important aspect of making a bridging inference consists of recognizing
when an expression in the sentence refers to something that we should already
know. Various linguistic cues indicate that an expression is referring to some-
thing that we already know. One cue in English turns on the difference between
the definite article the and the indefinite article a. The tends to be used to
signal that the comprehender should know the reference of the noun phrase,
Anderson_8e_Ch13.indd 330 13/09/14 10:00 AM
u T I L I z AT I O n / 331
whereas a tends to be used to introduce a new object. Compare the difference
in meaning of the following sentences:
1. Last night I saw the moon.
2. Last night I saw a moon.
Sentence 1 indicates a rather uneventful fact—seeing the same old moon as
always—but sentence 2 carries the clear implication of having seen a new
moon. There is considerable evidence that language comprehenders are quite
sensitive to the meaning communicated by this small difference in the sen-
tences. In one experiment, Haviland and Clark (1974) compared participants’
comprehension time for two-sentence pairs such as
3. Ed was given an alligator for his birthday. The alligator was his favorite
present.
4. Ed wanted an alligator for his birthday. The alligator was his favorite present.
Both pairs have the same second sentence. Pair 3 introduces in its first sen-
tence a specific antecedent for the alligator. On the other hand, although
alligator is mentioned in the first sentence of pair 4, a specific alligator is
not introduced. Thus, there is no antecedent in the first sentence of pair 4
for the alligator. The definite article the in the second sentence of both pairs
supposes a specific antecedent. Therefore, we would expect that participants
would have difficulty with the second sentence in pair 4 but not in pair 3. In
the Haviland and Clark experiment, participants saw pairs of such sentences
one at a time. After they comprehended each sentence, they pressed a button.
The time was measured from the presentation of the second sentence until
participants pressed a button indicating that they understood that sentence.
Participants took an average of 1,031 ms to comprehend the second sentence
in pairs, such as pair 3, in which an antecedent was given, but they took an
average of 1,168 ms to comprehend the second sentence in pairs, such as
pair 4, in which there was no antecedent for the definite noun phrase. Thus,
comprehension took more than a tenth of a second longer when there was no
antecedent.
The results of an experiment done by Loftus and Zanni (1975) showed that
choice of articles could affect listeners’ beliefs. These experimenters showed
participants a film of an automobile accident and asked them a series of ques-
tions. Some participants were asked,
5. Did you see a broken headlight?
Other participants were asked,
6. Did you see the broken headlight?
In fact, there was no broken headlight in the film, but question 6 uses a definite
article, which supposes the existence of a broken headlight. Participants were
more likely to answer “Yes” when asked the question in form 6. As Loftus and
Zanni noted, this finding has important implications for the interrogation of
eyewitnesses.
■ Comprehenders take the definite article “the” to imply the existence
of a reference for the noun.
Pronominal Reference
Another aspect of processing reference concerns the interpretation of
pronouns. When one hears a pronoun such as she, deciding who is being
referenced is critical. A number of people may have already been mentioned,
Anderson_8e_Ch13.indd 331 13/09/14 10:00 AM
332 / Chapter 13 L A n G u A G e C O M P R e H e n S I O n
and all are candidates for the reference of the pronoun. As Just and
Carpenter (1987) noted, there are a number of bases for resolving the reference
of pronouns:
1. One of the most straightforward is to use number or gender cues. Consider
● Melvin, Susan, and their children left when (he, she, they) became sleepy.
Each possible pronoun has a different referent.
2. A syntactic cue to pronominal reference is that pronouns tend to refer to
objects in the same grammatical role (e.g., subject versus object). Consider
● Floyd punched Bert and then he kicked him.
Most people would agree that the subject he refers to Floyd and the object him
refers to Bert.
3. There is also a strong recency effect such that the most recent candidate
referent is preferred. Consider
● Dorothea ate the pie; Ethel ate cake; later she had coffee.
Most people would agree that she probably refers to Ethel.
4. Finally, people can use their knowledge of the world to determine
reference. Compare
● Tom shouted at Bill because he spilled the coffee.
● Tom shouted at Bill because he had a headache.
Most people would agree that he in the first sentence refers to Bill because you
tend to scold people who make mistakes, whereas he in the second sentence
refers to Tom because people tend to be cranky when they have headaches.
In keeping with the immediacy-of-interpretation principle articulated
earlier, people try to determine who a pronoun refers to immediately upon
encountering it. For instance, in studies of eye fixations (P. A. Carpenter &
Just, 1977; Ehrlich & Rayner, 1983; Just & Carpenter, 1987), researchers found
that people fixate on a pronoun longer when it is harder to determine its
reference. Ehrlich and Rayner (1983) also found that participants’ resolution of
the reference tends to spill over into the next fixation, suggesting they are still
processing the pronoun while reading the next word.
Corbett and Chang (1983) found evidence that participants consider
multiple candidates for a referent. They had participants read sentences such as
● Scott stole the basketball from Warren and he sank a jump shot.
After reading the sentence, participants saw a probe word and had to decide
whether the word appeared in the sentence. Corbett and Chang found that time
to recognize either Scott or Warren decreased after reading such a sentence.
They also asked participants to read the following control sentence, which did
not require the referent of a pronoun to be determined:
● Scott stole the basketball from Warren and Scott sank a jump shot.
In this case, only recognition of Scott was facilitated. Warren was facilitated
only in the first sentence because, in that sentence, participants had to consider
it a possible referent of he before settling on Scott as the referent.
The results of both the Corbett and Chang study and the Ehrlich and
Rayner study indicate that resolution of pronoun reference lasts beyond the
reading of the pronoun itself. This finding indicates that processing is not
always as immediate as the immediacy-of-interpretation principle might seem
to imply. The processing of pronominal reference spills over into later fixations
(Ehrlich & Rayner, 1983), and there is still priming for the unselected reference
at the end of the sentence (Corbett & Chang, 1983).
Anderson_8e_Ch13.indd 332 13/09/14 10:00 AM
u T I L I z AT I O n / 333
■ Comprehenders consider multiple possible candidates for the
referent of a pronoun and use syntactic and semantic cues to select a
referent.
Negatives
Negative sentences appear to suppose a positive sentence and then ask us to in-
fer what must be true if the positive sentence is false. For instance, the sentence
John is not a crook supposes that it is reasonable to assume John is a crook but
asserts that this assumption is false. As another example, imagine the following
four replies from a normally healthy friend to the question How are you feeling?
1. I am well.
2. I am sick.
3. I am not well.
4. I am not sick.
Replies 1 through 3 would not be regarded as unusual linguistically, but reply 4
does seem peculiar. By using the negative, reply 4 is supposing that thinking
of our friend as sick is reasonable. Why would we think our friend is sick,
and what is our friend really telling us by saying it is not so? In contrast, the
negative in reply 3 is easy to understand, because supposing that the friend is
normally well is reasonable and our friend is telling us that this is not so.
Clark and Chase (Chase & Clark, 1972; H. H. Clark, 1974; H. H. Clark &
Chase, 1972) conducted a series of experiments on the verification of negatives
(see also P. A. Carpenter & Just, 1975; Trabasso, Rollins, & Shaughnessy, 1971).
In a typical experiment, they presented participants with a card like that shown
in Figure 13.9 and asked them to verify one of four sentences about this card:
1. The star is above the plus (true affirmative).
2. The plus is above the star (false affirmative).
3. The plus is not above the star (true negative).
4. The star is not above the plus (false negative).
The terms true and false refer to whether the sentence is true of the picture;
the terms affirmative and negative refer to whether the sentence structure has
a negative element. Sentences 1 and 2 are simple assertions, but sentences 3
and 4 contain a supposition plus a negation of the supposition. Sentence 3 sup-
poses that the plus is above the star and asserts that this supposition is false;
sentence 4 supposes that the star is above the plus and asserts that this sup-
position is false. Clark and Chase assumed that participants would check the
supposition first and then process the negation. In sentence 3, the supposition
does not match the picture, but in sentence 4, the supposition does match the
picture. Assuming that mismatches would take longer to process, Clark and
Chase predicted that participants would take longer to respond to sentence 3,
a true negative, than to sentence 4, a false negative. In contrast, participants
should take longer to process sentence 2, the false affirmative, than sentence 1,
the true affirmative, because sentence 2 does not match the picture. In fact, the
difference between sentences 2 and 1 should be identical with the difference be-
tween sentences 3 and 4, because both differences correspond to the extra time
due to a mismatch between the sentence and the picture.
Clark and Chase developed a simple and elegant mathematical model for
such data. They assumed that processing sentences 3 and 4 took N time units
longer than did processing sentences 1 and 2 because of the more complex
supposition-plus-negation structure of sentences 3 and 4. They also assumed that
processing sentence 2 took M time units longer than did processing sentence 1
FIGURE 13.9 A card like the one
presented to participants in Clark
and Chase’s sentence-verification
experiments. Participants were to
say whether simple affirmative
and negative sentences correctly
described these patterns.
Anderson_8e_Ch13.indd 333 13/09/14 10:00 AM
334 / Chapter 13 L A n G u A G e C O M P R e H e n S I O n
because of the mismatch between picture and assertion. Similarly, they assumed
that processing sentence 3 took M time units longer than did processing
sentence 4 because of the mismatch between picture and supposition. Finally,
they assumed that processing a true affirmative such as sentence 1 took T time
units. The time T refers to the time used in processes exclusive of negation or
the picture mismatch. Let us consider the total time that participants should
spend processing a sentence such as sentence 3: This sentence has a complex
supposition-plus-negation structure, which costs N time units, and a supposi-
tion mismatch, which costs M time units. Therefore, total processing time should
be T 1 M 1 N. Table 13.1 shows both the observed data and the reaction time
predictions that can be derived for the Clark and Chase experiment. The best
predicting values for T, M, and N for this experiment can be estimated from the
data as T 5 1,469 ms, M 5 246 ms, and N 5 320 ms. As you can confirm, the
predictions match the observed time remarkably well. In particular, the differ-
ence between true negatives and false negatives is close to the difference between
false affirmatives and true affirmatives. This finding supports the hypothesis that
participants do extract the suppositions of negative sentences and match them to
the picture.
■ Comprehenders process a negative by first processing its embedded
supposition and then the negation.
◆ Text Processing
So far, we have focused on the comprehension of single sentences in isolation.
However, sentences are more frequently processed in larger contexts—for exam-
ple, in the reading of a novel or a textbook. Kintsch (1998, 2013) has argued that
a text is represented at multiple levels. For instance, consider the following pair of
sentences taken from an experimental story entitled “Nick Goes to the Movies.”
● Nick decided to go to the movies. He looked at a newspaper to see what
was playing.
Kintsch argues that this material is represented at three levels:
1. There is the surface level of representation of the exact sentences. This can
be tested by comparing people’s ability to remember the exact sentences ver-
sus paraphrases like “Nick studied the newspaper to see what was playing.”
2. There is also a propositional level (see Chapter 5), and this can be tested by
seeing whether people remember that Nick read the newspaper at all.
3. There is a situation model that consists of the major points of the story.
Thus, we can see whether people remember that “Nick wanted to see a
film”—something not said in the story but strongly implied.
In one study, Kintsch, Welsch, Schmalhofer, and Zimny (1990) looked at
participants’ ability to remember these different sorts of information over
periods of time ranging up to 4 days. The results are shown in Figure 13.10.
TABLE 13.1 Observed and Predicted Reaction Times in experiment Verification
Condition Observed Time Equation Predicted Time
True affirmative 1,463 ms T 1,469 ms
False affirmative 1,722 ms T 1 M 1,715 ms
True negative 2,028 ms T 1 M 1 N 2,035 ms
False negative 1,796 ms T 1 N 1,789 ms
Anderson_8e_Ch13.indd 334 13/09/14 10:00 AM
S I T u AT I O n M O D e L S / 335
As we saw in Chapter 5, surface information is
forgotten quite rapidly, whereas propositional in-
formation is better retained. However, the most
striking retention function involves situation in-
formation. After 4 days, participants have forgotten
half the propositions but still remember perfectly
what the story was about. This fits with many peo-
ple’s experience in reading novels or seeing mov-
ies. They will quickly forget many of the details but
will still remember months later what the novel or
movie was about.
■ When people follow a story, they
construct a high-level situation model of
the story that is more durable than the
memory for the surface sentences or the
propositions that made up the story.
◆ Situation Models
As noted above, a situation model is a representation of the overall structure
of a narrative that we are reading. According to Zwaan and Radvansky (1998),
situation models are organized according to five dimensions: space, time,
causation, protagonists, and goals. Below are examples of how ease of compre-
hension of sentences varies with their position on these dimensions:
1. Space: As comprehenders process a story, they keep track of where the
actors and objects are, behaving as if they are actually in the situation looking at
the various objects. Rinck and Bower (1995) studied the time participants took
to read sentences in a narrative such as
He thought that the shelves in the washroom looked an awful mess.
They looked at the time to understand this sentence depending on whether
the washroom was the room they were currently reading about, a room the
protagonist had just walked through, the room the protagonist had just come
from, or some other room in the building that was even further away from
where the protagonist currently was. Figure 13.11 shows how the time to
comprehend the sentence increased with the number of rooms between the
protagonist and the objects (in this case the shelves).
2. Time. Comprehenders also need to keep track of
when events take place relative to each other. In one
study, Zwaan (1996) had people process a sentence that
began in one of these ways:
A. A moment later, the fireman…
B. A day later, the fireman…
C. A month later, the fireman…
The time to process the sentence increased with the
time shift.
3. Causation. Comprehenders also need to keep
track of the goals of the causal relationships among
�0.2
0.0
0.2
0.4
0.6
0.8
1.0
1.2
0
Delay
Tr
ac
e
str
en
gt
h
40 min 2 days 4 days
Situation
Proposition
Surface
FIGURE 13.10 Memory for
a story as a function of time:
strengths of the traces for the sur-
face form of sentences, the prop-
ositions that make up the story,
and the high-level situation repre-
sentation. (Reprinted from Kintsch,
W., Welsch, D. M., Schmalhofer,
F., & Zimny, S. (1990). Sentence
memory: A theoretical analysis.
Journal of Memory and Language,
29, 133–159. Copyright © 1990
with permission of Elsevier.)
Goal Path Source Other
120
130
140
150
160
170
Re
ad
in
g
tim
e
pe
r s
yll
ab
le
(m
s)
Target room type
FIGURE 13.11 Mean reading
time per syllable as a function of
whether the room is where the
protagonist has arrived, on the pro-
tagonist’s most recent path, where
the protagonist came from, or
some other room. (Reprinted from
Rinck, M., & Bower, G. H. (1995).
Anaphora resolution and the focus
of attention in situation models.
Journal of Memory and Language,
34(1), 110–131. Copyright © 1995
with permission of Elsevier.)
Anderson_8e_Ch13.indd 335 13/09/14 10:00 AM
336 / Chapter 13 L A n G u A G e C O M P R e H e n S I O n
various events. In one study, Keenan, Baillet, and Brown (1984) studied the
effect of the probability of the causal relation connecting two sentences on the
processing of the second sentence. They asked participants to read pairs of
sentences, of which the first might be one of the following sentences:
A. Joey’s big brother punched him again and again.
B. Racing down the hill, Joey fell off his bike.
C. Joey’s crazy mother became furiously angry with him.
D. Joey went to a neighbor’s house to play.
Keenan et al. were interested in the effect of the first sentence on the time
to read a second sentence such as
E. The next day, his body was covered with bruises.
Sentences A through D are ordered in decreasing probability of a causal con-
nection to the second sentence. Correspondingly, Keenan et al. found that par-
ticipants’ reading times for sentence E increased from 2.6 s when preceded by
high probable causes such as that given in sentence A to 3.3 s when preceded
by low probable causes such as that given in sentence D. Thus, it takes longer to
understand a more distant causal relation.
4. Protagonists. Protagonists are the most important elements of a situa-
tion model, and people keep track of what is happening to them. For instance,
O’Brien, Albrecht, Hakala, and Rizzella (1995) had participants read stories
about a protagonist with a certain trait such as being a vegetarian. They took
longer to read a sentence about the protagonist that was inconsistent (for
instance, about ordering a hamburger).
5. Goals. The goals of the protagonists are a critical aspect of a narrative, and
comprehenders track what these goals are. A sentence like “Betty wanted to give
her mother a present” introduces a goal into a story. Trabasso and Suh (1993)
had participants read a story in which the protagonists either achieved their
goal or not. They found that participants could more quickly answer a question
such as “Did Betty want to get her mother a birthday present?” if the protagonist
achieved the goal than if the protagonist had not. In another study, Lutz and
Radvansky (1997) asked participants to read the story at various points and then
asked them to summarize it. The participants were more likely to mention a goal
that had not been achieved in their summary than a goal that had been achieved.
This sort of evidence is interpreted as indicating that comprehenders keep such
goals highly available as long as the goals are relevant for the protagonist.
For each of the dimensions above, the time to process a sentence is re-
lated to how close it is to the representation of the situation that the reader is
carrying forward. It is as if the reader is keeping a spotlight focused on a point
in the 5-dimensional space outlined above. Information is easy to process as a
function of how close it is to that spotlight.
■ A situation model keeps track of critical features of the story and
makes this information highly available to facilitate comprehension.
◆ Conclusions
The number and diversity of topics covered in this chapter testify to the
impressive cumulative progress in understanding language comprehension.
It is fair to say that we knew almost nothing about language processing when
Anderson_8e_Ch13.indd 336 13/09/14 10:00 AM
C O n C L u S I O n S / 337
cognitive psychology emerged from the collapse of behaviorism 50 years ago.
Now, we have a rather articulate picture of what is happening in scales that
range from 100 ms after a word is heard to minutes later when large stretches
of complex text must be integrated. Research on language processing turns
out to harbor a number of theoretical controversies, some of which have been
discussed in this review of the field (e.g., whether early syntactic processing is
separate from the rest of cognition). However, such controversies should not
blind us to the impressive progress that has been made. The heat in the field has
also generated much light.
Questions for Thought
1. There are a number of websites available that
provide phrase structure parses of sentences (just
search for “parser demos”—perhaps try the Enju
demo at http://www.nactem.ac.uk/enju/demo
.html). See how well they do in processing the
example sentences we used in discussing phrase
structure in this and the previous chapter—for
instance, the two sentences from Caplan (“oil
prints”). What characterizes the cases where these
parsers fail?
2. Answer the following question: “How many ani-
mals of each kind did Moses take on the ark?” If
you are like most people, you answered “two” and
did not even notice that it was Noah and not
Moses who took the animals on the ark (Erickson
& Matteson, 1981). People do this even when they
are warned to look out for such sentences and
not answer them (Reder & Kusbit, 1991). This
phenomenon has been called the Moses illusion
even though it has been demonstrated with a wide
range of words besides Moses. What does the
Moses illusion say about how people incorporate
the meaning of individual words into sentences?
3. Christianson, Hollingworth, Halliwell, and
Ferreira (2001) found that when people read the
sentence “While Mary bathed the baby played
in the crib” most people actually interpret the
sentence as implying that Mary bathed the baby.
Ferreira and Patson (2007) argue that this implies
that people do not carefully parse sentences but
settle on “good enough” interpretations. If people
don’t carefully process sentences, what does that
imply about the debate between proponents of
interactive processing and of the modularity posi-
tion about how people understand sentences like
“The woman painted by the artist was very attrac-
tive to look at”?
4. Bielock, Lyons, Mattarella-Micke, Nusbaum, and
Small (2008) looked at brain activation while par-
ticipants listened to sentences about hockey versus
other action sentences. They found greater activa-
tion in the premotor cortex for hockey sentences
only for those participants who were hockey fans.
What does this say about the role of expertise in
making elaborative inferences and developing
situation models?
Key Terms
bridging (or backward)
inferences
center-embedded
sentences
constituent
elaborative (or forward)
inferences
garden-path sentence
immediacy of
interpretation
interactive processing
N400
P600
parsing
principle of minimal
attachment
situation model
transient ambiguity
utilization
Anderson_8e_Ch13.indd 337 13/09/14 10:00 AM
http://www.nactem.ac.uk/enju/demo
338
Clearly, all people do not think alike. There are many aspects of cognition, but
humans, naturally being an evaluative species, tend to focus on ways in which
some people perform “better” than other people. This performance is often identi-
fied with the word intelligence—some people are perceived to be more intelligent
than others. Chapter 1 identified intelligence as the defining feature of the human
species. So, to call some members of our species more intelligent than others can
be a potent claim. As we will see, the complexity of human cognition makes it im-
possible to place people on a one-dimensional evaluative scale of intelligence.
This chapter will explore individual differences in cognition, both because of
the inherent interest of this topic and because individual differences shed some
light on the general nature of human cognition. The big debate that will be with us
throughout this chapter is the nature-versus-nurture debate. Are some people better
at some cognitive tasks because they are innately endowed with more capacity for
those kinds of tasks or because they have acquired more knowledge relevant to
those tasks? The answer, not surprisingly, is that both factors are involved, and we
will consider and examine some of the ways in which both basic capacities and
experiences contribute to human intelligence.
More specifically, this chapter will answer the following questions:
● How does the thinking of children develop as they mature?
● What are the relative contributions of neural growth versus experience to
children’s intellectual development?
● What happens to our intellectual capacity through the adult years?
● What do intelligence tests measure?
● What are the different subcomponents of intelligence?
◆ Cognitive Development
Part of the uniqueness of the human species concerns the way in which chil-
dren are brought into the world and develop to become adults. Humans have
very large brains in relation to their body size, which created a major evolu-
tionary problem: How would the birth of such large-brained babies be physi-
cally possible? One way was through progressive enlargement of the birth
canal, which is now as large as is considered possible given the constraints of
mammalian skeletons (Geschwind, 1980). In addition, a child is born with a
skull that is sufficiently pliable for it to be compressed into a cone shape to fit
through the birth canal. Still, the human birth process is particularly difficult
compared with that of most other mammals.
14
Individual Differences
in Cognition
Anderson_8e_Ch14.indd 338 13/09/14 9:59 AM
C o g n i T i v e D e v e l o p M e n T / 339
Figure 14.1 illustrates the growth of the human brain during gestation. At
birth, a child’s brain has more neurons than an adult brain has, but the state of
development of these neurons is particularly immature. However, these neu-
rons still need to grow, develop synapses, and develop supporting structures
like glial cells. Compared with those of many other species, the brains of human
infants will develop much more after birth. At birth, a human brain occupies a
volume of about 350 cubic centimeters (cm3). In the first year of life, it doubles
to 700 cm3, and before a human being reaches puberty, the size of its brain dou-
bles again. Most other mammals do not have as much growth in brain size after
birth (S. J. Gould, 1977). Because the human birth canal has been expanded to
its limits, much of our neural development has been postponed until after birth.
Even though they spent 9 months developing in the womb, human infants
are quite helpless at birth and spend an extraordinarily long time growing to
adult stature—about 15 years, which is about a fifth of the human life span. In
contrast, a puppy, after a gestation period of just 9 weeks, is more capable at
birth than a human newborn. In less than a year, less than a tenth of its life
span, a dog has reached full size and reproductive capability.
Childhood is prolonged more than would be needed to develop large
brains (Bjorklund & Bering, 2003). Indeed, the majority of neural development
is complete by age 5. Humans are kept children by the slowness of their physi-
cal development. It has been speculated that the function of this slow physical
development is to keep children in a dependency relation to adults (de Beer,
1959). A child has much to learn in order to become a competent adult, and
staying a child for so long gives the human enough time to acquire that knowl-
edge. Childhood is an apprenticeship for adulthood.
A century ago most people began work in their early teens, and they still
do in some parts of the world. However, modern society is so complex that
we cannot learn all that is needed by simply associating with our parents for
15 years. To provide the needed training, society has created social institu-
tions such as high schools, colleges, and post-college professional schools. It
is not unusual for people to spend more than 25 years, almost as long as their
professional lives, preparing for their roles in society.
Brain
stem
Forebrain
Hindbrain
Midbrain
(a) 25 days (b) 50 days (c) 100 days
(d) 20 weeks (e) 28 weeks (f ) 36 weeks (full term)
Neural tube
(forms spinal cord)
Brain Structures FIGURE 14.1 Changes in struc-
ture in the developing brain.
(Adapted from Bownds, 1999.)
Anderson_8e_Ch14.indd 339 13/09/14 9:59 AM
340 / Chapter 14 i n D i v i D u A l D i f f e r e n C e S i n C o g n i T i o n
■ Human development to adulthood is longer than that of other
mammals to allow time for growth of a large brain and acquisition of
a large amount of knowledge.
Piaget’s Stages of Development
Developmental psychologists have tried to understand the intellectual
changes that take place as we grow from infancy through adulthood. Many
have been particularly influenced by the Swiss psychologist Jean Piaget, who
studied and theorized about child development for more than half a century.
Much of the recent information-processing work in cognitive development
has been concerned with correcting and restructuring Piaget’s theory of cog-
nitive development. Despite these revisions, his research has organized a large
set of qualitative observations about cognitive development spanning the
period from birth to adulthood. Therefore, it is worthwhile to review these
observations to get a picture of the general nature of cognitive development
during childhood.
According to Piaget, a child enters the world lacking virtually all the basic
cognitive competencies of an adult but gradually develops these competencies
by passing through a series of stages of development. Piaget distinguishes four
major stages. The sensory-motor stage is in the first 2 years of life. In this stage,
children develop schemes for thinking about the physical world—for instance,
they develop the notion of an object as a permanent thing in the world. The
second stage is the preoperational stage, which is characterized as spanning
the period from 2 to 7 years of age. Unlike the younger child, a child in this pe-
riod can engage in internal thought about the world, but these mental processes
are intuitive and lack systematicity. For instance, a 4-year-old who was asked
to describe his painting of a farm and some animals said, “First, over here is a
house where the animals live. I live in a house. So do my mommy and daddy.
This is a horse. I saw horses on TV. Do you have a TV?”
The third stage is the concrete-operational stage, which spans the period
from age 7 to age 11. In this period, children develop a set of mental opera-
tions that allow them to treat the physical world in a systematic way. However,
children still have major limitations on their capacity to reason formally about
the world. The capacity for formal reasoning emerges in Piaget’s fourth period,
the formal-operational stage, spanning the years from 11 to adulthood. Upon
entering this period, although there is still much to learn, a child has become an
adult cognitively and is capable of scientific reasoning—which Piaget took as
the paradigm case of mature intellectual functioning.
Piaget’s concept of a stage has always been a sore point in developmental
psychology. Obviously, a child does not suddenly change on an 11th birthday
from the stage of concrete operations to the stage of formal operations. There
are large differences among children and cultures, and the ages given are just
approximations. However, careful analysis of the development within a single
child also fails to find abrupt changes at any age. One response to this gradu-
alness has been to break down the stages into smaller substages. Another re-
sponse has been to interpret stages as simply ways of characterizing what is
inherently a gradual and continuous process. Siegler (1996) argued that, on
careful analysis, all cognitive development is continuous and gradual. He char-
acterized the belief that children progress through discrete stages as “the myth
of the immaculate transition.”
Just as important as Piaget’s stage analysis is his analysis of children’s
performance on specific tasks within these stages. These task analyses provide
the empirical substance to back up his broad and abstract characterization
Anderson_8e_Ch14.indd 340 13/09/14 9:59 AM
C o g n i T i v e D e v e l o p M e n T / 341
of the stages. Probably his most well-known task analysis is his research on
conservation, considered next.
■ Piaget proposed that children progress through four stages of in-
creasing intellectual sophistication: sensory-motor, preoperational,
concrete-operational, and formal-operational.
Conservation
The term conservation most generally refers to knowledge of the properties of the
world that are preserved under various transformations. A child’s understanding
of conservation develops as the child progresses through the Piagetian stages.
Conservation in the sensory-motor stage. A child must come to under-
stand that objects continue to exist over transformations in time and space. If
a cloth is placed over a toy that a 6-month-old is reaching for, the infant stops
reaching and appears to lose interest in the toy (Figure 14.2). It is as if the object
ceases to exist for the child when it is no longer in view. Piaget concluded from
his experiments that children do not come into the world with knowledge of ob-
ject permanence but rather develop a concept of it during the first year.
According to Piaget, the concept of object permanence develops slowly
and is one of the major intellectual developments in the sensory-motor stage.
An older infant will search for an object that has been hidden, but more
demanding tests reveal failings in the older infant’s understanding of a perma-
nent object. In one experiment, an object is put under cover A, and then, in
front of the child, it is removed and put under cover B. The child will often look
for the object under cover A. Piaget argues that the child does not understand
that the object will still be in location B. Only after the age of 12 months can the
child succeed consistently at this task.
However, research has shown that the problem is really one of working
memory (Morasch, Raj, & Bell, 2013). In the classic A-not-B experiment as
Piaget pioneered it, the child first sees the toy put under A a number of times
before seeing it put under B. Thus, they face a competition between their mem-
ories in the past of the toy under A and their working memory of the most re-
cent location of the toy under B. Diamond (1990) shows that this is very much
like the delayed match-to-sample task used to study working memory in other
species (see Chapter 6, Figure 6.8). Infants improve at the same rate on the de-
layed match-to-sample task as they do on the A-not-B task.
FIGURE 14.2 An illustration of a child’s apparent inability to understand the permanence
of an object. (Doug Goodman/Science Source.)
Anderson_8e_Ch14.indd 341 13/09/14 9:59 AM
342 / Chapter 14 i n D i v i D u A l D i f f e r e n C e S i n C o g n i T i o n
Conservation in the preoperational and concrete-
operational stages. A number of important advances in conser-
vation occur at about 6 years of age, which, according to Piaget, is the
transition between the preoperational and the concrete-operational
stages. Before this age, children can be shown to have some glaring
errors in their reasoning. These errors start to correct themselves at
this point. The cause of this change has been controversial, with dif-
ferent theorists pointing to language (Bruner, 1964) and the advent
of schooling (Cole & D’Andrade, 1982), among other possible causes.
Here, we will content ourselves with a description of the changes
leading to a child’s understanding of conservation of quantity.
As adults, we can almost instantaneously recognize that
there are four apples in a bowl and can confidently know that
these apples will remain four when dumped into a bag. Piaget
was interested in how a child develops the concept of quan-
tity and learns that quantity is something that is preserved un-
der various transformations, such as moving the objects from
a bowl to a bag. Figure 14.3 illustrates a typical conservation
problem that has been posed by psychologists in many varia-
tions to preschool children in countless experiments. A child is
presented with two rows of objects, such as checkers. The two
rows contain the same number of objects and have been lined
up so as to correspond. The child is asked whether the two rows
have the same amount and responds that they do. The child can
be asked to count the objects in the two rows to confirm that conclusion. Now,
before the child’s eyes, one row is compressed, but no checkers are added or re-
moved. Again asked which has more objects, the pile or the undisturbed row,
the child now says that the row has more. The child appears not to know that
quantity is something that is preserved under transformations such as the com-
pression of space. If asked to count the two groups of checkers, the child ex-
presses great surprise that they have the same number.
A general feature in demonstrations of lack of conservation is that the ir-
relevant physical features of a display distract children. Another example is
the liquid-conservation task, which is illustrated in Figure 14.4. The child
is shown two identical beakers containing identical amounts of milk and an
empty beaker taller and thinner than the other two. When asked whether the
two identical beakers hold the same amount of milk, the child answers “Yes.”
The milk from one beaker is then poured into the tall, thin beaker. When asked
whether the amount of milk in the two containers is the same, the child now
says that the tall beaker holds more. Young children are distracted by physi-
cal appearance and do not relate their having seen the milk poured from one
beaker into the other to the unchanging quantity of liquid. Bruner (1964) dem-
onstrated that a child is more likely to conserve if the tall beaker is hidden from
sight while it is being filled; then the child does not see the high column of
milk and so is not distracted by physical appearance. Thus, it is a case of being
overwhelmed by physical appearance. Diamond (2013) suggests that children
cannot inhibit the attending to the physical appearance much like they can-
not inhibit other responses (see discussion of similar failures under the section
“Prefrontal Sites of Executive Control” in Chapter 3).
Failure of conservation has also been shown with weight and volume of
solid objects (for a discussion of studies of conservation, see Brainerd, 1978;
Flavell, 1985; Ginsburg & Opper, 1980). It was once thought that the ability to
perform successfully on all these tasks depended on acquiring a single abstract
concept of conservation. Now, however, it is clear that successful conservation
appears earlier on some tasks than on others. For instance, conservation of
FIGURE 14.3 A typical experi-
mental situation to test for con-
servation of number. (Lewis J.
Merrim/Photo Researchers, Inc.)
Anderson_8e_Ch14.indd 342 13/09/14 9:59 AM
C o g n i T i v e D e v e l o p M e n T / 343
number usually appears before conservation of liquid. Additionally, children in
transition will show conservation of number in one experimental situation but
not in another.
Conservation in the formal-operational period. When children reach
the formal-operational period, their understanding of conservation reaches
new levels of abstraction. They are able to understand the idealized conserva-
tions that are part of modern science, including concepts such as the conser-
vation of energy and the conservation of motion. In a frictionless world, an
object once set in motion continues in motion, an abstraction that the child
never experiences. However, in the formal-operational period, the child comes
to understand this abstraction and the way in which it relates to experiences in
the real world.
■ As children develop, they gain increasingly sophisticated under-
standing about what properties of objects are conserved under which
transformations.
What Develops?
Clearly, as Piaget and others have documented, major intellectual changes
take place in childhood. However, there are serious questions concerning
what underlies these changes. There are two ways of explaining why children
perform better on various intellectual tasks as they get older: One is that
they “think better,” and the other is that they “know better.” The think-better
option holds that children’s basic cognitive processes become better. Perhaps
they can hold more information in working memory or process information
faster. The know-better option holds that children have learned more facts
and better methods as they get older. I refer to this as “know better,” not “know
(b)
(a)
FIGURE 14.4 A typical experimental situation to test for conservation of liquid. (Bianca
Moscatelli/Worth Publishers.)
Anderson_8e_Ch14.indd 343 13/09/14 9:59 AM
344 / Chapter 14 i n D i v i D u A l D i f f e r e n C e S i n C o g n i T i o n
more,” because it is not just a matter of adding knowledge but also a matter
of eliminating erroneous facts and inappropriate methods (such as relying on
appearance in the conservation tasks). Perhaps this superior knowledge enables
them to perform the tasks more efficiently. A computer metaphor is apt here:
A computer program can be made to perform better by running it on a faster
machine that has more memory or by running a better version of the program
on the same machine. Which is it in the case of child development—better
machine or better program?
Rather than the reason being one or the other, the child’s improvement
is due to both factors, but what are their relative contributions? Siegler (1998)
argued that many of the developmental changes that take place in the first
2 years are to be understood in relation to neural changes. Such changes in
the first 2 years are considerable. As we already noted, an infant is born with
more neurons than the child will have at a later age. Although the number of
neurons decreases, the number of synaptic connections increases tenfold in
the first 2 years, as illustrated in Figure 14.5. The number of synapses reaches
a peak at about age 2, after which it declines. The earlier pruning of neurons
and the later pruning of synaptic connections can be thought of as a process
by which the brain fine-tunes itself. The initial overproduction guarantees that
there will be enough neurons and synapses to process the required information.
When some neurons or synapses are not used, and so are proved unnecessary,
they wither away (Huttenlocher, 1994). After age 2, there is not much further
growth of neurons or their synaptic connections, but the brain continues to
grow because of the proliferation of other cells. In particular, the glial cells
increase, including those that provide the myelinated sheaths around the axons
of neurons. As discussed in Chapter 1, myelination enables the axon to conduct
brain signals rapidly. The process of myelination continues into the late teens
but at an increasingly gradual pace. The effects of this gradual myelination
(a) (b) (c)
FIGURE 14.5 postnatal development of human cerebral cortex around Broca’s area:
(a) newborn; (b) 3 months; (c) 24 months. (Adapted from Lenneberg, 1967.)
Anderson_8e_Ch14.indd 344 13/09/14 9:59 AM
C o g n i T i v e D e v e l o p M e n T / 345
can be considerable. For instance, the time for a nerve impulse to cross the
hemispheres in an adult is about 5 ms, which is four to five times as fast as in a
4-year-old (Salamy, 1978).
It is tempting to emphasize the improvement in processing capacity as the
basis for improvement after age 2. After all, consider the physical difference be-
tween a 2-year-old and an adult. When my son was 2 years old, he had difficulty
mastering the undoing of his pajama buttons. If his muscles and coordination
had so much maturing to do, why not his brain? This analogy, however, does
not hold: A 2-year-old has reached only 20% of his adult body weight, whereas
the brain has already reached 80% of its final size. Cognitive development after
age 2 may depend more on the knowledge that a person puts into his or her
brain rather than on any improvement in the physical capacities of the brain.
■ Neural development is a more important contributor to cognitive
development before the age of 2 than after.
The Empiricist-Nativist Debate
There is relatively little controversy either about the role that physical develop-
ment of the brain plays in the growth of human intellect or about the incredible
importance of knowledge to human intellectual processes. However, there is an
age-old nature-versus-nurture controversy that is related to, but different from,
the issue of physical growth versus knowledge accumulation. This debate is be-
tween the nativists and the empiricists (see Chapter 1) about the origins of that
knowledge. The nativists argue that the most important aspects of our knowl-
edge about the world appear as part of our genetically programmed develop-
ment, whereas the empiricists argue that virtually all knowledge comes from ex-
perience with the environment. One reason that this issue is emotionally charged
is that it would seem tied to conceptions about what makes humans special and
what their potential for change is. The nativist view is that we sell ourselves short
if we believe that our minds are just a simple reflection of our experiences, and
empiricists believe that we undersell the human potential if we think that we are
not capable of fundamental change and improvement. The issue is not this sim-
ple, but it nonetheless fuels great passion on both sides of the debate.
We have already visited this issue in the discussions of language acquisition
and of whether important aspects of human language are innately specified,
such as language universals. However, similar arguments have been made for
our knowledge of human faces or our knowledge of biological categories. A
particularly interesting case concerns our knowledge of number. Piaget used
experiments such as those on number conservation to argue that we do not have
an innate sense of number, but others have used experiments to argue otherwise.
For instance, in studies of infant attention, young children have been shown to
discriminate one object from two and two from three (Antell & Keating, 1983;
Starkey, Spelke, & Gelman, 1990; van Loosbroek & Smitsman, 1992). In these
studies, young children become bored looking at a certain number of objects
but show renewed interest when the number of objects changes. There is even
evidence for a rudimentary ability to add and subtract (T. J. Simon, Hespos, &
Rochat, 1995; Wynn, 1992). For instance, if a 5-month-old child sees one object
appear on stage and then disappear behind a screen, and then sees a second object
appear on stage and disappear behind the screen, the child is surprised if there
are not two objects when the screen is raised (Figure 14.6—note this contradicts
Piaget’s claims about failure of conservation in the sensory-motor stage). This
reaction is taken as evidence that the child calculates 1 1 1 5 2. Dehaene (2000)
argued that a special structure in the parietal cortex is responsible for representing
number and showed that it is especially active in certain numerical judgment tasks.
Anderson_8e_Ch14.indd 345 13/09/14 9:59 AM
346 / Chapter 14 i n D i v i D u A l D i f f e r e n C e S i n C o g n i T i o n
The basic ability to appreciate numerical quantity is not restricted to
humans (Nieder & Dehaene, 2009) but can be found in many species. For
instance, monkeys can be trained to judge whether the number of dots in two
displays are the same (see Chapter 3, Figure 3.27, for a similar task). Monkeys
can achieve high accuracy in identifying the exact number of dots for small
numbers of dots (range 1–4). The parietal and prefrontal cortices have neurons
that are tuned to respond to a specific number of dots. Figure 14.7 shows results
in the parietal region from a recent study by Nieder (2012). Different curves
represent the response of neurons tuned to different numbers of items. As can
be seen, different neurons respond maximally to different numbers of items.
Their response drops off as the difference increases between their preferred
number of items and the presented number of items. Interestingly these same
neurons also respond preferentially to number of tones presented—that is,
a “two” neuron will respond preferentially when the
monkey hears two tones. The existence of such number-
specific neurons can be taken to reflect part of the
innate knowledge of number that humans have as part
of their evolutionary heritage (Spelke, 2011).
While it seems clear that some nontrivial knowl-
edge, like small numbers, may be coded in our genes,
it is clear that all of it cannot. This became apparent
in 2001 when it was realized that a human has only
30,000 genes—only about one-third the number origi-
nally estimated. Moreover, more than 97% of these
genes are believed to be shared with chimpanzees. This
does not leave many genes for encoding the rich knowl-
edge that is uniquely human. Certainly, much of the
advanced mathematical capability of humans cannot be
1. Object placed in case
Sequence of events: 1+1 = 1 or 2
2. Screen comes up 3. Second object added 4. Hand leaves empty
5. Screen drops…
Then either: (a) Possible outcome or (b) Impossible outcome
6. revealing 2 objects 5. Screen drops… 6. revealing 1 object
FIGURE 14.6 in Karen Wynn’s experiment, she showed 5-month-old infants one or two
dolls on a stage. Then she hid the dolls behind a screen and visibly removed or added
one. When she lifted the screen out of the way, the infants would often stare longer when
shown a wrong number of dolls. (Wynn, K. (1992). Addition and subtraction by human
infants. nature, 358, 749–750. Copyright © 1992 Nature Publishing Group. Reprinted by
permission.)
4321
0
25
50
75
100
No
rm
ali
ze
d
re
sp
on
se
s (
%
)
Number of items
1
2
3
4
FIGURE 14.7 normalized average
tuning function for neurons tuned
to different numbers in parietal
cortex. (Nieder, A. (2012). Su-
pramodal numerosity selectivity of
neurons in primate prefrontal and
posterior parietal cortices. proceed-
ings of the national Academy of
Sciences, 109(29), 11860–11865.
Copyright © 2012 National Acad-
emy of Sciences, USA. Reprinted by
permission.)
Anderson_8e_Ch14.indd 346 13/09/14 9:59 AM
C o g n i T i v e D e v e l o p M e n T / 347
something that we developed through evolution. For instance, modern algebra,
which is mastered by schoolchildren around the world, only achieved its mod-
ern form about 500 years ago (Press, 2006). Even written number systems are
only a few thousand years old (Ifrah, 2000). Geary (2007) makes a distinction
between “primary” mathematics, which humans have always shown throughout
their history, and “secondary” mathematics, which requires special learning. He
argues that primary mathematics is basically in place by age 5 and that second-
ary mathematics depends on the schooling that begins at that age.
■ There is considerable debate in cognitive science about the degree
to which our basic knowledge is innate or acquired from experience.
Increased Mental Capacity
A number of developmental theories have proposed that there are basic cogni-
tive capacities that increase from birth through the teenage years (Case, 1985;
Fischer, 1980; Halford, 1982; Pascual-Leone, 1980). These theories are often
called neo-Piagetian theories of development. Consider Case’s memory-space
proposal, which is that a growing working-memory capacity is the key to the
developmental sequence. The basic idea is that more-advanced cognitive per-
formance requires that more information be held in working memory.
An example of this analysis is Case’s (1978) description of how children
solve Noelting’s (1975) juice problems. A child is given two empty pitchers, A
and B, and is told that several tumblers of orange juice and tumblers of water will
be poured into each pitcher. The child’s task is to predict which pitcher will taste
most strongly of orange juice. Figure 14.8 illustrates four stages of juice problems
that children can solve at various ages. At the youngest age, children can reliably
solve only problems where all orange juice goes into one pitcher and all water
into another. At ages 4 to 5, they can count the number of tumblers of orange
juice going into a pitcher and choose the pitcher that holds the larger number—
not considering the number of tumblers of water. At ages 7 to 8, they notice
whether there is more orange juice or more water going into a pitcher. If pitcher
A has more orange juice than water and pitcher B has more water than orange
juice, they will choose pitcher A even if the absolute number of glasses of orange
juice is fewer. Finally, at age 9 or 10, children compute the difference between the
amount of orange juice and the amount of water (still not a perfect solution).
Case argued that the working-memory requirements differ for the vari-
ous types of problems represented in Figure 14.8. For the simplest problems, a
child has to keep only one fact in memory—which set of tumblers has the or-
ange juice. Children at ages 3 to 4 can keep only one such fact in mind. If both
sets of tumblers have orange juice, the child cannot
solve the problem. For the second type of problem,
a child needs to keep two things in memory—the
number of orange juice tumblers in each array. In
the third type of problem, a child needs to keep
additional partial products in mind to determine
which side has more orange juice than water. To
solve the fourth type of problem, a child needs four
facts to make a judgment:
1. The absolute difference in tumblers going into
pitcher A
2. The sign of the difference for pitcher A (i.e.,
whether there is more water or more orange
juice going into pitcher)
Age
A B
3−4
4−5
7−8
9−0
FIGURE 14.8 The noelting juice
problem solved by children at
various ages. The problem is to
tell which pitcher will taste more
strongly of orange juice after par-
ticipants observe the tumblers of
water and tumblers of juice that
will be poured into each pitcher.
Anderson_8e_Ch14.indd 347 13/09/14 9:59 AM
348 / Chapter 14 i n D i v i D u A l D i f f e r e n C e S i n C o g n i T i o n
3. The absolute difference in tumblers going into pitcher B
4. The sign of the difference for pitcher B
Case argued that children’s developmental sequences are
controlled by their working-memory capacity for the prob-
lem. Only when they can keep four facts in memory will
they achieve the fourth stage in the developmental sequence.
Case’s theory has been criticized (e.g., Flavell, 1978) because
it is hard to decide how to count the working-memory
requirements.
Another question concerns what controls the growth
in working memory. Case argued that a major factor in the
increase of working memory is increased speed of neural
function. He cited the evidence that the degree of myelina-
tion increases with age, with spurts approximately at those points where he pos-
tulated major changes in working memory. On the other hand, he also argued
that practice plays a significant role as well: With practice, we learn to perform
our mental operations more efficiently, and so they do not require as much
working-memory capacity.
The research of Kail (1988) can be viewed as consistent with the proposal
that speed of mental operation is critical. This investigator looked at a number
of cognitive tasks, including the mental rotation task examined in Chapter 4
(see the discussion of Figures 4.4 and 4.5). He presented participants with pairs
of letters in different orientations and asked them to judge whether the letters
were the same or were mirror images of each other. As discussed in Chapter 4,
participants tend to mentally rotate an image of one object into congruence with
the other to make this judgment. Kail observed people, who ranged in age from
8 to 22, performing this task and found that they became systematically faster
with age. He was interested in rotation rate, which he measured as the num-
ber of milliseconds to rotate one degree of angle. Figure 14.9 shows these data,
which indicate that the time to rotate a de-
gree of angle decreases as a function of age.
In some of his writings, Kail argued that
this result is evidence of an increase in basic
mental speed as a function of age. However,
an alternative hypothesis is that it reflects
accumulating experience over the years at
mental rotation. Kail and Park (1990) put
this hypothesis to the test by giving 11-year-
old children and adults more than 3,000 tri-
als of practice at mental rotation. They found
that both groups sped up but that adults
started out faster. However, Kail and Park
showed that all their data could be fit by a
single power function that assumed that the
adults came into the experiment with what
amounted to an extra 1,800 trials of prac-
tice (Chapters 6 and 9 showed that learning
curves tended to be fit by power functions).
Figure 14.10 shows the resulting data, with
the children’s learning function superim-
posed on the adult’s learning function. The
practice curve for the children assumes that
they start with about 150 trials of prior prac-
tice, and the practice curve for the adults
8
3
4
5
12
Age (years)
Mental rotation
Ro
ta
tio
n
ra
te
(m
s/
de
gr
ee
)
16 20
1,000
1
0
2
3
4
5
2,000 3,000 4,000
Imputed trials of practice
Ro
ta
tio
n
ra
te
(m
s/
de
gr
ee
)
Children
Adults
5,000
FIGURE 14.9 rates of mental
rotation, estimated from the
slope of the function relating
response time to the orienta-
tion of the stimulus. (Kail, R.
(1988). Developmental functions
for speeds of cognitive processes.
Journal of experimental Child psy-
chology, 45, 339–364. Copyright ©
1988 with permission of Elsevier.)
FIGURE 14.10 Children and
adults are on the same learning
curve, but adults are advanced
1,800 trials. (Data from Kail, R., &
Park, Y. (1990). Impact of practice
on speed of mental rotation. Jour-
nal of experimental Child psychol-
ogy, 49, 227–244. Copyright ©
1990 with permission of Elsevier.)
Anderson_8e_Ch14.indd 348 13/09/14 9:59 AM
C o g n i T i v e D e v e l o p M e n T / 349
Children
Nu
m
be
r r
ec
all
ed
Digits
Chess
pieces5
6
7
8
9
10
Adults
assumes that they start with 1,950 trials of prior prac-
tice. However, after 3,000 trials of practice, children
are a good bit faster than beginning adults. Thus,
although the rate of information processing increases
with development, this increase may have a practice-
related rather than a biological explanation.
■ Qualitative and quantitative developmental
changes take place in cognitive development
because of increases both in working-memory
capacity and in rate of information processing.
Increased Knowledge
Chi (1978) demonstrated that developmental differ-
ences may be knowledge related. Her domain of demonstration was memory.
Not surprisingly, children do worse than adults on almost every memory task.
Do children perform worse because they know less about what they are being
asked to remember? To address this question, Chi compared the memory
performance of 10-year-olds with that of adults on two tasks—a standard
digit-span task (see the discussion in Chapter 6 around Figure 6.5) and a
chess memory task (see the discussion in Chapter 9 around Figure 9.14). The
10-year-olds were skilled chess players, whereas the adults were novices at
chess. The chess task was the one illustrated in Chapter 9, Figure 9.14—a
chessboard was presented for 10 s and then withdrawn, and participants were
then asked to reproduce the chess pattern.
Figure 14.11 illustrates the number of chess pieces recalled by children and
adults. It also contrasts these results with the number of digits recalled in the
digit-span task. As Chi predicted, the adults were better on the digit-span task,
but the children were better on the chess task. The children’s superior chess
performance was attributed to their greater knowledge of chess. The adults’
superior digit performance was due to their greater familiarity with digits—
the dramatic digit-span performance of participant SF (see the discussion in
Chapter 9 around Figure 9.17) shows just how much digit knowledge can lead
to improved memory performance.
The novice-expert contrasts in Chapter 9 are often used to explain devel-
opmental phenomena. We saw that a great deal of experience in a domain is
required if a person is to become an expert. Chi’s argument is that children, be-
cause of their lack of knowledge, are near universal novices, but they can be-
come more expert than adults through concentrated experience in one domain,
such as chess.
The Chi experiment contrasted child experts with adult novices. Schneider,
Körkel, and Weinert (1988) looked at the effect of expertise at various age levels.
They asked German schoolchildren at grade levels 3, 5, and 7 to recall a story
about soccer, and they categorized the children at each
grade level as either experts or novices with respect to
soccer. The results in Table 14.1 show that the effect
of expertise was much greater than that of grade level.
Moreover, on a recognition test, there was no effect of
grade level, only an effect of expertise. Schneider et al.
also classified each group of participants into high-
ability and low-ability participants on the basis of their
performance on intelligence tests. Although such tests
generally predict memory for stories, Schneider et al.
Grade Soccer Experts Soccer Novices
3 54 32
5 52 33
7 61 42
TABLE 14.1 Mean percentages of idea units recalled
as a function of grade and expertise
Data from Körkel (1987).
FIGURE 14.11 number of
chess pieces and number of
digits recalled by children versus
adults. (Chi, M. T. H. (1978).
Knowledge structures and memory
development. In R. S. Siegler (Ed.),
Children’s thinking: What develops?
(pp. 76–93). Copyright © 1978
Taylor & Francis. Reprinted by
permission.)
Anderson_8e_Ch14.indd 349 13/09/14 9:59 AM
350 / Chapter 14 i n D i v i D u A l D i f f e r e n C e S i n C o g n i T i o n
found no effect of general ability level, only of knowledge for soccer. They argue
that high-ability students are just those who know a lot about a lot of domains
and consequently generally do well on memory tests. However, when tested on
a story about a specific domain such as soccer, a high-ability student who knows
nothing about that domain will do worse than a low-ability student who knows
a lot about the domain.
In addition to lack of relevant knowledge, children have difficulty on mem-
ory tasks because they do not know the strategies that lead to improved memory.
The clearest case concerns rehearsal. If you were asked to dial a novel seven-digit
telephone number, I would hope that you would rehearse it until you were con-
fident that you had it memorized or until you had dialed the number. How-
ever, this strategy would not occur to young children. In one study comparing
5-year-olds with 10-year-olds, Keeney, Cannizzo, and Flavell (1967) found that
10-year-olds almost always verbally rehearsed a set of objects to be remembered,
whereas 5-year-olds seldom did. Young children’s performance often improves if
they are instructed to follow a verbal rehearsal strategy, although very young chil-
dren are simply unable to execute such a rehearsal strategy.
Chapter 6 emphasized the importance of elaborative strategies for good
memory performance. Particularly for long-term retention, elaboration appears
to be much more effective than rote rehearsal. There also appear to be sharp
developmental trends with respect to the use of elaborative encoding strategies.
For instance, Paris and Lindauer (1976) looked at the elaborations that chil-
dren use to relate two paired-associate nouns such as lady and broom. Older
children are more likely to generate interactive sentences such as The lady flew
on the broom than static sentences such as The lady had a broom. Such inter-
active sentences will lead to better memory performance. Young children are
also poorer at drawing the inferences that improve memory for a story (Stein &
Trabasso, 1981).
■ Younger children often do worse on tasks than do older children,
because they have less relevant knowledge and poorer strategies.
Cognition and Aging
Changes in cognition do not cease when we reach adulthood. As we get older,
we continue to learn more things, but human cognitive ability does not uni-
formly increase with added years, as we
might expect if intelligence were only a
matter of what one knows. Figure 14.12
shows data compiled by Salthouse (1992)
on two components of the Wechsler Adult
Intelligence Scale-Revised (WAIS-R). One
component deals with verbal intelligence,
which includes elements such as vocabu-
lary and language comprehension. As you
can see, this component maintains itself
quite constantly through the years. In con-
trast, the performance component, which
includes abilities such as reasoning and
problem solving, decreases dramatically.
The importance of these declines in
basic measures of cognitive ability can
be easily exaggerated. Such tests are typi-
cally given rapidly, and older adults do
better on slower tests. Additionally, such
Chronological age (years)
20 30 40 50 60 70 80
70
80
90
100
110
120
130
M
ea
n
IQ
Verbal
Performance
FIGURE 14.12 Mean verbal
and performance iQs from the
WAiS-r standardization sample
as a function of age. (Salthouse,
T. A. (1992). Mechanisms of age-
cognition relations in adulthood.
Copyright © 1992 Erlbaum. Re-
printed by permission..)
Anderson_8e_Ch14.indd 350 13/09/14 9:59 AM
C o g n i T i v e D e v e l o p M e n T / 351
tests tend to be like school tests, and young adults have had more recent ex-
perience with such tests. When it comes to relevant job-related behavior,
older adults often do better than younger adults (e.g., Perlmutter, Kaplan, &
Nyquist, 1990), owing both to their greater accumulation of knowledge and
to their more mature approach to job demands. There is also evidence that
previous generations did not do as well on tests even when they were young.
This is the so-called “Flynn effect”—IQ scores appear to have risen about
3 points per decade over the previous century (Flynn, 2007). The comparisons
in Figure 14.12 are not only of people of different ages but also of people who
grew up in different periods. Some of the apparent decline in the figure might
be due to differences among generations (education, nutrition, etc.) and not
age-related factors.
Although non–age-related factors may explain some of the decline
shown in Figure 14.12, there are substantial age-related declines in brain
function. Brain cells gradually die, and some areas are particularly suscepti-
ble to cell death. The hippocampus, which is particularly important to mem-
ory (see Chapter 7), loses about 5% of its cells every decade (Selkoe, 1992).
Other cells, though they might not die, have been observed to shrink and at-
rophy. On the other hand, there is some evidence for compensatory growth:
Cells remaining in the hippocampus will grow to compensate for the age-re-
lated deaths of their neighbors. There is also evidence for the birth of new
neurons, particularly in the region of the hippocampus (E. Gould & Gross,
2002). Moreover, the number of new neurons seems to be very much related
to the richness of a person’s experience. Although these new neurons are
few in number compared with the number lost, they may be very valuable
because new neurons are more plastic and may be critical to encoding new
experiences.
Although there are age-related neural losses, they may be relatively mi-
nor in most intellectually active adults. The real problem concerns the in-
tellectual deficits associated with various brain-related disorders. The most
common of these disorders is Alzheimer’s disease, which is associated with
substantial impairment of brain function, particularly in the temporal region
including the hippocampus. Many brain-related disorders progress slowly,
and some of the reason for age-related deficits in tests such as that illustrated
in Figure 14.12 may be that some of the older participants are in the early
stages of such diseases. However, even when health
factors are taken into account and when the perfor-
mance of the same participants is tracked in longi-
tudinal studies (so there is not a generational con-
found), there is evidence for age-related intellectual
decline, although it may not become significant until
after age 60 (Schaie, 1996).
As we get older, a race is going on between growth
in knowledge and loss of neural function. People in
many professions (artists, scientists, philosophers)
tend to produce their best work in their mid-thirties.
Figure 14.13 shows some interesting data from
Lehman (1953), who examined the works of 182
famous deceased philosophers who collectively wrote
some 1,785 books. Figure 14.13 plots the probability
that a book was considered that philosopher’s best
book as a function of the age at which it was written.
These philosophers remained prolific, publishing many
books in their seventies. However, as Figure 14.13
shows, a book written in this decade is unlikely to
8070
.15
.10
.05
20 30 40 50
Decade
Pr
ob
ab
ilit
y
of
b
es
t b
oo
k
60
.00
FIGURE 14.13 probability that
a particular book will become
a philosopher’s best as a func-
tion of the age at which the
philosopher wrote the book.
(Lehman, H. C. (1953). Age and
achievement. © 1953 Princeton
University Press, renewed in 1981
by Mrs. Harvey C. Lehman. Re-
printed by permission of Princeton
University Press.)
Anderson_8e_Ch14.indd 351 13/09/14 9:59 AM
352 / Chapter 14 i n D i v i D u A l D i f f e r e n C e S i n C o g n i T i o n
be considered a philosopher’s best.1 Lehman reviewed data from a number
of fields consistent with the hypothesis that the thirties tend to be the time of
peak intellectual performance. However, as Figure 14.13 shows, people often
maintain relatively high intellectual performance into their forties and fifties.
The evidence for an age-related correlation between brain function and
cognition makes it clear that there is a contribution of biology to intelligence
that knowledge cannot always overcome. Salthouse (1992) argued that, in in-
formation-processing terms, people lose their ability to hold information in
working memory with age. He contrasted participants of different ages on the
reasoning problems presented in Figure 14.14. These problems differ in the
number of premises that need to be combined to come to a particular solu-
tion. Figure 14.14 shows how people at various ages perform in these tasks. As
can be seen, people’s ability to solve these problems generally declines with the
number of premises that need to be combined. However, this drop-off is much
Twenties
Sixties
Forties
Number of premises
Pe
rc
en
ta
ge
co
rre
ct
1 2 3 4 5
5050
60
70
80
90
100
Q and R do the OPPOSITE
If Q INCREASES, what will happen to R?
D and E do the OPPOSITE
C and D do the SAME
If C INCREASES, what will happen to E?
R and S do the SAME
Q and R do the OPPOSITE
S and T do the OPPOSITE
If Q INCREASES, what will happen to T?
U and V do the OPPOSITE
W and X do the SAME
T and U do the SAME
V and W do the OPPOSITE
If T INCREASES, what will happen to X?
FIGURE 14.14 illustration of integrative reasoning trials hypothesized to vary in working-
memory demands (top), and mean performance of adults in their twenties, forties, and
sixties with each trial type (bottom).
1 It is important to note that this graph denotes the probability of a specific book written in a decade being
the best, and so the outcome is not an artifact of the number of books written during a decade (including
whether the philosopher was still alive in that decade to write books).
Anderson_8e_Ch14.indd 352 13/09/14 9:59 AM
p S y C H o M e T r i C S T u D i e S o f C o g n i T i o n / 353
steeper for older adults. Salthouse argued that older adults are slower than
younger adults in information processing, which inhibits their ability to main-
tain information in working memory. Even though these tests are not speeded,
the amount of information that can be maintained in working memory is con-
trolled by speed of processing (e.g., see Chapter 6, Figure 6.7).
■ Increased knowledge and maturity sometimes compensate for age-
related declines in rates of information processing.
Summary for Cognitive Development
With respect to the nature-versus-nurture issue, the developmental data paint a
mixed picture. A person’s brain is probably at its best physically in the mid twen-
ties, and intellectual capacity tends to follow brain function. The relation seems
particularly strong in the early years of childhood. However, we saw evidence
that practice could overcome age-related differences in speed (Figure 14.10),
and knowledge could be a more dominant factor than age (Figure 14.11 and
Table 14.1). Additionally, the point of peak intellectual output appears to take
place later than in a person’s twenties (Figure 14.13), indicating the need for
accumulated knowledge. As discussed in Chapter 9, truly exceptional perfor-
mance in a field tends to require at least 10 years of experience in that field.
◆ Psychometric Studies of Cognition
We now turn from considering how cognition varies as a function of age to
considering how cognition varies within a population of a fixed age. All this re-
search has basically the same character. It entails measuring the performances
of various people on a number of tasks and then looking at the way in which
these performance measures correlate across different tests. Such tests are re-
ferred to as psychometric tests. This research has established that there is not
a single dimension of “intelligence” on which people vary but rather that indi-
vidual differences in cognition are much more complex. We will first examine
research on intelligence tests.
Intelligence Tests
Research on intelligence testing has had a much longer sustained intellectual
history than cognitive psychology. In 1904, the minister of public instruction
in Paris named a commission charged with identifying children in need of re-
medial education. As a member of that commission, Alfred Binet set about
developing a test that would objectively identify students having intellectual
difficulty. In 1916, Lewis Terman adapted Binet’s test for use with American
students. His efforts led to the development of the Stanford-Binet, a major gen-
eral intelligence test in use in America today (Terman & Merrill, 1973). The
other major intelligence test used in America is the Wechsler, which has sepa-
rate scales for children and adults. These tests include measures of digit span,
vocabulary, analogical reasoning, spatial judgment, and arithmetic. A typical
question for adults on the Stanford-Binet is, “Which direction would you have
to face so your right hand would be to the north?” A great deal of effort goes
into selecting test items that will predict scholastic performance.
Both of these tests produce measures that are called intelligence
quotients (IQs). The original definition of IQ relates mental age to chrono-
logical age. The test establishes one’s mental age. If a child can solve problems
on the test that the average 8-year-old can solve, then the child has a mental
Anderson_8e_Ch14.indd 353 13/09/14 9:59 AM
354 / Chapter 14 i n D i v i D u A l D i f f e r e n C e S i n C o g n i T i o n
age of 8 independent of chronological age. IQ is defined as the ratio of mental
age to chronological age multiplied by 100 or
IQ 5 100 3 MA/CA
where MA is mental age and CA is chronological age. Thus, if a child’s mental
age were 6 and chronological age were 5, the IQ would be 100 3 6/5 5 120.
This definition of IQ proved unsuitable for a number of reasons. It cannot
extend to measurement of adult intelligence, because performance on intelli-
gence tests starts to level off in the late teens and declines in later years. To deal
with such difficulties, the common way of defining IQ now is in terms of devia-
tion scores. A person’s raw score is subtracted from the mean score for that per-
son’s age group, and then this difference is transformed into a measure that will
vary around 100, roughly as the earlier IQ scores would. The precise definition
is expressed as
(score 2 mean)
standard deviation
IQ 5 100 1 15 3
where standard deviation is a measure of the variability of the scores. IQs
so measured tend to be distributed according to a normal distribution.
Figure 14.15 shows such a normal distribution of intelligence scores and the
percentage of people who have scores in various ranges.
Whereas the Stanford-Binet and the Weschler are general intelligence tests,
many others were developed to test specialized abilities, such as spatial ability.
These tests partly owe their continued use in the United States to the fact that
they do predict performance in school with some accuracy, which was one of
Binet’s original goals. However, their use for this purpose is controversial. In
particular, because such tests can be used to determine who can have access to
what educational opportunities, there is a great deal of concern that they should
be constructed so as to prevent biases against certain cultural groups. Immi-
grants often do poorly on tests of intelligence because of cultural biases on the
tests. For instance, immigrant Italians of less than a century ago scored an aver-
age of 87 on IQ tests (Sarason & Doris, 1979), whereas today their descendants
have slightly above average IQs (Ceci, 1991).
The very concept of intelligence is culturally relative. What one culture val-
ues as intelligent another culture will not. For instance, the Kpelle, an African
culture, think that the way in which Westerners sort instances into categories
(for instance, sorting apples and oranges into the same category—a basis for
some items in intelligence tests) is foolish (Cole, Gay, Glick, & Sharp, 1971).
Robert Sternberg (personal communication, 1998) notes that some cultures
do not even have a word for intelligence. Sternberg (2006, 2007) has studied
70
2% 2%14% 14%
34% 34%
85 100 115 130
FIGURE 14.15 A normal distribu-
tion of iQ measures.
Anderson_8e_Ch14.indd 354 13/09/14 9:59 AM
p S y C H o M e T r i C S T u D i e S o f C o g n i T i o n / 355
something he calls practical intelligence, which is different from what is meas-
ured by IQ. He defines practical intelligence as the ability to solve concrete
problems in real life, and he has shown that using these measures can signifi-
cantly improve the predictive power of intelligence tests.
Related to the issue of the fairness of intelligence tests is the question of
whether they measure innate endowment or acquired ability (the nature-versus-
nurture issue again). Potentially definitive data would seem to come from stud-
ies of identical twins reared apart—for example, twins who have been adopted
into different families and who therefore have identical genetic endowment but
different environmental experiences. Analyses (Bouchard, 1983; Bouchard &
McGue, 1981) indicate that identical twins raised apart tend to have IQs much
more similar to each other than do nonidentical fraternal twins raised in the
same family. This evidence seems to indicate the existence of a strong innate
component of IQ. However, the interpretation of this result is not so clear. Iden-
tical twin studies tend to have an underrepresentation of individuals from low
socioeconomic groups, and there is evidence that environmental factors have a
stronger influence on intelligence measures among individuals raised in lower
social classes (Nisbett et al., 2012). Also, even in cases where there appears to
be a strong genetic influence, the effect may occur because of indirect factors.
Dickens & Flynn (2001) argue that certain individuals may be genetically pre-
disposed to seek out intellectually stimulating environments. This is how they
explain the Flynn effect mentioned earlier—that intelligence has grown dra-
matically over the last century. The Flynn effect would make no sense if genes
directly controlled intelligence, but it would make sense if genes influenced the
environments people chose and if these environments had a strong influence on
their intelligence. Then increased schooling and the increased complexity of the
world over the last century would provide the environmental change that would
raise the intelligence of each generation. Still, within a generation certain indi-
viduals would have a genetic predisposition to seek out the most intellectually
stimulating aspects of their world.
Although intelligence tests measure only some limited aspect of human
capability and although intelligence is some still poorly understood mixture
of genetic influences and environmental influences, the remarkable fact is that
intelligence tests are able to predict success in certain endeavors. They predict
with modest accuracy both performance in school and general success in life
(or at least in Western societies), including success in one’s profession (Schmidt
and Hunter, 2004). What is it about the mind that the tests are measuring?
Much of the theoretical work in the field has been concerned with trying to
answer this question, and to understand this work, one must understand a little
about a major method of the field, factor analysis.
■ Standard intelligence tests measure general factors that predict
success in school.
Factor Analysis
The general intelligence tests contain a number of subtests that measure indi-
vidual abilities. As already noted, many specialized tests also are available for
measuring particular abilities. The basic observation is that people who do well
on one test or subtest tend to do well on another test or subtest. The degree to
which people perform comparably on two subtests is measured by a correlation
coefficient. If all the same people who did well on one test did just as well on
another, the correlation between the two tests would be 1. If all the people who
did well on one test did proportionately badly on another, the correlation coef-
ficient would be 21. If there were no relation between how people did on one
Anderson_8e_Ch14.indd 355 13/09/14 9:59 AM
356 / Chapter 14 i n D i v i D u A l D i f f e r e n C e S i n C o g n i T i o n
test and how they did on another test, the correlation coefficient would be zero.
Typical correlations between tests are positive, but not 1, indicating a less than
perfect relation between performance on one test and on another.
For example, Hunt (1985) looked at the relations among the seven tests de-
scribed in Table 14.2. Table 14.3 shows the intercorrelations among scores on
these tests. As can be seen, some pairs of tests are more correlated than others.
For instance, there is a relatively high (.67) correlation between reading com-
prehension and vocabulary but a relatively low (.14) correlation between read-
ing comprehension and spatial reasoning. Factor analysis is a way of trying to
Test Name Description
1. reading comprehension Answer questions about paragraph
2. vocabulary Choose synonyms for a word
3. grammar identify correct and poor usage
4. Quantitative skills read word problems and decide whether problem can
be solved
5. Mechanical reasoning examine a diagram and answer questions about it; requires
knowledge of physical and mechanical principles
6. Spatial reasoning indicate how two-dimensional figures will appear if they
are folded through a third dimension
7. Mathematics achievement A test of high school algebra
TABLE 14.2 Description of Some of the Tests on the Washington pre-College Test Battery
Data from Hunt (1985).
Does IQ determine success
in life?
iQ appears to have a strong predic-
tive relationship to many socially
relevant factors besides academic
performance. The American psy-
chological Association report
Intelligence: Knowns and Unknowns
(neisser et al., 1996) states that iQ
accounts for about one-fifth of the
variance (positive correlations in the
range of .3 to .5) in factors like job
performance and income. it has an
even stronger relationship to socio-
economic status.
There are weaker negative corre-
lations with antisocial measures like
criminal activity. There is a natural
tendency to infer from this that iQ is
directly related to being a successful
member of our society, but there
are reasons to question a direct
relationship. Access to various edu-
cational opportunities and to some
jobs depends on test scores. Access
to other professions depends on
completing various educational pro-
grams, the access to which is partly
determined by test scores. given
the strong relationship between iQ
and these test scores, we would
expect that higher-iQ members of
our society would get better training
and professional opportunities.
lower-scoring members of our soci-
ety have more limited opportunities
and often are sorted by their test
scores into environments where
there is more antisocial behavior.
Another confounding factor is
that success in society is at every
point determined by judgments of
other members of the society. for
instance, most studies of job per-
formance use measures like ratings
of supervisors rather than actual
measures of job performance. pro-
motions are often largely depend-
ent on judgments of superiors. Also,
legal resolutions such as sentencing
decisions in criminal cases have
strong judgmental aspects to them.
it could be that iQ more strongly
affects these social judgments than
the actual performances being
judged, such as how well one does
one’s job or how bad a particular
activity was. individuals in positions
of power, such as judges and super-
visors, tend to have high iQs. Thus,
there is the possibility that some of
the success associated with high iQ
is an in-group effect where high-iQ
people favor people who are
similar to them.
I m p l I c a t I o n s
▼
O
ld
V
isu
als
/A
lam
y.
▲
Anderson_8e_Ch14.indd 356 13/09/14 9:59 AM
p S y C H o M e T r i C S T u D i e S o f C o g n i T i o n / 357
make sense of these correlational patterns. The basic idea is to try to arrange
these tests in a multidimensional space such that the distances between the tests
correspond to their correlation: the closer together two tests are in the space,
the higher their correlation. Tests close together can be taken to measure the
same thing. Figure 14.16 shows an attempt to organize the tests in Table 14.2
into a two-dimensional area. The reader can confirm that the closer the tests
are in this space, the higher their correlation in Table 14.3.
An interesting question is how to make sense of this space. As we go from
the bottom to the top in Figure 14.16, the tests become increasingly symbolic
and linguistic. We might refer to this dimension as a linguistic factor. Second,
we might argue that, as we go from the left to the right, the tests become more
computational in character. We might consider this dimension a reasoning fac-
tor. High correlations can be explained in terms of students having similar val-
ues of these factors. Thus, there is a high correlation between quantitative skills
and mathematics achievement because they both have an intermediate degree
of linguistic involvement and require substantial reasoning. People who have
strong reasoning ability and average or better verbal ability will tend to do well
on these tests.
Factor analysis is basically an effort to go from a set of intercorrelations like
those in Table 14.3 to a small set of factors or dimensions that explain those in-
tercorrelations. There has been considerable debate about what the underlying
factors are. Perhaps you can see other ways to ex-
plain the correlations in Table 14.3. For instance,
you might argue that a linguistic factor links tests
1 through 3, a reasoning factor links tests 4, 5, and
7, and there is a separate spatial factor for test 6.
Indeed, we will see that there have been many
proposals for separate linguistic, reasoning, and
spatial factors, although, as shown by the data in
Table 14.3, it is a little difficult to separate the spa-
tial and reasoning factors.
The difficulty in interpreting such data is
manifested in the wide variety of positions that
have been taken about what the underlying factors
of human intelligence are. Spearman (1904)
argued that only one general factor underlies
performance across tests, a factor that he called
g. In contrast, Thurstone (1938) argued that
there are a number of separate factors, including
1. Reading comprehension
2. Vocabulary
3. Grammar
5. Mechanical
reasoning
4. Quantitative skills
7. Mathematics achievement
6. Spatial reasoning
Test No. 1 2 3 4 5 6 7
1 1.00 .67 .63 .40 .33 .14 .34
2 1.00 .59 .29 .46 .19 .31
3 1.00 .41 .34 .20 .46
4 1.00 .39 .46 .62
5 1.00 .47 .39
6 1.00 .46
7 1.00
TABLE 14.3 intercorrelations Between results of the Tests listed in Table 14.2
Data from Hunt (1985).
FIGURE 14.16 A two-dimensional
representation of the tests in
Table 14.2. The distance between
points decreases with increases in
the intercorrelations in Table 14.3.
(Copyright © 1983 by the APA.
Adapted by permission.)
Anderson_8e_Ch14.indd 357 13/09/14 9:59 AM
358 / Chapter 14 i n D i v i D u A l D i f f e r e n C e S i n C o g n i T i o n
verbal, spatial, and reasoning. Guilford (1956) proposed no less than 150
distinct intellectual abilities. Cattell (1963) proposed a distinction between
fluid and crystallized intelligence; crystallized intelligence refers to acquired
knowledge, whereas fluid intelligence refers to the ability to reason or to solve
problems in novel domains. In Figure 14.12, fluid intelligence, not crystallized
intelligence, shows the age-related decay. Horn (1968), elaborating on Cattell’s
theory, argued that there is a spatial intelligence that can be separated from fluid
intelligence. Table 14.3 can be interpreted in terms of the Horn-Cattell theory,
where crystallized intelligence maps into the linguistic factor (tests 1 to 3), fluid
intelligence into the reasoning factor (tests 4, 5, and 7), and spatial intelligence
into the spatial factor (test 6). Fluid intelligence tends to be tapped strongly in
mathematical tests, but it is probably better referred to as a reasoning ability
rather than a mathematical ability. It is a bit difficult to separate the fluid and
spatial intelligences in factor analytical studies, but it appears possible (Horn &
Stankov, 1982).
Although it is hard to draw any firm conclusions about what the real
factors are, it seems clear that there is some differentiation in human intel-
ligence as measured by intelligence tests. Probably, the Horn-Cattell theory
or the Thurstone theory offer the best analyses, producing what we will call
a verbal factor, a spatial factor, and a reasoning factor. The rest of this chap-
ter will provide further evidence for the division of the human intellect into
these three abilities. This conclusion is significant because it indicates that some
specialization is involved in achieving human cognitive function.
In a survey of virtually all data sets, Carroll (1993) proposed what he called
a three-strata theory of intelligence that combines the Horn-Cattell and Thurs-
tone perspectives. At the lowest stratum are specific abilities, such as the ability
to be a physicist. Such abilities, Carroll thinks, are largely not inheritable. At the
next stratum are broader abilities such as the verbal factor (crystallized intel-
ligence), the reasoning factor (fluid intelligence), and the spatial factor. Finally,
Carroll noted that these factors tend to correlate together to define something
like Spearman’s g at the highest stratum.
In the past few decades, there has been considerable interest in the way in
which these measures of individual differences relate to the kinds of theories
of information processing that are found in cognitive psychology. For instance,
how do participants with high spatial abilities differ from those with low
spatial abilities in their performance on the spatial imagery tasks discussed
in Chapter 4? Makers of intelligence tests have tended to ignore such questions
because their major goal is to predict scholastic performance. We will look at
some information-processing studies that try to understand the reasoning
factor, the verbal factor, and the spatial factor.
■ Factor-analysis methods identify that a reasoning ability, a verbal
ability, and a spatial ability underlie performance on various intel-
ligence tests.
Reasoning Ability
Typical tests used to measure reasoning include mathematical problems, analogy
problems, series extrapolation problems, deductive syllogisms, and problem-
solving tasks. These tasks are the kinds analyzed in great detail in Chapters 8
through 10. In the context of this book, such abilities might better be called
problem-solving abilities. Most of the research in psychometric tests has focused
only on whether a person gets a question right or not. In contrast, information-
processing analyses try to examine the steps by which a person decides on an
answer to such a question and the time necessary to perform each step.
Anderson_8e_Ch14.indd 358 13/09/14 9:59 AM
p S y C H o M e T r i C S T u D i e S o f C o g n i T i o n / 359
The research of Sternberg (1977; Sternberg & Gardner, 1983) is an
attempt to connect the psychometric research tradition with the information-
processing tradition. He analyzed how people process a wide variety of
reasoning problems. Figure 14.17 illustrates one of his analogy problems.
Participants were asked to solve the analogy “A is to B as C is to D1 or D2?”
Sternberg analyzed the process of making such analogies into a number of
stages. Two critical stages in his analysis are called reasoning and comparison.
Reasoning requires finding each feature that changes between A and B and
applying it to C. In Figure 14.17, A and B differ by a change in costume from
spotted to striped. Thus, one predicts that C will change from spotted to striped
to yield D. Comparison requires comparing the two choices, D1 and D2; D1 and
D2 are compared feature by feature until a feature is found that enables a choice.
Thus, a participant may first check that both D1 and D2 have an umbrella
(which they do), then that both wear a striped suit (which they do), and then
that both have a dark hat (which only D1 has). The dark hat feature will allow
the participant to reject D2 and accept D1.
Sternberg was interested in the time that participants needed to make
these judgments. He theorized that they would take a certain amount longer
for each feature in which A differed from B because this feature would have to
be changed to derive D from C. Sternberg and Gardner (1983) estimated a time
of 0.28 s for each such feature. This length of time is the reasoning parameter.
They also estimated 0.60 s to compare a feature predicted of D with the features
of D1 and D2. This length of time is the comparison parameter. The values 0.28
and 0.60 are just averages; the actual values of these reasoning and comparison
times varied across participants. Sternberg and Gardner looked at the correla-
tions between the values of these parameters for individual participants and the
psychometric measures of participants’ reasoning abilities. They found a cor-
relation of .79 between the reasoning parameter and a psychometric measure of
reasoning and a correlation of .75 between the comparison parameter and the
psychometric measure. These correlations mean that participants who are slow
in reasoning or comparison do poorly in psychometric tests of reasoning. Thus,
Sternberg and Gardner were able to show that measures of speed identified
in an information-processing analysis are critical to psychometric measures of
intelligence.
■ Participants who score high on reasoning ability are able to per-
form individual steps of reasoning rapidly.
(a)
(c) D1 D2
(b)
FIGURE 14.17 An example of
an analogy problem used by
Sternberg and gardner (1983).
(Sternberg, R. J., & Gardner, M.
K. (1983). Unities in inductive
reasoning. Journal of experimental
psychology: general, 112, 80–116.
Copyright © 1983 American Psy-
chological Association. Reprinted
by permission.)
Anderson_8e_Ch14.indd 359 13/09/14 9:59 AM
360 / Chapter 14 i n D i v i D u A l D i f f e r e n C e S i n C o g n i T i o n
Verbal Ability
Probably the most robust factor to emerge from intelligence tests is the verbal
factor. There has been considerable interest in determining what processes
distinguish people with strong verbal abilities. Goldberg, Schwartz, and
Stewart (1977) compared people with high verbal ability and those with low
verbal ability with respect to the way in which they make various kinds of word
judgments. One kind of word judgment concerned simply whether pairs of
words were identical. Thus, participants would say yes to a pair such as
● bear, bear
Other participants were asked to judge whether pairs of words sounded alike.
Thus, they would say yes to a pair such as
● bare, bear
A third group of participants were asked to judge whether pairs of words were
in the same category. Thus, they would say yes to a pair such as
● lion, bear
Figure 14.18 shows that participants with high verbal ability enjoy only a small
advantage on the identity judgments but show much larger advantages on the
sound and meaning matches. This study and others (e.g., Hunt, Davidson,
& Lansman, 1981) have convinced researchers that a major advantage of
participants with high verbal ability is the speed with which they can go
High verbal
Identity
700
800
900
1,000
1,100
1,200
1,300
Sound
Type of similarity
Meaning
Re
sp
on
se
ti
m
e
(m
s)
Low verbal
FIGURE 14.18 response time of participants having high verbal abilities compared with
those having low verbal abilities in judging the similarity of pairs of words as a function of
three types of similarity. (Goldberg, R. A., Schwartz, S., & Stewart, M. (1977). Individual differ-
ences in cognitive processes. Journal of educational psychology, 69, 9–14. Copyright © 1977
American Psychological Association. Reprinted by permission.)
Anderson_8e_Ch14.indd 360 13/09/14 9:59 AM
p S y C H o M e T r i C S T u D i e S o f C o g n i T i o n / 361
from a linguistic stimulus to information about it—in the study depicted in
Figure 14.18 participants were going from the visual word to information
about its sound and meaning. Thus, as in the Sternberg studies in the preceding
subsection, speed of processing is related to intellectual ability.
There is also evidence for a fairly strong relation between working-memory
capacity for linguistic material and verbal ability. Daneman and Carpenter (1980)
developed the following test of individual differences in working-memory
capacity. Participants would read or hear a number of unrelated sentences such as
● When at last his eyes opened, there was no gleam of triumph, no shade
of anger.
● The taxi turned up Michigan Avenue where they had a clear view of
the lake.
After reading or hearing these sentences, participants had to recall the last word
of each sentence. They were tested on groups ranging from two to seven such
sentences. The largest group of sentences for which they could recall the last
words was defined as the reading span or listening span. College students had
spans from 2 to 5.5 sentences. These spans prove to be very strongly related to
their scores on comprehension tests and on tests of verbal ability. These reading
and listening spans are much more strongly related than are measures of simple
digit span. Daneman and Carpenter argued that a larger reading and listening
span indicates the ability to store a larger part of the text during comprehension.
■ People of high verbal ability are able to rapidly retrieve meanings of
words and have large working memories for verbal information.
Spatial Ability
Efforts have been made to relate measures of spatial ability to research on men-
tal rotation, such as that discussed in Chapter 4. Just and Carpenter (1985)
compared participants with low spatial ability and those with high spatial abil-
ity performing the Shepard and Metzler mental rotation tasks (see Chapter 4,
Figure 4.4). Figure 14.19 plots the speed with which these two types of partici-
pants can rotate figures of differing angular disparity. As
can be seen, participants with low spatial ability not only
performed the task more slowly but were also more affected
by angle of disparity. Thus the rate of mental rotation is
lower for participants with low spatial ability.
Spatial ability has often been set in contrast with verbal
ability. Although some people rate high on both abilities or
low on both, interest often focuses on people who display
a relative imbalance of the abilities. MacLeod, Hunt, and
Matthews (1978) found evidence that these different types
of people will solve a cognitive task differently. They looked
at performance on the Clark and Chase sentence-verifica-
tion task considered in Chapter 13. Recall that, in this task,
participants are presented with sentences such as The plus
is above the star or The star is not above the plus and asked
to determine whether the sentence accurately describes the
picture. Typically, participants are slower when there is a
negative such as not in the sentence and when the supposi-
tion of the sentences mismatches the picture.
MacLeod et al. speculated, however, that there were
really two groups of participants—those who took a
representation of the sentence and matched it against a
0
0
2,000
4,000
6,000
8,000
10,000
12,000
14,000
16,000
30 60
Angular disparity (degrees)
Low spatial
High spatial
Re
sp
on
se
ti
m
e
(m
s)
90 120 150 180
FIGURE 14.19 Mean time taken
to determine that two objects
have the same three-dimensional
shape as a function of the angu-
lar difference in their portrayed
orientations. Separate functions
are plotted for participants with
high spatial ability and those with
low spatial ability. (Just, M. A., &
Carpenter, P. A. (1985). Cogni-
tive coordinate systems: Accounts
of mental rotation and individual
differences in spatial ability. psy-
chological review, 92, 137–172.
Copyright © 1985 American Psy-
chological Association. Reprinted by
permission.)
Anderson_8e_Ch14.indd 361 13/09/14 9:59 AM
362 / Chapter 14 i n D i v i D u A l D i f f e r e n C e S i n C o g n i T i o n
picture and those who first converted the sentence into an
image of a picture and then matched that image against
the picture. They speculated that the first group would be
high in verbal ability, whereas the second group would be
high in spatial ability. In fact, they did find two groups of
participants. Figure 14.20 shows the judgment times of
these two groups as a function of whether the sentence was
true and whether it contained a negative. As can be seen,
the presence of a negative had a very substantial effect on
one group of participants but had no effect on the other
group. The group showing the effect was the group with
higher scores on tests of verbal ability, who compared the
sentence against the picture. The group not showing the
effect was the group with higher scores on tests of spatial
ability, who compared an image formed from the sentence
against the picture. Such an image would not have a
negative in it.
Reichle, Carpenter, and Just (2000) performed an fMRI
brain-imaging study of the regions activated in participants
using these two strategies. They explicitly instructed partici-
pants to use either an imagery strategy or a verbal strategy
to solve these problems. The participants instructed to use the imagery strategy
were told:
Carefully read each sentence and form a mental picture of the objects
in the sentence and their arrangement. . . . After the picture appears,
compare the picture to your mental image. (p. 268)
On the other hand, participants told to use the verbal strategy were told:
Don’t try to form a mental image of the objects in the sentence, but
instead look at the sentence only long enough to remember it until the
picture is presented. . . . After the picture appears, decide whether or
not the sentence that you are remembering describes the picture.
(p. 268)
They found that parietal regions associated with mental imagery tend to
be activated in participants who were told to use the imagery strategy (see
Chapter 4, Figure 4.1), whereas regions associated with verbal processing
tend to be activated in participants given the verbal strategy (see Chapter 11,
Figure 11.1). Interestingly, when told to use the imagery strategy, participants
who had lower spatial ability showed greater activation in their imagery areas.
Conversely, when told to use the verbal strategy, participants with lower
verbal ability tended to show greater activation in their verbal regions. Thus,
participants apparently have to engage in more neural effort when they are
required to use their less favored strategy.
■ People with high spatial ability can perform elementary spatial
operations quite rapidly and often choose to solve a task spatially
rather than verbally.
Conclusions from Psychometric Studies
A major outcome of the research relating psychometric measures to cognitive
tasks is to reinforce the distinction between verbal and spatial ability. These
differences in intellectual strengths have implications for more than test
performance. Not surprisingly, children with high spatial ability tend to choose
True
affirmative
500
600
700
800
900
1,000
1,100
1,200
1,300
1,400
1,500
1,600
False
affirmative
Sentence difficulty
M
ea
n
ve
rif
ica
tio
n
tim
e
(m
s)
High-spatial participants
High-verbal participants
False
negative
True
negative
FIGURE 14.20 Mean time taken
to judge a sentence as a function
of sentence type for participants
with high verbal ability compared
with those with high spatial abil-
ity. (MacLeod, C. M., Hunt, E. B., &
Matthews, N. N. (1978). Individual
differences in the verification of
sentence-picture relationships.
Journal of verbal learning and
verbal Behavior, 17, 493–507.
Copyright © 1978 with permission
of Elsevier. )
Anderson_8e_Ch14.indd 362 13/09/14 9:59 AM
C o n C l u S i o n S / 363
careers in science, technology, engineering, and mathematics, while children
with high verbal ability tend to go into professions like law and journalism
(Wai, Lubinski, & Benbow, 2009).
A second conclusion of this research is that differences in an ability
(reasoning, linguistic, or spatial) may result from differences in rates of process-
ing and working-memory capacities. A number of researchers (e.g., Salthouse,
1992; Just & Carpenter, 1992) have argued that the working-memory differences
may result from differences in processing speed, in that people can maintain
more information in working memory when they can process it more rapidly.
As already mentioned, Reichle et al. (2000) suggested that more-able par-
ticipants can solve problems with less expenditure of effort. An early study
confirming this general relation was performed by Haier et al. (1988). These
researchers looked at PET recordings taken during an abstract-reasoning task.
They found that the better-performing participants showed less PET activ-
ity, again indicating that poorer-performing participants have to work harder
at the same task. Like the information-processing work pointing to processing
speed, this finding suggests that differences in intelligence may correspond to
differences in very basic processes. There is a tendency to see such results as
favoring a nativist view, but in fact they are neutral to the nature-versus-nurture
controversy. Some people may take longer and may need to expend more effort
to solve a problem, either because they have practiced less or because they have
inherently less efficient neural structures. We saw earlier in the chapter that,
with practice, children could become faster than adults at processes such as
mental rotation. Figure 9.1 in Chapter 9 illustrated how the activity of the brain
decreases as participants become more practiced and faster at a task.
■ Individual differences in general factors such as verbal, reasoning,
and spatial abilities appear to correspond to the speed and ease with
which basic cognitive processes are performed.
◆ Conclusions
This concludes our consideration of human intelligence (this chapter) and
human cognition (this book). A recurring theme throughout the book has
been the diversity of the components of the mind. The first chapter reviewed
evidence for different specializations in the nervous system. The early chapters
reviewed the evidence for different levels of processing as information
entered the system. The different types of knowledge representation and the
distinction between procedural and declarative knowledge were presented.
Then, we considered the distinct status of language. Many of these distinctions
have been reinforced in this chapter on individual differences. Throughout this
book, different brain regions have been shown to be specialized to perform
different functions.
A second dimension of discussion has been rate of processing. Latency
data have been the most frequently used measure of cognitive functioning
in this book. Often, error measures (the second most common dependent
measure) were shown to be merely indications of slow processing. We have
seen evidence in this chapter that individuals vary in their rate of processing,
and this book has stressed that this rate can be increased with practice.
Interestingly, the neuroscience evidence tends to associate faster processing
with lower metabolic expenditure. The more efficient mind seems to perform
its tasks faster and at less cost.
In addition to the quantitative component of speed, individual differ-
ences have a qualitative component. People can differ in where their strengths
Anderson_8e_Ch14.indd 363 13/09/14 9:59 AM
364 / Chapter 14 i n D i v i D u A l D i f f e r e n C e S i n C o g n i T i o n
lie. They can also differ in their selection of strategies for solving problems.
We saw evidence in Chapter 9 that one dimension of growing expertise is the
development of more effective strategies.
One might view the human mind as being analogous to a large corporation
that consists of many interacting components. The differences among
corporations are often due to the relative strengths of their components. With
practice, different components tend to become more efficient at doing their
tasks. Another way to achieve improvement is by strategic reorganizations
of parts of the corporation. However, there is more to a successful company
than just the sum of its parts. These pieces have to interact together smoothly
to achieve the overall goals of the organization. Some researchers (e.g.,
Newell, 1990) have complained about the rather fragmented picture of the
human mind that emerges from current research in cognitive psychology. One
agenda for future research will be to understand how all the pieces fit together
to achieve a human mind.
Questions for Thought
1. Chapter 12 discussed data on child language
acquisition. In learning a second language, younger
children initially learn less rapidly, but there is
evidence that they eventually achieve higher levels
of mastery than their older counterparts. Discuss
this phenomenon from the point of view of this
chapter. Consider in particular Figure 12.8.
2. Most American presidents were between the ages
of 50 and 59 when they were first elected as presi-
dent. The youngest elected president was Kennedy
(43 when he was first elected) and the oldest was
Reagan (69 when he was first elected). The 2008
presidential election featured a contest between
a 47-year-old Obama and a 72-year-old McCain.
What are the implications of this chapter for an
ideal age for an American president?
3. J. E. Hunter and R. F. Hunter (1984) report that
ability measures like IQ are better predictors of
job performance than are academic grades. Why
might this be so? A potentially relevant fact is that
the most commonly used measure of job perfor-
mance is supervisor ratings.
4. The chapter reviewed a series of results indicat-
ing that higher-ability people tended to perform
basic information-processing steps in less time.
There is also a relationship between ability and
the perceived time it takes to perform a demand-
ing task (Fink & Neubauer, 2005). Generally, the
more difficult an intellectual task we perform, the
more we tend to underestimate how long it took.
Higher-ability people tend to have more realistic
estimates of the passage of time (i.e., they under-
estimate less). Why might they underestimate
time less? How could this be related to the fact
that they perform the task more rapidly?
5. As an example of the importance of spatial im-
agery to science, Newcombe & Frick (2010) state
“Watson and Crick’s discovery of the structure
of DNA occurred when they were able to fit a
three-dimensional model to Rosalind Franklin’s
flat images of the molecule—clearly a spatial
task.” Rosalind Franklin suffered from the sexism
of her time, and there is a debate about whether
she should have been awarded the Nobel Prize
along with Watson and Crick. There is also much
discussion about the role of gender differences in
spatial ability and its implications for science, as
well as the role of societal factors in gender dif-
ference in spatial ability (e.g., Hoffman, Gneezy,
& List, 2011). Check out the history of Rosalind
Franklin and decide whether she should have
been awarded the Nobel Prize.
