Allan Variables

1. Auflage 2024
ISBN: 978-1-80381-883-2
Verlag: Grosvenor House Publishing
Format: EPUB
Kopierschutz: 6 - ePub Watermark

E-Book, Englisch, 434 Seiten

Neil Denton, a psychology researcher, has reached a crisis in his career: he no longer believes in research, despite its claim to control variables. Everything seems pointless; nothing is proved. No matter how meticulous the research design, there is no way of knowing if there is some overlooked variable. Every study is challenged by a counter study. Dubbed his Hamlet Complex by Rachel Probender, he can't move forward, languishes in a state of inertia, his own PhD research into research at a standstill. Neil works in a department that specialises in replicating classic studies, led by Professor Matlock, famed for replicating Milgram's obedience research in England. Matlock has no doubts. For him, control of variables defines psychology as a science. Ironically, an uncontrolled variable has begun sabotaging the replications, making the department a target of media ridicule. But who and why? The saboteur is remarkably well informed, but who is the informer - a disgruntled insider perhaps? Rachel Probender, colleague and close friend of Neil, is researching the novel Frankenstein. Unknown to both, there is a connection between Frankenstein, the Psychology Department's celebrated research into obedience, and the sabotage. Suspected of being the informer, Neil, helped by Rachel, sets out to identify the informer and along the way resolves his own crisis. Set in the 1990s, the novel is a satire on the pitfalls of separate disciplines and the limitations of psychology as a science, and asks, what is science?

Autoren/Hrsg.

Allan, James

Leseproben

3

Professor Matlock, head of social psychology, harboured no doubts or crisis of faith as he peered down at the small group of freshers, seating carefully arranged, he proximate, all-seeing and seen. He had carefully choreographed the situation, surrounding the students with the trappings of research. They were to choose a module to supplement their main subject and he aimed to persuade them to take psychology. There would be five groups in total and the inductions would take up most of the day. He could have combined them in the hall and given one lecture but considered the hall ‘situationally inappropriate’. The laboratory was the only context: clinical, white walls, impressive apparatus, he in a white lab coat, but not too white, not off-the-shelf crisp white, but long hours in the laboratory white, worn and faded. The coat was integral to the performance, along with his title and the lectern borrowed from the lecture theatre. Situationism was the hallmark of social psychology, but Matlock went further, believing one’s persona varied from situation to situation, his own and the students now shaped by the props of the immediate context, he both the shaper and shaped. The scientist created the laboratory, and the laboratory created the scientist, a transmogrification requiring no Jekyll drug or philosopher’s stone, just the immediate, all-powerful situation.

Stepping back to a huge three-panel, wall-mounted roller board, he wrote in capitals: The situation. Turning, he said, ‘Most people understand we are shaped by two forces in life, commonly known as nurture and nature, our upbringing and our genes, or the interaction of the two. But there is a third variable, commonplace, pervasive and easily overlooked: the immediate situation.’ Returning to the lectern, voice rising, he said, ‘Situations are all around us, are external to us, often beyond awareness, invidiously shaping us. Take architecture.’

He paused momentarily and slowly looked round the laboratory, the students following his gaze to the high-vaulted ceiling. ‘Architecture,’ he repeated. ‘Wasn’t it Churchill who said, “We shape our buildings; thereafter they shape us”. A soaring cathedral points towards God. We are awed, and worship. The illuminated circus tent and supporting music excites. We are prepared to have fun. The solid facade of a bank assures us. We deposit our money. A prestigious university epitomises knowledge. We study.’ He peered over his glasses, and added, ‘We hope.’

The laughter resounded round the laboratory, and as it subsided, he said with levity, ‘And within that prestigious university a laboratory, and within that laboratory a professor issuing commands. We obey.’ He paused, the word obey a cue for the predictable question.

‘Obey?’ asked a voice from the back row.

‘Yes, obey. Some of you will be familiar with obedience studies at A-level, or with parodies on television. You will recall ordinary people obeying the command to apply what they took to be electric shocks, to what they believed to be genuine learners. In the baseline experiment there are two subjects: one a teacher, the other, a learner. One subject is genuine, the other an accomplice. The procedure is rigged so that the accomplice is always the learner. Most obey to the very end and apply the highest shock levels for wrong answers, even when the learner protests, pleads to be released, bangs on the wall and finally falls silent.

‘At the time, some dismissed Milgram’s now classic study. They said it was American, only what you would expect of Americans. The English, they said, are different. The criticism of Americans gave me an idea. Some years ago, I replicated the entire study in England, here at this university. I got similar results. English obedience was slightly lower, but only slightly. Regardless of personality, education, sex, class or nationality, most obeyed and administered what they thought to be dangerous electric shocks to people they didn’t know and bore no animosity. Obeyed the situation, you understand. These were not bad people, but ordinary people in a bad situation.’

