Running head: ORIGINS OF BEHAVIORISM
Origins of Behaviorism
Name
School
Date
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ORIGINS OF BEHAVIORISM
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Origins of Behaviorism
Clark, R. E. (2004). The classical origins of Pavlov's conditioning. Integrative Physiological and
Behavioral Science, 39(4), 279-294. Retrieved from
https://lopes.idm.oclc.org/login?url=http://search.ebscohost.com/login.aspx?direct=true&
db=a9h&AN=18518244&site=ehost-live&scope=site
In this comparative study the writer examined when classical conditioning was adopted in
Russia and in the United States and why those terminologies used to define and identify
the components of classical conditioning have been modified with time, Clark (2004)
found that classical conditioning was discovered in Russia in 1880 by Pavlov. After
feeding dogs and observed the sham feedings, where food was eaten but fail to reach the
stomach, it was noted through laboratory experiment that whenever dogs are exposed to
the same glass of carbon bisulphide, they produce saliva.
The classical conditioning was adopted in Russia in 1903 after Pavlov presented his study
to Congress. The study also found that the concept of classical conditioning was adopted
in 1906 in the United States after Robert Yerkes conducted a study. According to the
author, the terminologies used to define the components of classical conditioning have
been changing in order to fit the social constructs. Even though the study is important in
exposing how classical conditioning was discovered, it is more subjective in nature.
Digdon, N., Powell, R. A., & Harris, B. (2014). Little Albert's alleged neurological
impairment. History of Psychology, 17(4), 312-324. Retrieved from
https://lopes.idm.oclc.org/login?url=http://search.ebscohost.com/login.aspx?direct=true&
db=pdh&AN=2014-30397-001&site=ehost-live&scope=site
ORIGINS OF BEHAVIORISM
3
In his study, the author reexamined the claim that “Little Albert”, the infant that Rayner
and Watson used in their study to examine conditioned fear, where they found that even
though the claims cannot be substantially concluded, their study discovered the concept
of ethics when conducting the research. The author found that Rayner and Watson are
likely to have known of the condition of Albert before conducting the study.
The author also concluded that neurologically impaired Douglas was not the Little
Albert. Even though the study conducted by DIgdon uses a well-research qualitative and
quantitative data to demystify the research conducted by Fridlund, the limitations of the
study are that the methods used to analyze the data do not offer a true reflection of the
study sample. The observation of the film obscure important information to be properly
studied hence it cannot be used to make a rational decision.
Green, C. D. (2009). Darwinian theory, functionalism, and the first American psychological
revolution. American Psychologist, 64(2), 75-83. doi: 10.1037/a0013338.
In this paper, the author explored the development and growth of functionalism, whereas
it was found that functionalism has been the ground within which behaviorism rooted and
started to grow into a dominant form of psychology. With the growth of American
functionalism psychology, English evolutionary theory has begun to grow significantly.
With the growth of functionalism, Darwinian Theory has grown with time.
This study is important because it helps to unearth the effects functionalism has had on
evolution theory such as Darwinian Theory. It offers a clear indication that there is a
close correlation between Darwinian Theory and functionalism. Even though the theory
has the aforementioned benefits, the study has some limitations such as; it is difficult to
access the validity, it has limited scope, and difficult to subject to empirical study.
ORIGINS OF BEHAVIORISM
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Therefore, there is a need for more studies to examine the deep interplay between
functionalism and Darwinian Theory.
Moore, J. (2011). Behaviorism. The Psychological Record, 61(3), 449-464. Retrieved from
https://lopes.idm.oclc.org/login?url=http://search.ebscohost.com/login.aspx?direct=true&
db=ehh&AN=65033133&site=ehost-live&scope=site
In this study, the author looks to explore the growth and development of behaviorism,
where he determined that behaviorism has changed with time from the early studies that
were initially conducted by Watson. To examine the shift in the behaviorism, the author
examines the study conducted by Watson and modern studies that have been conducted
within the same field of behaviorism. The author found that early studies that were
conducted by Watson assume that the mental life was appropriate for subject matter for
psychology.
The author also discovered that Watson’s behaviorism was not sufficient to examine the
subject matter for psychology. Particularly, he argues that Watson did not consider the
cognitive processes that were vehemently discovered by Skinner. The study conducted by
this author is important because it exposes the growth of behaviorism over time. Despite
the merits of the study, the study is more subjective and does not rely on well-researched
point of view.
Watson, J. B. (1913). Psychology as the behaviorist views it. Psychological Review, 20(2), 158177. doi:10.1037/h0074428
In this study, the author examines how consciousness affects the mental life for
psychology, he found that psychology is purely objective, experimental branch of natural
science that require introspection as little as doing science of physics and chemistry.
ORIGINS OF BEHAVIORISM
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Watson argues that the behavior of animals can be studied without the need to appeal to
consciousness. Watson believes that the behavior of animals and man are important when
understanding the consciousness.
The author also found that eliminating the state of consciousness, as proper objects of
investigation helps to remove barriers from psychology that usually exist in other studies.
This study is important because it helps in understanding the correlation between
consciousness and structures that make up physic-chemical compositions. Even though
the study contained well-researched facts that can be used to make informed conclusions,
some of the notable weaknesses of the study include lack of grounded facts and limited
validity and reliability.
ORIGINS OF BEHAVIORISM
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Origins of Behaviorism
I.
II.
III.
Introduction
In the contemporary society, the concept of behaviorism is one of the most research
topics in the field of psychology. Over time, there have been numerous studies,
hypotheses, and research that have been conducted to examine the origins of behaviorism
and propulsion behind its development. To examine the development of behaviorism, this
paper is structured to trace the origins of behaviorism and the impetus for its development
in the future.
Development of behaviorism
a. Earlier schools of thought
i. Functionalism
Functionalism is an early school of thought within which behaviorism
roots started to grow into a dominant form of psychology (Green, 2009). It
is based on the premise that mental state of an individual solely constitutes
what it does rather than what it is made of. The underlying premise is that
mental aspects dictate behavior.
ii. Animal psychology
Animal psychology is a school of thought that examines the behavior of
animals in order to shade light on how animals react to stimulus. Pavlov is
one of the renowned psychologists that conducted a study on dogs to
examine how it responds to stimuli, food in this case.
b. Limitations of introspection and study of the consciousness
Cognitive biases are a major stumbling block for introspection. Basically, it is
prone to human biases hence reduces the validity of the study. The study of
consciousness is prone to skewed judgment.
c. Beginnings of the study of behavior
i. Pavlov
Pavlov was a Russian psychologist well-known for his studies on classical
conditioning (Clark, 2009). Pavlov conducted a study on dogs to examine
how they respond to triggers (foods). He noted that dogs salivate when
food are brought closer.
ii. Watson
Watson was born in 1978 at Travelers Rest, South Carolina. Watson
conducted a study to examine how consciousness affects the mental life of
both animals and human beings (Watson, 1913).
d. Why did behaviorism emerge?
It emerges as a result of various experiments that were conducted to examine
observable stimulus behaviors. Behaviorism emerges to unearth conditioning and
also to analyze why animals and human being respond in certain ways.
e. What distinguishes behaviorism from other schools of thought?
Behaviorism is a unique discipline because it strives to examine the interaction
between behaviors and certain environmental factors. It is primarily conducted to
understand the behavior of animals and humans.
Ivan Petrovich Pavlov
a. What did Pavlov study?
ORIGINS OF BEHAVIORISM
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V.
VI.
7
Pavlov conducted a study on dogs to examine how they respond to triggers
(foods). He noted that dogs salivate when food is brought closer (Clark, 2009).
b. Why was it important?
The study on dogs is important because it exposes the operant and classical
conditioning that make animals to respond in certain ways.
c. How did it shape the emerging school of behaviorism?
The study on dogs contributed emergence of wide arrays of studies that lead to the
discovery of external stimulus (operant and classical) conditioning. He extended
the definitions of choleric, melancholic, phlegmatic, and sanguine.
d. What lasting effect did this person/research have on psychology?
Pavlov contributed to the growth of involuntary reflex actions, conditioning, and
temperament.
John B. Watson
a. What did Watson study?
Watson conducted a study on the white rat to examine the effects nervous system
and consciousness has on behavior (Watson, 1913). He describes the relationship
between learning ability in rats and brain myelination at different ages.
b. Why was it important?
The study is important because it exposes how consciousness dictates human and
animal responses to stimuli.
c. How did it shape the emerging school of behaviorism?
The study conducted by Watson brings to limelight the concepts of consciousness,
language, memory, and speech to the field of behaviorism.
d. What lasting effect did this person/research have on psychology?
Watson address “psychology as Behaviorist View It” in 1913 and various studies
promoted a change in child rearing, animal behavior, and even advertising.
B. F. Skinner
a. What did Skinner study?
Skinner conducted a study on rats and pigeons and uses food as stimulus. He uses
what is currently known as the operant chamber.
b. Why was it important?
The study conducted by Skinner has been essential because it has brought about
operant conditioning and the concepts of positive and negative reinforcements
(Green, 1913).
c. How did it shape the emerging school of behaviorism?
The study conducted by B. F. Skinner brings to limelight the concept of positive
and negative reinforcements to the school of behaviorism.
d. What lasting effect did this person/research have on psychology?
B. F. Skinner is remembered in the field of psychology for his operant
conditioning and reinforcement.
Conclusion
The field of behaviorism has been significantly grown with time. With the wide arrays of
studies conducted by great psychologist like Skinner, Watson, Pavlov, and others, it is
beyond reasonable doubt that behaviorism. With the huge momentum, behaviorism is
likely to grow into a huge field to study.
ORIGINS OF BEHAVIORISM
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References
Clark, R. E. (2004). The classical origins of Pavlov's conditioning. Integrative Physiological and
Behavioral Science, 39(4), 279-294. Retrieved from
https://lopes.idm.oclc.org/login?url=http://search.ebscohost.com/login.aspx?direct=true&
db=a9h&AN=18518244&site=ehost-live&scope=site
Digdon, N., Powell, R. A., & Harris, B. (2014). Little Albert's alleged neurological
impairment. History of Psychology, 17(4), 312-324. Retrieved from
https://lopes.idm.oclc.org/login?url=http://search.ebscohost.com/login.aspx?direct=true&
db=pdh&AN=2014-30397-001&site=ehost-live&scope=site
Green, C. D. (2009). Darwinian theory, functionalism, and the first American psychological
revolution. American Psychologist, 64(2), 75-83. doi: 10.1037/a0013338.
