EDITORIAL* The Stimulus-- The Ghost-- The Response The Carousel of Conditioning Tins xs NOT the most propitious time to suggest that ghosts exist within the ranks of the behavioral sciences. After all, determinism, without ghosts, has been a highly rewarding frame of reference for other physical sciences. Some say that the behavioral sciences have mimicked their older brothers' determlnistie attitudes with great success. Any ghosts which may exist lurk in the shadows of psychiatric and psychological research, but certainly not in behavioral research. It is, I am quite certain, the fear of spirits looming in the "psyche" that has led to the popularity of things "behavioral" instead of things "psychological"; by the pragmatic fiat of a name change, all types of ghosts were exorcised. Our own journal (Conditional Reflex), one voice of these behavioral endeavors, is itself now struggling towards some modicum of success-rejection rates are high-publication lags are threatening to become intolerableeven our long-suffering publishers seem to be happy. In the midst of such success, it is downright callous to suggest that ghosts are lurking in the pages of our journal and in its very title. But if, by some quirk of fate, there are ghosts haunting our journal, then perhaps we should become better acquainted. It is in the editorial spirit of taking a new look at old conditioning problems (suggested recently in this journal by Sehoenfeld, 1966), that it might be profitable to revisit the burial grounds of our behavioral ancestors to see ff ghosts are lurking in the environs of their entombed thoughts. One of the "in" questions permeating the behavioral sciences is that of the mediating mechanisms of conditional reflex formation. Not to be left out of any "in" group, we ourselves at the last Pay* This editorial was funded in part by all the children who have played on the carousel of reflexology. They are, however, in no way responsible for any childish errors in this manuscript. 133
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lovian meeting sponsored a symposium on this topic, at which time it was repeatedly emphasized that "the brain is where "it" is at." For many, the remaining mission is quite simple: find out where in the brain "it," the mediation of conditioning, occurs. This mission is, at least for occupational reasons, a bit troublesome for some of us. If "it" is strictly in the brain, then the problem is hardly the business of any "run-of-the-mill psychologist." Instead, the search becomes the exciting, but sadly exclusive endeavor of physiologists and their neurophysiologieal brothers. However, those who hold this point of view need not be embarrassed, for they are in the gracious company of some of science's most esteemed society. Pavlov himself was one of the chief proponents of this view, and he stated his belief quite bluntly: conditioning was the prerogative of the physiologist rather than the psychologist (Pavlov, 1932). If this opinion is proven correct, many of us should realize that our psychological days are numbered. After the neurophysiologist discovers the general locus of "it," a sort of "mop-up" operation can be conducted by chemists and physicists, and the totality of conditioning completely understood. Quite pragmatically, the emblem on the cover of our journal, a maroon but slightly red CR, might in the near future be replaced by a white, but slightly grey protein molecule. Cartesian logic may be experiencing its final labor pains before its scientific rebirth: "I think, therefore, I possess protein molecules." But even while the neurophysiologist, chemist, and other wellintentioned scientists threaten to limit our days of conditional usefulness, others have already declared us "persona non grata" by the simple expedient of declaring the entire notion of conditioning epistemologically meaningless (Efron, 1966). Under assault from such diverse sectors, it might afford a few of us some small comfort to realize that in the extreme we might be able to take refuge in the castles of our ancestral ghosts-a~ter all, ghosts are a bit more difficult to assault. This new look at a very old conditioning problem has been stimulated by the recent avalanche of research articles indicating that autonomic, visceral and neurophysiological processes can "learn" to "behave," can be operantly conditioned, without the benefit of any peripheral mediation. That is, the heart rate may increase or decrease, blood pressure can be altered while heart rate remains stable, alpha rhythms can turn on or off, kidney flow can be increased or decreased, blood vessels in rat's ears can constrict and dilate all through conditioning techniques that effect these changes without the aid of any peripheral mediation. So potent are