Key Terms
concrete-operational
stage
conservation
crystallized intelligence
factor analysis
fluid intelligence
formal-operational stage
intelligence quotient (IQ)
preoperational stage
psychometric test
sensory-motor stage
Anderson_8e_Ch14.indd 364 13/09/14 9:59 AM
365
Glossary
2½-D sketch: Marr’s proposal for a visual representation that
identifies where surfaces are located in space relative to the
viewer. (p. 34)
3-D model: Marr’s proposal for an object-centered represen-
tation of a visual scene. (p. 34)
abstraction theory: A theory holding that concepts are rep-
resented as abstract descriptions of their central tendencies.
Contrast with exemplar theory. (p. 118)
ACT (Adaptive Control of Thought): Anderson’s theory of
how declarative knowledge and procedural knowledge interact
in complex cognitive processes. (p. 133)
action potential: The sudden change in electric potential
that travels down the axon of a neuron. (p. 12)
activation: A state of memory traces that determines both the
speed and the probability of access to a memory trace. (p. 133)
affirmation of the consequent: The logical fallacy that one
can reason from the affirmation of the consequent of a condi-
tional statement to the affirmation of its antecedent: If A, then
B and B is true together can be thought (falsely) to imply A is
true. (p. 240)
AI: See artificial intelligence.
allocentric representation: A representation of the environ-
ment according to a fixed coordinate system. Contrast with
egocentric representation. (p. 92)
amnesia: A memory deficit due to brain damage. See also
anterograde amnesia; retrograde amnesia; Korsakoff syn-
drome. (p. 173)
amodal hypothesis: The proposal that meaning is not repre-
sented in a particular modality. Contrast with multimodal
hypothesis. (p. 109)
amodal symbol system: The proposal that information is
represented by symbols that are not associated with a par-
ticular modality. Contrast with perceptual symbol
system. (p. 106)
analogy: The process by which a problem solver maps the
solution for one problem into a solution for another prob-
lem. (p. 188)
antecedent: The condition of a conditional statement; that is,
the A in If A, then B. (p. 239)
anterior cingulate cortex (ACC): Medial portion of the
prefrontal cortex important in control and dealing with con-
flict. (p. 75)
anterograde amnesia: Loss of the ability to learn new
things after an injury. Contrast with retrograde amnesia.
(pp. 124, 173)
aphasia: An impairment of speech that results from a brain
injury. (p. 17)
apperceptive agnosia: A form of visual agnosia marked by
the inability to recognize simple shapes such as circles and
triangles. (p. 27)
argument: An element of a propositional representation that
corresponds to a time, place, person, or object. (p. 105)
articulatory loop: Part of Baddeley’s proposed system for
rehearsing verbal information. (p. 130)
artificial intelligence (AI): A field of computer science that
attempts to develop programs that will enable machines to
display intelligent behavior. (p. 1)
associative agnosia: A form of visual agnosia marked by the
inability to recognize complex objects such as an anchor,
even though the patient can recognize simple shapes and can
copy drawings of complex objects. (p. 27)
associative spreading: Facilitation in access to information
when closely related items are presented. (p. 136)
associative stage: The second of Fitts’s stages of skill acquisi-
tion, in which the declarative representation of a skill is
converted into a procedural representation. (p. 212)
atmosphere hypothesis: The proposal by Woodworth and
Sells that, when faced with a categorical syllogism, people
tend to accept conclusions having the same quantifiers as
those of the premises. (p. 248)
attention: The allocation of cognitive resources among
ongoing processes. (p. 54)
attenuation theory: Treisman’s theory of attention, which
proposes that we weaken some incoming sensory signals on
the basis of their physical characteristics. (p. 56)
attribute identification: The problem of determining what
attributes are relevant to the formation of a hypothesis. See
also rule learning. (p. 253)
auditory sensory store: A memory system that effectively
holds all the information heard for a brief period of time.
Also called echoic memory. (p. 126)
automaticity: The ability to perform a task with little or no
central cognitive control. (p. 72)
autonomous stage: The third of Fitts’s stages of skill acquisi-
tion, in which the performance of a skill becomes auto-
mated. (p. 212)
axon: The part of a neuron that carries information from one
region of the brain to another. (p. 12)
backup avoidance: The tendency in problem solving to
avoid operators that take one back to a state already visited.
(p. 191)
backward inference: See bridging inference.
bar detector: A cell in the visual cortex that responds most
to bars in the visual field. Compare edge detector. (p. 31)
Anderson_8e_GLOS.indd 365 13/09/14 10:02 AM
366 / G l o s s a r y
basal ganglia: Subcortical structures that play a critical role in
the control of motor movement and complex cognition. (p. 16)
Bayes’s theorem: A theorem that prescribes how to com-
bine the prior probability of a hypothesis with the condi-
tional probability of the evidence, given the hypothesis, to
assess the posterior probability of the hypothesis, given the
evidence. (p. 262)
behaviorism: The theory that psychology should be con-
cerned only with behavior and should not refer to mental
constructs underlying behavior. (p. 6)
binding problem: The question of how the brain determines
which features in the visual field go together to form an
object. (p. 63)
blood oxygen level dependent (BOLD) response: A mea-
sure obtained in fMRI studies of the amount of oxygen in the
blood. (p. 24)
bottom-up processing: The processing of a stimulus in
which information from a physical stimulus, rather than
from general context, is used to help recognize the stimulus.
Contrast with top-down processing. (p. 47)
bridging inference: In sentence comprehension, an inference
that connects the sentence to the prior context. Contrast with
elaborative inference. (p. 329)
Broca’s area: A region in the left frontal cortex that is important
for processing language, particularly syntax in speech. (p. 17)
categorical perception: The perception of stimuli being in
distinct categories without gradual variations. (p. 45)
categorical syllogism: A syllogism consisting of statements
that have logical quantifiers in which one premise relates A
to B, another relates B to C, and the conclusion relates A to
C. (p. 247)
center-embedded sentences: A sentence in which one clause
is embedded within another; for example, The boy whom the
girl liked was sick. (p. 319)
central bottleneck: The inability of central cognition to pur-
sue multiple lines of thought simultaneously. Contrast with
perfect time-sharing. (p. 72)
central executive: Baddeley’s proposed system for control-
ling various slave rehearsal systems, such as the articulatory
loop and the visuospatial sketchpad. (p. 129)
change blindness: The inability to detect a change in a scene
when the change matches the context. (p. 50)
cognitive map: A mental representation of the locations of
objects and places in the environment. See also route map;
survey map. (p. 89)
cognitive neuroscience: The study of the neural basis of
cognition. (p. 10)
cognitive psychology: The scientific study of cognition. (p. 1)
cognitive stage: The first of Fitts’ stages of skill acquisition,
in which the declarative encoding of a skill is developed and
used. (p. 211)
competence: A term in linguistics that refers to a person’s
abstract knowledge of a language, which is not always mani-
fested in performance. (p. 285)
componential analysis: An approach to instruction that
begins with an analysis of the individual elements that need
to be learned. (p. 232)
concrete-operational stage: The third of Piaget’s four
stages of development, during which a child has systematic
schemes for thinking about the physical world. (p. 340)
conditional probability: In the context of Bayes’s theorem,
the probability that a particular piece of evidence will be
found if a hypothesis is true. (p. 262)
conditional statement: An assertion that, if an antecedent is
true, then a consequent must be true: a statement of the form
If A, then B. (p. 239)
confirmation bias: The tendency to seek evidence that is
consistent with one’s current hypothesis. (p. 255)
consequent: The result of a conditional statement; the B in If
A, then B. (p. 239)
conservation: A term used by Piaget to refer to the particu-
lar properties of objects that are preserved under certain
transformations. (p. 341)
consonantal feature: A consonant-like quality in a phoneme.
(p. 44)
constituent: A subpattern that corresponds to a basic phrase,
or unit, in a sentence’s surface structure. (p. 315)
corpus callosum: A broad band of fibers that enables com-
munication between the left and the right hemispheres of the
brain. (p. 17)
crystallized intelligence: Cattell’s term for the factor in
intelligence that depends on acquired knowledge. (p. 358)
decay theory: The theory that forgetting is caused by the
spontaneous decay of memory traces over time. Contrast
with interference theory. (p. 154)
declarative memory: Explicit knowledge of various facts.
Contrast with procedural knowledge. (p. 179)
deductive reasoning: Reasoning in which the conclusions
can be determined to follow with certainty from the prem-
ises. (p. 239)
Deese-Roediger-McDermott paradigm: A paradigm for
creating false memories of words by presenting associatively
related words. (p. 167)
default value: A typical value for a slot in a schema represen-
tation. (p. 113)
deliberate practice: The kind of practice that Ericsson
postulated to be critical for the development of expertise.
This practice is highly motivated and includes careful self-
monitoring. (p. 228)
dendrite: The branching part of a neuron that receives syn-
apses from the axons of other neurons. (p. 11)
Anderson_8e_GLOS.indd 366 13/09/14 10:02 AM
G l o s s a r y / 367
denial of the antecedent: The logical fallacy that one can
reason from the denial of the antecedent of a conditional
statement to the denial of its consequent: If A, then B and Not
A together are thought (falsely) to imply Not B. (p. 241)
depth of processing: The theory that memory for informa-
tion is improved if the information is processed at deeper
levels of analysis. (p. 128)
descriptive model: A model that states how people actually
behave. Contrast with prescriptive model. (p. 263)
dichotic listening task: A task in which participants in an
experiment are presented with two messages simultaneously,
one to each ear, and are instructed to repeat back the words
from only one of them. (p. 54)
difference reduction: The tendency in problem solving to
select operators that eliminate a difference between the cur-
rent state and the goal. (p. 192)
dissociation: A demonstration that a manipulation has an
effect on performance of one task but not another. Such
demonstrations are thought to be important in arguing for
different cognitive systems. (p. 175)
dorsolateral prefrontal cortex (DLPFC): Upper portion of
the prefrontal cortex thought to be important in cognitive
control. (p. 75)
dual-code theory: Paivio’s theory that there are separate
visual and verbal representations for knowledge. (p. 106)
early-selection theory: A theory of attention stating that
serial bottlenecks occur early in information processing.
Contrast with late-selection theory. (p. 54)
echoic memory: Another term for auditory sensory store.
(p. 126)
edge detector: A cell in the visual cortex that responds most
to edges in the visual field. Compare bar detector. (p. 31)
egocentric representation: A representation of the environ-
ment as it appears in a current view. Contrast with allocentric
representation. (p. 91)
Einstellung effect: The term used by Luchins to refer to
the set effect, in which people repeat a solution that has
worked for previous problems even when a simpler solu-
tion is possible. (p. 203)
elaborative inference: In sentence comprehension, an
inference that connects a text to possible material not yet
asserted. Contrast with bridging inference. (p. 329)
elaborative processing: The embellishment of a to-be-
remembered item with additional information. (p. 141)
electroencephalography (EEG): Measurement of electrical ac-
tivity of the brain, measured by electrodes on the scalp. (p. 20)
embodied cognition: The viewpoint that the mind can only
be understood by taking into account the human body and
how it interacts with the environment. (p. 108)
empiricism: The position that all knowledge comes from
experience in the world. Compare nativism. (p. 4)
encoding-specificity principle: Tulving’s principle that
memory is better when the encoding of an item at study
matches the encoding at test. (p. 172)
epiphenomenon: A secondary mental event that has no
functional role in the information processing. (p. 78)
event-related potential (ERP):Measurement of changes in
electrical activity at the scalp in response to an external
event. (p. 21)
excitatory synapse: A synapse in which the neurotransmit-
ters decrease the potential difference across the membrane of
the neuron.(p. 12)
executive control: The direction of central cognition,
which is carried out mainly by prefrontal regions of the
brain. (p. 75)
exemplar theory: A theory holding that we gain our knowl-
edge of concepts by retrieving specific exemplars of the
concepts. Contrast with abstraction theory. (p. 118)
explicit memory: Knowledge that we can consciously recall.
Contrast with implicit memory. (p. 175)
factor analysis: In the context of intelligence tests, a statisti-
cal method that tries to find a set of factors that will account
for performance across a range of tests. (p. 356)
false-memory syndrome: A term used to describe the con-
dition of false memories of childhood abuse. (p. 166)
fan effect: The phenomenon that the retrieval of memories
takes longer as more things are associated with the items
composing the original memories. (p. 157)
feature analysis: A theory of pattern recognition that claims
that we extract primitive features and then recognize their
combinations. (p. 37)
feature-integration theory: Treisman’s proposal that one
must focus attention on a set of features before the individual
features can be synthesized into a pattern. (p. 63)
feature map: A representation of the spatial locations of a
particular visual feature. (p. 32)
filter theory: Broadbent’s early-selection theory of atten-
tion, which assumes that, when sensory information has
to pass through a bottleneck, only some of the informa-
tion is selected for further processing, on the basis of
physical characteristics such as the pitch of a speaker’s
voice. (p. 55)
flashbulb memory: Particularly good memory for an event
that is very important and traumatic. (p. 145)
fluid intelligence: Cattell’s term for the factor in intelligence
that depends on the ability to reason or solve problems. (p. 358)
fMRI: See functional magnetic resonance imaging.
formal-operational stage: The fourth of Piaget’s four stages
of development, during which a child has abstract schemes
for reasoning about the world. (p. 340)
forward inference: See elaborative inference.
Anderson_8e_GLOS.indd 367 13/09/14 10:02 AM
368 / G l o s s a r y
fovea: The area of the retina with the greatest visual acuity.
When we focus on an object, we move the eyes so that the
image of the object falls on the fovea. (p. 29)
framing effect: The tendency for people to make different
choices among the same alternatives, depending on the state-
ment of the alternatives. (p. 273)
frontal lobe: The region at the front of the cerebral cortex that
includes the motor cortex and the prefrontal cortex. (p. 15)
functional fixedness: The tendency to see objects only as
serving conventional problem-solving functions and thus
failing to see that they can serve novel functions. (p. 202)
functional magnetic resonance imaging (fMRI): A method
for determining metabolic activity by measuring the mag-
netic field produced by the iron in oxygenated blood. (p. 21)
fusiform face area: A part of the temporal cortex that is
especially involved in fine discriminations, particularly of
faces. (p. 87)
fusiform gyrus: A region in the temporal cortex involved in
recognition of complex patterns like faces and words. (p. 42)
fuzzy logical model of perception (FLMP): Massaro’s theory
of perception, which states that stimulus features and context
combine independently to determine perception. (p. 49)
gambler’s fallacy: The belief that, if a string of probabilistic
events has turned out one way, there is an increased probabili-
ty that the next event will now turn out the other way. (p. 269)
garden-path sentence: A sentence with a transient ambiguity
that causes us to make the wrong interpretation initially and
then have to correct ourselves. (p. 323)
General Problem Solver (GPS): A problem-solving simula-
tion program created by Newell and Simon that embodies
means-ends analysis. (p. 194)
geon: One of Biederman’s 36 primitive categories of sub-
objects that we combine to perceive larger objects. See also
recognition-by-components theory. (p. 40)
gestalt principles of organization: Principles that determine
how a scene is organized into components. The principles
include proximity, similarity, good continuation, closure, and
good form. (p. 34)
Gestalt psychology: An approach to psychology that empha-
sizes principles of organization that result in holistic proper-
ties of the brain that go beyond the activity of the parts. (p. 7)
goal-directed attention: Allocation of processing resources
in response to one’s goals. Contrast with stimulus-driven
attention. (p. 54)
goal state: A state in a problem space in which the goal is
satisfied. (p. 183)
grammar: A set of rules that prescribe all the acceptable
utterances of a language. A grammar consists of syntax,
semantics, and phonology. (p. 284)
gyrus: An outward bulge on the brain. Contrast with sulcus.
(p. 15)
hemodynamic response: The increased flow of oxygenated
blood to a region of the brain that has greater activity—the
basis of fMRI brain imaging. (p. 21)
hill climbing: The tendency to choose operators in problem
solving that transform the current state into a new state more
similar to the goal. (p. 192)
hippocampus: A structure within the temporal lobe that
plays a critical role in the formation of permanent memories.
(p. 16)
iconic memory: Another term for visual sensory store.
(p. 126)
illusory conjunction: The illusion that features of different
objects actually came from a single object. (p. 63)
immediacy of interpretation: The principle of language
processing stating that people commit to an interpretation
of a word and its role in a sentence as soon as they process
the word. (p. 317)
implicit memory: Knowledge that we cannot consciously
recall but that nonetheless manifests itself in our improved
performance on some task. Contrast with explicit memory.
(p. 175)
incubation effect: The phenomenon that sometimes a
solution to a particular problem comes more easily after a
period of time in which one has stopped trying to solve the
problem. (p. 204)
inductive reasoning: Reasoning in which the conclusions
follow only probabilistically from the premises. (p. 239)
information-processing approach: An analysis of human
cognition into a set of steps in which information is
processed. (p. 9)
inhibition of return: The decreased ability to return our at-
tention to a location or an object that we have already looked
at. (p. 67)
inhibitory synapse: A synapse in which the neurotransmit-
ters increase the potential difference across the membrane of
a neuron. (p. 12)
insight problem: A problem in which the subject is not
aware of being close to a solution. (p. 206)
intelligence quotient (IQ): A measure of general intellectual
performance that is normed to have a mean of 100 and a
standard deviation of 15. (p. 353)
intelligent tutoring system: A computer system that
combines cognitive models with techniques from artificial
intelligence to create instructional interactions with students.
(p. 233)
interactive processing: The position that semantic and syn-
tactic cues are simultaneously brought to bear in interpreting
a sentence. Contrast with modularity. (p. 326)
interference theory: The theory that forgetting is caused by
other memories interfering with the retention of the target
memory. Contrast with decay theory. (p. 154)
Anderson_8e_GLOS.indd 368 13/09/14 10:02 AM
G l o s s a r y / 369
introspection: A methodology much practiced at the turn
of the 20th century in Germany that attempted to analyze
thought into its components through self-analysis. (p. 4)
isa link: A particular link in a semantic network or schema
that indicates the superset of the category. (p. 110)
Korsakoff syndrome: An amnesia resulting from chronic
alcoholism and nutritional deficit. (p. 173)
language universal: A property that all natural languages
satisfy. (p. 309)
late-selection theory: A theory of attention stating that
serial bottlenecks occur late in information processing. An
example is Deutsch and Deutsch’s theory, according to which
all sensory information can be processed, but our ability
to respond to that information has attentional limitations.
Contrast with early-selection theory. (p. 54)
linguistic determinism: The proposal that the structure
of one’s language strongly influences the way in which one
thinks. (p. 295)
linguistic intuition: A judgment by the speaker of a
language about whether a sentence is well formed and about
other properties of the sentence. (p. 284)
linguistics: The study of the structure of language. (pp. 8, 283)
logical quantifiers: An element such as all, no, some, and some
not that appears in such statements as All A are B. (p. 246)
long-term potentiation (LTP): The increase in responsive-
ness of a neuron as a function of past stimulation. (p. 139)
magnetoencephalography (MEG): Measurement of mag-
netic fields produced by electrical activity in the brain. (p. 21)
mastery learning: The effort to bring students to mastery of
each element in a curriculum before promoting them to new
material in the curriculum. (p. 232)
means-ends analysis: The creation of a new goal (end)
to enable a problem-solving operator (means) to apply in
achieving the old goal. (p. 192)
memory span: The amount of information that can be
perfectly retained in an immediate test of memory. (p. 127)
mental imagery: The processing of perceptual-like informa-
tion in the absence of an external source for the perceptual
information. (p. 79)
mental model theory: Johnson-Laird’s theory that partici-
pants judge a syllogism by imagining a world that satisfies the
premises and seeing whether the conclusion is satisfied in
that world. (p. 250)
mental rotation: The process of continuously transforming
the orientation of a mental image. (p. 82)
method of loci: A mnemonic technique used to associate
items to be remembered with locations along a well-known
path. (p. 145)
mirror neuron: A neuron that fires either when the animal
is performing the action or when it observes another animal
performing the action. (p. 108)
mnemonic technique: A method for enhancing memory
performance by giving the material to be remembered a
meaningful interpretation. (p. 103)
modularity: The proposal that language is a component
separate from the rest of cognition. It further argues that
language comprehension has an initial phase in which only
syntactic considerations are brought to bear. Contrast with
interactive processing. (p. 299)
modus ponens: The rule of logic stating that, if a conditional
statement is true and its antecedent is true, then its conse-
quent must be true: Given both the proposition If A, then B
and the proposition A, we can infer that B is true. (p. 239)
modus tollens: The rule of logic stating that, if a conditional
statement is true and its consequent is false, then its anteced-
ent must be false: Given the proposition If A, then B and the
fact that B is false, we can infer that A is false. (p. 240)
mood congruence: The phenomenon that one’s memory is
better for studied material whose emotional content matches
one’s mood at test. (p. 170)
multimodal hypothesis: The theory that knowledge is
represented in multiple perceptual and motor modalities.
(p. 109)
N400: A negativity in the event-related potential (ERP) at
about 400 ms after the processing of a semantically difficult
word. (p. 322)
nativism: The position that children come into the world
with a great deal of innate knowledge. Compare empiricism.
(p. 4)
natural language: A language that can be acquired and
spoken by humans. (p. 309)
negative transfer: Poor learning of a second task as a func-
tion of having learned a first task. (p. 232)
neuron: A cell in the nervous system responsible for
information processing. Neurons accumulate and transmit
electrical activity. (p. 11)
neurotransmitter: A chemical that crosses the synapse from
the axon of one neuron and alters the electric potential of the
membrane of another neuron. (p. 11)
object-based attention: Allocation of attention to chunks of
visual information corresponding to an object. Contrast with
space-based attention. (p. 67)
occipital lobe: The region at the back of the cerebral cortex
that controls vision. (p. 15)
operator: A term used in problem-solving research to refer
to a particular action that will transform the problem state
into another problem state. The solution of an overall prob-
lem is a sequence of these known operators. (p. 183)
Anderson_8e_GLOS.indd 369 13/09/14 10:02 AM
370 / G l o s s a r y
P600: A positivity in the event-related potential (ERP) at
about 600 ms after the processing of a syntactically difficult
word. (p. 322)
parahippocampal place area (PPA): A region adjacent to
the hippocampus that is active when people are perceiving
places. (p. 87)
parameter setting: The proposal that children learn a
language by learning the setting of 100 or so parameters that
define a natural language. (p. 311)
parietal lobe: The region at the top of the cerebral cortex
concerned with attention and higher level sensory functions.
(p. 15)
parsing: The process by which the words in a linguistic mes-
sage are transformed into a mental representation of their
combined meaning. (p. 313)
partial-report procedure: An experimental procedure in
which participants are cued to report only some of the items
in a display. Contrast with whole-report procedure. (p. 126)
particular statement: A statement, frequently using the
word some, that logicians interpret as meaning it is true
about at least some members of a category. Contrast with
universal statement. (p. 248)
perceptual symbol system: Barsalou’s proposal that all
knowledge is represented by information that is perceptual
and tied to particular modalities. Contrast with amodal
symbol system. (p. 106)
perfect time-sharing: The ability to pursue more than one
task at the same time. Contrast with central bottleneck. (p. 70)
performance: A term in linguistics that refers to the way
a person speaks. This behavior is thought to be only an
imperfect manifestation of the person’s linguistic competence.
(p. 285)
permission schema: An interpretation of a conditional
statement in which the antecedent specifies the situations in
which the consequent is permitted. (p. 243)
phoneme: The minimal unit of speech that can result in a
difference in a spoken message. (p. 43)
phoneme-restoration effect: The tendency to hear phonemes
that make sense in the speech context even if no such pho-
nemes were spoken. (p. 49)
phonological loop: Part of Baddeley’s proposed system for
rehearsing verbal information. Compare visuospatial sketch-
pad. (p. 129)
phonology: The study of the sound structure of languages.
(p. 284)
phrase structure: The hierarchical organization of a sen-
tence into a set of units called phrases, sometimes repre-
sented as a tree structure. (p. 286)
place of articulation: The place at which the vocal tract is
closed or constricted in the production of a phoneme. (p. 44)
positron emission tomography (PET): A method for
measuring metabolic activity in different regions of the brain
with the use of a radioactive tracer. (p. 21)
posterior probability: In Bayes’s theorem, the probability
that a hypothesis is true after consideration of the evidence.
(p. 263)
power function: A function in which the independent vari-
able X is raised to a power to obtain the dependent variable
Y, as in Y = AXb. (p. 138)
power law of forgetting: The phenomenon that memory
performance deteriorates as a power function of the retention
interval. (p. 153)
power law of learning: The phenomenon that memory per-
formance improves as a power function of practice. (p. 138)
prefrontal cortex: The region at the front of the frontal cor-
tex that controls planning and other higher level cognition.
(p. 15)
preoperational stage: The second of Piaget’s four stages
of development, during which a child has unsystematic
schemes for thinking about the physical world. (p. 340)
prescriptive model: A model that specifies how people
ought to behave to be considered rational. Contrast with
descriptive model. (p. 263)
primal sketch: The level of visual processing in Marr’s model
in which the visual features have been extracted from a
stimulus. (p. 51)
priming: The enhancement of the processing of a stimulus
as a function of prior exposure. (p. 176)
principle of minimal attachment: A rule of parsing that
interprets a sentence in a way that results in minimal compli-
cation of the phrase structure. (p. 324)
prior probability: In Bayes’s theorem, the probability that a
hypothesis is true before consideration of the evidence.
(p. 262)
probability matching: The tendency to choose an alternative
with a probability that matches the frequency with which
that alternative occurs in experience. (p. 267)
problem space: A representation of the various sequences of
problem-solving operators that lead among various states of a
problem. Also called state space. (p. 183)
procedural knowledge: Knowledge of how to perform vari-
ous tasks. Contrast with declarative knowledge. (p. 177)
proceduralization: The process by which declarative knowl-
edge is converted into procedural knowledge. (p. 216)
productivity: Refers to the fact that natural languages have
an infinite number of possible utterances. (p. 283)
proposition: The smallest unit of knowledge that can stand
as a separate assertion. (p. 104)
propositional representation: A representation of meaning
as a set of propositions. (p. 104)
prosopagnosia: A neurological disorder characterized by the
inability to recognize faces. (p. 42)
psychometric test: A test of various aspects of a person’s
intellectual performance. (p. 353)
Anderson_8e_GLOS.indd 370 13/09/14 10:02 AM
G l o s s a r y / 371
rate of firing: The number of action potentials, or nerve
impulses, an axon transmits per second. (p. 13)
recognition-by-components theory: Biederman’s theory
stating that we recognize objects by first identifying the geons
that correspond to their subobjects. (p. 40)
recognition heuristic: If one item can be recognized and
another cannot, people view the recognized item to have a
higher value on dimensions like size. (p. 270)
regularity: Refers to the fact that natural languages have
systematic rules that determine the possible forms of utter-
ances. (p. 283)
relation: The element that organizes the arguments of a
propositional representation. (p. 105)
retrograde amnesia: Loss of memory for things that
occurred before an injury. Contrast with anterograde
amnesia. (p. 173)
route map: A representation of the environment consisting
of the paths between locations. Contrast with survey map.
(p. 89)
rule learning: Determining how the features combine to
make a hypothesis. (p. 253)
schema: A representation of members of a category based
on the type of objects that they are, the parts that they tend
to have, and their typical properties. A slot-value structure is
used to represent this information. (p. 112)
script: A schema representation proposed by Schank and
Abelson for event concepts. (p. 116)
search: The process by which one finds a sequence of opera-
tors to solve a problem. (p. 183)
search tree: A representation of the set of states that can be
reached by applying operators to an initial state. (p. 185)
selection task: A task in which a participant is given a con-
ditional statement of the form If A, then B and must choose
which situations among A, B, Not A, and Not B need to be
checked to test the truth of the conditional. (p. 242)
semantics: The meaning structure of linguistic units.
(p. 284)
sensory-motor stage: The first of Piaget’s four stages of
development, during which a child lacks basic schemes for
thinking about the physical world and experiences it in
terms of sensations and actions. (p. 340)
serial bottleneck: The point in the path from perception
to action at which people cannot process all the incoming
information in parallel. (p. 53)
set effect: The biasing of a solution to a problem as a result of
past experiences in solving that kind of problem. (p. 202)
short-term memory: A proposed intermediate memory
system that holds information as it travels from sensory
memory to long-term memory. (p. 127)
situation model: A representation of the events and situa-
tions described in a text. (p. 334)
slot: An element of a schema that indicates different attri-
butes of a concept. (p. 112)
space-based attention: Allocation of attention to visual
information in a region of space. Contrast with object-based
attention. (p. 67)
split-brain patient: A patient who has had surgery to
sever the corpus callosum, which connects left and right
hemispheres. (p. 17)
spreading activation: The proposal that activation spreads
from items currently or recently processed to other parts
of the memory network, activating the memory traces that
reside there. (p. 135)
state: A term in problem solving used to refer to a represen-
tation of the problem in some degree of solution. (p. 183)
state-dependent learning: The phenomenon that memory
performance is better when we are tested in the same
emotional and physical state as we were in when we learned
the material. (p. 171)
Sternberg paradigm: An experimental procedure in which
participants are presented with a memory set consisting of a
few items and must decide whether various probe items are
in the memory set. (p. 9)
stimulus-driven attention: Allocation of processing
resources in response to a salient stimulus. Contrast with
goal-directed attention. (p. 54)
strategic learning: The learning of how to organize one’s
problem solving for a specific class of problems. Compare
tactical learning. (p. 219)
strength: The property of a memory trace that determines
how active the trace can become. Strength increases with
practice and decays with time. (p. 137)
Stroop effect: A phenomenon in which the tendency to
name a word will interfere with the ability to say the color in
which the word is printed. (p. 73)
subgoal: A goal set in service of achieving a larger goal.
(p. 183)
subjective probability: The probability people associate with
an event, which need not be identical to the event’s objective
probability. (p. 273)
subjective utility: The value that someone places on some-
thing. (p. 272)
sulcus: An inward crease of the brain. Contrast with gyrus.
(p. 15)
survey map: A representation of the environment consisting
of the position of locations in space. Contrast with route
map. (p. 89)
syllogism: A logical argument consisting of two premises
and a conclusion. (p. 238)
synapse: The location at which the axon of one neuron almost
makes contact with the dendrite of another neuron. (p. 11)
syntax: Grammatical rules for specifying correct word order
and inflectional structure in a sentence. (p. 284)
Anderson_8e_GLOS.indd 371 13/09/14 10:02 AM
372 / G l o s s a r y
tactical learning: The learning of sequences of actions that
help solve a problem. Compare strategic learning. (p. 217)
template matching: A theory of pattern recognition stating
that an object is recognized as a function of its overlap with
various pattern templates stored in the brain. (p. 36)
temporal lobe: The region at the side of the cerebral cortex
that contains the primary auditory areas and controls the
recognition of objects. (p. 15)
theory of identical elements: The theory that there will be
transfer from one skill to another only to the extent that
the skills have the same knowledge elements in common.
(p. 231)
top-down processing: The processing of a stimulus in
which information from the general context is used to help
recognize the stimulus. Contrast with bottom-up processing.
(p. 47)
topographic organization: A principle of neural
organization in which adjacent areas of the cortex process
information from adjacent parts of the sensory field. (p. 18)
Tower of Hanoi problem: A problem-solving task in which
disks are moved among pegs. (p. 196)
transcranial magnetic stimulation (TMS): A magnetic field
is applied to the surface of the head to disrupt the neural
processing in that region of brain. (p. 22)
transformation: A linguistic rule that moves a term from
one part of a sentence to another part. (p. 290)
transient ambiguity: A temporary ambiguity within a sen-
tence that is resolved by the end of the sentence. (p. 323)
Type I process: Rapid and automatic processes that some-
times determine reasoning and decision making. (p. 257)
Type II process: Slow and deliberative processes that some-
times determine reasoning and decision making. (p. 257)
universal statements: A statement, often involving words
like all or none, that logicians interpret as having no excep-
tions. Contrast with particular statement. (p. 247)
utilization: The process by which language comprehenders
respond to the meaning of a linguistic message. (p. 313)
ventromedial prefrontal cortex: The portion of the cortex
in the front and center of the brain. It seems to be involved
in decision making and self-regulation, including activities
like gambling behavior. (p. 260)
visual agnosia: An inability to recognize visual objects that
results neither from general intellectual loss nor from loss of
basic sensory abilities. (p. 27)
visual sensory store: A memory system that effectively holds
all the information in a visual array for a very brief period of
time (about a second). Also called iconic memory. (p. 126)
visuospatial sketchpad: Part of Baddeley’s proposed system
for rehearsing visual information. Compare phonological
loop. (p. 129)
voicing: The property of a phoneme produced by vibration of
the vocal cords. (p.44)
Wernicke’s area: A region of the left temporal lobe important
to language, particularly the semantic content of speech. (p. 17)
whole-report procedure: A procedure in which participants
are asked to report all the items of a display. Contrast with
partial-report procedure. (p. 126)
word superiority effect: The superior recognition of letters
presented in a word context than when the letters are pre-
sented alone. (p. 48)
working memory: The information that is currently avail-
able in memory for working on a problem. (p. 129)
Anderson_8e_GLOS.indd 372 13/09/14 10:02 AM
373
References
Aaronson, D., & Scarborough, H. S. (1977). Performance theories for
sentence coding: Some quantitative models. Journal of Verbal Learning
and Verbal Behavior, 16, 277–304.
Adolphs, R. D., Tranel, A., Bechara, A., Damasio, H., & Damasio,
A. R. (1996). Neuropsychological approaches to reasoning and
decision-making. In A. R. Damasio, Y. Christen, & H. Damasio (Eds.),
Neurobiology of decision (pp. 157–179). New York: Springer.
Ainsworth-Darnell, K., Shulman, H. G., & Boland, J. E. (1998). Dissociating
brain responses to syntactic and semantic anomalies: Evidence from event-
related potentials. Journal of Memory and Language, 38, 112–130.
Albert, M. L. (1973). A simple test of visual neglect. Neurology, 23, 658–664.
Allopenna, P. D., Magnuson, J. S., & Tanenhaus, M. K. (1998). Tracking the
time course of spoken word recognition using eye movements: Evidence
for continuous mapping models. Journal of Memory and Language, 38,
419–439.
Anderson, J. R. (1974). Retrieval of propositional information from
long-term memory. Cognitive Psychology, 6, 451–474.
Anderson, J. R. (1982). Acquisition of cognitive skill. Psychological Review,
89, 369–406.
Anderson, J. R. (1983). The architecture of cognition. Cambridge, MA:
Harvard University Press.
Anderson, J. R. (1990). The adaptive character of thought. Hillsdale, NJ: Erlbaum.
Anderson, J. R. (1991). The adaptive nature of human categorization.
Psychological Review, 98, 409–429.
Anderson, J. R. (1992). Intelligent tutoring and high school mathematics.
Proceedings of the Second International Conference on Intelligent Tutoring
Systems (pp. 1–10). Montreal: Springer-Verlag.
Anderson, J. R. (1993). Rules of the mind. Hillsdale, NJ: Erlbaum.
Anderson, J. R. (2000). Learning and memory. New York: Wiley. Anderson,
J. R. (2007). How can the human mind occur in the physical universe? New
York: Oxford University Press.
Anderson, J. R., Betts, S., Ferris, J. L., & Fincham, J. M. (2010). Neural
imaging to track mental states while using an intelligent tutoring system.
Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences, USA, 107(15), 7018-7023.
Anderson, J. R., Bothell, D., Lebiere, C., & Matessa, M. (1998). An
integrated theory of list memory. Journal of Memory and Language, 38,
341–380.
Anderson, J. R., & Bower, G. H. (1972). Configural properties in sentence
memory. Journal of Verbal Learning and Verbal Behavior, 11, 594–605.
Anderson, J. R., & Bower, G. H. (1973). Human associative memory.
Washington, DC: Winston.
Anderson, J. R., Conrad, F. G., & Corbett, A. T. (1989). Skill acquisition and
the LISP Tutor. Cognitive Science, 13, 467–506.
Anderson, J. R., Farrell, R., & Sauers, R. (1984). Learning to program in
LISP. Cognitive Science, 8, 87–129.
Anderson, J. R., Kushmerick, N., & Lebiere, C. (1993). Navigation and
conflict resolution. In J. R. Anderson (Ed.), Rules of the mind
(pp. 93–120). Hillsdale, NJ: Erlbaum.
Anderson, J. R., & Lebiere, C. (Eds.). (1998). Atomic components of thought.
Mahwah, NJ: Erlbaum.
Anderson, J. R., Reder, L. M., & Simon, H. (1998). Radical constructivism
and cognitive psychology. In D. Ravitch (Ed.), Brookings papers on educa-
tion policy (pp. 227–278). Washington, DC: Brookings Institute Press.
Anderson, J. R., & Reiser, B. J. (1985). The LISP tutor. Byte, 10, 159–175.
Anderson, M. C. (2003). Rethinking interference theory: Executive control
and the mechanisms of forgetting. Journal of Memory and Language, 49,
415–445.
Anderson, M. C., & Green, C. (2001). Suppressing unwanted memories by
executive control. Nature, 410, 366–369.
Anderson, M. C., & Spellman, B. A. (1995). On the status of inhibitory
mechanisms in cognition: Memory retrieval as a model case. Psychological
Review, 102, 68–100.
Angell, J. R. (1908). The doctrine of formal discipline in the light of the
principles of general psychology. Educational Review, 36, 1–14.
Antell, S., & Keating, D. P. (1983). Perception of numerical invariance in
neonates. Child Development, 54, 695–701.
Arrington, C. M., Carr, T. H., Mayer, A. R., & Rao, S. M. (2000). Neural
mechanisms of visual attention: Object-based selection of a region in
space. Journal of Cognitive Neuroscience, 12(Suppl. 2), 106–117.
Ashby, F. G., Maddox, W. T. (2005). Human category learning. Annual Review
of Psychology, 56, 149–178.
Ashby, F. G., & Maddox, W. T. (2011). Human category learning 2.0. Annals
of the New York Academy of Sciences, 1224(1), 147–161.
Atkinson, R. C., & Shiffrin, R. M. (1968). Human memory: A proposed
system and its control processes. In K. Spence & J. Spence (Eds.), The
psychology of learning and motivation (Vol. 2, pp. 89–195). New York:
Academic Press.
Atwood, M. E., & Polson, P. G. (1976). A process model for water jug
problems. Cognitive Psychology, 8, 191–216.
Ausubel, D. P. (1968). Educational psychology: A cognitive view. New York:
Holt, Rinehart, & Winston.
Baars, B. J., Motley, M. T., & MacKay, D. G. (1975). Output editing for lexical
status in artificially elicited slips of the tongue. Journal of Verbal Learning
and Verbal Behavior, 14, 382–391.
Baddeley, A. D. (1976). The psychology of memory. New York: Basic Books.
Baddeley, A. D. (1986). Working memory. Oxford: Oxford University Press.
Baddeley, A. D., Thompson, N., & Buchanan, M. (1975). Word length and
the structure of short-term memory. Journal of Verbal Learning and
Verbal Behavior, 14, 575–589.
Bahrick, H. P. (1984). Semantic memory content in permastore: Fifty years
of memory for Spanish learned in school. Journal of Experimental
Psychology: General, 113, 1–24.
Bahrick, H. P. (circa 1993). Personal communication.
Barbey, A. K., & Sloman, S. A. (2007). Base-rate respect: From ecological
rationality to dual processes. Behavioral and Brain Sciences, 30(3), 241–254.
Barbizet, J. (1970). Human memory and its pathology. San Francisco: W. H.
Freeman.
Barnes, C. A. (1979). Memory deficits associated with senescence: A
neurophysiological and behavioral study in the rat. Journal of Comparative
Physiology, 43, 74–104.
Baron-Cohen, S. (1995). Mindblindness: An essay on autism and theory of
mind. Cambridge, MA: MIT Press.
Barsalou, L. W. (1999). Perceptual symbol systems. Behavioral and Brain
Sciences, 22, 577–609.
Barsalou, L. W. (2003). Personal communication, March 12.
Barsalou, L. W. (2008). Grounded cognition. Annual Review of Psychology,
59, 617–645.
Barsalou, L. W., Simmons, W. K., Barbey, A., & Wilson, C. D. (2003).
Grounding conceptual knowledge in modality-specific systems. Trends in
Cognitive Sciences, 7, 84–91.
Bartolomeo, P. (2002). The relationship between visual perception and
visual mental imagery: A reappraisal of the neuropsychological evidence.
Cortex, 38, 357–378.
Barton, R. A. (1998). Visual specialization and brain evolution in primates.
Proceedings of the Royal Society of London B, 265, 1933–1937.
Bassok, M. (1990). Transfer of domain-specific problem-solving procedures.
Journal of Experimental Psychology: Learning, Memory, and Cognition, 16,
522–533.
Anderson_8e_Ref.indd 373 13/09/14 10:03 AM
374 / r e f e r e n c e s
Bassok, M., & Holyoak, K. J. (1989). Interdomain transfer between
isomorphic topics in algebra and physics. Journal of Experimental
Psychology: Learning, Memory, and Cognition, 15, 153–166.
Bates, A., McNew, S., MacWhinney, B., Devesocvi, A., & Smith, S. (1982).
Functional constraints on sentence processing: A cross-linguistic study.
Cognition, 11, 245–299.
Bavelier, D., Green, C. S., Pouget, A., & Schrater, P. (2012). Brain plasticity
through the life span: Learning to learn and action video games. Annual
Review of Neuroscience, 35, 391–416.
Baylis, G. C., Rolls, E. T., & Leonard, C. M. (1985). Selectivity between faces
in the responses of a population of neurons in the cortex in the superior
temporal sulcus of the monkey. Brain Research, 342, 91–102.
Bechara, A., Damasio, A. R., Damasio, H., & Anderson, S. W. (1994).
Insensitivity to future consequences following damage to human
prefrontal cortex. Cognition, 50, 7–15.
Bechara, A., Damasio, H., Tranel, D., & Damasio, A. R. (2005). The Iowa
Gambling Task and the somatic marker hypothesis: Some questions and
answers. Trends in Cognitive Sciences, 9, 159–162.
Beck, B. B. (1980). Animal tool behavior: The use and manufacture of tools by
animals. New York: Garland STPM Press.
Beck, D. M., Rees, G., Frith, C. D., & Lavie, N. (2001). Neural correlates of
change detection and change blindness. Nature Neuroscience, 4, 645–650.
Behrmann, M. (2000). The mind’s eye mapped onto the brain’s matter.
Current Psychological Science, 9, 50–54.
Behrmann, M., Geng, J. J., & Shomstein, S. (2004). Parietal cortex and atten-
tion. Current Opinion in Neurobiology, 14(2), 212–217.
Behrmann, M., Zemel, R. S., & Mozer, M. C. (1998). Object-based attention
and occlusion: Evidence from normal participants and computational
model. Journal of Experimental Psychology: Human Perception and Perfor-
mance, 24, 1011–1036.
Beilock, S. L., Lyons, I. M., Mattarella-Micke, A., Nusbaum, H. C., & Small,
S. L. (2008). Sports experience changes the neural processing of action
language. Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences, USA, 105,
13269–13273.
Bellugi, U., Wang, P. P., & Jernigan, T. L. (1994). Williams syndrome: An
unusual neuropsychological profile. In S. H. Broman & J. Grafman (Eds.),
Atypical cognitive deficits in developmental disorders implications for brain
function (pp. 23–56). Hillsdale, NJ: Erlbaum.
Benson, D. F., & Greenberg, J. P. (1969). Visual form agnosia. Archives of
Neurology, 20, 82–89.
Berlin, B., & Kay, P. (1969). Basic color terms: Their universality and evolution.
Berkeley, CA: University of California Press.
Berntsen, D., & Rubin, D. C. (2002). Emotionally charged autobiographical
memories across the life span: The recall of happy, sad, traumatic, and
involuntary memories. Psychology and Aging, 17, 636–652.
Berry, D. C., & Broadbent, D. E. (1984). On the relationship between task
performance and associated verbalizable knowledge. Quarterly Journal of
Experimental Psychology, 36A, 209–231.
Biederman, I. (1987). Recognition-by-components: A theory of human image
understanding. Psychological Review, 94, 115–147.
Biederman, I., Beiring, E., Ju, G., & Blickle, T. (1985). A comparison of the
perception of partial vs. degraded objects. Unpublished manuscript, State
University of New York at Buffalo.
Biederman, I., Glass, A. L., & Stacy, E. W. (1973). Searching for objects in
real world scenes. Journal of Experimental Psychology, 97, 22–27.
Biederman, I., & Ju, G. (1988). Surface vs. edge-based determinants of visual
recognition. Cognitive Psychology, 20, 38–64.
Bilalić, M., Langner, R., Ulrich, R., & Grodd, W. (2011). Many faces of
expertise: Fusiform face area in chess experts and novices. The Journal of
Neuroscience, 31(28), 10206-10214.
Binder, J. R., Desai, R. H., Graves, W. W., & Conant, L. L. (2009). Where
is the semantic system? A critical review and meta-analysis of 120 func-
tional neuroimaging studies. Cerebral Cortex, 19(12), 2767–2796.
Bjorklund, D. F., & Bering, J. M. (2003). Big brains, slow development and
social complexity: the developmental and evolutionary origins of social
cognition. In M. Brüne, H. Ribbert, & W. Schiefenhövel (Eds.), The social
brain: Evolution and pathology (pp. 111–151). New York: Wiley.
Blackburn, J. M. (1936). Acquisition of skill: An analysis of learning curves.
IHRB Rep. No. 73.
Bloom, B. S. (1984). The 2 sigma problem: The search for methods of group
instruction as effective as one-to-one tutoring. Educational Researcher,
13, 3–16.
Bloom, B. S. (Ed.). (1985a). Developing talent in young people. New York:
Ballantine Books.
Bloom, B. S. (1985b). Generalizations about talent development. In B. S.
Bloom (Ed.), Developing talent in young people (pp. 507–549). New York:
Ballantine Books.
Boden, M. (2006). Mind as machine. Oxford: Oxford University Press.
Boer, L. C. (1991). Mental rotation in perspective problems. Acta Psychologica,
76, 1–9.
Boole, G. (1854). An investigation of the laws of thought. London: Walton and
Maberly.
Boomer, D. S. (1965). Hesitation and grammatical encoding. Language and
Speech, 8, 148–158.
Boot, W. R., Blakely, D. P., & Simons, D. J. (2011). Do action video games
improve perception and cognition?. Frontiers in Psychology, 2.
Boring, E. G. (1950). A history of experimental psychology. New York:
Appleton Century.
Boroditsky, L., Schmidt, L., & Phillips, W. (2003). Sex, syntax, and semantics.
In D. Gentner & S. Goldin-Meadow (Eds.), Language in mind: Advances in
the study of language and cognition. Cambridge, MA: MIT Press.
Bouchard, T. J. (1983). Do environmental similarities explain the similarity in
intelligence of identical twins reared apart? Intelligence, 7, 175–184.
Bouchard, T. J., & McGue, M. (1981). Familial studies of intelligence: A
review. Science, 212, 1055–1059.
Bower, G. H., Black, J. B., & Turner, T. J. (1979). Scripts in memory for text.
Cognitive Psychology, 11, 177–220.
Bower, G. H., Karlin, M. B., & Dueck, A. (1975). Comprehension and
memory for pictures. Memory & Cognition, 3, 216–220.
Bower, G. H., & Mayer, J. D. (1985). Failure to replicate mood-dependent
retrieval. Bulletin of the Psychonomic Society, 23, 39–42.
Bower, G. H., Monteiro, K. P., & Gilligan, S. G. (1978). Emotional mood as
a context for learning and recall. Journal of Verbal Learning and Verbal
Behavior, 17, 573–587.
Bowerman, M. (1973). Structural relationships in children’s utterances:
Syntactic or semantic. In T. E. Moore (Ed.), Cognitive development and the
acquisition of language (pp. 197–213). New York: Academic Press.
Bownds, M. D. (1999). The biology of mind: Origins and structures of mind,
brain, and consciousness. Bethesda, MD: Fitzgerald Science Press.
Bradshaw, G. L., & Anderson, J. R. (1982). Elaborative encoding as an
explanation of levels of processing. Journal of Verbal Learning and Verbal
Behavior, 21, 165–174.
Brady, T. F., Konkle, T., Alvarez, G. A., & Oliva, A. (2008). Visual long-term
memory has a massive storage capacity for object details. Proceedings of
the National Academy of Sciences, USA, 105(38), 14325–14329.
Brainerd, C. J. (1978). Piaget’s theory of intelligence. Englewood Cliffs, NJ:
Prentice-Hall.
Bransford, J. D., Barclay, J. R., & Franks, J. J. (1972). Sentence memory: A
constructive versus interpretive approach. Cognitive Psychology, 3, 193–209.
Bransford, J. D., & Franks, J. J. (1971). The abstraction of linguistic ideas.
Cognitive Psychology, 2, 331–380.
Bransford, J. D., & Johnson, M. K. (1972). Contextual prerequisites for
understanding: Some investigations of comprehension and recall. Journal
of Verbal Learning and Verbal Behavior, 11(6), 717–726.
Brewer, J. B., Zhao, Z., Desmond, J. E., Glover, G. H., & Gabrieli, J. D.
(1998). Making memories: Brain activity that predicts how well visual
experience will be remembered. Science, 281, 118–120.
Brewer, W. F., & Treyens, J. C. (1981). Role of schemata in memory for places.
Cognitive Psychology, 13, 207–230.
Anderson_8e_Ref.indd 374 13/09/14 10:03 AM
r e f e r e n c e s / 375
Broadbent, D. E. (1958). Perception and communication. New York: Pergamon.
Broadbent, D. E. (1975). The magical number seven after fifteen years. In R. A.
Kennedy & A. Wilkes (Eds.), Studies in long-term memory (pp. 3–18). New
York: Wiley.
Brodmann, K. (1960). On the comparative localization of the cortex. In
G. von Bonin (Ed.), Some papers on the cerebral cortex (pp. 201–230).
Springfield, IL: Charles C. Thomas. (Original work published 1909.)
Brooks, L. R. (1968). Spatial and verbal components of the act of recall.
Canadian Journal of Psychology, 22, 349–368.
Brown, R. (1973). A first language. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press.
Brown, R., & Kulik, J. (1977). Flashbulb memories. Cognition, 5, 73–99.
Brown, R., & Lenneberg, E. H. (1954). A study in language and cognition.
Journal of Abnormal and Social Psychology, 49, 454–462.
Bruce, C. J., Desimone, R., & Gross, C. G. (1981). Visual properties of
neurons in a polysensory area in superior temporal sulcus of the macaque.
Neurophysiology, 46, 369–384.
Bruner, J. S. (1964). The course of cognitive growth. American Psychologist,
19, 1–15.
Bruner, J. S., Goodnow, J. J., & Austin, G. A. (1956). A study of thinking. New
York: NY Science Editions.
Buckner, R. L. (1998). Personal communication.
Burgess, N. (2006). Spatial memory: How egocentric and allocentric combine.
Trends in Cognitive Sciences, 10, 551–557.
Bursztein, E., Bethard, S., Fabry, C., Mitchell, J. C., & Jurafsky, D. (2010,
May). How good are humans at solving CAPTCHAs? a large scale
evaluation. In Security and Privacy (SP), 2010 IEEE Symposium on
(pp. 399–413). IEEE.
Buxhoeveden, D. P., & Casanova, M. F. (2002). The minicolumn hypothesis
in neuroscience. Brain, 125, 935–951.
Byrne, M. D., & Anderson, J. R. (2001). Serial modules in parallel: The
psychological refractory period and perfect time-sharing. Psychological
Review, 108, 847–869.
Byrne, R. M. (1989). Suppressing valid inferences with conditionals.
Cognition, 31(1), 61–83.
Cabeza, R., Rao, S. M., Wagner, A. D., Mayer, A. R., & Schacter, D. L.
(2001). Can medial temporal lobe regions distinguish true from false? An
event-related fMRI study of veridical and illusory recognition memory.
Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences, USA, 98, 4805–4810.
Camerer, C., Loewenstein, G., & Prelec, D. (2005). Neuroeconomics: How
neuroscience can inform economics. Journal of Economic Literature, 43, 9–64.
Camp, G., Pecher, D., & Schmidt, H. G. (2005). Retrieval-induced forgetting
in implicit memory tests: The role of test awareness. Psychonomic Bulletin
& Review, 12, 490–494.
Caplan, D. (1972). Clause boundaries and recognition latencies for words in
sentences. Perception and Psychophysics, 12, 73–76.
Caplan, D., Alpert, N., Waters, G., & Olivieri, A. (2000). Activation of
Broca’s area by syntactic processing under conditions of concurrent
articulation. Human Brain Mapping, 9, 65–71.
Caramazza, A. (2000). The organization of conceptual knowledge in the
brain. In M. S. Gazzaniga (Ed.), The cognitive neurosciences (2nd ed.,
pp. 1037–1046). Cambridge, MA: MIT Press.
Carey, S. (1978). The child as word learner. In M. Halle, J. Bresnan, & G.
Miller (Eds.), Linguistic theory and psychological reality (pp. 264–293).
Cambridge, MA: MIT Press.
Carey, S. (1985). Conceptual change in childhood. Cambridge, MA: MIT Press.
Carpenter, P. A., & Just, M. A. (1975). Sentence comprehension: A psycholin-
guistic processing model of verification. Psychological Review, 82, 45–73.
Carpenter, P. A., & Just, M. A. (1977). Reading comprehension as eyes see it.
In M. A. Just & P. A. Carpenter (Eds.), Cognitive processes in comprehen-
sion (pp. 109–140). Hillsdale, NJ: Erlbaum.
Carpenter, T. P., & Moser, J. M. (1982). The development of addition and
subtraction problem-solving skills. In T. P. Carpenter, J. M. Moser, & T.
Romberg (Eds.), Addition and subtraction: A cognitive perspective
(pp. 10–24). Hillsdale, NJ: Erlbaum.
Carraher, T. N., Carraher, D. W., & Schliemann, A. D. (1985). Mathematics in
the streets and in the schools. British Journal of Developmental Psychology,
3, 21–29.
Carroll, J. B. (1993). Human cognitive abilities: A survey of factor-analytic
studies. Cambridge, England: Cambridge University Press.
Case, R. (1978). Intellectual development from birth to adulthood: A
neo-Piagetian approach. In R. S. Siegler (Ed.), Children’s thinking: What
develops? (pp. 37–71). Hillsdale, NJ: Erlbaum.
Case, R. (1985). Intellectual development: A systematic reinterpretation. New
York: Academic Press.
Casey, B. J., Trainor, R., Giedd, J. N., Vauss, Y., Vaituzis, C. K., et al.
(1997a). The role of the anterior cingulate in automatic and controlled
processes: A developmental neuroanatomical study. Developmental
Psychobiology, 30, 61–69.
Casey, B. J., Trainor, R. J., Orendi, J. L., Schubert, A. B., Nystrom, L. E.,
et al. (1997b). A pediatric functional MRI study of prefrontal activa-
tion during performance of a Go-No-Go task. Journal of Cognitive
Neuroscience, 9, 835–847.
Cattell, R. B. (1963). Theory of fluid and crystallized intelligence: A critical
experiment. Journal of Educational Psychology, 54, 1–22.
Ceci, S. J. (1991). How much does schooling influence general intelligence
and its cognitive components? A reassessment of the evidence. Develop-
mental Psychology, 27, 703–722.
Chambers, D., & Reisberg, D. (1985). Can mental images be ambiguous?
Journal of Experimental Psychology: Human Perception and Performance,
11, 317–328.
Charness, N. (1976). Memory for chess positions: Resistance to interference. Jour-
nal of Experimental Psychology: Human Learning and Memory, 2, 641–653.
Charness, N. (1979). Components of skill in bridge. Canadian Journal of
Psychology, 33, 1–16.
Charness, N. (1981). Search in chess: Age and skill differences. Journal of
Experimental Psychology: Human Perception and Performance, 7, 467–476.
Chase, W. G., & Clark, H. H. (1972). Mental operations in the comparisons
of sentences and pictures. In L. W. Gregg (Ed.), Cognition in learning and
memory (pp. 205–232). New York: Wiley.
Chase, W. G., & Ericsson, K. A. (1982). Skill and working memory. In G. H.
Bower (Ed.), The psychology of learning and motivation (Vol. 16, pp. 1–58).
New York: Academic Press.
Chase, W. G., & Simon, H. A. (1973). The mind’s eye in chess. In W. G. Chase (Ed.),
Visual information processing (pp. 215–281). New York: Academic Press.
Chen, Z., & Cave, K. R. (2008). Object-based attention with endogenous
cuing and positional certainty. Perception & Psychophysics, 70, 1435–1443.
Cheng, P. W., & Holyoak, K. J. (1985). Pragmatic reasoning schemas. Cogni-
tive Psychology, 17, 391–416.
Cheng, P. W., Holyoak, K. J., Nisbett, R. E., & Oliver, L. M. (1986). Pragmatic
versus syntactic approaches to training deductive reasoning. Cognitive
Psychology, 18(3), 293–328.
Cherry, E. C. (1953). Some experiments on the recognition of speech with
one and with two ears. Journal of the Acoustical Society of America, 25,
975–979.
Chi, M. T. H. (1978). Knowledge structures and memory development. In R.
S. Siegler (Ed.), Children’s thinking: What develops? (pp. 76–93). Hillsdale,
NJ: Erlbaum.
Chi, M. T. H., Bassok, M., Lewis, M., Reimann, P., & Glaser, R. (1989). Self-
explanations: How students study and use examples in learning to solve
problems. Cognitive Science, 13, 145–182.
Chi, M. T. H., Feltovich, P. J., & Glaser, R. (1981). Categorization and repre-
sentation of physics problems by experts and novices. Cognitive Science,
5, 121–152.
Cichy, R. M., Heinzle, J., & Haynes, J. D. (2012). Imagery and perception
share cortical representations of content and location. Cerebral Cortex,
22(2), 372-380.
Chomsky, C. (1970). The acquisition of syntax in children from 5 to 10. Cam-
bridge, MA: MIT Press.
Chomsky, N. (1965). Aspects of the theory of syntax. Cambridge, MA: MIT Press.
Anderson_8e_Ref.indd 375 13/09/14 10:03 AM
376 / r e f e r e n c e s
Chomsky, N. (1980). Rules and representations. Behavioral and Brain Sciences,
3, 1–61.
Chomsky, N., & Halle, M. (1968). The sound pattern of English. New York:
Harper.
Chooi, W. T., & Thompson, L. A. (2012). Working memory training does not
improve intelligence in healthy young adults. Intelligence, 40(6), 531–542.
Christen, F., & Bjork, R. A. (1976). On updating the loci in the method of loci.
Paper presented at the 17th annual meeting of the Psychonomic Society,
St. Louis, MO.
Christensen, B. T., & Schunn, C. D. (2007). The relationship of analogical
distance to analogical function and pre-inventive structure: The case of
engineering design. Memory & Cognition, 35, 29–38.
Christianson, K., Hollingworth, A., Halliwell J., & Ferreira, F. (2001).
Thematic roles assigned along the garden path linger. Cognitive Psychol-
ogy, 42, 368–407.
Christoff, K., Prabhakaran, V., Dorfman, J., Zhao, Z., Kroger, J. K., et al.
(2001). Rostrolateral prefrontal cortex involvement in relational integra-
tion during reasoning. Neuroimage, 14, 1136–1149.
Chun, M. M., Golomb, J. D., & Turk-Browne, N. B. (2011). A taxonomy of
external and internal attention. Annual Review of Psychology, 62, 73–101.
Church, A. (1956). Introduction to mathematical logic. Princeton, NJ: Princ-
eton University Press.
Clark, E. V. (1983). Meanings and concepts. In P. H. Mussen (Ed.), Handbook
of child psychology (pp. 787–840). New York: Wiley.
Clark, H. H. (1974). Semantics and comprehension. In R. A. Sebeok (Ed.),
Current trends in linguistics (Vol. 12, pp. 1291–1428). The Hague: Mouton.
Clark, H. H., & Chase, W. G. (1972). On the process of comparing sentences
against pictures. Cognitive Psychology, 3, 472–517.
Clark, H. H., & Clark, E. V. (1977). Psychology and language. New York:
Harcourt Brace Jovanovich.
Clark, H. H., & Fox Tree, J. E. (2002). Using uh and um in spontaneous
speech. Cognition, 84, 73–111.
Clifton, C., Jr., & Duffy, S. (2001). Sentence comprehension: Roles of linguistic
structure. Annual Review of Psychology, 52, 167–196.
Cohen J. D., & Servan-Schreiber, D. (1992). Context, cortex and dopamine:
A connectionist approach to behavior and biology in schizophrenia.
Psychological Review, 99, 45–77.
Cohen, M. R., & Nagel, E. (1934). An introduction to logic and scientific
method. New York: Harcourt Brace.
Cohen, J. T., & Graham, J. D. (2003). A revised economic analysis of restric-
tions on the use of cell phones while driving. Risk Analysis, 23, 5–17.
Cole, M., & D’Andrade, R. (1982). The influence of schooling on concept
formation: Some preliminary conclusions. Quarterly Newsletter of the
Laboratory of Comparative Human Cognition, 4, 19–26.
Cole, M., Gay, J., Glick, J., & Sharp, D. (1971). The cultural context of learning
and thinking. New York: Basic Books.
Collins, A. M., & Quillian, M. R. (1969). Retrieval time from semantic
memory. Journal of Verbal Learning and Verbal Behavior, 8, 240–247.
Conrad, C. (1972). Cognitive economy in semantic memory. Journal of
Experimental Psychology, 92, 149–154.
Conrad, R. (1964). Acoustic confusions in immediate memory. British Journal
of Psychology, 55, 75–84.
Conway, M. A., Anderson, S. J., Larsen, S. F., Donnelly, C. M., McDaniel,
M. A., et al. (1994). The formation of flashbulb memories. Memory &
Cognition, 22, 326–343.
Cooper, W. E., & Paccia-Cooper, J. (1980). Syntax and speech. Cambridge,
MA: Harvard University Press.
Corbett, A. T., & Anderson, J. R. (1990). The effect of feedback control on
learning to program with the LISP tutor. Proceedings of the 12th Annual
Conference of the Cognitive Science Society, 796–803.
Corbett, A. T., & Chang, F. R. (1983). Pronoun disambiguation: Accessing
potential antecedents. Memory & Cognition, 11, 283–294.
Corbetta, M., & Shulman, G. L. (2002). Control of goal-directed and stimu-
lus-driven attention in the brain. Nature Reviews Neuroscience, 3, 201–215.
Cosmides, L. (1989). The logic of social exchange: Has natural selection
shaped how humans reason? Studies with the Wason selection task.
Cognition, 31, 187–276.
Cowan, N. (2005). Working memory capacity. New York: Psychology Press.
Cowart, W. (1983). Reference relations and syntactic processing: Evidence of
pronoun’s influence on a syntactic decision that affects naming. Indiana
University Linguistics Club.
Craik, F. I. M., & Lockhart, R. S. (1972). Levels of processing: A framework
for memory research. Journal of Verbal Learning and Verbal Behavior, 11,
671–684.
Crick, F. H. C., & Asanuma, C. (1986). Certain aspects of the anatomy and
physiology of the cerebral cortex. In J. L. McClelland & D. E. Rumelhart
(Eds.), Parallel distributed processing: Explorations in the microstructure
of cognition (Vol. 2, pp. 331–371). Cambridge, MA: MIT Press/Bradford
Books.
Crossman, E. R. F. W. (1959). A theory of the acquisition of speed-skill.
Ergonomics, 2, 153–166.
Curran, T. (1995). On the neural mechanisms of sequence learning.
Psyche, 2(12) [On-line].
Damasio, H., Grabowski, T., Frank, R., Galaburda, A. M., & Damasio,
A. R. (1994). The return of Phineas Gage: Clues about the brain from
the skull of a famous patient. Science, 264, 1102–1105.
Daneman, M., & Carpenter, P. A. (1980). Individual differences in working
memory and reading. Journal of Verbal Learning and Verbal Behavior, 19,
450–466.
Darwin, G. J., Turvey, M. T., & Crowder, R. G. (1972). An auditory analogue
of the Sperling Partial Report Procedure: Evidence for brief auditory
storage. Cognitive Psychology, 3, 255–267.
Daugherty, K. G., MacDonald, M. C., Petersen, A. S., & Seidenberg, M. S.
(1993). Why no mere mortal has ever flown out to center field but people
often say they do. Proceedings of the 15th Annual Conference of the Cogni-
tive Science Society, 383–388.
Daw, N. D., Niv, Y., and Dayan, P. (2005). Uncertainty-based competition
between prefrontal and dorsolateral striatal systems for behavioral con-
trol. Nature Neuroscience, 8, 1704–1711.
de Beer, G. R. (1959). Paedomorphesis. Proceedings of the 15th International
Congress of Zoology, 927–930.
Deese, J. (1959). On the prediction of occurrence of particular verbal intru-
sions in immediate recall. Journal of Experimental Psychology, 58, 17–22.
de Groot, A. D. (1965). Thought and choice in chess. The Hague: Mouton.
de Groot, A. D. (1966). Perception and memory versus thought. In
B. Kleinmuntz (Ed.), Problem-solving (pp. 19–50). New York: Wiley.
Dehaene, S. (2000). Cerebral bases of number processing and calculation.
In M. Gazzaniga (Ed.), The new cognitive neurosciences (pp. 987–998).
Cambridge, MA: MIT Press.
De Neys, W., Vartanian, O., & Goel, V. (2008). Smarter than we think when our
brains detect that we are biased. Psychological Science, 19(5), 483–489.
Dennett, D. C. (1969). Content and consciousness. London: Routledge.
Desimone, R., Albright, T. D., Gross, C. G., & Bruce, C. (1984). Stimulus-
selective properties of inferior temporal neurons in the macaque. Neuro-
science, 4, 2051–2062.
Deutsch, J. A., & Deutsch, D. (1963). Attention: Some theoretical consider-
ations. Psychological Review, 70, 80–90.
de Valois, R. L., & Jacobs, G. H. (1968). Primate color vision. Science, 162,
533–540.
Diamond, A. (1990). The development and neural bases of memory functions
as indexed by the AB and delayed response tasks in human infants and
infant monkeys. Annals of the New York Academy of Sciences, 608(1),
267–317.
Diamond, A. (1991). Frontal lobe involvement in cognitive changes during
the first year of life. In K. R. Gibson & A. C. Petersen (Eds.), Brain
maturation and cognitive development: Comparative and cross-cultural
perspectives (pp. 127–180). New York: Aldine de Gruyter.
Diamond, A. (2013). Executive functions. Annual Review of Psychology, 64,
135–168.
Anderson_8e_Ref.indd 376 13/09/14 10:03 AM
r e f e r e n c e s / 377
Dickens, W. T., & Flynn, J. R. (2001). Heritability estimates versus large
environmental effects: The IQ paradox resolved. Psychological Review, 108,
346–369.
Dickstein, L. S. (1978). The effect of figure on syllogistic reasoning. Memory
& Cognition, 6, 76–83.
Diehl, R. L., Lotto, A. J., & Holt, L. L. (2004). Speech perception. Annual
Review of Psychology, 55, 149–179.
Dinstein, I., Heeger, D. J., Lorenzi, L., Minshew, N. J., Malach, R., et al.
(2012). Unreliable evoked responses in autism, Neuron, 75, 981–991.
Dodson, C. S., & Schacter, D. L. (2002a). Aging and strategic retrieval
processes: Reducing false memories with a distinctiveness heuristic.
Psychology and Aging, 17, 405–415.
Dodson, C. S., & Schacter, D. L. (2002b). When false recognition meets
metacognition: The distinctiveness heuristic. Journal of Memory and
Language, 46, 782–803.
Dooling, D. J., & Christiaansen, R. E. (1977). Episodic and semantic aspects
of memory for prose. Journal of Experimental Psychology: Human
Learning and Memory, 3, 428–436.
Downing, P., Liu, J., & Kanwisher, N. (2001). Testing cognitive models of
visual attention with fMRI and MEG. Neuropsychologia, 39, 1329–1342.
Dronkers, N., Redfern, B., & Knight, R. (2000). The neural architecture of
language disorders. In M. Gazzaniga (Ed.), The cognitive neurosciences
(2nd ed., pp. 949–958). Cambridge, MA: MIT Press.
Dunbar, K. (1993). Concept discovery in a scientific domain. Cognitive
Science, 17, 397–434.
Dunbar, K. (1997). How scientists think: Online creativity and conceptual
change in science. In T. B. Ward, S. M. Smith, & S. Vaid (Eds.), Conceptual
structures and processes: Emergence, discovery and change. Washington,
DC: APA Press.
Dunbar, K., & Blanchette, I. (2001). The in vivo/in vitro approach to cogni-
tion: The case of analogy. Trends in Cognitive Sciences, 5, 334–339.
Dunbar, K., & MacLeod, C. M. (1984). A horse race of a different color:
Stroop interference patterns with transformed words. Journal of Experi-
mental Psychology: Human Perception and Performance, 10, 622–639.
Duncker, K. (1945). On problem-solving. (L. S. Lees, Trans.). Psychological
Monographs, 58(Whole No. 270).
Dunning, D., & Sherman, D. A. (1997). Stereotypes and tacit inference.
Journal of Personality and Social Psychology, 73, 459–471.
Easton, R. D., & Sholl, M. J. (1995). Object-array structure, frames of refer-
ence, and retrieval of spatial knowledge. Journal of Experimental Psychol-
ogy: Learning, Memory, and Cognition, 21, 483–500.
Edwards, W. (1968). Conservatism in human information processing. In
B. Kleinmuntz (Ed.), Formal representations of human judgment
(pp. 17–52). New York: Wiley.
Egan, D. E., & Schwartz, B. J. (1979). Chunking in recall of symbolic draw-
ings. Memory & Cognition, 7, 149–158.
Egly, R., Driver, J., & Rafal, R. D. (1994). Shifting visual attention
between objects and locations: Evidence from normal and parietal
lesion subjects. Journal of Experimental Psychology: General, 123,
161–177.
Ehrlich, K., & Rayner, K. (1983). Pronoun assignment and semantic integra-
tion during reading: Eye movements and immediacy of processing.
Journal of Verbal Learning and Verbal Behavior, 22, 75–87.
Eich, E. (1985). Context, memory, and integrated item/context imagery.
Journal of Experimental Psychology: Learning, Memory, and Cognition, 11,
764–770.
Eich, E., & Metcalfe, J. (1989). Mood dependent memory for internal versus
external events. Journal of Experimental Psychology: Learning, Memory,
and Cognition, 15, 443–455.
Eich, J., Weingartner, H., Stillman, R. C., & Gillin, J. C. (1975). State-
dependent accessibility of retrieval cues in the retention of a catego-
rized list. Journal of Verbal Learning and Verbal Behavior, 14, 408–417.
Eichenbaum, H., Dudchenko, P., Wood, E., Shapiro, M., & Tanila, H.
(1999). The hippocampus, memory, and place cells: Is it spatial memory
or a memory space? Neuron, 23, 209–226.
Eimas, P. D., & Corbit, J. (1973). Selective adaptation of linguistic feature
detectors. Cognitive Psychology, 4, 99–109.
Ekstrand, B. R. (1972). To sleep, perchance to dream. In C. P. Duncan, L.
Sechrest, & A. W. Melton (Eds.), Human memory: Festschrift in honor of
Benton J. Underwood (pp. 58–82). New York: Appleton-Century Crofts.
Ekstrom, A. D., Kahana, M. J., Caplan, J. B., Fields, T. A., Isham, E. A.,
et al. (2003). Cellular networks underlying human spatial navigation.
Nature, 425, 184–188.
Elbert, T., Pantev, C., Wienbruch, C., Rockstroh, B., & Taub, E. (1995).
Increased use of the left hand in string players associated with increased
cortical representation of the fingers. Science, 270, 305–307.
Elio, R., & Anderson, J. R. (1981). The effects of category generalizations
and instance similarity on schema abstraction. Journal of Experimental
Psychology: Human Learning and Memory, 7, 397–417.
Ellis, A. W., & Young, A. W. (1988). Human cognitive neuropsychology. Hills-
dale, NJ: Erlbaum.
Elman, J. L., Bates, E., Johnson, M. H., Karmiloff-Smith, A., Parisi, D., et al.
(1996). Rethinking innateness: A connectionist perspective on development.
Cambridge, MA: MIT Press.
Enard, W., Przeworski, M., Fisher, S., Lai, C., Wiebe, V., et al. (2002).
Molecular evolution of FOXP2, a gene involved in speech and language.
Nature, 418, 869–872.
Engle, R. W., & Bukstel, L. (1978). Memory processes among bridge players
of differing expertise. American Journal of Psychology, 91, 673–689.
Epshtein, B., Lifshitz, I. & Ullman, S. (2008). Image interpretation by a single
bottom-up top-down cycle. Proceedings of the National Academy of Sci-
ences, USA, 105(38), 14298–14303.
Erickson, T. A., & Matteson, M. E. (1981). From words to meanings: A
semantic illusion. Journal of Verbal Learning and Verbal Behavior, 20,
540–552.
Ericsson, K. A., & Kintsch, W. (1995). Long-term working memory. Psycho-
logical review, 102(2), 211.
Ericsson, K. A., Krampe, R. T., & Tesch-Römer, C. (1993). The role of
deliberate practice in the acquisition of expert performance. Psychological
Review, 100, 363–406.
Ernst, G., & Newell, A. (1969). GPS: A case study in generality and problem
solving. New York: Academic Press.
Ervin-Tripp, S. M. (1974). Is second language learning like the first? TESOL
Quarterly, 8, 111–127.
Evans, J. S. B. (1993). The mental model theory of conditional reasoning:
Critical appraisal and revision. Cognition, 48(1), 1–20.
Evans, J. S. B. (2007). Hypothetical thinking: Dual processes in reasoning and
judgement (Vol. 3). Psychology Press.
Evans, J. St. B. T., Handley, S. J., & Harper, C. (2001). Necessity, possibility
and belief: A study of syllogistic reasoning. Quarterly Journal of Experi-
mental Psychology, 54A, 935–958.
Evans, J. S. B. T., & Over, D. E. (2004). If. New York: Oxford University Press.
Farah, M. J. (1990). Visual agnosia: Disorders of object recognition and what
they tell us about normal vision. Cambridge, MA: MIT Press.
Farah, M. J., Hammond, K. M., Levine, D. N., & Calvanio, R. (1988). Visual
and spatial mental imagery: Dissociable systems of representation. Cogni-
tive Psychology, 20, 439–462.
Farah, M. J., & McClelland, J. (1991). A computational model of semantic
memory impairment: Modality specificity and emergent category
specificity. Journal of Experimental Psychology: General, 120, 339–357.
Farah, M. J., Stowe, R. M., & Levinson, K. L. (1996). Phonological dyslexia:
Loss of a reading-specific component of the cognitive architecture? Cogni-
tive Neuropsychology, 13, 849–868.
Ferguson, C. J., Garza, A., Jerabeck, J., Ramos, R., & Galindo, M. (2013).
Not worth the fuss after all? Cross-sectional and prospective data on
violent video game influences on aggression, visuospatial cognition and
mathematics ability in a sample of youth. Journal of Youth and Adoles-
cence, 42(1), 109–122.
Fernandez, A., & Glenberg, A. M. (1985). Changing environmental context
does not reliably affect memory. Memory & Cognition, 13, 333–345.
Anderson_8e_Ref.indd 377 13/09/14 10:03 AM
378 / r e f e r e n c e s
Ferreira, F. (2003). The misinterpretation of noncanonical sentences. Cogni-
tive Psychology, 47(2), 164–203.
Ferreira, F., & Clifton, C. (1986). The independence of syntactic processing.
Journal of Memory and Language, 25, 348–368.
Ferreira, F., & Henderson, J. M. (1991). Recovery from misanalyses of
garden-path sentences. Journal of Memory and Language, 25, 725–745.
Ferreira, F., & Patson, N. (2007). The good enough approach to language
comprehension. Language and Linguistics Compass, 1, 71–83.
Fincham, J. M., Carter, C. S., van Veen, V., Stenger, V. A., & Anderson, J. R.
(2002). Neural mechanisms of planning: A computational analysis using
event-related fMRI. Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences, USA,
99, 3346–3351.
Fink, G. R., Halligan, P. H., Marshall, J. C., Frith, C. D., Frackowiack, R. S.
J., et al. (1996). Where in the brain does visual attention select the forest
and the trees? Nature, 382, 626–628.
Fink, A., & Neubauer, A. C. (2005). Individual differences in time estimation
related to cognitive ability, speed of information processing and working
memory. Intelligence, 33, 5–26.
Finke, R. A., Pinker, S., & Farah, M. J. (1989). Reinterpreting visual patterns
in mental imagery. Cognitive Science, 13, 51–78.
Fischer, K. W. (1980). A theory of cognitive development: The control and
construction of hierarchies of skills. Psychological Review, 87, 477–531.
Fischhoff, B. (2008). Assessing adolescent decision-making competence.
Developmental Review, 28, 12–28.
Fischhoff, B., & Beyth-Marom, R. (1983). Hypothesis evaluation from a
Bayesian perspective. Psychological Review, 90, 239–260.
Fitts, P. M., & Posner, M. I. (1967). Human performance. Belmont, CA:
Brooks Cole.
Flavell, J. H. (1978). Comment. In R. S. Siegler (Ed.), Children’s thinking: What
develops? (pp. 97–105). Hillsdale, NJ: Erlbaum.
Flavell, J. H. (1985). Cognitive development. Englewood Cliffs, NJ: Prentice-Hall.
Flege, J., Yeni-Komshian, G., & Liu, S. (1999). Age constraints on second
language learning. Journal of Memory and Language, 41, 78–104.
Flynn, J. R. (2007). What is intelligence?: Beyond the Flynn effect. Cambridge
University Press.
Fodor, J. A. (1983). The modularity of mind. Cambridge, MA: MIT Press/
Bradford Books.
Foo, P., Warren, W. H., Duchon, A., & Tarr, M. J. (2005). Do humans inte-
grate routes into a cognitive map? Map-versus landmark-based navigation
of novel shortcuts. Journal of Experimental Psychology: Learning, Memory,
and Cognition, 31(2), 195.
Forward, S., & Buck, C. (1988). Betrayal of innocence: Incest and its devasta-
tion. New York: Penguin Books.
Frase, L. T. (1975). Prose processing. In G. H. Bower (Ed.), The psychology of
learning and motivation (Vol. 9, pp. 1–47). New York: Academic Press.
Friedman-Hill, S., Robertson, L. C., & Treisman, A. (1995). Parietal contri-
butions to visual feature binding: Evidence from a patient with bilateral
lesions. Science, 269, 853–855.
Frisch, S., Schlesewsky, M., Saddy, D., & Alpermann, A. (2002). The P600 as
an indicator of syntactic ambiguity. Cognition, 85, B83–B92.
Fromkin, V. (1971). The non-anomalous nature of anomalous utterances.
Languages, 47, 27–52.
Fromkin, V. (1973). Speech errors as linguistic evidence. The Hague: Mouton.
Fugelsang, J., & Dunbar, K. (2005). Brain-based mechanisms underlying
complex causal thinking. Neuropsychologia, 43, 1204–1213.
Funahashi, S., Bruce, C. J., & Goldman-Rakic, P. S. (1991). Neural activity
related to saccadic eye movements in the monkey’s dorsolateral prefrontal
cortex. Journal of Neurophysiology, 65, 1464–1483.
Funahashi, S., Bruce, C. J., & Goldman-Rakic, P. S. (1993). Dorsolateral
prefrontal lesions and oculomotor delayed-response performance:
Evidence for mnemonic “scotomas.” Journal of Neuroscience, 13,
1479–1497.
Fuster, J. M. (1989). The prefrontal cortex: Anatomy, physiology, and neuropsy-
chology of the frontal lobe. New York: Raven Press.
Gabrieli, J. D. E. (2001). Functional neuroimaging of episodic memory. In
R. Cabeza & A. Lingstone (Eds.), Handbook of functional neuroimaging of
cognition (pp. 253–292). Cambridge, MA: MIT Press.
Gardner, H. (1975). The shattered mind: The person after brain damage. New
York: Knopf.
Gardner, R. A., & Gardner, B. T. (1969). Teaching sign language to a chim-
panzee. Science, 165, 664–672.
Garrett, M. F. (1975). The analysis of sentence production. In G. H. Bower
(Ed.), The psychology of learning and motivation (Vol. 9, pp. 133–177).
New York: Academic Press.
Garrett, M. F. (1980). Levels of processing in sentence production. In
B. Butterworth (Ed.), Language production (Vol. 1, pp. 177–220). London:
Academic Press.
Garrett, M. F. (1990). Sentence processing. In D. N. Osherson & H. Lasnik
(Eds.), Language: An invitation to cognition science (Vol. 1, pp. 133–175).
Cambridge, MA: MIT Press.
Garro, L. (1986). Language, memory, and focality: A reexamination. American
Anthropologist, 88, 128–136.
Gauthier, I., Skudlarski, P., Gore, J. C., & Anderson, A. W. (2000). Expertise
for cars and birds recruits brain areas involved in face recognition. Nature
Neuroscience, 3, 191–197.
Gauthier, I., Tarr, M. J., Anderson, A. W., Skudlarski, P., & Gore, J. C. (1999).
Activation of the middle fusiform “face area” increases with expertise in
recognizing novel objects. Nature Neuroscience, 2, 568–573.
Gazzaniga, M. S., Ivry, R. B., & Mangun, G. R. (1998). Cognitive neuroscience:
The biology of the mind. New York: W. W. Norton.
Gazzaniga, M. S., Ivry, R. B., & Mangun, G. R. (2002). Cognitive neuroscience:
The biology of the mind (2nd ed.). New York: W. W. Norton.
Geary, D. C. (2007). An evolutionary perspective on learning disability in
mathematics. Developmental Neuropsychology, 32(1), 471–519.
Gee, J. P., & Grosjean, F. (1983). Performance structures: A psycholinguistic
and linguistic appraisal. Cognitive Psychology, 15, 411–458.
Geiselman, E. R., Fisher, R. P., MacKinnon, D. P., & Holland, H. L. (1985).
Eyewitness memory enhancement in the police interview: Cognitive
retrieval mnemonics versus hypnosis. Journal of Applied Psychology, 70,
401–412.
Geison, G. L. (1995). The private science of Louis Pasteur. Princeton, NJ:
Princeton University Press.
Gelman, S. A. (1988). The development of induction within natural kind and
artifact categories. Cognitive Psychology, 20, 65–95.
Gentner, D. (1983). Structure-mapping: A theoretical framework for analogy.
Cognitive Science, 7, 155–170.
Georgopoulos, A. P., Lurito, J. T., Petrides, M., Schwartz, A. B.,
& Massey, J. T. (1989). Mental rotation of the neuronal population vector.
Science, 243, 234–236.
Geschwind, N. (1980). Neurological knowledge and complex behaviors.
Cognitive Science, 4, 185–194.
Gibson, E. J. (1969). Principles of learning and development. New York:
Meredith.
Gibson, J. J. (1950). Perception of the visual world. Boston: Houghton Mifflin.
Gick, M. L., & Holyoak, K. J. (1980). Analogical problem solving. Cognitive
Psychology, 12, 306–355.
Gigerenzer, G., & Hoffrage, U. (1995). How to improve Bayesian reasoning
without instruction: Frequency formats. Psychological Review, 102,
684–704.
Gigerenzer, G., & Hug, K. (1992). Domain-specific reasoning: Social
contracts, cheating, and perspective change. Cognition, 43, 127–171.
Gigerenzer, G., Swijtink, Z., Porter, T., Daston, L., Beatty, J., et al. (1989).
The empire of chance: How probability changed science and everyday life.
Cambridge, England: Cambridge University Press.
Gigerenzer, G., Todd, P. M., & ABC Research Group. (1999). Simple
heuristics that make us smart. New York: Oxford University Press.
Gilbert, S. J., Spengler, S., Simons, J. S., Frith, C. D., & Burgess, P. W.
(2006). Differential functions of lateral and medial rostral prefrontal
Anderson_8e_Ref.indd 378 13/09/14 10:03 AM
r e f e r e n c e s / 379
cortex (area 10) revealed by brain-behaviour correlations. Cerebral Cortex,
16, 1783–1789.
Ginsburg, H. J., & Opper, S. (1980). Piaget’s theory of intellectual development.
Englewood Cliffs, NJ: Prentice-Hall.
Gleitman, L. R., Newport, E. L., & Gleitman, H. (1984). The current status of
the motherese hypothesis. Journal of Child Language, 11, 43–80.
Glenberg, A. M. (2007). Language and action: Creating sensible combinations
of ideas. In G. Gaskell (Ed.), The Oxford handbook of psycholinguistics
(pp. 361–370). Oxford, UK: Oxford University Press.
Glenberg, A. M., Smith, S. M., & Green, C. (1977). Type I rehearsal: Main-
tenance and more. Journal of Verbal Learning and Verbal Behavior, 16,
339–352.
Gluck, M. A., & Bower, G. H. (1988). From conditioning to category learning:
An adaptive network model. Journal of Experimental Psychology: General,
117, 227–247.
Gluck, M. A., Mercado, E., & Myers, C. E. (2008). Learning and memory:
From brain to behavior. New York: Worth.
Glucksberg, S., & Cowan, G. N., Jr. (1970). Memory for nonattended audi-
tory material. Cognitive Psychology, 1, 149–156.
Glucksberg, S., & Weisberg, R. W. (1966). Verbal behavior and problem
solving: Some effects of labeling in a functional fixedness problem. Journal
of Experimental Psychology, 71, 659–666.
Godden, D. R., & Baddeley, A. D. (1975). Context-dependent memory in
two natural environments: On land and under water. British Journal of
Psychology, 66, 325–331.
Goel, V., Buchel, C., Frith, C., & Dolan, R. (2000). Dissociation of mecha-
nisms underlying syllogistic reasoning. Neuroimage, 12, 504–514.
Goel, V., & Grafman, J. (1995). Are the frontal lobes implicated in “planning”
functions? Interpreting data from the Tower of Hanoi. Neuropsychologica,
33, 623–642.
Goel, V., & Grafman, J. (2000). The role of the right prefrontal cortex
in ill-structured problem solving. Cognitive Neuropsychology, 17,
415–436.
Goldberg, R. A., Schwartz, S., & Stewart, M. (1977). Individual differences in
cognitive processes. Journal of Educational Psychology, 69, 9–14.
Goldin-Meadow, S. (2003). The resilience of language: What gesture creation in
deaf children can tell us about how all children learn language. New York:
Psychology Press.
Goldman-Rakic, P. S. (1987). Circuitry of primate prefrontal cortex and regu-
lation of behavior by representational memory. In Handbook of physiology.
The nervous system: Vol. 5. Higher functions of the brain (pp. 373–417).
Bethesda, MD: American Physiology Society.
Goldman-Rakic, P. S. (1988). Topography of cognition: Parallel distributed
networks in primate association cortex. Annual Review of Neuroscience,
11, 137–156.
Goldman-Rakic, P. S. (1992). Working memory and mind. Scientific American,
267, 111–117.
Goldstein, A.G. & Chance, J. E. (1970). Visual recognition memory for com-
plex configurations. Perception and Psychophysics, 9, 237–241.
Goldstein, D. G., & Gigerenzer, G. (1999). The recognition heuristic: How
ignorance makes us smart. In G. Gigerenzer, P. M. Todd, & ABC Research
Group (Eds.), Simple heuristics that make us smart (pp. 37–58). New York:
Oxford University Press.
Goldstein, D. G., & Gigerenzer, G. (2002). Models of ecological rationality:
The recognition heuristic. Psychological Review, 109, 75–90.
Goldstein, M. N. (1974). Auditory agnosia for speech (“pure word deafness”):
A historical review with current implications. Brain and Language, 1,
195–204.
Goldstone, R. L., & Hendrickson, A. T. (2010). Categorical perception.
Interdisciplinary Reviews: Cognitive Science, 1, 65–78.
Goodale, M. A., Milner, A. D., Jakobson, L. S., & Carey, D. P. (1991). A
neurological dissociation between perceiving objects and grasping them.
Nature, 349, 154–156.
Gould, E., & Gross, C. G. (2002). Neurogenesis in adult mammals: Some
progress and problems. Journal of Neuroscience, 22, 619–623.
Gould, S. J. (1977). Ontogeny and phylogeny. Cambridge, MA: Belknap.
Graesser, A. C., Singer, M., & Trabasso, T. (1994). Constructing inferences
during narrative text comprehension. Psychological Review, 101, 371–395.
Graf, P., Squire, L. R., & Mandler, G. (1984). The information that amnesic
patients do not forget. Journal of Experimental Psychology: Learning,
Memory, and Cognition, 10, 164–178.
Graf, P., & Torrey, J. W. (1966). Perception of phrase structure in written
language. American Psychological Association Convention Proceedings,
83–88.
Granrud, C. E. (1986). Binocular vision and spatial perception in 4- and
5-month-old infants. Journal of Experimental Psychology: Human Percep-
tion and Performance, 12, 36–49.
Granrud, C. E. (1987). Visual size constancy in newborn infants. Investigative
Ophthalmology & Visual Science, 28(Suppl. 5).
Gray, J. A., & Wedderburn, A. A. I. (1960). Grouping strategies with simulta-
neous stimuli. Quarterly Journal of Experimental Psychology, 12, 180–184.
Green, C. S., & Bavelier, D. (2006). Enumeration versus multiple object
tracking: The case of action video game players. Cognition, 101(1),
217–245.
Greenberg, J. H. (1963). Some universals of grammar with particular refer-
ence to the order of meaningful elements. In J. H. Greenberg (Ed.),
Universals of language (pp. 73–113). Cambridge, MA: MIT Press.
Greene, J. D., Sommerville, R. B., Nystrom, L. E., Darley, J. M., & Cohen, J.
D. (2001). An fMRI investigation of emotional engagement in moral judg-
ment. Science, 293, 2105–2108.
Greeno, J. G. (1974). Hobbits and orcs: Acquisition of a sequential concept.
Cognitive Psychology, 6, 270–292.
Griggs, R. A., & Cox, J. R. (1982). The elusive thematic-materials effect in
Wason’s selection task. British Journal of Psychology, 73, 407–420.
Gron, G., Wunderlich, A. P., Spitzer, M., Tomczak, R., & Riepe, M. W. (2000).
Brain activation during human navigation: Gender different neural net-
works as substrate of performance. Nature Neuroscience, 3, 404–408.
Grosjean, F., Grosjean, L., & Lane, H. (1979). The patterns of silence: Perfor-
mance structures in sentence production. Cognitive Psychology, 11, 58–81.
Gross, C. G. (2000). Neurogenesis in the adult brain: Death of a dogma.
Nature Review, 1, 67–73.
Gugerty, L., deBoom, D., Jenkins, J. C., & Morley, R. (2000). Keeping north
in mind: How navigators reason about cardinal directions. In Proceedings
of the Human Factors and Ergonomics Society 2000 Congress (pp. I148–
I151). Santa Monica, CA: Human Factors and Ergonomics Society.
Guilford, J. P. (1956). The structure of intellect. Psychological Bulletin, 53(4),
267.
Guilford, J. P. (1982). Cognitive psychology’s ambiguities: Some suggested
remedies. Psychological Review, 89, 48–59.
Gunzelmann, G., & Anderson, J. R. (2002). Strategic differences in the coor-
dination of different views of space. In W. D. Gray & C. D. Schunn (Eds.),
Proceedings of the Twenty-Fourth Annual Conference of the Cognitive
Science Society (pp. 387–392). Mahwah, NJ: Erlbaum.
Guskey, T. R., & Gates, S. (1986). Synthesis of research on the effects of
mastery learning in elementary and secondary classrooms. Educational
Leadership, 43, 73–80.
Haesler, S., Rochefort, C., Georgi, B., Licznerski, P., Osten, P., et al. (2007).
Incomplete and inaccurate vocal imitation after knockdown of FoxP2 in
songbird basal ganglia nucleus area X. PLoS Biology, 5, 2885–2897.
Haier, R. J., Siegel, B. V., Jr., Nuechterlein, K. H., Hazlett, E., Wu, J. C.,
et al. (1988). Cortical glucose metabolic rate correlates of abstract
reasoning and attention studied with positron emission tomography.
Intelligence, 12, 199–217.
Hakes, D. T. (1972). Effects of reducing complement constructions on
sentence comprehension. Journal of Verbal Learning and Verbal Behavior,
11, 278–286.
Hakes, D. T., & Foss, D. J. (1970). Decision processes during sentence
comprehension: Effects of surface structure reconsidered. Perception and
Psychophysics, 8, 413–416.
Halford, G. S. (1982). The development of thought. Hillsdale, NJ: Erlbaum.
Anderson_8e_Ref.indd 379 13/09/14 10:03 AM
380 / r e f e r e n c e s
Halford, G. S. (1992). Analogical reasoning and conceptual complexity in
cognitive development. Human Development, 35, 193–217.
Hammerton, M. (1973). A case of radical probability estimation. Journal of
Experimental Psychology, 101, 252–254.
Harlow, J. M. (1868). Recovery from a passage of an iron bar through the
head. Publications of the Massachusetts Medical Society, 2, 327–347.
Harris, R. J. (1977). Comprehension of pragmatic implications in advertising.
Journal of Applied Psychology, 62, 603–608.
Hart, R. A., & Moore, G. I. (1973). The development of spatial cognition: A
review. In R. M. Downs & D. Stea (Eds.). Image and environment
(pp. 246–288). Chicago: Aldine.