Moore, J. (2011). Behaviorism. The Psychological Record, 61(3), 449-464. Retrieved from
https://lopes.idm.oclc.org/login?url=http://search.ebscohost.com/login.aspx?direct=true&
db=ehh&AN=65033133&site=ehost-live&scope=site
Watson, J. B. (1913). Psychology as the behaviorist views it. Psychological Review, 20(2), 158177. doi:10.1037/h0074428
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The Classical Origins of Pavlov’s Conditioning
ROBERT E. CLARK1,2
1
Veterans Affairs Medical Center, San Diego, 92161
Department of Psychiatry, University of California, San Diego, La Jolla, CA 92093
2
This article presents a brief description of the scientific discovery of classical conditioning
both in the United States and in Russia. The incorporation of classical conditioning as a scientific method in the United States is described. Particular attention is given to how and
why the terminologies used to identify the components of classical conditioning were modified over the years. I then trace the curious evolution of the terminology associated with
Pavlov’s form of conditioning, from its introduction to the United States as “the Pawlow1
salivary reflex method” to its present appellation as classical conditioning. Finally I conclude by developing a theory as to when and why the term classical conditioning was
adopted.
IN THE MOST BASIC FORM of classical conditioning, the stimulus that predicts the occurrence of
another stimulus is termed the conditioned stimulus (CS). The predicted stimulus is termed the
unconditioned stimulus (US). The CS is a relatively neutral stimulus that can be detected by the
organism, but does not initially induce a reliable behavioral response. The US is a stimulus that can
reliably induce a measurable response from the first presentation. The response that is elicited by the
presentation of the US is termed the unconditioned response (UR). The term “unconditioned” is used
to indicate that the response is “not learned,” but rather it is an innate or reflexive response to the US.
With repeated presentations of the CS followed by US (referred to as paired training) the CS begins
to elicit a conditioned response (CR). Here the term “conditioned” is used to indicate that the response is “learned.”
The Discovery of Classical Conditioning
Edwin Burket Twitmyer (1873–1943)
The phenomenon of classical conditioning was discovered independently in the United States and
Russia around the turn of the nineteenth century. In the United States, Edwin B. Twitmyer (Figure 1)
made this discovery at the University of Pennsylvania while finishing his dissertation work on the
“knee-jerk” reflex. When the patellar tendon is lightly tapped with a doctor’s hammer, the wellknown “knee-jerk” reflex is elicited. Twitmyer had initially intended to study the magnitude of the
Address for Correpondence: Robert E. Clark, Ph.D., Department of Psychiatry, 0603, University of California,
San Diego, La Jolla, CA 92093. E-mail: reclark@ucsd.edu
Integrative Physiological & Behavioral Science, October–December 2004, Vol. 39, No. 4, 279–294.
279
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FIG. 1. Photograph of Edwin Burket Twitmyer (1873–1943). Twitmyer was a professor of psychology and director of the
Psychological Laboratory and Clinic at the University of Pennsylvania.
reflex under normal and facilitating conditions (Figure 2, apparatus). In the facilitating conditions the
subjects were asked to verbalize the word “ah,” or to clench their fists, or to imagine clenching their
fists (Twitmyer, 1973).2 A bell that was struck one-half second before the patellar tendon was tapped,
served as signal for the subjects to begin verbalizing or fist clenching (or imagining fist clenching).
Twitmyer observed:
“during the adjustment of the apparatus for an earlier group of experiments with one subject . . .
a decided kick of both legs was observed to follow a tap of the signal bell occurring without the
usual blow of the hammers on the tendons. . . . Two alternatives presented themselves. Either
(1) the subject was in error in his introspective observation and had voluntarily moved his legs,
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FIG. 2. This (circa 1903) photograph shows a young subject and the experimental apparatus Twitmyer used to measure the
magnitude of the knee-jerk reflex (see http://www.psych.upenn.edu/history/twittext.htm for details).
or (2) the true knee jerk (or a movement resembling it in appearance) had been produced by a
stimulus other than the usual one.” (Irwin, 1943: 452).
Twitmyer conducted a number of follow-up studies that convinced him his initial observations
were not an artifact. He was able to demonstrate the phenomenon with every subject he tested (n
6) and determined that the new type of response required between 150 and 238 previous pairings of
the bell and patellar tap. Subsequent interviewing indicated that the subjects insisted that the responses were not voluntary and in some causes could not be voluntarily inhibited by the subject.
Twitmyer reported these findings in a paper entitled “Knee-jerks without stimulation of the patellar
tendon” (Twitmyer, 1905) at the Thirteenth Annual Meeting of the American Psychological Association held in Philadelphia in 1904. Though the meeting was attended by America’s most distin-
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guished psychologists and presided over by William James, the presentation was met with silence
and failed to stimulate any questions or discussion (Irwin, 1943). In his dissertation, Twitmyer provided a thoughtful physiological explanation for how this phenomenon might be acquired and concluded by stating:
The results of the experiments herein reported, however, would seem to indicate that it is only
after a habit of interaction between the two involved centers has been developed by repetition,
i.e., when the connecting pathway of discharge has become well worn, that the sound of the bell
alone is an adequate stimulus to the movement (Coon, 1982: 257).
Twitmyer’s physiological explanation was highly reminiscent of William James’ physiological
description of habit formation in his book Principle of Psychology: “The currents, once in, must find
a way out. In getting out they leave their traces in the paths which they take. The only thing they can
do, in short, is to deepen old paths or to make new ones.” (James, 1890: 112). James also provided a
discussion of the patellar reflex and how it could be modified (increased) by the simultaneous stimulation of other sensory systems (e.g., by the application of heat, cold, pricking, or faradic stimulation
of the skin) (James, 1890: 380). Thus, his silence following Twitmyer’s presentation is somewhat
surprising.3
Twitmyer apparently did not fully appreciate the potential significance of this finding beyond
recording this initial observation and the work was never extended. It has been suggested that Twitmyer’s failure to systematically investigate this phenomenon and the lack of interest exhibited by his
colleagues who heard the presentation was likely due in part to the prevailing American zeitgeist
where interest in delineating the components of consciousness through introspection was the principle perspective (Irwin, 1943; Coon, 1982). Thus, Twitmyer and his contemporaries would have been
predisposed to undervalue the usefulness, to the field of psychology, of something as basic as a modifiable reflex. This was not the case in Russia.
Ivan Petrovich Pavlov (1849–1936)
The Russian discovery of classical conditioning comes from the pioneering work of I.P. Pavlov
(Figure 3). In 1904, Pavlov was awarded the Nobel Prize in medicine for his work on the physiology
of digestion. This early research, which used dogs as experimental subjects, set the stage for observing the phenomenon of classical conditioning. As early 1880, Pavlov and his associates observed that
sham feedings, in which food was eaten, but failed to reach the stomach (being lost through a surgically implanted esophageal fistula) produced gastric secretions, just like real food.
Pavlov’s laboratory modified this preparation in order to simplify the forthcoming studies. Rather
than measure gastric secretions, they began measuring salivation. Salivation was chosen because an
efficient and highly practical method of measuring salivation using a permanently implanted fistula had just been developed in the laboratory (Pavlov, 1951; Windholz, 1986). In 1897, Stefan
Wolfson (also translated as Sigizmund Vul’fson), a doctoral student of Pavlov, made an important
observation:
We place before the nose of the dog a glass of carbon bisulphide . . . from its two salivary
glands flows saliva . . . we stimulate the dog a few times with the same glass of carbon bisulphide. The saliva flows each time. Now we substitute surreptitiously an identical glass containing water. The dog salivates again, although with a smaller quantity of saliva (translated in
Windholz, 1986: 142).
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FIG. 3. Photograph of Ivan Petrovich Pavlov (1849–1936).
Pavlov immediately recognized the significance of these findings, findings that would ultimately
lead him to change the direction of his research to explore this phenomenon. His initial results were
officially presented to the International Congress of Medicine held in Madrid Spain in 1903. This
report was entitled “Experimental psychology and psychopathology in animals.”
Anton Snarsky, another of Pavlov’s students, conducted similar work. Initially this learned behavior was described in terms of the subject’s inner thoughts. Thus, “psychic secretion” was used to
emphasize the mental nature of the behavior and to distinguish it from the unlearned physiological
reflex. The noun “secretion” was in all likelihood a convenient holdover from the work on digestion
and yet was still accurate when referring to salivation. Though Snarsky continued to prefer the term
psychic secretion, Pavlov quickly grew to dislike the subjective connotation of the term and the subjective explanation of the phenomenon. Pavlov was clearly uncomfortable with Snarsky’s anthropomorphizing (Windholz, 1986). “I [Pavlov], putting aside fantasy . . . decided finally . . . to remain
in the role of pure physiologist” (Pavlov, 1928: 38–39). Accordingly, in 1903, I.E. Tolochinov, a
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researcher working in Pavlov’s laboratory communicated a paper to the Congress of Natural Sciences
in Helsingfors that changed the term psychic secretion to the “conditional reflex” (Pavlov, 1927).
Tolochinov acknowledged that this change in terminology was originally suggested by Pavlov
(Tolochinov, 1912; Windholz, 1986).
The Emergence of Classical Conditioning in the United States
Pavlov’s work on classical conditioning was essentially unknown in the United States until 1906
when his lecture “The scientific investigation of the psychical faculties or processes in the higher animals” was published in the journal Science (Pavlov, 1906). In 1909 Robert Yerkes (1876–1956), who
would later become president of the American Psychological Association, and Sergius Morgulis published an extensive review of the methods and results obtained by Pavlov, which they described as
“now widely known as the Pawlow salivary reflex method” (Yerkes & Morgulis, 1909: 257).