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these techniques, that it has been observed that the heart rate of rats can be operantly slowed to the point of total cardiac a r r e s t . . . the rats "shape themselves into their own final reward" (Miller, 1967). Through an accelerated program of successive approximation, perhaps in the not too distant future, cats can be "shaped" to bark, dogs "shaped" to meow, and rats "shaped" to walk on waterl To those educated to believe that such occurrences were verily impossible, the demonstration of such operant control has elicited rumblings of astonishment, and even in some quarters, outright disbelief. However, there are perennial cynics who refuse to be astonished or incredulous. They peevishly point out, like poor sports who have just lost a ball game, that they knew all along that such things could be done; after all, yoga had existed for a long, long time. But peevish poor sports aside, the real issue is, ff "it" was not done by any peripheral mediation, then just how was"it" done? Or, as some of our Japanese colleagues recently phrased this question in a review on this topic, "what was the trick?" Those more sophisticated in these operant matters state that "it" is mediated by central processes. That is, the brain mediates "it." They further note that the trick to "it" is roughly the same trick that occurs in classical conditioning. With a mighty blast from their empirical trumpets, the last remaining walls dividing classical and instrumental conditioning crumbled. A few years have passed since the first trumpets heralded the good news. The last echoes of the blasts are now fading. The dust from the crumbled walls of two-factor conditioning theory has settled. And in the quiet of the moment a mysterious and overwhelming feeling of deja vu wells up inside us. If classical and instrumental conditioning are essentially the same (a view, it appears, that Pavlov held since he credited Thorndike with the discovery of his Pavlovian CR), and the real issue is not whether conditioning occurs in the brain, but where in the brain. - - G r e a t ghosts of Aristotle and Watson! It was Watson among others, who drove the CR out of the brain and into the periphery, only to have the shadows of a hundred conditioning experts frighten the CR back into the brain with curare, d-tubo curarine, crushed nerve roots, spinal preparations, cerebellar stimulation, cortical stimulation. When the great chase finally slowed down, most agreed with courtly scientific statesmanship that the bulk of conditioning does occur in the brain; the issue quieted down, was almost buried. One of those who helped temper the excesses of the great chase was B. F. Skinner. To him it appeared as if this chase was occurring
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on something akin to a carousel, and that the carousel itself was threatening to spin out of control. He began to see the smoke of reflexology rise from the carousel's gear box, and he feared an explosion from a gear box that was, in all likelihood, filled with highly flammable reflexive ghosts. Clearly the most prudent action to prevent chaos was to shut the carousel off, and paint the gear box black. The issue was not worth pursuit. The smoke from the box was carefully extinguished with the baptismal waters of redefinition. Conditioning was re-christened as a "correlation" between a stimulus and a response. Nothing more, and nothing less than a mere correlation. For three decades following this baptism, the black box and the carousel remained dosed, while scores of well trained behavioral engineers took up more worthy vocations as pharmacologists, school teachers, gastroenterologists, cardiologists, space experts, and endocrinologists. The baptism of "it" as a correlation had not only effectively extinguished the smoke pouring from the black box, it also precipitated a headlong flight from the laboratory and from the entire field of conditioning. Our science turned almost totally into a technology. We became zealous missionaries, eager to help everyone else solve his problems. But given the occasional, selfish, perversity of human nature, and the uncontrollable lust of curiosity (stimulated by an idle black box), operant technologists eventually began once more to tinker with the gears of the black box. The conditioning of autonomic systems via the circuitry of the brain was rediscovered, or at least operantly discovered. This rediscovery has in turn led to the present glorious moment. Once more the carousel is slowly turning to the melodeon strains of the lorelei of reflexology. Once more those on the carousel can ask with childlike joy, what mediates conditioning? Somewhat sadly, however, it is clear that many responsible for this happy moment actually started the carousel inadvertently, and they have already stepped off fearing the carousel will again turn too rapidly. They have left to become a new breed of electroencephalographers, cardiologists, nephrologists, and even mystics. But to those who have remained let us ask again, what