He stepped back to the board and wrote: Situations equal behaviour, and connected it to the word situation.

‘Milgram was probably the first to study obedience experimentally, and there have been numerous replications and variations across cultures and across time. All show similar levels of obedience, and all show obedience has not declined since Milgram did his pioneering study in the early sixties.’

He piled on more studies, showing the power of the situation over the individual, how a powerful situation overrides disposition, personality and attitudes.

‘We like to believe we are not controlled by others. We like to believe we are free and independent. You see, you can’t rely on what people say. That’s why we need experiments. If you remember one thing today, remember this: who we are is less important than where we are.’

Stepping back to the blackboard he wrote, again in capitals: Experimentation.

‘What words come to mind?’ He lifted his arm. ‘Give me some key words.’

‘Control.’

‘Control of variables.’

‘Testability.’

‘Good. Excellent. Control and testability are key words. Separating cause and effect. And how difficult that is, and how easy to confuse correlations with causes, coincidence as cause and effect. But there is something else; something missing. Control, testability and…’

After some hesitation a student said, ‘Replication?’

‘Excellent. To be a true experiment it must be open to replication.’

Matlock wrote the three words on the board.

He decided on a short break to let them wander the laboratory to peer in at the various soundproof cubicles running the length of one side, and be awed by the impressive equipment, particularly his shock machine. They broke into small groups and roamed the laboratory. Helmets resembling hair curlers caused a few giggles. Matlock mingled, explained apparatus. He noticed a group standing near his shock machine taken out of storage, cleaned and polished for the occasion. He felt deep satisfaction at the interest being shown. As he approached, part of the group fell silent, averted eye contact and moved away. One he recognised, arms folded throughout his lecture, recalled his failure to laugh at his jokes.

*

Seated at the front, arms folded, the student looked from side to side and said, ‘We have a question. ‘Didn’t Orne say volunteer subjects in experiments want to help the experimenter succeed, work out the result the experimenter wants and act accordingly? Not obedience after all, just a wish to please. “Demand characteristics”, isn’t that the term?’

Matlock nodded.

‘Doesn’t that invalidate experimentation on humans?’

Taking control of the knowledge, Matlock stepped forward, leaned over the lectern and said, ‘Professor Martin Orne, to give him his full title, professor of psychiatry and psychology at the University of Pennsylvania. Ingenious as Orne’s arguments are, he is wrong about the obedience experiments.’

The student smiled skeptically.

‘Now you’re thinking, he would say that, wouldn’t he?’ He paused for laughter. ‘How could he possibly know the subjects of his experiments were not pretending?’

His voice now brisk, he said, ‘How did I know? Two kinds of evidence. For a start, subjects visibly suffered during my obedience experiments. For Orne to be correct, we have to believe subjects feigned stuttering, sweating, trembling and hysterical laughter, all to please the experimenter.’ He shook his head. ‘Still not conclusive, you’re thinking? God, you’re a skeptical lot. And rightly so. What was needed was a test, so I asked three independent observers to debrief a random sample of subjects and load the question in favour of Orne’s hypothesis. “C’mon, you surely saw through it? You must have worked out what the experiment was about?” Over ninety per cent said they were convinced the experiment was genuine. A few had doubts. Just a few.’

Once he would have cited Sheridan and King’s replication using puppies and real electric shocks, where most of the male and all the female subjects obeyed to the end despite the puppies visibly squealing and jumping around; obeyed to the end despite showing obvious conflict and distress, some crying. A decisive repudiation of Orne. But animal welfare was now a moot point. He wanted to win over the students to psychology, not alienate them, and momentarily consoled himself knowing other disciplines had similar problems, the liberal malaise everywhere. Even literature. A colleague told him he had stopped teaching George Orwell’s Shooting an Elephant due to protests. Orwell, a colonial officer in pre-war Burma, is forced to shoot a rogue elephant which has caused mayhem, including a death. Orwell doesn’t want to shoot the elephant but feels pressured by the situation, namely the huge crowd of local Burmese looking on expectantly. Orwell pumps bullet after bullet, but the animal just lies there making a dreadful noise. For years the students sympathised with Orwell’s dilemma, some even showing amusement at the elephant’s stubborn refusal to die. Then slowly concern shifted from Orwell to the elephant, first a lone voice, then a chorus, then a crescendo: ‘He didn’t have to kill the elephant. He had a choice’.

‘Right, that’s Orne dealt with. Now the Freudians.’ Matlock’s tone was happier; Freud easier to refute than Orne. ‘Some Freudians told me the subjects didn’t so much obey as enjoy,...