Hartley, T., Maguire, E. A., Spiers, H. J., & Burgess, N. (2003). The well-
worn route and the path less traveled: Distinct neural bases of route
following and wayfinding in humans. Neuron, 37, 877–888.
Hauk, O., Johnsrude, I., & Pulvermuller, F. (2004). Somatotopic representation
of action words in human motor and premotor cortex. Neuron, 41, 301–307.
Haviland, S. E., & Clark, H. H. (1974). What’s new? Acquiring new informa-
tion as a process in comprehension. Journal of Verbal Learning and Verbal
Behavior, 13, 512–521.
Haxby, J. V., Ungerleider, L. G., Clark, V. P., Schouten, J. L., Hoffman, E.
A., et al. (1999). The effect of face inversion on activity in human neural
systems for face and object perception. Neuron, 22, 189–199.
Hayes, C. (1951). The ape in our house. New York: Harper.
Hayes, J. R. (1984). Problem solving techniques. Philadelphia: Franklin Insti-
tute Press.
Hayes, J. R. (1985). Three problems in teaching general skills. In J. Segal,
S. Chipman, & R. Glaser (Eds.), Thinking and learning (Vol. 2,
pp. 391–406). Hillsdale, NJ: Erlbaum.
Hayes-Roth, B., & Hayes-Roth, F. (1977). Concept learning and the recogni-
tion and classification of exemplars. Journal of Verbal Learning and Verbal
Behavior, 16, 321–338.
Haygood, R. C., & Bourne, L. E. (1965). Attribute and rule-learning aspects
of conceptual behavior. Psychological Review, 72, 175–195.
Heath, S. B. (1983). Ways with words: Language, life and work in communities
and classrooms. New York: Cambridge University Press.
Heider, E. (1972). Universals of color naming and memory. Journal of Experi-
mental Psychology, 93, 10–20.
Henkel, L. A., Johnson, M. K., & DeLeonardis, D. M. (1998). Aging and
source monitoring: Cognitive processes and neuropsychological corre-
lates. Journal of Experimental Psychology: General, 127, 251–268.
Henson, R. N., Burgess, N., & Frith, C. D. (2000). Recoding, storage,
rehearsal and grouping in verbal short-term memory: An fMRI study.
Neuropsychologia, 38, 426–440.
Hilgard, E. R. (1968). The experience of hypnosis. New York: Harcourt Brace
Jovanovich.
Hinton, G. E. (1979). Some demonstrations of the effects of structural
descriptions in mental imagery. Cognitive Science, 3, 231–250.
Hintzman, D. L., O’Dell, C. S., & Arndt, D. R. (1981). Orientation in cogni-
tive maps. Cognitive Psychology, 13, 149–206.
Hirshman, E., Passannante, A., & Arndt, J. (2001). Midazolam amnesia
and conceptual processing in implicit memory. Journal of Experimental
Psychology: General, 130, 453–465.
Hirst, W., Phelps, E. A., Buckner, R. L., Budson, A. E., Cuc, A., Gabrieli, J.
D., et al. (2009). Long-term memory for the terrorist attack of September
11: Flashbulb memories, event memories, and the factors that influence
their retention. Journal of experimental psychology. General, 138(2), 161.
Hockett, C. F. (1960). The origin of speech. Scientific American, 203, 89–96.
Hockey, G. R. J., Davies, S., & Gray, M. M. (1972). Forgetting as a function of
sleep at different times of day. Experimental Psychology, 24, 386–393.
Hoffman, D. D., & Richards, W. (1985). Parts of recognition. Cognition, 18,
65–96.
Hoffman, M., Gneezy, U., & List, J. A. (2011). Nurture affects gender differ-
ences in spatial abilities. Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences,
USA, 108(36), 14786–14788.
Holding, D. H. (1992). Theories of chess skill. Psychological Research, 54, 10–16.
Holmes, J. B., Waters, H. S., & Rajaram, S. (1998). The phenomenology of
false memories: Episodic content and confidence. Journal of Experimental
Psychology: Learning, Memory, and Cognition, 24, 1026–1040.
Holroyd, C. B., & Coles, M. G. (2002). The neural basis of human error
processing: reinforcement learning, dopamine, and the error-related
negativity. Psychological Review, 109(4), 679.
Horn, J. L. (1968). Organization of abilities and the development of intelligence.
Psychological Review, 75, 242–259.
Horn, J. L., & Stankov, L. (1982). Auditory and visual intelligence. Intel-
ligence, 6, 165–185.
Horton, J. C. (1984). Cytochrome oxidase patches: A new cytoarchitectonic
feature of monkey visual cortex. Philosophical Transactions of the Royal
Society of London, 304, 199–253.
Hsu, F.-H. (2002). Behind Deep Blue. Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press.
Hubel, D. H., & Wiesel, T. N. (1962). Receptive fields, binocular interaction,
and functional architecture in the cat’s visual cortex. Journal of Physiology,
166, 106–154.
Hubel, D. H., & Wiesel, T. N. (1977). Functional architecture of macaque
monkey visual cortex. Philosophical Transactions of the Royal Society of
London, 198, 1–59.
Huddleston, E., & Anderson, M. C. (2012). Reassessing critiques of
the independent probe method for studying inhibition. Journal of
Experimental Psychology: Learning, Memory, and Cognition, 38,
1408–1418.
Hunt, E. B. (1985). Verbal ability. In R. J. Sternberg (Ed.), Human abilities:
An information-processing approach (pp. 144–162). New York: W. H.
Freeman.
Hunt, E. B., Davidson, J., & Lansman, M. (1981). Individual differences in
long-term memory access. Memory & Cognition, 9, 599–608.
Hunter, J. E., & Hunter, R. F. (1984). Validity and utility of alternative predic-
tors of job performance. Psychological Bulletin, 96, 72–98.
Huttenlocher, P. R. (1994). Synaptogenesis in human cerebral cortex. In
G. Dawson & K. W. Fischer (Eds.), Human behavior and the developing
brain (pp. 137–152). New York: Guilford Press.
Hyams, N. M. (1986). Language acquisition and the theory of parameters.
Dordrecht: D. Reidel.
Hyde, T. S., & Jenkins, J. J. (1973). Recall for words as a function of semantic,
graphic, and syntactic orienting tasks. Journal of Verbal Learning and
Verbal Behavior, 12, 471–480.
Iacoboni, M., Woods, R. P., Brass, M., Bekkering, H., Mazziotta, J. C.,
et al. (1999). Cortical mechanisms of human imitation. Science, 286,
2526–2528.
Ifrah G. (2000). The universal history of numbers: From prehistory to the inven-
tion of the computer. New York: Wiley.
Impedovo, S. (2013). More than twenty years of advancements on Frontiers in
Handwriting Recognition. Pattern Recognition, 47(3), 916–928.
Ishai, A., Ungerleider, L. G., Martin, A., Maisog, J. M., & Haxby, J. V. (1997).
fMRI reveals differential activation in the ventral object vision pathway
during the perception of faces, houses, and chairs. Neuroimage, 5, S149.
Jacobsen, C. F. (1935). Functions of frontal association areas in primates.
Archives of Neurology & Psychiatry, 33, 558–560.
Jacobsen, C. F. (1936). Studies of cerebral functions in primates. I. The func-
tion of the frontal association areas in monkeys. Comparative Psychology
Monographs, 13, 1–60.
Jacoby, L. L. (1983). Remembering the data: Analyzing interactive processes
in reading. Journal of Verbal Learning and Verbal Behavior, 22, 485–508.
Jacoby, L. L., & Witherspoon, D. (1982). Remembering without awareness.
Canadian Journal of Psychology, 36, 300–324.
Jaeger, J. J., Lockwood, A. H., Kemmerer, D. L., Van Valin, R. D., Jr.,
Murphy, B. W., et al. (1996). A positron emission tomographic study of
regular and irregular verb morphology in English. Language, 72, 451–497.
Jaeggi, S. M., Buschkuehl, M., Jonides, J., & Perrig, W. J. (2008). Improving
fluid intelligence with training on working memory. Proceedings of the
National Academy of Sciences, USA, 105(19), 6829–6833.
Anderson_8e_Ref.indd 380 13/09/14 10:03 AM
r e f e r e n c e s / 381
James, W. (1890). The principles of psychology (Vols. 1 and 2). New York: Holt.
Janer, K. W., & Pardo, J. V. (1991). Deficits in selective attention following
bilateral anterior cingulotomy. Journal of Cognitive Neuroscience, 3, 231–241.
Jarvella, R. J. (1971). Syntactic processing of connected speech. Journal of
Verbal Learning and Verbal Behavior, 10, 409–416.
Jeffries, R. P., Polson, P. G., Razran, L., & Atwood, M. E. (1977). A process
model for missionaries: Cannibals and other river-crossing problems.
Cognitive Psychology, 9, 412–440.
Jeffries, R. P., Turner, A. A., Polson, P. G., & Atwood, M. E. (1981). The
processes involved in designing software. In J. R. Anderson (Ed.), Cogni-
tive skills and their acquisition (pp. 225–283). Hillsdale, NJ: Erlbaum.
Jenkins, I. H., Brooks, D. J., Nixon, P. D., Frackowiak, R. S. J., &
Passingham, R. E. (1994). Motor sequence learning: A study with posi-
tron emission tomography. Journal of Neuroscience, 14, 3775–3790.
John, B. E., Patton, E. W., Gray, W. D., & Morrison, D. F. (2012, September).
Tools for predicting the duration and variability of skilled performance
without skilled performers. In Proceedings of the Human Factors and
Ergonomics Society Annual Meeting (Vol. 56, No. 1, pp. 985–989). SAGE
Publications.
Johnson, D. M. (1939). Confidence and speed in the two-category judgment.
Archives of Psychology, 241, 1–52.
Johnson, J. D., McDuff, S. G., Rugg, M. D., & Norman, K. A. (2009).
Recollection, familiarity, and cortical reinstatement: a multivoxel pattern
analysis. Neuron, 63(5), 697–708.
Johnson, J. S., & Newport, E. L. (1989). Critical period effects in second
language learning: The influence of maturational state on the acquisition
of English as a second language. Cognitive Psychology, 21, 60–99.
Johnson-Laird, P. N. (1983). Mental models. Cambridge, MA: Harvard
University Press.
Johnson-Laird, P. N. (1995). Mental models, deductive reasoning, and the
brain. In M. S. Gazzaniga (Ed.), The cognitive neurosciences
(pp. 999–1008). Cambridge, MA; MIT Press.
Johnson-Laird, P. N. (2003). Personal communication.
Johnson-Laird, P. N., & Goldvarg, Y. (1997). How to make the impossible
seem possible. Proceedings of the Nineteenth Annual Conference of the
Cognitive Science Society, 354–357.
Johnson-Laird, P. N., & Steedman, M. (1978). The psychology of syllogisms.
Cognitive Psychology, 10, 64–99.
Johnston, W. A., & Heinz, S. P. (1978). Flexibility and capacity demands of
attention. Journal of Experimental Psychology: General, 107, 420–435.
Jones, L., Rothbart, M. K., & Posner, M. I. (2003). Development of inhibitory
control in preschool children. Developmental Science, 6, 498–504.
Jonides, J., Schumacher, E. H., Smith, E. E., Koeppe, R. A., Awh, E., et al.
(1998). The role of parietal cortex in verbal working memory. Journal of
Neuroscience, 18, 5026–5034.
Jung-Beeman, M., Bowden, E. M., Haberman, J., Frymiare, J. L.,
Arambel-Liu, S., et al. (2004). Neural activity when people solve verbal
problems with insight. Public Library of Science Biology, 2, 500–510.
Just, M. A., & Carpenter, P. A. (1980). A theory of reading: From eye fixations
to comprehension. Psychological Review, 87, 329–354.
Just, M. A., & Carpenter, P. A. (1985). Cognitive coordinate systems:
Accounts of mental rotation and individual differences in spatial ability.
Psychological Review, 92, 137–172.
Just, M. A., & Carpenter, P. A. (1987). The psychology of reading and language
comprehension. Boston: Allyn & Bacon.
Just, M. A., & Carpenter, P. A. (1992). A capacity theory of comprehension:
Individual differences in working memory. Psychological Review, 99,
122–149.
Just, M. A., Cherkassky, V. L., Aryal, S., & Mitchell, T. M. (2010). A neuro-
semantic theory of concrete noun representation based on the underlying
brain codes. PloS one, 5(1), e8622.
Just, M. A., Keller, T. A., & Kana, R. K. (2013). A theory of autism based
on frontal-posterior underconnectivity. In M. A. Just & K. A. Pelphrey
(Eds.), Development and brain systems in autism (pp. 35–63). New York:
Psychology Press.
Kahn, I., & Wagner, A. D. (2002). Diminished medial temporal lobe activa-
tion with expanding retrieval practice. Journal of Cognitive Neuroscience,
D71 (Suppl., Cognitive Neuroscience Society Ninth Annual Meeting).
Kahneman, D. (2011). Thinking, fast and slow. Macmillan.
Kahneman, D., & Tversky, A. (1973). On the psychology of prediction.
Psychological review, 80(4), 237.
Kahneman, D., & Tversky, A. (1979). Prospect theory: An analysis of deci-
sions under risk. Econometrica, 97, 263–291.
Kahneman, D., & Tversky, A. (1984). Choices, values, and frames. American
Psychologist, 80, 341–350.
Kahneman, D., & Tversky, A. (1996). On the reality of cognitive illusions.
Psychological Review, 103, 582–591.
Kail, R. (1988). Developmental functions for speeds of cognitive processes.
Journal of Experimental Child Psychology, 45, 339–364.
Kail, R., & Park, Y. (1990). Impact of practice on speed of mental rotation.
Journal of Experimental Child Psychology, 49, 227–244.
Kamin, L. J. (1974). The science and politics of IQ. Potomac, MD: Erlbaum.
Kandel, E. R., & Schwartz, J. H. (1984). Principles of neural science (2nd ed.).
New York: Elsevier.
Kandel, E. R., Schwartz, J. H., & Jessell, T. M. (1991). Principles of neural
science (3rd ed.). New York: Elsevier.
Kanwisher, N., McDermott, J., & Chun, M. M. (1997). The fusiform face
area: A module in human extra-striate cortex specialized for face percep-
tion. Journal of Neuroscience, 17, 4302–4311.
Kanwisher, N. J., Tong, F, & Nakayama, K. (1998). The effect of face inversion
on the human fusiform face area. Cognition, 68, B1–B11.
Kanwisher, N. J., & Wojciulik, E. (2000). Visual attention: Insights from brain
imaging. Nature Review Neuroscience, 1, 91–100.
Kaplan, C. A. (1989). Hatching a theory of incubation: Does putting a
problem aside really help? If so, why? Unpublished doctoral dissertation,
Carnegie Mellon University, Pittsburgh, PA.
Kaplan, C. A., & Simon, H. A. (1990). In search of insight. Cognitive
Psychology, 22, 374–419.
Kapur, S., Craik, F. I. M., Tulving, E., Wilson, A. A., Houle, S., et al. (1994).
Neuroanatomical correlates of encoding in episodic memory: Levels of
processing effect. Proceedings of National Academy of Sciences, USA, 91,
2008–2011.
Karpicke, J. D., Butler, A. C., & Roediger, H. L. (2009). Metacognitive strate-
gies in student learning: Do students practice retrieval when they study on
their own? Memory, 17, 471–479.
Kastner, S., DeWeerd, P., Desimone, R., & Ungerleider, L. G. (1998). Mecha-
nisms of directed attention in ventral extrastriate cortex as revealed by
functional MRI. Science, 282, 108–111.
Katz, B. (1952). The nerve impulse. Scientific American, 187, 55–64.
Kay, P., & Regier, T. (2006). Language, thought, and color. Recent develop-
ments. Trends in Cognitive Sciences, 10, 51–54.
Keenan, J. M., Baillet, S. D., & Brown, P. (1984). The effects of causal cohe-
sion on comprehension and memory. Journal of Verbal Learning and
Verbal Behavior, 23, 115–126.
Keeney, T. J., Cannizzo, S. R., & Flavell, J. H. (1967). Spontaneous and
induced verbal rehearsal in a recall task. Child Development, 38,
953–966.
Keeton, W. T. (1980). Biological science. New York: W. W. Norton.
Kellogg, W. N., & Kellogg, L. A. (1933). The ape and the child. New York:
McGraw-Hill.
Kemp, C., & Regier, T. (2012). Kinship categories across languages reflect
general communicative principles. Science, 336(6084), 1049–1054.
Keppel, G. (1968). Retroactive and proactive inhibition. In T. R. Dixon & D. L.
Horton (Eds.), Verbal behavior and general behavior theory (pp. 172–213).
Englewood Cliffs, NJ: Prentice-Hall.
Kershaw, T. C., & Ohlsson, S. (2001). Training for insight: The case of the
nine-dot problem. In J. D. Moore & K. Stenning (Eds.), Proceedings of the
Twenty-Third Annual Conference of the Cognitive Science Society
(pp. 489–493). Mahwah, NJ: Erlbaum.
Anderson_8e_Ref.indd 381 13/09/14 10:03 AM
382 / r e f e r e n c e s
Kiesel, A., Steinhauser, M., Wendt, M., Falkenstein, M., Jost, K.,
et al. (2010). Control and interference in task switching—A review.
Psychological Bulletin, 136, 849–874.
Kinney, G. C., Marsetta, M., & Showman, D. J. (1966). Studies in display
symbol legibility. Part XXI. The legibility of alphanumeric symbols for digi-
tized television (ESD-TR-66–117). Bedford, MA: The Mitre Corporation.
Kintsch, W. (1974). The representation of meaning in memory. Hillsdale, NJ:
Erlbaum.
Kintsch, W. (1998). Comprehension: A paradigm for cognition. Cambridge,
England: Cambridge University Press.
Kintsch, W. (2013). Discourse comprehension. Control of Human Behavior,
Mental Processes, and Consciousness: Essays in Honor of the 60th Birthday
of August Flammer, 125.
Kintsch, W., Welsch, D. M., Schmalhofer, F., & Zimny, S. (1990). Sentence
memory: A theoretical analysis. Journal of Memory and Language, 29,
133–159.
Kirsh, D., & Maglio, P. (1994). On distinguishing epistemic from pragmatic
action. Cognitive Science, 18, 513–549.
Klahr, D., & Dunbar, K. (1988). Dual space search during scientific
reasoning. Cognitive Science, 12, 1–4.
Klatzky, R. L. (1975). Human memory. New York: W. H. Freeman.
Klatzky, Roberta L. (2009). Giving psychological science away: The role of
applications courses. Perspectives on Psychological Science, 4, 522–530.
Klayman, J., & Ha, Y.-W. (1987). Confirmation, disconfirmation, and infor-
mation in hypothesis testing. Psychological Review, 94, 211–228.
Knutson, B., Taylor, J., Kaufman, M., Peterson, R., & Glover, G. (2005).
Distributed neural representation of expected value. Journal of Neurosci-
ence, 25, 4806–4812.
Koedinger, K. R., & Corbett, A. T. (2006). Cognitive tutors: Technology bringing
learning science to the classroom. In R. K. Sawyer (Ed.), Handbook of the
learning sciences (pp. 61–78). New York: Cambridge University Press.
Koestler, A. (1964). The action of creation. London: Hutchinson.
Köhler, W. (1927). The mentality of apes. New York: Harcourt Brace.
Köhler, W. (1956). The mentality of apes. London: Routledge & Kegan Paul.
Kolb, B., & Wishaw, I. Q. (1996). Fundamentals of human neuropsychology
(4th ed.). New York: W. H. Freeman.
Kolers, P. A. (1976). Reading a year later. Journal of Experimental Psychology:
Human Learning and Memory, 2, 554–565.
Kolers, P. A. (1979). A pattern analyzing basis of recognition. In L. S. Cermak
& F. I. M. Craik (Eds.), Levels of processing in human memory (pp. 363–
384). Hillsdale, NJ: Erlbaum.
Kolers, P. A., & Perkins, P. N. (1975). Spatial and ordinal components of form
perception and literacy. Cognitive Psychology, 7, 228–267.
Körkel, J. (1987). Die Entwicklung von Gedächtnis- und Metagedächtnisleis-
tungen in Abhängigkeit von bereichsspezifischen Vorkenntnissen. Frankfurt:
Lang.
Kosslyn, S. M., Alpert, N. M., Thompson, W. I., Maljkovic, V., Weise, S. B.,
et al. (1993). Visual mental imagery activates topographically organized
visual cortex: PET investigation. Journal of Cognitive Neuroscience, 5,
263–287.
Kosslyn, S. M., DiGirolamo, G., Thompson, W. L., & Alpert, N. M.
(1998). Mental rotation of objects versus hands: Neural mechanisms
revealed by positron emission tomography. Psychophysiology, 35,
151–161.
Kosslyn, S. M., Pascual-Leone, A., Felician, O., Camposano, S., Keenan,
J. P., et al. (1999). The role of area 17 in visual imagery: Convergent
evidence from PET and rTMS. Science, 284, 167–170.
Kosslyn, S. M., & Thompson, W. L. (2003). When is early visual cortex acti-
vated during visual mental imagery? Psychological Bulletin, 129, 723–746.
Kotovsky, K., Hayes, J. R., & Simon, H. A. (1985). Why are some problems
hard? Evidence from Tower of Hanoi. Cognitive Psychology, 17, 248–294.
Koutstaal, W., Wagner, A. D., Rotte, M., Maril, A., Buckner, R. L., et al.
(2001). Perceptual specificity in visual object priming: fMRI evidence for
a laterality difference in fusiform cortex. Neuropsychologia, 39, 184–199.
Krause, J., Lalueza-Fox, C., Orlando L., Enard W., Green, R. E., et al.
(2007). The derived FOXP2 variant of modern humans was shared with
Neandertals. Current Biology, 17, 1908–1912.
Kroeber A. L. (2009). California kinship systems. BiblioLife, 2009.
Kroger, J. K, Nystrom, L. E., Cohen, J. D., & Johnson-Laird, P. N. (2008).
Distinct neural substrates for deductive and mathematical processing.
Brain Research, 1243, 83–103.
Kroll, J. F., & De Groot, A. M. B. (Eds.). (2005). Handbook of bilingualism:
Psycholinguistic approaches. Oxford: Oxford University Press.
Kuffler, S. W. (1953). Discharge pattern and functional organization of mam-
malian retina. Journal of Neurophysiology, 16, 37–68.
Kuhl, P. K. (1987). The special mechanisms debate in speech research:
Categorization tests on animals and infants. In S. Harnad (Ed.),
Categorical perception: The groundwork of cognition. (pp. 355–386). Cam-
bridge, England: Cambridge University Press.
Kulik, C., Kulik, J., & Bangert-Downs, R. (1986). Effects of testing for
mastery on student learning. Paper presented at the annual meeting of the
American Educational Research Association, San Francisco.
Kurzweil, R. (2005). The singularity is near: When humans transcend biology.
New York: Penguin.
Kutas, M., & Federmeier, K. D. (2000). Electrophysiology reveals semantic
memory use in language comprehension. Trends in Cognitive Sciences, 4,
463–470.
Kutas, M., & Hillyard, S. A. (1980). Event-related brain potentials to semanti-
cally inappropriate and surprisingly large words. Biological Psychology, 11,
539–550.
Labov, W. (1973). The boundaries of words and their meanings. In C.-J. N.
Bailey & R. W. Shuy (Eds.), New ways of analyzing variations in English
(pp. 340–373). Washington, DC: Georgetown University Press.
Lakoff, G. (1971). On generative semantics. In D. Steinberg & L. Jakobovits
(Eds.), Semantics: An interdisciplinary reader in philosophy, linguistics, anthro-
pology, and psychology (pp. 232-297). London: Cambridge University Press.
Landauer, T. K., Foltz, P. W., & Laham, D. (1998). Introduction to latent
semantic analysis. Discourse Processes, 25, 259–284.
Langley, P. W., Simon, H. A., Bradshaw, G. L., & Zytkow, J. (1987). Scientific
discovery: Computational explorations of the cognitive processes. Cam-
bridge, MA: MIT Press.
Larkin, J. H. (1981). Enriching formal knowledge: A model for learning to
solve textbook physics problems. In J. R. Anderson (Ed.), Cognitive skills
and their acquisition (pp. 311–335). Hillsdale, NJ: Erlbaum.
Lee, D. W., Miyasato, L. E., & Clayton, N. S. (1998). Neurobiological bases of
spatial learning in the natural environment: Neurogenesis and growth in
the avian and mammalian hippocampus. Neuroreport, 9, R15–R27.
Lee, H. S., & Anderson, J. R. (2013). Student learning: What has instruction
got to do with it? Annual Review of Psychology, 64, 445–469.
Lehman, H. G. (1953). Age and achievement. Princeton, NJ: Princeton
University Press.
Lenneberg, E. H. (1967). Biological foundations of language. New York: Wiley.
LePort, A. K., Mattfeld, A. T., Dickinson-Anson, H., Fallon, J. H., Stark,
C. E., et al. (2012). Behavioral and neuroanatomical investigation of
highly Superior autobiographical memory (HSAM). Neurobiology of
Learning and Memory, 98(1), 78–92.
Lesgold, A., Rubinson, H., Feltovich, P., Glaser, R., Klopfer, D., et al. (1988).
Expertise in a complex skill: Diagnosing X-ray pictures. In M. T. H.
Chi, R. Glaser, & M. J. Farr (Eds.), The nature of expertise (pp. 311–342).
Hillsdale, NJ: Erlbaum.
Levine, D. N., Warach, J., & Farah, M. (1985). Two visual systems in mental
imagery: Dissociation of “what” and “where” in imagery disorders due to
bilateral posterior cerebral lesions. Neurology, 35, 1010–1018.
Lewis, C. H., & Anderson, J. R. (1976). Interference with real world knowl-
edge. Cognitive Psychology, 7, 311–335.
Lewis, M. W. (1985). Context effects on cognitive skill acquisition. Unpublished
doctoral dissertation, Carnegie-Mellon University.
Li, S. Z., & Jain, A. K. (Eds.). (2011). Handbook of face recognition. New York:
Springer.
Anderson_8e_Ref.indd 382 13/09/14 10:03 AM
r e f e r e n c e s / 383
Liberman, A. M. (1970). The grammars of speech and language. Cognitive
Psychology, 1, 301–323.
Liberman, A. M., & Mattingly, I. G. (1985). The motor theory of speech
perception revised. Cognition, 21, 1–36.
Lieberman, P. (1984). The biology and evolution of language. Cambridge, MA:
Harvard University Press.
Linden, E. (1974). Apes, men, and language. New York: Saturday Review Press.
Lindsay, P. H., & Norman, D. A. (1977). Human information processing. New
York: Academic Press.
Lisker, L., & Abramson, A. (1970). The voicing dimension: Some experiments
in comparative phonetics. Proceedings of Sixth International Congress of
Phonetic Sciences, Prague, 1967. Prague: Academia.
Livingstone, M., & Hubel, D. (1988). Segregation of form, color, movement,
and depth: Anatomy, physiology, and perception. Science, 240, 740–749.
Loftus, E. F. (1974). Activation of semantic memory. American Journal of
Psychology, 86, 331–337.
Loftus, E. F. (1975). Leading questions and the eyewitness report. Cognitive
Psychology, 7, 560–572.
Loftus, E. F., Miller, D. G., & Burns, H. J. (1978). Misinformation and
memory: The creation of new memories. Journal of Experimental
Psychology: General, 118, 100–104.
Loftus, E. F., & Pickerall, J. (1995). The formation of false memories.
Psychiatric Annals, 25, 720–725.
Loftus, E. F., & Zanni, G. (1975). Eyewitness testimony: The influence of the
wording of a question. Bulletin of the Psychonomic Society, 5, 86–88.
Logan, G. D. (1988). Toward an instance theory of automatization. Psychological
Review, 95, 492–527.
Logan, G. D., & Klapp, S. T. (1991). Automatizing alphabet arithmetic. I. Is
extended practice necessary to produce automaticity? Journal of Experi-
mental Psychology: Learning, Memory, and Cognition, 17, 179–195.
Long, D. L., Golding, J. M., & Graesser, A. C. (1992). A test of the on-line
status of goal-related elaborative inferences. Journal of Memory and
Language, 31, 634–647.
Luchins, A. S. (1942). Mechanization in problem solving. Psychological Mono-
graphs, 54(Whole No. 248).
Luchins, A. S., & Luchins, E. H. (1959). Rigidity of behavior: A variational
approach to the effects of Einstellung. Eugene, OR: University of Oregon Books.
Luck, S. J., Chelazzi, L., Hillyard, S. A. & Desimone, R. (1997). Neural
mechanisms of spatial selective attention in areas V1, V2, and V4 of
macaque visual cortex. Journal of Neurophysiology, 77, 24–42.
Lucy, J., & Shweder, R. (1979). Whorf and his critics: Linguistic and non-lin-
guistic influences on color memory. American Anthropologist, 81, 581–615.
Lucy, J., & Shweder, R. (1988). The effect of incidental conversation on
memory for focal colors. American Anthropologist, 90, 923–931.
Lutz, M. F., & Radvansky, G. A. (1997). The fate of completed goal informa-
tion in narrative comprehension. Journal of Memory and Language, 36(2),
293–310.
Lynch, G., & Baudry, M. (1984). The biochemistry of memory: A new and
specific hypothesis. Science, 224, 1057–1063.
Lynn, S. J., Lock, T., Myers, B., & Payne, D. G. (1997). Recalling the unrecall-
able: Should hypnosis be used for memory recovery in psychotherapy?
Current Directions in Psychological Science, 6, 79–83.
Maclay, H., & Osgood, C. E. (1959). Hesitation phenomena in spontaneous
speech. Word, 15, 19–44.
MacLeod, C. M., & Dunbar, K. (1988). Training and Stroop-like interfer-
ences: Evidence for a continuum of automaticity. Journal of Experimental
Psychology: Learning, Memory, and Cognition, 14, 126–135.
MacLeod, C. M., Hunt, E. B., & Matthews, N. N. (1978). Individual dif-
ferences in the verification of sentence-picture relationships. Journal of
Verbal Learning and Verbal Behavior, 17, 493–507.
Macmillan, M. (2000). An odd kind of fame. Stories of Phineas Gage. Cam-
bridge, MA: MIT Press.
Macmillan, M., & Lena, M. L. (2010). Rehabilitating Phineas Gage. Neuropsy-
chological Rehabilitation, 20(5), 641–658.
MacWhinney, B., & Leinbach, J. (1991). Implementations are not conceptual-
izations: Revising the verb learning model. Cognition, 29, 121–157.
Maguire, E. A., Burgess, N., Donnett, J. G., Frackowiak, R. S. J., Frith, C. D.,
et al. (1998). Knowing where and getting there: A human navigation week.
Science, 280, 921–924.
Maguire, E. A., Gadian, D. G., Johnsrude, I. S., Good, C. D., Ashburner J., et al.
(2000). Navigation-related structural change in the hippocampi of taxi-drivers.
Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences, USA, 97, 4398–4403.
Maguire, E. A., Spiers, H. J., Good C. D., Hartley, T., Frackowiak, R. S. J.,
et al. (2003). Navigation expertise and the human hippocampus: A struc-
tural brain imaging analysis. Hippocampus, 13, 208–217.
Maier, N. R. F. (1931). Reasoning in humans. II. The solution of a problem
and its appearance in consciousness. Journal of Comparative Psychology,
12, 181–194.
Mandler, J. M., & Ritchey, G. H. (1977). Long-term memory for pictures.
Journal of Experimental Psychology: Human Learning and Memory, 3,
386–396.
Mangun, G. R., Hillyard, S. A., & Luck, S. J. (1993). Electrocortical substrates
of visual selective attention. In D. Meyer & S. Kornblum (Eds.), Attention
and performance (Vol. 14, pp. 219–243). Cambridge, MA: MIT Press.
Manktelow, K. (2012). Thinking and reasoning: An introduction to the psychology
of reason, judgment and decision making. New York: Psychology Press.
Marcus, G. F., Brinkman, U., Clahsen, H., Wiese, R., Woest, A., et al.
(1995). German inflection: The exception that proves the rule. Cognitive
Psychology, 29, 189–256.
Marler, P. (1967). Animal communication signals. Science, 157, 764–774.
Marmie, W. R., & Healy, A. F. (2004). Memory for common objects: Brief
intentional study is sufficient to overcome poor recall of US coin features.
Applied Cognitive Psychology, 18(4), 445–453.
Marr, D. (1982). Vision. San Francisco: W. H. Freeman.
Marr, D., & Nishihara, H. K. (1978). Representation and recognition of the
spatial organization of three-dimensional shapes. Proceedings of the Royal
Society of London B, 200, 269–294.
Marsh, E. J., & Butler, A. C. (2013). Memory in educational settings. Invited
chapter to appear in D. Reisberg (Ed.), Oxford Handbook of Cognitive
Psychology.
Marslen-Wilson, W., & Tyler, L. K. (1987). Against modularity. In J. L.
Garfield (Ed.), Modularity in knowledge representation and natural-
language understanding (pp. 37–62). Cambridge, MA: MIT Press.
Marslen-Wilson, W., & Tyler, L. K. (1998). Rules, representations, and the
English past tense. Trends in Cognitive Science, 2, 428–435.
Martin, A. (2001). Functional neuroimaging of semantic memory. In
R. Cabeza & A. Lingstone (Eds.), Handbook of functional neuroimaging of
cognition (pp. 153–186). Cambridge, MA: MIT Press.
Martin, L. (1986). Eskimo words for snow: A case study on the genesis and
decay of an anthropological example. American Anthropologist, 88, 418–423.
Martin, R. C. (2003). Language processing: Functional organization and
neuroanatomical basis. Annual Review of Psychology, 54, 55–89.
Martinez, A., Moses, P., Frank, L., Buxton, R., Wong, E., et al. (1997). Hemi-
spheric asymmetries in global and local processing: Evidence from fMRI.
Neuroreport, 8, 1685–1689.
Mason, R. A., & Just, M. A. (2006). Neuroimaging contributions to the
understanding of discourse processes. In M. Traxler & M. A. Gernsbacher
(Eds.), Handbook of psycholinguistics (pp. 765–799). Amsterdam: Elsevier.
Mason, R. A., Just, M. A., Keller, T. A., & Carpenter, P. A. (2003). Ambiguity
in the brain: How syntactically ambiguous sentences are processed.
Journal of Experimental Psychology: Learning, Memory, and Cognition, 29,
1319–1338.
Massaro, D. W. (1979). Letter information and orthographic context in word
perception. Journal of Experimental Psychology: Human Perception and
Performance, 5, 595–609.
Massaro, D. W. (1992). Broadening the domain of the fuzzy logical model
of perception. In H. L. Pick, Jr., P. Van den Broek, & D. C. Knill (Eds.),
Cognition: Conceptual and methodological issues (pp. 51–84). Washington,
DC: American Psychological Association.
Anderson_8e_Ref.indd 383 13/09/14 10:03 AM
384 / r e f e r e n c e s
Massaro, D. W. (1996). Modeling multiple influences in speech perception. In
A. Dijkstra & K. de Smedt (Eds.), Computational psycholinguistics: AI and
connectionist models of human language processing (pp. 85–113). London:
Taylor and Francis.
Masson, M. E. J., & MacLeod, C. M. (1992). Reenacting the route to inter-
pretation: Enhanced identification without prior perception. Journal of
Experimental Psychology: General, 121, 145–176.
Mayer, A., & Orth, I. (1901). Zur qualitativen Untersuchung der Association.
Zeitschrift für Psychologie, 26, 1–13.
Mazard, S. L., Fuller, N. J., Orcutt, K. M., Bridle, O., & Scanlan, D. J. (2004).
PCR analysis of the distribution of unicellular cyanobacterial diazotrophs
in the Arabian Sea. Applied and environmental microbiology, 70(12),
7355–7364.
Mazoyer, B. M., Tzourio, N., Frak, V., Syrota, A., Murayama, N., et al.
(1993). The cortical representation of speech. Journal of Cognitive Neuro-
science, 5, 467–479.
McCaffrey, T. (2012). Innovation relies on the obscure: A key to overcoming
the classic problem of functional fixedness. Psychological Science, 23(3),
215–218.
McCarthy, G., Puce, A., Gore, J. C., & Allison, T. (1997). Face-specific
processing in the human fusiform gyrus. Journal of Cognitive Neurosci-
ence, 9, 604–609.
McCarthy, J. (1996). From here to human-level intelligence. Unpublished
memo, Department of Computer Science, Stanford University, Stanford,
CA. Available at www.formal.stanford.edu/jmc/human.html.
McCloskey, M., & Glucksberg, S. (1978). Natural categories: Well-defined or
fuzzy sets? Memory & Cognition, 6, 462–472.
McCloskey, M., Wible, C. G., & Cohen, N. J. (1988). Is there a special
flashbulb-memory mechanism? Journal of Experimental Psychology:
General, 117, 171–181.
McClure, S. M., Laibson, D. I., Loewenstein, G., & Cohen, J. D. (2004).
Separate neural systems value immediate and delayed monetary rewards.
Science, 306, 503–507.
McConkie, G. W., & Currie, C. B. (1996). Visual stability across saccades
while viewing complex pictures. Journal of Experimental Psychology:
Human Perception and Performance, 22, 563–581.
McDonald, J. L. (1984). The mapping of semantic and syntactic processing
cues by first and second language learners of English, Dutch, and German.
Unpublished doctoral dissertation, Carnegie-Mellon University.
McGaugh, J. L., & Roozendaal, B. (2002). Role of adrenal stress hormones in
forming lasting memories in the brain. Current Opinion in Neurobiology,
12, 205–210.
McKeithen, K. B., Reitman, J. S., Rueter, H. H., & Hirtle, S. C. (1981).
Knowledge organization and skill differences in computer programmers.
Cognitive Psychology, 13, 307–325.
McLaughlin, B. (1978). Second-language acquisition in childhood. Hillsdale,
NJ: Erlbaum.
McNeil, B. J., Pauker, S. G., Sox, H. C., Jr., & Tversky, A. (1982). On the
elicitation of preferences for alternative therapies. New England Journal of
Medicine, 306, 1259–1262.
McNeill, D. (1966). Developmental psycholinguistics. In F. Smith & G. A.
Miller (Eds.), The genesis of language: A psycholinguistic approach.
Cambridge, MA: MIT Press.
McRae, K., Spivey-Knowlton, M. J., & Tannehaus, M. K. (1998). Modeling
the influence of thematic fit (and other constraints) in on-line sentence
comprehension. Journal of Memory and Language, 38, 283–312.
Medin, D. L., & Schaffer, M. M. (1978). A context theory of classification
learning. Psychological Review, 85, 207–238.
Mednick, S. A. (1962). The associative basis of the creative process. Psycho-
logical Review, 69, 220–232.
Melby-Lervåg, M., & Hulme, C. (2013). Is working memory training effec-
tive? A meta-analytic review. Developmental Psychology, 49(2), 270.
Messner, M., Beese, U., Romstock, J., Dinkel, M., Tschaikowsky, K. (2003).
The bispectral index declines during neuromuscular block in fully awake
persons. Anesthesia & Analgesia, 97, 488–491.
Metcalfe, J., & Wiebe, D. (1987). Intuition in insight and non-insight problem
solving. Memory & Cognition, 15, 238–246.
Metzler, J., & Shepard, R. N. (1974). Transformational studies of the internal
representations of three-dimensional objects. In R. L. Solso (Ed.), Theories
of cognitive psychology: The Loyola Symposium (pp. 147–201). Hillsdale,
NJ: Erlbaum.
Meyer, D. E., & Schvaneveldt, R. W. (1971). Facilitation in recognizing pairs
of words: Evidence of a dependence between retrieval operations. Journal
of Experimental Psychology, 90, 227–234.
Middleton, F. A., & Strick, P. L. (1994). Anatomical evidence for cerebellar
and basal ganglia involvement in higher cognitive function. Science, 266,
458–461.
Miller, G. A., & Nicely, P. (1955). An analysis of perceptual confusions among
some English consonants. Journal of the Acoustical Society of America, 27,
338–352.
Milner, A. D., & Goodale, M. A. (1995). The visual brain in action. Oxford:
Oxford University Press.
Milner, B. (1962). Les troubles de la memoire accompagnant des lesions
hippocampiques bilaterales. In P. Passonant (Ed.), Physiologie de
l’hippocampe (pp. 257–262). Paris: Centre National de la Recherche
Scientifique.
Mitchell, T. M., Shinkareva, S. V., Carlson, A., Chang, K. M., Malave,
V. L., et al. (2008). Predicting human brain activity associated with the
meanings of nouns. Science, 320(5880), 1191–1195.
Mithen, S. (2005). The singing Neanderthals: The origins of music, language,
mind, and body. Harvard University Press.
Miyachi, S., Hikosaka O., Miyashita K., Karadi, Z., & Rand, M. K. (1997).
Differential roles of monkey striatum in learning of sequential hand
movement. Experimental Brain Research, 115, 1–5.
Moll, M., & Miikkulainen, R. (1997). Convergence-zone episodic memory:
Analysis and simulations. Neural Networks, 10, 1017.
Monsell, S. (2003). Task switching. Trends in Cognitive Science, 7, 134–140.
Montague, P. R., Dayan, P., & Sejnowski, T. J. (1996). A framework for
mesencephalic dopamine systems based on predictive Hebbian learning.
Journal of Neuroscience, 16, 1936–1947.
Morasch, K. C., Raj, V. R., & Bell, M. A. (2013). The development of cogni-
tive control from infancy through childhood. In D. Reisberg (Ed.), Oxford
handbook of cognitive psychology (pp. 989–999). New York: Oxford.
Moray, N. (1959). Attention in dichotic listening: Affective cues and the influence
of instructions. Quarterly Journal of Experimental Psychology, 9, 56–90.
Moray, N., Bates, A., & Barnett, T. (1965). Experiments on the four-eared
man. Journal of the Acoustical Society of America, 38, 196–201.
Mori, G., & Malik, M. J. (2003). Recognizing objects in adversarial clutter:
Breaking a visual CAPTCHA. IEEE Conference on Computer Vision and
Pattern Recognition, 134–141.
Motley, M. T., Camden, C. T., & Baars, B. J. (1982). Covert formulation and
editing of anomalies in speech production: Evidence from experimentally
elicited slips of the tongue. Journal of Verbal Learning and Verbal Behavior,
21, 578–594.
Moyer, R. S. (1973). Comparing objects in memory: Evidence suggesting an
internal psychophysics. Perception and Psychophysics, 13, 180–184.
Murray, J. D., & Burke, K. A. (2003). Activation and encoding of predictive
inferences: The role of reading skill. Discourse Processes, 35, 81–102.
Näätänen, R. (1992). Attention and brain function. Hillsdale, NJ: Erlbaum.
Neisser, U. (1964). Visual search. Scientific American, 210, 94–102.
Neisser, U. (1967). Cognitive psychology. New York: Appleton.
Neisser, U. (1981). John Dean’s memory: A case study. Cognition, 9, 1–22.
Neisser, U., & Becklen, R. (1975). Selective looking: Attending to visually
specified events. Cognitive Psychology, 7, 480–494.
Neisser, U., Boodoo, G., Bouchard, T., Boykin, A. W., Brody, N., et al. (1996).
Intelligence: Knowns and unknowns. American Psychologist, 51, 77–101.
Neisser, U., & Harsch, N. (1992). Phantom flashbulbs: False recollections of
hearing the news about Challenger. In E. Winogrand & U. Neisser (Eds.),
Anderson_8e_Ref.indd 384 13/09/14 10:03 AM
http://www.formal.stanford.edu/jmc/human.html
r e f e r e n c e s / 385
Affect and accuracy in recall: Studies of “flashbulb” memories (pp. 9–33).
Cambridge, England: Cambridge University Press.
Neisser, U., Winograd, E., Bergman, E. T., Schreiber, C., Palmer, S., et al.
(1996). Remembering the earthquake: Direct experience versus hearing
the news. Memory, 4, 337–357.
Nelson, D. L. (1979). Remembering pictures and words: Appearance,
significance, and name. In L. S. Cermak & F. I. M. Craik (Eds.), Levels of
processing in human memory (pp. 45–76). Hillsdale, NJ: Erlbaum.
Nelson, T. O. (1971). Savings and forgetting from long-term memory. Journal
of Verbal Learning and Verbal Behavior, 10, 568–576.
Nelson, T. O. (1976). Reinforcement and human memory. In W. K. Estes
(Ed.), Handbook of learning and cognitive processes (Vol. 3, pp. 207–246).
Hillsdale, NJ: Erlbaum.
Neves, D. M., & Anderson, J. R. (1981). Knowledge compilation: Mechanisms
for the automatization of cognitive skills. In J. R. Anderson (Ed.), Cogni-
tive skills and their acquisition (pp. 57–84). Hillsdale, NJ: Erlbaum.
Newcombe, N. S., & Frick, A. (2010). Early education for spatial intelligence:
Why, what, and how. Mind, Brain, and Education, 4(3), 102–111.
Newell, A. (1990). Unified theories of cognition. Cambridge, MA: Harvard
University Press.
Newell, A., & Rosenbloom, P. S. (1981). Mechanisms of skill acquisition
and the law of practice. In J. R. Anderson (Ed.), Cognitive skills and their
acquisition (pp. 1–55). Hillsdale, NJ: Erlbaum.
Newell, A., & Simon, H. (1972). Human problem solving. Englewood Cliffs,
NJ: Prentice-Hall.
Newport, E. L. (1986). The effect of maturational state on the acquisition of
language. Paper presented at the Eleventh Annual Boston University
Conference on Language Development, October 17–19.
Newport, E. L., & Supalla, T. (1990). A critical period effect in the acquisition
of a primary language. Unpublished manuscript, University of Rochester,
Rochester, NY.
Newstead, S. E., Handley, S. J., Harley, C., Wright, H., & Farrelly, D. (2004).
Individual differences in deductive reasoning. Quarterly Journal of Experi-
mental Psychology Section A, 57(1), 33–60.
Nickerson, R. S. (1998). Confirmation bias: A ubiquitous phenomenon in
many guises. Review of General Psychology, 2, 175–220.
Nickerson, R. S., & Adams, M. J. (1979). Long-term memory for a common
object. Cognitive Psychology, 11(3), 287–307.
Nida, E. A. (1971). Sociopsychological problems in language mastery and
retention. In P. Pimsleur & T. Quinn (Eds.), The psychology of second
language acquisition (pp. 59–66). London: Cambridge University Press.
Nieder, A. (2012). Supramodal numerosity selectivity of neurons in primate
prefrontal and posterior parietal cortices. Proceedings of the National
Academy of Sciences, USA, 109(29), 11860–11865.
Nieder, A., & Dehaene, S. (2009). Representation of number in the brain.
Annual Review of Neuroscience, 32, 185–208.
Nilsson, L.-G., & Gardiner, J. M. (1993). Identifying exceptions in a database
of recognition failure studies from 1973 to 1992. Memory & Cognition,
21, 397–410.
Nilsson, N. J. (1971). Problem-solving methods in artificial intelligence. New
York: McGraw-Hill.
Nilsson, N. J. (2005). Human-level artificial intelligence? Be serious! AI
Magazine, 26, 68–75.
Nishimoto, S., Vu, A. T., Naselaris, T., Benjamini, Y., Yu, B., et al. (2011).
Reconstructing visual experiences from brain activity evoked by natural
movies. Current Biology, 21(19), 1641–1646.
Nisbett, R. E., Aronson, J., Blair, C., Dickens, W., Flynn, J., et al. (2012).
Intelligence: new findings and theoretical developments. American
Psychologist, 67(2), 130.
Nissen, M. J., & Bullemer, P. (1987). Attentional requirements of learning:
Evidence from performance measures. Cognitive Psychology, 19, 1–32.
Noelting, G. (1975). Stages and mechanisms in the development of the concept
of proportion in the child and adolescent. Paper presented at the First
Interdisciplinary Seminar on Piagetian Theory and Its Implications for the
Helping Professions, University of Southern California, Los Angeles.
Nosofsky, R. M. (1986). Attention, similarity, and the identification-categoriza-
tion relationship. Journal of Experimental Psychology: General, 115, 39–57.
Nosofsky, R. M. (1991). Tests of an exemplar model for relating percep-
tual classification and recognition in memory. Journal of Experimental
Psychology: Human Perception and Performance, 17, 3–27.
Oaksford, M., & Chater, N. (1994). A rational analysis of the selection task as
optimal data selection. Psychological Review, 101, 608–631.
Oaksford, M., & Wakefield, M. (2003). Data selection and natural-sampling:
Probabilities do matter. Memory & Cognition, 31, 143–154.
Oates, J. M., & Reder, L. M. (2010). Memory for pictures: Sometimes a
picture is not worth a single word. In A. S. Benjamin (Ed.), Successful
remembering and successful forgetting: A festschrift in honor of Robert A.
Bjork. New York: Psychological Press, p. 447–462.
O’Brien, E. J., Albrecht, J. E., Hakala, C. M., & Rizzella, M. L. (1995).
Activation and suppression of antecedents during reinstatement. Journal
of Experimental Psychology: Learning, Memory, and Cognition, 21(3), 626.
O’Craven, K. M., Downing, P., & Kanwisher, N. K. (1999). fMRI evidence for
objects as the units of attentional selection. Nature, 401, 584–587.
O’Craven, K., & Kanwisher, N. (2000). Mental imagery of faces and places
activates corresponding stimulus-specific brain regions. Journal of Cogni-
tive Neuroscience, 12, 1013–1023.
Oden, D. L., Thompson, R. K. R., & Premack, D. (2001). Can an ape reason
analogically? Comprehension and production of analogical problems by
Sarah, a chimpanzee (Pan troglodytes). In D. Gentner, K. J. Holyoak, &
B. N. Kokinov (Eds.), Analogy: Theory and phenomena (pp. 472–497).
Cambridge, MA: MIT Press.
O’Doherty, J. P., Dayan, P., Schultz, J., Deichmann, R., Friston, K., et al.
(2004). Dissociable roles of ventral and dorsal striatum in instrumental
conditioning. Science, 304, 452–454.
Ohlsson, S. (1992). The learning curve for writing books: Evidence from
Professor Asimov. Psychological Science, 3, 380–382.
Okada, S., Hanada, M., Hattori, H., & Shoyama, T. (1963). A case of pure
word-deafness. Studia Phonologica, 3, 58–65.
Okada, T., & Simon, H. A. (1997). Collaborative discovery in a scientific
domain. Cognitive Science, 21, 109–146.
O’Keefe, J., & Dostrovsky, J. (1971). The hippocampus as a spatial map:
Preliminary evidence from unit activity in the freely moving rat. Experi-
mental Brain Research, 34, 171–175.
Olds, J., & Milner, P. (1954). Positive reinforcement produced by electrical
stimulation of septal area and other regions of rat brain. Journal of Com-
parative and Physiological Psychology, 47, 419–427.
Osterhout, L., & Holcomb, P. J. (1992). Event-related potentials elicited by
syntactic anomaly. Journal of Memory and Language, 31, 785–806.
Otten, L. J., Henson, R. N., & Rugg, M. D. (2001). Depth of processing effects
on neural correlates of memory encoding: Relationship between findings
from across- and within-task comparisons. Brain, 124, 399–412.
Owens, J., Bower, G. H., & Black, J. B. (1979). The “soap opera” effect in story
recall. Memory & Cognition, 7, 185–191.
Oyama, S. (1978). The sensitive period and comprehension of speech. Working
Papers on Bilingualism, 16, 1–17.
Paivio, A. (1971). Imagery and verbal processes. New York: Holt, Rinehart, &
Winston.
Paivio, A. (1986). Mental representations: A dual coding approach. New York:
Oxford University Press.
Paller, K. A., & Wagner, A. D. (2002). Observing the transformation of expe-
rience into memory. Trends in Cognitive Science, 6, 93–102.
Palmer, S. E. (1977). Hierarchical structure in perceptual representation.
Cognitive Psychology, 9, 441–474.
Palmer, S. E., Schreiber, G., & Fox., C. (1991, November 22–24).
Remembering the earthquake: “Flashbulb” memory of experienced versus
reported events. Paper presented at the 32nd annual meeting of the
Psychonomic Society, San Francisco.
Pane, J. F., Griffin, B. A., McCaffrey, D. F., & Karam, R. (2013). Effectiveness
of Cognitive Tutor Algebra I at scale. Santa Monica, CA: RAND Corpora-
tion. http://www.rand.org/pubs/working_papers/WR984.
Anderson_8e_Ref.indd 385 13/09/14 10:03 AM
http://www.rand.org/pubs/working_papers/WR984
386 / r e f e r e n c e s
Pardo, J. V., Pardo, P. J., Janer, K. W., & Raichle, M. E. (1990). The anterior
cingulate cortex mediates processing selection in the Stroop attentional
conflict paradigm. Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences, USA,
87, 256–259.
Paris, S. C., & Lindauer, B. K. (1976). The role of interference in children’s
comprehension and memory for sentences. Cognitive Psychology, 8,
217–227.
Parker, E. S., Birnbaum, I. M., & Noble, E. P. (1976). Alcohol and memory:
Storage and state dependency. Journal of Verbal Learning and Verbal
Behavior, 15, 691–702.
Parker, E. S., Cahill, L., & McGaugh, J. L. (2006). A case of unusual autobio-
graphical remembering. Neurocase, 12, 35–49.
Parsons, L. M., & Osherson, D. (2001). New evidence for distinct right and
left brain systems for deductive vs. probabilistic reasoning. Cerebral
Cortex, 11, 954–965.
Pascual-Leone, A., Gomez-Tortosa, E., Grafman, J., Always, D., Nichelli, P.,
et al. (1994). Induction of visual extinction by rapid-rate transcranial mag-
netic stimulation of parietal lobe. Neurology, 44, 494–498.
Pascual-Leone, J. (1980). Constructive problems for constructive theories:
The current relevance of Piaget’s work and a critique of information-
processing psychology. In R. H. Kluwe & H. Spada (Eds.), Developmental
models of thinking (pp. 263–296). New York: Academic Press.
Penfield, W. (1959). The interpretive cortex. Science, 129, 1719–1725.
Penfield, W., & Jasper, H. (1954). Epilepsy and the functional anatomy of the
human brain. Boston: Little, Brown.
Perlmutter, M., Kaplan, M., & Nyquist, L. (1990). Development of adaptive
competence in adulthood. Human Development, 33, 185–197.
Perrett, D. I., Rolls, E. T., & Caan, W. (1982). Visual neurons responsive to
faces in the monkey temporal cortex. Experimental Brain Research, 47,
329–342.
Peterson, M. A., Kihlstrom, J. F., Rose, P. M., & Gilsky, M. L. (1992). Mental
images can be ambiguous: Reconstruals and reference-frame reversals.
Memory & Cognition, 20, 107–123.
Peterson, S. B., & Potts, G. R. (1982). Global and specific components of
information integration. Journal of Verbal Learning and Verbal Behavior,
21, 403–420.
Peterson, S. E., Robinson, D. L., & Morris, J. D. (1987). Contributions of the
pulvinar to visual spatial attention. Neuropsychologia, 25, 97–105.
Phelps, E. A. (1989). Cognitive skill learning in amnesiacs. Doctoral disserta-
tion, Princeton University.
Phelps, E. A. (2004). Human emotion and memory: Interactions of the
amygdala and hippocampal complex. Current Opinion in Neurobiology,
14, 198–202.
Picton, T. W., & Hillyard, S. A. (1974). Human auditory evoked potentials. II.
Effects of attention. Electroencephalography and Clinical Neurophysiology,
36, 191–199.
Pillsbury, W. B. (1908). The effects of training on memory. Educational
Review, 36, 15–27.
Pine, D. S., Grun, J., Maguire, E. A., Burgess, N., Zarahn, E., et al. (2002).
Neurodevelopmental aspects of spatial navigation: A virtual reality fMRI
study. Neuroimage, 15, 396–406.
Pinker, S. (1994). The language instinct. New York: HarperCollins.
Pinker, S., & Prince, A. (1988). On language and connectionism: Analysis of
a parallel distributed processing model of language acquisition. Cognition,
28, 73–193.
Pirolli, P. L., & Anderson, J. R. (1985). The role of practice in fact retrieval.
Journal of Experimental Psychology: Learning, Memory, and Cognition, 11,
136–153.
Pisoni, D. B. (1977). Identification and discrimination of the relative onset
time of two component tones: Implications for voicing perception in
stops. Journal of the Acoustical Society of America, 61, 1352–1361.
Pizlo, Z., Stefanov, E., Saalweachter, J., Li, Z., Haxhimusa, Y., et al. (2006).
Traveling salesman problem: A foveating pyramid model. Journal of
Problem Solving, 1, 83–101.
Pohl, W. (1973). Dissociation of spatial discrimination deficits following
frontal and parietal lesions in monkeys. Journal of Comparative and Physi-
ological Psychology, 82, 227–239.
Poincaré, H. (1929). The foundations of science. New York: Science House.
Poldrack, R. A., & Gabrieli, J. D. E. (2001). Characterizing the neural mecha-
nisms of skill learning and repetition priming: Evidence from mirror
reading. Brain, 124, 67–82.
Poldrack, R. A., Prabhakaran, V., Seger, C., Desmond, J. E., Glover, G. H.,
et al. (1999). Striatal activation during acquisition of a cognitive skill
learning. Neuropsychology, 13, 564–574.
Polson, P. G., Muncher, E., & Kieras, D. E. (1987). Transfer of skills between
inconsistent editors. Austin, TX: Microelectronics and Computer Technology
Corporation. (MCC Technical Report Number ACA-HI-395-87.)
Polster, M., McCarthy, R., O’Sullivan, G., Gray, P., & Park, G. (1993).
Midazolam-induced amnesia: Implications for the implicit/explicit
memory distinction. Brain & Cognition, 22, 244–265.
Pope, K. S. (1996). Memory, abuse, and science: Questioning claims about
the false memory syndrome epidemic (author’s reprint). American
Psychologist, 51, 957–974.
Posner, M. I. (1988). Structures and functions of selective attention. In
T. Boll & B. Bryant (Eds.), Master lectures in clinical neuropsychology
(pp. 173–202). Washington, DC: American Psychological Association.
Posner, M. I., Cohen, Y., & Rafal, R. D. (1982). Neural systems control of
spatial orienting. Philosophical Transactions of the Royal Society of London
B, 298, 187–198.
Posner, M. I., Nissen, M. J., & Ogden, W. C. (1978). Attended and unat-
tended processing modes: The role of set for spatial location. In H. L. Pick,
Jr., & I. J. Saltzman (Eds.), Modes of perceiving and processing information
(pp. 137–157). Hillsdale, NJ: Erlbaum.
Posner, M. I., Peterson, S. E., Fox, P. T., & Raichle, M. E. (1988). Localization
of cognitive operations in the human brain. Science, 240, 1627–1631.
Posner, M. I., Rafal, R. D., Chaote, L. S., & Vaughn, J. (1985). Inhibition of
return: Neural basis and function. Cognitive Neuropsychology, 2, 211–228.
Posner, M. I., Snyder, C. R. R., & Davidson, B. J. (1980). Attention and the
detection of signals. Journal of Experimental Psychology: General, 109,
160–174.
Posner, M. I., Walker, J. A., Friederich, F. J., & Rafal, R. D. (1984). Effects of
parietal injury on covert orienting of attention. Journal of Neuroscience, 4,
1863–1874.
Postle, B. R. (2006). Working memory as an emergent property of the mind
and brain. Neuroscience, 139(1), 23–38.
Postle, B. R. (In Press) Activation and information in working memory
research. In A. Duarte, M. Barense, & D. R. Addis (Eds.), The Wiley-Black-
well handbook on the cognitive neuroscience of memory (pp. 897–901).
Hoboken, NJ: Wiley-Blackwell.
Postman, L. (1964). Short-term memory and incidental learning. In A. W.
Melton (Ed.), Categories of human learning (pp. 146–201). New York:
Academic Press.
Potter, M. C., & Lombardi, L. (1990). Regeneration in the short-term recall of
sentences. Journal of Memory and Language, 29(6), 633–654.
Premack, D. (1976). Intelligence in ape and man. Hillsdale, NJ: Erlbaum.
Premack, D., & Premack, A. J. (1983). The mind of an ape. New York: W. W.
Norton.
Press, J. H. (2006). Unknown quantity: A real and imaginary history of algebra.
Washington, D.C.: National Academy Press.
Pressley, M., McDaniel, M. A., Turnure, J. E., Wood, E., & Ahmad, M.
(1987). Generation and precision of elaboration: Effects on intentional
and incidental learning. Journal of Experimental Psychology: Learning,
Memory, and Cognition, 13, 291–300.
Price, J. (2008). The woman who can’t forget. New York, NY: Simon & Schuster.
Priest, A. G., & Lindsay, R. O. (1992). New light on novice-expert differences
in physics problem solving. British Journal of Psychology, 83, 389–405.
Pritchard, R. M. (1961). Stabilized images on the retina. Scientific American,
204, 72–78.
Anderson_8e_Ref.indd 386 13/09/14 10:03 AM
r e f e r e n c e s / 387
Pullman, G. K. (1989). The great Eskimo vocabulary hoax. National Language
and Linguistic Theory, 7, 275–281.
Pylyshyn, Z. W. (1973). What the mind’s eye tells the mind’s brain: A critique
of mental imagery. Psychological Bulletin, 80, 1–24.
Qin, Y., Anderson, J. R., Silk, E., Stenger, V. A., & Carter, C. S. (2004). The
change of the brain activation patterns along with the children’s practice
in algebra equation solving. Proceedings of the National Academy of
Sciences, USA, 101, 5686–5691.
Qin, Y., Sohn, M.-H., Anderson, J. R., Stenger, V. A., Fissell, K., et al.
(2003). Predicting the practice effects on the blood oxygenation level-
dependent (BOLD) function of fMRI in a symbolic manipulation task.
Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences, USA, 100, 4951–4956.
Quillian, M. R. (1966). Semantic memory. Cambridge, MA: Bolt, Beranak and
Newman.
Raaijmakers, J. G., & Jakab, E. (2013). Rethinking inhibition theory: On
the problematic status of the inhibition theory for forgetting. Journal of
Memory and Language, 68(2), 98–122.
Rabinowitz, M., & Goldberg, N. (1995). Evaluating the structure-process
hypothesis. In F. E. Weinert & W. Schneider (Eds.), Memory performance
and competencies: Issues in growth and development (pp. 225–242). Hills-
dale, NJ: Erlbaum.
Ratcliff, G., & Newcombe, F. (1982). Object recognition: Some deductions
from the clinical evidence. In A. W. Ellis (Ed.), Normality and pathology in
cognitive functions (pp. 147–171). London: Academic Press.
Ratiu, P., Talos, I. F., Haker, S., Lieberman, S., & Everett, P. (2004). The
tale of Phineas Gage, digitally remastered. Journal of Neurotrauma, 21,
637–643.
Raymond, C. R., & Redman, S. J. (2006). Spatial segregation of neuronal
calcium signals encodes different forms of LTP in rat hippocampus.
J. Physiol. 570, 97–111.
Rayner, K. (2009). Eye movements and attention in reading, scene perception,
and visual search. The Quarterly Journal of Experimental Psychology 62(8),
1457–1506.
Rayner, K., Foorman, B. R., Perfetti, C. A., Pesetsky, D., & Seidenberg, M. S.
(2002). How should reading be taught? Scientific American, 286(3), 85–91.
(Adaptation of How psychological science informs the teaching of read-
ing. Psychological Science in the Public Interest, 2, 31–74.)
Reder, L. M. (1982). Plausibility judgment versus fact retrieval: Alternative
strategies for sentence verification. Psychological Review, 89, 250–280.
Reder, L. M., & Kusbit, G. W. (1991). Locus of the Moses illusion: Imperfect
encoding, retrieval or match? Journal of Memory and Language, 30,
385–406.
Reder, L. M., Park, H., & Keiffaber, P. (2009). Memory systems do not divide
on consciousness: Reinterpreting memory in terms of activation and
binding. Psychological Bulletin, 135, 23–49.
Reder, L. M., & Ross, B. H. (1983). Integrated knowledge in different tasks:
Positive and negative fan effects. Journal of Experimental Psychology:
Human Learning and Memory, 8, 55–72.
Redick, T. S., Shipstead, Z., Harrison, T. L., Hicks, K. L., Fried, D. E., et al.
(2013). No evidence of intelligence improvement after working memory
training: A randomized, placebo-controlled study. Journal of Experimental
Psychology: General, 142(2), 359.
Reed, S. K. (1972). Pattern recognition and categorization. Cognitive
Psychology, 3, 382–407.
Reed, S. K. (1987). A structure-mapping model for word problems. Journal of
Experimental Psychology: Learning, Memory, and Cognition, 13, 124–139.
Reed, S. K., & Bolstad, C. A. (1991). Use of examples and procedures in
problem solving. Journal of Experimental Psychology: Learning, Memory,
and Cognition, 17, 753–766.
Reicher, G. (1969). Perceptual recognition as a function of meaningfulness of
stimulus material. Journal of Experimental Psychology, 81, 275–280.
Reichle, E. D., Carpenter, P. A., & Just, M. A. (2000). The neural basis of
strategy and skill in sentence-picture verification. Cognitive Psychology,
40, 261–295.
Reitman, J. (1976). Skilled perception in GO: Deducing memory structures
from inter-response times. Cognitive Psychology, 8, 336–356.
Reyna, V. F., & Farley, F. (2006). Risk and rationality in adolescent decision
making: Implications for theory, practice, and public policy. Psychological
Science in the Public Interest, 7, 1–44.
Richardson-Klavehn, A., & Bjork, R. A. (1988). Measures of memory.
Annual Review of Psychology, 39, 475–543.
Richter, T., & Späth, P. (2006). Recognition is used as one cue among others
in judgment and decision making. Journal of Experimental Psychology:
Learning, Memory & Cognition, 32, 150–162.
Rinck, M., & Bower, G. H. (1995). Anaphora resolution and the focus of
attention in situation models. Journal of Memory and Language, 34(1),
110–131.
Rist, R. S. (1989). Schema creation in programming. Cognitive Science, 13,
67–96.
Ritter, S., Anderson, J. R., Koedinger, K. R., & Corbett, A. (2007). Cognitive
tutor: Applied research in mathematics education. Psychonomic Bulletin &
Review, 14, 249–255.
Rizzolatti, G., & Craighero, L. (2004). The mirror-neuron system. Annual
Review of Neuroscience, 27, 169–192.
Roberson, D., Davies I., & Davidoff, J. (2000). Colour categories are not
universal: Replications and new evidence from a stone-age culture.
Journal of Experimental Psychology: General, 129, 369–398.
Roberts, R. J., Hager, L. D., & Heron, C. (1994). Prefrontal cognitive
processes: Working memory and inhibition in the antisaccade task.
Journal of Experimental Psychology: General, 123, 374–393.
Robertson, L. C., & Lamb, M. R. (1991). Neuropsychological contributions to
theories of part/whole organization. Cognitive Psychology, 23, 299–330.
Robertson, L. C., & Rafal, R. (2000). Disorders of visual attention. In M.
Gazzaniga (Ed.), The new cognitive neuroscience (2nd ed., pp. 633–650).
Cambridge, MA: MIT Press.
Robinson, G. H. (1964). Continuous estimation of a time-varying probability.
Ergonomics, 7, 7–21.
Roediger, H. L., & Guynn, M. J. (1996). Retrieval processes. In E. L. Bjork & R. A.
Bjork (Eds.), Human memory (pp. 197–236). San Diego: Academic Press.
Roediger, H. L., & Karpicke, J. D. (2006). Test-enhanced learning: Taking
memory tests improves long-term retention. Psychological Science, 17,
249–255.
Roediger, H. L., & McDermott, K. B. (1995). Creating false memories:
Remembering words not presented in lists. Journal of Experimental
Psychology: Learning, Memory, and Cognition, 21, 803–814.
Roelfsema, P. R., Lamme, V. A. F., & Spekreijse, H. (1998). Object-based
attention in the primary visual cortex of the macaque monkey. Nature,
395, 376–381.
Roland, P. E., Eriksson, L., Stone-Elander, S., & Widen, L. (1987). Does
mental activity change the oxidative metabolism of the brain? Journal of
Neuroscience, 7, 2373–2389.
Roland, P. E., & Friberg, L. (1985). Localization of cortical areas activated by
thinking. Journal of Neurophysiology, 53, 1219–1243.
Rolls, E. T. (1992). Neurophysiological mechanisms underlying face
processing within and beyond the temporal cortical visual areas. Philo-
sophical Transactions of the Royal Society of London B, 335, 11–21.
Roring, R. W. (2008). Reviewing expert chess performance: A production-
based theory of chess skill. Unpublished PhD thesis, Florida State
University.
Rosch, E. (1973). On the internal structure of perceptual and semantic
categories. In T. E. Moore (Ed.), Cognitive development and the acquisition
of language (pp. 111–144). New York: Academic Press.
Rosch, E. (1975). Cognitive representations of semantic categories. Journal of
Experimental Psychology: General, 104, 192–223.
Rosch, E. (1977). Human categorization. In N. Warren (Ed.), Advances in
cross-cultural psychology (Vol. 1, pp. 1–49). London: Academic Press.
Ross, B. H. (1984). Remindings and their effects in learning a cognitive skill.
Cognitive Psychology, 16, 371–416.
Ross, B. H. (1987). This is like that: The use of earlier problems and the sepa-
ration of similarity effects. Journal of Experimental Psychology: Learning,
Memory, and Cognition, 13, 629–639.
Anderson_8e_Ref.indd 387 13/09/14 10:03 AM
388 / r e f e r e n c e s
Ross, J., & Lawrence, K. A. (1968). Some observations on memory artifice.
Psychonomic Science, 13, 107–108.
Rossi, S., Cappa, S. F., Babiloni, C., Pasqualetti, P., Miniussi, C., et al.
(2001). Prefrontal cortex in long-term memory: An “interference”
approach using magnetic stimulation. Natural Neuroscience, 4, 948–952.
Rossi, S., Pasqualetti, P., Zito, G., Vecchio, F., Cappa, S. F., et al. (2006).
Prefrontal and parietal cortex in human episodic memory: An interfer-
ence study by repetitive transcranial magnetic stimulation. European
Journal of Neuroscience, 23, 793–800.
Rottschy, C., Langner, R., Dogan, I., Reetz, K., Laird, A. R., et al. (2012).
Modelling neural correlates of working memory: A coordinate-based
meta-analysis. Neuroimage, 60(1), 830–846.
Ruiz, D. (1987). Learning and problem solving: What is learned while solving
the Tower of Hanoi? Doctoral dissertation, Stanford University, 1986.
Dissertation Abstracts International, 42, 3438B.
Rumelhart, D. E., & McClelland, J. L. (1986). On learning the past tenses
of English verbs. In J. L. McClelland & D. E. Rumelhart (Eds.), Parallel
distributed processing: Explorations in the microstructure of cognition (Vol.
2, pp. 216–271). Cambridge, MA: MIT Press/Bradford Books.
Rumelhart, D. E., & Ortony, A. (1976). The representation of knowledge
in memory. In R. C. Anderson, R. J. Spiro, & W. E. Montague (Eds.),
Semantic factors in cognition (pp. 99–135). Hillsdale, NJ: Erlbaum.
Rumelhart, D. E., & Siple, P. (1974). Process of recognizing tachistoscopically
presented words. Psychological Review, 81, 99–118.
Rundus, D. J. (1971). Analysis of rehearsal processes in free recall. Journal of
Experimental Psychology, 89, 63–77.
Russell, S., & Norvig, P. (2009). Artificial intelligence: A modern approach (3rd
ed.). Upper Saddle River, NJ: Prentice-Hall.
Sacks, O. W. (1985). The man who mistook his wife for a hat and other clinical
tales. New York: Summit Books.
Saffran, E. M., & Schwartz, M. F. (1994). Of cabbages and things: Semantic
memory from a neuropsychological perspective—a tutorial review. In
C. Umilta & M. Moscovitch (Eds.), Attention and performance XV
(pp. 507–536). Hove and London: Churchill Livingstone.
Safren, M. A. (1962). Associations, set, and the solution of word problems.
Journal of Experimental Psychology, 64, 40–45.
Salamy, A. (1978). Commissural transmission: Maturational changes in
humans. Science, 200, 1409–1411.
Salthouse, T. A. (1985). Anticipatory processes in transcription typing.
Journal of Applied Psychology, 70, 264–271.
Salthouse, T. A. (1986). Perceptual, cognitive, and motoric aspects of tran-
scription typing. Psychological Bulletin, 99, 303–319.
Salthouse, T. A. (1992). Mechanisms of age-cognition relations in adulthood.
Hillsdale, NJ: Erlbaum.
Sams, M., Hari, R., Rif, J., & Knuutila, J. (1993). The human auditory
sensory memory trace persists about 10 s: Neuromagnetic evidence.
Journal of Cognitive Neuroscience, 5, 363–370.
Sanfey, A. G., Hastie, R., Colvin, M. K., & Grafman, J. (2003). Phineas
gauged: Decision-making and the frontal lobes. Neuropsychologia, 41,
1218–1229.
Santa, J. L. (1977). Spatial transformations of words and pictures. Journal of
Experimental Psychology: Human Learning and Memory, 3, 418–427.
Santrock, J. W., & Yussen, S. R. (1989). Child development—An introduction.
Dubuque, IA: Wm. C. Brown.
Sarason, S. B., & Doris, J. (1979). Educational handicap, public policy, and
social history. New York: Free Press.
Saufley, W. H., Otaka, S. R., & Bavaresco, J. L. (1985). Context effects: Class-
room tests and context independence. Memory & Cognition, 13, 522–528.
Savage-Rumbaugh, E. S., Murphy, J., Sevik, R. A., Brakke, K. E., Williams,
S. L., et al. (1993). Language comprehension in ape and child. Mono-
graphs of the Society for Research in Child Development, 58(Serial No. 233).
Sayers, D. L. (1968). Five red herrings. New York: Avon.
Schacter, D. L. (1987). Implicit memory: History and current status. Journal of
Experimental Psychology: Learning, Memory, and Cognition, 13, 501–518.
Schacter, D. L. (1987). Implicit memory: History and current status. Journal of
Experimental Psychology: Learning, Memory, and Cognition, 13, 501–518.
Schacter, D. L. (2001). The seven sins of memory: How the mind forgets and
remembers. Boston: Houghton Mifflin.
Schacter, D. L., & Badgaiyan, R. D. (2001). Neuroimaging of priming: New
perspectives on implicit and explicit memory. Current Directions in
Psychological Science, 10, 1–4.
Schacter, D. L., Cooper, L. A., Delaney, S. M., Peterson, M. A., & Tharan, M.
(1991). Implicit memory for possible and impossible objects: Constraints
on the construction of structural descriptions. Journal of Experimental
Psychology: Learning, Memory, and Cognition, 17, 3–19.
Schaie, K. W. (1996). Intellectual development in adulthood. In J. Birren &
K. W. Schaie (Eds.), Handbook of the psychology of aging (4th ed.,
pp. 266–286). San Diego: Academic Press.
Schank, R. C., & Abelson, R. (1977). Scripts, plans, goals, and understanding.
Hillsdale, NJ: Erlbaum.
Scheines, R., & Sieg, W. (1994). Computer environments for proof construc-
tion. Interactive Learning Environments, 4, 159–169.
Schieffelin, B. (1979). How Kaluli children learn what to say, what to do, and
how to feel: An ethnographic study of the development of communicative
competence. Unpublished doctoral dissertation, Columbia University.
Schmidt, F. L., & Hunter, J. E. (2004). General mental ability in the world
of work: Occupational attainment and job performance. Journal of
Personality and Social Psychology, 86, 162–173.
Schmidt, R. A. (1988). Motor and action perspectives on motor behavior. In
O. G. Meijer & K. Rother (Eds.), Complete movement behavior: The motor-
action controversy (pp. 3–44). Amsterdam: Elsevier.
Schneider, W., Körkel, J., & Weinert, F. E. (1988, July 6–8). Expert knowledge,
general abilities, and text processing. Paper presented at the Workshop on
Interactions among Aptitudes, Strategies, and Knowledge in Cognitive
Performance.
Schneiderman, B. (1976). Exploratory experiments in programmer behavior.
International Journal of Computer and Information Sciences, 5, 123–143.
Schoenfeld, A. H., & Herrmann, D. J. (1982). Problem perception and
knowledge structure in expert and novice mathematical problem solvers.
Journal of Experimental Psychology: Learning, Memory, and Cognition, 8,
484–494.
Schultz, W. (1998). Predictive reward signal of dopamine neurons. Journal of
Neurophysiology, 80, 1–27.
Schumacher, E. H., Seymour, T. L., Glass, J. M., Fencsik, D. E., Lauber, E. J.,
et al. (2001). Virtually perfect time sharing in dual-task performance: Un-
corking the central cognitive bottleneck. Psychological Science, 12, 101–108.
Selfridge, O. G. (1955). Pattern recognition and modern computers.
Proceedings of the Western Joint Computer Conference. New York: Institute
of Electrical and Electronics Engineers.
Selkoe, D. J. (1992). Aging brain, aging mind. Scientific American, 267(3),
135–142.
Semendeferi, K., Armstrong, E., Schleicher, A., Zilles, K., & Van Hoesen,
G. W. (2001). Prefrontal cortex in humans and apes: A comparative study
of area 10. American Journal of Physical Anthropology, 114, 224–241.
Shafir, E. (1993). Choosing versus rejecting: Why some opinions are both
better and worse than others. Memory & Cognition, 21, 546–556.
Sharot, T. Martorella, E. A., Delgado, M. R., & Phelps, E. A. (2007). How
personal experience modulates the neural circuitry of memories of
September 11. Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences, USA, 104,
389–394.
Shelton, A. L., & Gabrieli, J. D. (2002). Neural correlates of encoding space
from route and survey perspectives. Journal of Neuroscience, 22, 2711–2717.
Shepard, R. N. (1967). Recognition memory for words, sentences, and pic-
tures. Journal of Verbal Learning and Verbal Behavior, 6, 156–163.
Shepard, R. N., & Metzler, J. (1971). Mental rotation of three-dimensional
objects. Science, 171, 701–703.
Shepard, R. N., & Teghtsoonian, M. (1961). Retention of information under
conditions approaching a steady state. Journal of Experimental Psychology,
62, 302–309.
Anderson_8e_Ref.indd 388 13/09/14 10:03 AM
r e f e r e n c e s / 389
Shipstead, Z., Hicks, K. L., & Engle, R. W. (2012). Working memory training
remains a work in progress. Journal of Applied Research in Memory and
Cognition, 1(3), 217–219.
Shomstein, S., & Behrmann, M. (2006). Cortical systems mediating visual
attention to both objects and spatial locations. Proceedings of the National
Academy of Sciences, USA, 103(30), 11387–11392.
Shortliffe, E. H. (1976). Computer based medical consultations: MYCIN. New
York: Elsevier.
Shuford, E. H. (1961). Percentage estimation of proportion as a function of
element type, exposure time, and task. Journal of Experimental Psychology,
61, 430–436.
Siegler, R. S. (1996). Emerging minds: The process of change in children’s
thinking. New York: Oxford University Press.
Siegler, R. S. (1998). Children’s thinking (3rd ed.). Upper Saddle River, NJ:
Prentice-Hall.
Silveira, J. (1971). Incubation: The effect of interruption timing and length on
problem solution and quality of problem processing. Unpublished doctoral
dissertation, University of Oregon.
Silver, E. A. (1979). Student perceptions of relatedness among mathematical
verbal problems. Journal for Research in Mathematics Education, 12, 54–64.
Simester, D., & Drazen, P. (2001). Always leave home without it: A further
investigation of the credit card effect on willingness to pay. Marketing
Letters, 12, 5–12.
Simon, H. A. (1989). The scientist as a problem solver. In D. Klahr &
K. Kotovsky (Eds.), Complex information processing: The impact of Herbert
Simon (pp. 375–398). Hillsdale, NJ: Erlbaum.
Simon, H. A., & Gilmartin, K. (1973). A simulation of memory for chess
positions. Cognitive Psychology, 5, 29–46.
Simon, H., & Lea, G. (1974). Problem solving and rule induction. In H.
Simon (Ed.), Models of thought. New Haven, CT: Yale University Press.
Simon, T. J., Hespos, S. J., & Rochat, P. (1995). Do infants understand simple
arithmetic? A replication of Wynn (1992). Cognitive Development, 10,
253–269.
Simons, D. J., & Chabris, C. F. (1999). Gorillas in our midst: Sustained inat-
tentional blindness for dynamic events. Perception, 28, 1059–1074.
Simons, D. J., & Levin, D. T. (1998). Failure to detect changes to people in a
real-world interaction. Psychonomic Bulletin and Review, 5, 644–649.
Singer, M. (1994). Discourse inference processes. In M. A. Gernsbacher (Ed.),
Handbook of psycholinguistics (pp. 479–515). San Diego: Academic Press.
Singley, K., & Anderson, J. R. (1989). The transfer of cognitive skill. Cam-
bridge, MA: Harvard University Press.
Sivers, H., Schooler, J., Freyd, J. J. (2002). Recovered memories. In
V. S. Ramachandran (Ed.), Encyclopedia of the human brain (Vol. 4.,
pp 169–184). San Diego, CA, and London: Academic Press.
Skoyles, J. R. (1999). Expertise vs. general problem solving abilities in human
evolution: Reply to Overskeid on brain-expertise. Psycoloquy, 10, 1–14.
Sleeman, D., & Brown, J. S. (Eds.). (1982). Intelligent tutoring systems. New
York: Academic Press.
Smaers, J. B., Steele, J., Case, C. R., Cowper, A., Amunts, K., et al. (2011).
Primate prefrontal cortex evolution: human brains are the extreme of a
lateralized ape trend. Brain, Behavior and Evolution, 77(2), 67–78.
Smith, E. E., & Jonides, J. (1995). Working memory in humans: Neuropsy-
chological evidence. In M. S. Gazzaniga (Ed.), The cognitive neurosciences
(pp. 1009–1020). Cambridge, MA: MIT Press.
Smith, E. E., & Grossman, M. (2008). Multiple systems for category learning.
Neuroscience and Biobehavioral Reviews, 32, 249–264.
Smith, E. E., Patalano, A., & Jonides, J. (1998). Alternative strategies of
categorization. Cognition, 65, 167–196.
Smith, M. (1982). Hypnotic memory enhancement of witnesses: Does it work?
Paper presented at the meeting of the Psychonomic Society, Minneapolis.
Smith, S. M., & Blakenship, S. E. (1989). Incubation effects. Bulletin of the
Psychonomic Society, 27, 311–314.
Smith, S. M., & Blakenship, S. E. (1991). Incubation and the persistence of
fixation in problem solving. American Journal of Psychology, 104, 61–87.
Smith, S. M., Brown, H. O., Toman, J. E. P., & Goodman, L. S. (1947). The
lack of cerebral effects of d-tubercurarine. Anesthesiology, 8, 1–14.
Smith, S. M., Glenberg, A., & Bjork, R. A. (1978). Environmental context
and human memory. Memory & Cognition, 6, 342–353.
Snow, C., & Ferguson, C. (Eds.). (1977). Talking to children: Language input
and acquisition (Papers from a conference sponsored by the Committee on
Sociolinguistics of the Social Science Research Council). New York: Cam-
bridge University Press.
Snyder, K. M., Ashitaka, Y., Shimada, H., Ulrich, J. E., & Logan, G. D.
(2014). What skilled typists don’t know about the QWERTY keyboard.
Attention, Perception, & Psychophysics, 76, 162–171.
Sohn, M.-H., Goode, A., Stenger, V. A, Carter, C. S., & Anderson, J. R.
(2003). Competition and representation during memory retrieval: Roles
of the prefrontal cortex and the posterior parietal cortex. Proceedings of
National Academy of Sciences, USA, 100, 7412–7417.
Spearman, C. (1904). The proof and measurement of association between two
things. American Journal of Psychology, 15, 72–101.
Spelke, E., Hirst, W., & Neisser, U. (1976). Skills of divided attention. Cogni-
tion, 4, 215–230.
Spelke, E. S. (2011). Natural number and natural geometry. In E. Brannon &
S. Dehaene (Eds.), Space, Time and Number in the Brain: Searching for the
Foundations of Mathematical Thought (pp. 287–317). Attention & Perfor-
mance XXIV, Oxford University Press.
Sperling, G. A. (1960). The information available in brief visual presentation.
Psychological Monographs, 74(Whole No. 498).
Sperling, G. A. (1967). Successive approximations to a model for short-term
memory. Acta Psychologica, 27, 285–292.
Spiro, R. J. (1977). Constructing a theory of reconstructive memory: The state
of the schema approach. In R. C. Anderson, R. J. Spiro, & W. E. Montague
(Eds.), Schooling and the acquisition of knowledge (pp. 137–166). Hillsdale,
NJ: Erlbaum.
Squire, L. R. (1987). Memory and brain. New York: Oxford University Press.
Squire, L. R. (1992). Memory and the hippocampus: A synthesis from
findings with rats, monkeys, and humans. Psychological Review, 99,
195–232.
Stanfield, R. A., & Zwaan, R. A. (2001). The effect of implied orientation
derived from verbal context on picture recognition. Psychological Science,
12, 153–156.
Stanovich, K. (2011). Rationality and the reflective mind. Oxford University
Press
Starkey, P., Spelke, E. S., & Gelman, R. (1990). Numerical abstraction by
human infants. Cognition, 36, 97–127.
Stein, B. S., & Bransford, J. D. (1979). Constraints on effective elaboration:
Effects of precision and subject generation. Journal of Verbal Learning and
Verbal Behavior, 18, 769–777.
Stein, N. L., & Trabasso, T. (1981). What’s in a story? Critical issues in com-
prehension and instruction. In R. Glaser (Ed.), Advances in the psychology
of instruction (Vol. 2, pp. 213–268). Hillsdale, NJ: Erlbaum.
Sternberg, R. J. (1977). Intelligence, information processing, and analogical
reasoning. Hillsdale, NJ: Erlbaum.
Sternberg, R. J. (1998). Personal communication.
Sternberg, R. J. (2006). The Rainbow Project: Enhancing the SAT through
assessments of analytical, practical, and creative skills. Intelligence, 34(4),
321–350.
Sternberg, R. J. (2007). Finding students who are wise, practical, and creative.
The Chronicle of Higher Education, 53(44), B11.
Sternberg, R. J., & Gardner, M. K. (1983). Unities in inductive reasoning.
Journal of Experimental Psychology: General, 112, 80–116.
Sternberg, S. (1966). High-speed scanning in human memory. Science, 153,
652–654.
Sternberg, S. (1969). Memory scanning: Mental processes revealed by reac-
tion time experiments. American Scientist, 57, 421–457.
Stevens, A., & Coupe, P. (1978). Distortions in judged spatial relations. Cogni-
tive Psychology, 10, 422–437.
Anderson_8e_Ref.indd 389 13/09/14 10:03 AM
390 / r e f e r e n c e s
Stevens J. K., Emerson R. C., Gerstein G. L., Kallos T., Neufeld G. R., et al.
(1976). Paralysis of the awake human: visual perceptions. Vision Research,
16, 93–98.
Stickgold, R. (2005). Sleep-dependent memory consolidation. Nature,
437(7063), 1272–1278.
Stillings, N. A., Feinstein, M. H., Garfield, J. L., Rissland, E. L., Rosenbaum,
D. A., et al. (1987). Cognitive science: An introduction. Cambridge, MA:
MIT Press.
Stokes, M., Thompson, R., Cusack, R., & Duncan, J. (2009). Top-down acti-
vation of shape-specific population codes in visual cortex during mental
imagery. The Journal of Neuroscience, 29(5), 1565–1572.
Strangman, G., Boas, D. A., & Sutton, J. P. (2002). Non-invasive
neuroimaging using near-infrared light. Biological Psychiatry, 52, 679–693.
Stratton, G. M. (1922). Developing mental power. New York: Houghton Mifflin.
Strayer, D. L., & Drews, F. A. (2007). Cell-phone-induced driver distraction.
Current Directions in Psychological Science, 16, 128–131.
Strohner, H., & Nelson, K. E. (1974). The young child’s development of
sentence comprehension: Influence of event probability, nonverbal con-
text, syntactic form, and strategies. Child Development, 45, 567–576.
Stromswold, K. (2000). The cognitive neuroscience of language acquisition.
In M. Gazzaniga (Ed.), The cognitive neurosciences (2nd ed., pp. 909–932).
Cambridge, MA: MIT Press.
Stroop, J. R. (1935). Studies of interference in serial verbal reactions. Journal
of Experimental Psychology, 18, 643–662.
Studdert-Kennedy, M. (1976). Speech perception. In N. J. Lass (Ed.), Con-
temporary issues in experimental phonetics (pp. 243–293). Springfield, IL:
Charles C. Thomas.
Sulin, R. A., & Dooling, D. J. (1974). Intrusion of a thematic idea in retention
of prose. Journal of Experimental Psychology, 103, 255–262.
Swinney, D. A. (1979). Lexical access during sentence comprehension: (Re)
consideration of context effects. Journal of Verbal Learning and Verbal
Behavior, 18, 645–659.
Szameitat, A. J., Schubert, T., Muller, K., & von Cramon, D. Y. (2002).
Localization of executive functions in dual-task performance with fMRI.
Journal of Cognitive Neuroscience, 14, 1184–1199.
Taatgen, N. A. (2013). The nature and transfer of cognitive skills. Psychological
Review, 120, 439–471.
Talarico, J. M., & Rubin, D. C. (2003). Confidence, not consistency, charac-
terizes flashbulb memories. Psychological Science, 14, 455–461.
Tanaka, J. W., & Farah, M. (1993). Parts and wholes in face recognition.
Quarterly Journal of Experimental Psychology, 46A, 225–245.
Teasdale, J. D., & Russell, M. L. (1983). Differential effects of induced mood
on the recall of positive, negative and neutral words. British Journal of
Clinical Psychology, 22, 163–171.
Terman, L. M., & Merrill, M. A. (1973). Stanford-Binet intelligence scales:
1973 norms edition. Boston: Houghton Mifflin.
Terrace, H. S., Pettito, L. A., Sanders, R. J., & Bever, T. G. (1979). Can an ape
create a sentence? Science, 206, 891–902.
Thelen, E. (2000). Grounded in the world: Developmental origins of the
embodied mind. Infancy, 1, 3–30.
Thomas, E. L., & Robinson, H. A. (1972). Improving reading in every class: A
sourcebook for teachers. Boston: Allyn & Bacon.
Thompson, M. C., & Massaro, D. W. (1973). Visual information and redun-
dancy in reading. Journal of Experimental Psychology, 98, 49–54.
Thompson, W. L., & Kosslyn, S. M. (2000). In A. W. Toga & J. C. Mazziotta
(Eds.), Brain mapping II: The systems (pp. 535–560). San Diego: Academic
Press.
Thorndike, E. L. (1898). Animal intelligence: An experimental study of the
associative processes in animals. Psychological Monographs, 2(Whole No. 8).
Thorndike, E. L. (1906). Principles of teaching. New York: A. G. Seiler.
Thorndyke, P. W., & Hayes-Roth, B. (1982). Differences in spatial knowledge
acquired from maps and navigation. Cognitive Psychology, 14, 560–589.
Thurstone, L. L. (1938). Primary mental abilities. Chicago: University of
Chicago Press.
Tipper, S. P., Driver, J., & Weaver, B. (1991). Object-centered inhibition of
return of visual attention. Quarterly Journal of Experimental Psychology,
43A, 289–298.
Tomasello, M., & Call, J. (1997). Primate cognition. New York: Oxford
University Press.
Tootell, R. B. H., Silverman, M. S., Switkes, E., & DeValois, R. L. (1982).
Deoxyglucose analysis of retinotopic organization in primate striate
cortex. Science, 218, 902–904.
Townsend, D. J., & Bever, T. G. (1982). Natural units interact during language
comprehension. Journal of Verbal Learning and Verbal Behavior, 28,
681–703.
Trabasso, T. R., Rollins, H., & Shaughnessy, E. (1971). Storage and verifica-
tion stages in processing concepts. Cognitive Psychology, 2, 239–289.
Trabasso, T., & Suh, S. (1993). Understanding text: Achieving explanatory
coherence through online inferences and mental operations in working
memory. Discourse Processes, 16(1-2), 3–34.
Treisman, A. M. (1960). Verbal cues, language, and meaning in selective
attention. Quarterly Journal of Experimental Psychology, 12, 242–248.
Treisman, A. M. (1964). Monitoring and storage of irrelevant messages and
selective attention. Journal of Verbal Learning and Verbal Behavior, 3,
449–459.
Treisman, A. M. (1978). Personal communication.
Treisman, A. M., & Geffen, G. (1967). Selective attention: Perception or
response? Quarterly Journal of Experimental Psychology, 19, 1–17.
Treisman, A. M., & Gelade, G. (1980). A feature-integration theory of atten-
tion. Cognitive Psychology, 12, 97–136.
Treisman, A. M., & Riley, J. (1969). Is selective attention selective perception
or selective response? A further test. Journal of Experimental Psychology,
79, 27–34.
Treisman, A. M., & Schmidt, H. (1982). Illusory conjunction in the percep-
tion of objects. Cognitive Psychology, 14, 107–141.
Treves, A., & Rolls, E. T. (1994). A computational analysis of the role of the
hippocampus in memory. Hippocampus, 4, 374–392.
Trueswell, J. C., Tannehaus, M. K., & Garnsey, S. M. (1994). Semantic influ-
ences on parsing: Use of thematic role information in syntactic ambiguity
resolution. Journal of Memory and Language, 33, 285–318.
Tsushima, T., Takizawa, O., Sasaki M., Siraki S., Nishi K., et al. (1994).