mediates conditionirrg? The logic of the thirties (which century is almost irrelevant) is overwhelming-most conditioning does occur in the brain . . . after all ff the periphery has been empirically eliminated, that only leaves the brain. Or does it? Perhaps the problem with research scientists in the thirties was their inordinate fear of other reason-
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able alternatives. Having thought at length about this problem, and having consulted all manner of reasonable, and even some wise men, I have now concluded that this operant control of autonomic responding, in fact all conditioning, is not only mediated by the brain, it is mediated by ghosts. Before such a statement leads to the immediate destruction of the carousel, and before I am declared anathema sit from my behavioral church, let me defend my belief that there are ghosts in conditioning, and that it is to our advantage to recognize that these ghosts have a right to exist. Or ff you will not hear of such a defense, at least let me suggest that it is just as reasonable to credit ghosts with doing "it," as it is to give all the credit to an undeserving brain. This case could be tried in any Behavioral Court: BEHAVIORAL JUDGE: Briefly state your case. EDITORIAL DEFENDANT: Your honor, I accept for the sake of my defense that there is only one type of conditioning, and since this is a Behavioral Court, I further accept the fact that all conditioning is instrumental. I even accept the fact that all conditioning is mediated by the brain. Take as an example the Pavlovian shock paradigm. It is easy to accept the fact that the reason a dog flexes his foot during the CS signalling inescapable shock, is that by conditionally flexing, some of the intensity of the shock must be reduced. That is, the dog flexes his foot to reduce the pain or intensity of the shock. BEHAVIORAL JUDGE: Of course. EDITORIAL DEFENDANT: But your honor, how does the dog know that when he lifts his foot the shock will hurt less? BEHAVIORAL JUDGE: For the control of foot flexion such a question is irrelevant. EDITORIAL DEFENDANT: I realize, your honor, that for controlling flexion, questions about the dog's subjective awareness are irrelevant, but I am not addressing myself to the question of controlling flexion, but to understanding conditional flexion. Isn't the question of how the dog is aware relevant to understanding conditional flexion? BEHAVIORAL JUDGE: Of course not-and such direct questioning borders on scientific impertinence. Questions about a dog's consciousness, awareness, volition, etc., etc.-all are nontestable, nonoperational.
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EDITORIAL DEFENDANT: If I could be permitted to rephrase your statement, your honor, perhaps we are in full agreement. Questions o~ this nature border on being immateriall BEHAVIORAL JUDGE: Then ff we agree, let us stop all this idle chatter, and get on with the business of controlling behavior.
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Epilogue The carousel will be stopped for a few years, but at the very least, let us welcome into our journal all the shadows and ghosts of file children who have been, at one time or another, willing or unwilling riders on the carousel. Let us welcome the ghosts and shadows of Aristotle, Descartes, Sherrington, Pavlov, Eccles, Watson, Skinner, Freud, Tolman, Hull, Harlow, Solomon, Plato, Wundt, Titchner, Gantt, Turner, Schoenfeld, Black, Brady, Whyt% Olds, Dory, Russell, Sperry, Rescorla, Hall. The list could go. on and on, and will go on and on, for as certain as the sun will rise tomorrow, someone will again in future years start the carousel up once more. Certainly this editorial defendant will delight in the ride.
References Efron, R.: The conditioned reflex: a meaningless concept. Perspect. Biol. Med. 9:4, 1966, pp. 488-514. Miller, N.: Comments on a paper presented at the Annual Meeting of the Pavlovian Society o[ North America, 1967, Princeton, N. J. Pavlov, I. P.: Reply of a physiologist to psychologists. Psychol. Rev., 39:2, 1932. Schoenfeld, W. N.: Some old work for modem conditioning theory. Cond. Reflex. 1:219-223, 1966. JAMES J. LYNCH
The Psychiatric Institute, University o[ Maryland School o[ Medicine