Initially Pavlov and his associates used the term conditional rather than conditioned. Yet Yerkes
and Morgulis chose to use the term conditioned. They explained their choice of terms in a footnote:
Conditioned and unconditioned are the terms used in the only discussion of this subject by
Pawlow which has appeared in English. The Russian terms, however, have as their English
equivalents conditional and unconditional. But as it seems highly probable that Professor
Pawlow sanctioned the terms conditioned and unconditioned, which appear in the Huxley lecture (Lancet, 1906), we shall use them (Yerkes & Morgulis, 1909: 259).
The terms conditioned reflex and unconditioned reflex were used during the first two decades of
the twentieth century during which time this type of learning was often referred to as “reflexology.”
In 1921, the first textbook devoted to conditioning (General Psychology in Terms of Behavior)
adopted the terms conditioned and unconditioned “response” to replace the term “reflex” (Smith &
Guthrie, 1921). De-emphasizing the concept of a reflex and instead using a more general term like
response allowed a larger range of behaviors to be examined with conditioning procedures.
Florence Mateer conducted the pioneering work with classical condition in the United States from
1914–1916 (Mateer, 1918). She used children and covered their eyes just before giving them food.
Though these reports provided a true flavor of the potential value of classical conditioning, psychologists did not immediately embrace the method. This changed when John B. Watson (1878–1958),
championed the use of classical conditioning as a research tool for psychological investigations. During 1915, his student Karl Lashley, conducted several exploratory conditioning experiments in Watson’s laboratory. Watson’s presidential address, delivered in 1915 to the American Psychological
Association, was entitled “The place of the conditioned reflex in psychology” (Watson, 1916). Watson was highly influential in the rapid incorporation of classical conditioning into American psychology. Though this influence did not appear to extend to his student. Lashley became frustrated with his
attempts to classically condition the salivary response in humans (Lashley, 1916) and permanently
abandoned the paradigm. In 1920, Watson’s work with classical conditioning culminated in the now
infamous case of “Little Albert.”
Albert B. was an 11-month-old boy who had no natural fear of white rats. Watson and Rosalie
Rayner used the white rat as a CS. The US was a loud noise that always upset the child. By pairing the
white rat and the loud noise, Albert began to cry and show fear of the white rat—a CR. With successive training sessions over the course of several months, Watson and Rayner were able to demonstrate
that this fear of white rats generalized to other furry objects (Watson & Rayner, 1920). The plan had
been to then systematically remove this fear using methods that Pavlov had shown would eliminate or
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extinguish the conditioned response, in this case, fear of furry white objects. Unfortunately, “Little
Albert,” as he has historically come to be known, was removed from the study by his mother on the
day these procedures were to begin. Unfortunately, there is no known reliable account of how this
experiment on classical conditioning of fear ultimately affected Albert B. Nevertheless, this example
of classical conditioning may be the most famous single case in the literature on classical conditioning.
The end of the beginning of classical conditioning as a paradigm in the United States can be traced
to the 1927 publication of Pavlov’s book Conditioned Reflexes, which was translated into English by
a former student, G.V. Anrep (Pavlov, 1927). This made all of Pavlov’s conditioning work available
in English for the first time. The availability of 25 years worth of Pavlov’s research, in vivid detail,
led to increased interest in the experimental examination of classical conditioning, an interest that has
continued to this day.
How Pavlov’s Conditioning Became Classical Conditioning
Often times it is possible to precisely identify the time and reason a new scientific term is introduced. Generally this is possible because the author of the new term describes the reasons for introducing the new term and justifies why the particular term was chosen. For example, the term instrumental conditioning was coined by Clark Hull and he chose this term to describe the type of learning
where the subject’s response is “instrumental” in obtaining the reinforcement (Bolles, 1993: 317).
Operant conditioning was chosen by B.F. Skinner (1904–1990) to describe a similar type of learning
because the subject must perform a behavioral operation to obtain reinforcement.
Only in the most rare cases do authors comment on the use of the term classical conditioning, and
in these cases the term is typically and inaccurately attributed to John Watson. This is understandable
because Watson was largely responsible for publicizing the method of classical conditioning and outlining how classical conditioning could be used for scientific investigation. However, Watson never
actually used the term classical conditioning, instead referring to it as simply the “conditioned
reflex.” The 1930 edition of Behaviorism was his last significant scientific publication and although
the process of classical conditioning is referenced extensively, the term was never used (Watson,
1930). This is ironic because Watson has been criticized for his choice of the term classical conditioning (e.g., Gormezano et al., 1987: p ix).
Before the 1940s, the process of classical conditioning was most often referred to as the conditioned reflex, or simply as conditioning. This general description was initially sufficient because at
that time, Pavlov’s type of conditioning was essentially the only game in town. However, by the
1930s scientists were beginning to understand that the laws governing the learning paradigms where
reinforcement was contingent upon the organism’s behavior appeared to be fundamentally separate
from the laws governing the conditioned reflex. The latter type of learning would come be known as
instrumental or operant conditioning. Beginning in the late 1920s, scientists began to grapple with the
best way to understand these learning processes. Could they be distilled to one fundamental learning
process or was it necessary to treat them separately, and if separately, what were the critical elements
for distinguishing the two?
As early as 1928 theorists were beginning to suggests a distinction between forms of conditioning.
For example, Ivanov Smolensky suggested that the term “conditiono-unconditioned reflexes” be
used to describe Pavlov’s type of conditioning and “conditiono-conditioned reflexes” be used to
describe a response contingent type of conditioning (Konorski, 1968: 215).
In 1928, Ivan Pavlov received a letter from two Polish medical students who suggested that they
might have evidence of a different type of conditioned response. Jerzy Konorski (Figure 4) and
Stefan Miller’s experiments were based on Pavlov’s work with dogs and salivation. However, their
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FIG. 4. A photograph of Jerzy Konorski (1903–1973) which accompanied his autobiography (Konorski, 1974).
modified paradigm had subtle but important differences. In one version, the sound of a metronome
was presented just before the dog’s forepaw was lifted by the experimenter which was then followed
by the presentation of food (salivation was also measured). Eventually the sound induced the dog to
salivate and, importantly, lift his own leg (see Windholz & Wyrwicka, 1996 for details). While these
studies grew out of Konorski and Miller’s attempts to study more complex forms of compound conditioning, they came to believe that this type of learning (where the dog moved his own leg), was a
fundamentally different form of conditioning from Pavlov’s. Though these observations would prove
to be prescient, Konorski and Miller were never able to convince Pavlov that a fundamental distinction existed between the leg lifting response and the salivary response. This is spite of the fact that
both Konorski and Miller came to Russia to work in Pavlov’s laboratory to continue their work
(Konorski stayed for two years and Miller4 for a few months). Pavlov continued to maintain that
while their work clearly extended his work, this “new” type of conditioned response was not fundamentally different from the conditioned responses of previous work (Windholz, 1996).
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By 1935 B.F. Skinner (Figure 5) entered this discussion in earnest when he published a paper
titled “Two types of conditioned reflexes and a pseudo-type” (Skinner, 1935). This was a theoretical paper where Skinner attempted to add clarity and structure to distinguish two types of conditioned reflexes. Figure 6 (modified from Skinner, 1935) is a schematic that Skinner used to illustrate
the important differences between what he termed “Type I” conditioning and “Type II” conditioning. The technical details regarding how Skinner characterized these two types of conditioned
responses are beyond the scope of the present article. For the present purpose, the two types can be
simply distinguished as follows: In Type I conditioning, a response (R0) necessarily intervenes
between S0 and S1 (Figure 6A). That is R0 must occur before S1 is presented. In Type II, R0 is irrelevant with respect to the presentation of S1 (Figure 6B). It is clear that Skinner’s Type I corresponds
to what would eventually be termed operant conditioning and Type II corresponds to Pavlov’s type
of conditioning.
In 1940 Ernest R. Hilgard (Figure 7) and Donald G. Marquis published a highly regarded textbook
entitled Conditioning and Learning (Hilgard & Marquis, 1940). The authors take great care in distin-
FIG. 5. Burrhus Frederic Skinner (1904–1990).
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FIG. 6. A schematic from Skinner’s 1935 theoretical paper that is meant to illustrate the difference between Type I (operant), and Type II (classical conditioning). The critical difference between the two forms of conditioning is that for Type I, a
response (R0) necessarily intervenes between the stimuli (S0 and S1). In contrast, R0 does not intervene between (S0 and S1).
guishing two types of conditioned responses. The two forms of conditioning were discusses in different chapters. Chapter 2 was titled “Classical Conditioning Experiments” and Chapter 3 was titled
“Instrumental Conditioning Experiments.” Chapter 2 was probably the first published example where
the term “classical conditioning” was used to describe classical conditioning. Hilgard and Marquis
(1940) described the components of classical conditioning in a manner that is entirely consistent with
how it would be described today:
The essential features of the conditioning experiment are the following: (1) an unconditioned
stimulus which, in the experimental situation, evokes a regular and measurable unconditioned
response, (2) a conditioned stimulus which originally does not evoke the unconditioned response,
(3) repeated presentation of the conditioned and unconditioned stimuli in a controlled and specified manner. Any new or altered response to the conditioned stimulus whose occurrence depends upon the repeated double stimulation is called a conditioned response (p. 27).
Hilgard and Marquis described instrumental conditioning in modern terms and also indicated why
the term “instrumental” was used: “When the occurrence of the reinforcement is contingent upon the
organism’s behavior the procedure may be termed instrumental conditioning, since the conditioned
response is instrumental in bringing about the reinforcement” (p. 51).
Unfortunately, Hilgard and Marquis never gave any explicit explanation as to why the term “classical conditioning” was chosen or if another individual coined this term. Their textbook contained
973 references in total and not a single one of these reference titles contained the term classical conditioning. Thus, it seemly likely that Hilgard and Marquis should be credited with introducing the
term classical conditioning. A short statement in Hilgard’s 1974 autobiography seems to confirm this
suggestion (Hilgard, 1974).