Discrimination of English /r-l/ and /w-y/ by Japanese infants at 6–12
months: Language specific developmental changes in speech perception abili-
ties. Paper presented at the International Conference on Spoken Language
Processing 4. Yokohama.
Tulving, E., & Pearlstone, Z. (1966). Availability versus accessibility of
information in memory for words. Journal of Verbal Learning and Verbal
Behavior, 5, 381–391.
Tulving, E., & Thompson, D. M. (1973). Encoding specificity and retrieval
processes in episodic memory. Psychological Review, 80, 352–373.
Turing, A. M. (1950). Computing machinery and intelligence. Mind, 59,
433–460.
Tversky, A., & Kahneman, D. (1974). Judgments under uncertainty: Heuris-
tics and biases. Science, 185, 1124–1131.
Tweney, R. D. (1989). A framework for the cognitive psychology of science. In
B. Gholson, A. Houts, R. A. Neimeyer, & W. Shadish (Eds.), Psychology of
science and metascience (pp. 342–366). Cambridge, England: Cambridge
University Press.
Tyler, R., & Marslen-Wilson, W. (1977). The on-line effects of semantic
context on syntactic processing. Journal of Verbal Learning and Verbal
Behavior, 16, 683–692.
Ullman, S. (1996). High-level vision. Cambridge, MA: MIT Press.
Ullman, S. (2006). Object recognition and segmentation by a fragment-based
hierarchy. Trends in Cognitive Science, 11, 58–64.
Ultan, R. (1969). Some general characteristics of interrogative systems.
Working Papers in Language Universals (Stanford University), 1, 41–63.
Underwood, G. (1974). Moray vs. the rest: The effect of extended shadowing
practice. Quarterly Journal of Experimental Psychology, 26, 368–372.
Anderson_8e_Ref.indd 390 13/09/14 10:03 AM
r e f e r e n c e s / 391
Ungerleider, L. G., & Brody, B. A. (1977). Extrapersonal spatial-orientation:
The role of posterior parietal, anterior frontal and inferotemporal cortex.
Experimental Neurology, 56, 265–280.
Ungerleider, L. G., & Miskin, M. (1982). Two visual pathways. In D. J. Ingle,
M. A. Goodale, & R. J. W. Mansfield (Eds.), Analysis of visual behavior.
(pp. 549–586). Cambridge, MA: MIT Press.
U.S. Department of Justice. (1999). A guide for law enforcement developed
and approved by the Technical Working Group for Eyewitness Evidence.
Retrieved from http://www.ncjrs.org/pdffiles1/nij/178240 .
Vallar, G., & Baddeley, A. D. (1982). Short-term forgetting and the articula-
tory loop. Quarterly Journal of Experimental Psychology, 34, 53–60.
Vallar, G., Di Betta, A. M., & Silveri, M. C. (1997). The phonological short-
term store-rehearsal system: Patterns of impairment and neural correlates.
Neuropsychologia, 35, 795–812.
Van Berkum, J. J. A., Hagoort, P., & Brown, C. M. (1999). Semantic integra-
tion in sentences and discourse: Evidence from the N400. Journal of
Cognitive Neuroscience, 11, 657–671.
Van Essen, D. C., & DeYoe, E. A. (1995). Concurrent processing in the primi-
tive visual cortex. In M. S. Gazzaniga (Ed.), The cognitive neurosciences
(pp. 383–400). Cambridge, MA: MIT Press.
Van Loosbroek, E., & Smitsman, A. W. (1992). Visual perception of numer-
osity in infancy. Developmental Psychology, 26, 916–922.
Van Ravenzwaaij, D., Boekel, W., Forstmann, B. U., Ratcliff, R., & Wagen-
makers, E. J. (2013). Action video games do not improve the speed of
information processing in simple perceptual tasks. Manuscript submitted
for publication.
Vargha-Khadem, F., Watkins, K., Alcock, K., Fletcher, P., & Passingham, R.
(1995). Praxic and nonverbal cognitive deficits in a large family with a
genetically transmitted speech and language disorder. Proceedings of the
National Academy of Sciences, USA, 92, 930–933.
Verde, M. F. (2012). Retrieval-induced forgetting and inhibition: A critical
review. In B. H. Ross (Ed.). Psychology of learning and motivation (Vol. 56,
pp. 47–80). USA: Academic Press.
Verschueren, N., Schaeken, W., & d’Ydewalle, G. (2005). A dual-process
specification of causal conditional reasoning. Thinking & Reasoning, 11(3),
239–278.
Visser, M., Jefferies, E., & Ralph, M. L. (2010). Semantic processing in the
anterior temporal lobes: a meta-analysis of the functional neuroimaging
literature. Journal of Cognitive Neuroscience, 22(6), 1083–1094.
Von Ahn, L., Blum, M., & Langford, J. (2002). Telling humans and comput-
ers apart (automatically). Carnegie Mellon University Tech Report.
Von Frisch, K. (1967). The dance language and orientation of bees. (C. E.
Chadwick, Trans.). Cambridge, MA: Belknap Press.
Von Neumann, J., & Morgenstern, O. (1944). Theory of games and economic
behavior. New York: Wiley.
Wade, K. A., Garry, M., Read, J. D., & Lindsay, D. S. (2002). A picture is
worth a thousand lies: Using false photographs to create false childhood
memories. Psychonomic Bulletin & Review, 9(3), 597–603.
Wade, N. (2003). Early voices: The leap to language. New York Times, July 15, F1.
Wagner, A. D., Bunge, S. A., & Badre, D. (2004). Cognitive control, semantic
memory, and priming: Contributions from prefrontal cortex. In M. S.
Gazzaniga (Ed.), The cognitive neurosciences (3rd ed.). Cambridge, MA:
MIT Press.
Wagner, A. D., Schacter, D. L., Rotte, M., Koutstaal, W., Maril, A., et al.
(1998). Building memories: Remembering and forgetting of verbal experi-
ences as predicted by brain activity. Science, 281, 1188–1191.
Wai, J., Lubinski, D., & Benbow, C. P. (2009). Spatial ability for STEM do-
mains: Aligning over 50 years of cumulative psychological knowledge
solidifies its importance. Journal of Educational Psychology, 101(4), 817.
Walsh, M. M., & Anderson, J. R. (2012). Learning from experience: Event-
related potential correlates of reward processing, neural adaptation, and
behavioral choice. Neuroscience and Biobehavioral Reviews, 36, 1870–1884.
Walsh, M. M. & Anderson, J. R. (2011) Modulation of the feedback-related
negativity by instruction and experience. Proceedings of the National
Academy of Science, USA, 108 (47), 19048–19053.
Wanner, H. E. (1968). On remembering, forgetting, and understanding
sentences: A study of the deep structure hypothesis. Unpublished doctoral
dissertation, Harvard University, Cambridge, MA.
Warren, R. M. (1970). Perceptual restorations of missing speech sounds.
Science, 167, 392–393.
Warren, R. M., & Warren, R. P. (1970). Auditory illusions and confusions.
Scientific American, 223, 30–36.
Warrington, E. K., & Shallice, T. (1984). Category specific semantic impair-
ments. Brain, 197, 829–854.
Washburn, D. A. (1994). Stroop-like effects for monkeys and humans: Pro-
cessing speed or strength of association? Psychological Science, 5, 375–379.
Wason, P. C. (1960). On the failure to eliminate hypotheses in a conceptual
task. Quarterly Journal of Experimental Psychology, 12, 129–140.
Wason, P. C. (1968). On the failure to eliminate hypotheses—A second look.
In P. C. Wason & P. N. Johnson-Laird (Eds.), Thinking and reasoning
(pp. 165–174). Baltimore: Penguin.
Wason, P., & Reich, S. S. (1979). A verbal illusion. Quarterly Journal of
Experimental Psychology, 31, 591–597.
Wasow, T. (1989). Grammatical theory. In M. I. Posner (Ed.), Foundations of
cognitive science (pp. 161–205). Cambridge, MA: MIT Press.
Watkins, M. J., & Tulving, E. (1975). Episodic memory: When recognition
fails. Journal of Experimental Psychology: General, 104, 5–29.
Watson, J. (1930). Behaviorism. New York: W. W. Norton.
Waugh, N. C., & Norman, D. A. (1965). Primary memory. Psychological
Review, 72, 89–104.
Wearing, D. (2011). Forever today: A memoir of love and amnesia. Transworld
Digital.
Weber, E., Böckenholt, U., Hilton, D., & Wallace, B. (1993). Determinants
of diagnostic hypothesis generation: Effects of information, base rates and
experience. Journal of Experimental Psychology: Learning, Memory, and
Cognition, 19, 1151–1164.
Weber-Fox, C., & Neville, H. J. (1996). Maturational constraints on function-
al specializations for language processing: ERP and behavioral evidence in
bilingual speakers. Journal of Cognitive Neuroscience, 8, 231–256.
Weisberg, R. W. (1986). Creativity: Genius and other myths. New York: W. H.
Freeman.
Weiser, M., & Shertz, J. (1983). Programming problem representation in
novice and expert programmers. International Journal of Man-Machine
Studies, 19, 391–398.
Weissman, D. H., Roberts, K. C., Visscher, K. M., & Woldorff, M. G. (2006).
The neural bases of momentary lapses in attention. Nature Neuroscience,
9(7), 971–978.
Wendelken, C., O’Hare, E. D., Whitaker, K. J., Ferrer, E., & Bunge, S. A.
(2011). Increased functional selectivity over development in rostrolateral
prefrontal cortex. Journal of Neuroscience, 31, 17260–17268.
Werker, J. F., & Tees, R. C. (1999). Experiential influences on infant speech
processing: Toward a new synthesis. Annual Review of Psychology, 50,
509–535.
Wertheimer, M. (1912/1932). Experimentelle Studien über das Sehen von
Beuegung. Zeitschrift für Psychologie, 61, 161–265.
Wheeler, D. D. (1970). Processes in word recognition. Cognitive Psychology,
1, 59–85.
Whorf, B. L. (1956). Language, thought, and reality. Cambridge, MA: MIT
Press.
Wickelgren, W. A. (1974). How to solve problems. New York: W. H. Freeman.
Wickelgren, W. A. (1975). Alcoholic intoxication and memory storage
dynamics. Memory & Cognition, 3, 385–389.
Whitaker, C. F. (1990). [Letter]. Ask Marilyn column. Parade Magazine, 16.
Wikman, A. S., Nieminen, T., & Summala, H. (1998). Driving experience
and time-sharing during in-car tasks on roads of different width.
Ergonomics, 41, 358–372.
Windes, J. D. (1968). Reaction time for numerical coding and naming
numerals. Journal of Experimental Psychology, 78, 318–322.
Anderson_8e_Ref.indd 391 13/09/14 10:03 AM
http://www.ncjrs.org/pdffiles1/nij/178240
392 / r e f e r e n c e s
Winston, P. H. (1970). Learning structural descriptions from examples (Tech.
Rep. No. 231). Cambridge, MA: MIT, AI Laboratory.
Wittwer, J., & Renkl, A. (2010). How effective are instructional explana-
tions in example-based learning? A meta-analytic review. Educational
Psychology Review, 22, 393–409.
Wixted, J. T., & Ebbesen, E. B. (1991). On the form of forgetting.
Psychological Science, 2, 409–415.
Woldorff, M. G., Gallen, C. C., Hampson, S. A., Hillyard, S. A., Pantev, C.,
et al. (1993). Modulation of early sensory processing in human auditory
cortex during auditory selective attention. Proceedings of the National
Academy of Sciences, USA, 90, 8722–8726.
Wolfe, J. M. (1994). Guided search 2.0: A revised model of visual search.
Psychonomic Bulletin and Review, 1, 202–238.
Woodrow, H. (1927). The effect of the type of training upon transference.
Journal of Educational Psychology, 18, 159–172.
Woodworth, R. S., & Sells, S. B. (1935). An atmospheric effect in formal
syllogistic reasoning. Journal of Experimental Psychology, 18, 451–460.
Wurtz, R. H., Goldberg, M. E., & Robinson, D. L. (1980). Behavioral modu-
lation of visual responses in the monkey: Stimulus selection for attention
and movement. Progress in Psychobiology, Physiology and Psychology, 9,
43–83.
Wynn, K. (1992). Addition and subtraction by human infants. Nature, 358,
749–750.
Yin, R. K. (1969). Looking at upside-down faces. Journal of Experimental
Psychology, 81, 141–145.
Zaehle, T., Jordan, K., Wüstenberg, T., Baudewig, J., Dechent, P., et al.
(2007). The neural basis of the egocentric and allocentric spatial frame of
reference. Brain Research, 1137, 92–103.
Zatorre, R. J., Mondor, T. A. & Evans, A. C. (1999). Auditory attention to
space and frequency activates similar cerebral systems. Neuroimage, 10,
544–554.
Zorzi, M., Priftis, K., Meneghello, F., Marenzi, R., & Umiltà, C. (2006).
The spatial representation of numerical and non-numerical sequences:
evidence from neglect. Neuropsychologia, 44(7), 1061–1067.
Zwaan, R. A. (1996). Processing narrative time shifts. Journal of Experimental
Psychology: Learning, Memory, and Cognition, 22(5), 1196.
Zwaan, R. A., & Radvansky, G. A. (1998). Situation models in language
comprehension and memory. Psychological Bulletin, 123(2), 162.
Anderson_8e_Ref.indd 392 13/09/14 10:03 AM
393
Name Index
A
Aaronson, D., 315
ABC Research Group, 270
Abelson, R., 116
Abramson, A., 45, 46
Adams, M. J., 100
Adolphs, R. D., 243n
Ahmad, M., 142
Ainsworth-Darnell, K., 322–323
Albert, M. L., 65
Albrecht, J. E., 336
Albright, T. D., 13
Alcock, K., 300
Allison, T., 42
Allopenna, P. D., 317–318
Alpermann, A., 325
Alpert, N. M., 83, 320
Alvarez, G. A., 99
Anderson, A. W., 42
Anderson, J. R., 22–23, 69, 70,
81, 93, 118, 119, 133, 137,
141, 155, 156, 157, 158, 160,
161, 179, 188, 197, 198, 211,
216, 220, 228, 232, 233,
273, 277
Anderson, M. C., 159, 160
Anderson, S. W., 279
Angell, J. R., 229
Antell, S., 345
Aristotle, 1, 4, 247, 297
Armstrong, E., 16
Arndt, D. R., 93
Arndt, J., 177
Arrington, C. M., 69
Aryal, S., 121
Asanuma, C., 18
Ashby, F. G., 119
Ashitaka, Y., 175
Asimov, I., 236
Atkinson, R. C., 127
Attneave, F., 8
Atwood, M. E., 193, 194,
202, 220
Austin, G. A., 252–253, 254
Ausubel, D. P., 142
B
Baars, B. J., 290
Baddeley, A. D., 85, 129, 130,
131, 132, 170
Badgaiyan, R. D., 177
Badre, D., 129
Bahrick, H. P., 151
Bangert-Downs, R., 232
Barbey, A., 107
Barbey, A. K., 267
Barbizet, J., 174
Barclay, J. R., 161
Barnes, C. A., 139
Barnett, T., 127
Barsalou, L. W., 106, 107
Bartlett, F., 7
Barton, R. A., 27
Bassok, M., 190, 200
Bates, A., 127, 321
Baudry, M., 14
Bavaresco, J. L., 170
Bavelier, D., 230, 231
Baylis, G. C., 42
Bechar, A., 243n, 279
Beck, B. B., 198
Becklen, R., 59
Beese, U., 295
Behrmann, M., 65, 67, 69
Beilock, S. L., 337
Beiring, E., 40, 41
Bell, M. A., 341
Bellugi, U., 300
Benbow, C. P., 363
Benson, D. F., 27
Bering, J. M., 339
Berkeley, G., 4, 118
Berlin, B., 296
Berry, D. C., 177
Bethard, S., 37
Betts, S., 81
Bever, T. G., 292, 321n
Beyth-Marom, R., 255, 280
Biederman, I., 40, 41, 50
Bigelow, H. J., 261
Bilalić, M., 225
Binder, J. R., 98
Binet, A., 353
Birnbaum, I. M., 171
Bjork, R. A., 145, 169, 175
Bjorklund, D. F., 339
Black, J. B., 116–117, 164
Blackburn, J. M., 138
Blakely, D. P., 230
Blakenship, S. E., 205
Blanchette, I., 188
Blickle, T., 40, 41
Bloom, B. S., 228, 233
Blum, M., 37
Boas, D. A., 22
Böckenholt, U., 267
Boden, M., 226
Boekel, W., 231
Boer, L. C., 92
Boland, J. E., 322–323
Bolstad, C. A., 187
Boot, W. R., 230
Boring, E. G., 229
Boroditsky, L., 312
Bouchard, T. J., 355
Bourne, L. E., 253
Bower, G. H., 102–103,
116–117, 141, 164, 170, 266,
267, 335
Bownds, M. D., 339
Bradshaw, G. L., 2, 160, 161
Brady, T. F., 99
Brainerd, C. J., 342
Bransford, J. D., 102, 105–106,
107, 141, 142, 161
Brewer, J. B., 140
Brewer, W. F., 113–114
Bridle, O., 89
Broadbent, D. E., 8, 55, 56,
127, 177
Broca, P., 282
Brodmann, K., 15
Brody, B. A., 31
Brooks, D. J., 218
Brooks, L. R., 84–85
Brown, H. O., 295
Brown, J. S., 233
Brown, R., 146
Bruce, C. J., 13, 132
Bruner, J. S., 252–253, 254, 342
Brunstein, A., 270n
Buchanan, M., 130
Buchel, C., 238, 247
Buck, C., 166
Buckner, R. L., 140
Bukstel, L., 223
Bullemer, P., 178
Bunge, S. A., 129, 191
Burgess, N., 90, 93, 130
Burgess, P. W., 261
Burke, K. A., 330
Burns, H. J., 165
Bursztein, E., 37
Buschkuehl, M., 230
Butler, A. C., 143
Byrne, M. D., 69, 70
Byrne, R. M., 241
C
Caan, W., 13
Cabeza, R., 168, 169
Cahill, L., 97
Call, J., 191
Calvanio, R., 89
Camden, C. T., 290
Camerer, C., 277
Camp, G., 160
Cannizzo, S. R., 350
Caplan, D., 316, 320
Caramazza, A., 121
Carey, D. P., 31
Carey, S., 120, 302
Carpenter, P. A., 317, 318,
324–325, 332, 333, 361,
362, 363
Carpenter, T. P., 229
Carr, T. H., 69
Carraher, D. W., 229
Carraher, T. N., 229
Carroll, J. B., 358
Carter, C. S., 23, 157, 198
Case, R., 347–348
Casey, B. J., 75
Cattell, R. B., 358
Cave, K. R., 67
Ceci, S. J., 354
Chabris, C. F., 64
Chambers, D., 86
Chance, J. E., 102
Chang, F. R., 332
Chaote, L. S., 67
Charness, N., 223, 226, 236
Chase, W. G., 210, 223–224,
227, 229, 333–334, 361
Chater, N., 242, 244–245
Chelazzi, L., 64
Chen, Z., 67
Cheng, P. W., 243, 246
Cherkassky, V. L., 121
Cherry, E. C., 55
Chi, M. T. H., 190, 221, 222, 349
Chomsky, C., 302
Chomsky, N., 8, 44, 285–286,
294, 299, 308–309
Chooi, W. T., 230
Christen, F., 145
Christensen, B. T., 188
Christiaansen, R. E., 162
Christianson, K., 337
Christoff, K., 191
Chun, M. M., 42, 77
Church, A., 247
Cicero, 145
Clark, E. V., 45, 302
Clark, H. H., 45, 312, 331,
333–334, 361
Clayton, N. S., 228
Clifton, C., Jr., 318, 327
Cohen, J. D., 3, 251,
275–276, 277
Cohen, J. T., 72
Cohen, M. R., 247
Cohen, N. J., 146
Cohen, Y., 65
Cole, M., 342, 354
Coles, M.G., 277
Collins, A. M., 110–111
Colvin, M. K., 261
Conant, L. L., 98
Conrad, C., 111
Conrad, F. G., 233
Conrad, R., 130
Conway, M. A., 146
Cooper, L. A., 176
Cooper, W. E., 288
Corbett, A. T., 3, 233, 332
Corbetta, M., 54
Corbit, J., 46
Cosmides, L., 244
Coupe, P., 94, 95
Anderson_8e_NI.indd 393 13/09/14 10:02 AM
394 / N a m e I N d e x
Cowan, G. N., Jr., 127
Cowan, N., 133
Cowart, W., 321n
Cox, J. R., 243
Craighero, L., 108
Craik, F. I. M., 128, 141
Crick, F. H. C., 18
Crossman, E. R. F. W., 138, 213
Crowder, R. G., 127
Curran, T., 178
Currie, C. B., 50
Cusack, R., 81
D
Damasio, A. R., 243n, 260, 279
Damasio, H., 243n, 260, 279
D’Andrade, R., 342
Daneman, M., 361
Darley, J. M., 275–276
Darwin, G. J., 127
Daugherty, K. G., 304
Davidoff, J., 297
Davidson, B. J., 58
Davidson, J., 360
Davies, I., 297
Davies, S., 158
Daw, N. D., 186–187
Dayan, P., 186–187, 277
Dean, J., 165
De Beer, G. R., 339
DeBoom, D., 92
Deese, J., 167
De Groot, A. D., 223
De Groot, A. M. B., 104
Dehaene, S., 345, 346
Delaney, S. M., 176
DeLeonardis, D. M., 169
Delgado, M. R., 147
De Neys, W., 257
Dennett, D., 78
Desai, R. H., 98
Descartes. R., 4, 10, 293
Desimone, R., 13, 64
Desmond, J. E., 140
Deutsch, D., 56, 57
Deutsch, J. A., 56, 57
De Valois, R. L., 18, 296
Devesocvi, A., 321
DeWeerd, P., 64
DeYoe, E. A., 32
Diamond, A., 131, 341, 342
Di Betta, A. M., 130
Dickens, W. T., 355
Dickstein, L. S., 250
Diehl, R. L., 47
DiGirolamo, G., 83
Dinkel, M., 295
Dinstein, L., 3
Dodson, C. S., 169
Dolan, R., 238, 247
Dooling, D. J., 162
Doris, J., 354
Dostrovsky, J., 93
Downing, P., 59
Drazen, P., 3
Drews, F. A., 72
Dreyfus, H., 226
Driver, J., 67, 68
Dronkers, N., 282
Dubner, S. J., 236
Duchon, A., 91
Dudchenko, P., 173
Dueck, A., 102–103
Duffy, S., 318
Dunbar, K., 73, 74–75, 188, 255,
256, 257
Duncan, J., 81
Duncker, K., 188, 190, 202
Dunning, D., 109
E
Easton, R. D., 92
Ebbesen, E. B., 151
Edwards, W., 265–266
Egan, D. E., 223
Egly, R., 68
Ehrlich, K., 332
Eich, E., 170, 171
Eich, J., 171
Eichenbaum, H., 173
Eimas, P. D., 46
Ekstrand, B. R., 158
Ekstrom, A. D., 93
Elbert, T., 228
Elio, R., 119
Ellis, A. W., 28, 65
Enard, W., 300
Engle, R. W., 223, 230
Erickson, T. A., 337
Ericsson, A., 236
Ericsson, K. A., 133, 227, 228,
229, 233
Eriksson, L., 88
Ernst, G., 196
Ervin-Tripp, S. M., 306
Evans, A. C., 57, 66
Evans, J. St. B. T., 241, 242,
250, 257
F
Fabry, C., 37
Faraday, M., 256
Farah, M. J., 27, 42, 86, 89,
120, 121
Farley, F., 276
Farrell, R., 220
Farrelly, D., 257
Feltovich, P. J., 221, 222
Ferer, E., 191
Ferguson, C., 305
Ferguson, C. J., 231
Fernandez, A., 170
Ferreira, F., 320, 324, 327, 337
Ferris, J. L., 81
Fincham, J. M., 81, 198, 199
Fink, A., 364
Fink, G. R., 66
Finke, R. A., 86
Fischer, K. W., 347
Fischhoff, B., 255, 276, 280
Fisher, R. P., 170
Fitts, P. M., 211, 216
Flavell, J. H., 342, 348, 350
Flege, J., 306–307
Fletcher, P., 300
Flynn, J. R., 351, 355
Fodor, J. A., 299
Foltz, P. W., 312
Foo, P., 91
Foorman, B. R., 3
Forstmann, B. U., 231
Forward, S., 166
Foss, D. J., 319
Fox, C., 146
Fox, P. T., 21
Fox Tree, J. E., 312
Frackowiak, R. S. J., 218
Frank, R., 260
Franklin, R., 364
Franks, J. J., 105–106, 107, 161
Frase, L. T., 142, 143
Freyd, J. J., 167
Friberg, L., 79
Frick, A., 364
Friedman-Hill, S., 64
Frisch, S., 325
Frith, C., 238, 247
Frith, C. D., 130, 261
Fromkin, V., 288
Fugelsang, J., 257
Fuller, N. J., 89
Funahashi, S., 132
Fuster, J. M., 182
G
Gabrieli, J. D. E., 91, 125,
140, 215
Gage, P., 260–261, 278
Galaburda, A. M., 260
Galindo, M., 231
Gardiner, J. M., 172n
Gardner, B. T., 292
Gardner, H., 18
Gardner, M. K., 359
Gardner, R. A., 292
Garner, W., 8
Garnsey, S. M., 327
Garrett, M. F., 288, 289
Garro, L., 297n
Garry, M., 166, 167
Garza, A., 231
Gates, S., 232
Gauthier, I., 42
Gay, J., 354
Gazzaniga, M. S., 198, 282
Geary, D. C., 347
Gee, J. P., 288
Geffen, G., 57
Geiselman, E. R., 170
Geison, G. L., 256
Gelade, G., 62, 63
Gelman, R., 345
Gelman, S. A., 120
Geng, J. J., 65
Gentner, D., 188, 189
Georgopoulos, A. P., 83
Geschwind, N., 338
Gibson, E. J., 37
Gibson, J. J., 33
Gick, M. L., 189, 190
Gigerenzer, G., 244, 267,
270–271, 280
Gilbert, S. J., 261
Gilligan, S. G., 170
Gillin, J. C., 171
Gilmartin, K., 224
Gilsky, M. L., 86
Ginsburg, H. J., 342
Glaser, R., 190, 221, 222
Glass, A. L., 50
Gleitman, H., 305
Gleitman, L. R., 305
Glenberg, A. M., 108, 128, 129n,
169, 170
Glick, J., 354
Glover, G. H., 140 , 278
Gluck, M. A., 266, 267
Glucksberg, S., 115, 127
Gneezy, U., 364
Godden, D. R., 170
Goel, V., 181, 198, 238, 246,
247, 257
Goldberg, N., 218n
Goldberg, R. A., 360
Golding, J. M., 330
Goldin-Meadow, S., 305
Goldman-Rakic, P. S.,
131, 132
Goldstein, A. G., 102
Goldstein, D. G., 270–271
Goldstein, M. N., 44
Goldstone, R. L., 46
Goldvarg, Y., 258
Golomb, J. D., 77
Goodale, M. A., 31
Goode, A., 157
Goodman, L. S., 295
Goodnow, J. J., 252–253, 254
Gore, J. C., 42
Gould, E., 351
Gould, S. J., 339
Grabowski, T., 260
Graesser, A. C., 329, 330
Graf, P., 175, 315
Grafman, J., 181, 198, 261
Graham, J. D., 72
Granrud, C. E., 35
Graves, W. W., 98
Gray, J. A., 56
Gray, M. M., 158
Gray, P., 177
Gray, W. D., 3
Green, C., 128, 159
Green, C. S., 230, 231
Greenberg, J. H., 298
Greenberg, J. P., 27
Greenblatt, R., 226
Greene, J. D., 275–276
Greeno, J. G., 193, 217
Griffin, B. A., 233
Anderson_8e_NI.indd 394 13/09/14 10:02 AM
N a m e I N d e x / 395
Griggs, R. A., 243
Grodd, W., 225
Gron, G., 93
Grosjean, F., 288
Grosjean, L., 288
Gross, C. G., 13, 228, 351
Grossman, M., 119
Gugerty, L., 92
Guilford, J. P., 358
Gunzelmann, G., 93
Guskey, T. R., 232
Guynn, M. J., 170
H
Ha, Y.-W., 255
Haesler, S., 300
Hager, L. D., 198
Haier, R. J., 363
Hakala, C. M., 336
Hakes, D. T., 319
Halford, G. S., 190, 347
Halle, M., 44
Halliwell, J., 337
Hammerton, M., 265
Hammond, K. M., 89
Hanada, M., 44
Handley, S. J., 250, 257
Hari, R., 127
Harley, C., 257
Harlow, J. M., 261
Harper, C., 250
Harris, R. J., 166
Harsch, N., 146
Hart, R. A., 89
Hartley, T., 90
Hastie, R., 261
Hattori, H., 44
Hauk, O., 108
Haviland, S. E., 331
Haxby, J. V., 42
Hayes, C., 292
Hayes, J., 227
Hayes, J. R., 198, 210, 263
Hayes-Roth, B., 90, 118
Hayes-Roth, F., 118
Haygood, R. C., 253
Healy, A. F., 100
Heath, S. B., 305
Heider, E., 296
Heinz, S. P., 57
Henderson, J. M., 324
Hendrickson, A. T., 46
Henkel, L. A., 169
Henson, R. N., 130, 142
Heron, C., 198
Herrmann, D. J., 222
Hespos, S. J., 345
Hicks, K. L., 230
Hikosaka, O., 178
Hilgard, E. R., 170
Hillyard, S. A., 21, 58, 60,
64, 322
Hilton, D., 267
Hintzman, D. L., 93
Hirshman, E., 177
Hirst, W., 72, 147
Hirtle, S. C., 223
Hockett, C. F., 291
Hockey, G. R. J., 158
Hoffman, D. D., 35
Hoffman, M., 364
Hoffrage, U., 267
Holcomb, P. J., 322
Holding, D. H., 236
Holland, H. L., 170
Hollingworth, A., 337
Holmes, J. B., 106
Holt, L. L., 47
Holyoak, K. J., 189, 190, 200,
243, 246
Holyroyd, C. B., 277
Horn, J. L., 358
Horton, J. C., 32
Hubel, D. H., 31, 32
Huddleston, E., 160
Hug, K., 244
Hume, D., 4
Hunt, E. B., 356–357, 360,
361–362
Hunter, J. E., 355, 364
Hunter, R. F., 364
Huttenlocher, P. R., 344
Hyams, N. M., 311
Hyde, T. S., 144
I
Iacoboni, M., 109
Ifrah, G., 347
Impedovo, S., 38
Ishai, A., 42
Ivry, R. B., 198, 282
J
Jacob, F., 256
Jacobs, G. H., 296
Jacobsen, C. F., 131
Jacoby, L. L., 176
Jaeger, J. J., 304
Jaeggi, S. M., 230
Jakab, E., 160
Jakobson, L. S., 31
James, W., 6, 73, 76
Janer, K. W., 75
Jarvella, R. J., 316
Jefferies, E., 98
Jeffries, R. P., 193, 220
Jenkins, I. H., 218
Jenkins, J. C., 92
Jenkins, J. J., 144
Jerabeck, J., 231
Jernigan, T. L., 300
Jessell, T. M., 30
John, B. E., 3
Johnson, D. M., 86
Johnson, J. D., 151
Johnson, J. S., 306
Johnson, M. K., 102, 169
Johnson-Laird, P. N., 249,
250–251, 258
Johnsrude, I., 108
Johnston, W. A., 57
Jones, L., 75
Jonides, J., 119, 130, 131, 230
Ju, G., 40, 41
Jung-Beeman, M., 207
Jurafsky, D., 37
Just, M. A., 3, 121, 314, 317,
318, 324–325, 332, 333, 361,
362, 363
K
Kahn, I., 139, 140
Kahneman, D., 3, 264, 268, 269,
273, 274, 280
Kail, R., 348
Kana, R. K., 3
Kandel, E. R., 14, 30
Kant, I., 4
Kanwisher, N. J., 42 , 59, 62,
87–88
Kaplan, C. A., 136, 199, 206
Kaplan, M., 351
Kapur, S., 129
Karadi, Z., 178
Karam, R., 233
Karlin, M. B., 102–103
Karpicke, J. D., 143
Kasparov, G., 226
Kastner, S., 64
Kaufman, M., 278
Kay, P., 296
Keating, D. P., 345
Keeney, T. J., 350
Keeton, W. T., 30
Keller, H., 162
Keller, T. A., 3, 324–325
Kellogg, L. A., 292
Kellogg, W. N., 292
Kemp, C., 298, 299
Kepler, J., 2
Keppel, G., 155
Kieras, D. E., 232
Kihlstrom, J. F., 86
Kinney, G. C., 38, 45
Kintsch, W., 105, 133, 334–335
Kirsh, D., 87
Klahr, D., 255
Klapp, S. T., 218
Klatzky, R. L., 3, 56
Klayman, J., 255
Knight, R., 282
Knutson, B., 278
Knuutila, J., 127
Koedinger, K. R., 33, 233
Koestler, A., 188
Köhler, W., 7, 182, 192
Kolers, P. A., 213, 214
Konkle, T., 99
Körkel, J., 349–350
Kosslyn, S. M., 83, 88, 89
Kotovsky, K., 198
Koutstaal, W., 177
Krampe, R. T., 228
Krause, J., 300
Kroger, J. K., 251
Kroll, J. F., 104
Kubrick, S., 313
Kuffler, S. W., 31
Kuhl, P. K., 47
Kulik, C., 232
Kulik, J., 146, 232
Kusbit, G. W., 337
Kushmerick, N., 197
Kutas, M., 21, 322
L
Labov, W., 115
Laham, D., 312
Laibson, D. L., 277
Lakoff, G., 285
Lamb, M. R., 66
Lamme, V. A. F., 61
Landauer, T. K., 312
Lane, H., 288
Langford, J., 37
Langley, P. W., 2
Langner, R., 225
Lansman, M., 360
Larkin, J. H., 219, 220
Lawrence, K. A., 145
Lea, G., 255
Lebiere, C., 197
Lee, D. W., 228
Lee, H. S., 188
Lehman, H. G.,
351–352
Leinbach, J., 304
Lena, M. L., 261n
Lenneberg, E. H., 344
Leonard, C. M., 42
LePort, A. K., 97
Lesgold, A., 222
Levin, D. T., 51
Levine, D. N., 89
Levitt, S. D., 236
Lewis, C. H., 157, 158
Lewis, M. W., 190, 246
Liberman, A. M., 47
Lieberman, P., 306
Lincoln, A., 246, 287–288
Lindauer, B. K., 350
Linden, E., 293
Lindsay, D. S., 166, 167
Lindsay, P. H., 29, 55
Lindsay, R. O., 220
Lisker, L., 45, 46
List, J. A., 364
Liu, J., 59
Liu, S., 306–307
Livingstone, M., 32
Lock, T., 170
Locke, J., 4, 118
Lockhart, R. S., 128, 141
Loewenstein, G., 277
Loftus, E. F., 3, 165, 166, 331
Logan, G. D., 175, 218
Lombardi, L., 133
Long, D. L., 330
Lotto, A. J., 47
Lubinski, D., 363
Anderson_8e_NI.indd 395 13/09/14 10:02 AM
396 / N a m e I N d e x
Luchins, A. S., 202, 203, 204
Luchins, E. H., 202
Luck, S. J., 60, 64
Lucy, J., 297n
Luria, A. R., 7
Lurito, J. T., 83
Lutz, M. F., 336
Lynch, G., 14
Lynn, S. J., 170
Lyons, I. M., 337
M
MacDonald, M. C., 304
Mach, E., 52
MacKay, D. G., 290
Mackinnon, D. P., 170
Maclay, H., 288
MacLeod, C. M., 73, 74–75,
176n, 361–362
Macmillan, M., 261
MacWhinney, B., 304, 321
Maddox, W. T., 119
Maglio, P., 87
Magnuson, J. S., 317–318
Maguire, E. A., 90, 93, 228
Maier, N. R. F., 201–202
Maisog, J. M., 42
Malik, M. J., 37
Mandler, G., 175
Mandler, J. M., 100, 101, 109
Mangun, G. R., 60, 198, 282
Manktelow, K., 258
Marcus, G. F., 304
Marenzi, R., 66
Marler, P., 292
Marmie, W. R., 100
Marr, D., 34, 39, 40, 51
Marsetta, M., 38, 45
Marsh, E. J., 143
Marslen-Wilson, W., 304, 321
Martin, A., 42, 120
Martin, R. C., 320
Martinez, A., 66
Martorella, E. A., 147
Mason, R. A., 314n, 324–325
Massaro, D. W., 43n, 46, 48–49
Massey, J. T., 83
Masson, M. E. J., 176n
Mattarella-Micke, A., 337
Matteson, M. E., 337
Matthews, N. N., 361–362
Mattingly, I. G., 47
Mayer, A., 4
Mayer, A. R., 69, 168, 169
Mayer, M. D., 170
Mazard, S. L., 89
Mazoyer, B. M., 13
McCaffrey, D. F., 233
McCaffrey, T., 202
McCarthy, G., 42
McCarthy, J., 2
McCarthy, R., 177
McClelland, J. L., 120, 121,
303–304
McCloskey, M., 115, 146
McClure, S. M., 277
McConkie, G. W., 50
McDaniel, M. A., 142
McDermott, J., 42
McDermott, K. B., 167
McDonald, J. L., 319
McDuff, S. G., 151
McGaugh, J. L., 97, 147
McGue, M., 355
McKeithen, K. B., 223
McLaughlin, B., 306
McNeil, B. J., 274
McNeill, D., 305
McNew, S., 321
McRae, K., 328
Medin, D. L., 118, 119
Mednick, S. A., 207
Meneghello, F., 66
Merrill, M. A., 353
Messner, M., 295
Metcalfe, J., 170, 171, 206
Metzler, J., 82, 83
Meyer, D. E., 135, 136
Middleton, F. A., 178
Miikkulainen, R., 121
Mill, J. S., 4
Miller, D. G., 165
Miller, G. A., 8, 44
Milner, A. D., 31
Milner, B., 175
Milner, P., 277
Mishkin, M., 28
Mitchell, J. C., 37
Mitchell, T. M., 81, 121
Mithen, S., 292
Miyachi, S., 178
Miyasato, L. E., 228
Miyashita, K., 178
Molaison, H. G., 173n
Moll, M., 121
Mondor, T. A., 57, 66
Monod, J., 256
Montague, P. R., 277
Monteiro, K. P., 170
Moore, G. I., 89
Morasch, K. C., 341
Moray, N., 55, 72, 127
Morgenstern, O., 272
Mori, G., 37
Morley, R., 93
Morrison, D. F., 3
Moser, J. M., 229
Motley, M. T., 290
Moyer, R. S., 85, 86
Mozer, M. C., 67
Muller, K., 75
Muncher, E., 232
Murray, J. D., 330
Myers, B., 170
N
Näätänen, R., 127
Nagel, E., 247
Nakayama, K., 42
Neisser, U., 8, 59, 62, 72, 146,
165, 356
Nelson, D. L., 141
Nelson, K. E., 320
Nelson, T. O., 144, 151
Neubauer, A. C., 364
Neves, D. M., 212
Neville, H. J., 307, 308
Newcombe, F., 28
Newcombe, N. S., 364
Newell, A., 8, 138, 183, 194, 195,
196, 224, 364
Newport, E. L., 305, 306, 308
Newstead, S. E., 257
Nicely, P., 44
Nickerson, R. S., 100, 256
Nida, E. A., 306
Nieder, A., 346
Nieminen, T., 72
Nilsson, L.-G., 172n
Nilsson, N. J., 2, 185, 193
Nisbett, R. E., 246, 355
Nishihara, H. K., 40
Nishimoto, S., 81
Nissen, M. J., 58, 65, 178
Niv, Y., 186–187
Nixon, P. D., 218
Noble, E. P., 171
Noelting, G., 347
Norman, D. A., 29, 55, 127
Norman, K. A., 151
Norvig, P., 237
Nosofsky, R. M., 118, 119
Nusbaum, H.C., 337
Nyquist, L., 351
Nystrom, L. E., 251, 275–276
O
Oaksford, M., 242, 244–245
Oates, J. M., 102
O’Brien, E. J., 336
O’Craven, K. M., 59, 87–88
O’Dell, C. S., 93
Oden, D. L., 190, 191
O’Doherty, J. P., 277
Ogden, W. C., 58, 65
O’Hare, E. D., 191
Ohlsson, S., 236
Ohm, G. S., 2
Okada, S., 44
Okada, T., 258
O’Keefe, J., 93
Olds, J., 277
Oliva, A., 99
Oliver, L. M., 246
Olivieri, A., 320
Opper, S., 342
Orcutt, K. M., 89
Orth, I., 4
Ortony, A., 112
Osgood, C. E., 288
Osherson, D., 251
Osterhout, L., 322
O’Sullivan, G., 177
Otaka, S. R., 170
Otten, L. J., 142
Over, D. E., 242
Owens, J., 164
Oyama, S., 306
P
Paccia-Cooper, J., 288
Paivio, A., 106
Paller, K. A., 140
Palmer, S. E., 35, 146
Pane, J. F., 233
Pantev, C., 228
Pardo, J. V., 75
Pardo, P. J., 75
Paris, S. C., 350
Park, G., 177
Park, Y., 348
Parker, E. S., 97, 171
Parsons, L. M., 251
Pascual-Leone, J., 65, 347
Passannante, A., 177
Passingham, R., 300
Passingham, R. E., 218
Pasteur, L., 256
Patalano, A., 119
Pauker, S. G., 274
Pavia, W., 328
Payne, D. G., 170
Pearlstone, Z., 169
Pecher, D., 160
Pelec, D., 277
Penfield, W., 150
Perfetti, C. A., 3
Perkins, P. N., 214
Perlmutter, M., 351
Perrett, D. I., 13
Perrig, W. J., 230
Pesetsky, D., 3
Petersen, A. S., 304
Peterson, M. A., 86, 176
Peterson, R., 278
Peterson, S. B., 158
Peterson, S. E., 21
Petrides, M., 83
Pettito, L. A., 292
Phelps, E. A., 147, 178
Phillips, W., 312
Piaget, J., 7, 340–341, 342,
343, 345
Pickerall, J., 166
Picton, T. W., 58
Pillsbury, W. B., 229
Pinker, S., 86, 294, 304
Pirolli, P. L., 137
Pisoni, D. B., 47
Plato, 4
Pohl, W., 31
Poincaré, H., 204
Poldrack, R. A., 215
Polson, P. G., 193, 194, 202,
220, 232
Polster, M., 177
Pope, K. S., 166
Posner, M. I., 21, 58–59, 65, 67,
75, 211, 216
Postle, B. R., 132
Potter, M. C., 133
Potts, G. R., 158
Pouget, A., 230
Premack, A. J., 292
Premack, D., 190, 191, 292
Anderson_8e_NI.indd 396 13/09/14 10:02 AM
N a m e I N d e x / 397
Press, J. H., 347
Pressley, M., 142
Priest, A. G., 220
Priftis, K., 66
Prince, A., 304
Pritchard, R. M., 39
Puce, A., 42
Pulvermuller, F., 108
Pylyshyn, Z. W., 78
Q
Qin, Y., 22–23, 211, 246
Quillian, M. R., 110–111
R
Raaijmakers, J. G., 160
Rabinowitz, M., 218n
Radvansky, G. A., 335, 336
Rafal, R. D., 65, 66, 67, 68
Raichle, M. E., 21, 75
Raj, V. R., 341
Rajaram, S., 106
Ralph, M. L., 98
Ramos, R., 231
Rand, M. K., 178
Rao, S. M., 69, 168, 169
Ratcliff, G., 28
Ratcliff, R., 231
Raymond, C. R., 153, 154
Rayner, K., 3, 317, 332
Razran, L., 193
Read, J. D., 166, 167
Reder, L. M., 102, 162–163, 164,
228, 337
Redfern, B., 282
Redick, T. S., 230
Redman, S. J., 153, 154
Reed, S. K., 118, 187, 190
Regier, T., 298, 299
Reich, S. S., 320
Reicher, G., 47
Reichle, E. D., 362, 363
Reid, T., 229
Reisberg, D., 86
Reiser, B. J., 233
Reitman, J. S., 223
Renkl, A., 188
Reyna, V. F., 276
Richards, W., 35
Richardson-Klavehn, A., 175
Riemann, P., 190
Riepe, M. W., 93
Rif, J., 127
Riley, J., 57
Rinck, M., 335
Ritchey, G. H., 100, 101, 109
Rizzella, M. L., 336
Rizzolatti, G., 108
Roberson, D., 297
Roberts, K. C., 75
Roberts, R. J., 198
Robertson, L. C., 64, 66
Robinson, G. H., 268
Robinson, H. A., 143
Rochat, P., 345
Rockstroh, B., 228
Roediger, H. L., 143, 167, 170
Roelfsema, P. R., 61
Roland, P. E., 79, 88
Rollins, H., 333
Rolls, E. T., 13, 42, 121
Romstock, J., 295
Roozendaal, B., 147
Roring, R. W., 236
Rosch, E., 114, 296, 298
Rose, P. M., 86
Rosenbloom, P. S., 138
Ross, B. H. 163, 164, 190
Ross, J., 145
Rossi, S., 22
Rothbart, M. K., 75
Rottschy, C., 132, 133
Rubin, D. C., 146, 147
Rueter, H. H., 223
Rugg, M. D., 142, 151
Ruiz, D., 197
Rumelhart, D. E., 48, 112,
303–304
Rundus, D. J., 128
Russell, M. L., 171
Russell, S., 237
Rutherford, E., 188
S
Saddy, D., 325
Saffran, E. M., 120
Safren, M. A., 204
Salamy, A., 345
Salthouse, T. A., 73, 350,
352–353, 363
Sams, M., 127
Sanders, R. J., 292
Sanfey, A. G., 261
Santa, J. L., 79–81
Sarason, S. B., 354
Sauers, R., 220
Saufley, W. H., 170
Savage-Rumbaugh, E. S., 292
Sayers, D. L., 284
Scanlan, D. J., 89
Scarborough, H. S., 315
Schacter, D. L., 166, 167, 168,
169, 175, 177
Schaffer, M. M., 118, 119
Schaie, K. W., 351
Schank, R. C., 116 , 247
Scheines, R., 246
Schieffelin, B., 305
Schleicher, A., 16
Schlesewsky, M., 325
Schliemann, A. D., 229
Schmalhofer, F., 334–335
Schmidt, F. L., 355
Schmidt, H., 63
Schmidt, H. G., 160
Schmidt, L., 312
Schmidt, R. A., 215
Schneider, W., 349–350
Schneiderman, B., 223
Schoenfeld, A. H., 222
Schooler, J., 167
Schrater, P., 230
Schreiber, G., 146
Schubert, T., 75
Schultz, W., 277
Schumacher, E. H., 70, 71
Schunn, C. D., 188
Schvaneveldt, R. D., 135, 136
Schwartz, A. B., 83
Schwartz, B. J., 223
Schwartz, J. H., 14, 30
Schwartz, M. F., 120
Schwartz, S., 360
Seidenberg, M. S., 3, 304
Sejnowski, T. J., 277
Selfridge, O. G., 47
Selkoe, D. J., 351
Sells, S. B., 248
Semendeferi, K., 16
Servan-Schreiber, D., 3
Shacter, D. L., 176
Shafir, E., 275
Shallice, T., 120
Shapiro, M., 173
Sharot, T., 147
Sharp, D., 354
Shaughnessy, E., 333
Shelton, A. L., 91
Shepard, R. N., 82, 83, 99, 128
Sherman, D. A., 110
Shertz, J., 222
Shiffrin, R. M., 127
Shimada, H., 175
Shipstead, Z., 230
Sholl, M. J., 92
Shomstein, S., 65, 69
Shortliffe, E. H., 237
Showman, D. J., 38, 45
Shoyama, T., 44
Shuford, E. H., 268
Shulman, G. L., 54
Shulman, H. G., 322–323
Shweder, R., 297n
Sieg, W., 246
Siegler, R. S., 340, 344
Silk, E., 22–23
Silveira, J., 205
Silver, E. A., 222
Silveri, M. C., 130
Silverman, M.S., 18
Simester, D., 3
Simmons, W. K., 107
Simon, H., 8, 255
Simon, H. A., 2, 94, 183, 195,
198, 199, 206, 223–224, 227,
228, 258
Simon, T. J., 345
Simonides, 145
Simons, D. J., 51, 64, 230
Simons, J. S., 261
Singer, M., 329
Singley, K., 231
Siple, P., 48
Sivers, H., 167
Skoyles, J. R., 210
Skudlarski, P., 42
Sleeman, D., 233
Sloman, S. A., 267
Small, S. L., 337
Smith, E. E., 119, 130, 132
Smith, M., 170n
Smith, S., 321
Smith, S. M., 128, 169,
205, 295
Smitsman, A. W., 345
Snow, C., 305
Snyder, C. R. R., 58
Snyder, K. M., 175
Sohn, M.-H., 157
Sommerville, R. B., 275–276
Sox, H. C., Jr., 274
Spearman, C., 357, 358
Spekreijse, H., 61
Spelke, E. S., 72, 345, 346
Spellman, B. A., 159
Spengler, S., 261
Sperling, G. A., 126
Spiers, H. J., 90
Spiro, R. J., 162
Spitzer, M., 93
Spivey-Knowlton, M. J., 328
Spooner, W. A., 289
Squire, L. R., 173, 175, 179
Stacy, E. W., 50
Stanfield, R. A. 107
Stankov, L., 358
Stanovich, K., 257
Starkey, P., 345
Steedman, M., 249, 250, 258
Stein, B. S., 141, 142
Stein, G., 72–73
Stein, N. L., 350
Stenger, V. A., 23, 157, 198
Sternberg, R. J., 354–355, 359
Sternberg, S., 9–10
Stevens, A., 94, 95
Stevens, J. K., 295
Stewart, M., 360
Stickgold, R., 158
Stillman, R. C., 171
Stokes, M., 81
Stone-Elander, S., 88
Strangman, G., 22
Stratton, G. M., 231
Strayer, D. L., 72
Strick, P. L., 178
Strohner, H., 320
Stromswold, K., 300
Stroop, J. Ridley, 73
Studdert-Kennedy, M., 46
Suh, S., 336
Sulin, R. A., 162
Summala, H., 72
Supalla, T., 308
Sutton, J. P., 22
Swinney, D. A., 326
Switkes, E., 18
Szameitat, A. J., 75
T
Taatgen, N., 236
Talarico, J. M., 146, 147
Tanaka, J. W., 42
Anderson_8e_NI.indd 397 13/09/14 10:02 AM
398 / N a m e I N d e x
Tanenhaus, M. K., 317–318
Tanila, H., 173
Tannehaus, M. K., 327, 328
Tarr, M. J., 42, 91
Taub, E., 228
Taylor, J., 278
Teasdale, J. D., 171
Tees, R. C., 301
Teghtsoonian, M., 128
Terman, L. M., 353
Terrace, H. S., 292
Tesch-Römer, C., 228
Tharan, M., 176
Thelen, E., 108
Thomas, E. L., 143
Thompson, D. M., 172
Thompson, E., 81
Thompson, L. A., 230
Thompson, M. C., 48
Thompson, N., 130
Thompson, R. K. R., 190, 191
Thompson, W. L., 83, 88, 89
Thorndike, E. L., 6, 186, 231
Thorndyke, P. W., 90
Thurstone, L. L., 357, 358
Tipper, S. P., 67, 68
Todd, P. M., 270
Tolman, E., 7
Toman, J. E. P., 295
Tomasello, M., 191
Tomczak, R., 93
Tong, F., 42
Tootell, R. B. H., 18
Torrey, J. W., 315
Townsend, D. J., 321n
Trabasso, T. R., 329, 333,
336, 350
Tranel, A., 243n
Tranel, D., 279
Treisman, A. M., 56, 57, 62,
63, 64
Treves, A., 121
Treyens, J. C., 113–114
Trueswell, J. C., 327
Tschaikowsky, K., 295
Tsushima, T., 301
Tulving, E., 169, 172
Turing, A., 328
Turke-Browne, N. B., 77
Turner, A. A., 220
Turner, T. J., 116–117
Turnure, J. E., 142
Turvey, M. T., 127
Tversky, A., 264, 268, 269,
273, 274
Tweney, R. D., 256
Tyler, L. K., 304
Tyler, R., 321
U
Ulrich, J. E., 175
Ulrich, R., 225
Ultan, R., 298
Umiltà, C., 66
Underwood, G., 72
Ungerleider, L. G., 28, 31,
42, 64
U.S. Department of Justice, 3
V
Vallar, G., 130
Van Essen, D. C., 32
Van Hoesen, G. W., 16
Van Loosbroek, E., 345
Van Ravenzwaaij, D., 231
Van Veen, V., 198
Vargha-Khadem, F., 300
Vartanian, O., 257
Vaughn, J., 67
Verde, M. F., 159
Visscher, K. M., 75
Visser, M., 98
Von Ahn, L., 37
Von Cramon, D. Y., 75
Von Frisch, K., 292
Von Neumann, J., 272
W
Wade, K. A., 166, 167
Wade, N., 300
Wagenmakers, E. J., 231
Wagner, A. D., 129, 139, 140,
142, 169
Wai, J., 363
Wakefield, M., 245
Wallace, B., 267
Walsh, M. M., 277
Wang, P. P., 300
Wanner, E., 98–99, 101
Warach, J., 89
Warren, R. M., 49, 50
Warren, R. P., 50
Warren, W. H., 91
Warrington, E. K., 120
Washburn, D. A., 76
Wason, P., 320
Wason, P. C., 242–243, 245, 254
Waters, G., 320
Waters, H. S., 106
Waterson, S., 287
Watkins, K., 300
Watkins, M. J., 172
Watson, J. B., 6, 294–295
Waugh, N. C., 127
Wearing, C., 174–175
Wearing, D., 174
Weaver, B., 67, 68
Weber, E., 267
Weber-Fox, C., 307, 308
Wedderburn, A. A. I., 56
Weinert, F. E., 349–350
Weingartner, H., 171
Weiser, M., 222
Weissman, D. H., 75
Welsch, D. M., 334–335
Wendelken, C., 191
Werker, J. F., 301
Wernicke, C., 282
Wertheimer, M., 34
Wheeler, D. D., 47
Whitaker, K. J., 191
Whorf, B., 295–296
Wible, C. G., 146
Wickelgren, W. A., 151
Widen, L., 88
Wiebe, D., 206
Wienbruch, C., 228
Wiesel, T. N., 31, 32
Wikman, A. S., 72
Wilson, C. D., 107
Windes, J. D., 76
Winston, P. H., 34
Witherspoon, D., 176
Wittwer, J., 188
Wixted, J. T., 151
Wojciulik, E., 62
Woldorff, M. G., 57, 75
Wolfe, J. M., 32
Wood, E., 142, 173
Woodrow, H., 229
Woodworth, R. S., 248
Wright, H., 257
Wunderlich, A. P., 93
Wundt, W., 4, 6
Wynn, K., 345, 346
Y
Yeni-Komshian, G.,
306–307
Yin, R. K., 42
Young, A. W., 28, 65
Z
Zaehle, T., 93
Zanni, G., 331
Zatorre, R. J., 57, 66
Zemel, R. S., 67
Zhao, Z., 140
Zilles, K., 16
Zimny, S., 334–335
Zorzi, M., 66
Zwaan, R. A., 107, 335
Zytkow, J., 2
Anderson_8e_NI.indd 398 13/09/14 10:02 AM
399
Subject Index
A
Abstraction theories, 118–119
see also Schemas
ACT, see Adaptive control of thought (ACT)
theory
Action potential, 12, 13
Activation, 133–135
and long-term memory, 133–137
spreading, 135–137
Activation calculations, 133–135
Adaptive control of thought (ACT) theory,
133, 134
Addition set, 203
Addition solution, 203
Adolescents
risk taking by, 276
Advance organizers, 142–143
Affirmation of the consequent, 240–241
Agent-action combination, 327
Aging
and cognition, 350–353
“Aha” experience, 206
Alcohol
and memory, 171
Allocentric representation, 92–94
Alpha-arithmetic domain, 218
Alzheimer’s disease, 351
Ambiguity, 285, 323–324
American Sign Language, 292, 308
Amnesia, 16
anterograde, 124, 173–174, 177
and hippocampal formation,
172–174
and implicit memory, 175
Amodal hypothesis, 109, 122
Amodal symbol system, 106–108
Amygdala, 16, 147
Anagram solutions, 204
Analogy, 188–191
Angular gyrus, 282
Animal learning, 7
Antecedent, 239–240
denial of the, 240, 241
Anterior cingulate cortex (ACC), 54,
75–76
activation in, 257
skill acquisition, 217, 218
Anterior prefrontal region, 261
Anterograde amnesia, 124, 173–174, 177
Anticipation, 289
Apes
and language, 292–293
Aphasias, 17, 282
Apperceptive agnosia, 27–28
Aqueous humor, 29
Arabic language, 296
Arbitrariness
of communication systems,
291–292
Arborizations, 11, 12
Arguments
of propositions, 105
Articulation, place of, 44
Articulatory loop, 130–131
Artifacts categories, 120, 122
Artificial intelligence (AI), 1–2, 8
computer languages, 313
LISP tutor, 233
problem solving, 191
reasoning, 237
reinforcement learning, 277
ASCII, 14
Associations
networks of, 155–157
strengths of between potential prime
and potential response, 134–135
Associative agnosia, 27–28
Associative priming, 136–137
Associative spreading, 136
Associative stage (of skill acquisition), 212
Associative structure, 169–172
Atmosphere hypothesis, 248–249
limitations of, 249–250
Attention, 53–77
auditory, 54–58
central, 69–76
and consciousness, 76–77
goal-directed, 54, 55
object-based, 67–69
stimulus-driven, 54, 55
visual, 58–69
Attenuation theory, 56–57
Attribute identification, 253
Auditory attention, 54–58
Auditory cortex, 16, 28, 54, 57–58
Auditory sensory memory, 126–127
Auditory sensory store, 126
Autism, 3
Automaticity, 72–75
Autonomous stage (of skill acquisition), 212
Axons, 11–12
B
Backup avoidance, 191
Backward inferences, 329
Bar detectors, 31–32, 37, 38
Basal ganglia, 16, 17
and category learning, 119
dopamine neurons, 277, 278
operators, 187
reading skills, 215
and sequence learning, 178–179
Base-rate neglect, 264–265, 267
Bayes’s theorem, 262–264
and experience, 266–268
Bayesian principles and behavior, 266–267
Behavioral economics, 3
Behaviorism, 6–7, 8n
Behaviorist proposal of language and
thought, 294–295
Berinmo language, 297
Bias
confirmation, 255, 256
and natural categories, 120
in probability judgments, 268, 269
Binding problem, 63–64
Biological categories, 120, 122
Blood oxygen level dependent (BOLD)
response, 24
Bonobos
and nonverbal language, 292–293
Bottlenecks
practical implications, 72
Bottom-up processing, 47
Brain
age-related declines, 351
and analogical reasoning, 191
and decision making, 260–261
disorders, 3, 351
encoding information schemes, 14
and false memories, 167–169
growth of, 338–339
and knowledge, 97–98
and language, 281–283, 314
and memories, 150–151
and memory, 124–125, 131–132, 133,
140–141, 142
and mental imagery, 79, 81
and natural categories, 120–122
neuron development, 339
organization of, 15–19
and reasoning, 238–239
and skill acquisition, 211
structures of, 54
and visual imagery, 87–88
visual perception in, 27–35
Bridging inferences, 329–330
Broca’s aphasia, 282
Broca’s area, 16, 17, 130, 304
child development, 344
and language, 282
and sentence structure processing, 325
verbal imagery, 79
Brodmann area, 132
C
Calcarine fissure, 30
CAPTCHA (completely automated public
tuning test to tell computers and
humans apart), 37
Carnegie Learning, 233
Categorical facts
hierarchy of, 110–111
Categorical information
and conceptual knowledge, 109–110
Categorical knowledge
schemas, 112–118
Anderson_8e_SI.indd 399 13/09/14 10:04 AM
400 / S u b j e c t I n d e x
Categorical perception, 45–47, 110
Categorical syllogisms, 246–248
Category membership
degree of, 114–116, 118
Caudate nucleus, 17
Cell phones
and driving distractions, 72
Center-embedded sentences, 319–320
Central attention, 69–76
Central bottleneck, 72
Central executive, 129
Central nervous system, 15
Cerebellar Purkinje cell, 11
Cerebellum, 15, 16
and exemplar theories, 119
Cerebral cortex, 15, 16
development of, 344
localization of function, 17–19
topographic organization of, 18–19
Change blindness, 50–51
Cheap-necklace problem, 205, 206, 209
Chess
and pattern learning and memory,
223–226
Child development, 343–345
age and language development, 306–308
early speech, 301–302
Piaget’s stages of, 340–341
Chimpanzees
and analogical problems, 190–191
and problem solving, 182
and speech, 292
Classification behavior
and categorization, 116
Clinical psychology, 2
Closure principle, 34, 35
Coarse coding, 19
Coarticulation, 43
Cognition, 1–25
and aging, 350–353
embodied, 108–109
individual differences in, 338–364
psychometric studies of, 353–363
Cognitive control
and prefrontal regions, 75–76
Cognitive development, 338–353
Cognitive maps, 89–92
Cognitive neuroscience, 10, 19–25
Cognitive processes, basic, 2
Cognitive Psychology (journal), 8
Cognitive Psychology (Neisser), 8
Cognitive psychology
defined, 1
history of, 3–10
motivations for studying, 1–3
practical applications of, 3
Cognitive science, 8
Cognitive Science (journal), 8
Cognitive Science Society, 8
Cognitive stage (of skill acquisition), 211
Color naming, 74–75
Color words, 296–297
Competence, linguistic, 285–286
Competence grammar, 309
Componential analyses, 232
and intelligent tutoring systems, 233
Computer languages, 313, 328
Computer science, see Artificial intelligence
Computers
chess expertise, 226
information storage, 14
Concept identification, 252–253
Conceptual knowledge, 109–122
Concrete-operational stage (of child
development), 340
conservation in, 342
Conditional arguments
evaluation of, 240–242
Conditional probability, 262–263
Conditional statement, 239
Conditional syllogisms
and Bayes’s theorem, 262
Conditionals
permission interpretation of, 243–244
probabilistic interpretation of, 244–245
reasoning about, 239–246
Conditioning, 179
Cones (eye), 29
Confirmation bias, 255, 256
Conjunctive concept, 253, 254
Consciousness
and attention, 76–77
and behaviorism, 6
Consequent, 239–240
affirmation of the, 241–242
Conservation
in child development, 341–343
Conservatism
in probability estimates, 265–266
Conservative focusing, 254
Consonantal feature, 44
Constituent structure, 314–317
Constituents, 315
Context
cued-recall, 172
emotional, 170
and pattern recognition, 47–51
Context effects, 169–171
Cornea, 29
Corpus callosum, 17
Cortical minicolumn, 19
Cortical regions
and analogical reasoning, 191
Creoles, 312
Crystallized intelligence, 358
Cued-recall context, 172
D
Dani language, 296
Decay
and interference, 158–159
Decay theory, 154
Decision making, 237, 260–279
and brain, 260–261
and uncertainty, 271–277
Declarative knowledge, 215
Declarative memory, 179
Deductive reasoning, 239
about quantifiers, 246–251
Deep Blue program, 226
Deese-Roediger-McDermott paradigm, 167
Default values, 113–114
Delay
and performance, 152–153
Delayed match-to-sample task, 131–132
Deliberate practice, 227–229, 230
Dendrites, 11–12
Denial of the antecedent, 240, 241
Depth-of-processing effect, 144
Depth of processing theory, 128, 141
Depth perception, 33–34
Descriptive model, 263
Dichotic listening task, 54–55, 56
Difference reduction, 192–194, 195, 198
Disambiguation, 326–328
Discreteness
in human language, 292
Disjunctive concept, 253
Dissociations
explicit and implicit memories, 175–176
Dogs
nonverbal communication system,
291–292
Dopamine neurons, 277, 278
Dorsolateral prefrontal cortex (DLPFC),
54, 75
Driving
automaticity, 73
and cell phone distractions, 72
Dual-code theory, 106
Dual n-back task, 230
Dual-process theories, 257–258
Dual-task condition, 69–71, 75
Dualism, 10
E
Early-selection theories, 54
attenuation theory, 57
filter theory, 55–56
Echoic memory, see Auditory sensory store
Economics, 2, 3
Edge detectors, 31–32, 37, 38
Education
cognitive psychology applications, 3
Egocentric representation, 91–92, 93–94
Eight-tile problem, 183–185, 191, 209
Einstellung effect, 203, 232
Elaborations, 141–142
and inferential reconstruction, 164–165
and memory, 350
Elaborative inferences, 329–330
Elaborative processing, 141–142, 148
of pictures, 176
Elbot, 328
Electroencephalography (EEG), 20–21
Embodied cognition, 108–109
Emotional context, 170
Empiricism, 4
Empiricist-nativist debate, 345–347
Anderson_8e_SI.indd 400 13/09/14 10:04 AM
S u b j e c t I n d e x / 401
Encoding effects, see Context effects
Encoding-specificity principle, 172
Endogenous control, see Goal-directed
factors
Epiphenomenon, 78
Episodic memory, 179
Equation solving, 22–25
Eskimos
linguistic determinism, 295–296
Event concepts, 116–118
Event-related potentials (ERPs), 21, 25
Events
categorization of, 115
memory for, 98–104
Example learning
operators, 187–188
Exchanges
speech errors, 289
Excitatory synapse, 12
Executive control, 75–76
Exemplar theories, 118–119
Exogenous control, see Stimulus-driven
factors
Experience
and probability judgments, 266–268
Expertise, 210–236
through practice, 72–75
Expletive pronouns, 311
Explicit memory
and implicit memory, 174–179
Extrastriate cortex, 54
Eye
information processing, 28–30
psychological nystagmus, 39
see also Cones; Cornea; Fovea; Pupil;
Retina; Rods; and entries under Visual
Eye fixations
on words, 317
Eye movements
and language comprehension, 317–318
Eyewitness testimony, 3, 165
F
Face recognition, 42–43
Face-related actions, 122
Faces
memory for, 102
Factor analysis, 355–358
Fahrenheit 911 (film), 148
False memories
and brain, 167–169
False-memory syndrome, 165–166
Fan effect, 155–158
Feature analysis, 37–39
of speech, 44–45
Feature-based recognition, 38
Feature-integration theory, 63
Feature maps, 32
Feedback-related negativity (FRN), 277
Filter theory, 55–56
Flashbulb memories, 145–148
Flight management systems, 3
FLMP (fuzzy logical model of perception),
48–49
Fluid intelligence, 358
Flynn effect, 351, 355
fMRI, see Functional magnetic resonance
imaging
Focal colors, 296–297
Foreign language vocabulary
mnemonic techniques, 104
Forgetting
decay and interference, 158–159
decay theory of, 154
and inhibition process, 159–160
interference theory of, 154–155
power law of, 153
Forgotten memories, 151–152
Formal discipline doctrine, 229–230, 231
Formal-operational stage (of child develop-
ment), 340
conservation in, 343
Forward inferences, 329
Forward problem solving, 221
Fovea, 29, 31, 58–59
FOXP2 gene, 300
Framing effects, 273–276
Free-association technique, 133–134
Frontal cortex
memory, 132
primate working memory, 131–132
Frontal lobe, 15, 16, 21
Frontoparietal region
and natural categories, 120
Functional fixedness, 201–202
Functional magnetic resonance imaging
(fMRI), 21, 22–25
template matching, 36
Functionalism, 6
Fusiform face area (FFA), 59, 60, 87
Fusiform gyrus, 42, 51
Fusiform visual area
chess learning, 225
G
Gambler’s fallacy, 269
Ganglion cells, 29, 31
Garden-path sentences, 323–324
General Problem Solver (GPS), 194, 195
Tower of Hanoi problem, 196, 197
Generalization hierarchy, 113
Geons, 40, 41
Germany
psychology in, 4–5, 7
Gestalt principles of organization, 34–35,
51, 52
Gestalt psychology, 7
Glial cells, 11n
child development, 344
Globus pallidus, 17
Goal-directed attention, 54, 55
Goal-directed behavior
problem solving, 183
Goal-directed factors
and attention, 54
Goal state, 183, 185
Goal structures, 198–199
Good continuation principle, 34, 35
Good form principle, 35
Grammar, 284
Grammatical genders, 312
Greebles, 42
Gyrus (pl. gyri), 15
H
Habituation, 179
Hanunoo language, 296
Hemodynamic activation, 141n
Hemodynamic response, 21, 140
and fan effect, 157
Hill climbing, 192, 194
Hippocampal formation, 172–174
Hippocampal regions
and memory, 150, 151
Hippocampus, 16
age-related changes in, 351
allocentric representation, 93
and memory, 124, 125, 140, 142, 177,
179
reading skills, 215
route-following and way-finding, 90
tactical learning, 218
true and false words recognition,
168–169
Hobbits and orcs problem, 192, 217
Honeybees
communication system of, 292
Human language
features of, 291–294
Human performance research, 7, 8
Huntington’s disease, 16, 178
Hypercolumns, 32
Hypnosis
and memory, 170n
Hypothalamus, 15
Hypothesis formation, 252–253
Hypothesis testing, 251–257
I
Iconic memory, see Visual sensory store
Identical elements theory, 231–232
Identical elements model of transfer, 234
Illusory conjunctions, 63–64
Image scanning, 84–85
Imitation, 188–191
Immediacy of interpretation, 317–318, 323,
324
Implicit knowledge
linguistic intuitions, 285
Implicit learning
and procedural learning, 178–179
Implicit memory, 174–179
Incidental learning
versus intentional learning, 144–145
Incidental-learning condition, 144
Incubation effects, 204–206
Inductive reasoning, 239, 251–257
Inference of reference, 330–331
Inference patterns
affirmation of the consequent, 240–241
Anderson_8e_SI.indd 401 13/09/14 10:04 AM
402 / S u b j e c t I n d e x
denial of the antecedent, 241
in logic of the conditional, 239–240
Inferences
backward and forward, 329
bridging versus elaborative, 329–330
Inferential mechanism, 113
Inferential reconstruction
and elaboration, 164–165
Inflectional structure
and parsing, 318–319
Information
neural representation of, 13–14
Information coding
in visual cells, 31–32
Information processing, 9–10
bottlenecks, 72
communicative neurons in, 10–14
early visual, 28–31
mental imagery, 78–96
rate of, 348–349
serial bottlenecks, 53–54
Information theory, 8
Inhibition
and forgetting, 159–160
Inhibition effects, 160
Inhibition of return, 67–68
Inhibitory synapse, 12
Input
and language acquisition, 305–306
Insight, 206–207
Insight problems, 206
Instruction
and operator learning, 187–188
Intellectual curiosity, 1–2
Intelligence, 338
crystallized, 358
fluid, 358
see also Artificial intelligence
Intelligence quotients (IQs), 353–355
and success, 356
Intelligence tests, 353–355
Intelligent tutoring systems, 233–235
Intentional learning
versus incidental learning, 144–145
Interactive processing, 326–327
Interference
and decay, 158–159
and memory, 154–161
and redundancy, 160–161
and retrieval, 161–169
Interference effects, 155, 157–158
Interference theory of forgetting, 154–155
Introspection, 4–5, 6, 7
Iowa gambling task, 278
Isa links, 110, 113
Isa slot, 113
J
Judgment, probabilistic, 262–271
K
Kanzi (ape), 292–293
Kennedy assassination (1963), 146
Keyword method, 104
Kinship terms
and language diversity, 298–299
Knowledge
categorical, 112–118
conceptual, 109–122
declarative, 215
procedural, 177–179, 215
representation of, 97–122
Knowledge accumulation
versus physical growth, 345
Korsakoff syndrome, 173
Kpelle culture, 354
L
Laboratory-defined categories, 120
Lag (and short-term memory), 128
Landmarks
and survey maps, 91
Language
and brain, 281–283
constituent structure, 314–317
features of, 291–294
and general cognition, 300
modularity of, 299–300
and thought, 294–300
see also Linguistics; Speech; Verbal
information
Language acquisition, 300–311
and input, 305–306
and modularity hypothesis, 300
primate research, 293
Language comprehension, 313–337
and brain, 314
and modularity hypothesis, 300
semantic considerations, 320
syntactic patterns, 320
syntax and semantics, 321
Language development
and children’s ages, 306–308
Language processing theories, 283
Language structure, 281–311
Language universals, 308–309
Languages
natural, 309, 311
parameter setting, 310–311
pro-drop, 310–311
uniformities among, 309
Latent semantic analysis (LSA), 312
Lateral geniculate nucleus, 30, 31
Late-selection theories, 54, 56–57
Lens (eye), 29
Letter identification, 36
top-down effects, 47–48
Letter recognition, 38
Lexical ambiguity, 285, 326
Lexigrams, 292–293
Limbic system
and memory, 16
Linguistic competence, 285–286
Linguistic determinism
Whorfian hypothesis of, 295–297
Linguistic intuitions, 284–285
Linguistic module, 299
Linguistic performance, 285–286
Linguistic universals, 310
Linguistic utterances, 284–285
Linguistics, 3, 283–286
and cognitive psychology, 8
see also entries under Language
Liquid conservation task, 342, 343
LISP tutor, 233–235
Listening, 313
dichotic, 54–55
Loebner Prize, 328
Logical quantifiers, 246–251
Long-term memory, 127, 148
and activation, 133–137
and depth of processing theory, 128
and expertise, 226–227
Long-term potentiation (LTP), 139, 153
Long-term working memory, 133
M
Mach bands, 52
Machine vision, 36
Magnetoencephalography (MEG), 21
Magnitudes
visual comparison of, 85–86
Map distortions, 94–95
Map rotation, 92
Maps, see Cognitive maps; Mental maps;
Physical maps; Route maps; Survey
maps
Marijuana
and memory, 171
Mastery learning, 232
Meaning
and memory, 101–104
Means-ends analysis, 192, 194–196
Tower of Hanoi problem, 196–198
Mechanization of thought, see Einstellung
effect
Medulla, 15
Memento (movie), 124, 148
Memories
decay of, 158
encoding, 14
false, 167–169
flashbulb, 145–148
forgotten 151–152
formation of new, 140
and implicit memory, 175
preexisting, and interfering effect,
157–158
Memory
auditory sensory, 126–127
and brain, 124–125
and contextual elements, 170
declarative, 179
and elaboration, 350
and emotional context, 170
encoding and storage, 124–148
episodic, 179
for event interpretation, 98–104
Anderson_8e_SI.indd 402 13/09/14 10:04 AM
S u b j e c t I n d e x / 403
explicit and implicit, 174–179
for faces, 102
formation of, 72
and frequency, 270–271
interference and, 154–161
and limbic system, 16
long-term, 127, 148
long-term working, 133
and meaning, 99, 101
nondeclarative, 179
and pattern learning, 223–226
practice and strength of, 137–141
prefrontal regions, 124–125, 140–141,
142, 150, 151
and probability judgments, 268, 269
procedural, 177–179
recall, 129n
recognition, 129n
and recognition heuristic, 270
and rehearsal, 350
retention and retrieval, 150–179
retention function, 152–154
sensory, 125–129, 148
short-term, 127–129
strength of, 154
for style, 99
for verbal information, 98–99
for visual information, 99–101
visual sensory, 125–126
for words and pictures, 140
see also False-memory syndrome;
Working memory
Memory-based instances
and categories, 119
Memory inferences
schema effects on, 113
Memory-space proposal, 347
Memory span, 127
Mental age, 353–354
Mental array scanning, 84–85
Mental capacity
increased, 347–349
Mental imagery, 78–96
and elaborations, 145
spatial and visual components, 88–89
Mental maps
hierarchal structure of, 94
see also Cognitive maps
Mental model theory, 250–251
Mental rotation, 82–84
and spatial ability, 361–362
Mental rotation task, 348
Method of loci, 145
Midazolam, 177
Midbrain, 15
Minimal attachment principle, 324
Mirror neurons, 108
Mismatch negativity, 127
Mnemonic techniques, 103, 104
Modularity, 326, 327–328
Modularity hypothesis of language,
299–300
Modus ponens, 239–240, 241, 242
Modus tollens, 240, 241
Monkeys
and number knowledge, 346
vocalizations of, 292
Mood congruence, 170–171
Mood dependent effects, 170
Motherese, 305
Motion parallax, 33
Motor cortex, 24, 25, 54
activation of and words, 108–109
and mental rotation, 83
skill acquisition, 217
Motor neuron, 11
Multimodal hypothesis, 109, 122
Multiword utterances, 302
Mutilated-checkerboard problem,
199–200, 206
Myelination, 348
child development, 344–345
N
N400 effect, 322–323
Nativism, 4
Natural categories, 120–122
Natural languages, 309, 311
Nature-versus-nurture controversy, see
Empiricist-nativist debate
Near-infrared sensing, 22
Negative transfer, 232
Negatives, 333–334, 362
Neocortex, see Cerebral cortex
Neo-Piagetian theories of development, 347
Neural activation
patterns of, 14
Neural imaging techniques, 20–22
Neural representation
and mental rotation, 83–84
Neurons, 11–13
activation level, 13
number-specific, 346
Neuroscience, see Cognitive neuroscience
Neurotransmitters, 11–12
Neutral context condition
and category membership, 115
9/11 attack (2001), 146–147
Nondeclarative memory, 179
Normative model, see Prescriptive
model
Northern Paiute language, 298, 299
Noun-number pairings, 154
Nucleus accumbens, 277, 278
Number, conservation of, 342–343
Number knowledge, 345–346
O
Object-based attention, 67–69
Object perception, 34–35, 50–51
Object permanence, 341
Object recognition, 39–42
Object segmentation, 34–35
Objective probability, 273
Occipital cortex
visual imagery, 79
Occipital lobe, 15, 16, 21
Occipital visual areas
and exemplar theories, 119
One-word utterances, 301
On-off and off-on ganglion cells, 31, 32
Operator discovery, 186
Operator selection, 191–199
Operator subgoals, 196
Operators, 183–186
acquisition of, 186–187
problem-solving, 186–191
Optic chiasma, 30
Optic nerve, 15, 29, 30
Orienting task, 144
P
P600 effect, 322, 323, 325
Parahippocampal gyrus
true and false items, 168–169
Parahippocampal place area (PPA), 59, 60,
87–88
Parameter setting
in languages, 310–311
Paraphrases, 285
Parietal cortex, 24, 25, 54
egocentric and allocentric representa-
tions, 93–94
memory, 132
and number knowledge, 346
and personal and impersonal dilem-
mas, 276
and visual attention, 65
visual imagery, 79, 83
Parietal lobes, 15, 16
and attention, 66, 68–69
injuries and damages to, 65
Parietal regions
and content judging, 238, 239, 246
and mental imagery, 362
skill acquisition, 217
and visual imagery, 87, 89, 90
Parietal-temporal region
phonological store, 130
Parkinson’s disease, 16, 178
Parsing, 313, 314–328
constituent structure, 314–317
immediacy of interpretation, 317–318
processing of syntactic structure,
318–320
and semantic considerations, 320
Part hierarchy, 113
Partial-report procedure, 126
Particular statements, 248
Past-tense forms, 303–304
Pattern classifier, 151
Pattern learning
and memory, 223–226
Pattern recall, 227
Pattern recognition
and context, 47–51
and skill acquisition, 216
unconscious, 119
visual, 35–43
Pause structure in speech, 287–288
Anderson_8e_SI.indd 403 13/09/14 10:04 AM
404 / S u b j e c t I n d e x
Perception, 27–51
Perceptual modalities
and embodied cognition, 108–109
Perceptual recognition, see Priming
Perceptual representation
of meaning, 107
Perceptual symbol system, 106–108
Perfect time-sharing, 70–71
Performance
and delay, 152–153
linguistic, 285–286
Permanent ambiguity, 323
Permission schema, 243–244
Phoneme-restoration effect, 49
Phonemes
categorical perception of, 46
features of, 44–45
and speech recognition, 43
Phonological loop, 129–130, 131
Phonological store, 130
Phonology, 284
Photoreceptor cells, 28–29
Phrase structure, 286–287
Pictures
memory for, 140
Pidgins, 312
Pituitary gland, 15
Place of articulation, 44
Plausible retrieval, 162–164
Pluralization rules, 302
Political science, 2
Pons, 15
Positron emission tomography (PET), 21
Posterior cortex
visual imagery, 79
Posterior probability, 262, 263, 264–265
Potential primes, 134
Potential responses, 134
Power function, 138
and retention function, 153
Power law of forgetting, 153
Power law of learning, 138
neural correlates of, 139–141
Power-law learning, 212–215
PQ4R method, 5, 143
Practical intelligence, 355
Practice effects
power-law learning, 212
Practice
automaticity through, 72–75
deliberate, 227–229, 230
and memory strength, 137–141
and mental operations, 348–349
and performance, 74
working memory, 230
Pragmatism, 6
Prefrontal cortex, 15–16, 24, 25, 181–182
and abstraction theories, 119
and content judgment, 243n
explicit memory, 177
and fan effect, 157
and goal structures, 198–199
and memory, 140
and number knowledge, 346
operators, 187
problem solving, 191, 207
verbal imagery, 79
Prefrontal regions
anterior, 261
and content judging, 238, 239
and executive control, 75–76
and fan effect, 157
and memory, 124–125, 140–141, 142,
150, 151
skill acquisition, 217
verbal and visual material processing,
97–98
Preoperational stage (of child development),
340
conservation in, 342
Prescriptive model, 263
Primal sketch, 51
Primary auditory cortex, 127
Primary visual cortex, 88, 127
Primates
as research subjects, 293
working memory, 131–132
Priming, 176–177
Principle of closure, 34, 35
Principle of good continuation, 34, 35
Principle of good form, 35
Principle of minimal attachment, 324
Principle of proximity, 34
Principle of similarity, 34, 35
Principles of Psychology (James), 6
Prior probability, 262, 264–265
Probabilistic judgment, 262–271
Probability
conditional, 262–263
conservatism, 265–266
object-based, 273
posterior, 262, 263, 264–265
prior, 262, 264–265
subjective, 273, 277–279
Probability judgments, 268–270
Probability matching, 267
Problem perception, 221–223
Problem representation, 199–202
Problem solving, 2, 181–207, 221
Problem-solving abilities, 358
Problem space, 183–186
and hypothesis testing, 255
Procedural knowledge, 177–179, 215
Procedural memory, 177–179
Proceduralization, 215–217
Process explanations, 250–251
Pro-drop languages, 310–311
Productivity
in language, 283–284
Pronominal reference, 331–332
Propositional representations, 104–108
Propositions, 104
Prosopagnosia, 42
Proximity principle, 34
Psychological nystagmus, 39
Psychology, 4
see also Clinical psychology; Cognitive
psychology; Social psychology
Psychometric tests, 353–363
Pupil (eye), 29
Putamen, 17
Pyramid expression, 187
Pyramidal cell, 11
Q
Quantity, concept of, 342
R
Rate of firing, 13
in visual cells, 31
Raven’s Progressive Matrices test, 191, 230
Reading instruction, 3
Reading skills
acquisition of, 213–215
Reasoning, 237–258
and brain, 238–239
about conditionals, 239–246
dual-process theories, 257–258
inductive, 239, 251–257
Reasoning ability, 358–359
Reasoning backward method, 219–220
Reasoning forward method, 220
Reasoning parameter, 359
Recall
and recognition, 172
method of loci, 145
Recall memory, 129n
Recognition
and recall, 172
Recognition-by-components theory, 40
Recognition heuristic, 270–271
Recognition memory, 129n
for pictures, 102–103
for words, 102
Recognition time
and networks of associations, 155–157
and practice, 137–138
Recursion, 196n
Redundancy
and interference, 160–161
and word context, 48
Regularity
in language, 283, 284
Rehearsal
and memory, 350
Reinforcement learning, 277
Relational concept, 253
Relations
of propositions, 105
Remote association problems, 207, 209
Retention function, 152–154
Retina, 28–29, 30
template matching, 36
see also Fovea
Retinal movement
and perception, 39
Retrieval
and associative structure, 169–172
and interference, 161–169
plausible, 162–164
Retrieval-induced suppression, 160
Anderson_8e_SI.indd 404 13/09/14 10:04 AM
S u b j e c t I n d e x / 405
Retrieval inhibition, 159
Retrograde amnesia, 173–174
Reward probabilities
and decision making, 278
Rhymes, 141
Risk taking
by adolescents, 276
Rods (eye), 29
Route-following, 90
Route maps, 89–91
Rule learning, 253
S
Saccades, 61
San Francisco earthquake (1989), 146
Schemas, 112–118, 122
psychology reality of, 113–114
Schizophrenia, 3
Scientific discovery, 2
Scientific method, 4
Scientific theories
and hypothesis testing, 255–257, 258
Scripts, 116–117, 118
Search
problem solving, 183–186
Search trees, 185–186
Selection task, 242–243
Semantic associates, 141
Semantic considerations, 320
Semantic dementia, 120
Semantic memory, 179
Semantic networks, 110–112
categorical knowledge, 118
Semantic processing
neural indicants of, 322–323
Semantic selection criteria
attenuation theory, 56
filter theory, 56
Semanticity, 291–292
Semantics, 284
and disambiguation, 326–328
and syntax, 321
Sensitization, 179
Sensory memory, 125–129, 148
Sensory-motor stage (of child development),
340
conservation, 341
Sensory neuron, 11
Sequence learning, 178–179
Serial bottlenecks, 53–54
Set effects, 202–207
Shape naming, 74–75
Short-term memory, 127–129
Similarity
judgments, 269
measures, 192, 193, 194
and problem perception, 221–222
Similarity principle, 34, 35
Situation models, 334–336
Skill acquisition, 211–215
Skills transfer, 229–232
Sleep
and forgetting, 158
Slot, 112–113
Social contract rules, 244
Social psychology, 2
Social sciences, 2–3
Sociology, 3
Solar system–atom analogy, 189
Soma, 11–12
Somatosensory cortex, 18, 19, 24
Sound errors, 289
Space
allocentric and egocentric representa-
tions, 91–94
Spatial ability, 361–362
Spatial imagery, 88–89
Specific language impairment (SLI), 300
Speech
and brain, 17–18, 282
categorical perception of, 45–47
feature analysis of, 44–45
pause structure in, 287–288
segmentation of, 43
subvocal activity, 295
Speech errors, 288–290
Speech perception, 43–44
Speech recognition, 43–45
voicing feature, 46, 47
Spinal cord, 15
Split-brain patients, 17
Spoonerisms, 288–289, 290
Spreading activation, 135–137, 169, 269
Stanford-Binet intelligence test, 353, 354
Start state, 183, 185
State, 183–185
State-dependent learning, 171
State space, 183
Stereopsis, 32, 33
Stereotyping
and categorical perceptions, 110
Sternberg paradigm, 9, 25
Stimulus-driven attention, 54, 55, 62
Strategic learning, 218–221
Stroop effect, 73–75
Stroop task, 198
Structural ambiguity, 285
Study techniques, 5
for textural material, 142–144
Subgoals, 183, 197
means-ends analysis, 195–196
Subjective probability, 273
neural representations of, 277–279
Subjective utility, 272–273
and framing effects, 273–274
neural representations of, 277–279
Substantia nigra, 17
Subthalamic nucleus, 17
Subtraction solution, 203
Sulcus (pl. sulci), 15
Sultan (ape), 182–183, 192, 198, 295
Superior colliculus, 30
Supramarginal gyrus, 282
Surface perception, 33–34
Survey maps, 89–91
SVO (subject, verb, object) languages, 298
Syllogisms, 238
and atmosphere hypothesis, 249
categorical, 246–248
conditional, 262
process explanations, 250–251
Synapses, 11–12
Syntactic formalisms, 286–291
Syntactic patterns, 320
Syntactic processing
neural indicants of, 322–323
Syntactic structure
processing of, 318–320
Syntax, 284
and disambiguation, 326–328
and semantics, 321
T
Tactical learning, 217–218
Template matching, 36
Template-matching theory of perception, 36
Temporal cortex
categorical information processing, 98
fusiform face area, 60
and memory, 124, 125
and natural categories, 121
parahippocampal place area, 60
visual imagery, 79
Temporal lobes, 15, 16
and natural categories, 120, 121
Temporal-parietal regions
syllogism processing, 238, 239
Temporal regions
and memory, 150, 151
mental imagery, 89
Text processing, 334–336
Textual material
study techniques, 142–144
Texture gradient, 32, 33
Thalamus, 15, 16, 17
Thatcher resignation (1990), 146
Think/no think paradigm, 159, 160
Thorndike learning theory, 6
Thought
and language, 294–300
3-D model, 34, 51
Top-down manner, 220–221
Top-down processing, 47
Topographic organization, 18–19
Tower of Hanoi problem, 196–198, 206
Transcranial magnetic stimulation (TMS),
22–23, 88
Transcription typing
automaticity, 73
Transfer
negative, 232
of skills, 229–232
Transformations, 290–291
constraints on, 310
Transient ambiguity, 323–324
Transient syntactic ambiguity, 327
Tree-structure representations, 286–287
Turing test, 328
2½-D sketch, 34, 51
Two-string problem, 201–202
Two-word utterances, 301
Type 1 processes, 257–258
Type 2 processes, 257
Anderson_8e_SI.indd 405 13/09/14 10:04 AM
406 / S u b j e c t I n d e x
U
Unambiguous sentences, 324
Uncertainty
and decision making, 271–277
Unilateral visual neglect, 65
United States
psychology in, 6–7
Universal statements, 247, 248
Utilization, 313, 329–334
V
Ventromedial prefrontal cortex, 260–261
and framing effects, 276, 278–279
Verbal ability, 360–361
Verbal imagery
versus visual imagery, 79–81
Verbal information
memory for, 98–99
Vertical discontinuity, 37
Video games, action, 230–231
Visual agnosia, 27
Visual array scanning, 84–85
Visual attention, 58–69
neural basis of, 60–61
Visual-based categories, 121
Visual cells
information coding in, 31–32
Visual cortex, 16, 18, 28
cell response patterns, 31
and natural categories, 121
primary, 30–31, 32
Visual cortical cells, 31
Visual field, 30–31, 58–59
neglect of, 65–66
Visual imagery, 82–96
and brain areas, 87–88
and recall, 145
versus verbal imagery, 79–81
and visual perception, 95–96
Visual images
and visual perception, 86–87
Visual information
memory for, 99–101
Visual information processing, 28–31
Visual neglect, unilateral, 65
Visual pattern recognition, 35–43
Visual perception
in brain, 27–35
and visual imagery, 95–96
and visual images, 86–87
Visual scenes
and context, 50–51
Visual search, 61–62
Visual sensory memory, 125–126
Visual sensory store, 126
Visuospatial sketchpad, 129, 131
Vitreous humor, 28–29
Vocabulary
mnemonic techniques, 104
Voice-onset time, 45, 46
Voicing, 44, 45, 46, 47
W
Wason selection task, 242–243, 245, 246,
257
Water jug problems, 193–194, 202–203
Way-finding, 90
Wechsler Adult Intelligence Scale-Revised
(WAIS-R), 350
Wechsler intelligence test, 353, 354
Wernicke’s aphasia, 282
Wernicke’s area, 15, 16, 17, 18
and language, 282
visual imagery, 79
Where-what visual pathways, 28, 31
Whole-report procedure, 126
Whorfian hypothesis of linguistic
determinism, 295–297
Williams syndrome, 300
Word context, 48
Word errors, 289
Word length effect, 130
Word order
and language acquisition, 302
language and thought, 298
and parsing, 318–319
Word recognition
automaticity, 73–75
and context, 49–50
Word superiority effect, 48
Words
memory for, 140
recognition memory for, 102
Working memory, 129–132, 133, 147
and age, 352
Baddeley’s theory of, 129–131
and conservation, 341
long-term, 133
and mental capacity, 347–348
practice, 230
of primates, 131–132
and rate of information processing, 363
and verbal ability, 361
World War II
cognitive psychology during, 7–8
Anderson_8e_SI.indd 406 13/09/14 10:04 AM
Cover
Title
Copyright
Contents
Preface
Chapter 1 The Science of Cognition
Motivations for Studying Cognitive Psychology
Intellectual Curiosity
Implications for Other Fields
Practical Applications
The History of Cognitive Psychology
Early History
Psychology in Germany: Focus on Introspective Observation
Implications: What does cognitive psychology tell us about how to study effectively?
Psychology in America: Focus on Behavior
The Cognitive Revolution: AI, Information Theory, and Linguistics
Information-Processing Analyses
Cognitive Neuroscience
Information Processing: The Communicative Neurons
The Neuron
Neural Representation of Information
Organization of the Brain
Localization of Function
Topographic Organization
Methods in Cognitive Neuroscience
Neural Imaging Techniques
Using fMRI to Study Equation Solving
Chapter 2 Perception
Visual Perception in the Brain
Early Visual Information Processing
Information Coding in Visual Cells
Depth and Surface Perception
Object Perception
Visual Pattern Recognition
Template-Matching Models
Implications: Separating humans from BOTs
Feature Analysis
Object Recognition
Face Recognition
Speech Recognition
Feature Analysis of Speech
Categorical Perception
Context and Pattern Recognition
Massaro’s FLMP Model for Combination of Context and Feature Information
Other Examples of Context and Recognition
Conclusions
Chapter 3 Attention and Performance
Serial Bottlenecks
Auditory Attention
The Filter Theory
The Attenuation Theory and the Late-Selection Theory
Visual Attention
The Neural Basis of Visual Attention
Visual Search
The Binding Problem
Neglect of the Visual Field
Object-Based Attention
Central Attention: Selecting Lines of Thought to Pursue
Implications: Why is cell phone use and driving a dangerous combination?
Automaticity: Expertise Through Practice
The Stroop Effect
Prefrontal Sites of Executive Control
Conclusions
Chapter 4 Mental Imagery
Verbal Imagery Versus Visual Imagery
Implications: Using brain activation to read people’s minds
Visual Imagery
Image Scanning
Visual Comparison of Magnitudes
Are Visual Images Like Visual Perception?
Visual Imagery and Brain Areas
Imagery Involves Both Spatial and Visual Components
Cognitive Maps
Egocentric and Allocentric Representations of Space
Map Distortions
Conclusions: Visual Perception and Visual Imagery
Chapter 5 Representation of Knowledge
Knowledge and Regions of the Brain
Memory for Meaningful Interpretations of Events
Memory for Verbal Information
Memory for Visual Information
Importance of Meaning to Memory
Implications of Good Memory for Meaning
Implications: Mnemonic techniques for remembering vocabulary items
Propositional Representations
Amodal Versus Perceptual Symbol Systems
Embodied Cognition
Conceptual Knowledge
Semantic Networks
Schemas
Abstraction Theories Versus Exemplar Theories
Natural Categories and Their Brain Representations
Conclusions
Chapter 6 Human Memory: Encoding and Storage
Memory and the Brain
Sensory Memory Holds Information Briefly
Visual Sensory Memory
Auditory Sensory Memory
A Theory of Short-Term Memory
Working Memory Holds the Information Needed to Perform a Task
Baddeley’s Theory of Working Memory
The Frontal Cortex and Primate Working Memory
Activation and Long-Term Memory
An Example of Activation Calculations
Spreading Activation
Practice and Memory Strength
The Power Law of Learning
Neural Correlates of the Power Law
Factors Influencing Memory
Elaborative Processing
Techniques for Studying Textual Material
Incidental Versus Intentional Learning
Implications: How does the method of loci help us organize recall?
Flashbulb Memories
Conclusions
Chapter 7 Human Memory: Retention and Retrieval
Are Memories Really Forgotten?
The Retention Function
How Interference Affects Memory
The Fan Effect: Networks of Associations
The Interfering Effect of Preexisting Memories
The Controversy Over Interference and Decay
An Inhibitory Explanation of Forgetting?
Redundancy Protects Against Interference
Retrieval and Inference
Plausible Retrieval
The Interaction of Elaboration and Inferential Reconstruction
Eyewitness Testimony and the False-Memory Controversy
Implications: How have advertisers used knowledge of cognitive psychology?
False Memories and the Brain
Associative Structure and Retrieval
The Effects of Encoding Context
The Encoding-Specificity Principle
The Hippocampal Formation and Amnesia
Implicit Versus Explicit Memory
Implicit Versus Explicit Memory in Normal Participants
Procedural Memory
Conclusions: The Many Varieties of Memory in the Brain
Chapter 8 Problem Solving
The Nature of Problem Solving
A Comparative Perspective on Problem Solving
The Problem-Solving Process: Problem Space and Search
Problem-Solving Operators
Acquisition of Operators
Analogy and Imitation
Analogy and Imitation from an Evolutionary and Brain Perspective
Operator Selection
The Difference-Reduction Method
Means-Ends Analysis
The Tower of Hanoi Problem
Goal Structures and the Prefrontal Cortex
Problem Representation
The Importance of the Correct Representation
Functional Fixedness
Set Effects
Incubation Effects
Insight
Conclusions
Appendix: Solutions
Chapter 9 Expertise
Brain Changes with Skill Acquisition
General Characteristics of Skill Acquisition
Three Stages of Skill Acquisition
Power-Law Learning
The Nature of Expertise
Proceduralization
Tactical Learning
Strategic Learning
Problem Perception
Pattern Learning and Memory
Implications: Computers achieve chess expertise differently than humans
Long-Term Memory and Expertise
The Role of Deliberate Practice
Transfer of Skill
Theory of Identical Elements
Educational Implications
Intelligent Tutoring Systems
Conclusions
Chapter 10 Reasoning
Reasoning and the Brain
Reasoning About Conditionals
Evaluation of Conditional Arguments
Evaluating Conditional Arguments in a Larger Context
The Wason Selection Task
Permission Interpretation of the Conditional
Probabilistic Interpretation of the Conditional
Final Thoughts on the Connective If
Deductive Reasoning: Reasoning About Quantifiers
The Categorical Syllogism
The Atmosphere Hypothesis
Limitations of the Atmosphere Hypothesis
Process Explanations
Inductive Reasoning and Hypothesis Testing
Hypothesis Formation
Hypothesis Testing
Scientific Discovery
Implications: How convincing is a 90% result?
Dual-Process Theories
Conclusions
Chapter 11 Decision Making
The Brain and Decision Making
Probabilistic Judgment
Bayes’s Theorem
Base-Rate Neglect
Conservatism
Correspondence to Bayes’s Theorem with Experience
Judgments of Probability
The Adaptive Nature of the Recognition Heuristic
Making Decisions Under Uncertainty
Framing Effects
Implications: Why are adolescents more likely to make bad decisions?
Neural Representation of Subjective Utility and Probability
Conclusions
Chapter 12 Language Structure
Language and the Brain
The Field of Linguistics
Productivity and Regularity
Linguistic Intuitions
Competence Versus Performance
Syntactic Formalisms
Phrase Structure
Pause Structure in Speech
Speech Errors
Transformations
What Is So Special About Human Language?
Implications: Ape language and the ethics of experimentation
The Relation Between Language and Thought
The Behaviorist Proposal
The Whorfian Hypothesis of Linguistic Determinism
Does Language Depend on Thought?
The Modularity of Language
Language Acquisition
The Issue of Rules and the Case of Past Tense
The Quality of Input
A Critical Period for Language Acquisition
Language Universals
The Constraints on Transformations
Parameter Setting
Conclusions: The Uniqueness of Language: A Summary
Chapter 13 Language Comprehension
Brain and Language Comprehension
Parsing
Constituent Structure
Immediacy of Interpretation
The Processing of Syntactic Structure
Semantic Considerations
The Integration of Syntax and Semantics
Neural Indicants of Syntactic and Semantic Processing
Ambiguity
Neural Indicants of the Processing of Transient Ambiguity
Lexical Ambiguity
Modularity Compared with Interactive Processing
Implications: Intelligent chatterboxes
Utilization
Bridging Versus Elaborative Inferences
Inference of Reference
Pronominal Reference
Negatives
Text Processing
Situation Models
Conclusions
Chapter 14 Differences in C Individual Differences in Cognition
Cognitive Development
Piaget’s Stages of Development
Conservation
What Develops?
The Empiricist-Nativist Debate
Increased Mental Capacity
Increased Knowledge
Cognition and Aging
Summary for Cognitive Development
Psychometric Studies of Cognition
Intelligence Tests
Factor Analysis
Implications: Does IQ determine success in life?
Reasoning Ability
Verbal Ability
Spatial Ability
Conclusions from Psychometric Studies
Conclusions
Glossary
A
B
C
D
E
F
G
H
I
K
L
M
N
O
P
R
S
T
U
V
W
References
Name Index
A
B
C
D
E
F
G
H
I
J
K
L
M
N
O
P
Q
R
S
T
U
V
W
Y
Z
Subject Index
A
B
C
D
E
F
G
H
I
J
K
L
M
N
O
P
Q
R
S
T
U
V
W
2015-01-07T18:27:37+0000
Preflight Ticket Signature
E-mail address: fusi@cns.unibe.ch (S. Fusi).
Neurocomputing 38}40 (2001) 1223}1228
Long term memory:
Encoding and storing strategies of the brain
Stefano Fusi
Institute of Physiology, University of Bern, Bu( hlplatz 5, 3012 Bern, Switzerland
Abstract
Plastic material devices, either arti”cial or biological, should be capable of rapidly modifying
their internal state to acquire information and, at the same time, preserve it for long periods (the
stability}plasticity dilemma). Here we compare, in a simple and intuitive way, memory stability
against noise of two di!erent strategies based, respectively, on fully analog devices that
accumulate linearly small changes and on systems with a limited number of stable states and
threshold mechanisms. We show that the discrete systems are more stable, even with short
inherent time constants, and can easily exploit the noise in the input to control the learning rate.
We “nally demonstrate the strategy by discussing a model of a biologically plausible spike-
driven synapse. � 2001 Elsevier Science B.V. All rights reserved.
Keywords: Synaptic plasticity; Long term memory; Learning
1. Introduction
Material (arti”cial or biological) learning devices, like the synapses, have the
capability of changing their internal states in order to acquire (learn) and store
(memorize) information about the statistics of the incoming #ux of stimulations. In
a realistic situation, the stimulations carrying relevant information are separated
by long time intervals of noisy input which tends to erase the memory of the
previously acquired information.Moreover the interference of novel stimulations with
already acquired older &memories’ may give rise to memory loss (e.g. the oldest
stimulations are forgotten to make room for the new ones). This is also known as the
0925-2312/01/$ – see front matter � 2001 Elsevier Science B.V. All rights reserved.
PII: S 0 9 2 5 – 2 3 1 2 ( 0 1 ) 0 0 5 7 1 – 9
stability}plasticity dilemma: the memory should be stable against irrelevant inputs
(e.g. noise) for long periods and, at the same time, the internal state should be rapidly
modi”ed to acquire the information conveyed by the relevant inputs. This dilemm
a
becomes particularly arduous when dealing with material memory devices that do not
allow arbitrarily large time constants or parameters “ne tuning, especially if the
devices are small (e.g. it is reasonable to assume that permanent changes can not be
arbitrarily small).
Here we show one possible encoding and storing strategy that solves this dilemma
and we exemplify it by discussing a model of a spike-driven learning synapse. The
strategy is based on the assumption that information to be coded is redundant: e.g. for
the synapses this means that many cells on the dendritic tree carry similar informa-
tion.We compare two possible scenarios: in the “rst each synapse is described in terms
of one continuous internal variable x. In the absence of any stimulation, the value
encoded by x is preserved forever. In the second, the synapse is discrete on long time
scales: it has only a limited number of attracting stable states: when x drifts away from
one of them, a recalling force drives it back to the closest stable state. To make
a change permanent, the internal variable should cross some threshold, to be then
attracted towards a di!erent stable state. Let K be the number of stable states and �x
the minimal distance between two stable states.
2. Preserving information: The stability problem
We now consider the current generated by the synaptic inputs as the relevant
variable. We assume that it is approximately the linear sum of many input neuronal
activities a
�
multiplied by the corresponding weights J
�
, which, in turn, depend on the
internal state of the synapses. Let
I
�
be the current induced by N neurons that encode
the same information, i.e. that are activated in the same way by a generic stimulus
(a
�
“a for i”1,2,N):
I
�
”
1
N
�
�
���
J
�
a
�
”
a
N
�
�
���
J
�
.
If we start from the fully analog synaptic values and we clamp them to the closest
stable states (see Fig. 1), the error on I
�
goes as &1/(K�N). If N is large enough (the
code is redundant), the error becomes negligible and there is no relevant loss of
information, which would be the only disadvantage of the discrete code. This is
a known property of some neural networks (see e.g. [6]).
However, memory preservation is much more stable in the case of discrete synapses
since the e!ects of noise do not accumulate. Let �t be the typical `responsea time of the
synaptic device, i.e. the time interval during which any change of an internal variable
is established: the noise induces small jumps �x with probability p, either upwards or
downwards, once every �t. The ratio p/�t can also be seen as the rate of events that can
induce permanent changes (e.g. the spikes). Let � be the time constant of the recalling
force: no matter how far x gets from one stable state, in a time of the order of �, it is
1224 S. Fusi / Neurocomputing 38}40 (2001) 1223}1228
Fig. 1. Clipping synaptic e$cacies: passing from fully analog synapses (left) to three-state synaptic e$cacies
(right) does not degrade much of the memory. The input neurons (below) are arranged in such a way that
the “rst N neurons are driven by a generic stimulus to the same activity level. These neurons carry the same
information (redundancy) for that speci”c stimulus. The e$cacies are di!erent because other uncorrelated
stimuli, activating di!erent subsets of neurons, had been previously encoded. When clipped to the closest
stable state, the synapses are pushed up and down and the “nal `errora on the a!erent current I
�
, generated
by N neurons, is equivalent to a noise whose amplitude scales as 1/�N.
driven back to the closest stable state. For the fully analog synapse, after time ¹, the
mean displacement is of the order of �x�p¹/�t. Hence, to have an error of �x, one
has to wait a time of the order of:
¹��&�t�
�x
�x�
�
p��.
If the internal variable x hits one of the boundaries, this time is even shorter [4]. For
the discrete synapse, the same error �x is produced when a #uctuation drives the
internal variable across the threshold. This happens with a probability &(p�/�t)� per
� where h”�/�x is the number of jumps required to reach �. Hence
¹��
&�t
�
�t�
p�
�t�
��
, (1)
which can be much longer than the time of the fully analog synapse, especially if p is
small. It can be so long, that x practically never hits the boundaries (see Section 4). The
best case is when h is maximal, i.e. when the synapse is binary. The same behavior
could be obtained in the analog case by adding an extra device that triggers perma-
nent modi”cations only if some threshold is crossed. However, there is accumulating
experimental evidence that the single synaptic contacts are actually binary on long
time scales [5].
3. Acquiring information: The plasticity problem
It was rather intuitive and well known that discreteness can increase stability
without necessarily degrading memory performance. What was less clear is whether
this is still true in case of on-line learning, when discrete synapses are updated after
every stimulus presentation. Actually discreteness can be advantageous also in this
S. Fusi / Neurocomputing 38}40 (2001) 1223}1228 1225
Fig. 2. Updating synaptic e$cacies. The scheme is described in Fig. 1. Upon the presentation of a generic
stimulus, the analog synapses (left) are potentiated by �”�x/4. Since theN synapses see the same pre- and
post-synaptic activity they are all updated in the same way. The same change in I
�
can be obtained in the
discrete case by modifying only a fourth of the N synapses (synapse �2 in the “gure). This can be obtained
with a stochastic selection mechanism that updates each synapse with probability q”1/4. Interestingly the
presentation of a generic pattern interferes with the memory of other uncorrelated patterns in the same way
in the two scenarios. Indeed, if f is the fraction of neurons activated by a di!erent stimulus, the “nal change
in its current would be fN� in the analog case and fqN�x in the discrete case. For a more general analytical
study see [1].
case. Since the code is redundant, there is no need to modify all the synapses. If the
fraction of synapses that are changed following each stimulation is small (slow
learning), it is possible to better redistribute the synaptic &memory’ resources among
the di!erent patterns of stimulation and actually recover the optimal storage capacity
even with binary synapses [1]. Slow learning is usually di$cult because it is rather
unlikely that the minimal change � inducible by the input is arbitrarily small. After
M repetitions of the same signal, the minimal change of I
�
would be M�. In the
discrete case, the noise superposed to the stimulations can turn in our favor by
providing a triggering signal which selects in a local and unbiased way a small fraction
of synapses to be changed. With the threshold mechanism of the discrete case, the
input, at parity of signal, can induce or not a permanent change, i.e. a transition to
a di!erent stable state. In this case the minimal change in Iwould beMq�x, where q is
the transition probability for each synapse. q�x can be much smaller than � and the
average number of synapses changed after each repetition can be even(1 (see Fig. 2).
This scheme has the very attractive feature that it transfers part of the updating
process outside the device (e.g. embedded in the input): q is not necessarily related to
the intrinsic dynamics of the system. This can be a much better strategy, especially for
small devices with short time constants.
4. Spike-driven synaptic plasticity
To demonstrate how the load of generating low probability events can be transfer-
red outside the device, we discuss a model of a bistable (K”2) spike-driven learning
synapse which has been recently introduced [3]. The transitions between the two
states are activity dependent and stochastic, even without any intrinsic noise source in
the synaptic device. The synapse exploits the #uctuations in the inter-spike intervals,
1226 S. Fusi / Neurocomputing 38}40 (2001) 1223}1228
Fig. 3. Simulation of stochastic LTP. Pre- and post-synaptic neurons have the same mean rate and the
synapse starts from the same initial value. At parity of activity (signal), the “nal state is di!erent in the two
cases.
Fig. 4. Contour plots of LTP and LTD probabilities (q) on log scale vs pre- and post-synaptic neuron rates
for a 500 ms stimulation. LTP occurs when pre- and post-synaptic rates are both high. Around the white
plateau, P
���
drops sharply and becomes negligible for spontaneous rates. The strong non-linearity allows
to discriminate easily between relevant signals and background noise.
which are the results of the collective dynamics of the network. This noise is always
superposed to the signal (pre- and post-synaptic mean frequencies) during the stimula-
tion and is di!erent from synapse to synapse. Each pre-synaptic spike drives the
internal state x either up or down depending on whether the post-synaptic depolariz-
ation is above or below the threhsold �
�
. LTP/LTD might occur or not at parity of
mean pre-synaptic and post-synaptic activities (see Fig. 3). In this case p (see Eq. (1)) is
the probability of coincidence of two events (e.g. a pre-synaptic spike and high
depolarization) and hence can be very small. In Fig. 4 we show that the stochastic
transitions between stable states are easily manipulable. In the presence of noise (low,
spontaneous activity), the time to wait for a transition can be of the order of years,
even if the longest time constant � is of the order of 100 ms, whereas under stimulation
(higher frequencies) the transition probabilities are easily controllable in the range
S. Fusi / Neurocomputing 38}40 (2001) 1223}1228 1227
10��}10��, as expected from Eq. (1). Extensive simulations of the learning process in
networks of integrate-and-“re neurons connected by the proposed synapse are pre-
sented in [2].
We believe that this strategy based on the combination of discreteness and external
stochasticity is a good general strategy for storing variables on long time scales and it
is likely to underlie the basic mechanisms of many other biological small systems.
Moreover this analysis shows that synaptic models in which single events (e.g. single
spikes) modify permanently the synaptic e$cacy can be hardly used as long term
memory devices since the information acquired during the stimulation would be
erased in a short time by the spontaneous activity.
References
[1] D.J. Amit, S. Fusi, Learning in neural networks with material synapses, Neural Comput. 6 (1994)
957}982.
[2] P. Del Giudice, M. Mattia, Long and short term synaptic plasticity and the formation of working
memory: a case study, Neurocomputing 38}40 (2001) 1175}1180, this issue.
[3] S. Fusi, M. Annunziato, D. Badoni, A. Salamon, D.J. Amit, Spike-driven synaptic plasticity: theory,
simulation, VLSI implementation, Neural Comput. 12 (2000) 2227}2258.
[4] G. Parisi, A memory which forgets, J. Phys. A 19 (1986) L617.
[5] C.C.H. Petersen, R.C. Malenka, R.A. Nicoll, J.J. Hop”eld, All-or-none potentiation at CA3-CA1
synapses, Proc.Natl.Acad.Sci. 95 (1998) 4732.
[6] H. Sompolinsky, The theory of neural networks: the Hebb rule and beyond, in: L. van Hemmen, I.
Morgenstern (Eds.), Heidelberg Colloquium on Glassy Dynamics, Springer, 1987.
Stefano Fusi was born in 1968 in Florence, Italy. He received his master degree in
physics from the university of Roma in 1992. He had been working as a researcher
in the National Institute of Nuclear Physics (INFN, Roma) from 1993 to 1999 and
received a Ph.D. in physics from the HebrewUniversity of Jerusalem in 1999. He is
currently working in the Institute of Physiology of Bern. His research interests
include long-term synaptic plasticity, in vivo experiments on behaving monkeys,
neuromorphic VLSI hardware and analytical studies of networks of spiking
neurons.
1228 S. Fusi / Neurocomputing 38}40 (2001) 1223}1228
J Sleep Res. 2022;31:e13527. wileyonlinelibrary.com/journal/jsr | 1 of 12
https://doi.org/10.1111/jsr.13527
1 | INTRODUC TION
Previous studies report that false memories can be influenced by
sleep (for a review see Conte & Ficca, 2013; Landmann et al., 2014).
Among the first to investigate the relationship between sleep and
false memories, Diekelmann, Born, and Wagner (2010), Diekelmann,
Landolt, Lahl, Born, and Wagner (2008) showed that sleep- deprived
individuals produce more false memories at morning re- test com-
pared to participants in an undisturbed sleep condition. The au-
thors specified that this effect could be mainly linked to an impaired
memory retrieval process. In fact, acute sleep loss can affect several
cognitive functions related to prefrontal activity that are essential
to accurate recall from long- term memory (Durmer & Dinges, 2005;
Frenda & Fenn, 2016).
Received: 28 June 2021 | Revised: 16 November 2021 | Accepted: 18 November 2021
DOI: 10.1111/jsr.13527
R E S E A R C H A R T I C L E
False memories formation is increased in individuals with
insomnia
Serena Malloggi1 | Francesca Conte2 | Oreste De Rosa2 | Stefania Righi1 |
Giorgio Gronchi1 | Gianluca Ficca2 | Fiorenza Giganti1
1Department of NEUROFARBA,
University of Florence, Florence, Italy
2Department of Psychology, University of
Campania L. Vanvitelli, Caserta, Italy
Correspondence
Serena Malloggi, Department of
NEUROFARBA, University of Florence,
Via di San Salvi 12, 50135, Florence, Italy.
Email: serena.malloggi@unifi.it
Funding information
V:ALERE 2019
Summary
Previous studies suggest that sleep can influence false memories formation.
Specifically, acute sleep loss has been shown to promote false memories production
by impairing memory retrieval at subsequent testing. Surprisingly, the relationship
between sleep and false memories has only been investigated in healthy subjects
but not in individuals with insomnia, whose sleep is objectively impaired compared
to healthy subjects. Indeed, this population shows several cognitive impairments
involving prefrontal functioning that could affect source monitoring processes and
contribute to false memories generation. Moreover, it has been previously reported
that subjects with insomnia differentially process sleep- related versus neutral stimuli.
Therefore, the aim of the present study was to compare false memories production
between individuals with insomnia symptoms and good sleepers, and to evaluate
the possible influence of stimulus category (neutral versus sleep- related) in the two
groups. The results show that false memories are globally increased in participants re-
porting insomnia symptoms compared to good sleepers. A reduction in source moni-
toring ability was also observed in the former group, suggesting that an impairment
of this executive function could be especially involved in false memories formation.
Moreover, our data seem to confirm that false memories production in individuals
with insomnia symptoms appears significantly modulated by stimulus category.
K E Y W O R D S
Deese– Roediger– McDermott (DRM) paradigm, false memory, insomnia disorder, sleep- related
stimuli
This is an open access article under the terms of the Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs L
icense
, which permits use and distribution in
any medium, provided the original work is properly cited, the use is non-commercial and no modifications or adaptations are made.
© 2021 The Authors. Journal of Sleep Research published by John Wiley & Sons Ltd on behalf of European Sleep Research Society.
13652869, 2022, 3, D
ow
nloaded from
https://onlinelibrary.w
iley.com
/doi/10.1111/jsr.13527 by L
iberty U
niversity, W
iley O
nline L
ibrary on [07/02/2023]. See the T
erm
s and C
onditions (https://onlinelibrary.w
iley.com
/term
s-and-conditions) on W
iley O
nline L
ibrary for rules of use; O
A
articles are governed by the applicable C
reative C
om
m
ons L
icense
www.wileyonlinelibrary.com/journal/jsr
mailto:
https://orcid.org/0000-0003-1813-8916
https://orcid.org/0000-0002-5429-5831
https://orcid.org/0000-0001-6964-5024
https://orcid.org/0000-0001-7852-2448
https://orcid.org/0000-0003-0543-4900
https://orcid.org/0000-0001-9519-4351
https://orcid.org/0000-0002-9362-5258
mailto:serena.malloggi@unifi.it
http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-nd/4.0/
http://crossmark.crossref.org/dialog/?doi=10.1111%2Fjsr.13527&domain=pdf&date_stamp=2021-12-01
2 of 12 | MALLOGGI ET AL.
Most of the available studies on sleep and false memories have
been conducted on healthy subjects exposed to experimental sleep
deprivation (see Diekelmann et al., 2008, 2010 or restriction e.g. Lo,
Chong, Ganesan, Leong, & Chee, 2016), while clinical samples have
been neglected. As there is growing acceptance that the nature and
severity of the cognitive consequences of these experimental sleep
interventions differ from those reported in chronic sleep disorders
(Shekleton, Rogers, & Rajaratnama, 2010), we intended to assess the
effect of chronically disturbed sleep on false memories production.
Insomnia is a sleep disorder characterised by subjective com-
plaints of non- restorative sleep and of difficulties in initiating and/
or maintaining sleep, accompanied by decreased daytime func-
tioning, which persist in time (American Psychiatric Association,
2013). Objective sleep impairments are also often reported in this
population, such as changes in sleep architecture (i.e. reduction in
slow- wave sleep and rapid eye movement [REM] sleep duration)
compared to healthy subjects (Baglioni et al., 2014). Moreover, indi-
viduals with insomnia show several cognitive impairments that could
contribute to false memories generation. It has been observed that
they perform more poorly than good sleepers on complex cognitive
tasks depending on the efficiency of the prefrontal cortex, e.g. in
tests assessing working memory (e.g. retention and manipulation
of previously acquired information), problem solving, information
processing, and selective attention (for a review see Fortier- Brochu,
Beaulieu- Bonneau, Ivers, & Morin, 2012).
Other factors are likely to modulate the effects of disordered
sleep on false memories production. For instance, an important
one could be the nature of the administered stimuli. Indeed, several
studies report that individuals with insomnia preferentially focus
their attention on stimuli that are related to sleep, which appear to
them more salient than neutral ones (Espie, Broomfield, MacMahon,
Macphee, & Taylor, 2006; Harvey, 2002). This phenomenon is
known as “attentional bias” and has been previously observed in this
population through specific cognitive tasks, such as the Stroop task
(Spiegelhalder, Espie, Nissen, & Riemann, 2008; Zhou et al., 2018),
the dot probe task (MacMahon, Broomfield, & Espie, 2006), prim-
ing tasks (Giganti et al., 2017), and eye- tracking paradigms (Woods,
Scheepers, Ross, Espie, & Biello, 2013). Overall, these studies sug-
gest that sleep- related stimuli induce a higher activation in individ-
uals with insomnia relative to good sleepers, leading the former to
respond differently to these stimuli. For instance, it has been ob-
served that individuals with insomnia, compared to good sleepers,
show slower reaction times for sleep- related stimuli at the Stroop
task (Spiegelhalder et al., 2008; Zhou et al., 2018) and that they rec-
ognise these stimuli at lower spatial frequencies in a priming task
(Giganti et al., 2017). Instead, the effect of stimulus category has
not yet been investigated in tasks based on semantically associated
items, such as the Deese– Roediger– McDermott paradigm (DRM;
Roediger & McDermott, 1995).
A complementary hypothesis has been sometimes put forward
(e.g. Williams, Mathews, & MacLeod, 1996) that the attentional
bias may reflect the way in which “experts” react to their expertise-
related stimuli when performing specific tasks. A few studies
actually show that experts generally produce higher rates of false
memories for words that are related to the domain of their expertise
compared to non- experts (Baird, 2003; Castel, McCabe, Roediger, &
Heitman, 2007). This finding is attributed to the stronger semantic
activation occurring in experts: in the case of DRM word lists, ex-
pertise would increase the number and strength of associations be-
tween expertise- related terms and enhance the spreading activation
to include the non- presented critical words.
In light of this literature, the investigation of the effects of stimu-
lus category in a DRM task in individuals with insomnia, who may be
considered “experts” and strongly activated by the theme of sleep
(Espie et al., 2006; Harvey, 2002), appears particularly interesting.
The first aim of the present study was to assess whether chronic
poor sleep quality in subjects with insomnia affects false memories
production. To this end, we compared performance at the DRM par-
adigm (Roediger & McDermott, 1995) between a group of individu-
als showing insomnia symptoms and one of good sleepers. In light of
literature on the attentional bias described in people with insomnia
(Giganti et al., 2017; Harris et al., 2015), we also evaluated the possible
effect of stimulus category by comparing performance at neutral and
sleep- related word lists included in the DRM task. Finally, consider-
ing the association between false memories production and executive
functioning (e.g. Leding, 2012; Peters, Jelicic, Verbeek, & Merckelbach,
2007), as well as the observed impairments of these functions in in-
somnia (for example see Haimov, Hanuka, & Horowitz, 2008; Joo et al.,
2013), we assessed in both groups working memory, inhibitory control
and source monitoring ability, the latter being considered as especially
linked to false memories formation (Mitchell & Johnson, 2000).
2 | METHODS
2.1 | Participants and procedure
A total of 80 potential participants were approached at university
sites (i.e. lecture halls, library, etc.) and asked to complete a set of
screening questionnaires: the Pittsburgh Sleep Quality Index (PSQI;
Italian version from Curcio et al., 2013), Insomnia Severity Index
(ISI; Italian version from Castronovo et al., 2016), Sleep Disorder
Questionnaire (SDQ; Violani, Devoto, Lucidi, Lombardo, & Russo,
2004), Beck Depression Inventory II (BDI- II; Italian version from
Sica & Ghisi, 2007), and Beck Anxiety Inventory (BAI; Italian version
from Sica & Ghisi, 2007) described in detail below. In addition, they
were administered a semi- structured interview at the sleep labora-
tory, conducted by a licensed psychologist who had received spe-
cific training, in order to assess general medical condition and health
habits, presence of psychiatric disorders and sleep disorders. The
presence of clinical insomnia was specifically addressed by means of
the semi- structured interview (Morin, 1993).
Based on scores at the screening instruments and on the inter-
view, 53 university students were recruited for the study and in-
cluded in either the “good sleep group” (GS Group, n = 28) or the
“insomnia group” (IN Group, n = 25). Inclusion criteria common to
13652869, 2022, 3, D
ow
nloaded from
https://onlinelibrary.w
iley.com
/doi/10.1111/jsr.13527 by L
iberty U
niversity, W
iley O
nline L
ibrary on [07/02/2023]. See the T
erm
s and C
onditions (https://onlinelibrary.w
iley.com
/term
s-and-conditions) on W
iley O
nline L
ibrary for rules of use; O
A
articles are governed by the applicable C
reative C
om
m
ons L
icense
| 3 of 12MALLOGGI ET AL.
both groups were: absence of any relevant somatic or psychiatric
disorder; absence of clinically significant depression and anxiety
symptoms (BDI- II score ≤29; BAI score ≤25); no history of drug or al-
cohol abuse; absence of sleep disorders (other than insomnia for the
IN Group) and of any sleep apnea or respiratory disorder symptom;
having a regular sleep– wake pattern (e.g. individuals with irregular
study or working habits such as shift- working were excluded); no use
of psychoactive medication or alcohol at bedtime. In addition, for
inclusion in the IN Group, participants had to score ≥5 at the PSQI,
≥8 at the ISI and to be classified as presenting “clinically significant
insomnia” at the SDQ; further, they had to fully meet Diagnostic and
Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders, fifth edition (DSM- 5) criteria
for Insomnia Disorder, as verified through the interview. Finally, in-
clusion in the GS Group was based on: PSQI score <5, ISI score <8,
being classified as a “good sleeper” at the SDQ, and absence of any
sleep disorder as also verified through the interview.
The two groups did not differ for age, gender distribution, cir-
cadian preference (measured through the reduced version of the
Morningness– Eveningness Questionnaire; Italian version from
Natale, Esposito, Martoni, & Fabbri, 2006) and daytime sleepi-
ness (measured through the Epworth Sleepiness Scale; Italian ver-
sion from Vignatelli et al., 2003). Instead, as expected, significant
between- group differences emerged in several habitual sleep fea-
tures assessed through the PSQI, such as bedtime, sleep duration
and sleep onset latency, as well as in PSQI global scores (Table 1).
Participants were requested to complete a sleep diary on the day
of the DRMs testing session, in order to control that they performed
the task after a night of sleep that was representative of their habit-
ual sleep. In Table 2 we report the sleep measures of the night before
the administration of the memory task in both groups.
All selected participants were individually invited to the sleep
laboratory, where they were administered the DRM paradigm
(Roediger & McDermott, 1995).
On separate days, a subsample of 17 participants from
the IN Group (eight males and nine females; mean [SD] age of
24.5 [2.2] years) and 21 from the GS Group (eight males and 13
females; mean [SD] age of 24.1 [2.2] years) were again invited in-
dividually to the sleep laboratory where they were administered a
set of cognitive tests to evaluate executive functioning and source
monitoring ability. Table 3 lists demographic characteristics, circa-
dian preference, daytime sleepiness and habitual sleep features of
the subsample. All testing sessions (both the DRM and the exec-
utive functioning tasks) were performed in the morning, between
11:00 a.m. and 1:00 p.m., by an experimenter who was blind to the
study group.
There was no money or credit compensation for participating in
the study.
The study design was submitted to the Ethical Committee of the
Department of Psychology, University of Campania “L. Vanvitelli”,
which approved the research (code 22/2020) and certified that the
involvement of human participants was performed according to ac-
ceptable standards.
2.2 | Screening instruments
1. The PSQI (Italian version from Curcio et al., 2013), a self- report
questionnaire evaluating subjective sleep quality in the past
month. It is composed of 19- items grouped into seven sub-
scales: Subjective Sleep Quality, Sleep Latency, Sleep Duration,
Habitual Sleep Efficiency, Sleep Disturbances, Use of Sleep
Medication and Daytime Dysfunctions due to sleepiness. The
PSQI total score ranges from 0 to 21, with higher scores
indicating sleep difficulties and lower sleep quality. The cut-
off score of ≥5 is adopted to discriminate between good and
bad sleepers.
TA B L E 1 Age, gender distribution, circadian preference, daytime sleepiness, habitual sleep features and sleep quality in the insomnia
group (IN Group) and good sleep group (GS Group)
Variable IN Group GS Group Statistical test
Age, years, mean (SD) 25.16 (4.34) 24.10 (3.17) U = 278.50, p = 0.19
Gender, male/female, n 13/12 11/17 χ2 = 0.86, p = 0.862
MEQr score, mean (SD) 13.00 (2.61) 14.54 (3.18) U = 245.00, p = 0.06
ESS score, mean (SD) 7.64 (2.82) 6.32 (3.28) U = 253.00, p = 0.11
Habitual bedtime, hh:mm, mean (SD) 00:32 (00:52) 23:32 (00:59) U = 91.50, p = 0.001
Habitual rise time, hh:mm, mean (SD) 08:08 (01:04) 07:32 (01:23) U = 182.50, p = 0.233
Habitual sleep duration, hh:mm, mean (SD) 06:27 (00:59) 07:41 (00:48) U = 78.50, p < 0.001
Habitual sleep onset latency, hh:mm, mean (SD) 00:25 (00:13) 00:11 (00:05) U = 116.00, p < 0.001
PSQI global score, mean (SD) 8.16 (2.26) 3.21 (0.87) U = 0.000, p < 0.001
ESS, Epworth Sleepiness Scale; GS Group, good sleep group; IN Group, insomnia group; MEQr, Morningness– Eveningness Questionnaire (reduced
version); PSQI, Pittsburgh Sleep Quality Index.
Habitual bedtime, rise time, sleep duration and sleep onset latency were collected through the PSQI. Mann– Whitney U is reported for between-
groups comparisons for all variables except gender. Results of the chi- squared test are reported for differences in gender distribution.
13652869, 2022, 3, D
ow
nloaded from
https://onlinelibrary.w
iley.com
/doi/10.1111/jsr.13527 by L
iberty U
niversity, W
iley O
nline L
ibrary on [07/02/2023]. See the T
erm
s and C
onditions (https://onlinelibrary.w
iley.com
/term
s-and-conditions) on W
iley O
nline L
ibrary for rules of use; O
A
articles are governed by the applicable C
reative C
om
m
ons L
icense
4 of 12 | MALLOGGI ET AL.
2. The ISI (Italian version from Castronovo et al., 2016), assessing
the severity of insomnia symptoms during the previous 2 weeks.
Based on the scores, subjects are classified into four categories:
(a) no clinically significant insomnia (score 0– 7); (b) subthreshold
insomnia (8– 14); (c) clinical insomnia – moderate severity (score
15– 21); (d) clinical insomnia – severe (22– 28).
3. The SDQ (Violani et al., 2004) is a self- rating questionnaire with 27
items evaluating the presence of different sleep problems in the last
month. The first three questions concern symptoms of insomnia,
while the others investigate the presence of excessive sleepiness,
sleep apnea, parasomnias, and snoring. A subsequent set of ques-
tions investigates the duration, frequency, and consequences of the
sleep problem, and is used for the evaluation of the severity of the
sleep disturbances reported. The SDQ permits the classification of
subjects into three main categories: subjects who do not complain
of any sleep disorder; subjects who report the occurrence of sub-
threshold insomnia and subjects with clinically significant insomnia.
4. The BDI- II (Italian version from Sica & Ghisi, 2007) assesses the se-
verity of depressive symptoms. It comprises 21 items and the total
score ranges from 0 to 63, with higher scores indicating more severe
depressive symptoms. Particularly, scores 0– 13 represent minimal
depression, scores 14– 19 mild depression, scores 20– 28 moderate
depression, and scores 29– 63 severe depression symptoms.
5. The BAI (Italian version from Sica & Ghisi, 2007), a self- report in-
strument assessing the presence and severity of anxiety symp-
toms in the past week. It comprises 21 items measuring the
intensity of common somatic and cognitive symptoms of anxiety
through a Likert scale ranging from 0 (Not at all) to 3 (Severely – it
bothered me a lot). The score range is 0– 63, with higher scores in-
dicating more severe anxiety symptoms: specifically, a total score
of 0– 7 is considered to index minimal severity, 8– 15 mild, 16– 25
moderate, and 26– 63 severe.
2.3 | False memories task
In the classical DRM paradigm (Roediger & McDermott, 1995), an
immediate free recall test is administered on a list of words that
are semantically associated to an unstudied critical word (e.g. “ink”,
“paper”, “school”, all related to “pen”). This task reliably produces
high rates of false memories for unstudied critical lures (Roediger &
McDermott, 1995).
TA B L E 2 Sleep features of the night preceding the DRM task session in the insomnia group (IN Group) and good sleep group (GS Group)
Variable IN Group GS Group Statistical test
Bedtime, hh:mm, mean (SD) 00:42 (00:47) 23:46 (00:55) U = 85.50, p = 0.003
Rise time, hh:mm, mean (SD) 07:50 (01:01) 07:48 (00:51) U = 219.50, p = 0.98
Sleep duration, hh:mm, mean (SD) 06:47 (01:01) 07:52 (01:06) U = 0.004, p = 0.004
Sleep onset latency* 3 (i.e. “≥15 min”) 2 (i.e. “10 min”) U = 202.00, p = 0.010
Number of awakenings, mean (SD) 1.2 (1.18) 0.53 (0.83) U = 235.50, p = 0.025
Rise time latency* 2 (i.e. “10 min”) 1 (i.e. “5 min”) U = 206.00, p = 0.019
Sleep features were collected through sleep logs. Mann– Whitney U is reported for between- groups comparisons for all variables. An asterisk (*)
indicates median values. Prior night’s sleep onset latency was obtained through the question: “How long did it take you to fall asleep last night?”
(“<5 min”, “5 min”, “10 min”, “≥15 min”). Rise time latency was obtained through the question: “How long did it take you to rise from bed after this
morning's awakening?” (“<5 min”, “5 min”, “10 min”, “≥15 min”).
TA B L E 3 Age, gender distribution, circadian preference, daytime sleepiness, habitual sleep features and sleep quality in participants of
the subsample
Variable IN Group GS Group Statistical test
Age, years, mean (SD) 24.53 (2.18 24.10 (3.56) U = 143.00, p = 0.31
Gender, male/female, n 8/9 8/13 χ2 = 0.310, p = 0.578
MEQr score, mean (SD) 12.82 (2.51 14.52 (3.61) U = 127.50, p = 0.136
ESS score, mean (SD) 8.35 (3.58 6.57 (3.52) U = 119.00, p = 0.08
Habitual bedtime, hh:mm, mean (SD) 00:36 (00:49 23:21 (00:40) U = 27.50, p < 0.001
Habitual rise time, hh:mm, mean (SD) 07:51 (01:14 07:23 (00:51) U = 87.00, p = 0.305
Habitual sleep duration, hh:mm, mean (SD) 06:22 (00:59 07:39 (00:48) U = 33.50, p = 0.001
Habitual sleep onset latency, hh:mm, mean (SD) 00:27 (00:14 00:10 (00:04) U = 41.00, p <0.001
PSQI global score, mean (SD) 8.35 (3.58 3.19 (0.98) U = 0.000, p ≤ 0.001
ESS, Epworth Sleepiness Scale; GS Group, good sleep group; IN G, insomnia group; MEQr, Morningness– Eveningness Questionnaire (reduced
version); PSQI, Pittsburgh Sleep Quality Index.
Habitual bedtime, rise time, sleep duration and sleep onset latency were collected through the PSQI. Mann– Whitney U is reported for between-
groups comparisons for all variables except gender. Results of the chi squared test are reported for differences in gender distribution.
13652869, 2022, 3, D
ow
nloaded from
https://onlinelibrary.w
iley.com
/doi/10.1111/jsr.13527 by L
iberty U
niversity, W
iley O
nline L
ibrary on [07/02/2023]. See the T
erm
s and C
onditions (https://onlinelibrary.w
iley.com
/term
s-and-conditions) on W
iley O
nline L
ibrary for rules of use; O
A
articles are governed by the applicable C
reative C
om
m
ons L
icense
| 5 of 12MALLOGGI ET AL.
In order to highlight the possible effect of stimulus category, here
we adopted, as in Baird (2003), a reduced version of the DRM para-
digm (Roediger & McDermott, 1995) consisting in the presentation
of four- word lists made up of 15 words each. Indeed, as observed in
a recent meta- analysis (Newbury & Monaghan, 2019), the length of
the lists rather than their number appears to significantly affect false
recall rates (with longer lists producing greater false recall).
The sleep- related list used in this study (i.e. the one correspond-
ing to the unpresented lure “sleep”) was created ad hoc in Italian
following the method used by Iacullo and Marucci (2016), due to the
absence of any such standardised list in Italian. Thus created, the list
was preliminarily presented to 30 university students (21 females
and nine males; mean [SD] age of 24.10 [4.06] years), not enrolled
in the present study, to assess the false recall rate for it (which was
27%). Then, we selected from Iacullo and Marucci (2016) the three
lists showing the most similar false recall rates. The selected lists,
corresponding to the lures “flag”, “pen”, and “river”, all showed a false
recall rate of 21%. Furthermore, in order to test possible differences
between our sleep- related list and the neutral one, 25 individuals
(16 females and nine males; mean [SD] age of 25.88 [3.23] years),
who were not enrolled in the main study, were asked to rate on a 1– 5
Likert scale the sleep- relatedness, familiarity, activation and valence
of each word belonging to the two lists, as well as their respective
critical lures. Comparisons between the two lists revealed no sig-
nificant difference for familiarity (t = −1.00, p = 0.33), activation
(t = 0.57, p = 0.57) or valence (which was judged as neutral for both
lists; t = −1.31, p = 0.20), whereas a significant difference emerged
for sleep- relatedness (t = −17.6, p ≤ 0.001).
As in Roediger and McDermott (1995) and Iacullo and Marucci
(2016), the words in each list were presented in order of associative
strength with the unpresented lure (from strongest to weakest).
As for task administration, the experimenter read the lists aloud
with an interval of 20 s between lists. Participants were instructed
to memorise the words as accurately as possible and were informed
that they would be tested on them later. The “flag” and “river” lists
(List 1 and 4, respectively), here used to control for primacy and re-
cency effects as in Baird (2003), were presented to all participants as
the first and last list of the set, respectively. The order of presenta-
tion of the “pen” and “sleep” lists (List 2 and 3, respectively), instead,
was balanced between subjects (Baird, 2003).
After the “river” list was presented, participants performed the
free recall test. Specifically, they were requested to write down on
a blank piece of paper as many words as possible from all the pre-
sented lists. They were allotted 5 min for recall. In order to hold re-
call time constant between subjects, participants were instructed to
continue thinking about the words for the whole allotted time.
2.4 | Executive functioning tasks
For the assessment of executive functioning we employed classical
tasks that measure the main executive components (e.g. Denckla,
1994; Miyake et al., 2000): specifically, working memory was
evaluated through the Working memory subtests of the Wechsler
Adult Intelligence Scale, fourth edition (WAIS- IV; Wechsler, 2008)
and inhibitory control was tested through the Stroop task (Stroop,
1935). In addition, we created an ad hoc task aimed to evaluate
source monitoring ability, which is deemed to be specifically linked
to false memories formation (Mitchell & Johnson, 2000).
1. Working memory subtests of the WAIS- IV (Wechsler, 2008),
including the Digit Span subtest (made up of three increasingly
difficult tasks: digit span forwards, backwards, and sequencing)
and the Arithmetic subtest (requiring to perform mental arith-
metic problems): taken together, performance at these tasks
provides the Working Memory Index (WMI), a global measure of
the ability to attend to information presented verbally, manipulate
it in short- term memory, and then formulate a response. The
tests were administered according to the standard procedure
reported in the WAIS- IV manual.
2. Stroop Colour and Word Test (Stroop, 1935): here we adopted a
computerised version of the task developed on the Open Sesame
software (version 3.3.8). The stimuli consisted of the words “red,”
“green,” “yellow” and “blue” presented at the centre of a black
computer screen in one of the four colours. The colour of the
word displayed corresponded to its meaning in 50% of the trials
(congruent condition), whereas in the remaining 50% of the tri-
als word colour and meaning were different (incongruent condi-
tion). Subjects had to indicate, as soon as possible, the colour of
the text by pressing a key on the keyboard corresponding to the
effective colour of the text. Subjects performed a short training
phase consisting of 24 trials in order to familiarise with the task
and afterwards they performed the task including 240 trials.
3. Source Monitoring task: a computerised Source Monitoring Task
(see Supporting Information) was included to evaluate the abil-
ity to discriminate between different sources of information. We
developed this task from Nienow and Docherty (2004), who origi-
nally evaluated internal source monitoring ability, that is the abil-
ity to discriminate between two internal sources of information.
According to the classification of source monitoring’s types pro-
posed by Johnson, Hashtroudi, and Lindsay (1993), we extended
the original task in order to test External Source Monitoring (i.e.
the ability to discriminate between two externally derived sources
of information) and Reality Monitoring ability (i.e. the ability to
discriminate between internal and external information sources).
Therefore, our task included three different subtests: Internal
Source Monitoring (I- SM), External Source Monitoring (E- SM) and
Reality Monitoring (RM- SM). Tasks presentation was counterbal-
anced between subjects.
2.5 | Data analysis
Outcome measures of the DRM task were: number of false memo-
ries, i.e. total number of falsely recalled critical lure words; number
of veridical memories, corresponding to the total number of words
13652869, 2022, 3, D
ow
nloaded from
https://onlinelibrary.w
iley.com
/doi/10.1111/jsr.13527 by L
iberty U
niversity, W
iley O
nline L
ibrary on [07/02/2023]. See the T
erm
s and C
onditions (https://onlinelibrary.w
iley.com
/term
s-and-conditions) on W
iley O
nline L
ibrary for rules of use; O
A
articles are governed by the applicable C
reative C
om
m
ons L
icense
6 of 12 | MALLOGGI ET AL.
correctly recalled from the original word lists; number of intrusions,
representing the total number of recalled words not corresponding
to studied items or to the critical lure words. Only performance at
the two experimental lists (“pen” and “sleep” lists) were included in
data analysis, as the first and last lists (“flag” and “river” lists) were
used to control for primacy and recency effects (as in Baird, 2003).
Veridical memories were significantly more numerous for lists one
and four compared to lists two and three (lists one and four: mean
[SD] 11.64 [2.58] versus lists two and three: mean [SD] 9.98 [3.18];
Wilcoxon’s Z: 878.00; p < 0.001; ES:0.624), confirming the presence
of primacy and recency effects.
Concerning executive functioning, the outcome measures were:
digit span scores, arithmetic scores and the WMI obtained from the
WAIS- IV subtests, as well as number of correct responses, number of
errors and response times (ms) for the Stroop task. Finally, Table 4 dis-
plays outcome variables considered for the source monitoring task.
Due to non- normal distribution of the data, we employed non-
parametric statistics. Cardinal variables were compared between the
IN and GS groups through the Mann– Whitney U test. Within- subject
comparisons were performed through the Wilcoxon signed- rank test.
Finally, Spearman and point- biserial correlation analysis were per-
formed to test the association memory performance, cognitive testing,
and source monitoring ability in the whole sample. Spearman correla-
tion was also performed to assess associations between sleep features
of the night before the DRM session and DRM performance in the
whole sample. The statistical significance level was set at p ≤ 0.05.
To test the interaction between groups and stimulus type, we
analysed the data with a mixed model logistic regression using the
statistical software R (version 4.0.3) and the package “lme4”. In this
analysis, we considered the total number of false memories as depen-
dent variable, the group (GS Group and IN Group) as fixed effect. The
random effects were the type of list and participant unique identifier.
We also performed a mediation analysis (using PROCESS macro;
SPSS version 27; Hayes, 2018) to test the role of source monitoring
ability as mediator of the relationship between sleep quality (i.e. IN
Group and GS Group) and the total number of false memories pro-
duced. We considered “Group” as independent variable and the total
number of false memories as dependent variable. The considered
mediator was the source monitoring ability, calculated by summing
up all the correct responses to the three source monitoring subtests
(i.e. I- SM, E- SM, and RM- SM). We calculated the indirect effect of
“Group” on false memories production, through source monitor-
ing ability, quantified as the product of the ordinary least squares
(OLS) regression coefficient estimating source monitoring ability
from “Group” and the OLS regression coefficient estimating false
memories production from source monitoring ability controlling for
“Group”. A bootstrapping procedure (with 5,000 bootstrap samples)
to estimate 95% confidence intervals (CIs) was used. According to
Preacher and Hayes (2008), a 95% CI that does not include zero pro-
vides evidence of a significant indirect effect.
An a priori power analysis was conducted. Taking into account
the sample size of the study and an α level of 0.05, a power analysis
based on Mann– Whitney U test testified that we were able to detect
an effect size equal to p = 0.717 (i.e. P represents the effect size
index (Trumble, Ferrer, Bay, & Mollan, 2020), in particular, P(X<Y)
where X represents random draws from the first probability distri-
bution and Y represents random draws from the other distribution)
with a power equal to 0.80.
TA B L E 4 Outcome variables of the source monitoring task
Source Monitoring task
Subtest Variable Description
I- SM I – correct The number of words correctly attributed to the internal sources of
information
I – Index 1 The proportion of words correctly identified as “said” out of the total
number of words correctly recognised as “old”
I – Index 2 The proportion of words correctly identified as “thought” out of the
total number of words correctly recognised as “old”
E- SM E – correct The number of words correctly attributed to the external sources of
information
E – Index 1 The proportion of words correctly identified as from “man” source
out of the total number of words correctly recognised as “old”
E – Index 2 The proportion of words correctly identified as from “women” source
out of the total number of words correctly recognised as “old”
RM- SM RM – correct The number of words that were correctly attributed to the internal
and the external sources of information
RM – Index 1 The proportion of words correctly identified as from internal source
out of the total number of words correctly recognised as “old”
RM – Index 2 The proportion of words correctly identified as from external source
out of the total number of words correctly recognised as “old”
E- SM, external source monitoring subtask; I- SM, internal source monitoring subtask; RM- SM, reality monitoring subtask.
13652869, 2022, 3, D
ow
nloaded from
https://onlinelibrary.w
iley.com
/doi/10.1111/jsr.13527 by L
iberty U
niversity, W
iley O
nline L
ibrary on [07/02/2023]. See the T
erm
s and C
onditions (https://onlinelibrary.w
iley.com
/term
s-and-conditions) on W
iley O
nline L
ibrary for rules of use; O
A
articles are governed by the applicable C
reative C
om
m
ons L
icense
| 7 of 12MALLOGGI ET AL.
3 | RESULTS
3.1 | False memories task
The IN Group globally produced more false memories (U = 247.00;
p = 0.04; ES = −0.27) than the GS Group (Figure 1). No differences
emerged between groups in the total number of veridical memo-
ries (mean [SD] IN Group 9.44 [3.33] versus GS Group 10.36 [2.93];
U = 284.00, p = 0.24) or in the number of intrusions (mean [SD] IN
Group 1.24 [1.09] versus GS Group 1.18 [1.02]; U = 340.50, p = 0.86).
Moreover, the IN Group generated more false memories
(U = 254.00; p = 0.04; ES = −0.28; Figure 2) and less veridical memo-
ries (U = 242.500; p = 0.05; ES = −0.27; Figure 3) at the sleep- related
list compared to the GS Group. Instead, the two groups did not dif-
fer neither in the number of false memories (mean [SD] IN Group
0.52 [0.51] versus GS Group 0.36 [0.48]; U = 239.00, p = 0.24) nor of
veridical memories (mean [SD] IN Group 5.52 [2.48] versus GS Group
5.50 [1.67]; U = 349.5, p = 0.99) at the neutral list.
As for within- subjects comparisons, the IN Group produced less
veridical memories for the sleep- related list compared to the neutral
list (Z = −2.587, p = 0.01; ES = −0.52; Figure 3), while no differences
between lists emerged in the number of false memories (Z = −0.378,
p = 0.71; Figure 2). The GS Group did not show differences in the
number of false memories (Z = −0.471, p = 0.63; Figure 2) or veridi-
cal memories (Z = −1.81, p = 0.10; Figure 3).
As for the linear regression model, we observed a significant
main effect of Group (F1,51 = 5.00, p = 0.03), whereas no significant
main effect of list type (F1,51 = 0.04, p = 0.84) nor interaction effect
(F1,51 = 0.37, p = 0.55) emerged.
3.2 | Executive functioning tasks
No between- groups differences emerged at the working memory
and Stroop tasks (Table 5).
As for source monitoring ability, the IN Group had lower scores
in Index 1 at the RM- SM subtest compared to the GS Group
(ES = −0.29; Table 6), suggesting difficulties in correctly discrimi-
nating between internal and external sources of information. There
were no other between- groups differences.
The number of false recalls at the sleep- related list showed a
negative correlation with the number of correct responses to the
Stroop task (r = −0.355, p = 0.03) and a positive correlation with the
number of errors (r = 0.355, p = 0.03), while the number of veridi-
cal recalls for the same list positively correlates with the digit span
score (r = 0.376, p = 0.02) and the WMI of the WAIS- IV (r = 0.344,
p = 0.03). Also, the total number of veridical memories showed
a positive correlation with the WMI of the WAIS- IV (r = 0.352,
p = 0.03) and a negative correlation with the total number of er-
rors at the I- SM task (r = −0.322, p = 0.05). As for the relationship
between sleep measures of the night preceding the DRM session
and subsequent DRM performance, we observed a positive correla-
tion between the total number of false memories and the number of
night awakenings (r = 0.267, p = 0.05), whereas the total number of
veridical memories showed a trend to a significant positive correla-
tion with sleep duration (r = 0.266, p = 0.09). No other significant
correlations emerged.
The results of the mediation analysis revealed a non- significant
indirect effect of sleep quality on false memories production
through source monitoring ability (point estimate = 0.04, 95% CI
−0.085, 0.086).
4 | DISCUSSION
In the present study we investigated false memories production
in individuals with insomnia and in good sleepers, assuming that
poor sleep quality and its cognitive consequences (see for a review
Fortier- Brochu et al., 2012) can render the former more prone to this
phenomenon.
As a main result, we observed that the IN Group globally pro-
duced more false memories compared to the GS Group, thus sup-
porting an association between sleep quality and false memories
production. In light of the literature on cognitive functioning in
insomnia disorder, this result is of particular interest. According to
the Activation- Monitoring theory (Roediger & McDermott, 1995;
Roediger, Watson, McDermott, & Gallo, 2001), during the retrieval
phase participants generally rely on a source monitoring process to
separate items that were studied from those that were not: in this
phase, frontally mediated executive functions are essential to ensure
efficient source monitoring and memory accuracy (Johnson, Raye,
Mitchell, & Ankudowich, 2012). In this regard, it has been observed
that false memories production is increased in healthy subjects after
sleep deprivation (Diekelmann et al., 2008, 2010), a procedure that
strongly affects prefrontal functioning (Durmer & Dinges, 2005).
In subjects with insomnia, previous studies documented diurnal
impairment in the same cognitive functions that may help to reject
false memories and ensure efficient memory recall, i.e. retention and
manipulation of information in working memory, inhibitory control,
and cognitive flexibility (Fortier- Brochu et al., 2012).
In our present study, we did not observe significant between-
groups differences in most executive tasks. However, it would be
hazardous to rule out the presence of executive impairments in
insomnia. It might be that the changes in cognitive performance
reported in the present population are of a subtler and more situa-
tional kind (Fortier- Brochu et al., 2012) and therefore went partially
undetected in the classical neuropsychological tasks adopted here.
Moreover, the suggested relationship between executive function-
ing and performance at the DRM paradigm (see e.g. Leding, 2012;
Peters et al., 2007) seems to be supported by the correlational analy-
sis. In fact, we observed that the number of false recalls is negatively
associated with accuracy at the Stroop task, and, conversely, that
the number of veridical memories correlates both positively with the
WMI and negatively with accuracy at the source monitoring task.
Additionally, an interesting result comes from the RM- SM sub-
test of the source monitoring task, at which the IN Group were less
13652869, 2022, 3, D
ow
nloaded from
https://onlinelibrary.w
iley.com
/doi/10.1111/jsr.13527 by L
iberty U
niversity, W
iley O
nline L
ibrary on [07/02/2023]. See the T
erm
s and C
onditions (https://onlinelibrary.w
iley.com
/term
s-and-conditions) on W
iley O
nline L
ibrary for rules of use; O
A
articles are governed by the applicable C
reative C
om
m
ons L
icense
8 of 12 | MALLOGGI ET AL.
accurate than the GS Group. Importantly, this bias was limited to
the RM- SM subtest, which requires participants to discriminate
between internally and externally generated stimuli, i.e. the same
ability required by the DRM task (while it did not extend to the abil-
ity to discriminate between two internal or two external sources).
Together with our observation of higher false recall in the IN Group,
this finding lends support to the Source Monitoring Framework
(SMF) in the explanation of false memories formation (Mitchell &
Johnson, 2000) and to the hypothesis that the protective role of ex-
ecutive functioning against false memory is weakened in subjects
with insomnia. In fact, according to the SMF, false memories arise
from an error of commission, that is when thoughts or images com-
ing from one source (e.g. an external one) are erroneously attributed
to another one (e.g. an internal one; Mitchell & Johnson, 2000). The
ability to correctly discriminate between two sources of information
is linked to the efficiency of executive functioning and especially
of memory retrieval processes (Johnson et al., 2012): the latter are
strongly modulated by prefrontal functioning and are affected by
acute (Durmer & Dinges, 2005; Frenda & Fenn, 2016; Mitchell &
Johnson, 2000) and chronic sleep loss, as in the case of individuals
with insomnia (Fortier- Brochu et al., 2012). Therefore, in line with
the SMF, we may explain our present results by assuming that the IN
Group produced more numerous false memories than the GS Group
because they are more susceptible to errors of commission as a con-
sequence of their chronic sleep loss.
The data described so far should still be cautiously interpreted
for the methodological limitation represented by the limited sample
size, possibly accounting for the low magnitude of the finding and the
negative results of our mediation analysis. However, taken overall,
they encourage to thoroughly consider and further experimentally
explore the hypothesis that the efficiency of executive functions,
including the crucial source monitoring ability, promotes accurate
retrieval and prevents false memories formation (Diekelmann et al.,
2008; Peters et al., 2007).
Another interesting finding concerns the influence of stimulus
type on DRM performance in the IN Group. In accordance with lit-
erature on the attentional bias for sleep- related stimuli in individuals
with insomnia (Giganti et al., 2017; Harris et al., 2015), we observed
greater false recall at the “sleep” list in the IN Group compared to
the GS Group. Indeed, it is known that individuals with insomnia
preferentially focus their attention on sleep- related items, consid-
ering them more salient and “threatening” than neutral ones (Espie
et al., 2006; Harvey, 2002). This phenomenon has been previously
F I G U R E 1 Comparison between the insomnia group (IN Group)
and good sleep group (GS Group) in the total number of false
memories. *p ≤ 0.05. Error bars represent standard deviations
[Colour figure can be viewed at wileyonlinelibrary.com]
F I G U R E 2 Comparison between the
insomnia group (IN Group) and good
sleep group (GS Group) in the number of
false memories for neutral list and sleep-
related list. *p ≤ 0.05. Error bars represent
standard deviations [Colour figure can be
viewed at wileyonlinelibrary.com]
13652869, 2022, 3, D
ow
nloaded from
https://onlinelibrary.w
iley.com
/doi/10.1111/jsr.13527 by L
iberty U
niversity, W
iley O
nline L
ibrary on [07/02/2023]. See the T
erm
s and C
onditions (https://onlinelibrary.w
iley.com
/term
s-and-conditions) on W
iley O
nline L
ibrary for rules of use; O
A
articles are governed by the applicable C
reative C
om
m
ons L
icense
https://onlinelibrary.wiley.com/
https://onlinelibrary.wiley.com/
| 9 of 12MALLOGGI ET AL.
observed through specific cognitive tests (see e.g. Giganti et al., 2017;
MacMahon et al., 2006), but had not yet been investigated in a task
based on strong semantic associations, such as the DRM paradigm.
Previous studies on the DRM task show that, relative to neutral word
lists, arousing and negatively valenced lists can promote stronger as-
sociative connections between their items, so that the non- presented
lures undergo greater activation and their false recall is facilitated at
subsequent recovery (Howe, Wimmer, Gagnon, & Plumpton, 2009;
Otgaar, Howe, Brackmann, & Smeets, 2016). Therefore, we can ex-
plain our present result by assuming that, for our IN Group, items
of the “sleep” list were more arousing and negatively valenced com-
pared to the neutral list. Although in our study we did not directly
ascertain whether the IN Group actually judged the sleep- related
words as more negative and arousing than neutral ones, it has been
F I G U R E 3 Number of veridical
memories for neutral list and sleep- related
list in the insomnia group (IN Group) and
good sleep group (GS Group). *p ≤ 0.05;
**p ≤ 0.01. Error bars represent standard
deviations [Colour figure can be viewed at
wileyonlinelibrary.com]
TA B L E 5 Comparison between the insomnia group (IN Group) and good sleep group (GS Group) in Stroop task and Wechsler Adult
Intelligence Scale, fourth edition (WAIS- IV) performance
Task Variable IN Group, mean (SD) GS Group, mean (SD) U p
Stroop Stroop – correct responses 230.35 (29.54) 232.20 (25.52) 306.00 0.84
Stroop – errors 9.65 (29.53) 7.80 (25.52) 363.00 0.85
Stroop – response times 872.78 (163.26) 851.07 (177.47) 364.00 0.70
WAIS Digit span subtest 9.71 (3.02) 9.57 (2.38) 322.50 0.87
Arithmetic subtest 5.00 (3.06) 5.29 (3.28) 324.00 0.78
Working Memory Index 84.82 (13.72) 85.38 (13.09) 325.50 0.90
TA B L E 6 Comparison between the insomnia group (IN Group) and good sleep group (GS Group) in the source monitoring task
Subtest Variables IN Group, mean (SD) GS Group, mean (SD) U p
I- SM I – correct 18.64 (3.84) 19.19 (2.73) 166.00 0.61
I – Index 1 56.18 (5.87) 55.87 (8.07) 177.00 0.83
I – Index 2 43.82 (5.87) 44.13 (8.07) 177.00 0.82
E- SM E – correct 18.11 (3.99) 18.38 (2.94) 169.50 0.82
E – Index 1 55.10 (14.23) 56.14 (13.56) 167.00 0.84
E – Index 2 44.91 (14.24) 43.85 (13.56) 167.00 0.88
RM- SM RM – correct 20.52 (2.34) 19.00 (3.11) 125.50 0.43
RM – Index 1 47.33 (6.22) 54.16 (13.52) 107.50 0.03
RM – Index 2 51.28 (6.34) 45.65 (13.46) 114.50 0.21
E- SM, external source monitoring subtask; I- SM, internal source monitoring subtask; RM- SM, reality monitoring subtask.
13652869, 2022, 3, D
ow
nloaded from
https://onlinelibrary.w
iley.com
/doi/10.1111/jsr.13527 by L
iberty U
niversity, W
iley O
nline L
ibrary on [07/02/2023]. See the T
erm
s and C
onditions (https://onlinelibrary.w
iley.com
/term
s-and-conditions) on W
iley O
nline L
ibrary for rules of use; O
A
articles are governed by the applicable C
reative C
om
m
ons L
icense
https://onlinelibrary.wiley.com/
10 of 12 | MALLOGGI ET AL.
previously shown that emotional valence and arousing capacity of
sleep- related stimuli strongly differ between subjects with insomnia
and good sleepers (Baglioni et al., 2010; Zhou et al., 2018).
Here again, given that the regression model did not show a sig-
nificant interaction between group and stimulus type, we should
take into account, beyond the small sample size, two further limits of
our present study: (a) we did not include a specific measure of atten-
tional bias, which would have enabled us to exclude that between-
groups differences are due to factors other than stimulus type; (b)
we could not analyse fine- grained differences in characteristics of
our DRM lists, such as semantic relatedness and forward– backward
associative strength between words, that might have played a role.
Surprisingly, we observed that veridical recall at the “sleep” list
was impaired in the IN Group, both relative to their own perfor-
mance at the neutral list and to the GS Group. This result suggests
that, in the IN Group, the attentional bias for the sleep- related list
has different consequences on false and veridical memories, with an
enhancement of false recall paralleling an impoverished veridical re-
call. Assuming in this group a higher activation driven by the salience
of the sleep- list, a better veridical recall (relative both to the neu-
tral list and to the GS Group) for this list could be expected. In fact,
previous studies showed that, in subjects with insomnia, the atten-
tional bias generally enhances performance on sleep- related stimuli
by locating greater attentional resources on them (see e.g. Giganti
et al., 2017; MacMahon et al., 2006). Moreover, studies adopting
the DRM paradigm on healthy subjects showed that salient stim-
uli generally enhance both false memories and veridical recollection
of stimuli (Baird, 2003; Castel et al., 2007). However, some authors
pointed out that certain stimuli not only promote false memories
production but also, in parallel, reduce veridical retrieval (Brainerd,
Holliday, Reyna, Yang, & Toglia, 2010). To this regard, adopting the
DRM paradigm, Brainerd et al. (2010) observed that stimuli with
negative valence generally increase false memories production but,
at the same time, can also suppress true memory recollection, ex-
plaining this result in light of the Fuzzy- Trace Theory (Brainerd &
Reyna, 2002). According to this theory, subjects simultaneously en-
code two independent traces for each word, respectively the “ver-
batim trace” (i.e. the trace related to the contextual features of a
word and especially linked to veridical memory, corresponding in the
DRM paradigm to the “studied words”) and the “gist” or “fuzzy” trace
(i.e. the trace representing the meaning of an item, preferentially
linked to false memories production). The presentation of arousing
and negatively valenced stimuli generally leads to strong gist traces
but, at the same time, could also interfere with simultaneous pro-
cessing of verbatim traces, causing lower subsequent hit rates for
negative targets (Brainerd et al., 2010). In our present study, the
sleep- related word list might have performed in this way. In other
words, supposing a high activation driven by the sleep- related list
in our IN Group, the triggering of the gist trace “sleep” in this group
could have: on one hand, promoted false recall at the sleep- related
list; on the other hand, interfered with the processing of verbatim
sleep- related traces and consequently impacted the veridical recall
of words semantically associated to the gist trace.
Concerning the neutral word list, we did not observe between-
groups differences either in the number of false or veridical memories.
This result seems to suggest that, in absence of interference such as
that linked to sleep- related stimuli, individuals with insomnia have an
efficient declarative memory system for words that are semantically
related. In fact, as further evidence of this cognitive efficiency, we did
not detect between- groups differences in the number of intrusions
(i.e. words not belonging to the original word lists and also not seman-
tically related to the critical lure words). It could be the case that the
well- documented declarative memory deficits in people with insom-
nia (Fortier- Brochu et al., 2012) specifically emerge in tasks assessing
memory retrieval of semantically unrelated words. In other words, the
semantic association between stimuli, which generally facilitates their
recall (Aka, Phan, & Kahana, 2020; Silberman, Miikkulainen, & Bentin,
2005), would allow sleep- impaired individuals to achieve at the DRM
task the same performance as good sleepers.
Because of the limited statistical power and the small effect size,
our present results need to be carefully interpreted and require fur-
ther replications in larger samples. Indeed, as pointed out by Fortier-
Brochu et al. (2012), small sample size and low statistical power are a
common issue in studies comparing cognitive performance between
people with insomnia and good sleepers and may prevent the de-
tection of small group differences. Nevertheless, our present results
add to the previous literature on the attentional bias in subjects with
insomnia and open to new research question.
In conclusion, our present data show that individuals with in-
somnia symptoms produce more false memories than good sleepers
and point to a relevant role of the attentional bias for sleep- related
stimuli in the DRM task in this clinical sample. Although we cannot
assert that the increase in false memories production in people with
insomnia is due to a widespread impairment of executive function-
ing, our present results highlight in this population a notable bias in
source monitoring ability that could have contributed to their false
memories production.
ACKNOWLEDG EMENTS
This study has been partially supported by the “V:ALERE 2019” pro-
ject of the University of Campania “L. Vanvitelli”. We thank Dr Monica
Annunziata for her precious help in data collection. Open Access
Funding provided by Universita degli Studi di Firenze within the CRUI-
CARE Agreement. [Correction added on 30 May 2022, after first on-
line publication: CRUI funding statement has been added.]
CONFLIC T OF INTERE S T
The authors declare no conflicts of interest, no personal financial
support and involvement with an organisation with financial interest
in the subject matter of the paper.
AUTHOR CONTRIBUTIONS
All authors contributed in a meaningful way to this manuscript.
Conceptualisation of the research, SM, FC, SR, GF, and FG; meth-
odology, SM, FC, GG, GF, and F.G; formal analysis, SM, ODR, GG,
and FG; investigation, SM and ODR; data curation, SM, GG, and FG;
13652869, 2022, 3, D
ow
nloaded from
https://onlinelibrary.w
iley.com
/doi/10.1111/jsr.13527 by L
iberty U
niversity, W
iley O
nline L
ibrary on [07/02/2023]. See the T
erm
s and C
onditions (https://onlinelibrary.w
iley.com
/term
s-and-conditions) on W
iley O
nline L
ibrary for rules of use; O
A
articles are governed by the applicable C
reative C
om
m
ons L
icense
| 11 of 12MALLOGGI ET AL.
writing – original draft preparation, SM and FG; writing – review and
editing, SM, FC, and FG; supervision, FC, GF, and FG; project ad-
ministration, GF and FG. All authors have read and agreed to the
published version of the manuscript.
DATA AVAIL ABILIT Y S TATEMENT
The data that support the findings of this study are available from
the corresponding author upon reasonable request.
ORCID
Serena Malloggi https://orcid.org/0000-0003-1813-8916
Francesca Conte https://orcid.org/0000-0002-5429-5831
Oreste De Rosa https://orcid.org/0000-0001-6964-5024
Stefania Righi https://orcid.org/0000-0001-7852-2448
Giorgio Gronchi https://orcid.org/0000-0003-0543-4900
Gianluca Ficca https://orcid.org/0000-0001-9519-4351
Fiorenza Giganti https://orcid.org/0000-0002-9362-5258
R E FE R E N C E S
Aka, A., Phan, T.D., & Kahana, M.J. (2020). Predicting recall of words
and lists. Journal of Experimental Psychology: Learning, Memory, and
Cognition, 47(5), 765– 784. https://doi.org/10.1037/xlm00 00964
American Psychiatric Association (2013). Diagnostic and statistical man-
ual of mental disorders, 5th ed. American Psychiatric Association.
Baglioni, C., Lombardo, C., Bux, E., Hansen, S., Salveta, C., Biello, S., … Espie,
C.A. (2010). Psychophysiological reactivity to sleep- related emo-
tional stimuli in primary insomnia. Behaviour Research and Therapy,
48(6), 467– 475. https://doi.org/10.1016/j.brat.2010.01.008
Baglioni, C., Regen, W., Teghen, A., Spiegelhalder, K., Feige, B., Nissen, C.,
& Riemann, D. (2014). Sleep changes in the disorder of insomnia: A
meta- analysis of polysomnographic studies. Sleep Medicine Reviews,
18, 195– 213. https://doi.org/10.1016/j.smrv.2013.04.001
Baird, R.R. (2003). Experts sometimes show more false recall than nov-
ices: A cost of knowing too much. Learning and Individual Differences,
13, 349– 355. https://doi.org/10.1016/S1041 – 6080(03)00018 – 9
Brainerd, C.J., Holliday, R.E., Reyna, V.F., Yang, Y., & Toglia, M.P. (2010).
Developmental reversals in false memory: Effects of emotional va-
lence and arousal. Journal of Experimental Child Psychology, 107(2),
137– 154. https://doi.org/10.1016/j.jecp.2010.04.013
Brainerd, C.J., & Reyna, V.F. (2002). Fuzzy- trace theory and false mem-
ory. Current Directions in Psychological Science, 11, 164– 169. https://
doi.org/10.1111/1467- 8721.00192
Castel, A.D., McCabe, D.P., Roediger, H.L. III, & Heitman, J.L.
(2007). The dark side of expertise: Domain- specific mem-
ory errors. Psychological Science, 18(1), 3– 5. https://doi.
org/10.1111/j.1467- 9280.2007.01838.x
Castronovo, V., Galbiati, A., Marelli, S., Brombin, C., Cugnata, F., Giarolli,
L., … Ferini- Strambi, L. (2016). Validation study of the Italian version
of the Insomnia Severity Index (ISI). Neurological Sciences, 37, 1517–
1524. https://doi.org/10.1007/s1007 2- 016- 2620- z
Conte, F., & Ficca, G. (2013). Caveats on psychological models of sleep
and memory: A compass in an overgrown scenario. Sleep Medicine
Review, 17, 105– 121. https://doi.org/10.1016/j.smrv.2012.04.001
Curcio, G., Tempesta, D., Scarlata, S., Marzano, C., Moroni, F., Rossini,
P.M., … De Gennaro, L. (2013). Validity of the Italian version of the
Pittsburgh Sleep Quality Index (PSQI). Neurological Sciences, 34,
511– 519. https://doi.org/10.1007/s1007 2- 012- 1085- y
Denckla, M.B. (1994). Measurement of executive function. In G.R. Lyon
(Ed.), Frames of reference for the assessment of learning disabilities:
New views on measurement issues (pp. 117– 142). Paul H. Brookes
Publishing Co.
Diekelmann, S., Born, J., & Wagner, U. (2010). Sleep enhances false mem-
ories depending on general memory performance. Behavioural Brain
Research, 208(2), 425– 429. https://doi.org/10.1016/j.bbr.2009.12.021
Diekelmann, S., Landolt, H., Lahl, O., Born, J., & Wagner, U. (2008).
Sleep loss produces false memories. PLoS One, 3, 3512. https://doi.
org/10.1371/journ al.pone.0003512
Durmer, J.S., & Dinges, D.F. (2005). Neurocognitive consequences of
sleep deprivation. Seminars in Neurology, 25, 117– 129.
Espie, C.A., Broomfield, N.M., MacMahon, K.M., Macphee, L.M., &
Taylor, L.M. (2006). The attention- intention- effort pathway in the
development of psychophysiologic insomnia: A theoretical review.
Sleep Medicine Reviews, 10, 215– 245. https://doi.org/10.1016/j.
smrv.2006.03.002
Fortier- Brochu, E., Beaulieu- Bonneau, S., Ivers, H., & Morin, C.M. (2012).
Insomnia and daytime cognitive performance: A meta- analysis.
Sleep Medicine Reviews, 16, 83– 94. https://doi.org/10.1016/j.
smrv.2011.03.008
Frenda, S.J., & Fenn, K.M. (2016). Sleep less, think worse: The effect of
sleep deprivation on working memory. Journal of Applied Research
in Memory and Cognition, 5, 463– 469. https://doi.org/10.1016/j.
jarmac.2016.10.001
Giganti, F., Aisa, B., Arzilli, C., Viggiano, M.P., Cerasuolo, M., Conte, F.,
& Ficca, G. (2017). Priming recognition in good sleepers and in
insomniacs. Journal of Sleep Research, 26, 345– 352. https://doi.
org/10.1111/jsr.12511
Haimov, I., Hanuka, E., & Horowitz, Y. (2008). Chronic insomnia and cog-
nitive functioning among older adults. Behavioural Sleep Medicine,
6, 32– 54. https://doi.org/10.1080/15402 00070 1796080
Harris, K., Spiegelhalder, K., Espie, C.A., MacMahon, K.M., Woods, H.C.,
& Kyle, S.D. (2015). Sleep- related attentional bias in insomnia: A
state- of- the- science review. Clinical Psychology Review, 42, 16– 27.
https://doi.org/10.1016/j.cpr.2015.08.001
Harvey, A.G. (2002). A cognitive model of insomnia. Behaviour Research
and Therapy, 40, 869– 893. https://doi.org/10.1016/s0005
– 7967(01)00061 – 4
Hayes, A.F. (2018). Partial, conditional, and moderated mediation:
Quantification, inference, and interpretation. Communication
Monographs, 85, 4– 40.
Howe, M.L., Wimmer, M.C., Gagnon, N., & Plumpton, S. (2009). An
associative- activation theory of children’s and adults’ memory il-
lusions. Journal of Memory and Language, 60, 229– 251. https://doi.
org/10.1016/j.jml.2008.10.002
Iacullo, V.M., & Marucci, F.S. (2016). Normative data for Italian Deese/
Roediger- McDermott lists. Behavior Research Methods, 48, 381–
389. https://doi.org/10.3758/s1342 8- 015- 0582- 3
Johnson, M.K., Hashtroudi, S., & Lindsay, D.S. (1993). Source monitor-
ing. Psychological Bulletin, 114, 3– 28. https://doi.org/10.1037/003
3- 2909.114.1.3
Johnson, M.K., Raye, C.L., Mitchell, K.J., & Ankudowich, E. (2012).
The cognitive neuroscience of true and false memories. Nebraska
Symposium on Motivation. Nebraska Symposium on Motivation, 58,
15– 52. https://doi.org/10.1007/978- 1- 4614- 1195- 6_2
Joo, E.Y., Noh, H.J., Kim, J.S., Koo, D.L., Kim, D., Hwang, K.J., … Hong,
S.B. (2013). Brain gray matter deficits in patients with chronic pri-
mary insomnia. Sleep, 36(7), 999– 1007. https://doi.org/10.5665/
sleep.2796
Landmann, N., Kuhn, M., Piosczyk, H., Feige, B., Baglioni, C., Spiegelhalder,
K., … Nissen, C. (2014). The reorganisation of memory during sleep.
Sleep Medicine Reviews, 18(6), 531– 541. https://doi.org/10.1016/j.
smrv.2014.03.005
Leding, J.K. (2012). Working memory predicts the rejection of false
memories. Memory (Hove, England), 20, 217– 223. https://doi.
org/10.1080/09658 211.2011.653373
Lo, J.C., Chong, P.L., Ganesan, S., Leong, R.L., & Chee, M.W. (2016). Sleep
deprivation increases formation of false memory. Journal of Sleep
Research, 25, 673– 682. https://doi.org/10.1111/jsr.12436
13652869, 2022, 3, D
ow
nloaded from
https://onlinelibrary.w
iley.com
/doi/10.1111/jsr.13527 by L
iberty U
niversity, W
iley O
nline L
ibrary on [07/02/2023]. See the T
erm
s and C
onditions (https://onlinelibrary.w
iley.com
/term
s-and-conditions) on W
iley O
nline L
ibrary for rules of use; O
A
articles are governed by the applicable C
reative C
om
m
ons L
icense
https://orcid.org/0000-0003-1813-8916
https://orcid.org/0000-0003-1813-8916
https://orcid.org/0000-0002-5429-5831
https://orcid.org/0000-0002-5429-5831
https://orcid.org/0000-0001-6964-5024
https://orcid.org/0000-0001-6964-5024
https://orcid.org/0000-0001-7852-2448
https://orcid.org/0000-0001-7852-2448
https://orcid.org/0000-0003-0543-4900
https://orcid.org/0000-0003-0543-4900
https://orcid.org/0000-0001-9519-4351
https://orcid.org/0000-0001-9519-4351
https://orcid.org/0000-0002-9362-5258
https://orcid.org/0000-0002-9362-5258
https://doi.org/10.1037/xlm0000964
https://doi.org/10.1016/j.brat.2010.01.008
https://doi.org/10.1016/j.smrv.2013.04.001
https://doi.org/10.1016/S1041-6080(03)00018-9
https://doi.org/10.1016/j.jecp.2010.04.013
https://doi.org/10.1111/1467-8721.00192
https://doi.org/10.1111/1467-8721.00192
https://doi.org/10.1111/j.1467-9280.2007.01838.x
https://doi.org/10.1111/j.1467-9280.2007.01838.x
https://doi.org/10.1007/s10072-016-2620-z
https://doi.org/10.1016/j.smrv.2012.04.001
https://doi.org/10.1007/s10072-012-1085-y
https://doi.org/10.1016/j.bbr.2009.12.021
https://doi.org/10.1371/journal.pone.0003512
https://doi.org/10.1371/journal.pone.0003512
https://doi.org/10.1016/j.smrv.2006.03.002
https://doi.org/10.1016/j.smrv.2006.03.002
https://doi.org/10.1016/j.smrv.2011.03.008
https://doi.org/10.1016/j.smrv.2011.03.008
https://doi.org/10.1016/j.jarmac.2016.10.001
https://doi.org/10.1016/j.jarmac.2016.10.001
https://doi.org/10.1111/jsr.12511
https://doi.org/10.1111/jsr.12511
https://doi.org/10.1080/15402000701796080
https://doi.org/10.1016/j.cpr.2015.08.001
https://doi.org/10.1016/s0005-7967(01)00061-4
https://doi.org/10.1016/s0005-7967(01)00061-4
https://doi.org/10.1016/j.jml.2008.10.002
https://doi.org/10.1016/j.jml.2008.10.002
https://doi.org/10.3758/s13428-015-0582-3
https://doi.org/10.1037/0033-2909.114.1.3
https://doi.org/10.1037/0033-2909.114.1.3
https://doi.org/10.1007/978-1-4614-1195-6_2
https://doi.org/10.5665/sleep.2796
https://doi.org/10.5665/sleep.2796
https://doi.org/10.1016/j.smrv.2014.03.005
https://doi.org/10.1016/j.smrv.2014.03.005
https://doi.org/10.1080/09658211.2011.653373
https://doi.org/10.1080/09658211.2011.653373
https://doi.org/10.1111/jsr.12436
12 of 12 | MALLOGGI ET AL.
MacMahon, M.A., Broomfield, N., & Espie, C. (2006). Attention bias for
sleep- related stimuli in primary insomnia and delayed sleep phase
syndrome using dot- probe task. Sleep, 29, 1420– 1427.
Mitchell, K.J., & Johnson, M.K. (2000). Source monitoring: Attributing
mental experiences. In E. Tulving, & F.I.M. Craik (Eds.), The Oxford
handbook of memory (pp. 179– 195). Oxford University Press.
Miyake, A., Friedman, N.P., Emerson, M.J., Witzki, A.H., Howerter, A.,
& Wager, T.D. (2000). The unity and diversity of executive func-
tions and their contributions to complex “frontal lobe” tasks: A la-
tent variable analysis. Cognitive Psychology, 41, 49– 100. https://doi.
org/10.1006/cogp.1999.0734
Morin, C.M. (1993). Insomnia, psychological assessment and management.
Guilford Press.
Natale, V., Esposito, M., Martoni, M., & Fabbri, M. (2006). Validity
of the reduced version of the Morningness- Eveningness
Questionnaire. Sleep Biological Rhythms, 4, 72– 74. https://doi.
org/10.1111/j.1479- 8425.2006.00192.x
Newbury, C.R., & Monaghan, P. (2019). When does sleep affect veridi-
cal and false memory consolidation? A meta- analysis. Psychonomic
Bulletin & Review, 26(2), 387– 400. https://doi.org/10.3758/s1342
3- 018- 1528- 4
Nienow, M.S., & Docherty, N.M. (2004). Internal source monitoring
and thought disorder in schizophrenia. The Journal of Nervous
and Mental Disease, 192, 696– 700. https://doi.org/10.1097/01.
nmd.00001 42018.73263.15
Otgaar, H., Howe, M.L., Brackmann, N., & Smeets, T. (2016). The mal-
leability of developmental trends in neutral and negative memory
illusions. Journal of Experimental Psychology: General, 145, 31– 55.
https://doi.org/10.1037/xge00 0012
Peters, M.J.V., Jelicic, M., Verbeek, H., & Merckelbach, H.L.G.J. (2007).
Poor working memory predicts false memories. European Journal of
Cognitive Psychology, 19, 213– 232. https://doi.org/10.1080/09541
44060 0760396
Preacher, K., & Hayes, A. (2008). Asymptotic and resampling strategies
for assessing and comparing indirect effects in multiple media-
tor models. Behavior Research Methods, 40, 879– 891. https://doi.
org/10.3758/BRM.40.3.879
Roediger, H.L., & McDermott, K.B. (1995). Creating false memories:
Remembering words not presented in lists. Journal of Experimental
Psychology, 21, 803– 814.
Roediger, H.L. 3rd, Watson, J.M., McDermott, K.B., & Gallo, D.A.
(2001). Factors that determine false recall: A multiple regression
analysis. Psychonomic Bulletin & Review, 8, 385– 407. https://doi.
org/10.3758/bf031 96177
Shekleton, J.A., Rogers, N.L., & Rajaratnama, S.M.W. (2010).
Searching for the daytime impairments of primary insomnia.
Sleep Medicine Reviews, 14, 47– 60. https://doi.org/10.1016/j.
smrv.2009.06.001
Sica, C., & Ghisi, M. (2007). The Italian versions of the Beck Anxiety
Inventory and the Beck Depression Inventory- II: Psychometric
properties and discriminant power. In M.A. Lange (Ed.), Leading- edge
psychological tests and testing research (pp. 27– 50). Nova Science
Publishers.
Silberman, Y., Miikkulainen, R., & Bentin, S. (2005). Associating un-
seen events: Semantically mediated formation of episodic as-
sociations. Psychological Science, 16, 161– 166. https://doi.
org/10.1111/j.0956- 7976.2005.00797.x
Spiegelhalder, K., Espie, C., Nissen, C., & Riemann, D. (2008). Sleep-
related attentional bias in patients with primary insomnia compared
with sleep experts and healthy controls. Journal of Sleep Research,
17, 191– 196. https://doi.org/10.1111/j.1365- 2869.2008.00641.x
Stroop, J. (1935). Studies of interference in serial verbal learning reac-
tions. Journal of Experimental Psychology, 18, 643– 662.
Trumble, I., Ferrer, O., Bay, C., & Mollan, K. (2020). Precise and Accurate
Power of the Wilcoxon- Mann- Whitney Rank- Sum Test for a
Continuous Variable. R Package Version 3.0.2.
Vignatelli, L., Plazzi, G., Barbato, A., Ferini- Strambi, L., Manni, R., Pompei,
F., … GINSEN (Gruppo Italiano Narcolessia Studio Epidemiologico
Nazionale) (2003). Italian version of the Epworth sleepiness scale:
External validity. Neurological Sciences, 23(6), 295– 300. https://doi.
org/10.1007/s1007 20300004
Violani, C., Devoto, A., Lucidi, F., Lombardo, C., & Russo, P.M. (2004). Validity
of a short insomnia questionnaire: The SDQ. Brain Research Bulletin,
63(5), 415– 421. https://doi.org/10.1016/j.brain resbu ll.2003.06.002
Wechsler, D. (2008). Wechsler Adult Intelligence Scale- Fourth Edition
(WAIS- IV). NCS Pearson.
Williams, J.M., Mathews, A., & MacLeod, C. (1996). The emotional Stroop
task and psychopathology. Psychological Bulletin, 120, 3– 24. https://
doi.org/10.1037/0033- 2909.120.1.3
Woods, H.C., Scheepers, C., Ross, K.A., Espie, C.A., & Biello, S.M. (2013).
What are you looking at? Moving toward an attentional timeline
in insomnia: A novel semantic eye tracking study. Sleep, 36, 1491–
1499. https://doi.org/10.5665/sleep.3042
Zhou, N., Zhao, C., Yang, T., Du, S., Yu, M., & Shen, H. (2018). Attentional
bias towards sleep- related stimuli in insomnia disorder: A be-
havioural and ERP study. Journal of Sleep Research, 27, e12652.
https://doi.org/10.1111/jsr.12652
SUPPORTING INFORMATION
Additional supporting information may be found in the online ver-
sion of the article at the publisher’s website.
How to cite this article: Malloggi, S., Conte, F., De Rosa, O.,
Righi, S., Gronchi, G., Ficca, G., & Giganti, F. (2022). False
memories formation is increased in individuals with insomnia.
Journal of Sleep Research, 31, e13527. https://doi.org/10.1111/
jsr.13527
13652869, 2022, 3, D
ow
nloaded from
https://onlinelibrary.w
iley.com
/doi/10.1111/jsr.13527 by L
iberty U
niversity, W
iley O
nline L
ibrary on [07/02/2023]. See the T
erm
s and C
onditions (https://onlinelibrary.w
iley.com
/term
s-and-conditions) on W
iley O
nline L
ibrary for rules of use; O
A
articles are governed by the applicable C
reative C
om
m
ons L
icense
https://doi.org/10.1006/cogp.1999.0734
https://doi.org/10.1006/cogp.1999.0734
https://doi.org/10.1111/j.1479-8425.2006.00192.x
https://doi.org/10.1111/j.1479-8425.2006.00192.x
https://doi.org/10.3758/s13423-018-1528-4
https://doi.org/10.3758/s13423-018-1528-4
https://doi.org/10.1097/01.nmd.0000142018.73263.15
https://doi.org/10.1097/01.nmd.0000142018.73263.15
https://doi.org/10.1037/xge000012
https://doi.org/10.1080/09541440600760396
https://doi.org/10.1080/09541440600760396
https://doi.org/10.3758/BRM.40.3.879
https://doi.org/10.3758/BRM.40.3.879
https://doi.org/10.3758/bf03196177
https://doi.org/10.3758/bf03196177
https://doi.org/10.1016/j.smrv.2009.06.001
https://doi.org/10.1016/j.smrv.2009.06.001
https://doi.org/10.1111/j.0956-7976.2005.00797.x
https://doi.org/10.1111/j.0956-7976.2005.00797.x
https://doi.org/10.1111/j.1365-2869.2008.00641.x
https://doi.org/10.1007/s100720300004
https://doi.org/10.1007/s100720300004
https://doi.org/10.1016/j.brainresbull.2003.06.002
https://doi.org/10.1037/0033-2909.120.1.3
https://doi.org/10.1037/0033-2909.120.1.3
https://doi.org/10.5665/sleep.3042
https://doi.org/10.1111/jsr.12652
https://doi.org/10.1111/jsr.13527
https://doi.org/10.1111/jsr.13527
Summary
1|INTRODUCTION
2|METHODS
2.1|Participants and procedure
2.2|Screening instruments
2.3|False memories task
2.4|Executive functioning tasks
2.5|Data analysis
3|RESULTS
3.1|False memories task
3.2|Executive functioning tasks
4|DISCUSSION
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
CONFLICT OF INTEREST
AUTHOR CONTRIBUTIONS
DATA AVAILABILITY STATEMENT
REFERENCES
Cognitive reserve modulates ERPs associated with verbal
working memory in healthy younger and older adults
Megan E. Speer1 and Anja Soldan2
Megan E. Speer: mspeer@psychology.rutgers.edu; Anja Soldan: asoldan1@jhmi.edu
1Department of Psychology, Rutgers University, Newark, NJ 07102
2Department of Neurology, Johns Hopkins University School of Medicine, Baltimore, MD, 21205
Abstract
Although many epidemiological studies suggest the beneficial effects of higher cognitive reserve
(CR) in reducing age-related cognitive decline and dementia risk, the neural basis of CR is poorly
understood. To our knowledge, the current study represents the first electrophysiological
investigation of the relationship between CR and neural reserve (i.e., neural efficiency and
capacity). Specifically, we examined whether CR modulates event-related potentials (ERPs)
associated with performance on a verbal recognition memory task with three set sizes (1, 4, or 7
letters) in healthy younger and older adults. Neural data showed that as task difficulty increased,
the amplitude of the parietal P3b component during the probe phase decreased and its latency
increased. Notably, the degree of these neural changes was negatively correlated with CR in both
age groups, such that individuals with higher CR showed smaller changes in P3b amplitude and
less slowing in P3b latency (i.e., smaller changes in the speed of neural processing) with
increasing task difficulty, suggesting greater neural efficiency. These CR-related differences in
neural efficiency may underlie reserve against neuropathology and age-related burden.
Keywords
Cognitive reserve; Verbal working memory; Neural efficiency; Event-related potentials (ERPs);
P3; Cognitive aging
© 2015 Elsevier Inc. All rights reserved.
Corresponding Author: Dr. Anja Soldan, Ph.D., Division of Cognitive Neuroscience, 1620 McElderry Street, Reed Hall, Baltimore,
MD 21205, Telephone: 410-502-2188, FAX: 410-502-2189, asoldan1@jhmi.edu.