The book with Marquis brought conditioning and other kinds of learning together into a sensible synthesis. The terms “classical” and “instrumental” conditioning were introduced, as alter-
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FIG. 7. In this circa 1930 photograph, Ernest Hilgard (seated) is being prepared (by Professor Walter Shipley and postdoctoral student Helen Peak) to serve as a subject in an eyeblink classical conditioning experiment. The visor-wearing
observer is Clark Hull. While a puff of air to the eyelid has become the standard unconditioned stimulus, during the time of this
photograph, the unconditioned stimulus was a slap in the face delivered by an automated wooden “face-slapper” (photograph
and details provided courtesy of Richard F. Thompson).
native to Skinner’s “respondent” and “operant,” to indicate that the chief differences were in
experimental arrangements rather than in underlying processes (p. 155).
This statement would seem to imply that Hilgard named both classical and instrumental conditioning. Yet we know unequivocally that Hull coined the term instrumental conditioning. What Hilgard is actually indicating is why he chose not to use Skinner’s terms and not why the word “classical” conditioning was chosen. It thus appears that one can only speculate as to why this term was
adopted.
Haggling over Conditioning Types and the Terms to Represent Them
As noted above, Skinner published his theoretical paper and introduced the terms “Type I” to refer
what we now call instrumental or operant conditioning, and “Type II” to refer to what is now called
classical conditioning. Importantly, Jerzy Konorski and Stefan Miller published a theoretical paper
where they described their own work and criticized Skinner’s distinction between two types of conditioned reflex (Konorski & Miller, 1937). More specifically, there was agreement with respect to
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Pavlov’s type of conditioning, but disagreement over the type of learning they described as “habit
formation by the method of ‘prize and punishment.’” The details of the theoretical differences
between Skinner and Konorski are not relevant for the present purpose. However, there are two pertinent reasons for addressing this paper. First, the issue of nomenclature regarding the two types of
reflexes was prominent in this paper. Konorski and Miller objected to Skinner’s terminology.
To begin with, a little remark on terminology for the sake of avoiding confusion of terms. In
our first paper published in 1928 (Konorski & Miller, 1928) we made a discrimination between
the ordinary conditioned reflex and a new type of reflex, which, by all appearances, corresponds to Skinner’s Type I. That new type we have named “the conditioned reflex Type II,”
since in relation to the classical Pavlovian conditioned reflex it presents a next form of conditioning (p. 265).
Konorski and Miller felt that since the details of Pavlovian conditioning were described first they
should be Type I, the new reflex, Type II (i.e., in order of discovery) and subsequent types, should
they be discovered, as Type III and so on. For the record, this “new” type of learning was not new
at all. It was essentially the same form of learning as first described by Morgan (1894). Later,
Thorndike (1898) elaborated on this type of learning, which he called “trial, error, and accidental
success.” The issue of what type of learning should be first was made irrelevant because in Skinner’s reply to Konorski and Miller (Skinner, 1937), he completely dropped the terms Type I and
Type II and replaced them with “S” (S to indicate that the stimuli are the important variables) for
Konorski’s Type I (i.e., classical conditioning) and “R” (R to indicate that the response is the most
important variable) for Konorski’s Type II (i.e., operant conditioning). Only later would Skinner
settle on the terms “respondent” and “operant” to distinguish classical and operant conditioning
respectively.
In any case, Konorski and Miller’s paper is important for the present purpose because had the term
“classical conditioning” been in use at the time of this paper, the term would have certainly been used
when discussing terminology, but the term classical conditioning was not mentioned. This is important because it indicates that in all likelihood, the term “classical conditioning” was not in use before
1937. The second reason this paper is important relates to how Konorski and Miller refer to their
Type I reflex. On several occasions they refer to the Type I reflex as corresponding to “classical
Pavlovian conditioning.” In this case “Pavlovian conditioning” refers to the type of learning process,
and “classical” refers to the fact that this type of conditioning was well known. These theoretical
papers of Konorski and Miller and of Skinner were prominent and influential and were discussed in
detail by Hilgard and Marquis in their textbook Conditioning and Learning (1940).
It seems likely then that the term classical conditioning was adopted by Hilgard and Marquis as a
contraction of the descriptive phase “classical Pavlovian conditioning.” Thus, the term classical conditioning was used to denote the “well known” (i.e. classic) type of conditioning used by Pavlov.
We can say with certainty then that classical conditioning was used to describe Pavlovian conditioning as early as 1940. Yet, the term does not appear to have been immediately adopted. Figure 8
shows the cumulative number of citations between the years 1935 and 1960 that included classical
conditioning in the title or abstract. For comparison purposes, the cumulative number of citations
that included Pavlovian conditioning in the title or abstract is also plotted. Notice that it wasn’t until
the early 1950s that more than a couple of articles a year were published that contained the term
classical conditioning. As late as 1948, it still was not clear what terms would ultimately be used to
describe the different forms of conditioning. For example, Konorski revisited the issue of terminology when he remarked in his book Conditioned Reflexes and Neuron Organization, that it was
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FIG. 8. This graph shows the cumulative number of citations identified by “Pub Med” that included the term “classical
conditioning” in the title or abstract between 1935 and 1960. For comparison, the cumulative number of citations that included
the term “Pavlovian conditioning” is also included.
unclear what convention to use as “it is difficult to foresee which terminology will be ultimately
accepted, in this book I use those terms which we have introduced in 1928” [Type I & Type II]
(Konorski, 1948: 215).
One possible reason classical conditioning was not readily adopted was that there was still a good
deal of debate as to whether classical conditioning was fundamentally different from operant conditioning. Additionally, there were a number of “two-factor” theories that suggested conditioning
began when the subject learned the significance of environmental events (classical conditioning), and
then subsequently learned to influence those events (instrumental/operant conditioning).
However, in 1955 Gregory Razran pointed out a difference between the two types of conditioning that was so striking, it seemed impossible that the two types of conditioning could be reduced to
a single form. Razran reviewed more than 100 extinction experiments from Pavlov’s laboratory. He
then compared the findings with Skinner’s work with operant conditioning (Razran, 1955). The
critical factor was “the vast quantitative differences between the two with respect to extinction and
the partial reinforcement effect” (p. 489). Razran reported that in Pavlov’s work, conditioning
scarcely survives a few dozen nonreinforced trials. Whereas in Skinner’s work, large fixed reinforcement ratios are possible and in fact, protects against extinction. Razran titled his paper Operant vs. classical conditioning (Razran, 1955). Note in Figure 8, following the 1955 Razran publication, there was a striking increase in the number of papers that contained the term classical
conditioning in the title or abstract. The term classical conditioning has been firmly entrenched in
the field of psychology ever since.
Final Thoughts
Just over a century ago I.P. Pavlov and E.B. Twitmyer independently discovered the phenomenon
of classical conditioning. Classical conditioning continues to have a profound influence on the fields
of psychology and behavioral neuroscience. It is interesting to consider that Pavlov and his associates
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not only discovered the learning process of classical conditioning, they then went on to identify almost
all of the major components of classical conditioning (i.e. conditioned and unconditioned stimuli and
responses), developed the primary paradigms of delay, trace, simultaneous, and backward conditioning and identified and described many of the parameters that influence the process of classical conditioning. They also described acquisition, extinction, spontaneous recovery and disinhibition, as well
as higher order conditioning, second-signal systems, conditioned discriminations, and experimental
neurosis (e.g., Thorne & Henley, 2001: 327–329). Thus, Pavlov has more than earned the distinction
as the discoverer of classical conditioning and it is fitting that his name can be used as an adjective
(Pavlovian) to describe classical conditioning. It is however, ironic to consider that although Twitmyer remained in relative obscurity, his single attempt to cast his newly discovered phenomenon in
terms of neurophysiology, was in retrospect, far closer to modern-day concepts than any of Pavlov’s
theories, which were based on at least 532 papers published on the cerebral involvement in conditioning. Pavlov remained convinced that processes like acquisition, extinction, and generalization
were the exclusive function of the cerebral cortex. Criticisms of Pavlov’s theories have been well
documented (see Windholz & Grimsley, 1992 for a review), and in the light of our present knowledge, it is clear that Pavlov grossly underestimated the contribution subcortical structures make to
classical conditioning.
In contrast, and though brief in description, Twitmyer’s theory regarding the neurophysiology of
the conditioned patellar tendon reflex was not only prescient, but entirely consistent with current
work. According to Twitmyer:
After a certain number of such trials [bell-tap-kick], the number varying for different subjects,
the association of the sound of the bell and the kick becomes so fixed that the bell itself is capable of serving as a stimulus to the movement. Physiologically the repeated association of the
functioning of the motor cells in the lumbar segment of the cord, upon which the kick immediately depends, with the excitation of centers in the nuclei of the medulla connected with the
auditory conduction path, has resulted in developing a fixed relationship between them. The
impulse entering the latter therefore finds an accustomed channel to the former . . . [Thus], the
sound of the bell alone is an adequate stimulus to the movement (Coon, 1982: 257).
Twitmyer’s discovery was a form of conditioning that is now referred to as classical conditioning of a somatic muscle response and the neurobiology of this form of conditioning has been
extensively delineated in the classically conditioned eyeblink response paradigm (for review see
Christian & Thompson, 2003). Twitmyer suggested that through repeated pairings of the bell and
hammer-induced patellar reflex, the auditory centers develop the ability to drive the motor centers
in the medulla that are responsible for the unlearned reflex. Today we know this is essentially how
the system works. During the course of conditioning, auditory centers in the cochlear and pontine
nuclei that relay the information concerning the ringing of the bell become functionally connected
to brainstem premotor and motor centers. This functional connection between sensory and motor
centers is mediated by essential plasticity that occurs in an intervening neural structure known as
the cerebellum.
Acknowledgements
This work was supported by the Medical Research Service of the Department of Veterans Affairs,
the National Science Foundation (0237053), and the James S. McDonnell Foundation (21002077).
I thank Natalie Shanks for assistance.
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Notes
1. “Pawlow” is the German spelling of Pavlov and the convention used by Yerkes and Morgulis (1909).
2. In 1974 David A. Grant was the editor of the Journal of Experimental Psychology, and he contributed Twitmyer’s doctoral dissertation to be posthumously published, 74 years after it was first privately published in
1902.
3. According to Coon (1982), Twitmyer’s explanation for the lack of response following his presentation was
“due to William James’s becoming bored or hungry at noontime and adjourning the meeting without allowing for discussion of the paper” (p. 258).