Megan E. Speer, Department of Psychology, Rutgers University, Newark; Anja Soldan, Cognitive Neuroscience Division, Department
of Neurology, Johns Hopkins University School of Medicine.
Publisher’s Disclaimer: This is a PDF file of an unedited manuscript that has been accepted for publication. As a service to our
customers we are providing this early version of the manuscript. The manuscript will undergo copyediting, typesetting, and review of
the resulting proof before it is published in its final citable form. Please note that during the production process errors may be
discovered which could affect the content, and all legal disclaimers that apply to the journal pertain.
Disclosure Statement
There are no actual or potential conflicts of interest.
HHS Public Access
Author manuscript
Neurobiol Aging. Author manuscript; available in PMC 2016 March 01.
Published in final edited form as:
Neurobiol Aging. 2015 March ; 36(3): 1424–1434. doi:10.1016/j.neurobiolaging.2014.12.025.
A
uthor M
anuscript
A
uthor M
anuscript
A
uthor M
anuscript
A
uthor M
anuscript
1. Introduction
The concept of cognitive reserve (CR) has been proposed as an explanation for why
individuals with similar levels of brain pathology or injury can differ markedly in the
clinical manifestation of that pathology, with some individuals being symptom free and
others showing cognitive and/or functional impairment. CR is a theoretical construct that
postulates that certain lifetime experiences, including education, occupational breadth and
complexity, and engagement in activities that are cognitively, socially, and physically
stimulating increase the efficiency, capacity, and flexibility of brain networks. As a result,
individuals with higher levels of CR are thought to be able to sustain greater levels of brain
pathology or damage before showing clinically significant levels of impairment (for a
review see Stern, 2009).
In support of the concept of CR, many studies have shown that higher levels of educational
and occupational attainment, as well as greater pre-morbid intelligence are associated with
better clinical outcomes across a variety of conditions, such as a reduced risk of mild
cognitive impairment or dementia (Pettigrew et al., 2013; Soldan et al., 2013; Wilson et al.,
2002), better recovery from traumatic brain injury (Fay et al., 2010; Levi et al., 2013), and
less cognitive impairment in multiple sclerosis (Sumowski et al., 2013) or Parkinson’s
disease (Perneczky et al., 2008).
Despite the strong evidence for the beneficial effects of CR, the neural mechanisms by
which it operates are poorly understood. It has been proposed that there are two different
ways in which CR is implemented in the brain: neural reserve and neural compensation
(Stern, 2009). Neural compensation refers to the reliance on alternative brain networks that
are not normally used by healthy individuals to maintain or improve cognitive performance
in the face of age or pathology-induced changes. Neural reserve, by comparison, refers to
individual differences in the efficiency and capacity of brain networks underlying task
performance in unimpaired individuals that provide reserve against the impact of brain
injury. Such individual differences in neural efficiency and capacity are thought to be
present before the onset of pathology or injury and therefore exist in both young and older
individuals.
In support of the concept of neural compensation, functional neuroimaging studies have
reported CR-related activation of brain regions among cognitively normal older adults that
are not typically activated by young subjects (Scarmeas et al., 2003; Springer et al., 2005;
Steffener et al., 2011; Stern et al., 2008). Likewise, high performing older individuals (who
presumably have higher CR) often recruit additional brain regions (usually in the
contralateral hemisphere) when engaging in strategies associated with better task
performance (reviewed in Reuter-Lorenz and Park, 2010). There is also some evidence for
greater neural efficiency among cognitively normal young and older adults, such that
subjects with high CR show less task-related activation as a function of increasing task load
than subjects with lower CR (Habeck et al., 2003; Habeck et al., 2005; Steffener et al., 2011;
for similar evidence also see Bosch et al., 2010).
Speer and Soldan Page 2
Neurobiol Aging. Author manuscript; available in PMC 2016 March 01.
A
uthor M
anuscript
A
uthor M
anuscript
A
uthor M
anuscript
A
uthor M
anuscript
To our knowledge, prior investigations that have directly examined the neural basis of CR
have been conducted using H2
15O positron emission tomography (PET) or functional
magnetic resonance imaging (fMRI). Although these methods are very useful for identifying
mechanisms of neural compensation (due to their high spatial resolution), they are less
useful for addressing another potentially important aspect of CR, neural processing speed,
owing to their poor temporal resolution. That is, to the extent that CR is associated with
neural efficiency (e.g., higher CR, greater neural efficiency), one would predict not only a
relationship between CR and the magnitude of neural activation, but also between CR and
the speed of neural processing (e.g., higher CR, greater neural speed). Therefore, the
primary aim of the current study was to investigate the association between CR and neural
reserve (as indexed by neural efficiency and capacity) in young and older adults using event-
related potentials (ERPs), which have excellent temporal resolution. We did not examine
neural compensation because of the poor spatial resolution of ERPs. ERPs, which measure
synchronized post-synaptic potentials of pyramidal cortical neurons, have the additional
advantage that unlike the fMRI BOLD response and H2
15O PET, they are not influenced by
potentially confounding neurovascular-coupling mechanisms that change with aging (Ances
et al., 2008; Ances et al., 2009; Fabiani et al., 2014; Fleisher et al., 2009; Hutchison et al.,
2012).
Our investigation focused on the central-parietal P3b (or P300b) ERP component because
both its amplitude and latency are modulated by the cognitive demands of a task (e.g., Kok,
2001; Polich, 2007). In particular, P3b amplitude is often thought of reflecting cognitive
resource allocation (Donchin and Coles, 1988; Kok, 2001; Linden, 2005; Polich, 2007),
whereas P3b latency appears to be related to information processing speed (i.e., stimulus
evaluation time), independent of motor response preparation and execution processes
(McCarthy and Donchin, 1981; Walhovd and Fjell, 2003). Moreover, a number of studies
have reported associations between intelligence and P3b amplitude and/or latency (Gevins
and Smith, 2000; Houlihan et al., 1998; Jausovec and Jausovec, 2000; Liu et al., 2011;
Pelosi et al., 1992; e.g., Wronka et al., 2013) as well as between intelligence and neural
efficiency as measured by EEG alpha-band desynchronization (ERD, reviewed in Neubauer
and Fink, 2009), which is functionally related to the P3b (Peng et al., 2012), suggesting that
the P3b would also be related to
CR.
The current study used a Sternberg verbal working memory paradigm to measure individual
differences in neural reserve (i.e., neural efficiency and capacity). Task load was
manipulated parametrically by varying the number of items participants had to encode and
retain in memory (e.g., 1, 4, or 7 letters). Varying task difficulty is advantageous for
studying the neural basis of CR because CR is hypothesized to modify how the brain copes
with increasing task demands, as could be the case following brain insult: tasks that are easy
when an individual is healthy may be difficult following brain damage or pathology (Stern,
2009). Previous work using the Sternberg paradigm with letters has shown that P3b
amplitude and latency during the encoding phase increase with the number of letters to be
encoded, reflecting extra stimulus processing at higher set sizes (Houlihan et al., 1998).
Moreover, longer P3b latencies during encoding, particularly at higher set sizes, have been
associated with higher intelligence scores and better task performance (Houlihan et al.,
1998). This suggests that greater load-related increases in P3b latency and amplitude at
Speer and Soldan Page 3
Neurobiol Aging. Author manuscript; available in PMC 2016 March 01.
A
uthor M
anuscript
A
uthor M
anuscript
A
uthor M
anuscript
A
uthor M
anuscript
encoding may be beneficial to task performance and be associated with CR. By comparison,
during the probe phase P3b amplitude decreases with increasing memory load, whereas
latency increases, reflecting more resource-demanding memory search processes for the
higher set sizes (Houlihan et al., 1998; Morgan et al., 2008; Pinal et al., 2014).
Similar to the definitions provided by Stern (2009), we defined greater neural efficiency as
smaller changes in P3b amplitude or latency with increasing memory load given the same or
better behavioral performance. Greater neural capacity was defined as a larger change in
P3b amplitude or latency with increasing memory load, coupled with better performance.
The following hypotheses were tested. First, higher CR is associated with better task
performance, particularly at the higher set sizes. Second, P3b amplitude and latency during
the encoding phase increase with set size and the amount of this load-related increase is
positively correlated with CR. If the first and second hypotheses were confirmed, this would
provide evidence for greater neural capacity among individuals with higher CR. Third, P3b
amplitude during the probe phase decreases with memory load, whereas P3b latency during
the probe phase increases with memory load and the amount of these load-related changes is
negatively correlated with CR (i.e., smaller change with higher CR, in line with the results
of an fMRI study using the same task, Habeck et al., 2005). If the first and the third
hypotheses were both confirmed, this would provide evidence for greater neural efficiency
among high CR individuals. In addition, we calculated neural inefficiency indexes to more
directly relate load-related changes in P3b amplitude to behavioral performance measures
and tested whether these indexes correlate with CR. Lastly, we tested the hypothesis that the
relationships between CR, behavior, and load-related changes in P3b amplitude and latency
are the same across age groups, which would support the view that neural reserve operates
similarly in young and
older adults.
2. Methods
2.1 Participants
Twenty-five healthy young adults and 21 non-demented healthy older adults participated in
this study. Two older participants performed at chance-level in the high load condition and
were excluded from analyses because their poor performance may have reflected
disengagement from the task, which cannot be interpreted meaningfully with respect to CR.
Thus, analysis was performed on 25 young adults and 19 older adults. See Table 1 for
participant characteristics. All were right-handed with normal or corrected-to-normal vision
(visual acuity cut-off of 20/50 as assessed by a Snellen chart), and none reported any history
of neurological or psychiatric diseases that would affect the central nervous system. The
older participants were recruited from the community surrounding North Dartmouth, MA,
and received monetary compensation at a rate of $15/ per hour. All older adults were
screened for dementia via the dementia rating scale (DRS; all scored at or above 137;
Mattis, 1988). Young adults were students at the University of Massachusetts, Dartmouth,
and received partial course credit for their participation. Written informed consent was
obtained prior to participation.
Speer and Soldan Page 4
Neurobiol Aging. Author manuscript; available in PMC 2016 March 01.
A
uthor M
anuscript
A
uthor M
anuscript
A
uthor M
anuscript
A
uthor M
anuscript
2.2 Cognitive Reserve Composite Score
We created a CR composite score based on measures thought to reflect CR: the National
Adult Reading Task (NART; Nelson, 1982), the vocabulary subtest of the Wechsler Adult
Intelligence Scale-Revised (WAIS-R; Wechsler, 1981), and years of education. Measures of
intelligence, particularly verbal intelligence, are commonly included when attempting to
model CR (Alexander et al., 1997). Supporting this approach, a prospective study by
Richards and Sacker (2003) found that intelligence at age 53 was uniquely influenced by
adult occupation, educational attainment, and childhood cognition. Accordingly, basing a
measure of CR on variables such as verbal intelligence means that CR is not inflexible, but
rather can change over the course of one’s lifetime. Educational attainment, on the other
hand, is the most commonly used proxy for CR, and is often combined with other predictors
into a composite variable as in the present study. Because education is a strong determinant
of future employment and income level (Beckles et al., 2011), educational attainment
directly correlates with other CR proxies such as socioeconomic status and occupational
attainment.
All three proxy measures of CR were correlated with one another for the older adults (all p <
0.05). For the young adults, who had not yet completed their education, the CR measure was
based on the NART and WAIS-R vocabulary scores only, which were also correlated (p <
0.05). To calculate the composite CR score, these individual measures were transformed to
z-scores and then averaged. Use of CR composites such as these has been shown to have
construct validity (Siedlecki et al., 2009).
2.3 Stimuli and Procedures
All participants performed a delayed item recognition task measuring verbal working
memory (Sternberg, 1966) on a computer in a sound attenuated booth. Each trial began with
the presentation of a variable inter-stimulus interval lasting 2.25 s to 2.75 s. A memory set of
one, four, or seven uppercase letters was presented for 2.5 s. Regardless of set size, the
stimulus geometry was a two-row array with one row containing three stimuli and the other
four stimuli. For set size one and four, each absent letter in the array was replaced with an
asterisk to keep the geometric array consistent for each set size. This way, differences in
neural responses to different set sizes at encoding cannot be attributed to differences in the
amount of visual information presented, but must reflect the active processing of this
information. The memory set was followed by a 5 s delay that served as a retention period in
which only a blank screen was shown. Then, a probe stimulus was presented for 2 s that
consisted of a single lowercase letter. Participants were instructed to press a key indicating
whether or not the probe was part of the memory set. Memorizing uppercase letters and then
responding to a lowercase letter forced participants to base their decision on the
phonological or pre-lexical representation of the letters rather than simply on the shape of
the letters. The total length of one trial was 12 s (see Figure 1).
A total of 240 trials were divided into eight blocks, each containing 10 trials of each set size
(1, 4, 7) for a total of 80 trials at each set size. Within each block, there were 5 targets (i.e.,
the probe letter was in the memory set) and 5 non-targets (i.e., the probe was not in the
memory set) at each set size. Each block contained a different list of stimuli. The order of
Speer and Soldan Page 5
Neurobiol Aging. Author manuscript; available in PMC 2016 March 01.
A
uthor M
anuscript
A
uthor M
anuscript
A
uthor M
anuscript
A
uthor M
anuscript
block presentation was counterbalanced across participants and each block’s contents were
randomized. Participants were given a 1-minute break between each block in order to help
prevent fatigue. The first two blocks served as training and were excluded from analysis to
minimize the effects of task-related skill learning on performance and neural responses. The
last six blocks (i.e. 60 trials of each set size) were included in data analysis. Participants
were instructed to answer as quickly and accurately as possible. They were not given
feedback about their performance.
2.4 Behavioral Data Analysis
The behavioral accuracy data was analyzed in terms of the signal-detection theory measure
of sensitivity, dL, a measure of accuracy without response bias, (Snodgrass and Corwin,
1988). The measure of dL can be thought of as standardized hits minus standardized false
alarms. It is based on logistic distributions and is functionally equivalent to d’ (d-prime),
which is based on normal distributions. Both dL and mean reaction time (RT) were assessed
for effects of set size, age group, and group by set size interaction via repeated measures
analysis of variance (ANOVA). Incorrect trials were excluded from the RT analysis. For
each subject, linear regression analysis was used to calculate the slope of RT across set size,
the RT intercept (i.e., imputed value at set size = 0), the slope of dL across set sizes, and the
dL intercept. The slope of performance variables measures how well one adapts to the
changes in task difficulty, whereas the intercept of performance variables measures the
baseline performance level when there is no memory load (i.e., at set size = 0). These
measures were used to calculate the neural inefficiency scores (see below).
2.5 EEG Recording and Analysis
Brain electrical activity was recorded from 32 scalp sites (ActiveTwo electrodes, Biosemi)
using an elastic cap with mounted active electrodes positioned according to the International
10/20 System. The electrode offset was kept below 40 mV. Electrodes were initially
referenced to the common mode sense (CMS) electrode and then converted to an average
reference offline. EEG was amplified and continuously sampled at 512 Hz with a bandpass
filter of 0.05–100 Hz. The electrooculogram (EOG) was recorded by means of electrodes
placed approximately 1 cm below each eye as well as lateral to the outer canthi of each eye.
Eye movements were modeled and compensated for using 2–4 ocular source components
(BESA; MEGIS Software GmbH, Grafelfing, Germany). Incorrect trials, as well as trials
with muscle or skin artifacts were excluded from analysis. For each participant, baseline-
corrected, artifact-free trials, time locked to the onset of a stimulus (memory set or probe),
were averaged separately for each set size (1, 4, or 7) from 100 ms before stimulus onset
until 1,000 ms thereafter. A low-pass filter of 40 Hz was applied after averaging.
For the encoding phase, the mean number of trials for set size 1 was 43.0 (SD = 7.5, Min =
25, Max = 57), for set size 4 it was 43.7 trials (SD = 8.0, Min = 25, Max = 59), and for set
size 7 it was 37.1 trials (SD = 7.1, Min = 22, Max = 57). For the probe phase, the mean
number of trials for set size 1 was 48.0 (SD = 7.4, Min = 31, Max = 59), for set size 4 it was
47.3 trials (SD = 7.0, Min = 29, Max = 59), and for set size 7 it was 40.9 trials (SD = 7.0,
Min = 24, Max = 57). Overall, the number of trials was lower for the older than the young
Speer and Soldan Page 6
Neurobiol Aging. Author manuscript; available in PMC 2016 March 01.
A
uthor M
anuscript
A
uthor M
anuscript
A
uthor M
anuscript
A
uthor M
anuscript
adults [F(1, 42) = 4.58, p = .04], due to the lower number of correct trials among the older
adults (see Results).
Mean amplitude of the P3b ERP component was calculated in 100 ms bins for the interval
300 – 800 ms post stimulus onset. P3b peak latency was measured using the half area
latency, which corresponds to the time point that divides the area under the P3b waveform
(from 300 to 800 ms) into two equal regions. The half-area latency works well on large
components, like the P3b, and is less sensitive to noise than peak latency (Luck, 2005).
The overall analysis approach was to first confirm that the P3b component was indeed
modulated by task demands in both age groups, as we hypothesized. To do so, we tested for
the presence of an effect of set size on P3b amplitudes in each 100 ms time window that
encompassed the duration of the P3b (i.e., 300 – 800 ms) during the encoding phase
(memory set presentation) and the probe phase in each age group. Next, only for those time
bins that showed a significant set size effect in one or both age groups, we averaged across
electrodes (where appropriate) and time bins to calculate the mean P3b amplitude for each
set size. We then calculated the difference between mean P3b amplitude at set size 1 and 7
and used this as an index of neural processing that is sensitive to task demands. Likewise,
for P3b latency, we first tested for an effect of set size and, if present, proceeded to calculate
the difference in latency between set size 1 and 7 as an index of neural processing that is
sensitive to task demands. The next step was to examine whether the amount of demand-
related amplitude or latency modulation (i.e., difference between set size 1 and 7) correlated
with CR composite score.
We also calculated neural inefficiency scores that directly relate the degree of demand-
related P3b amplitude modulation to behavioral performance measures and tested if these
scores were associated with composite CR. Neural inefficiency was defined as the amount
of change in task-related neural processing as a function of behavioral performance. Neural
inefficiency scores (the reciprocal of efficiency) were computed for each subject by dividing
the change in task-related neural processing (i.e., slope of P3b mean amplitude with respect
to set size) by behavioral performance values (where a higher value means better
performance): dL intercept, dL slope, RT intercept−1, and RT slope−1. Neural inefficiency
was used because it may be a more stable measure than efficiency (Zarahn et al., 2007). By
this measure, less efficient individuals show greater changes in neural activation with
increasing task demands to achieve the same or lower performance than more efficient
individuals.
An alpha level of .05 was adopted for all statistical analyses. Greenhouse–Geisser
corrections were applied where appropriate to correct for violations of the sphericity
assumption. Significant main effects and interactions were followed by post hoc contrasts
and Bonferroni-Holm corrected pairwise comparisons.
Speer and Soldan Page 7
Neurobiol Aging. Author manuscript; available in PMC 2016 March 01.
A
uthor M
anuscript
A
uthor M
anuscript
A
uthor M
anuscript
A
uthor M
anuscript
3. Results
3.1 Behavioral results
Sensitivity (dL) was marginally lower for the older than the younger adults [F(1, 42) = 3.08,
p = .086]. There was also a main effect of set size [F(2, 84) = 127.62, p < .001], and an age
by set size interaction [F(2, 84) = 7.24, p = .001]. As set size increased, dL decreased for
both the younger [F(2, 48) = 50.33, p < .001] and older adults [F(2, 36) = 84.42, p < .001],
but the amount of decrease in dL was greater for the older than the younger adults, see
Figure 2a. Pairwise comparisons showed a significant difference in dL between set sizes 1
and 7 and between 4 and 7 and in both age groups (all p < .0001), while the difference
between set sizes 1 and 4 was only significant in the young adults (p < .005). The slope in dL
was marginally greater in the older relative to the young adults (t(42) = 1.82, p = .076), but
there was no difference in dL intercept (t < 1).
For RT, there was a main effect of age group [F(1,42) = 44.33, p < .0001], indicating slower
RTs in the old than young adults, a main effect of set size [F(2, 84) = 291.47, p < .0001] and
an age by set size interaction [F(2, 84) = 19.27, p < .0001]. As set size increased, there was a
significant increase in RT for younger [F(2, 48) = 150.31, p < .0001] and older adults [F(2,
36) = 135.23, p < .0001], with older adults showing a greater increase than the young adults,
see Figure 2b. Pairwise comparisons showed reliable differences in RT between set sizes 1
and 4 and 4 and 7 in both age groups, all p < .0005. Both the RT-intercept (t(42) = 3.20, p
= .004) and the slope in RT with respect to set size (t(42) = 5.13, p < .0001) were greater in
the older than the younger adults.
Combining across age groups and partialing out the effects of age, the CR composite score
was positively correlated with dL at set size 4, dL at set size 7, and change in dL from set size
1 to 7 (dL slope), all r > .32, all p < .04. The size of these correlations did not differ across
age groups (as determined by the Fisher r – to – z transformation, all p > .24), except for the
correlation between composite CR and dL slope, which was significantly greater in the
young than in the older adults (z = 1.95, p = .05). There were no significant correlations
between composite CR and any of the RT measures (for age groups separately and when
combining across age groups).
3.2 Electrophysiological results
P3b amplitude and latency were assessed at posterior parietal electrodes (PZ, P3 and P4),
where the component was maximal (see Figure 3). Repeated measures ANOVA was used
with factors for age group, set size, electrode, and time (for amplitudes only, 100 ms bins
from 300 to 800 ms). Effects of time and electrode are not mentioned unless they involved
interactions with set size and/or age group. The P3b latency data from one older participant
was excluded from analysis because of excessive noise. Exclusion of this participant from
all other analyses did not alter the results.
3.3 Encoding Phase
P3b Amplitude—P3b amplitudes to encoded items showed a significant interaction
between age group and set size [F(2, 84) = 3.83, p =.026], between age group, set size, and
Speer and Soldan Page 8
Neurobiol Aging. Author manuscript; available in PMC 2016 March 01.
A
uthor M
anuscript
A
uthor M
anuscript
A
uthor M
anuscript
A
uthor M
anuscript
time [F(8, 336) = 2.52, p =.011], as well as between set size, time, and electrode [F(16, 672)
= 5.92, p < .001], indicating set size differences based on age and time. Separate follow-up
ANOVAs for each age group and time bin showed no significant effects involving set size
for the older adults [all p >= .08], suggesting that set size did not reliably modulate P3b
amplitudes for this age group during encoding. For the young adults, there were significant
set size effects during the 500–800 ms time window (all p < .05), but no interaction between
set size and electrode (all p > .35). Post-hoc t-test (averaging across electrodes and time
bins) indicated that P3b amplitude increased from set size 1 to 7 in the young adults from
500–800 ms [t(1, 24) = 2.45, p = .022]. Set size 4 was intermediary and did not differ from
set size 1, but was lower than set size 7 (p = .007).
P3b Latency—There was a significant main effect of set size [F(2, 84) = 3.12, p = .05]
and a significant interaction between set size and electrode [F(4, 168) = 4.87, p = .002].
Although the interaction between age group and set size did not reach significance [p = .10],
we analyzed the latency data separately for the two age groups because the amplitude data
had revealed an effect of set size for the young but not older individuals. Consistent with the
amplitude data, there was a main effect of set size on P3b latency for the young adults [F(2,
48) = 5.54, p = .001], but no effects involving set size for the older adults [all p > .10]. For
the young adults, a post-hoc t-test (averaging across electrodes) revealed no difference in
latency between set sizes 1 and 4 (t < 1), but significantly longer latencies at set size 7 than
at set size 1 (t(24) = 2.28, p = .03) and 4 (t(24) = 3.90, p = .0007, see Figure 4.
Correlation with Cognitive Reserve—Since there was a significant set size effect on
P3b amplitude from 500 to 800 ms in young adults, we averaged the amplitudes across this
time window and across electrodes, separately for each set size, to calculate the mean
change in P3b amplitude from set size 1 to 7 for each subject as an index of neural
processing that is sensitive to task demands (i.e., mean amplitude at set size 7 – mean
amplitude at set size 1). We then tested if this value correlated with the CR composite score.
No significant correlation with composite CR was observed. Likewise, the correlation
between the change in P3b latency from set size 1 to 7 (averaging across electrodes) and
composite CR in the young subjects was not significant. This suggests that the load-related
increase in P3b amplitude and latency in the young adults occurs independently of
composite CR.
3.4 Probe Phase
P3b Amplitude—P3b amplitudes to probes were smaller for older than younger adults
[F(1, 42) = 6.69 p = .013]. The effect of set size was significant [F(2, 84) = 9.12, p =.0004],
as were the interactions between set size and time [F(8, 336) = 4.38, p = .002], and between
set size, time, and electrode [F(16, 672) = 2.26, p = .037]. Separate follow-up ANOVAs for
each time bin showed a significant set size effect for each time window (all p < .03), but no
interactions between set size and electrode or set size and age (all p > .15). Post-hoc t-tests
(averaging across electrodes and time bins) confirmed that P3b amplitude decreased from
set size 1 to 7 in both the young [t(1, 24) = 2.40, p = .025] and older adults [t(1, 18) = 3.52, p
= .002]. Set size 4 was intermediary and not significantly different from set size 7 (p > .09
Speer and Soldan Page 9
Neurobiol Aging. Author manuscript; available in PMC 2016 March 01.
A
uthor M
anuscript
A
uthor M
anuscript
A
uthor M
anuscript
A
uthor M
anuscript
for both age groups). For the older adults, the difference between set sizes 1 and 4 was
significant (p = .005).
P3b latency—P3b latencies were longer for older than younger adults [F(1, 41) = 8.22, p
= .007] and varied as a function of set size [F(2,82) = 15.38, p < .001]. In addition, there was
a set size by electrode interaction [F(4, 160) = 2.92, p = .034], reflecting a smaller effect of
set size at electrode P4 than at electrodes PZ and P3. Post-hoc t-tests, collapsing across
electrodes, showed that latency was significantly shorter at set size 1 than at set size 7 in
both younger [t(24) = 4.43, p < .001] and older adults [t(18) = 2.99, p = .009]. Set size 4 was
intermediary and differed from set size 1 (p <= .056 in both age groups), but not from set
size 7 (see Figure 5).
Correlation with Cognitive Reserve—Because there was a significant set size effect on
P3b amplitude in each time bin from 300 to 800 ms in both age groups, we averaged the
amplitudes across this time window and across electrodes, separately for each set size, to
calculate the mean change in P3b amplitude from set size 1 to 7 for each subject (mean
change in P3b amplitude = amplitude at set size 7 – amplitude at set size 1). We then tested
if this value correlated with the CR composite score. Combining across age groups to
increase power, but partialing out the effect of age to account for the age-related decrease in
P3b amplitude, there was a negative correlation, r(41) = −.40 p = .009, such that individuals
with higher composite CR showed less change in P3b amplitude with increasing task
demands. See Figure 5 for a scatterplot of this correlation. This correlation was significant
for the group of older adults (r(17) = −0.70, p = .001), but did not reach significance in the
young adults r(23) = −0.25, p = .23. However, the size of the correlations was not
significantly different across age groups (z = 1.07, p = .28). Additionally, the correlation
between composite CR and change in P3b amplitude from set size 4 to 7 was significant for
the young adults (r(23) = −0.47, p = .02), indicating that when task demands are sufficiently
high, there is a similar relationship between demand-related change in P3b amplitude and
composite CR in both young and older adults.
For P3b latency, we also averaged across electrodes and found that the CR composite score
negatively correlated with the amount of change in P3b latency change from set size 1 to 7,
combining across both age groups, partialing out the effects of age, r(40) = −.55, p < .001
(see Figure 5). Thus, higher composite CR was associated with a smaller change in the
speed of neural processing as task demands increased. This correlation was significant for
both age groups, r(23) = −0.54, p = .006 for young adults and r(17) = −0.49, p = .046 for
older adults.
3.5 Relationship between neural inefficiency and cognitive reserve
There was a negative correlation between the CR composite score and neural inefficiency
scores for load-related changes in P3b amplitude with respect to both accuracy (dL slope:
partial r (41) = −.33, p = .035) and reaction time (RT slope−1: partial r(41) = −.47, p = .002;
RT intercept−1: partial r(41) = −.42, p = .005), partialing out the effects of age. This
suggests that independent of age, higher levels of composite CR are associated with less
neural inefficiency for P3b amplitude change with respect to dL slope, RT slope, and RT
Speer and Soldan Page 10
Neurobiol Aging. Author manuscript; available in PMC 2016 March 01.
A
uthor M
anuscript
A
uthor M
anuscript
A
uthor M
anuscript
A
uthor M
anuscript
intercept (see Figure 6). Separate analyses for each age group confirmed that these
correlations were significant in both the young and older adults (all p <= .05 one-tailed,
except for RT intercept−1 for young adults, where p = .15) and the size of the correlations
did not differ across age groups.
3.6. Does cognitive reserve modify age-related changes in P3b amplitude and latency?
We also tested if composite CR reduces the impact of aging on P3b amplitude (reduced with
aging) and latency (increased with aging). ANOVAs with group (young, old) and composite
CR (high, low) were performed for mean P3b amplitude and latency (averaging across set
sizes) and for P3b amplitude and latency at set size 7. There were no significant interactions
between age group and composite CR level, all p >= .10, indicating a similar age effect on
P3b amplitude and latency across CR levels.
4. Discussion
We examined the relationship between individual differences in CR in young and older
adults and individual differences in neural efficiency and capacity that have been
hypothesized to underlie the beneficial effects of higher CR. We investigated this
relationship by looking at the association between CR composite score and load-related
changes in P3b amplitude and latency during the performance of a verbal working memory
task that increased in difficulty from a set size of one to seven letters. As hypothesized, both
young and older individuals with higher composite CR were more accurate in the task at
higher set sizes than those with lower composite CR. Contrary to our predictions, there was
no association between CR composite score and load-related changes in P3b amplitude or
latency during the encoding phase of the task. For the probe (or retrieval) phase, we found
that independent of subjects’ age, higher levels of composite CR were associated with
smaller changes in P3b amplitude and latency with increasing working memory load, as we
had hypothesized. These findings support the view that young and older cognitively normal
adults with higher CR have neural networks that operate more efficiently when task
demands increase, consistent with prior fMRI studies (Bartres-Faz et al., 2009; Bosch et al.,
2010; Habeck et al., 2003; Habeck et al., 2005; Steffener et al., 2011; Stern et al., 2008). Our
results extend prior findings by showing that greater neural efficiency among high CR adults
not only reflects the amount of neural activation (as indexed by ERP component amplitude
or fMRI BOLD signal), but also the speed of neural processing, as indexed by ERP
component latency.
4.1 Neural Efficiency
We further corroborated the association between CR and neural efficiency by testing the
relationship between CR composite score and an index of neural inefficiency, which is the
ratio of the amount of demand-related neural activity (i.e., P3b amplitude slope with
increasing task load) per unit of behavioral performance (i.e., accuracy or RT slope with
increasing task load). We found that, indeed, higher composite CR was associated with less
neural inefficiency with respect to both accuracy (dL-slope) and reaction time (RT-slope and
RT-intercept). This suggests that individuals with lower composite CR showed greater
Speer and Soldan Page 11
Neurobiol Aging. Author manuscript; available in PMC 2016 March 01.
A
uthor M
anuscript
A
uthor M
anuscript
A
uthor M
anuscript
A
uthor M
anuscript
changes in activation as the task became more difficult although it benefited them less in
terms of performance, reflecting less efficient processing.
The present results are compatible with those by Habeck et al. (2005), who used a verbal
working memory task very similar to ours in an fMRI investigation of CR in young subjects.
Habeck et al. (2005) identified spatial covariance patterns of brain regions for each phase of
the task whose expression increased monotonically with increasing set size in the majority
of subjects. The degree to which subjects expressed these load-related patterns during the
delay and probe phases was inversely correlated with CR, indicating that smaller changes in
load-related activation were associated with higher CR. The load-related pattern expressed
during the encoding phase did not correlate with CR, consistent with the lack of a
relationship between CR composite score and P3b amplitude and latency observed during
the encoding phase of the present study.
Interestingly, while a few regions in the pattern identified by Habeck et al., (2005) for the
probe phase showed an increase in activation with set size (cerebellum, inferior frontal
gyrus), most regions showed a decrease with set size, including medial frontal and parietal
regions, cingulate gyrus, middle temporal gyrus, and parahippocampal gyrus. Although our
ERP results cannot be directly compared to these fMRI findings owing to the difference in
methodologies and analyses, the spatial pattern identified by Habeck et al. (2005) likely
overlaps with the network of regions that generated the P3b in the probe phase of the present
study, the amplitude of which also decreased with increasing task demands. While the
spatial localization of CR-related brain activity was not of primary interest in the present
study, our results, in combination with these fMRI results suggests that the brain regions
whose activity was modulated by composite CR in the present study consisted of a frontal-
temporal-parietal network. This interpretation is bolstered by source localization studies that
have consistently identified parietal, temporal-parietal, frontal, and cingulate cortex as
generators of the posterior P3b (Frodl et al., 2000; Li et al., 2009; Moores et al., 2003).
More interestingly, the results from fMRI studies using other behavioral paradigms have
also identified activity in frontal, temporal-parietal, and cingulate areas as being correlated
with level of CR, suggesting that activity in these brain regions may be most sensitive to
CR-related changes. As noted by Stern et al. (2008), there may be a general brain network
that underlies the beneficial effects of CR across age groups and tasks and that may be
broadly involved in executive and control processes. The present results would be consistent
with this possibility, although future studies are needed to test if the P3b – CR relationships
observed in this study generalize to other experimental tasks and stimulus types. If so, this
would have potentially important clinical consequences, as the P3b is relatively easy to
measure and could be used to track the effectiveness of interventions (both pharmacologic
and behavioral) designed to increase CR and improve neural functioning among middle-
aged and older adults. Many such cognitive training programs are currently available (e.g.,
Acevedo and Loewenstein, 2007; Olazaran et al., 2010), but consistent neural outcome
measures that generalize across a variety of tasks are lacking. However, future work is
needed to evaluate the reliability of the P3b for predicting CR level. Additionally, future
research should examine the relationship between CR and other ERP components,
particularly the P3a, which indexes frontal executive functions (Barcelo et al., 2006; Dien et
Speer and Soldan Page 12
Neurobiol Aging. Author manuscript; available in PMC 2016 March 01.
A
uthor M
anuscript
A
uthor M
anuscript
A
uthor M
anuscript
A
uthor M
anuscript
al., 2004). Given that this component appears to increase with aging (Alperin et al., 2014;
Fabiani et al., 1998), it might also be associated with individual differences in CR.
Another noteworthy finding is that the correlations between composite CR and load-related
changes in P3b amplitude and latency as well as between composite CR and several
behavioral measures were observed in a sample that included both younger and older adults
and were independent of age. This supports the view that CR develops across the lifespan. It
is also consistent with the view that high levels of CR could provide functional resilience in
the face of non age-related burden, such as traumatic brain injury that might occur at any age
(Fay et al., 2010; Levi et al., 2013).
Our results also are in line with the Compensation-Related Utilization of Neural Circuits
Hypothesis (CRUNCH; Reuter-Lorenz, 2008), which describes age-related changes in
performance and brain activation in terms of neural efficiency and capacity, similarly to the
concept of neural reserve. CRUNCH postulates that older adults have less efficient neural
networks, requiring them to engage a network to a greater degree than young adults when
task demands are low and leading them to reach the capacity of the network at lower levels
of difficulty than young adults (e.g., Daffner et al., 2011; Schneider-Garces et al., 2010).
Consistent with this model, we found that older adults had smaller P3b amplitudes and
longer latencies during the probe phase, even at the lower set sizes, consistent with greater
resource utilization and less efficient processing. Furthermore, the older adults showed
greater performance decrements with increasing set size than the young adults, while the
change in P3b amplitude and latency with increasing task difficulty during the probe phase
was the same in both age groups, which also suggests less efficient processing.
It is also important to consider ERP studies that have tested the relationship between P3b
amplitude or latency and intelligence. In line with our findings, Houlihan et al. (1998)
utilized a similar Sternberg WM task and found that P3b amplitude during the probe phase
decreased with set size. Furthermore, individuals with higher cognitive ability, as measured
by the Multidimensional Aptitude Battery, had greater P3 amplitudes at the higher set sizes
(and therefore smaller decrements with increasing set size), suggesting greater neural
efficiency of processing.
Studies using other experimental paradigms are more difficult to compare with our results
because they measured neural activity at a single level of task difficulty, rather than multiple
levels. As such, they do not directly address how intelligence relates to individual
differences in the way the brain copes with increasing task demands, but are more likely to
measure the association between intelligence and task-specific neural processing. For
instance, studies using oddball paradigms or cued Go-Nogo tasks have reported that
individuals with higher cognitive ability elicited greater P3b amplitudes and shorter P3b
latencies than individuals with lower cognitive ability (De Pascalis et al., 2008; Jausovec
and Jausovec, 2000; Liu et al., 2011; O’Donnell et al., 1992; Wronka et al., 2013). Assuming
that these tasks were at least moderately difficult, these results would be consistent with
ours, in that we also found that individuals with higher composite CR had faster P3b
latencies, as well as a trend toward larger P3b amplitudes, during the probe phase when task
demands were high (i.e., set size of 7). The benefit of tasks that parametrically manipulate
Speer and Soldan Page 13
Neurobiol Aging. Author manuscript; available in PMC 2016 March 01.
A
uthor M
anuscript
A
uthor M
anuscript
A
uthor M
anuscript
A
uthor M
anuscript
difficulty, as was done in our study, is that they may be better able to assess how well
individuals cope with increasing task demands irrespective of specific task features. This is
important when studying CR, because it has been hypothesized that high CR promotes
greater flexibility and adaptability to increasing task demands across a variety of tasks.
4.2 Neural Capacity
During the encoding phase of the task, only the young, but not the older adults,
demonstrated an increase in P3b amplitude and latency with increasing task difficulty. This
finding, along with better task performance among the young group, may provide some
evidence of greater neural capacity in the young compared to the older adults. Specifically,
the observed relationship suggests that young adults were able to boost activation when the
task became more challenging and engage in more extensive stimulus processing, which
may have supported their superior performance at the higher set sizes. Greater neural
capacity (here defined as higher network expression at higher levels of task demand) in
young compared to older adults has been described previously (e.g., Cappell et al., 2010;
Holtzer et al., 2009; Stern et al., 2012). The biological basis of this age-related capacity
difference is currently not known, but may be related to differences in neural connectivity
and plasticity (Burke and Barnes, 2006), white matter integrity (e.g., Bennett and Rypma,
2013), or brain oxygen metabolism (Hutchison et al., 2012) that manifest with aging.
It is important to note that this age-related capacity difference was unrelated to individual
differences in CR. Theoretical models of CR have postulated that higher CR is associated
with both greater neural efficiency and greater neural capacity, the two components of
neural reserve (Stern, 2009). While there is increasing evidence for a relationship between
CR and neural efficiency, few studies have reported associations between CR and neural
capacity (e.g., Scarmeas et al., 2003). Although null findings need to be interpreted
cautiously, this might indicate that CR is more closely linked to neural efficiency than to
neural capacity. Another possibility is that the load-related processes indexed by the P3b
during the encoding phase (such as sustained attentional allocation) are less amenable to
CR-related influences than the load-related processes indexed by the P3b during the test
phase (such as categorization, or working memory updating).
4.3 Cognitive reserve and age-related changes in neural activity
Consistent with prior studies, we found lower P3b amplitudes and longer latencies for the
older adults compared to the young individuals (McEvoy et al., 2001; Strayer et al., 1987).
This age difference did not vary as a function of CR composite score, suggesting that CR
does not directly alter the effects of aging on the P3b component. This finding is consistent
with the theoretical model of CR (e.g., Barulli and Stern, 2013; Stern, 2009), which
proposes that CR does not directly alter age or pathology-related neural changes, but rather
serves to modify the behavioral and clinical expression of those changes. In line with this
interpretation, both high and low composite CR older adults had smaller P3b amplitudes and
longer latencies than young adults even when task demands were low, but the high
composite CR individuals tended to perform better (as measured by dL) than the low
composite CR individuals. At the same time, these findings do not preclude the possibility
Speer and Soldan Page 14
Neurobiol Aging. Author manuscript; available in PMC 2016 March 01.
A
uthor M
anuscript
A
uthor M
anuscript
A
uthor M
anuscript
A
uthor M
anuscript
that CR modulates other age-related neural changes not examined in the current study, as
has been proposed by other investigators (Nyberg et al., 2012).
4.4 Conclusions
In sum, this study provided further support for the concept of neural reserve by
demonstrating that higher composite CR is associated with greater neural efficiency in terms
of less neural activity and faster processing speed with increasing task demands. While our
study examined verbal intelligence and educational background as components of CR, we
acknowledge that factors related to an enriched environment – such as occupational
complexity and participation in leisure and social activities – are also important components
of CR. Therefore, future studies are needed to address the generalizability of our findings to
other proxy measures of CR. We note, however, that education, vocabulary knowledge, and
reading ability tend to have similar clinical effects on dementia risk and cognitive aging as
these other components of CR (Richards and Sacker, 2003; Scarmeas et al., 2001),
suggesting that our findings are applicable to the broader concept of CR. Additionally, this
study underscores the utility of ERPs and other electrophysiological measures for testing
neural mechanisms of CR.
Acknowledgements
This work was supported by start-up funds and the J.P. Healey Grant awarded to Anja Soldan by the University of
Massachusetts, Dartmouth. We thank Kristina Monteiro and Adam Young for research assistance.
References
Acevedo A, Loewenstein DA. Nonpharmacological cognitive interventions in aging and dementia. J
Geriatr Psychiatry Neurol. 2007; 20:239–249. [PubMed: 18004010]
Alexander GE, Furey ML, Grady CL, Pietrini P, Brady DR, Mentis MJ, Schapiro MB. Association of
premorbid intellectual function with cerebral metabolism in Alzheimer’s disease: implications for
the cognitive reserve hypothesis. Am J Psychiatry. 1997; 154:165–172. [PubMed: 9016263]
Alperin BR, Mott KK, Rentz DM, Holcomb PJ, Daffner KR. Investigating the age-related “anterior
shift” in the scalp distribution of the P3b component using principal component analysis.
Psychophysiology. 2014; 51:620–633. [PubMed: 24660980]
Ances BM, Leontiev O, Perthen JE, Liang C, Lansing AE, Buxton RB. Regional differences in the
coupling of cerebral blood flow and oxygen metabolism changes in response to activation:
implications for BOLD-fMRI. Neuroimage. 2008; 39:1510–1521. [PubMed: 18164629]
Ances BM, Liang CL, Leontiev O, Perthen JE, Fleisher AS, Lansing AE, Buxton RB. Effects of aging
on cerebral blood flow, oxygen metabolism, and blood oxygenation level dependent responses to
visual stimulation. Hum Brain Mapp. 2009; 30:1120–1132. [PubMed: 18465743]
Barcelo F, Escera C, Corral MJ, Periáñez JA. Task switching and novelty processing activate a
common neural network for cognitive control. J Cogn Neurosci. 2006; 18:1734–1748. [PubMed:
17014377]
Bartres-Faz D, Sole-Padulles C, Junque C, Rami L, Bosch B, Bargallo N, Falcon C, Sanchez-Valle R,
Molinuevo JL. Interactions of cognitive reserve with regional brain anatomy and brain function
during a working memory task in healthy elders. Biol Psychol. 2009; 80:256–259. [PubMed:
19022337]
Barulli D, Stern Y. Efficiency, capacity, compensation, maintenance, plasticity: emerging concepts in
cognitive reserve. Trends Cogn Sci. 2013; 17:502–509. [PubMed: 24018144]
Beckles GL, Truman BI. (CDC), C.f.D.C.a.P. Education and income – United States, 2005 and 2009.
MMWR Surveill Summ. 2011; 60(Suppl):13–17. [PubMed: 21430614]
Speer and Soldan Page 15
Neurobiol Aging. Author manuscript; available in PMC 2016 March 01.
A
uthor M
anuscript
A
uthor M
anuscript
A
uthor M
anuscript
A
uthor M
anuscript
Bennett IJ, Rypma B. Advances in functional neuroanatomy: a review of combined DTI and fMRI
studies in healthy younger and older adults. Neurosci Biobehav Rev. 2013; 37:1201–1210.
[PubMed: 23628742]
Bosch B, Bartres-Faz D, Rami L, Arenaza-Urquijo EM, Fernandez-Espejo D, Junque C, Sole-Padulles
C, Sanchez-Valle R, Bargallo N, Falcon C, Molinuevo JL. Cognitive reserve modulates task-
induced activations and deactivations in healthy elders, amnestic mild cognitive impairment and
mild Alzheimer’s disease. Cortex. 2010; 46:451–461. [PubMed: 19560134]
Burke SN, Barnes CA. Neural plasticity in the ageing brain. Nat Rev Neurosci. 2006; 7:30–40.
[PubMed: 16371948]
Cappell KA, Gmeindl L, Reuter-Lorenz PA. Age differences in prefontal recruitment during verbal
working memory maintenance depend on memory load. Cortex. 2010; 46:462–473. [PubMed:
20097332]
Daffner KR, Chong H, Sun X, Tarbi EC, Riis JL, McGinnis SM, Holcomb PJ. Mechanisms underlying
age- and performance-related differences in working memory. J Cogn Neurosci. 2011; 23:1298–
1314. [PubMed: 20617886]
De Pascalis V, Varriale V, Matteoli A. Intelligence and P3 components of the event-related potential
elicited during an auditory discrimination task with masking. Intelligence. 2008; 36:35–47.
Dien J, Spencer KM, Donchin E. Parsing the late positive complex: mental chronometry and the ERP
components that inhabit the neighborhood of the P300. Psychophysiology. 2004; 41:665–678.
[PubMed: 15318873]
Donchin E, Coles MGH. Is the P300 component a manifestation of context updating? Behavioral Brain
Science. 1988; 11:357–374.
Fabiani M, Friedman D, Cheng JC. Individual differences in P3 scalp distribution in older adults, and
their relationship to frontal lobe function. Psychophysiology. 1998; 35:698–708. [PubMed:
9844431]
Fabiani M, Gordon BA, Maclin EL, Pearson MA, Brumback-Peltz CR, Low KA, McAuley E, Sutton
BP, Kramer AF, Gratton G. Neurovascular coupling in normal aging: a combined optical, ERP and
fMRI study. Neuroimage. 2014; 85(Pt 1):592–607. [PubMed: 23664952]
Fay TB, Yeates KO, Taylor HG, Bangert B, Dietrich A, Nuss KE, Rusin J, Wright M. Cognitive
reserve as a moderator of postconcussive symptoms in children with complicated and
uncomplicated mild traumatic brain injury. J Int Neuropsychol Soc. 2010; 16:94–105. [PubMed:
19835663]
Fleisher AS, Podraza KM, Bangen KJ, Taylor C, Sherzai A, Sidhar K, Liu TT, Dale AM, Buxton RB.
Cerebral perfusion and oxygenation differences in Alzheimer’s disease risk. Neurobiol Aging.
2009; 30:1737–1748. [PubMed: 18325636]
Frodl T, Juckel G, Gallinat J, Bottlender R, Riedel M, Preuss U, Moller HJ, Hegerl U. Dipole
localization of P300 and normal aging. Brain Topogr. 2000; 13:3–9. [PubMed: 11073089]
Gevins A, Smith ME. Neurophysiological measures of working memory and individual differences in
cognitive ability and cognitive style. Cereb Cortex. 2000; 10:829–839. [PubMed: 10982744]
Habeck C, Hilton HJ, Zarahn E, Flynn J, Moeller J, Stern Y. Relation of cognitive reserve and task
performance to expression of regional covariance networks in an event-related fMRI study of
nonverbal memory. Neuroimage. 2003; 20:1723–1733. [PubMed: 14642482]
Habeck C, Rakitin BC, Moeller J, Scarmeas N, Zarahn E, Brown T, Stern Y. An event-related fMRI
study of the neural networks underlying the encoding, maintenance, and retrieval phase in a
delayed-match-to-sample task. Brain Res Cogn Brain Res. 2005; 23:207–220. [PubMed:
15820629]
Holtzer R, Rakitin BC, Steffener J, Flynn J, Kumar A, Stern Y. Age effects on load-dependent brain
activations in working memory for novel material. Brain Res. 2009; 1249:148–161. [PubMed:
18983833]
Houlihan M, Stelmack R, Campbell K. Intelligence and the Effects of Perceptual Processing Demands,
Task Difficulty and Processing Speed on P300, Reaction Time and Movement Time. Intelligence.
1998; 26:9–25.
Speer and Soldan Page 16
Neurobiol Aging. Author manuscript; available in PMC 2016 March 01.
A
uthor M
anuscript
A
uthor M
anuscript
A
uthor M
anuscript
A
uthor M
anuscript
Hutchison JL, Lu H, Rypma B. Neural mechanisms of age-related slowing: the DeltaCBF/
DeltaCMRO2 ratio mediates age-differences in BOLD signal and human performance. Cereb
Cortex. 2012; 23:2337–2346. [PubMed: 22879349]
Jausovec N, Jausovec K. Correlations between ERP parameters and intelligence: a reconsideration.
Biol Psychol. 2000; 55:137–154. [PubMed: 11118680]
Kok A. On the utility of P3 amplitude as a measure of processing capacity. Psychophysiology. 2001;
38:557–577. [PubMed: 11352145]
Levi Y, Rassovsky Y, Agranov E, Sela-Kaufman M, Vakil E. Cognitive reserve components as
expressed in traumatic brain injury. J Int Neuropsychol Soc. 2013; 19:664–671. [PubMed:
23575273]
Li Y, Wang LQ, Hu Y. Localizing P300 generators in high-density event- related potential with fMRI.
Med Sci Monit. 2009; 15:MT47–MT53. [PubMed: 19247255]
Linden DE. The p300: where in the brain is it produced and what does it tell us? Neuroscientist. 2005;
11:563–576. [PubMed: 16282597]
Liu T, Xiao T, Shi J, Zhao D. Response preparation and cognitive control of highly intelligent
children: a Go-Nogo event-related potential study. Neuroscience. 2011; 180:122–128. [PubMed:
21329744]
Luck, SJ. An introduction to the event-related potential technique. First ed.. Cambridge, MA: MIT
Press; 2005.
Mattis, S. Dementia Rating Scale. Odessa, FL: Psychological Assessment Resources; 1988.
McCarthy G, Donchin E. A metric for thought: a comparison of P300 latency and reaction time.
Science. 1981; 211:77–80. [PubMed: 7444452]
McEvoy LK, Pellouchoud E, Smith ME, Gevins A. Neurophysiological signals of working memory in
normal aging. Brain Res Cogn Brain Res. 2001; 11:363–376. [PubMed: 11339986]
Moores KA, Clark CR, Hadfield JL, Brown GC, Taylor DJ, Fitzgibbon SP, Lewis AC, Weber DL,
Greenblatt R. Investigating the generators of the scalp recorded visuo-verbal P300 using cortically
constrained source localization. Hum Brain Mapp. 2003; 18:53–77. [PubMed: 12454912]
Morgan HM, Klein C, Boehm SG, Shapiro KL, Linden DE. Working memory load for faces
modulates P300, N170, and N250r. J Cogn Neurosci. 2008; 20:989–1002. [PubMed: 18211245]
Nelson, HE. The National Adult Reading Test (NART): Test manual. United Kingdom: NFER-Nelson,
Windsor; 1982.
Neubauer AC, Fink A. Intelligence and neural efficiency. Neurosci Biobehav Rev. 2009; 33:1004–
1023. [PubMed: 19580915]
Nyberg L, Lövdén M, Riklund K, Lindenberger U, Bäckman L. Memory aging and brain maintenance.
Trends Cogn Sci. 2012; 16:292–305. [PubMed: 22542563]
O’Donnell BF, Friedman S, Swearer JM, Drachman DA. Active and passive P3 latency and
psychometric performance: influence of age and individual differences. Int J Psychophysiol. 1992;
12:187–195. [PubMed: 1592672]
Olazaran J, Reisberg B, Clare L, Cruz I, Pena-Casanova J, Del Ser T, Woods B, Beck C, Auer S, Lai
C, Spector A, Fazio S, Bond J, Kivipelto M, Brodaty H, Rojo JM, Collins H, Teri L, Mittelman M,
Orrell M, Feldman HH, Muniz R. Nonpharmacological therapies in Alzheimer’s disease: a
systematic review of efficacy. Dement Geriatr Cogn Disord. 2010; 30:161–178. [PubMed:
20838046]
Pelosi L, Holly M, Slade T, Hayward M, Barrett G, Blumhardt LD. Event-related potential (ERP)
correlates of performance of intelligence tests. Electroencephalogr Clin Neurophysiol. 1992;
84:515–520. [PubMed: 1280197]
Peng W, Hu L, Zhang Z, Hu Y. Causality in the association between P300 and alpha event-related
desynchronization. PLoS One. 2012; 7:e34163. [PubMed: 22511933]
Perneczky R, Drzezga A, Boecker H, Ceballos-Baumann AO, Granert O, Forstl H, Kurz A,
Haussermann P. Activities of daily living, cerebral glucose metabolism, and cognitive reserve in
Lewy body and Parkinson’s disease. Dement Geriatr Cogn Disord. 2008; 26:475–481. [PubMed:
18984958]
Pettigrew C, Soldan A, Li S, Lu Y, Wang MC, Selnes O, Moghekar A, O’Brien R, Albert M.
Relationship of Cognitive Reserve and APOE Status to the Emergence of Clinical Symptoms in
Speer and Soldan Page 17
Neurobiol Aging. Author manuscript; available in PMC 2016 March 01.
A
uthor M
anuscript
A
uthor M
anuscript
A
uthor M
anuscript
A
uthor M
anuscript
Preclinical Alzheimer’s Disease. Cognitive Neuroscience. 2013; 4(3–4):136–142. [PubMed:
24168200]
Pinal D, Zurrón M, Díaz F. Effects of load and maintenance duration on the time course of information
encoding and retrieval in working memory: from perceptual analysis to post-categorization
processes. Front Hum Neurosci. 2014; 8:165. [PubMed: 24744715]
Polich J. Updating P300: an integrative theory of P3a and P3b. Clin Neurophysiol. 2007; 118:2128–
2148. [PubMed: 17573239]
Reuter-Lorenz PA, Park DC. Human neuroscience and the aging mind: a new look at old problems. J
Gerontol B Psychol Sci Soc Sci. 2010; 65:405–415. [PubMed: 20478901]
Reuter-Lorenz PAC, KA. Neurocognitive aging and the compensation hypothesis. Current Directions
in Psychological Science. 2008; 17:177–182.
Richards M, Sacker A. Lifetime antecedents of cognitive reserve. J Clin Exp Neuropsychol. 2003;
25:614–624. [PubMed: 12815499]
Scarmeas N, Levy G, Tang MX, Manly J, Stern Y. Influence of leisure activity on the incidence of
Alzheimer’s disease. Neurology. 2001; 57:2236–2242. [PubMed: 11756603]
Scarmeas N, Zarahn E, Anderson KE, Hilton J, Flynn J, Van Heertum RL, Sackeim HA, Stern Y.
Cognitive reserve modulates functional brain responses during memory tasks: a PET study in
healthy young and elderly subjects. Neuroimage. 2003; 19:1215–1227. [PubMed: 12880846]
Schneider-Garces NJ, Gordon BA, Brumback-Peltz CR, Shin E, Lee Y, Sutton BP, Maclin EL,
Gratton G, Fabiani M. Span, CRUNCH, and beyond: working memory capacity and the aging
brain. J Cogn Neurosci. 2010; 22:655–669. [PubMed: 19320550]
Siedlecki KL, Stern Y, Reuben A, Sacco RL, Elkind MS, Wright CB. Construct validity of cognitive
reserve in a multiethnic cohort: The Northern Manhattan Study. J Int Neuropsychol Soc. 2009;
15:558–569. [PubMed: 19573274]
Snodgrass JG, Corwin J. Pragmatics of measuring recognition memory: applications to dementia and
amnesia. J Exp Psychol Gen. 1988; 117:34–50. [PubMed: 2966230]
Soldan A, Pettigrew C, Li S, Wang MC, Moghekar A, Selnes OA, Albert M, O’Brien R. Relationship
of cognitive reserve and cerebrospinal fluid biomarkers to the emergence of clinical symptoms in
preclinical Alzheimer’s disease. Neurobiol Aging. 2013; 34:2827–2834. [PubMed: 23916061]
Springer MV, McIntosh AR, Winocur G, Grady CL. The relation between brain activity during
memory tasks and years of education in young and older adults. Neuropsychology. 2005; 19:181–
192. [PubMed: 15769202]
Steffener J, Reuben A, Rakitin BC, Stern Y. Supporting performance in the face of age-related neural
changes: testing mechanistic roles of cognitive reserve. Brain Imaging Behav. 2011; 5:212–221.
[PubMed: 21607547]
Stern Y. Cognitive reserve. Neuropsychologia. 2009; 47:2015–2028. [PubMed: 19467352]
Stern Y, Rakitin BC, Habeck C, Gazes Y, Steffener J, Kumar A, Reuben A. Task difficulty modulates
young-old differences in network expression. Brain Res. 2012; 1435:130–145. [PubMed:
22197699]
Stern Y, Zarahn E, Habeck C, Holtzer R, Rakitin BC, Kumar A, Flynn J, Steffener J, Brown T. A
common neural network for cognitive reserve in verbal and object working memory in young but
not old. Cereb Cortex. 2008; 18:959–967. [PubMed: 17675368]
Sternberg S. High-speed scanning in human memory. Science. 1966; 153:652–654. [PubMed:
5939936]
Strayer DL, Wickens CD, Braune R. Adult age differences in the speed and capacity of information
processing: 2. An electrophysiological approach. Psychol Aging. 1987; 2:99–110. [PubMed:
3268210]
Sumowski JF, Rocca MA, Leavitt VM, Riccitelli G, Comi G, DeLuca J, Filippi M. Brain reserve and
cognitive reserve in multiple sclerosis: what you’ve got and how you use it. Neurology. 2013;
80:2186–2193. [PubMed: 23667062]
Walhovd KB, Fjell AM. The relationship between P3 and neuropsychological function in an adult life
span sample. Biol Psychol. 2003; 62:65–87. [PubMed: 12505768]
Wechsler, D. Wechsler adult intelligence scale-revised manual. New York: The Psychological
Corporation; 1981.
Speer and Soldan Page 18
Neurobiol Aging. Author manuscript; available in PMC 2016 March 01.
A
uthor M
anuscript
A
uthor M
anuscript
A
uthor M
anuscript
A
uthor M
anuscript
Wilson RS, Mendes De Leon CF, Barnes LL, Schneider JA, Bienias JL, Evans DA, Bennett DA.
Participation in cognitively stimulating activities and risk of incident Alzheimer disease. JAMA.
2002; 287:742–748. [PubMed: 11851541]
Wronka E, Kaiser J, Coenen AM. Psychometric intelligence and P3 of the event-related potentials
studied with a 3-stimulus auditory oddball task. Neurosci Lett. 2013; 535:110–115. [PubMed:
23266476]
Zarahn E, Rakitin B, Abela D, Flynn J, Stern Y. Age-related changes in brain activation during a
delayed item recognition task. Neurobiol Aging. 2007; 28:784–798. [PubMed: 16621168]
Speer and Soldan Page 19
Neurobiol Aging. Author manuscript; available in PMC 2016 March 01.
A
uthor M
anuscript
A
uthor M
anuscript
A
uthor M
anuscript
A
uthor M
anuscript
Highlights
• Healthy young and older adults performed a verbal working memory task.
• High cognitive reserve (CR) was associated with smaller changes in P3b
amplitude and latency with increasing task difficulty, regardless of age.
• Our findings underscore the utility of ERPs for testing neural mechanisms of
CR.
Speer and Soldan Page 20
Neurobiol Aging. Author manuscript; available in PMC 2016 March 01.
A
uthor M
anuscript
A
uthor M
anuscript
A
uthor M
anuscript
A
uthor M
anuscript
Figure 1.
A schematic diagram of the Sternberg verbal working memory task illustrating the time
course of a single trial.
Speer and Soldan Page 21
Neurobiol Aging. Author manuscript; available in PMC 2016 March 01.
A
uthor M
anuscript
A
uthor M
anuscript
A
uthor M
anuscript
A
uthor M
anuscript
Figure 2.
Behavioral performance on the verbal working memory task. These graphs depict the
parametric modulation of (A) mean sensitivity (dL) and (B) mean reaction time as a function
of increasing set size for younger and older adults. * Significant difference between groups,
p < .
05.
Speer and Soldan Page 22
Neurobiol Aging. Author manuscript; available in PMC 2016 March 01.
A
uthor M
anuscript
A
uthor M
anuscript
A
uthor M
anuscript
A
uthor M
anuscript
Figure 3.
Stimulus-locked, grand-averaged waveforms showing the P3b component during (A) the
encoding phase and (B) the probe presentation phase. For the encoding phase, there was no
reliable effect of set size on P3b amplitude and latency in the older adults, whereas young
adults showed an increase in amplitude with increasing set size from 500 – 800 ms. For the
probe phase, as set size increased, the amplitude of the P3b component decreased
monotonically from 300–800 ms and the half-area latency increased in both young and older
adults. The voltage maps on the right show the scalp distribution of activity at the time the
P3b component peaked (averaging across set-sizes).
Speer and Soldan Page 23
Neurobiol Aging. Author manuscript; available in PMC 2016 March 01.
A
uthor M
anuscript
A
uthor M
anuscript
A
uthor M
anuscript
A
uthor M
anuscript
Figure 4.
Encoding phase. (A) Mean P3b Amplitudes by set size from 500 – 800 ms and (B) Mean
P3b latencies by set size. P3b amplitude from 500 – 800 ms increased from set size 1 to 7 in
the younger adults, but not older adults. Likewise mean P3b latency increased from set-size
1 to 7 in the young but not the older adults. However, these changes were not associated
with CR (amplitude: p = .32; latency: p = .76). * Significant difference between groups, p < .
05.
Speer and Soldan Page 24
Neurobiol Aging. Author manuscript; available in PMC 2016 March 01.
A
uthor M
anuscript
A
uthor M
anuscript
A
uthor M
anuscript
A
uthor M
anuscript
Figure 5.
Probe presentation phase. (A) P3b Amplitudes (from 300 – 800 ms) and latencies by set size
for the probe presentation phase. (B) Scatterplots illustrating the correlation between
composite cognitive reserve score and the change in P3b peak amplitude from 300 – 800 ms
(top), and the correlation between composite cognitive reserve and P3b peak latency
(bottom) during the probe presentation phase for younger and older adults. Correlation
coefficients are for the entire group, partialing out the effects of age. * Significant difference
between groups, p < .05.
Speer and Soldan Page 25
Neurobiol Aging. Author manuscript; available in PMC 2016 March 01.
A
uthor M
anuscript
A
uthor M
anuscript
A
uthor M
anuscript
A
uthor M
anuscript
Figure 6.
Scatterplots illustrating the correlation between composite cognitive reserve scores and
neural inefficiency with respect to dL slope (top panel), RT slope (middle panel), and the RT
intercept (bottom panel) during the probe presentation phase for younger adults (□) and
older adults (▲), partialing out the effects of age.
Speer and Soldan Page 26
Neurobiol Aging. Author manuscript; available in PMC 2016 March 01.
A
uthor M
anuscript
A
uthor M
anuscript
A
uthor M
anuscript
A
uthor M
anuscript
A
uthor M
anuscript
A
uthor M
anuscript
A
uthor M
anuscript
A
uthor M
anuscript
Speer and Soldan Page 27
Table 1
Participant Characteristics
Young
(n = 25)
Old
(n = 19)
Female/Male 10/15 17/2
Age ** 20.1 (2.3) 70.2 (5.1)
Education (yr) * 14.0 (1.41) 16.2 (3.3)
DRS N/A 142.6 (2.0)
NART-IQ ** 112.4 (6.1) 120.8 (6.5)
WAIS-R
vocabulary
11.7 (2.8) 12.7 (2.2)
†
Note: means and standard deviations (in parentheses) for demographic variables and neuropsychological test scores. DRS, Dementia Rating Scale;
NART-IQ, North American Adult Reading Test estimated IQ; WAIS-R vocabulary, Wechsler Adult Intelligence Scale, Revised, vocabulary
subtest, age-scaled score.
*
Significant difference between groups, p < .05.
**
Significant difference between groups, p < .0001.
Neurobiol Aging. Author manuscript; available in PMC 2016 March 01.
Mark L. Howe & Sarah R. Garner & Emma Threadgold &
Linden J. Ball
Published online: 18 March 2015
# The Author(s) 2015. This article is published with open access at Springerlink.com
Abstract Like true memories, false memories are capable of
priming answers to insight-based problems. Recent research
has attempted to extend this paradigm to more advanced
problem-solving tasks, including those involving verbal ana-
logical reasoning. However, these experiments ar
e
constrained inasmuch as problem solutions could be generat-
ed via spreading activation mechanisms (much like false
memories themselves) rather than using complex reasoning
processes. In three experiments we examined false memory
priming of complex analogical reasoning tasks in the absence
of simple semantic associations. In Experiment 1, we demon-
strated the robustness of false memory priming in analogical
reasoning when backward associative strength among the
problem terms was eliminated. In Experiments 2a and 2b,
we extended these findings by demonstrating priming on new-
ly created homonym analogies that can only be solved by
inhibiting semantic associations within the analogy. Overall,
the findings of the present experiments provide evidence that
the efficacy of false memory priming extends to complex an-
alogical reasoning problems.
Keywords Priming . Analogical reasoning . False memory .
DRMparadigm . Homonyms . Spreading activation
Memory is highly flexible and reconstructive, designed to
retain information about the past, interpret the present, and
support simulations of future events (e.g., Howe, 2011;
Newman & Lindsay, 2009; Schacter, Guerin, & St. Jacques,
2011). Interestingly, recent research has shown that memory is
highly functional, regardless of whether we are talking about
memories for events that actually occurred (i.e., true memo-
ries) or for self-generated memories of events that did not
occur (i.e., false memories). For example, a significant body
of research has demonstrated that true memories are able to
prime performance on related memory tasks (e.g., implicit
memory; see Gulan & Valerjev, 2010) as well as non-
memory tasks such as verbal problem solving (e.g.,
Mednick, Mednick, & Mednick, 1964).
Priming refers to Ba change in the ability to identify, pro-
duce, or classify an item as a result of a prior encounter with
that item, or a related item^ (Schacter, Gallo, & Kensinger,
2007, p. 356). In the case of analogical reasoning, for exam-
ple, there is a well-established body of evidence demonstrat-
ing that people are able to transfer directly their prior memo-
ries of problems and their solutions in order to assist them in
tackling new, related problems (e.g., Bassok & Holyoak,
1989; Richland, Zur, & Holyoak, 2007; for a recent review,
see Holyoak, 2012). Although such analogical reasoning pro-
cesses appear to rely largely on direct or explicit memory
retrieval, there is also evidence that prior memories can influ-
ence reasoning and problem solving through intuitive mecha-
nisms that operate indirectly or implicitly. Such intuitive pro-
cesses appear to have a basis either in tacitly learned memory
associations (e.g., Osman & Stavy, 2006; Sloman, 1996) or in
rules that were once deliberatively acquired but which have
been practiced so extensively that they have reached a state of
automaticity in procedural memory (e.g., Kahneman & Klein,
2009).
Kokinov (1990; Kokinov & Petrov, 2001), for example,
has shown that implicit memory priming can facilitate perfor-
mance with complex deductive, inductive, and analogical rea-
soning problems, benefitting both the strategy taken and the
M. L. Howe (*) : S. R. Garner : E. Threadgold
Department of Psychology, City University London, Northampton
Square, London EC1V 0HB, UK
e-mail: Mark.Howe.1@city.ac.uk
L. J. Ball
School of Psychology, University of Central Lancashire, Preston PR
1
2HE, UK
Mem Cogn (2015) 43:879–895
DOI 10.3758/s13421-015-0513-7
success of the problem-solving process. Schunn and Dunbar
(1996) have provided further support for priming effects in
analogical problem solving, demonstrating that conceptual
knowledge of one knowledge domain (i.e., biochemistry)
can spontaneously influence complex reasoning in another,
unrelated knowledge domain (i.e., molecular genetics) via im-
plicit priming, leading to facilitated problem solving as mea-
sured through both accuracy and the speed of solution gener-
ation. Schunn and Dunbar’s sophisticated controls and mea-
sures also allowed for any involvement of explicit memory
processes to be ruled out as a cause of solution success in the
implicit priming conditions.
More recently, it has been discovered that it is not just true
memories that can prime performance on cognitive tasks such
as problem solving but that false memories can also have key
beneficial effects. A common procedure used to generate false
memories is the Deese/Roediger-McDermott (DRM) para-
digm (Deese, 1959; Roediger & McDermott, 1995). Here,
participants are presented with words (e.g., snooze, doze,
wake, rest) that are all semantic associates of a non-
presented word or so-called critical lure (e.g., sleep). When
asked to remember the words on the list, participants frequent-
ly remember the critical lure (a false memory) along with the
presented items. Using this paradigm, it has been shown that
false memories can prime solutions to problem-solving tasks
such as insight-based Compound Remote Associate Tasks
(CRATs; see Howe, Garner, Dewhurst, & Ball, 2010) and
verbal proportional analogies (Howe, Threadgold, Norbury,
Garner, & Ball, 2013).
The latter problems (i.e., verbal proportional analogie
s)
involve the presentation of items that have the form a is to b
as c is to d, where participants are given the a, b, and c terms
and are asked to generate the missing d term (e.g., Ball, Hoyle,
& Towse, 2010; Goswami, 2001; Goswami & Brown, 1989,
1990). For example, the participant might be given the prob-
lem ‘dog is to kennel as bird is to ?’ and asked to generate the
solution term. The optimal way to solve such analogies in-
volves identifying the relation that exists between the a and
b terms (in this case, ‘inhabits’) and thenmapping this relation
onto the c term (‘bird’) in order to generate the answer ‘nest.’
Proportional analogies of this type are non-trivial, especially
for children, but even adult performance is rarely error free
(e.g., see Green, Fugelsang, & Dunbar, 2006). Such problems
therefore frequently feature in intelligence tests (Sternberg,
1977) and in academic examinations such as the statutory
assessment test.
Although non-trivial, proportional analogies are typically
easier for adults to solve than are many other forms of com-
plex analogy problems that have been studied in the literature,
which tend to involve the identification and mapping of mul-
tiple, hierarchically embedded ‘systems’ of relations (for
pioneering research with such problems, see Gentner &
Toupin, 1986; Gick & Holyoak, 1983; Keane, 1987). We
acknowledge that proportional analogies do not involve the
sophistication of complex analogies of the type that have dom-
inated much of the analogical reasoning literature, and that are
typically very challenging for adults to solve in the absence of
directive hints to use specific past experiences. Nevertheless, a
major advantage of studying false memory priming effects
with proportional analogies derives from the way in which
such problems afford an opportunity to impose very strict
controls on the terms that they are composed of. As will be
shown in the experiments that we present below, such controls
facilitate the examination of some unique aspects of analogi-
cal problem solving that have hitherto remained unexplored.
Although it has been established that both true and false
memories can effectively prime solutions to problem-solving
tasks (including proportional analogies), an interesting devel-
opment has been that false memories can actually be more
effective primes for problem solving than true memories
(Howe et al., 2013; Howe, Wilkinson, & Monaghan, 2012;
Wilkinson, 2014). This is consistent with the literature
documenting the different strengths of true and false memo-
ries where the latter have been shown to be stronger than the
former (e.g., Brainerd, Reyna, & Brandse, 1995; Howe,
Candel, Otgaar, Malone, & Wimmer, 2010a; McDermott,
1996). For example, whereas truememories decline over time,
false memories persist across retention intervals (days, weeks;
Brainerd et al., 1995; McDermott, 1996) and negative false
memories can actually increase over time (e.g., Howe et al.,
2010a).
That false memories can be stronger than true memories
has been attributed to the different ways in which they are
formed. Specifically, false memories tend to be self-generated
(i.e., occurring spontaneously and automatically as a result of
internal semantic activation) whereas true memories are often
other-generated (e.g., presented on a list by the experimenter).
This self- versus other-generated difference holds regardless
of the nature of the paradigm being used and has been ob-
served using the standard DRM paradigm (e.g., Howe, 2005),
when participants are remembering stories, pictures, and
videos (e.g., Otgaar, Howe, Peters, Sauerland, &
Raymaekers, 2013; Otgaar, Howe, Peters, Smeets, & Moritz,
2014), and when entire memories are being implanted (e.g.,
Otgaar, Smeets, & Peters, 2012). The efficacy of self-
generated information is underpinned by a substantial body
of research showing that self-generated information is not on-
ly encoded at a deeper level but is also significantly more
likely to be remembered than other-generated (i.e., experi-
menter presented) information (Bjorklund, 2004; Slamecka
& Graf, 1978). Thus, if priming effects are monotonically
related to memory strength, then false memories should be
better primes than true memories, particularly following a de-
lay. The benefit of falsely remembered items in priming solu-
tions to problem-solving tasks (e.g., CRATs) has been
established both with adults (Howe et al., 2010b) and children
880 Mem Cogn (2015) 43:879–895
(Howe, Garner, Charlesworth, & Knott, 2011). Howe et al.
(2013) attempted to extend this effect to more complex rea-
soning tasks by using false memories to prime solutions to
analogical reasoning problems. Like the research with
CRATs, both adults and children were primed on verbal pro-
portional analogies of the form a is to b as c is to d and were
asked to generate the d term. The solution to six of the nine
verbal analogies was also the critical lure from previously
presented DRM lists (e.g., desert is to hot as arctic is to cold,
where cold was both the solution to the analogy and the crit-
ical lure of a DRM list). For the six analogies that were primed
(the remaining three were not primed), three were primed by
having the critical lure presented as a list item (a ‘true’ or
other-generated memory) and the remaining three were
primed by not having the critical lure as a list item (a ‘false’
or self-generated memory). The results showed that, unsur-
prisingly, adults solved the analogies more quickly than chil-
dren. Importantly, both adults and children solved verbal anal-
ogies more quickly when primed with a false memory than
when unprimed or when primed by a true memory (there were
no differences between the latter two conditions).
Although these effects for false memory priming of analo-
gies are interesting, they are also somewhat limited. This is
because Howe et al. (2013) used relatively straightforward
analogies that were solved quickly and easily by children
and adults alike. Although this allowed for a demonstration
of priming effects in both adults and children, a downside is
that priming in this context represents activation of simple
semantic associates and not the priming of complex reasoning
relations themselves.
To explain, the distinction between the priming of simple
semantic associations versus the priming of more complex,
analytic problem solving is of particular concern in the verbal
analogies literature, where a debate exists concerning the
mechanisms by which proportional analogies are solved.
Some researchers (e.g., Green et al., 2006) suggest that pro-
portional analogies are solved analytically in the optimal man-
ner described above, which involves mapping the relation
between the a and b terms onto the c term in order to generate
the answer d. Others (e.g., Sternberg & Nigro, 1980), howev-
er, have proposed that proportional analogies are typically
solved using semantic associations (particularly by children;
e.g., see Ball et al., 2010; Cheshire, Muldoon, Francis, Lewis,
& Ball, 2007; Siegler & Svetina, 2002) in a similar manner to
the spreading activation processes thought to underlie the so-
lutions to CRATs. Given the relatively simplistic nature of
Howe et al.’s (2013) verbal analogies, solutions could have
been generated using associations generated via spreading ac-
tivation. These analogies could be solved analytically through
relational mapping, but given the high semantic association
between the c and d terms, it was equally possible that these
analogies provided more of a semantic or word association
task than a true test of analogical reasoning. This could mean
that what Howe et al. (2013) demonstrated was not the ability
of false memories to prime analogical reasoning via a
relational-mapping process but simply their ability to prime
closely related semantic associations (e.g., where the b term
‘hot’ or the c term ‘arctic’ simply primed the d term ‘cold’).
Therefore, a task is needed that can be used to demonstrate the
ability of false memories to prime the solutions to complex
reasoning problems in the absence of simple semantic
associations.
The purpose of the present research was therefore twofold.
First, we wanted to develop new analogical reasoning tasks,
ones that rely less heavily on simple semantic associations and
instead are more dependent on analytic, relational mapping.
Second, we wanted to investigate whether false memories are
still capable of priming the solutions to these complex analog-
ical reasoning tasks when these solutions rely less heavily on
spreading activation among a single set of semantic associa-
tions. In order to do this, we have developed two new sets of
analogical reasoning tasks.
In Experiment 1, we created a set of verbal proportional
analogies that are considerably less semantically related than
those used in the previous experiment (Howe et al., 2013).
Specifically, by controlling backward associative strength
(BAS; a numerical measure of the likelihood that a target word
will be produced given a cue word) it was possible to reduce
(or in most cases eliminate) the semantic relationship between
the a to d, b to d, and c to d terms. We then calculated an
overall cumulative BAS score for the target word d (solution)
being produced as a simple associate of the cue words (a, b,
and c terms) provided in the analogy. The lower this cumula-
tive BAS score, the less likely the analogical problem is to be
solved by spreading activation of associations in memory
from the analogy terms alone, independent of analytic reason-
ing. When we calculated cumulative BAS for the analogies
used in Howe et al. (2013), the value was 3.94. In contrast, the
cumulative BAS of the analogies used in our first experiment
was 0.23. A one-way analysis of variance (ANOVA) con-
firmed that there was a significant difference between the cu-
mulative BAS of the analogies in the experiment reported by
Howe et al. and those used in our Experiment 1. Thus,
Experiment 1 provides a more appropriate demonstration of
false memory priming of analogy problems requiring true an-
alogical reasoning rather than problems that merely tap into
semantic associations of memory, such as those reported in
Howe et al. (2013).
In Experiments 2a and 2b, we extended the priming of
analogical reasoning based around an analytic mapping pro-
cess (as opposed to simple semantic associations) by develop-
ing a new type of analogical reasoning task called a homonym
analogy task. In this task, we used homonyms, which are
words that are pronounced the same but have very different
contextual meanings (e.g., words such as score). In this way
we could ensure that analogies were more likely to be solved
Mem Cogn (2015) 43:879–895 881
using analytic mapping of the relational term and not just
spreading activation among semantic associations.
Experiment 1
In Experiment 1, we investigated false memory priming of
verbal proportional analogies using a set of normed analogical
reasoning problems in which we limited the cumulative BAS
of the terms provided in the analogical problem.
Method
Participants
The participants were twenty-five 18-year-old undergraduate
students who were fluent in English. Recruitment took place
via a participant recruitment system, and each participant re-
ceived £3.50 for 30 minutes of participation time. Written
informed consent was obtained from each participant prior
to taking part in the experiment, and participants were
debriefed following their participation.
Design and materials
A within-participant design was employed consisting of one
factor with two levels (Priming: Unprimed or
False
Memory
Priming). The experiment was programmed using Psyscript
(an experimental generator) and run by an Apple Macintosh
computer. Eight normed proportional analogical reasoning
problems (of the format a is to b as c is to d) were used in this
experiment (see Table 1). These analogies were a subset se-
lected from a previous norming study (Howe, Threadgold,
Garner, Bland, & Ball, 2015) in which we asked 50 partici-
pants to generate the answers to 50 newly created proportional
analogies, with a maximum of 60 seconds being given for the
generation of an answer to each problem, after which the
correct solution was displayed. Analogies were selected for
the present experiment if their normed solution rate fell be-
tween 20 % and 80 %, and if the strength of the BAS of the
associated DRM list allowed for the attainment of effective
experimental controls, as discussed below.
The subset of eight analogical reasoning problems that
were selected (see Table 1) had normed solution rates in the
range of 34 % to 76 %. These eight problems were divided
into two groups of four analogies, with the presentation of
these groups being counterbalanced across participants in the
experiment in terms of whether they were unprimed or primed
by the prior presentation of a DRM list. The four analogies in
each group were equated on the BAS of the DRM list items
and on their normed solution rates (Group 1 analogies—earth,
lion, stone, iron: Mean DRM BAS = .20, Mean Solution Rate
= 61.5 %; Group 2 analogies – allow, spider, needle, hair:
Mean DRM BAS = .14, Mean Solution Rate = 53.5 %).
Because BAS is a widely used measure of the strength of a
DRM list in producing false memories, it is important to con-
trol for Mean DRM BAS level across conditions (e.g.
Roediger, Watson, McDermott, & Gallo, 2001).
Furthermore, to provide an indication of the semantic
strength of the analogy the BAS of the a to d, b to d, and c
to d relationships (e.g., the likelihood of producing the solu-
tion d when asked to provide a semantic associate of a, b, and
c) were totaled, providing a cumulative BAS score for each
analogical problem. All BAS values were selected from the
normed associates presented by Nelson, McEvoy, and
Schreiber (1998). There was no significant difference
in the cumulative BAS for the a to d, b to d, and c
to d relationships between each group of four analogies
(Cumulative BAS: Group 1 = .06, Group 2 = .17, p >
.05). All eight analogies had a zero BAS score for the a
to d and b to d relationships. Three analogies (those
with the solutions iron, hair, and needle) had an above
zero, but still very low, c to d BAS score (.06, .14, and
.03, respectively). Overall, then, there was a very low
likelihood of the a and b cue words in any of the
analogies producing solution words by spreading activa-
tion alone.
For each analogical reasoning problem there was a linked
DRM list consisting of 12 associated words where the critical
lure was also the solution to the problem (see Appendix A for
DRM lists and BAS scores for each list). DRM lists contain-
ing 12 associate terms were used. The use of 12 associates is
consistent with early applications of the DRM paradigm
(Deese, 1959) and has been frequently shown to induce false
recall of the critical lure (Roediger & McDermott, 1995). The
DRM lists were either selected from standard sources (e.g.,
Roediger et al., 2001) or were constructed based on the
normed associates presented by Nelson et al. (1998). Words
on the DRM lists did not appear as part of the analogical
reasoning problems.
Table 1 Mean solution rates and times (with standard deviations in
parenthesis) for the normed proportional analogies used in Experiment 1
Analogy with solution Mean Solution
rate
Mean solution
time (s)
peace : dove :: courage : lion 0.76 (.43) 4.56 (3.35)
prevent : restrict :: enable : allow 0.74 (.44) 6.02 (3.71)
car : roundabout :: moon : earth 0.62 (.49) 5.99 (3.25)
four : cat :: eight : spider 0.60 (.49) 5.45 (4.10)
egg : yolk :: plum : stone 0.56 (.50) 4.57 (2.32)
wash : clean :: press : iron 0.52 (.51) 7.08 (4.62)
leopard : spots :: chest : hair 0.46 (.50) 9.31 (6.45)
watch : cog :: compass : needle 0.34 .(47) 5.11 (2.43)
882 Mem Cogn (2015) 43:879–895
Procedure
Participants were informed that they would be completing two
distinct tasks: a memory task and problem-solving task.
Therefore, it was never explicitly stated to participants that
the word lists were linked to the analogical reasoning prob-
lems in any way, or that the memory task could be used to help
solve the analogical reasoning problems.1 Participants initially
listened to four DRM lists played to them through headphones
via a computer. DRM items were presented at the rate of one
word every two seconds. Lists were played individually and in
a random order for each participant, but the order of the items
in the list remained constant for each participant. Following
presentation of a list there was a brief filler task (consisting of
two simple arithmetic calculations on screen) before partici-
pants were asked to write down as many words as they could
remember on a piece of paper, provided. Participants were not
given a time limit to recall these words and were merely
instructed to proceed when they had recalled as many words
as they could from the given list. Following the completion of
all four DRM lists, participants were asked to turn their paper
over so they could not see their recall answers before
attempting to solve eight analogical problems, presented one
at a time to them on the computer screen.
Presentation of the eight analogical problems was random-
ized for each participant. Analogical problems were presented
in the format ‘a is to b as c is to _____’ in the center of the
computer screen. Participants were required to click a button
as soon as they had their final answer to an analogy, and they
then needed to type their answer into the space provided on
screen. The timer began as soon as participants viewed the
analogy on screen and ended once participants had clicked
the button signaling that they had their final answer.
Participants received a maximum of 60 seconds to generate
each answer, after which the correct answer was displayed. On
providing their answer to each analogy, participants viewed
the complete analogy with the correct answer on screen.
Participants completed eight analogies in total, four of which
had been primed by the associated DRM list and four of which
were unprimed.
Results
The mean analogy solution rate (proportion) and the mean
analogy solution time (seconds) were calculated for each par-
ticipant and analyzed in separate ANOVAs. For the primed
analogical reasoning problems, solution rates and times were
further conditionalized according to whether a false memory
had been produced during recall of the DRM list relevant to
that analogy. Conditionalizing primed performance in this
manner has been widely used in previous research investigat-
ing the priming capacity of false memories (e.g., Howe et al.,
2010b, 2013). Despite the reduction in items per cell when
responses are conditionalized (although there was still suffi-
cient power to detect differences should they exist as the ma-
jority of participants, over 65 %, contributed data to all three
cells), it is imperative that this distinction is made because
previous research has consistently shown that priming is only
effective when the false memory is actually produced at on a
memory test. Therefore, there were three levels of priming for
the analyses that we report below: unprimed vs. false memory
primed with no false recall vs. false memory primed with false
recall. The mean false memory proportion was .26 (SD = .13)
with the majority of participants (84 %) having one or more
false memories.
Solution rates
There was a significant main effect of priming for solution
rates, F(2, 24) = 6.17, p < .05, η2p = .34. As can be seen in
Fig. 1, and which was confirmed using post hoc pairwise
comparisons, solution rates were significantly higher in the
false memory priming condition when a false memory had
been produced at recall (M = .94, SE = .04) compared to either
false memory priming where no false memory was produced
(M = .60, SE = .02, p < .05) or the unprimed condition (M =
.62, SE = .06, p .05).
Solution times
Like the solution rate data, there was a significant main effect
of priming for solution times, F(2, 20) = 4.72, p < .05, η2p =
.32. As can be seen in Fig. 2, and which was confirmed using
post hoc pairwise comparisons, solution times were signifi-
cantly faster in the false memory priming condition when a
false memory had been produced (M = 3.79 s, SE = .43)
1 In fact, when participants were later asked during debriefing whether
they thought the two tasks were in any way related, over 95 % say that
they did not believe that the two tasks were connected.
0
0.
2
0.
4
0.
6
0.
8
1
Unprimed Primed No
False Memory
Primed False
Memory
M
ea
n
P
ro
p
o
rt
i
o
n
S
o
lu
ti
o
n
R
at
e
Priming Condition
Fig. 1 Mean proportion of solution rates (with standard errors) as a
function of priming condition
Mem Cogn (2015) 43:879–895 883
compared to either the false memory priming with no false
memory (M = 9.05 s, SE = 1.51, p < .05) or the unprimed
conditions (M = 10.54 s, SE = 2.77, p .05).
Discussion
The results of Experiment 1 are unique inasmuch as they show
that having a false memory is critical for the priming of ana-
logical reasoning that requires a relational mapping process to
arrive at a solution. That is, only when participants recalled the
critical lure did false memories prime the solutions to verbal
proportional analogies. When participants failed to recall the
critical lure, performance (solution rates and solution times)
on analogical reasoning problems was no better than when
solutions had not been primed. Thus, we can conclude that
the production of the critical lure is imperative for the success
of a false memory priming effect in analogical reasoning.
These findings also provide an important and unique dem-
onstration of the benefit of false memories, one that extends
our knowledge of their ability to prime performance not just
on related memory tasks but on more complex problem-
solving tasks as well. Although previous research has been
influential in establishing evidence for the ability of false
memories to prime the solutions to insight problems (e.g.,
Howe et al., 2010b, 2011), this is the first experiment to ex-
tend these findings to more complex analogical reasoning
tasks, ones that require a process of analogical mapping, and
that cannot be solved solely by activating simple spreading
activation among semantic associations (as was the case in
Howe et al., 2013).
Making this distinction is particularly important for theo-
ries of analogical reasoning, where a debate exists concerning
the mechanisms by which proportional analogies are solved.
Here, some researchers argue that analogies are solved by a
process of semantic association and not by using analogical
mapping. The results of the present experiment suggest that
when one limits the availability of semantic associations be-
tween the analogy terms and the solution, it is still possible
both to solve these analogies (60 % of the time) and, impor-
tantly, to prime these solutions using false memories.
Experiment 2a
Experiment 1 utilized a set of normed verbal proportional
analogies in which we limited the likelihood of the target
solution being arrived at using spreading activation through
semantic associates. However, despite this control, one could
argue that this association, rather than being removed, was
simply more remote than in the analogies used previously by
Howe at al. (2013). That is, the analogies presented in
Experiment 1 might still have been solved via spreading acti-
vation, albeit requiring the activation of more distant or weak-
er associations (for how such a process might work, see
Nelson, Kitto, Galea, McEvoy, & Bruza, 2013; Nelson,
McEvoy, & Pointer, 2003).
If semantic association did still play a role in solving ana-
logical reasoning problems in Experiment 1, what would hap-
pen if we were to remove the influence of associations by
ensuring that the proportional analogy could only be solved
via an analytic mapping process? Moreover, what would hap-
pen if analogical problem solving purposefully required par-
ticipants to inhibit any semantic associations that may be ap-
parent within the proportional analogy?
In order to examine these questions, we developed a task
that not only removed the use of semantic association as a
solution strategy but also required the inhibition of dominant
semantic associations within the analogy problem in order
obtain the solution using an analytic mapping process. We
did this by creating a new type of verbal proportional analogy
termed a homonym analogy. Homonym analogies take the
standard form of a verbal proportional analogy, that is, a is
to b as c is to d. For example, ‘fur is to bear as bark is to tree.’
However, these analogies differ in a number of important
ways to the standard verbal proportional analogies used in
Experiment 1.
To see how these homonym analogies work, consider the
following example: fur is to bear, as bark is to: __? Rather
than have participants solve these analogies in the usual man-
ner, we gave participants four multiple-choice options, in this
case, branch, dog, meow, and tree (see Table 2). In this exam-
ple, the a and b terms, fur and bear, create a context related to
the category of animals, making one likely to use this context
when interpreting the ambiguous homonym c term, bark. If
participants are biased by this context, they will interpret the c-
term bark in terms of an animal (the noise a dog makes) and
select the answer dog. In the multiple-choice options, we in-
cluded two incorrect but contextually relevant associates (one
0
2
4
6
8
10
12
14
Unprimed Primed No False
Memory
Primed False
Memory
M
ea
n
S
o
lu
ti
o
n
T
im
es
(
s)
Priming Condition
Fig. 2 Mean solution times (seconds) with standard errors as a function
of priming condition
884 Mem Cogn (2015) 43:879–895
high associate and one low associate: dog and meow, respec-
tively) to determine whether participants are biased towards
using semantic associations rather than relational mapping to
solve these problems. Alternatively, when given the multiple-
choice options, if one reasons correctly that fur is the outside
of a bear, one will apply this relation analytically to the c term,
the homonym bark, and correctly reason the solution that bark
is the outside of a tree. A further associate of this correct
context is also provided, other than the correct answer, which
in this example is the word branch. If participants incorrectly
select this solution word during the task it would suggest that
although they are able to inhibit the incorrect meaning of the
homonym (or even interpret the homonym with the required
meaning to solve the problem, without any consideration of
the a and b terms) they might still reason incorrectly.
In summary, there are a number of critical differences be-
tween standard proportional analogies and our newly created
homonym analogies. The first important difference is that the
c term used in these new analogies is a homonym, that is, a
term that can have multiple meanings in different contexts and
which is therefore ambiguous in nature. Second, the a and b
terms in a given homonym analogy set a context related to one
of the meanings of the c term, specifically, a context that is not
related to the solution to the analogy. Third, the d term used to
solve the analogy requires participants to inhibit the context
created by the a and b terms and to access the alternative
meaning of the c term in order to achieve the solution.
A final difference is that participants are asked to select the
analogy solution from among four multiple-choice options.
This is a deviation from the methodology employed in
Experiment 1, in which participants were asked to generate
the d term response to standard verbal proportional analogies.
A multiple-choice response paradigm was adopted with the
homonym analogies so that it was possible to analyze specific
types of errors provided to these problems by participants. The
options consisted of the correct solution and three incorrect
choices that were carefully selected to fall into one of three
categories: (1) a correct context associate – a term that is
semantically related to the correct solution, which also re-
quires participants to access the correct meaning of the hom-
onym; (2) an incorrect context high associate – a term that is
highly semantically associated to the homonymwhen taken in
the context of the a and b terms of the analogy, but which is
incorrect when one achieves an effective relational mapping
from the a and b terms to the c term; and (3) an incorrect
context low associate – a term that is a low semantic associate
of the homonym when taken in the context of the a and b
terms of the analogy, but which is again incorrect when one
achieves an effective relational mapping from the a and b
terms to the c term.
When constructing the multiple choice items from which
participants selected their final answer, written word frequen-
cy was controlled using the Kucera-Francis written word fre-
quency scores obtained from the MRC Psycholinguistic
Database (Coltheart, 1981). A highest word frequency item
from the four that were presented occurred as a critical item
and the incorrect context high associate on three instances, and
as a correct context associate and incorrect context low asso-
ciate on two instances each. Therefore, any multiple choice
answer type (see Table 2 for examples) was not likely to be
consistently selected based on dominant written-word fre-
quency alone.
Given the multiple contextual interpretations of homonym
terms, it is important to consider the dominance of any single
homonym context in comparison to its counterpart meanings.
To do this, we consulted Twilley, Dixon, Taylor, and Clark’s
(1994) frequency norms for the different meanings of our
critical homonym c terms. Drawing on the previously utilized
analogy example with the homonym bark, Twilley et al.
(1994) noted the primary context is in terms of dog and sec-
ondarily in terms of tree. Therefore, the overall analogy is
consistent with the dominant homonym context (animals or
dog), while the correct answer context (bark in terms of the
outer lining of a tree) is consistent with the second dominant
meaning of the homonym. We consider the effects of hom-
onym dominance in terms of responses to homonym analogies
with Experiment 2a. In Experiment 2a, we collected norms for
these new types of problems by having participants solve a set
of homonym analogies.
Method
Participants
Fifty-six participants (9males; 47 females) aged 16 to 18 years
old took part in this experiment. All participants aged 18 and
over provided written informed consent prior to the experi-
ment, and for those aged 16 or 17 years, parental consent was
sought prior to participation. At the end of the experiment, all
participants were fully debriefed about the purpose of the
experiment.
Design
A within-participant design was used, with each participant
completing a selection of three out of nine homonym
Table 2 Multiple choice answers for the homonym analogy ‘fur is to
bear, as bark is to tree.’
Multiple choice answers Example item
Correct answer Tree
Correct context associate Branch
Incorrect context high associate Dog
Incorrect context low associate Meow
Mem Cogn (2015) 43:879–895 885
analogies. The order of analogies was randomized. Because
the answer to the homonym analogy is the opposite context to
that presented in the analogy, this may have become apparent
to participants after solving a number of them. Participants
were therefore asked to complete three out of nine analogies
in order to prevent practice effects at solving these problems.
This issue was addressed in Experiment 2b by the introduction
of non-homonym analogies similar to those used in
Experiment 1, which served as distractor problems.
Materials and procedure
The analogical reasoning problems utilized in this experiment
were the newly formed homonym analogies. Nine such anal-
ogies were created (see Appendix B). For each analogical
reasoning problem participants were provided with four pos-
sible answers to choose from. One of these was the correct
solution, and then there were also three possible foils: a correct
context associate, an incorrect context high associate, and an
incorrect context low associate.
The procedure was identical to the problem-solving com-
ponent in Experiment 1, with the exception that participants
completed three of nine homonym analogies. Furthermore,
participants were asked to choose an answer from one of four
provided. These options were displayed directly underneath
the analogy and labeled a to d. The position of the correct
answer in terms of a to d was randomized.
Results
The percentage of participants solving each homonym analo-
gy within the time limit was calculated along with mean solu-
tion times. Overall, solution rates for homonym analogies
were at .68 (SD = .26) and solution times averaged 10.54 s
(SD = 6.07). Table 3 shows the proportion correct per analogy.
In addition to solution times and rates, we were interested in
the types of errors participants made on these new homonym
analogies. In particular, we were interested in which of three
incorrect choices participants made when they were unable to
solve the analogy correctly and how quickly they made these
errors. Errors were categorized into one of three possible types
for each analogy based on their selection on the multiple-
choice portion of the task. Errors were defined as correct con-
text associate errors, incorrect context high associate errors, or
incorrect context low associate errors (see Table 4).
A one-way ANOVA for error type (correct context
associate vs. incorrect context high associate vs. incorrect
context low associate) was conducted on the proportion of
each error selected for the analogies. A significant main
effect was found, with post hoc pairwise comparisons
revealing that significantly more incorrect context high
associate errors were made (M = .5, SD = .48) than correct
context associate errors (M = .14, SD = .33) or incorrect
context low associate errors (M = .11, SD = .29), with the
latter two not differing significantly from one another,
F(2,110) = 14.62, p < .01, η2p = .28.
For solution times, we examined whether participants
differed between correctly and incorrectly solved analo-
gies. A paired t test revealed that solution times for correct
answers (M = 10.30s, SD = 5.02) were significantly faster
than solution times for errors (M = 15.00s, SD = 10.27),
t(41) = -3.25, p < .01.
Given that the homonyms used in the c position of the
analogy all have at least two (and sometimes three or four)
contextual meanings, it is important to consider whether the
ordinarily dominant context (regardless of the contextual in-
terpretation of the a and b terms in the analogy) influences the
types of answers selected, whether correct or incorrect. Using
the Twilley et al. (1994) norms, we obtained dominance rat-
ings for the context of each homonym (c term) in terms of
whether the incorrect analogy context afforded by the a to b
terms was consistent with the normally dominant
Table 3 Proportion correct (standard deviations in parenthesis) for each
homonym analogy
Analogy (solution) Proportion correct
run : legs :: stitch : needle .79 (.42)
table : surgery :: organ : music .36 (.49)
roar : lion :: horn : car .79 (.42)
weapon : gun :: bug : spider .88 (.32)
vowel : letter :: capital : city .83 (.39)
engrave : wood :: log : book .41 (.51)
alive : dead :: wake : sleep .95 (.22)
February : month :: date : fruit .50 (.51)
starve : eat :: fast : slow .60 (.50)
Table 4 Proportion of errors (standard deviations in parenthesis) for
each homonym analogy by error type
Analogy (solution)
Correct
context
associate
Incorrect
context high
associate
Incorrect
context low
associate
run : legs :: stitch : needle .36 (.49) .41 (.50) .24 (.43)
table : surgery :: organ :music .13 (.34) .70 (.46) .17 (.37)
roar : lion :: horn : car 0 1 (0) 0
weapon : gun :: bug : spider .41 (.50) .53 (.51) .06 (.24)
vowel : letter :: capital : city .09 (.30) .81 (.40) .09 (.30)
engrave : wood :: log : book .15 (.39) .73 (.45) .12 (36)
alive : dead :: wake : sleep 0 .1 (.57) 0
February : month :: date : fruit 0 .87 (.33) .12 (.33)
starve : eat :: fast : slow .52 (.51) .24 (.44) .24 (.44)
886 Mem Cogn (2015) 43:879–895
interpretation of the homonym, or whether the analogy answer
(i.e., the correct context) was consistent with the dominant
interpretation. Taking the analogies presented in Table 3, for
six of the nine analogies the context of the correct answer was
also the dominant context of the homonym (analogy solu-
tions—spider, slow, needle, city, car, sleep), whereas for the
remaining three analogies (analogy solutions—fruit, music,
book) the incorrect analogy context established by the a and
b terms was the dominant context (or a more dominant con-
text) than the answer context of the homonym. It was not
possible to have an even division of homonym analogies in
which the correct or incorrect context was the dominant con-
text of the homonym due to the constraints of material design
to obtain accurate homonym analogies with appropriate DRM
lists. As such, it was decided that the majority of analogies
should be within the category where the dominant context was
the answer context.
Given this, the question arises as to whether it is easier to
access the analogy solution when the required context for the
answer is also known to be the most dominant context of the
homonym (as determined by norms established by Twilley
et al., 1994). Although we cannot directly compare across
responses because participants completed three of the nine
analogies, it is possible to provide mean solution rates and
times for the analogies. The mean solution rates and times
indicated that when the answer to the analogy was consistent
with the dominant context of the homonym, participants
seemed to access the answer more readily (M = 10.52 s),
and with greater accuracy (M = .81) in comparison to when
the context established by the a and b analogy terms was more
dominant (M = 12.43 s, M = .43, respectively). This suggests
that homonym dominance might make the answer easier to
access, and the a, b, and c terms of the analogy somewhat
easier to inhibit, if the answer is consistent with the dominant
homonym interpretation.
If we take the correct context errors and incorrect context
high associate errors and look at these in terms of homonym
dominance, it would seem as if participants made, on average,
more incorrect context high associate errors when this incor-
rect context was the dominant context of the homonym (M =
.71) in comparison to when the answer or correct context was
dominant (M = .63). If we look at the correct context associate
errors, participants make more of these particular errors when
the answer context (correct context) was dominant (M = .16)
than when the context established by the a and b analogy
terms (incorrect context) was dominant (M = .08). Of course,
these effects have to be interpreted with caution, given the
overall low rate of correct context response errors overall
compared to incorrect context high associate errors, regardless
of homonym dominance. However, the fact remains that hom-
onym dominance can have an influence on response errors
inasmuch as errors tend to be consistent with the dominant
interpretation of the homonym.
Discussion
The results of Experiment 2a provide evidence that errors
made while solving homonym analogies are through a bias
towards selecting the highest semantic associate to the c term
in the analogy, even when this item is incorrect. When a hom-
onym analogy was solved incorrectly, participants were sig-
nificantly more likely to have selected the highest semantic
associate of the incorrect context (i.e., the semantic associate
of c interpreting the homonym in the context set by the a and b
terms of the analogy), rather than a lower associate of the
incorrect context, or a semantic associate of the correct
context.
The tendency toward selecting the highest semantic asso-
ciate of the c term (in the context established by the a and b
items) during an error response, suggests a bias towards
selecting a high semantic associate of c, even when this item
is not the correct one when solved by an analytic process of
relational mapping. The propensity to be drawn toward solv-
ing verbal proportional analogies by semantic association is
well established, particularly in terms of how children solve
these analogies (Sternberg & Nigro, 1980; see also Ball et al.,
2010; Cheshire et al., 2007; Siegler & Svetina, 2002).
However, it is widely believed that adults utilize a more so-
phisticated process of relational mapping to arrive at the cor-
rect answer (Green et al., 2006). In contrast, what the current
analysis of the errors made during the solving of homonym
analogies suggests is that adults are also drawn to a high se-
mantic associate of the c termwhen solving verbal proportion-
al analogies. One possibility is that those making errors use
semantic association as a heuristic to aid in selecting the solu-
tion, rather than identifying the relationship between the initial
two analogy terms, and applying this to the latter part of the
analogy. In other words, people may be defaulting to the use
of semantic association rather than reasoning by means of an
analytic mapping process based on the relation that exists
between the a and b terms within the analogy. If this is the
case, we would expect that participants who are drawn to-
wards making an incorrect context high or low associate error
would also solve analogies faster than those who solve the
analogies correctly.
Previous standard forms of analogical reasoning problems
have rendered it difficult, if not impossible, to distinguish
between the correct solution strategy of relational mapping
(Green et al., 2006) versus the potentially incorrect method
of solving by semantic association. This is because typical
verbal analogical problems are often confounded by the fact
that the c and d terms not only have a relational link but are
also often highly semantically associated (Howe et al., 2013).
For example, in the problem ‘pyramid is to cube as triangle is
to square,’ triangle and square are highly semantically associ-
ated, and participants might be likely to generate square in the
absence of analogical reasoning. The use of our newly
Mem Cogn (2015) 43:879–895 887
designed homonym analogies demonstrates that the applica-
tion of this heuristic by adults can lead participants to arrive at
an incorrect solution. Indeed, the current findings suggest that
the context of the analogy is important in participants’ overall
decision when selecting a solution, such that participants are
often drawn towards an incorrect answer that fits with the
context of the homonym established by the a and b terms,
rather than the alternate context established by the c term.
Thus, the overall context and the relation to the semantic as-
sociation of cmight be important in solving typical analogies.
Furthermore, responses to homonym analogies can be in-
fluenced by the dominant context of the homonym term.
However, even when the dominant context is the correct
answer, it can be difficult to overcome the context set
by the analogy terms. Homonym dominance can lead to
errors consistent with the dominant interpretation of the
homonym. For the majority (six out of the nine) of the
homonym analogies presented in Experiment 2a, the
dominant context was the answer context (e.g., the ‘cor-
rect context’), yet participants were still drawn to mak-
ing incorrect context associate errors when solving hom-
onym analogies (and were biased by the context provid-
ed in the analogy terms), even when this was not the
dominant context of that homonym. Despite the fact that
these analogy problems seem to be solved more accu-
rately when the analogy solution context was the dom-
inant interpretation, it still did not prevent participants
from making incorrect context response errors. That is,
participants’ responses may be biased by the incorrect
context established by the a and b terms of the analogy
even when this context is a less dominant than the
correct context. Given that accuracy rates for the anal-
ogies in which the correct context is dominant were far
from ceiling, and that there were significantly more in-
correct context errors in the set of analogies where this
incorrect context was not a dominant interpretation,
homonym dominance does not entirely determine re-
sponse selection. Indeed, participants were mainly influ-
enced by the context of the a and b analogy terms
when interpreting the c term and not simply relying
on their existing knowledge base of homonym context
interpretations.
The use of homonym analogies demonstrates that errors are
made when participants have a bias to generate the solution
term in the context of the a and b components of the analogy
such that they then search for a similar semantic associate of c.
The correct solution to a homonym analogy—one that in-
volves the a–b relation—necessitates inhibition of not only
the context provided by the a and b terms, but also of the
highest semantic associate of c to this context. Research has
demonstrated that young children often struggle with inhibi-
tory control in analogy problems (e.g., Richland, Morrison, &
Holyoak, 2006). Experiment 2a provided evidence that errors
made by adult participants in analogical reasoning with hom-
onym problems can also arise from difficulty in inhibiting the
context of the analogy and the automatic spreading activation
to semantic associates of c to this context.
Experiment 2b
The aim of Experiment 2b was to ascertain if false memory
priming can help adults overcome the bias observed in
Experiment 2a, whereby they tend to generate the solution to
a proportional analogy by searching for a semantic associate
of c in the context established by the a and b terms of the
analogy. Generating a false memory at recall would be expect-
ed to make this item more salient in memory, thereby priming
the availability of this item as a solution term during subse-
quent analogical reasoning. We therefore expected that false
memory priming would benefit participants in that they would
be able to inhibit the tendency to use the heuristic in the anal-
ogy that leads to the incorrect answer, that is, simply generat-
ing a high semantic associate of c in terms of the (incorrect)
context that is established by the a and b terms of the analogy.
Method
Participants
A total of 46 females aged 18 years participated in the exper-
iment. Each participant provided written informed consent
prior to taking part in the experiment, and participants were
fully debriefed at the end. All participants were fluent in
English.
Design and materials
We employed a within-participant design similar to
Experiment 1. This consisted of one factor with two levels
(Priming: Unprimed or False Memory Primed). The experi-
ment was programmed using Psyscript and played by an
Apple Macintosh computer. Thirteen analogies were used in
this experiment (see Appendix C). Of the 13 problems, 10
critical analogies were designed such that the c term within
the analogy was a homonym term (e.g., bark as ‘the noise a
dog makes’ or, consistent with the a is to b relation in the
analogy, bark as ‘the outer lining of a tree’). The other three
analogical problems were included to form distractor items.
Three distractor items were included in the set of solved ana-
logical problems to ensure that participants did not identify a
consistent pattern within the homonym analogies such that the
answer was always the opposite context to the terms presented
within the analogy. One of these three was also a homonym
analogy, while the remaining analogies were non-homonym
analogies similar to those used in Experiment 1 (see Appendix
888 Mem Cogn (2015) 43:879–895
A). The 10 critical analogical problems (see Appendix C)
were divided into two groups equated on the BAS of the
DRM list items associated with each analogy problem
(Group 1: Mean BAS = .33, Group 2: Mean BAS = .24). In
Group 1, four out of five analogies had the dominant interpre-
tation of the homonym as the correct context; in Group 2, this
was three out of five analogies.
For each analogical problem, participants were presented
with a choice of four items from which to select their answer.
Only one of these answers was the correct answer. For the 10
critical analogies, the three alternative responses were com-
posed of an associate of the correct answer and two associates
of an incorrect context answer.
For each analogical problem there was a linked DRM list
consisting of 12 associated words where the critical lure was
the problem solution (refer to Appendix C for the DRM lists
and the associated BAS scores). DRM-list words that overlap-
ped with the items presented in the analogical problems were
removed so that DRM items were not presented as part of any
subsequent analogy items. The single exception to this was the
word fast, which was integral to the DRM list slow and was
therefore left in the list. DRM lists were selected such that they
only primed one context (refer to Appendix C for DRM lists).
Presentation of the materials was counterbalanced such that
each analogy group served in the unprimed and primed
conditions.
Procedure
The procedure was identical to that of Experiment 1 except
that participants completed 13 analogies rather than eight.
Furthermore, participants were asked to choose an answer
from one of four provided. These options were displayed di-
rectly beneath the analogy, and were labeled a to d. The posi-
tion of the correct answer was randomized across participants.
Results
The mean analogy solution rate (proportion) and the mean
analogy solution time (seconds) were calculated for each par-
ticipant. Solution rates and times were analyzed separately in
two analyses of variance (ANOVAs). For the primed analogy
problems, solut ion rates and t imes were fur ther
conditionalized according to whether the participant produced
the critical lure item (i.e., primed and produced a false mem-
ory) or did not (i.e., primed but did not produce a false mem-
ory). Therefore, like Experiment 1, for the purposes of the
analyses there were three priming conditions (i.e. unprimed
vs. primed with no false memory vs. primed with false mem-
ory recalled). Like Experiment 1, the majority of participants
(over 75 %) contributed data to all three cells. The mean false
memory proportion was .34 (SD = .21), with the majority of
participants (78 %) having one or more false memories.
Solution rates
There was a significant main effect of priming on solution
rates, F(2, 58) = 10.3, p < .001, η2p = .26. As can be seen in
Fig. 3, and which was confirmed using post hoc pairwise
comparisons, solution rates were significantly higher in the
false memory condition when a critical lure had been pro-
duced (M = .89, SE = .05) in comparison to either false mem-
ory priming where no critical lure was produced during recall
(M = .69, SE = .04, p < .05) or the unprimed condition (M =
.62, SE = .05, p .05). Figure 3 displays
solution rates for each condition.2
Solution times
There was no significant main effect of priming on solution
times, F(2, 56) = .659, p > .05. Analogical problem solutions
were solved equally fast when unprimed (M = 11.31 s, SE =
1.03), primed with no false memory (M = 11.87 s, SE = .94),
or primed with false recall of the critical lure (M = 10.56 s, SE
= 10.57). However, Mauchly’s test revealed that the assump-
tion of sphericity had been violated for the solution time data
(p = .02), indicating that there was considerable variability
across participants in solution times. Furthermore, examina-
tion of a histogram suggested that the solution time data were
bimodally distributed, in that there were two groups of solu-
tion times, reflecting participants who were fast solvers and
participants who were slow solvers.
Because of the bimodal distribution, we decided to exam-
ine solution times separately for fast solvers and slow solvers
by splitting participants on the basis of their mean solution
times for unprimed analogies. This method of splitting
solution time data into two groups of fast and slow solvers is
consistent with that described by Garner and Howe (2014)
when analyzing solution times for CRAT problems. In what
follows, we describe analyses that included the addition of
group (fast vs. slow solvers) as a post hoc between-
participants factor.
Comparing fast and slow problem solvers It should be noted
that a one-way ANOVA on solution rates revealed a margin-
ally significant difference between the fast and slow solvers,
F(1, 45) = 4.189, p =.047, where fast solvers were slightly less
accurate (M = .62) than slow solvers (M = .71) in their re-
sponses. This suggests that fast responding might generate a
speed accuracy trade-off. For the solution times, a 2 × 3 mixed
ANOVA (Group x Priming) was conducted with group as the
2 Solution rates were examined separately for only the analogies in which
the answer context corresponded with the dominant context of the hom-
onym. A repeated measures ANOVA revealed that there was no signifi-
cant main effect of priming on solution rates, F(2, 58) = 1.71, p > .05, for
these analogies.
Mem Cogn (2015) 43:879–895 889
between-participants factors with two levels (fast vs. slow
solvers) and the within-participant factor of priming with three
levels (unprimed vs. primed no false memory vs. primed with
false memory). Not unexpectedly, the results showed that
there was a significant main effect of group, F(1, 27) =
323.13, p .05, with problems being solved equally
quickly in the unprimed (M = 11.49 s, SE = .81), primed with
no false memory (M = 12.06 s, SE = .78), and primed with
false memory (M = 10.25 s, SE = 1.00). However, consistent
with our intuition (and Garner & Howe’s, 2014, previous
CRAT findings), there was a Group x Priming interaction,
F(2, 54) = 4.19, p <.05, η2p = .13 (see Fig. 4).3
To ascertain the source of the significant interaction we
employed simple main effects analyses using a Bonferroni
correction for multiple comparisons. There was a significant
difference between fast and slow solvers in the unprimed con-
dition (p < .001) such that fast solvers completed the unprimed
analogical problems significantly faster (M = 8.24 s, SE = .64)
than the slow solvers (M = 16.32 s, SE = 1.18). Fast solvers (M
= 9.64 s, SE = 1.01) also solved the problems significantly
faster than slow solvers (M = 15.52 s, SE = 1.28) when primed
with no false memory (p < .001). However, there was no
significant difference between fast solvers (M = 9.91 s, SE =
1.42) and slow solvers (M = 11.63 s, SE = 1.82) in the primed
with a false memory condition (p > .05). This indicates that for
participants who were primed and who produced a false mem-
ory at recall, the priming effect benefits the slow solvers (i.e.,
they were as fast as the fast solvers) perhaps because the fast
solvers are already at ceiling for solution times.
Discussion
The findings from Experiment 2b demonstrate that false
memory priming of homonym analogy problems leads
to significantly higher solution rates than when those
same problems are unprimed or are primed but no false
memories are generated at recall. Moreover, the results
of Experiments 2a and 2b show that when participants
make errors in solving homonym analogies they have a
tendency to opt for a high semantic associate of the
incorrect context (in other words, the context consistent
with the a and b analogy terms), but this context bias is
frequently overcome when priming is effective. These
findings provide evidence that priming may help partic-
ipants overcome a bias with selecting the high semantic
associate consistent with the analogy problem and may
also increase a participant’s ability to inhibit the context
set by the a and b terms when interpreting the hom-
onym. From Experiment 2b it seems that falsely
recalling a non-presented critical item is linked to a
more efficient ability to inhibit the incorrect context of
the analogy and to select the correct context item in
analogical reasoning. This is consistent with the idea
that false memory primes are particularly effective at
priming problem-solving tasks (more so than true
primes), such that they have the strength to enable in-
hibition of even a dominant context in problem solving.
The present findings also extend the efficacy of false
priming in terms of the time taken to solve analogical
reasoning problems. Previous research has demonstrated
Fig. 4 Mean solution times (s) with standard errors for fast and slow
solvers as a function of priming condition
3 It is important to note that it was not possible to conduct analyses to
determine if the type of priming (unprimed vs. primed no false memory
vs. primed false memory) influenced the type of errors (correct context
associate vs. incorrect context high associate vs. incorrect context low
associate) for fast and slow solvers because there were few instances
where participants were primed (and either produced or did not produce
a false memory) and did not produce a correct response to the correspond-
ing analogy item.
0
0.1
0.2
0.3
0.4
0.5
0.6
0.7
0.8
0.9
1
Unprimed Primed No
False Memory
Primed False
Memory
M
ea
n
S
o
lu
ti
o
n
R
at
e
Priming
Fig. 3 Mean proportion of solution rates (with standard errors) as a
function of priming condition
890 Mem Cogn (2015) 43:879–895
that false memory priming results in problems being
solved more quickly than those that are unprimed, but
these results are confined to analogies whose solutions
can be easily generated via spreading activation (Howe
et al., 2013). What the evidence here suggests is that
even for problems whose solutions may not be as easily
generated via spreading activation (at least to near asso-
ciates) their solutions can also be primed by false mem-
ories. Moreover, these results show that there are signif-
icant individual differences in participants’ solution
times such that a subset of participants complete ana-
logical reasoning problems with a speed that leaves lit-
tle room for any possible improvement provided by
priming (our fast solvers subset). Given that the mean
solution time for the fast solvers is approximately 8 sec-
onds, which includes reading the analogy as well as the
four response items, it is unlikely that the analogies
could be completed more rapidly than this, leaving little
room for priming effects. However, there is a subset of
participants (our slow solvers) where false memory
priming does improve solution times to levels compara-
ble to that of fast solvers, demonstrating the efficacy of
false memory priming in homonym analogy problems.
General discussion
Previous research has established that false memories
can have salutary effects (Howe, 2011; Schacter et al.,
2011). One positive effect concerns the ability of false
memories to prime solutions on problem-solving tasks
involving insight-based reasoning (i.e., CRATs; see
Howe et al., 2010b, 2011; Garner & Howe, 2014).
Indeed, false memories have proved to be more effec-
tive primes for CRAT solutions than true memories
when a delay (e.g., 1 week) has been imposed between
the time participants recall words from studied lists and
the time they are presented with CRAT problems (see
Howe et al., 2012). Previous research has also demon-
strated that simple verbal analogy problems can be
primed using false memories but not true ones (Howe
et al., 2013).
However, these findings have been restricted to con-
ditions in which priming effects may have occurred as a
result of simple spreading activation through local and
highly interconnected semantic associates. This is of
particular concern for studies examining analogical rea-
soning (Howe et al., 2013) because the problems used
there may not have required analogical reasoning per se.
That is, the problems could have been solved using
simple associations involving BAS from the a, b, and
c terms to the solution d term. This means that
participants would not have had to understand the a to
b relation in order to solve the problem.
The novel contribution of this series of experiments, ex-
tending our understanding of the adaptive consequences of
false memories, is that false memory priming occurs even in
the absence of obvious associative relations among items.
That is, the current experiments made it more difficult
to use only spreading activation through semantic asso-
ciations to solve analogical reasoning problems by elim-
inating BAS within the analogy (Experiment 1) or by
using homonym analogies (Experiments 2a and 2b). The
findings across these three experiments provide evidence
that false memories are effective primes for solutions on
analogical reasoning tasks even when those solutions
may not rely heavily (or perhaps at all) on spreading
activation through semantic associative networks. That
is, we have demonstrated for the first time that self-
generated false memories can and do prime solutions
to problem-solving tasks—verbal proportional analo-
gies—in which the BAS of the analogy terms was lim-
ited so that participants had to rely on reasoning using
the a to b relation to generate the c to d solution.
Furthermore, we have developed a novel set of anal-
ogies (termed homonym analogies) that require the inhi-
bition of semantic associates provided by the context of
the analogy in order to generate a logical (relational)
solution to the analogical reasoning problem. Although
existing knowledge based interpretation of homonyms
might influence responses to these analogies, responses
are primarily guided by interpreting the homonym in
terms of the context provided by the a, b, and c terms
of the analogy. False memory priming of the correct
solution facilitated participants’ analogical reasoning
not only in terms of solution rates but also in how
quickly solutions were achieved (at least for participants
who were not already at or near ceiling). Interestingly,
when participants make errors on these analogies they
do so with items that would have been generated via
spreading activation through semantic associates. Of
course, it is premature to conclude that adults’ (like
children’s) default analogical reasoning heuristic is a
search through associative networks, ones created by
the biasing context of the homonym analogy itself.
However, it is clear that false memory priming facili-
tates analogical reasoning either through the inhibition
of this initial biasing context or through refocusing the
search for a solution to networks related to the false
memory (or both).
Indeed, our findings do not rule out the idea that
adults may still use spreading activation through seman-
tic associative networks to solve analogical reasoning
problems. Although the two interpretations of the hom-
onym (one provided by the false memory that has been
Mem Cogn (2015) 43:879–895 891
generated and the other by the biasing context of the
analogy) may not be compatible inasmuch as they are
not ‘located’ in the same semantic neighborhoods, both
interpretations will be active in associative memory at
the same time. Of course, that two disparate interpreta-
tions of the same concept are active in memory at the
same time is not unheard of and in some circumstances
is fully anticipated (e.g., Brainerd, Wang, & Reyna,
2013; Nelson et al., 2003, 2013).
However, the question remains as to how adults rec-
oncile these two interpretations, inhibit the more recent
contextual bias from the analogy, and supplant it with
the solution from the older false memory context. One
likely possibility is that participants use the a to b re-
lation to search for an alternative interpretation that is
the solution to the analogy. Furthermore, it could be
that the increased activation of a concept, through a
process such as spreading activation, leads to increased
fluidity of the concept, enabling its use in solving hom-
onym analogies regardless of the context or interpreta-
tion. It is important to note that this increased activation
and accessibility is limited to situations in which the
critical lure is produced during recall; those circum-
stances in which the lure is not falsely recalled produce
no beneficial priming effect in standard or homonym
analogies. Critical lures that have been activated during
DRM list presentation are still above threshold activa-
tion levels and remain highly active in memory when
participants are solving the analogies, making them
more accessible as a solution. Therefore, when
performing a search for an alternative interpretation for
a homonym analogy, false memory priming works be-
cause this alternative interpretation of the homonym is
already active in memory, making this search process
less difficult. Critical lures that were activated but not
falsely recalled are thought to have either dropped be-
low the activation threshold required for priming after
being rejected or inhibited during test, or to have not
been activated sufficiently above the threshold required
for priming during study, thus reducing their accessibil-
ity when interpreting the meaning of a homonym
analogy.
Whether homonym analogies are solved by applying
the a to b relation to the c term to the generate d term
or by searching the two distant neighborhoods of se-
mantic associates that were recently activated for the
homonym (or, indeed, by some combination of both)
must await further research. However, the importance
of the current results is that regardless of whether adults
use semantic search, analytic mapping processes, or
both, false memories can have some very positive ef-
fects inasmuch as they provide a powerful priming
mechanism for solving problems.
These findings are not just important from a theoret-
ical perspective; they carry with them some interesting
everyday ramifications. This is because, as mentioned
earlier, false memories occur frequently in a number of
different contexts, both in and out of the laboratory (see
Brainerd & Reyna, 2012; Howe, 2013). Often, these
semantically activated false memories arise spontaneous-
ly and automatically, outside of the rememberer’s con-
scious awareness. In the world outside of the laboratory,
perhaps the best known consequences of these false
memories are those that have given rise to courtroom
allegations of offences that may never have occurred
(Howe, 2013; Schacter & Loftus, 2013). Indeed, as
shown in the current research, false memories can and
do serve as the basis for reasoning and decision making,
and arguably do so not just in the laboratory context
but in any number of everyday contexts. For example,
continuing with the forensic theme, it is not just com-
plainants’ false memories that can lead to decisions to
prosecute; jurors’ false memories can lead to potential
miscarriages of justice. Seminal work by Pennington
and Hastie (1986, 1990, 1991, 1992) has shown that
jurors activate story schemas based on their attempts
to understand and integrate trial evidence. These
schemas not only serve an organizing function but also
serve to bias additional pieces of evidence as the trial
proceeds. Worse, jurors can form false, schema-
consistent memories for Bfacts^ that are not actually in
evidence. Because jury deliberations involve reasoning
from such (biased) evidence, decision making as to a
complainant’s guilt or innocence will be influenced not
just by correct recollections of the evidence but also by
(false) memories of facts not in evidence, ones that
were semantically activated when the juror’s story sche-
ma was invoked.
The role of false memories in jury decision making is made
more ominous given that trials usually involve considerable
negative emotional content (e.g., sadness, anger, fear; see
Nuñez, Schweitzer, Chai, & Myers, in press). The evidence
reviewed earlier (e.g., Howe et al., 2010a) shows that negative
false memories not only persist over time but can also increase
over a retention interval (e.g., during the course of a trial). This
is thought to be due to negative information beingmore dense-
ly interrelated than other types of information (Talmi, Luk,
McGarry, & Moscovitch, 2007), which in turn makes spread-
ing activation more likely through such associative networks.
Indeed, previous laboratory-based research has shown that
negative false memories serve as better primes than neutral
false memories during an insight-based problem-solving ex-
ercise (e.g., Garner & Howe, 2014).
What these observations suggest is that because false mem-
ories can play a role in everyday cognition, including reason-
ing and decision making, there is a need to study their
892 Mem Cogn (2015) 43:879–895
influence, both in controlled laboratory conditions as well as
in more naturalistic settings. Indeed, studies have shown that
false memories not only serve as powerful primes in children’s
and adults’ reasoning tasks (e.g., Howe et al., 2011, 2013),
some of which are used to assess intelligence and creativity,
but they also play a key role in tasks frequently used to assess
more perceptual components of intelligence (e.g., perceptual
closure tasks; see Otgaar, Howe, van Beers, van Hoof, &
Bronzwaer, 2015). Understanding the pivotal role false mem-
ories play in remembering the past, interpreting the present,
and planning for the future (see Howe, 2011; Schacter et al.,
2011) is essential if we are to have a complete picture of the
importance of memory in everyday cognition.
Acknowledgments This research was supported by a project grant
from the Economic and Social Research Council, ESRC grant RES-
062-23-3327.
Appendix A
Experiment 1: Analogies and Associated DRM Lists
Group A Analogies and DRM Lists (with BAS)
wash : clean :: press : iron
car : roundabout :: moon : earth
peace : dove :: courage : lion
egg : yolk :: plum : stone
iron: ore, steel, metal, crease, starch, steam, wrinkle, rust,
copper, calcium, element, magnet (.10)
earth: planet, world, geology, ground, gravity, environment,
worm, heaven, sphere, globe, core, atmosphere (.15)
lion: tiger, circus, jungle, tamer, den, cub, Africa, mane, cage,
feline, roar, fierce (.16)
stone: pebble, rock, granite, kidney, sapphire, gem, brick,
statue, marble, gravel, stick, tomb (.14)
Group B Analogies and DRM Lists (with BAS)
leopard : spots :: chest : hair
four : cat :: eight : spider
watch : cog :: compass : needle
prevent : restrict :: enable : allow
hair: strand, brush, scalp, lice, conditioner, comb, shampoo,
headband, dandruff, mousse, bald, clippers (.31)
spider: web, insect, bug, fright, fly, arachnid, crawl, tarantula,
poison, bite, creepy, feelers (.19)
needle: thread, pink, eye, sewing, sharp, point, prick, thimble,
haystack, thorn, hurt, injection (.20)
allow: permit, let, permission, forbid, disallow, forbidden,
prohibit, accept, admit, ban, admission, deny (.10)
Appendix B
Appendix C
Experiment 2b Analogical Problems and DRM Lists
Group A Analogies (with multiple-choice A, B, and C errors,
respectively) and DRM Lists (with BAS)
weapon : gun :: bug : spider (phobia, spy, deception)
starve : eat :: fast : slow (still, food, snack)
February : month :: date : fruit (cocktail, schedule, calendar)
run : legs :: stitch : needle (cloth, exercise, pain)
engrave : wood :: log : book (story, tree, branch)
spider: web, insect, bug, fright, fly, arachnid, crawl, tarantula,
poison, bite, creepy, feelers (.19)
slow: fast, lethargic, stop, listless, snail, cautious, delay, traffic,
turtle, speed, wait, sluggish (.17)
fruit: apple, vegetable, orange, kiwi, citrus, ripe, pear, banana,
berry, cherry, basket, juice (.25)
needle: thread, pink, eye, sewing, sharp, point, prick, thimble,
haystack, thorn, hurt, injection (.20)
book: text, library, chapter, novel, publisher, author, literature,
reader, page, magazine, read, title. (.52)
Group B Analogies (with multiple-choice A, B, and C errors,
respectively) and DRM Lists (with BAS)
vowel : letter :: capital : city (address, alphabet, number)
arithmetic : calculator :: rule : king (castle, measure, depth)
table : surgery :: organ : music (piano, heart, donor)
Table 5 Analogies normed in Experiment 2a
Analogy (solution) MC foils
Correct
context
Incorrect
context high
associate
Incorrect
context low
associate
run : legs :: stitch : needle cloth exercise pain
table : surgery :: organ : music piano heart donor
roar : lion :: horn : car race rhino Africa
weapon : gun :: bug : spider phobia spy deception
vowel : letter :: capital : city address alphabet number
engrave : wood :: log : book story tree branch
alive : dead :: wake : sleep peace funeral grave
February : month :: date : fruit cocktail calendar schedule
starve : eat :: fast : slow still food snack
Note. MC = Multiple choice.
Mem Cogn (2015) 43:879–895 893
roar : lion :: horn : car (race, rhino, Africa)
alive : dead :: wake : sleep (peace, funeral, grave)
city: town, crowded, state, slum, streets, subway, country,
New York, village, metropolis, big, Chicago (.17)
king: queen, England, crown, prince, George, dictator, palace,
throne, chess, subjects, monarch (.25)
music: sound, harp, sing, radio, band, melody, stereo, concert,
instrument, symphony, jazz, rhythm. (.24)
car: truck, bus, train, automobile, vehicle, drive, jeep, Ford,
keys, garage, highway, van (.35)
sleep: rest, awake, bed, tired, dream, snooze, blanket, doze,
slumber, snore, nap, yawn, drowsy (.46)
Non-critical distractor analogies:
(non-homonym distractor) caterpillar : tadpole :: butterfly :
frog (cocoon, monarch, moth)
(non-homonym distractor) weep : sad :: laugh : happy (cheer,
joke, silly)
(homonym distractor) fur : bear :: bark : tree (leaf, orchard,
log)
Open Access This article is distributed under the terms of the Creative
Commons Attribution License which permits any use, distribution, and
reproduction in any medium, provided the original author(s) and the
source are credited.
References
Ball, L. J., Hoyle, A.M., & Towse, A. S. (2010). The facilitatory effect of
negative feedback on the emergence of analogical reasoning abili-
ties. British Journal of Developmental Psychology, 28, 583–602.
Bassok,M., &Holyoak, K. (1989). Interdomain transfer between isomor-
phic topics in algebra and physics. Journal of Experimental
Psychology: Learning, Memory, and Cognition, 15, 153–166.
Bjorklund, D. F. (2004).Children’s thinking: Development and individual
differences (4th ed.). Belmont, CA: Wadsworth/Thompson.
Brainerd, C. J., & Reyna, V. F. (2012). Reliability of children’s testimony
in an era of developmental reversals. Developmental Review, 32,
224–267.
Brainerd, C. J., Reyna, V. F., & Brandse, E. (1995). Are children’s false
memories more persistent than their true memories? Psychological
Science, 6, 359–364.
Brainerd, C. J., Wang, Z., & Reyna, V. F. (2013). Superposition of epi-
sodic memories: Overdistribution and quantum models. Topics in
Cognitive Science, 5, 773–799.
Cheshire, A., Muldoon, K. P., Francis, B., Lewis, C. N., & Ball, L. J.
(2007). Modelling change: New opportunities in the analysis of
microgenetic data. Infant and Child Development, 16, 119–134.
Coltheart, M. (1981). The MRC Psycholinguistic database. Quarterly
Journal of Experimental Psychology, 33A, 497–505.
Deese, J. (1959). Influence of interitem associative strength upon imme-
diate free recall. Psychological Reports, 5, 305–312.
Garner, S. R., & Howe, M. L. (2014). False memories from survival
processing make better primes for problem-solving. Memory, 22,
9–18.
Gentner, D., & Toupin, C. (1986). Systematicity and surface similarity in
the development of analogy. Cognitive Science, 10, 277–300.
Gick, M. L., & Holyoak, K. J. (1983). Schema induction and analogical
transfer. Cognitive Psychology, 15, 1–38.
Goswami, U. (2001). Analogical reasoning in children. In D. Gentner, K.
J. Holyoak, & B. N. Kokinov (Eds.), The analogical mind:
Perspectives from cognitive science (pp. 437–470). Cambridge,
MA: MIT Press.
Goswami, U., & Brown, A. L. (1989). Melting chocolate and melting
snowmen: Analogical reasoning and causal relations.Cognition, 35,
69–95.
Goswami, U., & Brown, A. L. (1990). Higher-order structure and rela-
tional reasoning: Contrasting analogical and thematic relations.
Cognition, 36, 207–226.
Green, A. E., Fugelsang, J. A., & Dunbar, K. N. (2006). Automatic
activation of categorical and abstract analogical relations in analog-
ical reasoning. Memory & Cognition, 34, 1414–1421.
Gulan, T., & Valerjev, P. (2010). Semantic and related types of priming as
a context in word recognition. Review of Psychology, 17, 53–58.
Holyoak, K. J. (2012). Analogy and relational reasoning. In K. J. Holyoak
& R. G. Morrison (Eds.), The Oxford handbook of thinking and
reasoning. Oxford, England: Oxford University Press.
Howe,M. L. (2005). Children (but not adults) can inhibit false memories.
Psychological Science, 16, 927–931.
Howe, M. L. (2011). The adaptive nature of memory and its illusions.
Current Directions in Psychological Science, 20, 312–315.
Howe, M. L. (2013). Memory development: Implications for adults
recalling childhood experiences in the courtroom. Nature Reviews
Neuroscience, 14, 869–876.
Howe, M. L., Candel, I., Otgaar, H., Malone, C., & Wimmer, M. C.
(2010a). Valence and the development of immediate and long-term
false memory illusions. Memory, 18, 58–75.
Howe, M. L., Garner, S. R., Charlesworth, M., & Knott, L. M. (2011). A
brighter side to memory illusions: False memories prime children’s
and adults’ insight-based problem solving. Journal of Experimental
Child Psychology, 108, 383–393.
Howe, M. L., Garner, S. R., Dewhurst, S. A., & Ball, L. J. (2010b). Can
false memories prime problem solutions? Cognition, 117, 176–181.
Howe, M. L., Threadgold, E., Garner, S. R., Bland, C. E., & Ball, L. B.
(2015). The development of children’s and adults’ analogical rea-
soning. Manuscript in preparation.
Howe, M. L., Threadgold, E., Norbury, J. V., Garner, S., & Ball, L. J.
(2013). Priming children’s and adults’ analogical problem solutions
with true and false memories. Journal of Experimental Child
Psychology, 116, 96–103.
Howe, M. L., Wilkinson, S., & Monaghan, P. (2012). False memories
trump true ones as problem-solving primes after a delay.
Minneapolis, MN: Paper presented at the annual meeting of the
Psychonomic Society.
Kahneman, D., & Klein, G. (2009). Conditions for intuitive expertise: A
failure to disagree. American Psychologist, 64, 515–526.
Keane, M. (1987). On retrieving analogues when solving problems.
Quarterly Journal of Experimental Psychology, 39A, 29–41.
Kokinov, B. (1990). Associative memory-based reasoning: Some exper-
imental results. In Proceedings of the twelfth annual conference of
the Cognitive Science Society (pp. 741–749). Hillsdale, NJ:
Erlbaum.
Kokinov, B. N., & Petrov, A. A. (2001). Integrating memory and reason-
ing in analogy-making: The AMBR model. In D. G. Gentner, K. J.
Holyoak, & B. N. Kokinov (Eds.), The analogical mind:
Perspectives from cognitive science (pp. 59–124). Cambridge,
MA: MIT Press.
McDermott, K. B. (1996). The persistence of false memories in list recall.
Journal of Memory and Language, 35, 212–230.
Mednick, M. T., Mednick, S. A., & Mednick, E. V. (1964). Incubation of
creative performance and specific associative priming. Journal of
Abnormal and Social Psychology, 69, 84–88.
894 Mem Cogn (2015) 43:879–895
Nelson, D. L., Kitto, K., Galea, D., McEvoy, C. L., & Bruza, P. D. (2013).
How activation, entanglement, and searching a sematic network
contribute to event memory. Memory & Cognition, 41, 797–819.
Nelson, D. L., McEvoy, C. L., & Pointer, L. (2003). Spreading activation
or spooky activation at a distance? Journal of Experimental
Psychology: Learning, Memory, and Cognition, 29, 42–52.
Nelson, D. L., McEvoy, C. L., & Schreiber, T. A. (1998). The University
of South Florida word association, rhyme, and word fragment
norms. Retrieved from http://w3.usf.edu/FreeAssociation/
Nuñez, N., Schweitzer, K., Chai, C. A., & Myers, B. (in press). Negative
emotions felt during trial: The effect of fear, anger, and sadness on
juror decision making. Applied Cognitive Psychology.
Newman, E. J., & Lindsay, D. S. (2009). False memories: What the hell
are they for? Applied Cognitive Psychology, 23, 1105–1121.
Osman, M., & Stavy, R. (2006). Development of intuitive rules:
Evaluating the application of the dual-system framework to under-
standing children’s intuitive reasoning. Psychonomic Bulletin &
Review, 13, 935–953.
Otgaar, H., Howe, M. L., Peters, M., Sauerland, M., & Raymaekers, L.
(2013). Developmental trends in different types of spontaneous false
memories: Implications for the legal field. Behavioral Sciences and
the Law, 31, 666–682.
Otgaar, H., Howe, M. L., Peters, M., Smeets, T., &Moritz, S. (2014). The
production of spontaneous false memories across childhood.
Journal of Experimental Child Psychology, 121, 28–41.
Otgaar, H., Howe, M. L., van Beers, J., van Hoof, R., & Bronzwaer, N.
(2015). The positive ramifications of false memories using a percep-
tual closure task. Journal of Applied Research in Memory and
Cognition, 4, 43–50.
Otgaar, H., Smeets, T., & Peters, M. (2012). Children’s implanted false
memories and additional script knowledge. Applied Cognitive
Psychology, 26, 709–715.
Pennington, N., & Hastie, R. (1986). Evidence evaluation in complex
decision making. Journal of Personality and Social Psychology,
51, 242–258.
Pennington, N., & Hastie, R. (1990). Practical implications of psycholog-
ical research on juror and jury decision making. Personality and
Social Psychology Bulletin, 16, 90–105.
Pennington, N., & Hastie, R. (1991). A cognitive theory of juror decision
making: The story model. Cardozo Law Review, 13, 519–557.
Pennington, N., & Hastie, R. (1992). Explaining the evidence: Tests of
the story model for juror decision making. Journal of Personality
and Social Psychology, 62, 189–206.
Richland, L. E., Morrison, R. G., & Holyoak, K. J. (2006). Children’s
development of analogical reasoning: Insights from scene analogy
problems. Journal of Experimental Child Psychology, 94, 249–273.
Richland, L. E., Zur, O., & Holyoak, K. J. (2007). Cognitive supports for
analogies in the mathematics classroom. Science, 316, 1128–1129.
Roediger, H. L., III, & McDermott, K. B. (1995). Creating false memo-
ries: Remembering words not presented in lists. Journal of
Experimental Psychology: Learning, Memory, and Cognition, 21,
803–814.
Roediger, H. L., III, Watson, J. M., McDermott, K. B., & Gallo, D. A.
(2001). Factors that determine false recall: A multiple regression
analysis. Psychonomic Bulletin & Review, 8, 385–407.
Schacter, D. L., Gallo, D., & Kensinger, E. (2007). The cognitive neuro-
sciences of implicit and false memories: Perspectives on processing
specificity. In J. S. Nairne (Ed.), The foundations of remembering:
Essays in honor of Henry L. Roediger III (pp. 353–378). New York,
NY: Psychology Press.
Schacter, D. L., Guerin, S. A., & St. Jacques, P. L. (2011). Memory
distortion: An adaptive perspective. Trends in Cognitive Sciences,
15, 467–474.
Schacter, D. L., & Loftus, E. F. (2013). Memory and law: What can
cognitive neuroscience contribute? Nature Neuroscience, 16, 119–
123.
Schunn, C., & Dunbar, K. (1996). Priming, analogy, and awareness in
complex reasoning. Memory & Cognition, 24, 271–284.
Siegler, R. S., & Svetina, M. (2002). A microgenetic/cross-sectional
study of matrix completion: Comparing short-term and long-term
change. Child Development, 73, 793–809.
Slamecka, N. J., & Graf, P. (1978). The generation effect: Delineation of a
phenomenon. Journal of Experimental Psychology: Human
Learning and Memory, 4, 592–604.
Sloman, S. A. (1996). The empirical case for two systems of reasoning.
Psychological Bulletin, 119, 3–22.
Sternberg, R. J. (1977). Component processes in analogical reasoning.
Psychological Review, 84, 353–378.
Sternberg, R. J., & Nigro, G. (1980). Developmental patterns in the so-
lution of verbal analogies. Child Development, 50, 27–38.
Talmi, D., Luk, B. T. C., McGarry, L. M., & Moscovitch, M.
(2007). The contribution of relatedness and distinctiveness to
emotionally-enhanced memory. Journal of Memory and
Language, 56, 555–574.
Twilley, L. C., Dixon, P., Taylor, D., & Clark, K. (1994). University of
Alberta norms of relative meaning frequency for 566 homographs.
Memory & Cognition, 22, 111–126.
Wilkinson, S. (2014). The false memory illusion strikes back: An
investigation into the adaptive functions of false memories
(Unpublished doctoral dissertation). Lancaster, UK: Lancaster
University.
Mem Cogn (2015) 43:879–895 895
http://w3.usf.edu/FreeAssociation/
Abstract
Experiment 1
Method
Participants
Design and materials
Procedure
Results
Solution rates
Solution times
Discussion
Experiment 2a
Method
Participants
Design
Materials and procedure
Results
Discussion
Experiment 2b
Method
Participants
Design and materials
Procedure
Results
Solution rates
Solution times
Discussion
General discussion
Appendix A
Experiment 1: Analogies and Associated DRM Lists
Group A Analogies and DRM Lists (with BAS)
Group B Analogies and DRM Lists (with BAS)
Appendix B
Appendix C
Experiment 2b Analogical Problems and DRM Lists
Group A Analogies (with multiple-choice A, B, and C errors, respectively) and DRM Lists (with BAS)
Group B Analogies (with multiple-choice A, B, and C errors, respectively) and DRM Lists (with BAS)
References
https://doi.org/10.1177/2167702618797106
Clinical Psychological Science
2019, Vol. 7(1) 29 –31
© The Author(s) 2018
Article reuse guidelines:
sagepub.com/journals-permissions
DOI: 10.1177/2167702618797106
www.psychologicalscience.org/CPS
ASSOCIATION FOR
PSYCHOLOGICAL SCIENCECommentary
Patihis and Pendergrast’s (2019; this issue, p. 3) research
raises questions about balancing risks of false memories
with risks of not treating childhood trauma that may
have been forgotten. Their central concern is that when
clinicians ask about repressed memory, many clients
will form false memories of child abuse.
They emphasize suggestibility/false memory, but
their review omits important studies that moderate their
concerns. For example, when Pezdek, Finger, and
Hodge (1997) tried to implant a false memory in adults
of receiving a childhood enema, the error rate was zero.
Although some adults, including with trauma histories,
agree with schema-consistent false suggestions about
childhood events, when it comes to taboo acts of a
sexual nature, Goldfarb, Goodman, Larson, Eisen, and
Qin (in press) again found zero false memories. Many
suggestibility/false memory studies use creative coding,
such as when “partial false memories” (“That never
happened to me, but if my mother said it did, it could
have been at the mall”) are nearly buried in statistics
reported.
That said, we acknowledge the reality of false abuse
memories in some individuals as possibly induced or
encouraged by therapists, particularly those who use
hypnosis or psychotropic drugs (e.g., in combination
with religious or other doctrines; Bottoms, Shaver, &
Goodman, 1996). Still, it is unclear that clinicians should
refrain from discussion with clients about lost memory
(a term we prefer because it does not invoke “repres-
sion” mechanistically), given that therapy can help
memory: Child victims who sought therapy during/soon
after legal involvement (vs. did not) had more accurate
long-term memory for abuse a decade later (Goodman,
Goldfarb, Quas, & Lyon, 2017).
We note that Patihis and Pendergrast (2019) leave
largely unaddressed that lost memories of childhood
trauma can occur, as can recovery of them. In longitu-
dinal studies of documented child sexual abuse (CSA),
15% to 38% of victims failed to recall the target case. Of
those who recalled it, 15% to 16% said there were times
of not remembering it (Goodman et al., 2003; Williams,
1994). More severe abuse was associated with reporting
having forgotten the CSA but also actually predicted
greater memory accuracy for it (Ghetti et al., 2006).
Relevant are our past findings regarding misinterpreta-
tion of research questions. Victims often misinterpreted
questions about “repressed memory” and “amnesia,”
wrongly assuming we were asking if there was a time
when they were not consciously thinking about the CSA
797106 CPXXXX10.1177/2167702618797106Goodman et al.Balancing the Risks
research-article2018
Corresponding Author:
Gail S. Goodman, Department of Psychology, University of California,
1 Shields Ave., Davis, CA 95616
E-mail: ggoodman@ucdavis.edu
False Memories and True Memories of
Childhood Trauma: Balancing the Risks
Gail S. Goodman1, Lauren Gonzalves1, and Samara Wolpe2
1Department of Psychology, University of California, Davis, and 2Department of Psychology,
University of California, Santa Cruz
Abstract
How often do clinical psychologists discuss with their adult clients the possibility that the clients might have been
abused as children but had repressed the memory? If during the course of therapy clients remember being abused
as children when the clients had no previous memories of such abuse, how likely is it that the memories are false?
These questions underlie Patihis and Pendergrast’s Mechanical Turk survey study (this issue, p. 3). We discuss relevant
scientific findings, including from longitudinal research on adults who as children experienced documented child
maltreatment. We question inferences and generalizations resulting from the methodology Patihis and Pendergrast
employed. We argue that clinicians are often justified in asking about past child abuse, remembered and forgotten,
and that clinicians and researchers should strive to balance the risk of adults forming false memories with the need for
adults to overcome childhood trauma.
http://www.psychologicalscience.org/cps
https://sagepub.com/journals-permissions
http://crossmark.crossref.org/dialog/?doi=10.1177%2F2167702618797106&domain=pdf&date_stamp=2018-09-21
30 Goodman et al.
experience (Ghetti et al., 2006). We do not know how
Mechanical Turk workers interpreted the questions
asked. For example, clinicians, as mandated reporters of
child maltreatment, often have clients sign an acknowl-
edgement of such, which could lead to what participants
interpret as instigating discussion of (lost) memories of
abuse. Moreover, given variation in interpretations, sur-
vey respondents who reported they came to remember
being abused as a child may mean they reinterpreted
true childhood experiences as abusive (e.g., realizing a
“whooping” that left bruises was physical abuse).
In our study of CSA victims who reported periods of
complete forgetting, frequently endorsed reasons were
that the CSA was so horrible and frightful that they
pushed it out of their minds. These responses reflect
individuals’ active attempts to avoid thinking about the
trauma. Others indicated that it happened so often that
they could not remember it all; they had (naturally) lost
memory for parts of the repeated assaults. A few par-
ticipants indicated they had forgotten about it because
they did not think the CSA was important. Given these
responses and the links of child maltreatment to psy-
chopathology (Edwards, Dube, Felitti, & Anda, 2007),
clinicians may need at times to ask about lost traumatic
memories.
Although we cannot rule out, from the studies,
unwillingness to disclose, there are reasons why lost
memories might be awakened in therapy. One reason
is related to infantile amnesia (i.e., the absence of
explicit memory for one’s early life events). Most adults
can remember highly consequential, even traumatic
events if they happened to them back to age 3.5 years,
often with considerable detail. However, some people
accurately remember traumatic events back to 2.75
years of age (Williams, 1994); others’ autobiographical
memory starts at age 6 or 7. It is an empirical question
(one we are currently examining) whether these early
traumatic memories may be retrievable with cues and
reminders. It is well established that cues and reminders
can heighten recall and that spreading activation (which
may take some time) can increase memory access
(Howe, 2011). Thus, retrieving long-ago events after
some time, thought, and prompting fits with scientific
research.
Another possible reason for lost and recovered mem-
ory relates to polyvictimization: having so many child-
hood traumatic events and sources of distress that some
of them are not accessible without reminders or
prompts. Adults with traumatic childhoods often tell us
that they do not remember the target maltreatment
because they had such chaotic childhoods (e.g., intra-
and extrafamilial assaults, multiple foster homes, living
on the streets) that it is hard to remember it all. Their
backgrounds are quite different from those of
participants in most undergraduate samples studied by
many research psychologists.
Note that individual differences exist in coping with
trauma that affect true and false memory. Although
most people remember traumatic events particularly
well, those with more attachment-related avoidant cop-
ing show greater loss of detail from such memories
(Edelstein et al., 2005). Avoidant coping could help lead
to a clinician’s couch.
Finally, in extrapolating their findings to the general
public, the authors do not emphasize several important
factors: for example, the Turk sample’s likely strong
interest in psychology, making the survey results not
readily generalizable to the U.S. population; the pos-
sibility that clients first raised the repressed memory
topic themselves; respondents’ likely lack of knowledge
as to what types of therapies they received; participants’
possible nonmotivation to answer honestly; and behav-
ioral/cognitive behavioral therapies (which were espe-
cially frequent) resulting in the greatest number of
individuals asked about repressed memory.
Repression as a mechanism is hard to validate. To the
extent Freud meant lost memory for a childhood trauma
resulting from avoidance of memory, many within
experimental and clinical psychology can likely agree
that such forgetting exists. But to the extent that Freud
was referring to the complete loss of conscious memory
for trauma that had negative implications for the self
(and thus subject to repression) and was retrievable with
a supportive therapist, there is still valid disagreement.
However, children with insecure attachment (or with
parents with avoidant attachment) benefit from a sup-
portive interviewer for providing their memories (Chae
et al., 2017; Milojevich & Quas, 2017). This is consistent
with Freud’s concept that memories are sometimes
accessed in a supportive, therapeutic context.
Note that mounting scientific evidence exists for per-
vasive, toxic, long-term effects of childhood trauma on
mental and physical health (Edwards et al., 2007).
Recounting memory for actual childhood maltreatment
in a therapeutic context is likely an important part of
the healing process. Risks associated with clinicians not
asking about childhood trauma, remembered or forgot-
ten, are arguably greater than risks of creating false
memories—with the risk assessment surely guided not
only by science but also by one’s values and fears. For
perspective, the Innocence Project documents 358 cases
of DNA exonerations since 1989, and many of the origi-
nal convictions were based on faulty eyewitness mem-
ory. However, in 2016, there were 676,000 child victims
of substantiated maltreatment in the United States (U.S.
Department of Health and Human Services, 2018). That
is almost 2,000 times more in a single year. Both figures
likely represent “the tip of the iceberg”; both are
Balancing the Risks 31
extremely serious. Although research can guide us to
avoid error, we urge scientists and clinicians to confront
multiple risks involved, not just the risk of false
memory.
Action Editor
Scott O. Lilienfeld served as action editor for this article.
Author Contributions
G. S. Goodman developed the commentary content in col-
laboration with L. Gonzalves and S. Wolpe, who also con-
ducted literature reviews. G. S. Goodman wrote the first draft.
L. Gonzalves and S. Wolpe provided useful comments for
additions and revision. All the authors approved the final
manuscript for submission.
Acknowledgments
Any opinions, findings, conclusions, or recommendations
expressed in this article are those of the authors and do not
necessarily reflect the views of the National Science Founda-
tion or National Institute of Justice.
Declaration of Conflicting Interests
The author(s) declared that there were no conflicts of interest
with respect to the authorship or the publication of this
article.
Funding
Writing of this article was supported in part by grants from
the National Science Foundation (No. 1424420) and the
National Institute of Justice (No. 2013-IJ-CX-0104).
References
Bottoms, B. L., Shaver, P. R., & Goodman, G. S. (1996). An
analysis of ritualistic and religion-related child abuse alle-
gations. Law and Human Behavior, 20, 1–34.
Chae, Y., Goodman, M., Goodman, G. S., Troxol, N.,
McWilliams, K., Thompson, R., . . . Widaman, K. (2016,
March). Attachment, interviewer support, and memory.
Paper presented at the American Psychology-Law Society
Conference, Atlanta, GA.
Edelstein, R., Ghetti, S., Quas, J. A., Goodman, G. S., Alexander,
K. W., Redlich, A., & Cordon, I. (2005). Avoidant attach-
ment and memory for child sexual abuse. Social and
Personality Psychology Bulletin, 31, 1549–1560.
Edwards, V., Dube, S., Felitti, V., & Anda, R. (2007). It’s OK to
ask about past abuse. American Psychologist, 62, 327–328.
Ghetti, S., Edelstein, R., Goodman, G. S., Quas, J. A.,
Alexander, K. W., Redlich, A., . . . Jones, D. P. H. (2006).
Subjective and objective memory for child sexual abuse.
Memory & Cognition, 34, 1011–1025.
Goldfarb, D., Goodman, G. S., Larson, R., Eisen, M., & Qin,
J. (in press). Long-term memory in adults exposed to
childhood violence: Remembering genital contact nearly
20 years later. Clinical Psychological Science.
Goodman, G. S., Ghetti, S., Quas, J. A., Edelstein, R., Alexander,
K., Cordon, I., & Jones, D. (2003). A prospective study
of memory for child sexual abuse. Psychological Science,
14, 113–118.
Goodman, G. S., Goldfarb, D., Quas, J. A., & Lyon, A. (2017).
Psychological counseling and accuracy of memory for
child sexual abuse. American Psychologist, 72, 920–931.
Howe, M. (2011). The nature of early memory. New York, NY:
Oxford University Press.
Milojevich, H., & Quas, J. A. (2017). Parental attachment
and children’s memory for attachment-relevant stories.
Applied Developmental Psychology, 21, 14–29.
Patihis, L., & Pendergrast, M. H. (2019). Reports of recovered
memories of abuse in therapy in a large age-representative
U.S. national sample: Therapy type and decade com-
parisons. Clinical Psychological Science, 7, 3–21. doi:10
.1177/2167702618773315
Pezdek, K., Finger, K., & Hodge, D. (1997). Planting false
childhood memories. Psychological Science, 8, 437–441.
U.S. Department of Health and Human Services. (2018). Child
maltreatment, 2016. Available from https://www.acf.hhs
.gov/sites/default/files/cb/cm2016
Williams, L. (1994). Recall of childhood trauma. Journal of
Consulting and Clinical Psychology, 62, 1167–1176.
https://www.acf.hhs.gov/sites/default/files/cb/cm2016
https://www.acf.hhs.gov/sites/default/files/cb/cm2016
Sleep deprivation increases formation of false memory
JUNE C . LO , PEARLYNNE L . H . CHONG , SHANKAR I GANESAN ,
RUTH L . F . L EONG and M I CHAEL W . L . CHEE
Centre for Cognitive Neuroscience, Neuroscience and Behavioral Disorders Program, Duke-NUS Medical School, Singapore
Keywords
adolescents, adults, cognitive function, false
memory, memory formation, sleep deprivation
Correspondence
Michael W. L. Chee, Centre for Cognitive
Neuroscience, Duke-NUS Graduate Medical
School, 169857 Singapore.
Tel.: +65 65164916;
fax: +65 62218625;
e-mail: michael.chee@duke-nus.edu.sg
[The copyright line for this article was changed
on 17 February 2017 after original online
publication.]
Accepted in revised form 22 May 2016; received
25 September 2015
DOI: 10.1111/jsr.12436
SUMMARY
Retrieving false information can have serious consequences. Sleep is
important for memory, but voluntary sleep curtailment is becoming more
rampant. Here, the misinformation paradigm was used to investigate
false memory formation after 1 night of total sleep deprivation in healthy
young adults (N = 58, mean age � SD = 22.10 � 1.60 years; 29
males), and 7 nights of partial sleep deprivation (5 h sleep opportunity)
in these young adults and healthy adolescents (N = 54, mean
age � SD = 16.67 � 1.03 years; 25 males). In both age groups,
sleep-deprived individuals were more likely than well-rested persons to
incorporate misleading post-event information into their responses during
memory retrieval (P < 0.050). These findings reiterate the importance of
adequate sleep in optimal cognitive functioning, reveal the vulnerability of
adolescents’ memory during sleep curtailment, and suggest the need to
assess eyewitnesses’ sleep history after encountering misleading
information.
INTRODUCTION
Memories of an event rarely provide a literal record of that
experience. Instead, they involve the integration of elements
of that episode with prior experience or knowledge. A highly
novel or distinct experience, for example a first publication in
a high-impact journal, is rarely mis-remembered. However,
when the memory of a specific episode is confused with prior
similar experiences, and/or fails to be distinctly encoded,
errors in subsequent memory retrieval can occur. The
emergence of such false memories often reminds us of
human fallibility, as highlighted by the inconsistencies in
recollection of personal events surrounding the Challenger
disaster (Neisser and Harsch, 1992). However, they can also
have more serious consequences such as wrongful convic-
tion due to inaccurate eyewitness testimony.
Adequate sleep is essential to optimize memory processes
(Diekelmann and Born, 2010; Stickgold and Walker, 2013).
This is consistent across a range of tests evaluating veridical
memory (Lo et al., 2014a; Payne et al., 2012; Rasch et al.,
2007; Tamminen et al., 2010). However, relatively little
attention has been paid to the possible effects of inadequate
sleep on the formation of false memory. This is increasingly
relevant because voluntary sleep curtailment, in young
persons, has become widespread in developed societies
(Steptoe et al., 2006).
Two paradigms are widely used in the laboratory to induce
false memory. In the Deese–Roediger–McDermott (Roediger
and McDermott, 1995) paradigm, participants learn lists of
semantically related words, with words in each list sharing a
common theme word that is never presented. Retrieval of
these theme words (a measure of false memory) is affected
by sleep, although the specific mechanism appears to vary
with the retrieval strategy used (Diekelmann et al., 2008,
2010; Fenn et al., 2009; Lo et al., 2014b; McKeon et al.,
2012; Payne et al., 2009).
The misinformation paradigm (Loftus et al., 1978; Okado
and Stark, 2005) is another tool used to assess false
memory. It involves inducing retroactive interference through
the introduction of misleading information related to previ-
ously witnessed events. Misleading a person using this
technique is ecologically more relevant to forensic and
medical situations where the retrieval of critical details of an
event can be disturbed by posing leading questions (Frenda
et al., 2011). Using this paradigm, Frenda et al. (2014) found
that 1 night of total sleep deprivation (TSD) elevated false
memory formation in young adults. False memory formation
also tended to be more prevalent in individuals reporting
short versus long sleep duration on the night prior to the
experiment, suggesting a possible effect of partial sleep
deprivation (PSD). The latter point was clarified in Experi-
ment 1 by investigating the effect of PSD on false memory
ª 2016 The Authors. Journal of Sleep Research published by John Wiley & Sons Ltd on behalf of European Sleep Research Society.
This is an open access article under the terms of the Creative Commons Attribution L
icense
,
which permits use, distribution and reproduction in any medium, provided the original work is properly cited. 673
J Sleep Res. (2016) 25, 673–682 Sleep deprivation and memory
13652869, 2016, 6, D
ow
nloaded from
https://onlinelibrary.w
iley.com
/doi/10.1111/jsr.12436 by L
iberty U
niversity, W
iley O
nline L
ibrary on [27/02/2023]. See the T
erm
s and C
onditions (https://onlinelibrary.w
iley.com
/term
s-and-conditions) on W
iley O
nline L
ibrary for rules of use; O
A
articles are governed by the applicable C
reative C
om
m
ons L
icense
http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/4.0/
formation in young adults. Effect size was also compared
with that of TSD.
In some countries, >90% of adolescents sleep less than
the recommended 8–10 h (Do et al., 2013; Ohida et al.,
2004). Despite the well-documented degradation of sus-
tained attention, working memory and executive functions in
young adults undergoing PSD (Lo et al., 2012; Van Dongen
et al., 2003), experimental studies in adolescents suggest
that the negative cognitive consequences of PSD are milder
in this age group (Carskadon et al., 1981; Fallone et al.,
2001; Kopasz et al., 2010). For example, even when
adolescents were restricted to 5 h sleep opportunity for
4 nights, several cognitive functions, including veridical recall
of declarative memory, were spared, leading some to
suggest that adolescents may be resilient to sleep restriction
(Voderholzer et al., 2011). To test this proposal, in Experi-
ment 2, the effect of PSD on the formation of veridical as well
as false memory formation in adolescents was evaluated.
MATERIALS AND METHODS
Experiment 1
Participants
Sixty healthy undergraduate students, who did not report any
symptoms of sleep apnea (the Berlin Questionnaire; Netzer
et al., 1999), exhibit extreme morningness–eveningness
preference [the Morningness–Eveningness Questionnaire
(MEQ); Horne and Ostberg, 1976], or consume >5 cups of
caffeinated beverages each day, were randomized into three
groups: control group; PSD group; and TSD group. Two TSD
participants failed to adhere to the assigned sleep schedule
and were excluded from all analyses. Thus, the final
sample included 58 participants (mean age � SD =
22.10 � 1.60 years; 29 males). The three groups were
comparable in age, gender distribution, MEQ score and
self-reported habitual sleep duration (P > 0.344; Table 1).
Design and procedure
This study employed a between-subject design (Fig. 1a). The
control and PSD groups were required to stay in bed for 8 h
and 5 h each night, respectively, for 7 nights prior to the
experiment session. On the day of the experiment, these
participants were instructed to wake up by 09:00 hours. The
TSD group followed their habitual sleep schedule for 7 nights,
and in the morning prior to the TSD night woke up by
09:00 hours and stayed awake until 10:00 hours the follow-
ing day. From 20:00 hours to 10:00 hours, they were under
constant supervision by research staff in the laboratory,
which had natural and artificial lighting, and caffeine-free
snacks were provided if necessary. Daytime naps were not
permitted during the 1-week period of sleep manipulation.
Compliance with sleep schedules was verified with actigra-
phy (Actiwatch 2, Respironics). Consumption of caffeinated
beverages was prohibited 24 h prior to the experiment
session. The misinformation experiment commenced at
10:00 hours after the last manipulation night.
This study was approved by the Institutional Review Board
of the National University of Singapore, and conducted in
accordance with the provisions of the Declaration of Helsinki.
All the participants provided written informed consent.
Materials
Misinformation paradigm. The misinformation paradigm
(Okado and Stark, 2005) consisted of three phases: event-
encoding; misinformation; and memory and source tests
(Fig. 1b). In the event-encoding phase, two sets of 50
photographs depicting two crimes (a car break-in and a
robbery) were presented. Each photograph was shown for
3500 ms with an inter-stimulus interval of 500 ms. Partici-
pants were instructed to pay close attention to the pho-
tographs as they might be questioned on them.
Forty minutes after the event-encoding phase, participants
entered the misinformation phase. Two sets of 50 narratives
were presented, with each corresponding to a previously
shown photograph. Each narrative sentence was presented
for 5500 mswith an inter-stimulus interval of 500 ms. For each
crime, 12 of the narratives contradicted the content of the
photograph. Participants were therefore exposed to 24 pieces
of misinformation regarding central details of the event,
interleaved with sentences containing information that was
consistent with the photographs. Participants were asked to
pay close attention to the narratives and told that theymight be
Table 1 Sample characteristics of Experiment 1
Control group PSD group TSD group
F/v2 PMean SEM Mean SEM Mean SEM
n 20 – 20 – 18 – – –
Age (years) 22.50 0.32 21.90 0.37 21.89 0.41 0.93 0.402
Gender (% males) 50.00 – 50.00 – 50.00 – 0.00 0.999
Morningness–Eveningness Questionnaire score 46.65 1.89 50.11 1.87 47.72 1.83 0.91 0.407
Self-reported habitual sleep duration (h) 7.03 0.22 6.65 0.28 6.50 0.28 1.09 0.344
PSD, partial sleep deprivation; SEM, standard error of the mean; TSD, total sleep deprivation.
ª 2016 The Authors. Journal of Sleep Research published by John Wiley & Sons Ltd on behalf of European Sleep Research Society.
674 J. C. Lo et al.
13652869, 2016, 6, D
ow
nloaded from
https://onlinelibrary.w
iley.com
/doi/10.1111/jsr.12436 by L
iberty U
niversity, W
iley O
nline L
ibrary on [27/02/2023]. See the T
erm
s and C
onditions (https://onlinelibrary.w
iley.com
/term
s-and-conditions) on W
iley O
nline L
ibrary for rules of use; O
A
articles are governed by the applicable C
reative C
om
m
ons L
icense
questioned on them later, but were not informed of the
discrepancies between the photographs and the narratives.
Memory of the two crimes was assessed 20 min after the
misinformation phase. The memory test consisted of 36 three-
alternative forced-choice questions, and participants were
instructed to answer based on their knowledge of ‘the
photographs alone’. For each crime, 12 of the 18 questions
were critical questions and probed memory of items with
discrepancies between the photographs and narratives. The
other six questions were non-critical questions involving
memoranda that were consistent across photographs and
narratives. Among the three alternatives for the critical
questions, one was a novel foil, one was the correct answer
(consistent with the photograph), and one was consistent with
the misinformation presented in the narrative. For the non-
critical questions, an additional novel foil was present instead
of any misinformation. In the source memory test, participants
were shown previously answered questions together with their
answers, and had to indicate if their answer was based on: ‘in
the pictures only’, ‘in the narratives only’, ‘in both and theywere
the same’, ‘in both and they were different’, or ‘I guessed’.
Three measures of performance were derived. The correct
memory rate, a measure of veridical memory, was defined as
the percentage of non-critical questions to which participants
provided the correct answer. There were two measures of
false memory. The misinformation consistent response rate
was the percentage of critical questions for which participants
incorporated misinformation from the narratives into their
responses in the memory test. The false memory rate was
the percentage of critical questions for which participants
both incorporated misinformation from the narratives into
their responses, and misattributed the source of information
as a photograph.
Psychomotor Vigilance Task (PVT). A 10-min PVT (Dinges
and Powell, 1985) was administered to measure sustained
attention between successive phases of the misinformation
paradigm. A counter on the computer screen started counting
at random intervals between 2 and 10 s. Participants were
required to respond as quickly as possible. Performance was
indicated by the number of lapses (responses exceeding
500 ms).
Figure 1. Protocol of Experiment 1. (a) The three groups of participants differed in their sleep history prior to performing the misinformation
paradigm. While time in bed (TIB) for the control and the partial sleep deprivation (PSD) groups were 8 h and 5 h, respectively, for 7 nights, the
total sleep deprivation (TSD) group followed their habitual sleep schedule for 7 nights before spending an entire night awake at the laboratory.
(b) The misinformation paradigm was administered at 10:00 hours after the sleep history manipulation period. Participants were shown two
crimes in the forms of photographs (event-encoding phase) and narratives that might not be consistent with the photographs (misinformation
phase). Memory of the crimes was tested in the third phase (memory and source tests). Successive phases of the misinformation paradigm
were, respectively, separated by a 40-min and a 20-min period during which participants completed the Psychomotor Vigilance Task (PVT), the
Karolinska Sleepiness Scale (KSS), and some questionnaires.
ª 2016 The Authors. Journal of Sleep Research published by John Wiley & Sons Ltd on behalf of European Sleep Research Society.
Sleep deprivation and false memory 675
13652869, 2016, 6, D
ow
nloaded from
https://onlinelibrary.w
iley.com
/doi/10.1111/jsr.12436 by L
iberty U
niversity, W
iley O
nline L
ibrary on [27/02/2023]. See the T
erm
s and C
onditions (https://onlinelibrary.w
iley.com
/term
s-and-conditions) on W
iley O
nline L
ibrary for rules of use; O
A
articles are governed by the applicable C
reative C
om
m
ons L
icense
Karolinska Sleepiness Scale (KSS). The KSS (Akerstedt
and Gillberg, 1990) was used to measure levels of subjective
sleepiness after the event-encoding phase and the misinfor-
mation phase. Participants chose one of nine levels of
sleepiness (1 = ‘extremely alert’; 3 = ‘alert’; 5 = ‘neither
sleepy nor alert’; 7 = ‘sleepy but not fighting sleep’; 9 = ‘ex-
tremely sleepy, it is an effort to stay awake’) that best described
their current level of sleepiness. Participants also completed
other questionnaires not pertinent to the present report.
Statistical analyses
Statistical analyses were conducted using SPSS Version 21
(IBM, Chicago, IL, USA). One-way ANOVAS and independent-
samples t-tests were used to determine group differences in
cognitive performance and the KSS scores. The effect sizes
of PSD and TSD (relative to the control group) on perfor-
mance in the misinformation paradigm were quantified using
Cohen’s d. The conventional cut-offs for small, medium and
large effect sizes are 0.20, 0.50 and 0.80, respectively
(Cohen, 1988).
Experiment 2
Participants
Sixty secondary school students participated in the Need for
Sleep Study – a 2-week protocol that examined changes in
cognitive performance, subjective sleepiness and mood
during PSD. Subjects were 15–19 years old and healthy;
they were not habitual short sleepers and did not consume >5
cups of caffeinated beverages each day (for more details of
study implementation and selection criteria, see Lo et al.,
2016). Participants were randomized into control and PSD
groups. Because of withdrawals (n = 3), non-compliance with
the experimental procedures (n = 1) and technical errors
(n = 2), the final sample included 54 participants (mean
age � SD = 16.67 � 1.03 years; 25 males). The two groups
did not differ in age, gender distribution, body mass index,
MEQ score or self-reported habitual sleep duration
(P > 0.166; Table 2).
Design and procedure
This study employed a between-subject design (Fig. 2). One
week prior to this 2-week protocol, participants followed a 9-h
sleep schedule at home (23:00–08:00 hours), which was
verified with actigraphy (Actiwatch 2, Respironics). The
protocol began with three baseline nights of 9 h time in bed
(TIB; 23:00–08:00 hours), followed by 7 nights of sleep
opportunity manipulation [5 h TIB (01:00–06:00 hours) and 9
h TIB (23:00–08:00 hours) for the PSD and control groups,
respectively], and ended with three recovery nights of 9 h TIB
(23:00–08:00 hours). Sleep duration and macrostructure
were measured with polysomnography (PSG) on the first,
fourth and seventh manipulation night (M1, M4 and M7).
The misinformation paradigm, identical to that used in
Experiment 1, was administered at 14:00 hours after the last
night of sleep opportunity manipulation. The event-encoding
phase was followed by a 40-min period when participants
completed a cognitive test battery, inclusive of the PVT and
the KSS. The misinformation phase was then administered,
followed by a 20-min period when participants completed the
KSS and some questionnaires not pertinent to the current
report. Afterwards, participants completed a memory test and
a source test.
This study was approved by the Institutional Review Board
of the National University of Singapore, and conducted in
accordance with the provisions of the Declaration of Helsinki.
All participants and their parent or guardian provided written
informed consent.
PSG
Electroencephalogram (EEG) was recorded using a SOM-
NOtouch recorder (SOMNOmedics GmbH, Randersacker,
Germany) from two channels (C3 and C4 in the international
10–20 system) referenced to the contralateral mastoids. The
common ground and reference electrodes were placed at Cz
and FPz respectively. Electrooculography (EOG) and sub-
mental electromyography (EMG) were also used. Impedance
was kept below 5 kO for EEG electrodes, and below 10 kO
for EOG and EMG electrodes. Signals were sampled at
256 Hz, and filtered between 0.2 and 35 Hz for EEG and
between 0.2 and 10 Hz for EOG.
Sleep scoring analyses were performed using the
FASST toolbox (http://www.montefiore.ulg.ac.be/~phillips/
FASST.html). EEG signals were band-pass filtered
between 0.2 and 25 Hz. Scoring was performed visually
by trained technicians following the criteria set by the
AASM Manual for the Scoring of Sleep and Associated
Events (Iber et al., 2007). Total Sleep Time (TST) and
sleep macrostructure, i.e. time spent in different sleep
Table 2 Sample characteristics of Experiment 2
Control
group PSD group
t/v2 PMean SEM Mean SEM
n 25 – 29 –
Age (years) 16.88 0.23 16.48 0.17 1.43 0.166
Gender (% males) 44.00 – 48.28 – 0.10 0.790
Body mass index 20.52 0.50 20.40 0.54 0.16 0.871
Morningness–
Eveningness
Questionnaire
score
49.84 1.45 47.93 1.40 0.94 0.351
Self-reported
habitual sleep
duration (h)
6.86 0.15 6.96 0.13 0.49 0.627
PSD, partial sleep deprivation; SEM, standard error of the mean.
ª 2016 The Authors. Journal of Sleep Research published by John Wiley & Sons Ltd on behalf of European Sleep Research Society.
676 J. C. Lo et al.
13652869, 2016, 6, D
ow
nloaded from
https://onlinelibrary.w
iley.com
/doi/10.1111/jsr.12436 by L
iberty U
niversity, W
iley O
nline L
ibrary on [27/02/2023]. See the T
erm
s and C
onditions (https://onlinelibrary.w
iley.com
/term
s-and-conditions) on W
iley O
nline L
ibrary for rules of use; O
A
articles are governed by the applicable C
reative C
om
m
ons L
icense
http://www.montefiore.ulg.ac.be/~phillips/FASST.html
http://www.montefiore.ulg.ac.be/~phillips/FASST.html
stages, were determined for the beginning, middle and end
of the sleep opportunity manipulation period (nights M1, M4
and M7).
Statistical analyses
Independent-samples t-tests were used to determine group
differences in performance, KSS score and sleep. To
determine the contribution of sleep in the night immediately
before the misinformation paradigm, and the cumulative
effects of sleep loss during the manipulation period to false
memory formation, PSG analyses focused on sleep param-
eters for the last manipulation night and the average across
the three PSG-recorded manipulation nights. Pearson corre-
lations were used to examine the associations between sleep
and false memory formation.
RESULTS
Experiment 1
Actigraphically assessed sleep during the manipulation
period
The average TIB for the PSD group was 5.08 h
(SEM = 0.08 h), which was significantly shorter than the
7.89 h TIB (SEM = 0.04 h) of the control group (t38 = 32.57,
P < 0.001). Similarly, TST was also shorter for the PSD than
the control groups (4.67 � 0.11 h versus 6.92 � 0.14 h,
t38 = 12.63, P < 0.001). The TIB and TST of the TSD group
were 6.93 h (SEM = 0.22 h) and 6.17 h (SEM = 0.23 h),
respectively, indicating that these participants did not
lengthen their sleep prior to the night of TSD.
PVT and KSS
The number of lapses did not significantly differ across the
three groups in the PVT administered after the event-
encoding phase (F2,55 = 1.23, P = 0.300; Table 3), but a
significant group difference was found after the misinforma-
tion phase (F2,55 = 4.01, P = 0.024). Post hoc independent-
samples t-tests revealed that while the PSD and TSD groups
did not differ in the number of lapses (t36 = 0.59, P = 0.560),
these two groups had more lapses than the control group
(PSD versus control: t38 = 2.49, P = 0.022; TSD versus
control: t36 = 3.49, P = 0.002).
Partial sleep deprivation and TSD increased levels of
subjective sleepiness. A significant group difference in KSS
scores was found both after the event-encoding phase and the
misinformation phase (F2,55 = 8.16 and 8.61, P < 0.001), with
the PSD group (t38 = 3.22, P = 0.003; t38 = 3.65, P < 0.001)
and the TSD group (t36 = 3.61, P = 0.001; t36 = 3.35,
P = 0.002; Table 3) reporting being sleepier than the control
group. KSS scores were similar between the TSD and PSD
groups (t36 = 0.63, P = 0.532; t36 = 0.12, P = 0.904;
Table 3).
Misinformation paradigm
The three groups did not differ significantly in the correct
memory rate (F2,55 = 1.71, P = 0.191; Fig. 3a). Hence, nei-
ther PSD nor TSD affected the formation of veridical memory.
The misinformation consistent response rate increased
from the control group to the PSD group and the TSD group
(F2,55 = 4.27, P = 0.019; Fig. 3b). Post hoc independent-
samples t-tests revealed that the misinformation consistent
response rate was significantly higher in the TSD group than
in the control group (t36 = 3.07, P = 0.004). TSD had a large
effect on this false memory measure (Cohen’s d = 0.99). In
contrast, the difference between the PSD and the control
groups did not reach statistical significance (t38 = 1.68,
P = 0.101), although the size of this PSD effect was in the
medium range (d = 0.53).
To determine whether lower levels of vigilance and
higher levels of subjective sleepiness in the TSD group
relative to the control group contributed to the group
difference in the misinformation consistent response rate,
three ANCOVA analyses were performed. Upon partialling out
the group difference in sustained attention after the
misinformation phase, and subjective sleepiness after the
event-encoding phase and the misinformation phase sep-
arately, the misinformation consistent response rate
remained significantly higher in the TSD group
(F1,35 = 6.38, P = 0.016; F1,35 = 11.88, P = 0.001;
F1,35 = 9.20, P = 0.005). This suggests that the higher
misinformation consistent response rate after a night of
TSD could not be attributed to impaired sustained attention
or subjective alertness.
Figure 2. Protocol of Experiment 2. Both the control and the partial sleep deprivation (PSD) groups had three baseline nights of 9 h time in bed
(TIB), followed by a manipulation period of 7 nights, when TIB was reduced to 5 h for the PSD group but remained at 9 h for the control group.
After the manipulation period, the misinformation paradigm was administered.
ª 2016 The Authors. Journal of Sleep Research published by John Wiley & Sons Ltd on behalf of European Sleep Research Society.
Sleep deprivation and false memory 677
13652869, 2016, 6, D
ow
nloaded from
https://onlinelibrary.w
iley.com
/doi/10.1111/jsr.12436 by L
iberty U
niversity, W
iley O
nline L
ibrary on [27/02/2023]. See the T
erm
s and C
onditions (https://onlinelibrary.w
iley.com
/term
s-and-conditions) on W
iley O
nline L
ibrary for rules of use; O
A
articles are governed by the applicable C
reative C
om
m
ons L
icense
In 10–15% of the critical questions, participants incorpo-
rated misinformation from the narratives into their responses,
and misattributed the source of information as a photograph.
Although there was a trend in the expected direction, the
higher false memory rate in the PSD and TSD groups did not
reach significance when compared with the control group
(F2,55 = 1.70, P = 0.192; Fig. 3c).
Experiment 2
PSG-assessed sleep during the manipulation period
The PSD group had significantly shorter TST than the control
group on M7 and throughout the sleep opportunity manipu-
lation period (t52 = 50.72 and 61.70, P < 0.001; Table 4).
Stage N3 duration was similar between the two groups
(P = 0.095 and P = 0.572), but the duration of stage N1, N2
and rapid eye movement sleep was reduced in the PSD
group (P < 0.001; Table 4).
PVT and KSS
The PSD group showed more PVT lapses than the control
group (t52 = 7.00, P < 0.001; Table 5), revealing the impair-
ing effect of PSD on sustained attention. The PSD group
reported being sleepier than the control group, as evidenced
by a higher KSS score both after the event-encoding phase
and the misinformation phase (t50 = 5.01 and 4.68,
P < 0.001; Table 5).
Misinformation paradigm
The control and PSD groups did not differ significantly in the
correct memory rate (t52 = 0.64, P = 0.525; Fig. 4a). Hence,
PSD did not affect the formation of veridical memory.
The misinformation consistent response rate was signifi-
cantly higher in the PSD than in the control group (t52 = 2.01,
P < 0.050; Fig. 4b). This PSD effect was in the medium
range (d = 0.58). To determine whether this group difference
was associated with the detrimental effects of PSD on
sustained attention and subjective alertness, three ANCOVA
analyses were performed. After partialling out the effect of
PSD on the number of PVT lapses, this false memory
measure was no longer elevated in the PSD group
Table 3 Performance in the PVT and the KSS score in Experiment 1
Control group PSD group TSD group
F PMean SEM Mean SEM Mean SEM
PVT number of lapses
After event-encoding 1.65 0.59 6.20 2.99 3.94 1.29 1.23 0.300
After misinformation 1.90*,† 0.63 10.85* 3.54 8.44† 1.77 4.01 0.024
KSS score
After event-encoding 4.45*,† 0.43 6.30* 0.39 6.67† 0.44 8.16 <0.001
After misinformation 5.00*,† 0.45 7.10* 0.36 7.17† 0.46 8.61 <0.001
*,†Indicate significant contrasts of the PSD and TSD groups relative to the control group, respectively.
KSS, Karolinska Sleepiness Scale; PSD, partial sleep deprivation; PVT, Psychomotor Vigilance Task; SEM, standard error of the mean; TSD,
total sleep deprivation.
Figure 3. Performance in the misinformation paradigm in Experiment
1. Mean � SEM of (a) correct memory rate, (b) misinformation
consistent response rate, and (c) false memory rate of the control
group (white bar), the partial sleep deprivation (PSD) group (grey bar),
and the total sleep deprivation (TSD) group (black bar).
ª 2016 The Authors. Journal of Sleep Research published by John Wiley & Sons Ltd on behalf of European Sleep Research Society.
678 J. C. Lo et al.
13652869, 2016, 6, D
ow
nloaded from
https://onlinelibrary.w
iley.com
/doi/10.1111/jsr.12436 by L
iberty U
niversity, W
iley O
nline L
ibrary on [27/02/2023]. See the T
erm
s and C
onditions (https://onlinelibrary.w
iley.com
/term
s-and-conditions) on W
iley O
nline L
ibrary for rules of use; O
A
articles are governed by the applicable C
reative C
om
m
ons L
icense
(F1,51 = 2.38, P = 0.129), suggesting that poorer sustained
attention induced by PSD might contribute to the higher
misinformation consistent response rate. Upon partialling out
the effect of PSD on KSS score after the event-encoding
phase and the misinformation phase, respectively, the
misinformation consistent response rate remained signifi-
cantly higher in the PSD group (F1,49 = 5.03, P = 0.029;
F1,51 = 7.87, P = 0.007). Hence, higher levels of subjective
sleepiness in a sleep-deprived state could not account for the
elevation in false memory formation.
The two groups did not significantly differ in their false
memory rate (t52 = 0.82, P = 0.416; Fig. 4c), although as in
the young adults, this rate was in the anticipated direction.
Correlation with sleep macrostructure
Partial sleep deprivation shortened TST and altered sleep
macrostructure (Table 4), which might account for the
increased misinformation consistent response rate in
the PSD group. Pearson correlations were used to examine
the linear associations between sleep and this false memory
measure. However, because of the discontinuous nature of
these sleep variables (Fig. S1), correlational analyses could
not be conducted with the PSD and the control groups
combined.
Table 4 TST and sleep macrostructure in Experiment 2
Control group PSD group
t52 PMean SEM Mean SEM
TST (min)
M7 490.00 3.85 288.22 5.27 50.72 <0.001
M1, M4,
M7 average
485.92 3.10 284.25 1.05 61.70 <0.001
N1 sleep (min)
M7 16.10 1.23 3.46 0.43 9.69 <0.001
M1, M4,
M7 average
16.20 1.29 4.71 0.48 8.32 <0.001
N2 sleep (min)
M7 260.06 6.33 128.02 3.25 18.55 <0.001
M1, M4,
M7 average
256.99 4.84 129.43 2.97 22.47 <0.001
N3 sleep (min)
M7 98.19 5.54 109.26 17.29 1.71 0.095
M1, M4,
M7 average
98.85 4.97 102.16 3.03 0.57 0.572
Non-rapid eye movement sleep (min)
M7 374.35 5.17 240.74 3.02 22.31 <0.001
M1, M4,
M7 average
372.04 4.15 236.30 2.66 28.31 <0.001
Rapid eye movement sleep (min)
M7 115.65 4.84 47.48 3.09 12.14 <0.001
M1, M4,
M7 average
113.88 3.73 47.95 2.73 14.26 <0.001
M1, M4 and M7 represent the first, fourth and seventh nights
during the sleep opportunity manipulation period, respectively.
PSD, partial sleep deprivation; SEM; standard error of the mean;
TST, total sleep time.
Table 5 Performance in the PVT and the KSS score in
Experiment 2
Control
group PSD group
t PMean SEM Mean SEM
PVT number of lapses
After event-
encoding
2.60 0.73 20.48 2.45 7.00 <0.001
KSS score
After event-
encoding
5.75 0.34 7.82 0.25 5.01 <0.001
After
misinformation
5.80 0.32 7.82 0.30 4.68 <0.001
KSS, Karolinska Sleepiness Scale; PSD, partial sleep deprivation;
PVT, Psychomotor Vigilance Task; SEM, standard error of the
mean.
Figure 4. Performance in the misinformation paradigm in
Experiment 2. Mean � SEM of (a) correct memory rate, (b)
misinformation consistent response rate, and (c) false memory rate
of the control group (white bar) and the partial sleep deprivation
(PSD) group (grey bar).
ª 2016 The Authors. Journal of Sleep Research published by John Wiley & Sons Ltd on behalf of European Sleep Research Society.
Sleep deprivation and false memory 679
13652869, 2016, 6, D
ow
nloaded from
https://onlinelibrary.w
iley.com
/doi/10.1111/jsr.12436 by L
iberty U
niversity, W
iley O
nline L
ibrary on [27/02/2023]. See the T
erm
s and C
onditions (https://onlinelibrary.w
iley.com
/term
s-and-conditions) on W
iley O
nline L
ibrary for rules of use; O
A
articles are governed by the applicable C
reative C
om
m
ons L
icense
No significant association was found between misinforma-
tion consistent response rate and sleep parameters in the last
manipulation night for either the control or the PSD group
(P > 0.060; Table 6). Similarly, no significant relationships
were found between these measures across the entire sleep
opportunity manipulation period (P > 0.142; Table 6). These
null findings could be due to the limitation of range restriction
and the smaller sample sizes when analyses were performed
separately for each group.
DISCUSSION
Using the misinformation paradigm, it was found that partially
sleep-deprived adolescents were more likely to incorporate
misleading post-event information into their responses while
retrieving memories of the original event. This PSD effect in
adolescents was of comparable magnitude to that observed
in young adults. In young adults, the TSD effect was more
prominent than the effect of PSD. In contrast to these robust
effects on false memory, PSD and TSD did not appear to
affect veridical memory.
The TSD effect in young adults parallels the finding of
elevated false memory formation after a night of total sleep
loss (Frenda et al., 2014). Additionally, it was demonstrated
that in adolescents, false memory increased after multiple
nights of experimentally reduced sleep opportunity, which is
in line with a recent observation of higher tendency for false
memory formation after 1 night of self-reported short sleep
duration in young adults (Frenda et al., 2014). The propensity
to form false memories does not appear to be related to
higher levels of subjective sleepiness, neither does it appear
to be associated with a decline in vigilance. Decline in PVT
performance was comparable after TSD and PSD in young
adults, yet the effect size associated with false memory
formation following TSD was greater than that after PSD.
Furthermore, statistically, the number of lapses in the PVT
did not account for sleep loss-induced false memory forma-
tion uniformly in the two experiments.