4. Stefan Miller was an important early collaborator of Jerzy Konorski. Unfortunately, Miller did not survive
the outbreak of World War II. He and his wife committed suicide during the extermination of Jews by the
Nazis (Konorski, 1974).
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Coon, D.J. (1982). Eponymy, obscurity, Twitmyer, and Pavlov. Journal of the History of the Behavioral Sciences, 18, 255–262.
Gormezano, I., Prosy, W.F., & Thompson, R.F. (1987). Classical Conditioning. New Jersey: Lawrence Erlbaum
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Konorski, J. & Miller, S. (1937). On two types of conditioned reflex. Journal of General Psychology, 16, 264–
272.
Lashley, J.S. (1916). The human salivary reflex and its use in psychology. Psychological Review, 23, 446–464.
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Pavlov, I.P. (1906). The scientific investigation of the psychical faculties or processes in the higher animals.
Science, 24, 613–619.
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Sobranie Sochinenii. Moskva, Leningrad: Izdatel’stvo Akademii Nauk SSSR.
Razran, G. (1955). Operant vs. classical conditioning, American Journal of Psychology, 68, 489–490.
Skinner, B.F. (1935). Two types of conditioned reflex and a pseudo-type. Journal of General Psychology, 12,
66–77.
Smith, S., & Guthrie, E.R. (1921). General psychology in terms of behavior. New York, Appleton.
Thorndike, E.L. (1898). Animal intelligence. An experimental study of the associative processes in animals.
Psychological Monographs, 2, 109.
Tolochinov, I.E. (1912). The initial development of the method of conditional reflexes and the formulation of the
term “conditional reflex.” Russkii Vrach, 31, 1277–1282.
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Twitmyer, E.B. (1905). Knee-jerks without stimulation of the patellar tendon. Psychological Bulletin, 2, 43–44.
Watson, J.B. (1916). The place of the conditioned-reflex in psychology. Psychological Review, 23, 89–116.
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Watson, J.B. & Rayner, R. (1920). Conditioned emotional reactions. Journal of Experimental Psychology, 3,
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Windholz, G. (1986). A comparative analysis of the conditional reflex discoveries of Pavlov and Twitmyer, and
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History of Psychology
2014, Vol. 17, No. 4, 312–324
© 2014 American Psychological Association
1093-4510/14/$12.00 http://dx.doi.org/10.1037/a0037325
This document is copyrighted by the American Psychological Association or one of its allied publishers.
This article is intended solely for the personal use of the individual user and is not to be disseminated broadly.
LITTLE ALBERT’S ALLEGED NEUROLOGICAL IMPAIRMENT
Watson, Rayner, and Historical Revision
Nancy Digdon and Russell A. Powell
Ben Harris
Grant MacEwan University
University of New Hampshire
In 2012, Fridlund, Beck, Goldie, and Irons (2012) announced that “Little Albert”—the
infant that Watson and Rayner used in their 1920 study of conditioned fear (Watson &
Rayner, 1920)—was not the healthy child the researchers described him to be, but was
neurologically impaired almost from birth. Fridlund et al. also alleged that Watson had
committed serious ethical breaches in regard to this research. Our article reexamines the
evidentiary bases for these claims and arrives at an alternative interpretation of Albert
as a normal infant. In order to set the stage for our interpretation, we first briefly
describe the historical context for the Albert study, as well as how the study has been
construed and revised since 1920. We then discuss the evidentiary issues in some detail,
focusing on Fridlund et al.’s analysis of the film footage of Albert, and on the context
within which Watson and Rayner conducted their study. In closing, we return to
historical matters to speculate about why historiographical disputes matter and what the
story of neurologically impaired Albert might be telling us about the discipline of
psychology today.
Keywords: John B. Watson, Little Albert, ethics, history of behaviorism
Historians of psychology know Albert B.
(also called “Little Albert”) as the 11-month-old
infant who Watson and Rayner (1920) tried to
condition to fear a white rat and other animals
and objects. In 2009, Beck, Levinson, and Irons
(Beck, Levinson, & Irons, 2009) announced that
they had used census and other records to find a
baby, Douglas Merritte, whose age and mother’s occupation matched Watson and Rayner’s
description of Albert. They also reported that
the world would never know whether Albert
This article was published Online First July 28, 2014.
Nancy Digdon and Russell A. Powell, Department of
Psychology, Grant MacEwan University; Ben Harris, Department of Psychology, University of New Hampshire.
We thank Hugh McKenzie, Nicole Anderson, Anna
Pham, and staff at the Alan M. Chesney Medical Archives
for their assistance in our investigation. We also thank Gary
Irons for allowing us to access Douglas Merritte’s medical
file. Finally, we are grateful to the participants at the 2013
Cheiron and Association for Applied Behavioral Analysis
International conferences for providing helpful feedback on
presentations related to this research.
Correspondence concerning this article should be addressed to Nancy Digdon, Department of Psychology, Grant
MacEwan University, P. O. Box 1796, Edmonton, Alberta,
Canada T5J 4S2. E-mail: digdonn@macewan.ca
312
(Douglas) had grown up with a fear of furry
animals because he died a few years after the
experiment. According to Beck et al. (2009),
“the robust child shown in Watson’s [1923] film
became sickly” (p. 613), developing hydrocephalus in 1922 and dying in 1925.
Then, in 2012, Fridlund, Beck, Goldie, and
Irons (2012) announced a new twist to the Albert story—that he had been neurologically impaired almost from birth. They reported the
discovery of previously overlooked signs of
neurological impairment in the film sequences
of Albert (Watson, 1923), which were seemingly confirmed by Douglas’s medical file—
discovered at Johns Hopkins University (JHU)
in 2010 —which revealed that he had been diagnosed with hydrocephalus soon after birth.
Thus, Albert was not the healthy child that
Watson and Rayner (1920) had claimed him to
be, but was instead a severely ill child during
the time of Watson and Rayner’s research. Fridlund et al. also alleged that Watson likely knew
of Douglas’s illness when selecting him for the
study, and then deliberately hid this fact in
published accounts of the case.
Needless to say, this new revelation, if accurate, calls for a rewriting of the Watson and
This document is copyrighted by the American Psychological Association or one of its allied publishers.
This article is intended solely for the personal use of the individual user and is not to be disseminated broadly.
LITTLE ALBERT’S ALLEGED NEUROLOGICAL IMPAIRMENT
Rayner (1920) study, its significance to the field
of psychology, and its importance to the history
of science and medicine. An alternative conclusion, however, is that the neurologically impaired Douglas was not Little Albert. But Fridlund et al. (2012) rejected this possibility, a
major reason being “the absence of an alternative candidate meeting even a subset of the
[Albert] criteria” (p. 317) in the way that Douglas Merritte does.
Recently, we located another infant—Albert
Barger—whose age and parentage match the
Little Albert story as well as Douglas Merritte
does (Powell, Digdon, Harris, & Smithson, in
press). Like Douglas Merritte, Albert Barger
was 8 months 26 days old at the time the study
likely began in early December 1919; in fact,
his birth certificate indicates that he was born on
March 9, 1919 (Health Department City of Baltimore, Certificate of Birth, 1919), the same day
that Douglas Merritte was born (Beck et al.,
2009). Albert Barger’s patient file at the Alan
Chesney Medical Archives at JHU confirms that
his mother (Pearl Barger), like Little Albert’s
mother, worked as a wet nurse at the hospital at
the time of the Albert study (Barger Medical
File [BMF], May 14, 1919, to March 31, 1920).
In addition to his age and mother’s occupation, however, Albert Barger, but not Douglas
Merritte, matches several other characteristics
of Little Albert. Albert Barger’s name is consistent with “Albert B.,” which is the name
Watson and Rayner (1920) called Little Albert.
Albert Barger was also very well developed and
in excellent health when he was admitted to the
hospital (“the child has always been well and is
considered a healthy infant”; BMF, May 14,
1919), which is consistent with Watson and
Rayner’s (1920) assertion that Albert B. was
“one of the best developed youngsters ever
brought to the hospital” (p. 1). Additionally,
Albert Barger was removed from the hospital at
the age of 1 year 21 days (BMF, March 31,
1920), which is exactly the age that Little Albert
was reported to have been when he left the
hospital on the final day of the study (Watson &
Rayner, 1920). By contrast, Douglas Merritte
was discharged from the hospital at only 1 year
15 days of age (Merritte Medical File [MMF],
March 24, 1920).1
Another point of comparison is bodyweight.
Albert Barger weighed 21 pounds 15 ounces
when he was 8 months 25 days old (BMF,
313
December 5, 1919), which is notable because it
is a reasonable approximation to Little Albert’s
reported weight of 21 pounds at 9 months of age
(Watson & Rayner, 1920). Moreover, Albert
Barger’s weight is heavy compared with other
9-month-olds in that era, whose average weight
was 17.5 pounds (Faber, 1920), and is at about
the 75th percentile of modern growth charts
(World Health Organization, 2006). It is also
consistent with Little Albert’s chubby appearance (see Figures 1, 2, and 3). By contrast,
Douglas Merritte weighed 14 pounds 15 ounces
at that age (MMF, December 5, 1919), which
was below what was regarded as a minimum
healthy weight of 16 pounds in that era (Faber,
1920), and at only the 1st percentile of modern
growth charts (World Health Organization,
2006). Douglas’s extremely low body weight is
a major discrepancy with Little Albert’s chubby
appearance in the film, making it highly unlikely that Douglas was Albert.2
On the other hand, if Fridlund et al. (2012)
are correct that Little Albert was neurologically
impaired, then Albert Barger could not have
been Little Albert either, despite the many similarities between the two Alberts. Thus, our
article examines the data and arguments presented by Fridlund et al. We argue that the
evidence does not stand up to scrutiny. But
before looking at these evidentiary issues, we
first provide a brief discussion of the historical
context in which the Little Albert study occurred, as well as how the study has been received and construed since its publication in
1920. Today, the Little Albert study is sometimes considered one of the classic studies in
psychology, but beliefs about its scholarly significance, as well as its narrative, have not been
timeless (Harris, 1979; Samelson, 1980). The
1
Gary Irons, Douglas Merritte’s next of kin, provided a
letter to the Johns Hopkins Hospital Board granting permission for the second author of this article to view and take
notes from Douglas’s medical file. In accordance with Mr.
Iron’s request, we hereby acknowledge that his granting us
access to the file does not mean that he either concurs or
disagrees with any statements or conclusions we make in
publications utilizing this information.
2
Douglas was notably underweight during his entire hospital stay and never reached 21 pounds (MMF, April 17,
1919, to March 20, 1920). Fridlund et al. (2012) did not
report Douglas’s weight, although it is readily available in
the medical file’s nursing notes, feeding charts, and graphs
showing how his weight fluctuated over time.
This document is copyrighted by the American Psychological Association or one of its allied publishers.
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314
DIGDON, POWELL, AND HARRIS
Figure 1. Albert appears to be making eye contact with
Watson in a manner that could be construed as social
referencing (source: Watson, 1923).
scientific understanding of children (including
their fears) that could serve as the foundation
for reforms (White, 1992). This research, however, was mostly based on surveys and other
nonexperimental methods, and lacked the
strong theoretical focus needed to guide application. It thus failed to inspire much in the way
of reform, which led to the movement’s demise
around 1910 (Davidson & Benjamin, 1987).
But societal appetite for a scientific understanding of children remained, and Watson and
Rayner’s (1920) study likely fed into this unsatisfied hunger.
The Little Albert research was the first to
attempt to systematically manipulate a child’s
fears. As such, it could potentially isolate conditions under which a child’s fears appear and
disappear. In fact, Watson and Rayner’s goals
for the study were both to condition the occurrence of fear and then later remove it, although
Albert and his mother left the hospital before
the latter goal could be attempted. As a result,
the study served mostly to validate Watson’s
(1919) theory of emotional development. Watson theorized that only three emotions were
innate—fear, love, and rage— each of which
story of a neurologically impaired Albert joins
the ranks of various other revisions to Albert’s
story. We speculate about how the zeitgeist of
the time might influence which version of Albert’s story gains traction. In the closing section
of the article, we return to historical matters and
speculate about why historiographical disputes
matter—and why they can be enlightening. We
also ask what the story of a neurologically impaired Albert might be telling us about the discipline of psychology today.
Background Information
The Little Albert study was set in the late
progressive era when Americans were keen to
apply scientific psychology for the public good.
Americans were optimistic that scientific psychology could be used to shape reforms in social welfare, education, child rearing, criminal
justice, and mental hygiene—just as science had
already improved efficiency and profits in private business through the adoption of scientific
management (see Jansz & van Drunen, 2004,
for reviews). During the early 1900s, G. Stanley
Hall’s child study movement aimed to furnish a
Figure 2. Albert, at age 8 months 26 days, is using a
pincer grasp to pick up a marble, securing it between his
thumb and forefinger (source: Watson, 1923).
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LITTLE ALBERT’S ALLEGED NEUROLOGICAL IMPAIRMENT
Figure 3. This clip from the baseline session shows Albert’s ability to creep on his hands and feet, also known as
“bear walking,” which is a transitional stage between crawling and walking that occurs in some infants (source: Watson, 1923).
was elicited by a limited number of stimuli. For
instance, Watson believed that loud noise and
falling were the only stimuli that naturally elicited fear, with all other fear eliciting stimuli
being the result of conditioning. In order to test
this theory, Watson and Rayner (1920) chose
“Albert B.” deliberately because of his young
age, controlled upbringing in the hospital
(which ensured that he had no prior experiences
with the stimuli used in the study, such as a rat),
and phlegmatic disposition (which, in their
view, made him more resilient and less likely to
suffer significant harm).
The study began with a baseline session when
Albert was 8 months 26 days old. The baseline
showed that Albert was not afraid of such stimuli as a white rat, a dog, a rabbit, or fire, but was
afraid of a loud noise. This meant that a loud
noise could be used as an unconditioned stimulus in the conditioning of a fear response to
other stimuli. The conditioning session—which
occurred when Albert was 11 months 3 days—
consisted of pairing the loud noise with the
presentation of the rat. According to Watson
and Rayner (1920), after two such pairings,
Albert began to display a fear response to the
rat. Subsequent sessions with Albert, which
sometimes included additional conditioning trials, assessed the persistence of Albert’s fear of
the rat, as well as the extent to which the fear
had generalized to other furry objects and animals. Albert’s age during these later sessions
ranged from 11 months 10 days to 12 months 21
days.3
Although some contemporary psychologists
view Little Albert as Watson’s most famous
315
research (see Beck et al., 2009), early scholars
did not regard it as pivotal. For instance, Edwin
Boring’s (1929/1957) history of experimental
psychology devotes 12 pages to behaviorism,
and cites several of Watson’s publications, but
not the Little Albert study. The same is true of
Edna Heidbreder’s (1933/1961) book on seven
psychologies, which has a 53-page chapter on
behaviorism. Nevertheless, Heidbreder notes
that Watson “is not content merely to observe
children’s fears and to note the conditions in
which they are acquired and lost; he sees most
of those fears as avoidable mishaps, and he
seeks ways and means of removing them” (p.
257). Heidbreder’s impression likely came from
Watson’s writings after 1920, including his
best-selling book, Psychological Care of Infant
and Child (published in 1928), and Watson’s
numerous magazine articles and radio interviews. As Harris (1984) noted,
by the end of the decade [1929], millions had heard
about the new, behavioristic view of child rearing,
marriage and family life. Regardless of whether the
public completely believed these popularized concepts
of Watson, his writings were soon required reading for
the middle classes—rivaling psychoanalysis as the
popular psychology of the moment. (p. 127)
Two researchers who did cite the Little Albert study—Bregman (1934) and Valentine
(1930)—were unable to replicate Watson and
Rayner’s (1920) results and pointed out methodological flaws in the study. Most importantly,
they disagreed with Watson’s theory that innate
fears were limited to loud sounds and falling.
Valentine, for example, argued that other innate
fears are not necessarily expressed at birth, but
may emerge later because of maturation rather
than conditioning.
Although the Watson and Rayner (1920) article did not fare particularly well in terms of its
scholarly impact, it did become a regular feature
in undergraduate textbooks, beginning in 1921
(see Todd, 1994, for a review). Within a few
years, it was firmly rooted in the canon of the
3
In addition to the 1920 report in Journal of Experimental Psychology, Watson and Rayner described the Albert
study in a 1921 issue of the popular journal Scientific
Monthly (Watson and Watson, 1921). Interestingly, Watson
cites only this nonacademic source when referring to Albert
in his later publications (cf. Watson, 1924, 1930), perhaps
because of his estrangement from academic psychology by
that time (see Buckley, 1994).
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316
DIGDON, POWELL, AND HARRIS
introductory psychology curriculum and was a
frequent topic in other courses such as abnormal
psychology (LeUnes, 1983). Within this venue,
as the Little Albert story was told and retold, it
mutated into several versions. Harris (1979)
found that textbook authors often improved the
narrative or made the story more sensational.
Some authors also bolstered the study’s method
and interpretability, perhaps reflecting psychologists’ general belief in methodological rigor as
the hallmark of science, although some viewed
this focus as excessive (see Köhler, 1959). As
Samelson (1980) noted, the Little Albert study
could not have become enshrined as the paradigm for
human conditioning on the basis of its hard scientific
evidence . . . The extraordinary appeal of the Albert
story must have come from the fact that it was, especially in streamlined presentation, a beautiful illustration of an idea already congenial to its audience. (p.
621)
Accordingly, some textbook authors cast Little Albert as a pioneer in the history of psychology. For instance, Krech, Crutchfield, Livson,
Wilson, and Parducci (1982) claimed that Little
Albert bestowed upon Watson an important
honor: “Watson had conditioned the first experimentally induced human neurosis!” (p. 215),
and that Watson’s writings on removing fear
laid the basis for the behavior therapies of the
1950s and 1960s. Yet the pioneering behavior
therapist Arnold Lazarus (1991) asserts that the
use of Little Albert’s case as the proof for the
“radical behavioristic notion that ‘avoidance behavior’ is conditioned and maintained entirely
by overt consequences, has retarded clinical
progress” (p. 446). Similarly, Wolpe credits
Pavlov, not Watson, as the inspiration for the
later development of treatments to eliminate
conditioned fears (see Wolpe & Plaud, 1997).
As well, Watson and Rayner’s recommended
technique for removing fears—“by showing objects calling out fear responses (visual) and simultaneously stimulating the erogenous zones
(tactual). We should try first the lips, then the
nipples and as a final resort the sex organs”
(Watson & Rayner, 1920, p. 7)— bears little
resemblance to later behavior therapies.
Another significant change to the Little Albert story can be traced to the mid-1970s, when
psychologists started to view the study through
a new lens—that of the unethical experiment
that prioritized researchers’ goals over rights of
research participants. In the words of Resnick
(1974), “Watson and Raynor’s [sic] work surely
does stand as a monument to the experimental
ingenuity and unsound ethical judgment of
early American psychology. Possibly, the two
go hand in hand” (p.112). This new construal of
the Albert study conformed to an emerging concern. Since World War II, psychologists had
been confronted with a seemingly endless number of past (and current) studies in which research participants had been mistreated, beginning with the tragedies that inspired the
Nuremberg Code (see Kimmel, 2007, for a review). In 1968, the American Psychological
Association (APA) commissioned the so-called
Cook Committee to survey over 9,000 APA
members about their awareness of unethical research practices, which would be used to inform
upcoming revisions to the APA’s code of ethics
(Stark, 2010). Within this context, it is not surprising that the Little Albert study—which had
flown under the “ethics radar” for several decades—was now reinterpreted as a violation of
Albert’s rights. These concerns about Albert’s
plight mirrored psychology’s broader quest to
protect the rights of all research participants,
who were no longer seen as mere research “subjects.”