In the present work, elevated false memory formation in
sleep-deprived individuals was likely a result of increased
faulty encoding. While sleep loss can potentially perturb
memory at both encoding and retrieval phases, the observa-
tion that poorer recognition can persist even after recovery
sleep (Yoo et al., 2007) suggests it is weaker encoding that
increases one’s susceptibility to retroactive interference.
According to this account, veridical memory might be
expected to be similarly affected by sleep loss. However,
here, the effect of sleep loss on veridical memory may be
masked by having veridical information presented again in
the narrative phase of the misinformation paradigm. This
would provide a second opportunity to encode information
that, if source-misattributed, could inflate veridical memory
score. Indeed, when declarative materials are presented only
once obviating re-learning, sleep deprivation at encoding can
result in poorer memory recognition (Yoo et al., 2007).
The comparable effect size of PSD on false memory
formation in adolescents and young adults, despite the
preservation of stage N3 sleep, challenges the notion that
adolescents’ memory can remain resilient to substantial
sleep curtailment as long as the amount of slow wave
sleep is not reduced (Voderholzer et al., 2011). Further-
more, in a sleep-deprived state, adolescents are as
vulnerable as young adults to the interfering effects of
misleading post-event information. More work in this area
is warranted as many East Asian adolescents sleep 1–2 h
less than their counterparts in Europe and Australia
(Gradisar et al., 2011; Olds et al., 2010), but continue to
excel in standardized measures of academic excellence
(Organization for Economic Co-operation and Develop-
ment, 2014). The latter has led many to dismiss sleep
curtailment as a negative factor weighing on memory and
academic performance. Another potential avenue for
research lies in investigating whether recovery sleep can
reduce false memory formation. Prior work suggests that
sleep-related consolidation may preferentially benefit
weaker memories (Drosopoulos et al., 2007), and can take
place for several nights after encoding (Schonauer et al.,
2015). This could potentially reduce memory impairment in
persons sleep-deprived at encoding. Another noteworthy
point is that the misinformation paradigm was administered
at different times of day in Experiments 1 and 2 (10:00 and
14:00 hours, respectively); yet, the effect size of PSD on
the misinformation consistent response rate was similar,
suggesting minimal circadian modulation of such effect
from late morning to early afternoon.
Table 6 Correlations between misinformation consistent
response rate and sleep
Control group PSD group
r P r P
TST
M7 �0.20 0.337 0.37 0.060
M1, M4, M7 average �0.18 0.396 0.17 0.369
Stage N1
M7 �0.04 0.855 0.18 0.379
M1, M4, M7 average 0.02 0.932 �0.04 0.829
Stage N2
M7 0.01 0.953 �0.32 0.099
M1, M4, M7 average �0.17 0.414 �0.28 0.142
Stage N3
M7 �0.06 0.770 0.25 0.218
M1, M4, M7 average 0.09 0.681 0.27 0.158
Stage non-rapid eye movement
M7 �0.06 0.775 �0.05 0.790
M1, M4, M7 average �0.09 0.668 �0.01 0.948
Stage rapid eye movement
M7 �0.10 0.651 0.17 0.388
M1, M4, M7 average �0.05 0.823 0.08 0.683
M1, M4 and M7 represent the first, fourth and seventh sleep
opportunity manipulation nights, respectively.
PSD, partial sleep deprivation; TST, total sleep time.
ª 2016 The Authors. Journal of Sleep Research published by John Wiley & Sons Ltd on behalf of European Sleep Research Society.
680 J. C. Lo et al.
13652869, 2016, 6, D
ow
nloaded from
https://onlinelibrary.w
iley.com
/doi/10.1111/jsr.12436 by L
iberty U
niversity, W
iley O
nline L
ibrary on [27/02/2023]. See the T
erm
s and C
onditions (https://onlinelibrary.w
iley.com
/term
s-and-conditions) on W
iley O
nline L
ibrary for rules of use; O
A
articles are governed by the applicable C
reative C
om
m
ons L
icense
In conclusion, multiple nights of restricted sleep result in an
increase in false memory formation in adolescents, a group
previously thought of as being resistant to cognitive impair-
ment arising from sleep loss. In young adults, false memory
formation is elevated after a night of TSD. Moreover, sleep
history should be factored in when considering the veracity of
eyewitness testimony.
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
The authors thank Ju Lynn Ong, Amiya Patanaik, and all the
research assistants at the Cognitive Neuroscience Labora-
tory for their assistance in data collection and PSG data
analyses. The authors thank James Cousins for his critical
comments and suggestions. The study was funded by
National Medical Research Council, Singapore (NMRC/
STaR/0004/2008 and NMRC/STaR/015/2013) and Far East
Organization.
AUTHOR CONTRIBUTIONS
J. C. Lo and M. W. L. Chee developed the study concept
and design. Data were collected by J. C. Lo, S. Ganesan,
P. L. H. Chong and R. L. F. Leong. J. C. Lo, S. Ganesan
and P. L. H. Chong performed the data analysis and
drafted the manuscript. M. W. L. Chee provided critical
revisions. All authors approved the final version of the
manuscript for submission.
CONFLICT OF INTEREST
The authors declare no conflict of interest.
REFERENCES
Akerstedt, T. and Gillberg, M. Subjective and objective sleepiness in
the active individual. Int. J. Neurosci., 1990, 52: 29–37.
Carskadon, M. A., Harvey, K. and Dement, W. C. Acute restriction of
nocturnal sleep in children. Percept. Mot. Skills, 1981, 53: 103–
112.
Cohen, J. Statistical Power Analysis for the Behavioral Sciences, 2nd
edn. Lawrence Erlbaum Associates, Hillsdale, NJ, 1988.
Diekelmann, S. and Born, J. The memory function of sleep. Nat. Rev.
Neurosci., 2010, 11: 114–126.
Diekelmann, S., Landolt, H. P., Lahl, O., Born, J. and Wagner, U.
Sleep loss produces false memories. PLoS ONE, 2008, 3: e3512.
Diekelmann, S., Born, J. and Wagner, U. Sleep enhances false
memories depending on general memory performance. Behav.
Brain Res., 2010, 208: 425–429.
Dinges, D. F. and Powell, J. W. Microcomputer analyses of
performance on a portable, simple visual RT task during sustained
operations. Behav. Res. Methods Instrum. Comput., 1985, 17:
652–655.
Do, Y. K., Shin, E., Bautista, M. A. and Foo, K. The associations
between self-reported sleep duration and adolescent health
outcomes: what is the role of time spent on Internet use? Sleep
Med., 2013, 14: 195–200.
Drosopoulos, S., Schulze, C., Fischer, S. and Born, J. Sleep’s
function in the spontaneous recovery and consolidation of mem-
ories. J. Exp. Psychol. Gen., 2007, 136: 169–183.
Fallone, G., Acebo, C., Arnedt, J. T., Seifer, R. and Carskadon, M. A.
Effects of acute sleep restriction on behavior, sustained attention,
and response inhibition in children. Percept. Mot. Skills, 2001, 93:
213–229.
Fenn, K. M., Gallo, D. A., Margoliash, D., Roediger, H. L. 3rd and
Nusbaum, H. C. Reduced false memory after sleep. Learn. Mem.,
2009, 16: 509–513.
Frenda, S. J., Nichols, R. M. and Loftus, E. F. Current issues and
advances in misinformation research. Curr. Dir. Psychol. Sci.,
2011, 20: 20–23.
Frenda, S. J., Patihis, L., Loftus, E. F., Lewis, H. C. and Fenn, K. M.
Sleep deprivation and false memories. Psychol. Sci., 2014, 25:
1674–1681.
Gradisar, M., Gardner, G. and Dohnt, H. Recent worldwide sleep
patterns and problems during adolescence: a review and meta-
analysis of age, region, and sleep. Sleep Med., 2011, 12: 110–118.
Horne, J. A. and Ostberg, O. A self-assessment questionnaire to
determine morningness-eveningness in human circadian rhythms.
Int. J. Chronobiol., 1976, 4: 97–110.
Iber, C., Ancoli-Israel, S., Chesson, A. and Quan, S. F. The AASM
Manual for the Scoring of Sleep and Associated Events: rules,
Terminology, and Technical Specification, 1st edn. American
Academy of Sleep Medicine, Westchester, IL, 2007.
Kopasz, M., Loessl, B., Valerius, G. et al. No persisting effect of
partial sleep curtailment on cognitive performance and declarative
memory recall in adolescents. J. Sleep Res., 2010, 19: 71–79.
Lo, J. C., Groeger, J. A., Santhi, N. et al. Effects of partial and acute
total sleep deprivation on performance across cognitive domains,
individuals and circadian phase. PLoS ONE, 2012, 7: e45987.
Lo, J. C., Dijk, D. J. and Groeger, J. A. Comparing the effects of
nocturnal sleep and daytime napping on declarative memory
consolidation. PLoS ONE, 2014a, 9: e108100.
Lo, J. C., Sim, S. K. and Chee, M. W. Sleep reduces false memory in
healthy older adults. Sleep, 2014b, 37: 665–671.
Lo, J. C., Ong, J. L., Leong, R. L. F., Gooley, J. J. and Chee, M. W. L.
Cognitive performance, sleepiness, and mood in partially sleep
deprived adolescents: the Need for Sleep Study. Sleep, 2016, 39:
687–698.
Loftus, E. F., Miller, D. G. and Burns, H. J. Semantic integration of
verbal information into a visual memory. J. Exp. Psychol. Hum.
Learn., 1978, 4: 19–31.
McKeon, S., Pace-Schott, E. F. and Spencer, R. M. Interaction of
sleep and emotional content on the production of false memories.
PLoS ONE, 2012, 7: e49353.
Neisser, U. and Harsch, N. Phantom flashbulbs: false recollections of
hearing the news about Challenger. In: E. Winograd and U. Neisser
(Eds) Affect and Accuracy in Recall: Studies of ‘Flashbulb’
Memories. Cambridge University Press, New York, NY, 1992: 9–31.
Netzer, N. C., Stoohs, R. A., Netzer, C. M., Clark, K. and Strohl, K. P.
Using the Berlin Questionnaire to identify patients at risk for the
sleep apnea syndrome. Ann. Intern. Med., 1999, 131: 485–491.
Ohida, T., Osaki, Y., Doi, Y. et al. An epidemiologic study of self-
reported sleep problems among Japanese adolescents. Sleep,
2004, 27: 978–985.
Okado, Y. and Stark, C. E. Neural activity during encoding predicts
false memories created by misinformation. Learn. Mem., 2005, 12:
3–11.
Olds, T., Blunden, S., Petkov, J. and Forchino, F. The relationships
between sex, age, geography and time in bed in adolescents: a
meta-analysis of data from 23 countries. Sleep Med. Rev., 2010,
14: 371–378.
Organization for Economic Co-Operation and Development. PISA
2012 Results in Focus: What 15-year-olds Know and What They
Can do with What They Know. Organization for Economic Co-
Operation and Development, Paris, France, 2014.
Payne, J. D., Schacter, D. L., Propper, R. E. et al. The role of sleep in
falsememory formation.Neurobiol. Learn.Mem., 2009, 92:327–334.
ª 2016 The Authors. Journal of Sleep Research published by John Wiley & Sons Ltd on behalf of European Sleep Research Society.
Sleep deprivation and false memory 681
13652869, 2016, 6, D
ow
nloaded from
https://onlinelibrary.w
iley.com
/doi/10.1111/jsr.12436 by L
iberty U
niversity, W
iley O
nline L
ibrary on [27/02/2023]. See the T
erm
s and C
onditions (https://onlinelibrary.w
iley.com
/term
s-and-conditions) on W
iley O
nline L
ibrary for rules of use; O
A
articles are governed by the applicable C
reative C
om
m
ons L
icense
Payne, J. D., Tucker, M. A., Ellenbogen, J. M. et al. Memory for
semantically related and unrelated declarative information: the
benefit of sleep, the cost of wake. PLoS ONE, 2012, 7: e33079.
Rasch, B., Buchel, C., Gais, S. and Born, J. Odor cues during slow-
wave sleep prompt declarative memory consolidation. Science,
2007, 315: 1426–1429.
Roediger, H. L. and McDermott, K. B. Creating false memories:
remembering words not presented in lists. J. Exp. Psychol. Learn.
Mem. Cogn., 1995, 21: 803–814.
Schonauer, M., Gratsch, M. and Gais, S. Evidence for two distinct
sleep-related long-term memory consolidation processes. Cortex,
2015, 63: 68–78.
Steptoe, A., Peacey, V. and Wardle, J. Sleep duration and health in
young adults. Arch. Intern. Med., 2006, 166: 1689–1692.
Stickgold, R. and Walker, M. P. Sleep-dependent memory triage:
evolving generalization through selective processing. Nat. Neu-
rosci., 2013, 16: 139–145.
Tamminen, J., Payne, J. D., Stickgold, R., Wamsley, E. J. and
Gaskell, M. G. Sleep spindle activity is associated with the
integration of new memories and existing knowledge. J. Neurosci.,
2010, 30: 14356–14360.
Van Dongen, H. P., Maislin, G., Mullington, J. M. and Dinges, D. F.
The cumulative cost of additional wakefulness: dose-response
effects on neurobehavioral functions and sleep physiology from
chronic sleep restriction and total sleep deprivation. Sleep, 2003,
26: 117–126.
Voderholzer, U., Piosczyk, H., Holz, J. et al. Sleep restriction over
several days does not affect long-term recall of declarative
and procedural memories in adolescents. Sleep Med., 2011, 12:
170–178.
Yoo, S. S., Hu, P. T., Gujar, N., Jolesz, F. A. and Walker, M. P. A
deficit in the ability to form new human memories without sleep.
Nat. Neurosci., 2007, 10: 385–392.
SUPPORTING INFORMATION
Additional Supporting Information may be found online in the
supporting information tab for this article:
Figure S1. Relationship between misinformation consis-
tent response rate and sleep.
ª 2016 The Authors. Journal of Sleep Research published by John Wiley & Sons Ltd on behalf of European Sleep Research Society.
682 J. C. Lo et al.
13652869, 2016, 6, D
ow
nloaded from
https://onlinelibrary.w
iley.com
/doi/10.1111/jsr.12436 by L
iberty U
niversity, W
iley O
nline L
ibrary on [27/02/2023]. See the T
erm
s and C
onditions (https://onlinelibrary.w
iley.com
/term
s-and-conditions) on W
iley O
nline L
ibrary for rules of use; O
A
articles are governed by the applicable C
reative C
om
m
ons L
icense
COMP R E H EN S I V E R E V I EW
Induction of false beliefs and false memories in laboratory
studies—A systematic review
Beate Muschalla | Fabian Schönborn
Institute of Psychology, Technische Universität
Braunschweig, Braunschweig, Germany
Correspondence
Prof. Dr. Beate Muschalla, Technische
Universität Braunschweig, Institute of
Psychology, Humboldtstraße 33, 38106
Braunschweig, Germany.
Email: b.muschalla@tu-braunschweig.de
Abstract
Psychological interventions often use guided discovery and other techniques for
diagnostic exploration and intervention planning. This way, memories may arise in
the person, which may be true or false. False memories of earlier events can be harm-
ful and result in real suffering, similar to actual traumatic memories. Based on cogni-
tive psychological and psycho-traumatological findings, there is pronounced dissent
in the academic disciplines regarding the conceptualization, relevance and research
of false memories. This review contributes to the basic question of how often false
beliefs and false memories may be induced within the frame of different interactional
techniques. A systematic review has been conducted of 59 articles from (quasi-)
experimental studies and two qualitative sources from 30 data bases. Three main
methods of memory induction provide the basis for reporting: imagination inflation,
false feedback, and memory implantation. Due to the conceptual and methodological
diversity of the studies, the results appear to be heterogeneous. Free and guided
imagery, as well as suggestive statements, could induce false beliefs or false memo-
ries in, on average, 20%–50% of the participants who underwent experimental
manipulation concerning false past events. A false belief induction may occur after
dream interpretation or hypnosis in more than 50% of participants. Personalized sug-
gestion is more effective in inducing memory than the general plausibility of the
suggested events. Further research questions are which therapeutic actions seem
appropriate in cases of harmful false memories. This depends not only on whether
there are veridical elements in the false memory but also on the quality and meaning
of the memory for the person’s life and ability to cope with burdens.
K E YWORD S
false beliefs, false memories, guided imagery, memory induction, side effects, suggestion
1 | INTRODUCTION
False belief is present when an individual is erroneously convinced that
an event has happened to or with them earlier in their life, even if
they previously had no idea that this event had happened and also
had no pre-existing memories in terms of pictures, sensations, or
details of the event. False memories can be defined as false beliefs
about such past events which are experienced not only as facts but
Received: 5 January 2021 Revised: 23 January 2021 Accepted: 25 January 2021
DOI: 10.1002/
cpp.2567
This is an open access article under the terms of the Creative Commons Attribution?NonCommercial?NoDerivs L
icense
, which permits use and distribution in any
medium, provided the original work is properly cited, the use is non?commercial and no modifications or adaptations are made.
© 2020 The Authors. Clinical Psychology & Psychotherapy published by John Wiley & Sons Ltd
1194 Clin Psychol Psychother. 2021;28:1194–1209.wileyonlinelibrary.com/journal/cpp
10990879, 2021, 5, D
ow
nloaded from
https://onlinelibrary.w
iley.com
/doi/10.1002/cpp.2567 by L
iberty U
niversity, W
iley O
nline L
ibrary on [27/02/2023]. See the T
erm
s and C
onditions (https://onlinelibrary.w
iley.com
/term
s-and-conditions) on W
iley O
nline L
ibrary for rules of use; O
A
articles are governed by the applicable C
reative C
om
m
ons L
icense
https://orcid.org/0000-0001-5285-6618
mailto:b.muschalla@tu-braunschweig.de
https://doi.org/10.1002/cpp.2567
http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-nd/4.0/
http://wileyonlinelibrary.com/journal/cpp
http://crossmark.crossref.org/dialog/?doi=10.1002%2Fcpp.2567&domain=pdf&date_stamp=2021-02-20
also as memories (Lampinen, Neuschatz, & Payne, 1998), that is, with
details of the people involved, sensations, process of the event,
and
so on.
False beliefs and false memories concerning earlier events (which
did not happen) can be mainly understood as phenomena of memory
disorders. They may appear as phenomena of confabulation or param-
nesia, to use the psychopathological nomenclature. Because cognitive
interventions, such as those used in coaching, training, or psychother-
apy, are basically understood as the modification of memories by
means of specific talk (motivational interviewing, cognitive reframing,
cognitive rescripting, and guided imagery), false beliefs and false mem-
ories play an important role in psychological interventions.
Psychological interventions are well-established ways of improv-
ing mental health or changing behaviour; they are able to achieve pos-
itive effects on mental health or behaviour. There is still a widespread
assumption that this type of intervention, characterized by “talking,”
does not lead to undesired or negative side effects because “talking”
is noninvasive and cannot cause damage. However, current findings
show that both expected side effects and undesired effects can occur
in coaching and psychotherapeutic treatment, due to correct
(Linden & Schermuly-Haupt, 2014; Schermuly & Graßmann, 2019) or
incorrect interventions.
One type of undesirable effect relates to the development of
false beliefs or false memories of events. These events did not happen
but are sometimes used as an explanation for current psychological
problems people experience. People with induced false
memories
become aware of memories of events that they did not experience, by
mixing various influences. Meanwhile, memories of past experiences
can reactivate the emotions originally experienced (Pohl, 2007). This
may result in potentially harmful consequences, for example, disliking
or avoiding people or situations associated with the (false) memories.
False memories might be accompanied by emotions that are strongly
compelling (McNally et al., 2004). Lieberei and Linden (2008) pres-
ented a case in which a patient developed a false memory and a fully
fledged posttraumatic stress disorder with intrusions, vivid memory
pictures, and avoidance behaviour, after having participated in a
follow-up course in which her colleagues’ fatal accident was dis-
cussed. Brainerd and Reyna (2005) reported further cases in which
intrafamily abuse in early childhood was suggested to patients under-
going psychotherapy, which caused the patients to break off contact
with their families and assume the roles of abuse victims.
Because there has been little systematic synthesis of what is
known about the induction of false memories, the present review
study tries to systematize how and with what frequency, false beliefs,
and false memories can be induced.
An earlier systematic review on false memories (Brewin &
Andrews, 2017) reports relevant research paradigms for inducing false
memories of early childhood events in adults in an experimental situa-
tion. The mechanisms by which false memories could be induced in
laboratory studies, relate to (i) imagination inflation (the repeated imag-
ination of events that did not actually happen), (ii) false feedback (con-
veying suggestive misinformation in a talk), and (iii) memory
implantation (through manipulated photographs or false statements by
relevant caregivers, Scoboria et al., 2017). It was possible to identify
characteristics for assessing the quality of induced memory. According
to these, the quality of induced memory can be evaluated in ascend-
ing order, as follows: (i) the conviction that an event occurred, (ii) the
subjective re-experience of a (false) memory in such a way that it is
believed to be true, and (iii) the belief that the memory is true. The last
two points must be fulfilled for an induced memory to be qualitatively
similar to a “real” memory (Brewer, 1986; Brewin & Andrews, 2017).
The research question in this present review is as follows:
In how many people do different memory induction techniques
(imagination inflation, false feedback, memory implantation) lead to a
successful induction of false beliefs and false memories?
Investigations using the imagination inflation paradigm are essen-
tially based on the induction of false memories or false beliefs, which
are primarily caused by the test person or patient’s imagination. These
imaginations are guided and supported by the person conducting the
experiment. In the misinformation paradigm, the induction and thus
suggestive potential is even more under the influence of the
researchers. Accordingly, Loftus and Mazzoni (1998) even called it an
expert-personalized suggestion paradigm. The induction is essentially
based on the authority and the supposed knowledge attributed by the
respondent to himself. In the case of implantation, the induction takes
place using similar mechanisms as in the case of misinformation. How-
ever, here the authority and suggestive potential usually lies less with
the leader of the experiment than with the subject’s parents (who
report true and false events before the experiment) or with the valid-
ity of manipulated childhood photographs.
An earlier and so far, first, attempt to summarize the effectiveness
and extent of false memory induction can be found in Brewin and
Andrews (2017). They state that the paradigms of imagination infla-
tion, false feedback, and implantation, mentioned above, are most likely
to simulate the clinical context, allow replication in the laboratory, and
can also be justified in respect to ethical considerations. Brewin and
Andrews (2017) found that in the majority of research participants,
these mentioned research paradigms do not elicit false memories. The
authors concluded: “On the one hand, it has provided a valuable
Key Practitioner Message
• It is the trainer or therapist’s duty to help clients to
change, reframe, and form their memories, as clients’
complaints often pertain to autobiographical memories.
• However, different exploratory techniques (guided imag-
ery, suggestive statements, hypnosis, and dream interpre-
tation) can increase the probability of potentially harmful
false beliefs or false memories being induced in on aver-
age 20%–50% of those exposed to false event induction.
• Any memory work and reframing during coaching, train-
ing, and psychotherapy should be done in a way that
enables the client to cope better with life and avoid the
induction of harmful false beliefs or false memories.
MUSCHALLA AND SCHÖNBORN 1195
10990879, 2021, 5, D
ow
nloaded from
https://onlinelibrary.w
iley.com
/doi/10.1002/cpp.2567 by L
iberty U
niversity, W
iley O
nline L
ibrary on [27/02/2023]. See the T
erm
s and C
onditions (https://onlinelibrary.w
iley.com
/term
s-and-conditions) on W
iley O
nline L
ibrary for rules of use; O
A
articles are governed by the applicable C
reative C
om
m
ons L
icense
demonstration that compelling false memories can sometimes be cre-
ated even with the restrictions imposed by laboratory research. […]
On the other hand, we believe it cannot be concluded that false mem-
ories of childhood events possessing these characteristics are com-
mon, that they are easy to suggest or implant or that the majority of
individuals are susceptible to them.” (p. 20).
However, the methodological procedure in Brewin and
Andrews (2017) does not correspond fully to the standard of a sys-
tematic review, as they did not explicitly apply the PRISMA reporting
guidelines and did not report the precise search strategy. Thus, the
procedure of this present analysis is intended to adopt the memory
induction paradigms introduced above (Brewin & Andrews, 2017) and
identify and synthesize the relevant literature on the current princi-
ples and standards of a systematic review, using English and German
language sources.
2 | METHOD
A systematic literature search was conducted in 30 data bases. Arti-
cles in the English and German languages, from 1970 to 2019, were
included. The data bases and the search terms used are reported in
supporting information Table S1. In accordance with the PICO search
scheme (Person, Phenomenon of interest, context; Nordhausen &
Hirt, 2018), the search terms listed in the supporting
information
Table S2 were used.
All the articles from the literature search of which the topics were
in any way associated with psychotherapeutic settings or action and
were included as valid search results. This includes theoretical and
empirical articles, both in the context of experimental laboratory
research and of clinical practice. Furthermore, the false beliefs and
false memories investigated were categorized according to the con-
cepts of false belief, false memory, and autobiographical memory con-
tent. Only primary sources in the German or English language have
been considered (Figure 1).
Articles referring to neurophysiological measurements, neurologi-
cal diseases (e.g. dementia) or developmental disorders (e.g. autism)
have been excluded. Articles discussing false memories in the context
of substance-induced disorders or schizophrenic forms of disorder
have also been excluded, together with all articles referring to forensic
work as an expert witness in legal proceedings, for example, in
assessing the credibility of statements. Forensic articles were only
included if the forensic methods were used or discussed in a thera-
peutic context. The articles were also excluded if the false memories
were related to false recognition or generally to semantic memory
content. Furthermore, findings related to investigations of traumatic
F IGURE 1 Outcome of systematic
literature search for false memories according
to the defined search terms in 30 international
databases
1196 MUSCHALLA AND SCHÖNBORN
10990879, 2021, 5, D
ow
nloaded from
https://onlinelibrary.w
iley.com
/doi/10.1002/cpp.2567 by L
iberty U
niversity, W
iley O
nline L
ibrary on [27/02/2023]. See the T
erm
s and C
onditions (https://onlinelibrary.w
iley.com
/term
s-and-conditions) on W
iley O
nline L
ibrary for rules of use; O
A
articles are governed by the applicable C
reative C
om
m
ons L
icense
false memories were excluded if they were discussed in the context
of childhood development. Finally, all articles with anonymous authors
were excluded, as were those for which no abstract was available,
unless the article’s title suggested an inclusion criterion.
3 | RESULTS
3.1 | Induction of false memories
The question of the induction of false memories is the area that has
been most intensively researched and probably has the highest level
of evidence. There were 59 articles involving 75 separate studies and
a total N of 7,062 participants from randomized experiments or quasi-
experiments (Figure 1). Of the total 59 sources, 21 were based on the
imagination inflation research paradigm; a further 18 refer to the
misinformation paradigm and 20 to the implantation paradigm.
3.2 | Imagination inflation paradigm
Making a synthesis from research using the imagination inflation para-
digm (Table 3) is challenging. Although all the investigations refer to
the same research approach and predominantly simulate the same
interactional techniques, there is enormous variability in the
approaches: It was only possible to highlight three sources in which
an experiment and an appropriate differentiation of false beliefs and
false memories were performed (Paddock et al., 2000; Paddock &
Terranova, 2001; Mazzoni & Memon, 2003).
The sample size-weighted average percentage of research partici-
pants who developed false beliefs was 55.3% over three studies
(Heaps & Nash, 1999; Horselenberg et al., 2000; Sharman, Garry, &
Hunt, 2005, Table 1), and the sample size-weighted average percent-
age for falsely believed events (stimuli) was 33.3% over 10 studies
(Bays, Foley, & Zabrucky, 2013; Bays, Zabrucky, & Gagne, 2012;
Clancy, McNally, & Schacter, 1999; Garry, Manning, Loftus, &
Sherman, 1996; Paddock et al., 1998, 1999; Pezdek, Blandon-Gitlin, &
Gabbay, 2006; Pezdek & Eddy, 2001).
It can be assumed from the sources included in this analysis that
free and guided imagination can lead to the adoption of false memo-
ries or false beliefs by up to 33%–55% of the manipulated partici-
pants. On the other hand, some studies have also shown that
induction is not possible or even that deflation of the presented mate-
rial must be assumed. Based on the idea that there is normally a cer-
tain overlap between a belief in the truth of an event and an
individual memory (nested model proposed by Scoboria, Mazzoni,
Kirsch, & Relyea, 2004), it can still be assumed that an induction rate
about 33%–55% may be the upper limit, but we do not know the pre-
cise prevalence. According to the original studies, rates do also vary
between about 20% and 47% of participants. Furthermore, tech-
niques that use both free and guided imagery in combination with
journaling (writing about the event and the associated feelings and
thoughts) appear to exhibit greater inductive effects. The imagination
of an episode from the observer’s perspective also has a stronger
effect than imagining it from the ego perspective (Table 1).
3.3 | False feedback
On the basis of the available data, false memory induction by using
dream interpretations and suggestive statements (Table 2) to increase
the plausibility of events varies from 18% to >80%. Some studies
report induction rates of more than 50% of participants, while this
effect is not apparent at all in others. The problem here is that the
methods used to induce false memories were not identical across the
studies and are also not always clearly recognizable. However, the fact
that the simulated therapeutic methods lead to a change in conviction,
even though a low level of conviction was assumed initially, is well-
replicated in the original studies. The adoption of a changed convic-
tion can persist over a longer period of time. The plausibility of
events
is also important, so that it is less the knowledge of specific events that
leads to a change and more the probability that an event might have
happened to one personally. There is a tendency for general
plausibility
to be less effective than personalized suggestion. This in accordance
with the model of related convictions and memories (Scoboria
et al., 2004).
In sum, the sample size-weighted average percentage of
research participants who developed false beliefs was 32.5% over
13 studies (Berkowitz, Laney, Morris, Garry, & Loftus, 2008;
Bernstein, Laney, Morris, & Loftus, 2005; Clifasefi, Bernstein,
Mantonakis, & Loftus, 2013; Geraerts et al., 2008; Hart &
Schooler, 2006; Laney, Fowler, Nelson, Bernstein, & Loftus, 2008;
Mazzoni, Loftus, & Kirsch, 2001; Mazzoni, Loftus, Seitz, &
Lynn, 1999; Scoboria, Lynn, Hessen, & Fisico, 2007, 2012a,b).
The sample size-weighted average percentage of research
participants who developed false memories was 11.28% over six
studies (Geraerts et al., 2008; Hart & Schooler, 2006; Laney &
Loftus, 2008; Laney, Morris, Bernstein, Wakefield, &
Loftus, 2008; Scoboria et al., 2007; Scoboria, Mazzoni, Jarry, &
Bernstein, 2012).
3.4 | Memory implantation
There is a partially varying understanding of false memory. This makes
it difficult to make a coherent statement about whether and to what
extent the induction of a false memory can arise through the tech-
niques used. Additionally, some authors relate the percentage results
to the participating subjects, while others relate their results to the
number of falsely remembered items. This means that even the odds
presented cannot be compared. However, on the basis of the avail-
able data (Table 3), it can at least be claimed that a change was mea-
sured in each study, which, if the results are interpreted
conservatively, can only be interpreted as a change in the belief that
an event had happened. Suggested content has a greater effect if it
contains personal material and thus has a higher self-reference. The
MUSCHALLA AND SCHÖNBORN 1197
10990879, 2021, 5, D
ow
nloaded from
https://onlinelibrary.w
iley.com
/doi/10.1002/cpp.2567 by L
iberty U
niversity, W
iley O
nline L
ibrary on [27/02/2023]. See the T
erm
s and C
onditions (https://onlinelibrary.w
iley.com
/term
s-and-conditions) on W
iley O
nline L
ibrary for rules of use; O
A
articles are governed by the applicable C
reative C
om
m
ons L
icense
TABLE 1 False belief or false memory induction by imagination inflation
Author (year) Type of study Sample
Simulated memory
induction
technique Results
Paddock et al. (1998) Experiment Study 1: 98 undergraduate
psychology students, average
age 19 years, 76% wo
men
Study 2: 106 volunteers from a
manufacturing plant, aged
13–47 years, 63%
women
Guided imagery Study 1: False beliefs increased
in up to 38% of imagined
events on life events
inventory (LEI)
Study 2: No increase of false
beliefs after imagined events
(no percentages reported)
Clancy et al. (1999) Experiment Sample 1: 12 women from
general population who
reported being abused as a
child and
Sample 2: 12 women who
reported not being abused,
average age 37 years
Guided imagery Sample 1: False beliefs
increased in 20% of events
Sample 2: False beliefs
increased in up to 25% of
events
Heaps and Nash (1999) Experiment 55
psychology students, aged
22 years, 61.8% women
Hypnosis and guided imagery 44% of participants had positive
changes in the sense of false
beliefs after intervention,
42% had no change
Paddock et al. (1999) Experiment 94
undergraduate psychology
students, aged 21 years, 56%
men
Guided imagery False beliefs increased in 47%
of imagined events on life
events inventory (LEI)
Spanos, Burgess,
Burgess, Samuels, and
Blois (1999)
Experiment 117 undergraduate psychology
students, 65% women
Hypnosis with and without
regression
79% of the hypnotic
participants and 95% of the
nonhypnotic induction
participants reported rich and
detailed false infancy
memories, such as seeing
bright lights, bars on their
crips, and doctors and nurses
wearing masks
Horselenberg
et al. (2000)
Experiment Study 1: 34 undergraduate
psychology students, 85%
women
Study 2: 45 students, 66%
women, aged 16–20 years
Free imagery and journaling Study 1: Percentage of
participants with increased
probability ratings for
imagined event items: 38%
Study 2: Journaling with free
imagery had tendentially
greater effects than
imagery
without journaling. Journaling
effects were independent of
personality.
Paddock, Terranova,
Kwok, and
Halpern (2000)
Experiment Experiment 1: 125
undergraduate students from
an engineering school, aged
21 years, 51% men
Experiment2:143students from
thesameengineeringschool,
aged20 years,94men
Guided imagery Experiment 1: Guided imagery
lead participants to rate
known childhood events
closer to events for which
they had memories.
Experiment 2: Known-to-
remember-shift were
stronger in case of higher
extraversion, external locus
of control, a memory than
conveyed fear, overall
affective content
Paddock and
Terranova (2001)
Experiment 359 undergraduate students,
48% men, aged 20 years
Guided imagery Guided imagery lead on average
to change of beliefs into false
memory; this effect was
stronger in conditions where
the imagery intervention was
done by an authority/expert
person
1198 MUSCHALLA AND SCHÖNBORN
10990879, 2021, 5, D
ow
nloaded from
https://onlinelibrary.w
iley.com
/doi/10.1002/cpp.2567 by L
iberty U
niversity, W
iley O
nline L
ibrary on [27/02/2023]. See the T
erm
s and C
onditions (https://onlinelibrary.w
iley.com
/term
s-and-conditions) on W
iley O
nline L
ibrary for rules of use; O
A
articles are governed by the applicable C
reative C
om
m
ons L
icense
TABLE 1 (Continued)
Author (year) Type of study Sample
Simulated memory induction
technique Results
Mazzoni and
Memon (2003)
Experiment 82 students, 35% men, aged
21 years
Free imagery False memories of impossible
childhood events occurred in
up to 25%–50% of
participants after imagery
Von Glahn et al. (2012) Experiment Experiment 1: 59
undergraduate psychology
students, aged 19 years, 42%
men
Experiment 2: 60
participants
(out of the experiment 1
group)
Repeated interviews, free
imagery and journaling
Repeated interviews (5 times
being asked a list of events
that might have happened)
did not lead to induction of
false beliefs.
Journaling lead to significant
increase in confidence of
certain events (false beliefs)
dependent on the amount of
memory details which had to
be written down (3 or 6
details)
Garry et al. (1996)
Quasi-
experiment
46 undergraduate psychology
students
Guided imagery False beliefs increased in 32%
of imagined events on life
events inventory (LEI)
Pezdek and Eddy (2001) Quasi-
experiment
75 persons, consisting of older
(76 years) and younger
(21 years) adults
Free imagery False beliefs increased in 39%
of imagined events on life
events inventory (LEI). No
age differences in inflation
rates
Sharman et al. (2005) Quasi-
experiment
128 undergraduate psychology
students
Suggestive expressions and
guided imagery (ego
perspective and observer
perspective)
In 65% of participants,
confidence increased for
imagined events from the live
events inventory
False beliefs appear stronger
when an observer
perspective is used during
imagery, as compared to ego
perspective
Pezdek, Blandon-Gitlin,
and Gabbay (2006)
Quasi-
experiment
145 undergraduate students,
aged 22 years, 69% females
Guided imagery and journaling False beliefs rather appears
when highly plausible events
are used for induction (38%
of events increased) in
comparison to low plausible
events (21% of events
increased)
Bays et al. (2013) Quasi-
experiment
151 undergraduate students,
74% women
Guided imagery and journaling 26.7% increased belief ratings
of specific events, 15%
decreased belief rating of
specific events
Sharman and
Powell (2013)
Quasi-
experiment
126 university members, aged
18–64 years, 69% women
Cognitive interview No significant induction of false
belief or false memory,
independent from the fact if
an event was rated as highly
or low plausible
Sharman, Garry, and
Beuke (2004)
Quasi-
experiment
(several
groups)
67 undergraduate psychology
students
Free imagery and paraphrasing Participants became more
confident that the fictitious
events had happened in
childhood (regardless of
whether imagined or
paraphrased). No repetition
effect was found beyond that
of a single exposure
(Continues)
MUSCHALLA AND SCHÖNBORN 1199
10990879, 2021, 5, D
ow
nloaded from
https://onlinelibrary.w
iley.com
/doi/10.1002/cpp.2567 by L
iberty U
niversity, W
iley O
nline L
ibrary on [27/02/2023]. See the T
erm
s and C
onditions (https://onlinelibrary.w
iley.com
/term
s-and-conditions) on W
iley O
nline L
ibrary for rules of use; O
A
articles are governed by the applicable C
reative C
om
m
ons L
icense
effect of an induction is also stronger if the suggestion is based on
plausible statements made by significant reference persons. Manipu-
lated photographs may also induce false beliefs but these false beliefs
appear to be less pronounced. Finally, contrary to the nested model
proposed by Scoboria et al. (2004), false memories can also arise of
events for which there was no pre-existing belief and which the sub-
jects had previously assessed as unlikely.
Summarized, the sample size-weighted average percentage of
research participants who developed false beliefs was 37% over
11 studies (French, Sutherland, & Garry, 2006; Hyman, Husband, &
Billings, 1995; Ost, Foster, Costall, & Bull, 2005; Otgaar, Scoboria, &
Smeets, 2013; Pezdek, Finger, & Hodge, 1997; Shaw & Porter, 2015;
Short & Bodner, 2011; Wade, Garry, Nash, & Harper, 2010; Wade,
Garry, Read, & Lindsay, 2002) and 26.6% over 12 studies for false
memories induction (Desjardins & Scoboria, 2007; French et al., 2006;
Garry & Wade, 2005; Heaps & Nash, 2001; Hessen-Kayfitz &
Scoboria, 2012; Lindsay, Hagen, Read, Wade, & Garry, 2004; Ost
et al., 2005; Otgaar et al., 2013; Pezdek et al., 1997; Porter, Yuille, &
Lehman, 1999; Qin, Ogle, & Goodman, 2008; Short & Bodner, 2011).
The sample size-weighted average percentage for falsely believed
events was 35% over two studies (Hyman & Pentland, 1996; Qin
et al., 2008).
4 | DISCUSSION
On the basis of the studies analysed, it can be assumed that an induc-
tion of false memories is favoured by various conditions which vary
widely in each case. Furthermore, it is unlikely that the interventions
mentioned above act as a single causative agent in producing false
memories. Instead, it is the coincidence of several conditions: A spe-
cific type or technique, the interviewer, trainer or therapist, the set-
ting, and the person. In addition, the constructive nature of (flexible
and changeable) memory must be considered to be a basic human
characteristic that favours or even makes possible all types of associ-
ated memory phenomena.
Imagination techniques, journaling, hypnosis, dream interpreta-
tions, as well as general suggestive conditions, all have the potential
to induce false beliefs or even false memories. In particular, imagina-
tion techniques, which use visualizations of episodes from the
observer’s perspective, carry a risk of confusing remembered and
presented material. It is apparent that combining several techniques
increases the risk of induction (Horselenberg et al., 2000; Scoboria
et al., 2007; Scoboria, Mazzoni, Jarry, & Shapero, 2012; Von Glahn,
Otani, Migita, Langford, & Hillard, 2012). In addition, the higher the
level of self-reference or the more personalized the induction
TABLE 1 (Continued)
Author (year) Type of study Sample
Simulated memory induction
technique Results
Sharman and
Barnier (2008)
Quasi-
experiment
(several
groups)
78 undergraduate students,
aged 22 years, 68% women
Guided imagery False convictions are stronger
when positive events are
used as induction material
Sharman and
Scoboria (2009)
Quasi-
experiment
(several
groups)
60 undergraduate psychology
students, 22 years, 81%
women
Suggestive expressions and
guided imagery
Imagination inflation regardless
of event plausibility.
Plausibility did not affect
participants’ belief, but it did
affect their memories. In
dependence on the
plausibility of the event, false
memories are much more
often induced than
convictions
Bays et al. (2012) Quasi-
experiment
(several
groups)
135 undergraduate psychology
students, 82% women
Free imagery and journaling Inflation of false beliefs occurs
with similar frequency like
deflation in all conditions.
40% of events did not change
post manipulation. When
changes occurred, they were
similarly likely to increase
(31%) or decrease (29%)
Marsh, Pezdek, and
Lam (2014)
Quasi-
experiment
(several
groups)
Study 1: 47 college psychology
students, age 20 years, 55%
women
Study 2: 64 students, 72%
women
Guided imagery (ego
perspective and observer
perspective) and journaling
False belief could be induced by
reports from an observer
perspective but not from ego
perspective
Note: Articles are ordered chronologically according to year of publication and to method (experiment and quasi-experiment). Studies reported the percentages
of events that have been rated as believed being true after the imagination, or percentages of participants who increased in belief or memory after the
intervention, or (in case no percentages are reported) dimensional measures of degree of belief or intensity of memory.
1200 MUSCHALLA AND SCHÖNBORN
10990879, 2021, 5, D
ow
nloaded from
https://onlinelibrary.w
iley.com
/doi/10.1002/cpp.2567 by L
iberty U
niversity, W
iley O
nline L
ibrary on [27/02/2023]. See the T
erm
s and C
onditions (https://onlinelibrary.w
iley.com
/term
s-and-conditions) on W
iley O
nline L
ibrary for rules of use; O
A
articles are governed by the applicable C
reative C
om
m
ons L
icense
TABLE 2 False belief or false memory induction by false feedback
Author (year) Type of study Sample
Simulated memory induction
technique Results
Mazzoni, Loftus,
et al. (1999)
Experiment 72 undergraduate students Interpretation of dreams 30% of the dream
interpretation group
increased their beliefs and
reported memories. Increase
of false beliefs occurred in
50% of events (decrease in
4.5%).
Mazzoni, Lombardo,
et al. (1999)
Experiment 44 undergraduate students,
age 21 years, 64% women
Interpretation of dreams For two critical events, about
80% of the belief scores
increased, that is, 80% of
participants were convinced
to have experienced the
event
Mazzoni et al. (2001) Experiment Three studies with 65 + 71
+ 57 undergraduate
students
Suggestive statements and
statements expanding
plausibility
Increase in beliefs of
implausible traumatic events
in 18%
of participants
Bernstein et al. (2005) Experiment 228 undergraduate students Suggestive interpretations Significant induction of false
belief (having felt sick after
eating a specific ice cream
as a child) in 20% of
participants (experiment 1)
and in 41% of cases
(experiment 2). 4% of the
believers even remembered
the event, 96% just believed
it had happened.
Berkowitz et al. (2008) Experiment 404 undergraduate students Suggestive statements and
statements expanding
plausibility
False beliefs were induced in
up to 30% of participants.
76% of written memory
details were neutral (not
positive or negative affect)
Geraerts et al. (2008) Experiment 180 undergraduate students,
aged 21 years, 75% women
Suggestive statements False belief was induced in
39% of participants, 7%
reported memories. After
three suggestive sessions,
behavioural consequences
were observed: The
believers (believing having
got sick after eating egg
salad as a child) ate
significantly less often egg
salad than controls or
nonbelievers
Laney and Loftus (2008) Experiment 301 undergraduate students,
aged 20 years, 75% women
Suggestive statements 20.6% of those manipulated
developed false memories
for their critical events:
They believed falsely that
they had these events and
were emotional.
Laney, Morris,
et al. (2008)
Experiment 368 undergraduate students,
aged 20 years, 80% women
Suggestive statements and
free imagery
False beliefs developed in up
to 44% of participants
(positive event) and 49%
(negative event). False
memories occurred in 5%
and 12%.
(Continues)
MUSCHALLA AND SCHÖNBORN 1201
10990879, 2021, 5, D
ow
nloaded from
https://onlinelibrary.w
iley.com
/doi/10.1002/cpp.2567 by L
iberty U
niversity, W
iley O
nline L
ibrary on [27/02/2023]. See the T
erm
s and C
onditions (https://onlinelibrary.w
iley.com
/term
s-and-conditions) on W
iley O
nline L
ibrary for rules of use; O
A
articles are governed by the applicable C
reative C
om
m
ons L
icense
TABLE 2 (Continued)
Author (year) Type of study Sample
Simulated memory induction
technique Results
Scoboria, Mazzoni, Jarry,
and Shapero (2012)
Experiment 42 undergraduate students,
aged 19 years, 85% women
116 undergraduate students,
age 20 years, 79% women
Suggestive statements and
guided imagery
False beliefs were induced in
40% of participants (who
had low plausibility rating in
the beginning). A nonlinear
relation between the
estimation before
suggestion and false
autobiographical beliefs
after suggestion has been
found
Clifasefi et al. (2013) Experiment 147 undergraduate
psychology students, aged
19 years,
70% women
Suggestive statements Significant induction of false
belief (having been sick from
alcohol) in 20% of
participants (believers), 80%
remained nonbelievers.
From the believers, 40%
reported memories.
Loftus and
Mazzoni (1998)
Quasi-
experiment
24 undergraduate students Interpretation of dreams For two of presented critical
events, no participants
decreased, but 82%–100%
went into the direction of
becoming more confident
that the event had
happened to them.
Hart and Schooler (2006) Quasi-
experiment
112 students Suggestive statements False beliefs increasing in
11%–20% of participants,
decreasing in 13%, no false
memories. Participants
responded with greater
confidence that they had
experienced an enigma
when given plausibility
information, it did not
increase their memory for
the event, and schematicity
decreased reported memory
of the event.
Scoboria et al. (2007) Quasi-
experiment
Study 1: 62 undergraduate
students, aged 20 years,
77% women
Study 2: 164 undergraduates,
aged 22 years, 88% women
Suggestive statements and
statements expanding
plausibility
Study 1: False beliefs under
conditions of plausible
events in 50% of
participants, but no false
memories
Study 2: 45% of participants
increased in false belief
Scoboria, Mazzoni, and
Jarry (2008)
Quasi-
experiment
21 women aged 20 years Suggestive statements and
statements expanding
plausibility
Results show that a subtle
suggestion about the
personal past can modify
behaviour. Specifically, food
preferences and eating
behaviour were both
reduced in a manner
consistent with the
suggestion provided.
Pezdek, Blandon-Gitlin,
Lam, Hart, and
Schooler (2006)
Quasi-
experiment
(several
groups)
Study 1: 296 undergraduate
students in psychology
classes, aged 22 years, 198
women
Study 2: 125 students, aged
24 years, 56 women
Suggestive statements and
statements expanding
plausibility
Study 1: Providing background
knowledge can increase
beliefs about personal
events, but that its impact is
limited by the extent of the
individual’s familiarity with
1202 MUSCHALLA AND SCHÖNBORN
10990879, 2021, 5, D
ow
nloaded from
https://onlinelibrary.w
iley.com
/doi/10.1002/cpp.2567 by L
iberty U
niversity, W
iley O
nline L
ibrary on [27/02/2023]. See the T
erm
s and C
onditions (https://onlinelibrary.w
iley.com
/term
s-and-conditions) on W
iley O
nline L
ibrary for rules of use; O
A
articles are governed by the applicable C
reative C
om
m
ons L
icense
techniques applied, the more the risk of false belief induction
increases (Scoboria, Mazzoni, Jarry, & Bernstein, 2012). A review
by Otgaar, Muris, Howe, and Merckelbach (2017) which focused
on clinical studies—false memory effects in participants with PTSD,
or a history of trauma, or depression—found similar phenomena of
false memories being increased by induction: If the material pres-
ented was emotional, the clinical participants’ levels of false mem-
ory increased relative to those of the comparison groups. This
difference was not observed when nonemotional material was
presented. People with PTSD, a history of trauma, or depression
were at risk for producing false memories when they were
exposed to information related to their knowledge base with the
potential to activate associations.
Because most techniques in training, coaching, and psychother-
apy will use personalized material, images, and exploration strategies,
it can be assumed that findings from the experimental laboratory
studies reviewed here are relevant to these practice settings. The
subjectively perceived authority or professionalism of a trainer,
coach, or psychotherapist can also lead to an induction. It is impossi-
ble to eliminate the risk of this condition, which makes the practi-
tioner’s reflective ability and their interaction approach indispensable.
This results in the need for supervision, the use of evaluated
methods to ensure the quality of the practitioner’s own work, and
their knowledge of the intervention’s possible side effects. Psycho-
therapy research shows the relevance of reciprocity and the interac-
tion between the patient and psychotherapist (Langhoff, Baer,
Zubraegel, & Linden, 2008). This is also crucial in the induction of
nonexperiential material.
However, the induction of false memories is a general factor
which does not stem exclusively from the context of psychotherapy.
Empirical findings have shown that a control group may develop false
memories or a change in conviction (Berkowitz et al., 2008). Similarly,
it has been shown that subjects might not develop false memories but
instead remember less or report less information after an imagination
exercise (Bays et al., 2013).
Finally, the fundamental problem is that in both practice and the
experimental context, there is often no clear distinction between
induced false beliefs or their associated vivid, false memories. It
should be borne in mind that even the belief in a trauma (not only full,
vivid, false memories) can bring about serious consequences for those
involved.
In the case of false memories in psychotherapy, it must be deter-
mined whether this is a side effect of an indicated intervention, a mal-
practice, an incorrect intervention in the presence of an existing
contraindication (Linden & Schermuly-Haupt, 2014), or the effect of
any experiences outside the intervention setting. Usually, the trainer/
coach/therapist as the producer of the intervention focuses their
attention on the positive rather than the negative effects of the inter-
vention (Hatfield, McCullough, Frantz, & Krieger, 2010). However,
false memories in the context of psychological interventions can have
strong negative consequences (Linden & Schermuly-Haupt, 2014) and
professionals should be aware of this risk. There is also a discrepancy
TABLE 2 (Continued)
Author (year) Type of study Sample
Simulated memory induction
technique Results
the context of the
suggested target event.
Study 2: False beliefs occurred
under condition of plausible
and familiar events, but
there was no change in
belief in 70% of participants
Sharman and
Calacouris (2010)
Quasi-
experiment
(several
groups)
46 undergraduate students,
aged 20 years,
78% women
Free imagery Childhood events containing
achievements and affiliation
were used as experimental
stimuli. For achievement
events, participants’ explicit
motives (subjective need for
success) predicted their
false beliefs and memories.
Scoboria, Mazzoni, Jarry,
and Bernstein (2012)
Quasi-
experiment
(several
groups)
125 undergraduate students,
aged 20 years, 77% women
Suggestive statements and
statements expanding
plausibility and guided
imagery
Generalized suggestions had
hardly any effect on
increased beliefs that events
had happened. Personalized
suggestions lead to false
memories in 19% of
manipulated participants
and false beliefs in 24% of
manipulated participants
Note: Articles are ordered chronologically according to year of publication, and to method (experiment and quasi-experiment).
MUSCHALLA AND SCHÖNBORN 1203
10990879, 2021, 5, D
ow
nloaded from
https://onlinelibrary.w
iley.com
/doi/10.1002/cpp.2567 by L
iberty U
niversity, W
iley O
nline L
ibrary on [27/02/2023]. See the T
erm
s and C
onditions (https://onlinelibrary.w
iley.com
/term
s-and-conditions) on W
iley O
nline L
ibrary for rules of use; O
A
articles are governed by the applicable C
reative C
om
m
ons L
icense
TABLE 3 False belief or false memory induction by implantation
Author (year) Type of study Sample Simulated (therapy) technique Results
Hyman and
Pentland (1996)
Experiment 65 undergraduate students, 75%
women
Repeated interviews, suggestive
statements and imagery
Recall of true events: 85%–
100% (one to three sessions);
false belief in 15%–35% (one
to three sessions) of false
events
Desjardins and
Scoboria (2007)
Experiment 44 undergraduate students,
aged 22 years, 89% women
Repeated interviews and guided
imagery
68% of participants exposed to
self- relevant story details
were judged as having created
memories or images about the
false event, as compared with
36.4% exposed to nonself-
relevant stories. Subjective
ratings of memory intensity
were higher for self- relevant
groups, and self- relevant
participants were less likely to
correctly guess the false
events
Qin et al. (2008) Experiment Study 1: 119 participants:
Community and students,
aged 27 years
Study 2: 132 undergraduates
Suggestive statements,
plausibility expanding
statements, guided imagery
and repeated
interviews
Study 1: 10% full false
memories, 16% partially false
memories in the participants
Study 2: Adults’ abilities to
distinguish true from false
memories and the criteria they
used to make such
judgements were examined.
Participants distinguished true
and false memories to a
certain extent. However, error
rates were high:
Approximately 40% of the
time, participants mistakenly
identified false memories as
true.
Wade et al. (2010) Experiment 53 family members of students,
aged 21 years, 59% female
Free
imagery and repeated
interviews
37% of the participants had false
belief after first interview,
42%–68% after the second
interview. False beliefs were
less induced by means of
visual information in
comparison to verbal
information
Garry and
Wade (2005)
Experiment 44 undergraduate students,
aged 21 years
Guided imagery Recall of true events was 97%.
False memories occurred in up
to 82% under condition of
narration and 50% under
condition of visual information
(photo). Narratives produce
more false memories than
photos do
Strange, Wade,
and
Hayne (2008)
Experiment 105 participants, aged 20 years,
70% women
Free imagery and repeated
interviews
False beliefs and false memories
occur more often under
conditions of events before
infantile amnesia (events at
age 2 years), as compared to
later (event at age 10). False
memories occurred in up to
38% (event age 2) and 19%
(event at age 10) participants
1204 MUSCHALLA AND SCHÖNBORN
10990879, 2021, 5, D
ow
nloaded from
https://onlinelibrary.w
iley.com
/doi/10.1002/cpp.2567 by L
iberty U
niversity, W
iley O
nline L
ibrary on [27/02/2023]. See the T
erm
s and C
onditions (https://onlinelibrary.w
iley.com
/term
s-and-conditions) on W
iley O
nline L
ibrary for rules of use; O
A
articles are governed by the applicable C
reative C
om
m
ons L
icense
TABLE 3 (Continued)
Author (year) Type of study Sample Simulated (therapy) technique Results
Scoboria,
Wysman, and
Otgaar (2012)
Experiment 61 undergraduate students,
aged 21 years, 82% women
101 students, aged 21 years,
78% women
Suggestive statements, guided
imagery and repeated
interviews
False beliefs were induced under
conditions of absolute or
relative suggestive
statements. The more
absolute a statement was (e.g.
all events were named by the
parents), the higher was the
probability of false belief
induction
Hyman
et al. (1995)
Quasi-experiment Study 1: 20 and Study 2: 51
psychology students, 75%
women
Repeated interviews and
suggestive questions
Study 1: 20% of false events
were falsely recalled (84% of
true events)
Study 2: Replication and
extension of study 1: 25% of
false events were falsely
recalled (95% of true events)
Pezdek
et al. (1997)
Quasi-experiment Study 1: 29 catholic students
from women high school
Study 2: 20 graduate students,
aged 28 years
Suggestive statements and
plausibility expanding
statements
Study 1: False beliefs in 14%
(Jews) and 35% (Catholics) of
participants, false memories in
7.5%. Only plausible events
have been falsely
remembered: Catholics
remembered the false catholic
events, Jews remembered the
false jewish event.
Study 2: 15% of participants
reported false beliefs
Hyman and
Billings (1998)
Quasi-experiment 66 undergraduate students, 56%
women
Free imagery 85% of true events were
recalled. Clear false memories
on false events occurred in
15% of participants, partly
false memories by 12%, trying
but no memory response by
27%, no memory in 30% of
participants
Porter et al. (1999) Quasi-experiment 77 undergraduate students,
aged 19 years, 79% women
Guided imagery and repeated
interviews
26% of participants “recovered”
a complete false memory for
the false experience and
another 30% recalled aspects
of the false experience.
Heaps and
Nash (2001)
Quasi-experiment 63 undergraduate students Plausibility expanding
statements
37% of participants reported
false memories after
imagination (narrative recall of
false memories)
Wade et al. (2002) Quasi-experiment 20 nonpsychology students,
aged 20 years, 50% women
Gudied imagery False beliefs or partial false
memories in up to 50% of
participants after exposition
to a fake photograph and 3
interviews with imagery
instructions
Ost et al. (2005) Quasi-experiment 31 undergraduate psychology
students, aged 20 years, 77%
women
Free imagination and repeated
interviews
False beliefs about childhood
events induced in 22% of
participants; false memories in
only one participant
French
et al. (2006)
Quasi-experiment 29 pairs of adult siblings, aged
22 years
Suggestive statements,
plausibility expanding
statements, and
peer-discussion of
the topics between
participants
Before the discussion, false
memories were induced in 5%
and false beliefs in 19%. After
the discussion, the rate was
reduced in both false beliefs
(3%) and false memories (2%).
(Continues)
MUSCHALLA AND SCHÖNBORN 1205
10990879, 2021, 5, D
ow
nloaded from
https://onlinelibrary.w
iley.com
/doi/10.1002/cpp.2567 by L
iberty U
niversity, W
iley O
nline L
ibrary on [27/02/2023]. See the T
erm
s and C
onditions (https://onlinelibrary.w
iley.com
/term
s-and-conditions) on W
iley O
nline L
ibrary for rules of use; O
A
articles are governed by the applicable C
reative C
om
m
ons L
icense
in terms of knowledge and approaches, between researchers and pro-
fessionals, which has led to a lively debate on recovering memory
therapies (Stocks, 1998; Ulatowska & Sawicka, 2017).
4.1 | Limitations and further research
A major limitation of the research in this field is that many studies
involved healthy, mostly 20-year old, female undergraduate
(psychology) students. Therefore, the results cannot be generalized to
the general population. However, studies have shown that memory
processes such as activation spreading are independent of age with
similar mechanisms being observed in 25 year olds and in 70 year olds
(Balota & Duchek, 1989) and that age was not systematically associ-
ated with rates of false belief inflation (Pezdek & Eddy, 2001).
Also, many of the studies only focus on short-term effects. Meth-
odologically, the false beliefs or false memories in these experiments
often pertained to mundane events (e.g. having eaten rotten egg
salad; Geraerts et al., 2008) rather than to the type of traumatic
events that may be the topic in psychotherapy. However, there is the
general issue that really life threatening or otherwise traumatic events
cannot be induced for ethical reasons. This generally limits the possi-
bilities for experimental research on traumatic memories.
Research on false memories is also prone to bias due to interpre-
tation: As an example, the de Rivera studies (de Rivera, 1997, 2000)
are introduced as research on people who falsely recalled having
been the victims of abuse; however, strictly speaking, the facts do
not support this conclusion: The subjects were people who first
recovered memories of abuse during psychotherapy and later, after
therapy, retracted these memories. The fact that they retracted their
memories does not of itself necessarily imply that the memories
were wrong.
Our review also reiterates that clearer definitions of false memo-
ries and false beliefs are necessary, as they offer the potential to
TABLE 3 (Continued)
Author (year) Type of study Sample Simulated (therapy) technique Results
Short and
Bodner (2011)
Quasi-experiment 34 undergraduate students,
aged 20 years, 82% women
Cognitive interview False beliefs on having
experienced the suggested
event were induced in 41% of
participants, false memories in
21%
Otgaar
et al. (2013)
Quasi-experiment 89 undergraduate students,
aged 22 years, 80% women
Suggestive statements, repeated
interviews, and guided
imagery
False memories have been
induced in 36% of
participants. From those, 23%
have later withdrawn their
memories. In 13% of the
participants false memories
remained after debriefing,
even though the persons did
no more believe that the
memory is experience-based
(“nonbeliefed memory”).
Shaw and
Porter (2015)
Quasi-experiment 60 undergraduate students,
aged 20 years, 72% women
Suggestive statements, repeated
interviews, and guided
imagery
False beliefs or false memories
were induced in 70% of
participants within scenarios
of criminal events, within
noncriminal events in 76% of
participants
Lindsay
et al. (2004)
Quasi-experiment
(several groups)
45 undergraduate students, 80%
women
Guided imagery False memories were induced by
true photographs and guided
imagery (on two true and one
false childhood events) in 65%
of participants
Hessen-Kayfitz
and
Scoboria (2012)
Quasi-experiment
(several groups)
82 undergraduate students,
aged 20 years, 77% women
Suggestive statements, repeated
interviews, and guided
imagery
False memories were induced in
5% (not self-relevant event) to
19% (self-relevant event) of
participants. Induction was
strongest in scenarios with
ego-related information. For
true events 60% of
participants had memories.
Note: Articles are ordered chronologically according to year of publication, and to method (experiment and quasi-experiment).
1206 MUSCHALLA AND SCHÖNBORN
10990879, 2021, 5, D
ow
nloaded from
https://onlinelibrary.w
iley.com
/doi/10.1002/cpp.2567 by L
iberty U
niversity, W
iley O
nline L
ibrary on [27/02/2023]. See the T
erm
s and C
onditions (https://onlinelibrary.w
iley.com
/term
s-and-conditions) on W
iley O
nline L
ibrary for rules of use; O
A
articles are governed by the applicable C
reative C
om
m
ons L
icense
investigate false memories with a more uniform conceptual under-
standing. A more selective use of the concepts of false belief and false
memory in future research could make it easier to generalize results
and improve communication within the debate on false memories
(Pezdek & Lam, 2007). Elaborated instruments are needed to make
the differentiability and measurement of the intensity of a memory
change clear. Laboratory investigations in which the presence of an
induction is assessed by a subsequent debriefing or the evaluation of
a transcript should be made as transparent as possible. Experimental
studies of false memories should no longer be conducted with homog-
enous (psychology) student samples but include more heterogeneous
participants from the general population or from other specific groups
(e.g. different age groups, professional groups).
5 | CONCLUSION
False memories of false events can be regarded as phenomena which
can only be adequately researched in the laboratory and are only
rarely established with absolute certainty in practice but can never-
theless lead to harmful consequences for those involved. In the pre-
sent review, it was found that false memories can be researched in
the laboratory and that it can be assumed that various methods and
techniques increase the probability of false beliefs or false memories
being induced in, on average, 20%–50% of participants.
In the context of psychological interventions, the challenge arises
on the one hand, of recognizing a (potentially harmful) false memory
as such and therefore not carrying out a nonindicated intervention,
which could possibly lead to undesirable effects. On the other hand,
the professional is himself the person who can confirm or even create
false belief or false memory phenomena through his actions.
Finally, whether the consequence of a false memory is harmful or
helpful for the person who does not depend on whether it is a valid
memory or a false memory. In any case, it is the professional’s duty to
help the person change, reframe, and form their memory, as clients’
complaints often pertain to autobiographical memories. Any reframing
should be done in a way that enables the person to cope with life bet-
ter. Reframing is oriented forward, is done in the here and now, and as
such, the reframing process and outcome is independent of any past
events which induced and formed the earlier memories and beliefs.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
The manuscript was proofread for English language by Kelly GmbH.
This research did not receive funding.
DATA AVAILABILITY STATEMENT
Data are the 59 original articles on which this review is based
on. They are accessible via public databases or from the authors upon
request.
STATEMENT OF ETHICS
Ethical approval was not obtained, because no human beings have
been investigated directly.
CONFLICT OF INTEREST
The authors have no conflicts of interest to declare.
AUTHOR CONTRIBUTIONS
B.M. designed the research question, supervised the research process,
prepared the tables, wrote the manuscript, and carried out the revi-
sion. F.S. conducted literature search and literature analysis and pre-
pared the tables.
ORCID
Beate Muschalla https://orcid.org/0000-0001-5285-6618
REFERENCES
Balota, D. A., & Duchek, J. M. (1989). Spreading activation in episodic
memory: Further evidence for age independence. Quarterly Journal of
Experimental Psychology, 41, 849–876. https://doi.org/10.1080/
14640748908402396
Bays, R. B., Foley, M. A., & Zabrucky, K. M. (2013). Timing does matter:
Examining imagery’s impact on the temporal origins of false beliefs.
Acta Psychologica, 142(1), 30–37. https://doi.org/10.1016/j.actpsy.
2012.10.004
Bays, R. B., Zabrucky, K. M., & Gagne, P. (2012). When plausibility manipu-
lations work: An examination of their role in the development of false
beliefs and memories. Memory, 20(6), 638–644. https://doi.org/10.
1080/09658211.2012.692797
Berkowitz, S. R., Laney, C., Morris, E. K., Garry, M., & Loftus, E. F. (2008).
Pluto behaving badly: False beliefs and their consequences. American
Journal of Psychology, 121(4), 643–660. https://www.jstor.org/stable/
20445490
Bernstein, D. M., Laney, C., Morris, E. K., & Loftus, E. F. (2005). False
beliefs about fattening foods can have healthy consequences.
Proceeding of the National Academy of Science of the United States of
America, 102(39), 13,724–13,731. https://doi.org/10.1073/pnas.0504
869102
Brainerd, C. J., & Reyna, V. F. (2005). The Science of False Memory. Oxford:
Oxford University Press. https://doi.org/10.1093/acprof:oso/
9780195154054.001.0001
Brewer, W. F. (1986). What is autobiographical memory? In D. C. Rubin
(Ed.), Autobiographical Memory (pp. 25–49). Cambridge: Cambridge
University Press.
Brewin, C. R., & Andrews, B. (2017). Creating memories for false autobio-
graphical events in childhood: A systematic review. Applied Cognitive
Psychology, 31(1), 2–23. https://doi.org/10.1002/acp.3220
Clancy, S. A., McNally, R. J., & Schacter, D. L. (1999). Effects of guided
imagery on memory distortion in women reporting recovered memo-
ries of childhood sexual abuse. Journal of Traumatic Stress, 12(4),
559–569. https://doi.org/10.1023/A:1024704815234
Clifasefi, S. L., Bernstein, D. M., Mantonakis, A., & Loftus, E. F. (2013).
“Queasy does it”: False alcohol beliefs and memories may lead to
diminished alcohol preferences. Acta Psychologica, 143(1), 14–19.
https://doi.org/10.1016/j.actpsy.2013.01.017
de Rivera, J. (1997). The construction of false memory syndrome: The
experience of retractors. Psychological Inquiry, 8(4), 271–292. https://
doi.org/10.1207/s15327965pli0804_1
de Rivera, J. (2000). Understandings persons who repudiate memories
recover in therapy. Professional Psychology: Research and Practice,
31(4), 378–386. https://doi.org/10.1037/0735-7028.31.4.378
Desjardins, T., & Scoboria, A. (2007). “You and your best friend Suzy put
slime in Ms. Smollett’s desk”: Producing false memories with self-
relevant details. Psychonomic Bulletin & Review, 14(6), 1090–1095.
https://doi.org/10.3758/BF03193096
MUSCHALLA AND SCHÖNBORN 1207
10990879, 2021, 5, D
ow
nloaded from
https://onlinelibrary.w
iley.com
/doi/10.1002/cpp.2567 by L
iberty U
niversity, W
iley O
nline L
ibrary on [27/02/2023]. See the T
erm
s and C
onditions (https://onlinelibrary.w
iley.com
/term
s-and-conditions) on W
iley O
nline L
ibrary for rules of use; O
A
articles are governed by the applicable C
reative C
om
m
ons L
icense
https://orcid.org/0000-0001-5285-6618
https://orcid.org/0000-0001-5285-6618
https://doi.org/10.1080/14640748908402396
https://doi.org/10.1080/14640748908402396
https://doi.org/10.1016/j.actpsy.2012.10.004
https://doi.org/10.1016/j.actpsy.2012.10.004
https://doi.org/10.1080/09658211.2012.692797
https://doi.org/10.1080/09658211.2012.692797
https://www.jstor.org/stable/20445490
https://www.jstor.org/stable/20445490
https://doi.org/10.1073/pnas.0504869102
https://doi.org/10.1073/pnas.0504869102
https://doi.org/10.1093/acprof:oso/9780195154054.001.0001
https://doi.org/10.1093/acprof:oso/9780195154054.001.0001
https://doi.org/10.1002/acp.3220
https://doi.org/10.1023/A:1024704815234
https://doi.org/10.1016/j.actpsy.2013.01.017
https://doi.org/10.1207/s15327965pli0804_1
https://doi.org/10.1207/s15327965pli0804_1
https://doi.org/10.1037/0735-7028.31.4.378
https://doi.org/10.3758/BF03193096
French, L., Sutherland, R., & Garry, M. (2006). Discussion affects memory
for true and false childhood events. Applied Cognitive Psychology,
20(5), 671–680. https://doi.org/10.1002/acp.1219
Garry, M., Manning, C. G., Loftus, E. F., & Sherman, S. J. (1996). Imagina-
tion inflation: Imagining a childhood event inflates confidence that it
occurred. Psychonomic Bulletin & Review, 3(2), 208–214. https://doi.
org/10.3758/BF03212420
Garry, M., & Wade, K. A. (2005). Actually, a picture is worth less than
45 words: Narratives produce more false memories than photographs
do. Psychonomic Bulletin & Review, 12(2), 359–366. https://doi.org/10.
3758/BF03196385
Geraerts, E., Bernstein, D. M., Merckelbach, H., Linders, C.,
Raymaekers, L., & Loftus, E. F. (2008). Lasting false beliefs and their
behavioral consequences. Psychological Science, 19(8), 749–753.
https://doi.org/10.1111/j.1467-9280.2008.02151.x
Hart, R. E., & Schooler, J. W. (2006). Increasing belief in the experience of
an invasive procedure that never happened: The role of plausibility
and schematicity. Applied Cognitive Psychology, 20(5), 661–669.
https://doi.org/10.1002/acp.1218
Hatfield, D., McCullough, L., Frantz, S. H. B., & Krieger, K. (2010). Do we
know when our clients get worse? An investigation of therapists’ abil-
ity to detect negative client change. Clinical Psychology &
Psychotherapy, 17(1), 25–32. https://doi.org/10.1002/cpp.656
Heaps, C., & Nash, M. (1999). Individual differences in imagination infla-
tion. Psychonomic Bulletin & Review, 6(2), 313–318. https://doi.org/10.
3758/BF03214120
Heaps, C., & Nash, M. (2001). Comparing recollective experience in true
and false autobiographical memories. Journal of Experimental Psychol-
ogy: Learning, Memory, and Cognition, 27(4), 920–930. https://psycnet.
apa.org/doi/10.1037/0278-7393.27.4.920
Hessen-Kayfitz, J. K., & Scoboria, A. (2012). False memory is in the details:
Photographic details differentially predict memory formation. Applied
Cognitive Psychology, 26(3), 333–341. https://doi.org/10.1002/acp.
1839
Horselenberg, R., Merckelbach, H., Muris, P., Rassin, E., Sijsenaar, M., &
Spaan, V. (2000). Imagining fictitious childhood events: The role of
individual differences in imagination inflation. Clinical Psychology &
Psychotherapy, 7(2), 128–137. https://doi.org/10.1002/(SICI)1099-
0879(200005)7:23.0.CO;2-Q
Hyman, I. E., & Billings, F. J. (1998). Individual differences and the creation
of false childhood memories. Memory, 6(1), 1–20. https://doi.org/10.
1080/741941598
Hyman, I. E., Husband, T. H., & Billings, F. J. (1995). False memories of
childhood experiences. Applied Cognitive Psychology, 9(3), 181–197.
https://doi.org/10.1002/acp.2350090302
Hyman, I. E., & Pentland, J. (1996). The role of mental imagery in the
creation of false childhood memories. Journal of Memory and Language,
35(6), 101–117. https://doi.org/10.1006/jmla.1996.0006
Lampinen, J. M., Neuschatz, J. S., & Payne, D. G. (1998). Memory illusions
and contiousness: Examining the phenomenology of true and false
memories. Current Psychology: Development, Learning, Personality,
Social, 16, 181–224.
Laney, C., Fowler, N. B., Nelson, K. J., Bernstein, D. M., & Loftus, E. F.
(2008). The persistence of false beliefs. Acta Psychologica, 129(1),
190–197. https://doi.org/10.1016/j.actpsy.2008.05.010
Laney, C., & Loftus, E. F. (2008). Emotional content of true and false
memories. Memory, 16(5), 500–516. https://doi.org/10.1080/
09658210802065939
Laney, C., Morris, E. K., Bernstein, D. M., Wakefield, B. M., & Loftus, E. F.
(2008). Asparagus, a love story healthier eating could be just a false
memory away. Experimental Psychology, 55(5), 291–300. https://doi.
org/10.1027/1618-3169.55.5.291
Langhoff, C., Baer, T., Zubraegel, D., & Linden, M. (2008). Therapist–
patient alliance, patient–therapist alliance, mutual therapeutic alliance,
therapist–patient concordance, and outcome of CBT in GAD. Journal
of Cognitive Psychotherapy, 22, 68–79. https://doi.org/10.1891/0889.
8391.22.1.68
Lieberei, B., & Linden, M. (2008). Unerwünschte Effekte, Nebenwirkungen
und Behandlungsfehler in der Psychotherapie. Zeitschrift für Evidenz,
Fortbildung Und Qualität Im Gesundheitswesen, 102(9), 558–562.
https://doi.org/10.1016/j.zefq.2008.09.017
Linden, M., & Schermuly-Haupt, M.-L. (2014). Definition, assessment and
rate of psychotherapy side effects. World Psychiatry, 13(3), 306–309.
https://doi.org/10.1002/wps.20153
Lindsay, D. S., Hagen, L., Read, J. D., Wade, K. A., & Garry, M. (2004). True
photographs and false memories. Psychological Science, 15(3),
149–154. https://doi.org/10.1111/j.0956-7976.2004.01503002.x
Loftus, E. F., & Mazzoni, G. A. L. (1998). Using imagination and personal-
ized suggestion to change people. Behavior Therapy, 29(4), 691–706.
https://doi.org/10.1016/S0005-7894(98)80026-9
Marsh, B. U., Pezdek, K., & Lam, S. T. (2014). Imagination perspective
affects ratings of the likelihood of occurrence of autobiographical
memories. Acta Psychologica, 150, 114–119. https://doi.org/10.1016/
j.actpsy.2014.05.006
Mazzoni, G. A. L., Loftus, E. F., & Kirsch, I. (2001). Change beliefs about
implausible autobiographical events: A little plausibility goes a long
way. Journal of Experimental Psychology: Applied, 7(1), 51–59. https://
psycnet.apa.org/doi/10.1037/1076-898X.7.1.51
Mazzoni, G. A. L., Loftus, E. F., Seitz, A., & Lynn, S. J. (1999). Changing
beliefs and memories through dream interpretation. Applied Cognitive
Psychology, 13(2), 125–144. https://doi.org/10.1002/(SICI)1099-0720
(199904)13:23.0.CO;2-5
Mazzoni, G. A. L., Lombardo, P., Malvagia, S., & Loftus, E. F. (1999).
Dream interpretation and false beliefs. Professional Psychology:
Research and Practice, 30(1), 45–50. https://doi.org/10.1037/0735-
7028.30.1.45
Mazzoni, G. A. L., & Memon, A. (2003). Imagination can create false
autobiographical memories. Psychological Science, 14(2), 186–188.
https://doi.org/10.1046/2Fj.1432-1327.1999.00020.x
McNally, R. J., Lasko, N. B., Clancy, S. A., Macklin, M. L., Pitman, R. K., &
Orr, S. P. (2004). Psychophysiological responding during script-driven
imagery in people reporting abduction by space aliens. Psychological
Science, 15, 493–497. https://doi.org/10.1111/j.0956-7976.2004.
00707.x
Nordhausen, T., & Hirt, J. (2018). RefHunter. Manual Zur Literaturrecherche
in Fachdatenbanken Version 1.0 (Martin-Luther-Universität Halle-
Wittenberg & FHS St. Gallen, Hrsg.), Halle (Saale). Verfügbar unter
Ost, J., Foster, S., Costall, A., & Bull, R. (2005). False reports of childhood
events in appropriate interviews. Memory, 13(7), 700–710. https://doi.
org/10.1080/09658210444000340
Otgaar, H., Muris, P., Howe, M. L., & Merckelbach, H. (2017). What drives
false memories in psychopathology? A case for associative activation.
Clinical Psychological Science, 5, 1048–1069. https://doi.org/10.1177/
2167702617724424
Otgaar, H., Scoboria, A., & Smeets, T. (2013). Experimentally evoking
nonbelieved memories for childhood events. Journal of Experimental
Psychology: Learning, Memory, and Cognition, 39(3), 717–730. https://
psycnet.apa.org/doi/10.1037/a0029668
Paddock, J. R., Joseph, A. L., Chan, F. M., Terranova, S., Manning, C., &
Loftus, E. F. (1998). When guided visualization procedures bay
backfire: Imagination inflation and predicting individual differences in
suggestibility. Applied Cognitive Psychology, 12(7), 63–75.
Paddock, J. R., & Terranova, S. (2001). Guided visualization and suggestibil-
ity: Effect of perceived authority on recall of autobiographical
memories. The Journal of Genetic Psychology, 162(3), 347–356. https://
doi.org/10.1080/00221320109597488
Paddock, J. R., Terranova, S., Kwok, R., & Halpern, D. V. (2000). When
knowing becomes remembering: Individual differences in susceptibility
to suggestion. The Journal of Genetic Psychology, 161(4), 453–468.
https://doi.org/10.1080/00221320009596724
1208 MUSCHALLA AND SCHÖNBORN
10990879, 2021, 5, D
ow
nloaded from
https://onlinelibrary.w
iley.com
/doi/10.1002/cpp.2567 by L
iberty U
niversity, W
iley O
nline L
ibrary on [27/02/2023]. See the T
erm
s and C
onditions (https://onlinelibrary.w
iley.com
/term
s-and-conditions) on W
iley O
nline L
ibrary for rules of use; O
A
articles are governed by the applicable C
reative C
om
m
ons L
icense
https://doi.org/10.1002/acp.1219
https://doi.org/10.3758/BF03212420
https://doi.org/10.3758/BF03212420
https://doi.org/10.3758/BF03196385
https://doi.org/10.3758/BF03196385
https://doi.org/10.1111/j.1467-9280.2008.02151.x
https://doi.org/10.1002/acp.1218
https://doi.org/10.1002/cpp.656
https://doi.org/10.3758/BF03214120
https://doi.org/10.3758/BF03214120
https://psycnet.apa.org/doi/10.1037/0278-7393.27.4.920
https://psycnet.apa.org/doi/10.1037/0278-7393.27.4.920
https://doi.org/10.1002/acp.1839
https://doi.org/10.1002/acp.1839
https://doi.org/10.1002/(SICI)1099-0879(200005)7:2%3C128::AID-CPP238%3E3.0.CO;2-Q
https://doi.org/10.1002/(SICI)1099-0879(200005)7:2%3C128::AID-CPP238%3E3.0.CO;2-Q
https://doi.org/10.1080/741941598
https://doi.org/10.1080/741941598
https://doi.org/10.1002/acp.2350090302
https://doi.org/10.1006/jmla.1996.0006
https://doi.org/10.1016/j.actpsy.2008.05.010
https://doi.org/10.1080/09658210802065939
https://doi.org/10.1080/09658210802065939
https://doi.org/10.1027/1618-3169.55.5.291
https://doi.org/10.1027/1618-3169.55.5.291
https://doi.org/10.1891/0889.8391.22.1.68
https://doi.org/10.1891/0889.8391.22.1.68
https://doi.org/10.1016/j.zefq.2008.09.017
https://doi.org/10.1002/wps.20153
https://doi.org/10.1111/j.0956-7976.2004.01503002.x
https://doi.org/10.1016/S0005-7894(98)80026-9
https://doi.org/10.1016/j.actpsy.2014.05.006
https://doi.org/10.1016/j.actpsy.2014.05.006
https://psycnet.apa.org/doi/10.1037/1076-898X.7.1.51
https://psycnet.apa.org/doi/10.1037/1076-898X.7.1.51
https://doi.org/10.1002/(SICI)1099-0720(199904)13:2%3C125::AID-ACP560%3E3.0.CO;2-5
https://doi.org/10.1002/(SICI)1099-0720(199904)13:2%3C125::AID-ACP560%3E3.0.CO;2-5
https://doi.org/10.1037/0735-7028.30.1.45
https://doi.org/10.1037/0735-7028.30.1.45
https://doi.org/10.1046/2Fj.1432-1327.1999.00020.x
https://doi.org/10.1111/j.0956-7976.2004.00707.x
https://doi.org/10.1111/j.0956-7976.2004.00707.x
https://doi.org/10.1080/09658210444000340
https://doi.org/10.1080/09658210444000340
https://doi.org/10.1177/2167702617724424
https://doi.org/10.1177/2167702617724424
https://psycnet.apa.org/doi/10.1037/a0029668
https://psycnet.apa.org/doi/10.1037/a0029668
https://doi.org/10.1080/00221320109597488
https://doi.org/10.1080/00221320109597488
https://doi.org/10.1080/00221320009596724
Paddock, J. R., Terranova, S., Noel, M., Eber, H. W., Manning, C., &
Loftus, E. F. (1999). Imagination inflation and the perils of guided
visualization. The Journal of Psychology, 133(6), 581–595. https://doi.
org/10.1080/00223989909599764
Pezdek, K., Blandon-Gitlin, I., & Gabbay, P. (2006). Imagination and mem-
ory: Does imagining implausible events lead to false autobiographical
memories? Psychonomic Bulletin & Review, 13(5), 764–769. https://doi.
org/10.3758/BF03193994
Pezdek, K., Blandon-Gitlin, I., Lam, S., Hart, R. E., & Schooler, J. W. (2006).
Is knowing believing? The role of event plausibility and background
knowledge in planting false beliefs about the personal past. Memory &
Cognition, 34(8), 1628–1635. https://doi.org/10.3758/BF03195925
Pezdek, K., & Eddy, R. M. (2001). Imagination inflation: A statistical artifact
of regression toward the mean. Memory & Cognition, 29(5), 707–718.
https://doi.org/10.3758/BF03200473
Pezdek, K., Finger, K., & Hodge, D. (1997). Planting false childhood memo-
ries: The role of event plausibility. Psychological Science, 8(6), 437–441.
https://doi.org/10.1111/2Fj.1467-9280.1997.tb00457.x
Pezdek, K., & Lam, S. (2007). What research paradigms have cognitive psy-
chologists used to study “false memory,” and what are the implications
of these choices? Consciousness and Cognition, 16(1), 2–17. https://doi.
org/10.1016/j.concog.2005.06.006
Pohl, R. (2007). Das Autobiographische Gedächtnis. Die Psychologie unserer
Lebensgeschichte. Stuttgart: Kohlhammer.
Porter, S., Yuille, J. C., & Lehman, D. R. (1999). The nature of real,
implanted, and fabricated memories for emotional childhood events:
Implications for the recovered memory debate. Law and Human Behav-
ior, 23(5), 517–537. https://doi.org/10.1023/A:1022344128649
Qin, J., Ogle, C. M., & Goodman, G. S. (2008). Adults’ memories of
childhood: True and false reports. Journal of Experimental Psychology,
14(4), 373–391. https://psycnet.apa.org/doi/10.1037/a0014309
Schermuly, C. C., & Graßmann, C. (2019). A literature review on negative
effects of coaching—What we know and what we need to know,
coaching: An international journal of theory. Research and Practice,
12(1), 39–66. https://doi.org/10.1080/17521882.2018.1528621
Scoboria, A., Lynn, S. J., Hessen, J., & Fisico, S. (2007). So that’s why I don’t
remember: Normalising forgetting of childhood events influences false
autobiographical beliefs but not memories. Memory, 15(8), 801–813.
https://doi.org/10.1080/09658210701685266
Scoboria, A., Mazzoni, G., & Jarry, J. L. (2008). Suggesting childhood food
illness results in reduced eating behavior. Acta Psychologica, 128(2),
304–309. https://doi.org/10.1016/j.actpsy.2008.03.002
Scoboria, A., Mazzoni, G., Jarry, J. L., & Bernstein, D. M. (2012). Personal-
ized and not general suggestion produces false autobiographical
memories and suggestion-consistent behavior. Acta Psychologica,
139(1), 225–232. https://doi.org/10.1016/j.actpsy.2011.10.008
Scoboria, A., Mazzoni, G., Jarry, J. L., & Shapero, D. (2012). Implausibility
inhibits but does not eliminate false autobiographical beliefs. Canadian
Journal of Experimental Psychology, 66(4), 259–267. https://doi.org/10.
1037/a0030017
Scoboria, A., Mazzoni, G., Kirsch, I., & Relyea, M. (2004). Plausibility and
belief in autobiographical memory. Applied Cognitive Psychology, 18(7),
791–801. https://onlinelibrary.wiley.com/doi/abs/10.1002/acp.1062
Scoboria, A., Wade, K. A., Lindsay, D. S., Azad, T., Strange, D., Ost, J., &
Hyman, I. E. (2017). A mega-analysis of memory reports from eight
peer-reviewed false memory implantation studies. Memory, 25(2),
146–163. https://doi.org/10.1080/09658211.2016.1260747
Scoboria, A., Wysman, L., & Otgaar, H. (2012). Credible suggestions affect
false autobiographical beliefs. Memory, 20(5), 429–442. https://doi.
org/10.1080/09658211.2012.677449
Sharman, S. J., & Barnier, A. J. (2008). Imagining nice and nasty events in
childhood or adulthood: Recent positive events show the most imagi-
nation inflation. Acta Psychologica, 129(2), 228–233. https://doi.org/
10.1016/j.actpsy.2008.06.003
Sharman, S. J., & Calacouris, S. (2010). Do people’s motives influence their
susceptibility to imagination inflation? Experimental Psychology, 57(1),
77–82. https://doi.org/10.1027/1618-3169/a000010
Sharman, S. J., Garry, M., & Beuke, C. J. (2004). Imagination or exposure
causes imagination inflation. The American Journal of Psychology,
117(2), 157–168. https://www.jstor.org/stable/4149020, https://doi.
org/10.2307/4149020
Sharman, S. J., Garry, M., & Hunt, M. (2005). Using source cues and famil-
iarity cues to resist imagination inflation. Acta Psychologica, 120(3),
227–242. https://doi.org/10.1016/j.actpsy.2005.04.002
Sharman, S. J., & Powell, M. B. (2013). Do cognitive interview instructions
contribute to false beliefs and memories? Journal of Investigative
Psychology and Offender Profiling, 10(1), 114–124. https://doi.org/10.
1002/jip.1371
Sharman, S. J., & Scoboria, A. (2009). Imagination equally influences false
memories of high and low plausibility events. Applied Cognitive Psychol-
ogy, 23(6), 813–827. https://doi.org/10.1002/acp.1515
Shaw, J., & Porter, S. (2015). Constructing rich false memories of commit-
ting crime. Psychological Science, 26(3), 291–301. https://doi.org/10.
1177/0956797614562862
Short, J. L., & Bodner, G. E. (2011). Differentiating accounts of actual,
suggested and fabricated childhood events using the judgment of
memory characteristics questionnaire. Applied Cognitive Psychology,
25(5), 775–781. https://doi.org/10.1002/acp.1756
Spanos, N. P., Burgess, C. A., Burgess, M. F., Samuels, C., & Blois, W. O.
(1999). Creating false memories of infancy with hypnotic and non-
hypnotic procedures. Applied Cognitive Psychology, 13(3), 201–218.
https://doi.org/10.1002/(SICI)1099-0720(199906)13:3<201::AID-
ACP565>3.0.CO;2-X
Stocks, J. T. (1998). Recovered memory therapy: A dubious practice
technique. Social Work, 43, 423–436. https://doi.org/10.1093/sw/43.
5.423
Strange, D., Wade, K., & Hayne, H. (2008). Creating false memories for
events that occurred before versus after the offset of childhood
amnesia. Memory, 16(5), 475–484. https://doi.org/10.1080/
09658210802059049
Ulatowska, J., & Sawicka, M. (2017). Recovered memories in clinical
practice—A research review. Psychiatr. Pol., 51, 609–618. https://doi.
org/10.12740/PP/62770
Von Glahn, N. R., Otani, H., Migita, M., Langford, S. J., & Hillard, E. E.
(2012). What is the cause of confidence inflation in the life events
inventory (LEI) paradigm? The Journal of General Psychology, 139(3),
134–154. https://doi.org/10.1080/00221309.2012.672938
Wade, K. A., Garry, M., Nash, R. A., & Harper, D. N. (2010). Anchoring
effects in the development of false childhood memories. Psychonomic
Bulletin & Review, 17(1), 66–72. https://doi.org/10.3758/PBR.17.1.66
Wade, K. A., Garry, M., Read, J. D., & Lindsay, D. S. (2002). A picture is
worth a thousand lies: Using false photographs to create false
childhood memories. Psychonomic Bulletin & Review, 9(3), 597–603.
https://doi.org/10.3758/BF03196318
SUPPORTING INFORMATION
Additional supporting information may be found online in the
Supporting Information section at the end of this article.
How to cite this article: Muschalla, B., & Schönborn, F. (2021).
Induction of false beliefs and false memories in laboratory
studies—A systematic review. Clinical Psychology &
Psychotherapy, 28(5), 1194–1209. https://doi.org/10.1002/
cpp.2567
MUSCHALLA AND SCHÖNBORN 1209
10990879, 2021, 5, D
ow
nloaded from
https://onlinelibrary.w
iley.com
/doi/10.1002/cpp.2567 by L
iberty U
niversity, W
iley O
nline L
ibrary on [27/02/2023]. See the T
erm
s and C
onditions (https://onlinelibrary.w
iley.com
/term
s-and-conditions) on W
iley O
nline L
ibrary for rules of use; O
A
articles are governed by the applicable C
reative C
om
m
ons L
icense
https://doi.org/10.1080/00223989909599764
https://doi.org/10.1080/00223989909599764
https://doi.org/10.3758/BF03193994
https://doi.org/10.3758/BF03193994
https://doi.org/10.3758/BF03195925
https://doi.org/10.3758/BF03200473
https://doi.org/10.1111/2Fj.1467-9280.1997.tb00457.x
https://doi.org/10.1016/j.concog.2005.06.006
https://doi.org/10.1016/j.concog.2005.06.006
https://doi.org/10.1023/A:1022344128649
https://psycnet.apa.org/doi/10.1037/a0014309
https://doi.org/10.1080/17521882.2018.1528621
https://doi.org/10.1080/09658210701685266
https://doi.org/10.1016/j.actpsy.2008.03.002
https://doi.org/10.1016/j.actpsy.2011.10.008
https://doi.org/10.1037/a0030017
https://doi.org/10.1037/a0030017
https://onlinelibrary.wiley.com/doi/abs/10.1002/acp.1062
https://doi.org/10.1080/09658211.2016.1260747
https://doi.org/10.1080/09658211.2012.677449
https://doi.org/10.1080/09658211.2012.677449
https://doi.org/10.1016/j.actpsy.2008.06.003
https://doi.org/10.1016/j.actpsy.2008.06.003
https://doi.org/10.1027/1618-3169/a000010
https://www.jstor.org/stable/4149020
https://doi.org/10.2307/4149020
https://doi.org/10.2307/4149020
https://doi.org/10.1016/j.actpsy.2005.04.002
https://doi.org/10.1002/jip.1371
https://doi.org/10.1002/jip.1371
https://doi.org/10.1002/acp.1515
https://doi.org/10.1177/0956797614562862
https://doi.org/10.1177/0956797614562862
https://doi.org/10.1002/acp.1756
https://doi.org/10.1002/(SICI)1099-0720(199906)13:3%3C201::AID-ACP565%3E3.0.CO;2-X
https://doi.org/10.1002/(SICI)1099-0720(199906)13:3%3C201::AID-ACP565%3E3.0.CO;2-X
https://doi.org/10.1093/sw/43.5.423
https://doi.org/10.1093/sw/43.5.423
https://doi.org/10.1080/09658210802059049
https://doi.org/10.1080/09658210802059049
https://doi.org/10.12740/PP/62770
https://doi.org/10.12740/PP/62770
https://doi.org/10.1080/00221309.2012.672938
https://doi.org/10.3758/PBR.17.1.66
https://doi.org/10.3758/BF03196318
https://doi.org/10.1002/cpp.2567
https://doi.org/10.1002/cpp.2567
1 INTRODUCTION
2 METHOD
3 RESULTS
3.1 Induction of false memories
3.2 Imagination inflation paradigm
3.3 False feedback
3.4 Memory implantation
4 DISCUSSION
4.1 Limitations and further research
5 CONCLUSION
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
DATA AVAILABILITY STATEMENT
STATEMENT OF ETHICS
CONFLICT OF INTEREST
AUTHOR CONTRIBUTIONS
REFERENCES
Place an order in 3 easy steps. Takes less than 5 mins.