Given the growing concern about ethics in
the 1970s, it is perhaps not surprising that it
coincided with the first published account of a
psychologist’s search for Albert’s real identity
(Murray, 1973). As a victim of unethical research, Albert’s fate was perhaps now more
relevant— did he suffer permanent harm from
the study? Although Murray’s attempt to locate
Albert was unsuccessful, Resnick (1974) commented “that a continued search [for Albert’s
identity] is essential if we are to provide any
sense of closure for our students with respect to
outcomes of psychological experiments” (p.
112). Nevertheless, Albert’s identity remained a
mystery until Beck and colleagues (2009) revealed that Albert was Douglas Merritte. Beck
et al.’s revelation seemed to be a major breakthrough and was met with much excitement and
fanfare. The APA’s Monitor on Psychology ran
the featured story, “Little Albert Regains His
Identity,” proclaiming that “one of psychology’s greatest mysteries appears to have been
solved” (DeAngelis, 2010)—though some
scholars remained skeptical (Harris, 2011; Powell, 2010, 2011; Reese, 2010).
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LITTLE ALBERT’S ALLEGED NEUROLOGICAL IMPAIRMENT
It was against this backdrop, that Fridlund et
al. (2012) proposed that Douglas/Albert had
contracted hydrocephalus at a much younger
age than previously assumed, and had been the
victim of extremely unethical behavior on the
part of Watson. Needless to say, this created
even more of a stir than the Beck et al. (2009)
discovery of Douglas. The Chronicle of Higher
Education ran the feature story, “A New Twist
in the Sad Saga of Little Albert,” announcing
that “if Fridlund is right, the story of Little
Albert will become even sadder and the legacy
of Watson significantly more tattered” (Bartlett,
2012). Albert’s neurological status and its ethical implications had now become the central
detail in this latest retelling of the Albert story.
Accordingly, in the next section of this article,
we reexamine Fridlund et al.’s evidence for
Albert’s neurological impairment.
Film Analysis and Diagnosis of Little
Albert’s Neurological Status
Fridlund et al. (2012) claimed that Little Albert was neurologically impaired because he
appeared to have serious behavioral deficits in
Watson’s (1923) film, Experimental Investigation of Babies. Powell et al. (in press) argue that
this evidence suffers from numerous weaknesses, several of which are outlined here.
The first major weakness is that the film’s
portrayal of Albert is extremely limited. The
film is silent, shot from a single camera angle,
and somewhat blurry. Albert appears for a total
of 5 min, and this footage is comprised of 34
brief clips, varying in duration from 2 to 31 s
(M ⫽ 9 s, SD ⫽ 6 s). The clips are spliced
together into longer segments. They focus on
Albert’s reactions to the animals and objects he
was being shown, which was the stated purpose
of the study (Watson & Rayner, 1920). Thus,
off-task behaviors were most likely omitted
from the film—which, given the choppiness of
the film, may have been frequent. The film also
contains no footage of Albert’s normal behavior
outside the laboratory setting. The film should
therefore not be regarded as a representative
sampling of Albert’s normal behavior, without
which, any appraisal of deficits in Albert’s behavior is, at best, highly speculative.
Powell et al. (in press) contend that the selective nature of the film clips may account for
Fridlund et al.’s (2012) observation that Albert
317
was unusually “stimulus bound,” focused only
on the stimuli in front of him, with little or no
awareness of the people around him. If the clips
were selected to show Albert’s reactions to the
stimuli presented to him rather than to people,
his behavior would naturally appear stimulus
bound. This, in turn, means that Fridlund et al.’s
conclusion that Albert displays no evidence of
social referencing—which is an infant’s tendency to look toward adults when confronted
with a novel or feared stimulus (Campos &
Stenberg, 1981)—is unjustified, given the nature of the film. Additionally, Fridlund et al.’s
contention that certain instances in the film in
which Albert does appear to look at Watson
should be dismissed because “no evidence is provided of mutual gaze, or that Albert sees Watson”
(p. 307) also seems unjustified. As shown in Figure 1, however, one could just as easily argue that
Albert does see Watson and that social referencing
is occurring.
Fridlund et al. (2012) also claimed that the
film reveals deficits in Albert’s motor skill development, especially his handling of objects:
“He [Albert] scooped at the [play] block. . . .
very primitive scooping, normally there’s pincer midline play by 8 months’” (Goldie quote,
p. 309); “Albert’s movements and responses
suggest neurological abnormality [including]
hand-scooping in lieu of pincer-grasp movements” (p. 310). But Fridlund et al. failed to
mention that the film also portrays Albert using
a variety of age-appropriate grasps, including a
well-formed pincer grasp when handling a
small marble (see Figure 2). Related to this,
another film clip shows Albert crawling on
hands and feet (see Figure 3), which suggests
that he was on the cusp of walking. The fact that
Albert was mobile by 9 months is difficult to
reconcile with Fridlund et al.’s report that
Douglas Merritte never learned to walk.
Fridlund et al. (2012) concluded that Albert
was significantly language delayed because
there was no sign of him using language in the
silent film, and because Watson and Rayner
(1920) mentioned only a single instance of him
talking. Powell et al., however, point out that
both the film and Watson and Rayner’s report
were intended to document Albert’s reactions to
stimuli; thus, there would have been little or no
reason to document language use, which is a
largely social behavior. Add to this the difficulties of assessing language use from a silent
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318
DIGDON, POWELL, AND HARRIS
film—which Fridlund et al. acknowledged—
and the evidence for Albert’s lack of language
development appears highly questionable. Furthermore, the criteria that Fridlund et al. used
for normal language development—that Albert,
by that age, should have been “chattering and
already possess a several word vocabulary” (p.
307)—seems far too stringent when compared
with Gesell’s (1925) language norms for that
era,4 as well as with Bridges’ (1933) study of
language development in institutionally raised
infants.
In addition to doing his analysis of the film,
Fridlund asked his coauthor, Goldie (who is a
pediatric neurologist), as well as Waterman
(who is a clinical psychologist, cited in Endnote
5) to do blind analyses of the film, knowing
only that the infant was a 9-month-old “whose
cognitive and neurological status was uncertain” (Fridlund et al., 2012, p. 309). Both perceived Albert to be unusually passive, showing
“no startle to animals” (Goldie quote, p. 309)
and being “less reactive to both the flame and
the dog than you’d expect” (Waterman quote, p.
322). But Powell et al. (in press) argue that the
significance of Albert’s passivity would be difficult to assess without knowing that he had
lived at the hospital almost since birth and had
never before seen the animals and other stimuli.
Watson and Watson (1921) write that other
normal infants living at JHU hospital around
the same time as Albert—all children of wet
nurses—were also noticeably unresponsive to
novel objects and animals: “Our results seem to
show conclusively that when children are
brought up in an extremely sheltered environment . . . fears are not present” for a rat, rabbit,
bird, or dog, “no matter how close the dog was
made to come” (p. 509; see also Watson, 1919).
Thus, Albert’s muted reactions to stimuli were
typical of other infants in his cohort, and in
comparison with them, would be considered
normal.
Following his observation of the film, Goldie
speculated that “his [Albert’s] condition could
be anything” (Fridlund et al., 2012, p. 309), and
he tentatively diagnosed Albert as having autism, retardation, or “leukodystrophy (a deterioration of myelin in the brain)” (p. 309). Powell
et al. (in press) note that false-positive diagnoses can be a major problem when assessing the
behavior and neurological status of young infants (see Valentine, 1965; Werner, Dawson,
Osterling, & Dinno, 2000). In the Werner et al.
(2000) study, for example, a pediatrician with
expertise in developmental disabilities viewed
films of children at 8 to 10 months of age, and
on this basis, judged whether they had autism.
Although the pediatrician accurately detected
autism in 14 of 15 children later diagnosed with
it, she also had a high false-positive rate, incorrectly diagnosing autism in 8 of 15 normal
children. Werner et al. cautioned that
the period between 9 and 12 months is a time when
many new behaviors are just beginning to develop.
Many complex behaviors related to social, emotional,
and communicative functioning begin to emerge
around 8 –9 months, but these behaviors, such as advanced use of joint attention and communicative vocalizations are not solidly in place until at least age 1.
There may still be significant variation in the development of these skills in the normal population at this
time, making it more difficult to detect group differences. (p. 161)
Likewise, the Diagnostic and Statistical
Manual of Mental Disorders (4th ed., text rev.;
American Psychiatric Association, 2000) cautions that autism is difficult to diagnose in infants because “manifestations of this disorder in
infancy are more subtle and difficult to define
than those seen after age 2 years” (p. 73). The
conditions under which Goldie evaluated Little
Albert’s behavior—from a choppy, poor-quality
silent film, and with no knowledge of Albert’s
sheltered upbringing—may have particularly
exacerbated these diagnostic difficulties.
Circumstances at JHU Hospital
We next consider the context and conditions
at the hospital under which Watson and Rayner
conducted their research. As noted by Fridlund
et al. (2012), the JHU campus was small, and
the Phipps Clinic where Watson conducted his
research was located next to the building that
housed the wet nurses and their babies (i.e., the
Harriet Lane Home for Invalid Children). Fridlund et al. speculated that Watson likely knew
4
Gesell expressed the norms as letter ratings that corresponded to percentile ranges: A⫹ ⫽ 1% to 19%; A ⫽ 20%
to 49%; B⫹ ⫽ 50% to 64%; B ⫽ 65% to 84%; and C ⫽
85% to 100%. Using this scoring system, vocalization at 4
months is a B. “Saying ‘mama,’ ‘dada’ or the equivalent
syllables” (p. 62) is an A⫹ at 6 months and a B at 9 months
(i.e., Albert’s approximate age at baseline). Moreover, infants were scored an A if they could say one word at 9
months, and A⫹ if they could say two words.
LITTLE ALBERT’S ALLEGED NEUROLOGICAL IMPAIRMENT
of Douglas’s impairment when he selected Albert B. for the study:
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It strains credulity to suggest that no one would have
mentioned Albert’s health problems, especially since
Watson and Rayner (1920) report that their initial
impressions of Albert’s responses “were confirmed by
the casual observations of the mother and hospital
attendants.” (p. 319)
In our opinion, however, it also strains credulity to imagine a scenario whereby Watson
could have chosen Douglas for the study, and
then fraudulently describe him as the healthy,
well-developed “Albert B.” This ruse would
have had to occur while in close proximity to
many other professionals,5 at least some of
whom would likely have been familiar with
both Douglas and Albert Barger. Watson’s laboratory was reportedly open to colleagues and
visitors that Watson wanted to impress. “Although sentimentalists sometimes feel while
visiting our laboratory that our work may be a
little hard on the infant[s] . . . ,” Watson explained, “it is done under the constant supervision of physicians” (Watson & Watson, 1921, p.
496). Surely it would have been extremely difficult for Watson to have tested Douglas surreptitiously, especially because Watson filmed the
study. Not only is there is no evidence that other
professionals at JHU criticized Watson’s alleged deception concerning Albert, but no historian has unearthed correspondence or other
unpublished material in which such criticism
can be found.
In particular, the head of the Phipps Clinic,
Adolf Meyer, would likely have exposed any
such misconduct in Watson’s research, as he did
with Watson’s extramarital affair with Rayner,
which led to Watson’s forced resignation from
JHU (Buckley, 1994). Meyer would also have
taken a great deal of interest in Watson’s film
because of his progressive-era belief that childhood experiences contributed to adult psychiatric conditions (Double, 2008; Dreyer, 1976).
And given his reputation for paying close attention to day-to-day activities in the Phipps Clinic
(Scull & Schulkin, 2009), he would almost certainly have noticed if Watson had used the
neurologically impaired Douglas as an example
of a normal, well-developed child.
Fridlund et al. (2012) claimed that Douglas
was deliberately chosen for the study because
he was considered more expendable than a nor-
319
mal child. They further speculated that Douglas’s mother, Arvilla, may have been unable to
refuse the experimentation upon Douglas because it would have jeopardized her employment and Douglas’s free medical care. Although we agree that Arvilla’s wet-nursing job
at the hospital was likely her best employment
option, Douglas’s medical file shows that Arvilla removed him from the hospital at 12
months 15 days of age against advice: “Child
has a temperature today, examination shows
nothing abnormal in respiratory system. Mother
took child away against advice. . . . The child
was to have been discharged in a week’s time”
(MMF, March 24, 1920). This behavior seems
inconsistent with Fridlund et al.’s characterization of her as a passive victim. The timing of
Douglas’s discharge is also problematic because it occurred a week before the Little Albert
study ended (Watson & Rayner, 1920). This
means that Arvilla would have had to bring
Douglas back to the hospital for the final week
of the study, and yet not resume his medical
care at the hospital until about five months later
(MMF, August 27, 1920), as is indicated by the
absence of any entries in the medical file between March 25 and August 26. It seems implausible that Arvilla would have returned for
the study without also getting Douglas medical
care. The chronology of entries in Douglas’s
medical file shows that the hospital resumed
Douglas’s treatment when Arvilla brought him
back to the hospital several months later, which
suggests that Arvilla and Douglas were more
likely the recipients of the hospital’s charity
rather than victims of exploitation, as suggested
by Fridlund et al.
Why This Should Matter to Historians
of Psychology
Little Albert is sometimes considered one of
psychology’s classic studies, but Watson and
Rayner’s (1920) original account of him has not
been timeless. Psychologists have generated
many versions of Albert’s story, as discussed
earlier in this article and elsewhere (Harris,
5
In his autobiography, Watson notes that Dr. John Howland, Dr. J. Whitridge Williams, and the resident psychiatrist, Dr. Leslie B. Hohman, facilitated the infant research.
Watson also used Dr. Curt Richter as a sounding board for
ideas about future infant studies.
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DIGDON, POWELL, AND HARRIS
1979; Samelson, 1980; Todd, 1994). What then
are the implications of the latest revision in
which Albert is cast as a neurologically impaired child? Since its publication, it has been
widely disseminated both within and outside the
discipline, especially through the Internet. It is
also making its way into introductory textbooks
(see Kalat, 2014), and is perhaps destined to
become another of the many myths about Albert
(see Harris, 1979; Samelson, 1980). But why
has this particular version of Albert’s story been
embraced at this particular time, and what might
it be telling us about contemporary psychology?
Earlier in this article, we argued that Fridlund
et al.’s (2012) evidence for Albert being neurologically impaired is actually weak and does not
stand up to scrutiny: Watson’s film was an
inadequate measure of Albert’s neurological
status, and circumstances at JHU hospital were
not conducive to Watson carrying out the alleged deception with impunity. We wonder why
these weaknesses were overlooked, especially
because it goes against the grain of psychologists’ typical skepticism concerning novel
claims that lack solid empirical evidence.
Could it be because ethical concerns drew
attention away from evidentiary weaknesses?
We live in an age where concerns about ethics
are salient and pervasive. As ethicist Margaret
Somerville (2000) argued,
Recently the search for ethics seems to have been
everywhere. One only has to pick up the daily newspapers to see the perceived relevance of “ethics talk” to
much of what goes on in our lives as individuals and
communities. . . . This widespread search for ethics can
be seen as a turn-of-the-millennium revolution in conscience and consciousness, in the sense of awareness of
the need to ask the question “Is it right?” (p. 1)
Indeed, contemporary psychologists continue
to confront ethical quandaries in professional
practice and research. A sensationalized example is the role psychologists played in the tortuous interrogation of detainees at the American
prison in Guantanamo (see Joyce & Rankin,
2010). There have also been recent outcries
about psychologists making public pronouncements or expert testimonies that are not
grounded in relevant psychological science (see
Edens et al., 2012; Ferguson, 2013). Another
example is that the use of the Internet to conduct
studies, instead of in person, may present new
ethical challenges in ensuring that research participants have given informed consent and have
been adequately debriefed (see Pittenger, 2003).
There are even ethical concerns about the use of
new complex statistical techniques because of
the possibility that psychologists who lack a
thorough understanding may misapply them, or
perpetrate other irregularities in data analysis
that lead to erroneous conclusions (see Wasserman, 2013). We have highlighted only a few
examples in order to demonstrate the pervasiveness of ethical concerns in contemporary psychology, and the possibility that today’s “ethics
mindset” might be coloring our interpretations
of the Little Albert study.
Fridlund et al.’s (2012) interpretation of the
Albert study implies egregious ethical violations, assumes that Douglas’s congenital hydrocephalus made him vulnerable to harm,
and that Watson and Rayner’s misreporting
was “a violation of the norm of faithful and
complete reporting in science” (p. 320). In
fact, ethical issues were enough of a focus for
the term “ethics” to be one of the manuscript’s keywords, and they are the dominant
theme in the many websites that reported
Fridlund et al.’s article.
To a popular audience, Fridlund et al.’s
(2012) exposé of Watson’s ethical violations
and cover-up might serve to atone for Albert’s alleged mistreatment, albeit symbolically. This version of Albert’s story is consistent with contemporary zeitgeist in which
the public becomes outraged over past scientists’ bad behavior (see, e.g., Skloot, 2010).
One result of this emphasis on ethical lapses
is the pressure it places on the reader to accept
Fridlund et al.’s version of the Albert story—to avoid turning a blind eye to a baby’s
mistreatment. That is, ethical concerns seem
to have diverted attention away from an arguably more parsimonious conclusion—that
Douglas Merritte’s congenital hydrocephalus
means that he was not the healthy Albert B.
that Watson and Rayner (1920) described.
Further, the well-intentioned goal of exposing
ethical lapses may have inadvertently heightened the risk of confirmation bias. For instance, Fridlund et al.’s interpretation requires us to accept attributes of Albert that
Douglas matches (i.e., sex, age at start of
study, and mother’s occupation), but to overlook characteristics that Douglas does not
match (i.e., Albert’s healthy status, heavy
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LITTLE ALBERT’S ALLEGED NEUROLOGICAL IMPAIRMENT
bodyweight, and age when discharged from
hospital).
The Albert-as-impaired story also has implications beyond the history of psychology,
being relevant to the history of medicine and
the treatment of the disabled. For instance, in
the APA’s Monitor on Psychology, Fridlund
is quoted as saying that Albert’s story “forces
us to confront deeper, more disturbing issues
like medical misogyny, the protection of the
disabled and the likelihood of scientific
fraud” (DeAngelis, 2012, p. 12). These sorts
of comments may unfairly harm Watson’s
reputation as a scientist, as well as the reputations of his associates. They may also undermine public trust in psychology, science,
and medicine. The flurry of online activity—
including featured stories, Wikipedia entries,
blog postings, and comments—suggests that
this may have already happened. We refer
again to the APA Monitor on Psychology,
because of its wide circulation within psychology:
The evidence so clearly supports Watson’s cognizance of Albert’s condition, the conclusion that he
intentionally misrepresented it is nearly inescapable.
. . . Yet in testing a neurologically impaired child,
Watson may simply have embodied the mentality of
researchers of the time . . . it was standard practice
to use poor, sick infants and children as experimental subjects. (DeAngelis, 2012, p. 12)
Other websites have prominent presentist
tones, suggesting that contemporary researchers are ethically superior, having transcended
the unethical practices of their predecessors.
For example, the website “About.com Psychology” noted that “By today’s standards,
the Little Albert experiment was both cruel
and highly unethical. Such an experiment
could never take place today even with a
healthy child, let alone a child as vulnerable
as Merritte” (Cherry, n.d.).
But judgments about the ethics of past research, such as the Little Albert study, are
nuanced because, as Billig (2008) argues,
“our behavior is socially and historically
bounded” (p. 11). In Watson and Rayner’s
time, ideas about the proper treatment of children were different than ones favored today;
for instance, disobedient children often received physical punishment (see Grant, 1994;
Greven, 1990/1992; van Drunen & Jansz,
2004). Moreover, to Watson and Rayner’s
321
contemporaries, exposing infants to loud
noises would likely have seemed no more
dangerous than many events that occur in
everyday life (i.e., what we now call “minimal risk” research). In fact, Watson and Watson (1928) noted many instances of children
inadvertently acquiring “home-made” fears in
a similar, but unintended fashion, such as by
the slamming of a door, the dropping of a pot,
or the crackling of thunder.
Interestingly, the Albert study was acceptable
enough for Bregman (1934) and Valentine
(1930) to conduct similar re...
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