Mass Panic and Social Attachment

MASS PANIC AND SOCIAL ATTACHMENT For my late parents, Richard and Margaret Mawson, and brother Dick. Mass Panic and...

Author: Anthony R. Mawson

144 downloads 1065 Views 1MB Size Report

This content was uploaded by our users and we assume good faith they have the permission to share this book. If you own the copyright to this book and it is wrongfully on our website, we offer a simple DMCA procedure to remove your content from our site. Start by pressing the button below!
Report copyright / DMCA form

DOWNLOAD PDF

MASS PANIC AND SOCIAL ATTACHMENT

For my late parents, Richard and Margaret Mawson, and brother Dick.

Mass Panic and Social Attachment The Dynamics of Human Behavior

ANTHONY R. MAWSON University of Mississippi Medical Center, USA

© Anthony R. Mawson 2007 All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise without the prior permission of the publisher. Anthony R. Mawson has asserted his right under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act, 1988, to be identified as the author of this work. Published by Ashgate Publishing Limited Gower House Croft Road Aldershot Hampshire GU11 3HR England

Ashgate Publishing Company Suite 420 101 Cherry Street Burlington, VT 05401-4405 USA

Ashgate website: http://www.ashgate.com British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data Mawson, Anthony R. Mass panic and social attachment: the dynamics of human behavior 1. Panic 2. Collective behavior 3. Attachment behavior I. Title 302.1'7 Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Mawson, Anthony R. Mass panic and social attachment: the dynamics of human behavior / by Anthony R. Mawson. p. cm. Includes bibliographical references and index. ISBN-13: 978-0-7546-4880-2 1. Collective behavior. 2. Panic. 3. Disasters-Psychological aspects. 4. Attachment behavior. I. Title. HM871.M39 2007 155.9'35--dc22 2006031580 ISBN-13: 978 0 7546 4880 2

Printed and bound in Great Britain by TJ International Ltd, Padstow, Cornwall.

Contents List of Figures Preface Acknowledgments

ix xi xix

Chapter 1: Introduction Beginnings Attempts to Define the Boundaries of the Subject Matter Natural History of the Research Plan of the Book

1 1 5 8 12

Chapter 2: Current Theories of Panic Experimental Work Foreman Quarantelli K. Lang and G. Lang Smelser Schultz Brown

13 13 16 16 17 18 20 21

PART I: THEORIES OF AFFILIATIVE BEHAVIOR

25

Chapter 3: Theories of Affiliation Introduction Affiliation – A Social Psychological Perspective Disentangling the Issues Differential Responsivity to Anxiety Choice of Affiliation Partners

27 27 28 31 35 36

Chapter 4: The Theory of Walters and Parke

39

Chapter 5: Protection from Predators: Bowlby’s Theory

45

PART II: TOWARD A THEORY OF SOCIAL ATTACHMENT

53

Chapter 6: Arousal and Stimulation-Seeking: Overview Introduction Stimulation Incongruity

55 55 57 61

vi

Mass Panic and Social Attachment

Arousal Stimulation-Seeking

62 64

Chapter 7: Cognitive Maps and Susceptibility to Influence Cognitive Maps Susceptibility to Social Influence

73 73 79

Chapter 8: Affiliation as Stimulation-Seeking: A Theory of Attachment Formation Birth as a Traumatic Experience The Paradoxical Effects of Punishment A Theory of Attachment Formation The Maintenance and Destruction of Attachments Conclusion

83 83 87 90 94 98

Chapter 9: Stimulation-Seeking and Group Dynamics Nonspecific Stimulation-Seeking Breakdown of the Cognitive Map Conclusions to Part II

101 101 104 106

PART III: PANIC

111

Chapter 10: Panic as Stimulation-Seeking Introduction Panic as Intense Stimulation-Seeking Arousal-Reducing Function of Wild Running and Agitation, and “Keeping Busy” Panic as the Expression of Both “Rage” and “Fear”

113 113 114 117 119

Chapter 11: Aggression Eliciting Conditions of Aggression Is there a Specific Neural Substrate for Aggression? Aggression and Related Behaviors Identifying Aggression in Practice Aggression as Stimulation-Seeking Aggression and Panic

121 121 122 123 128 133 135

Chapter 12: The Social Context of Panic

139

Chapter 13: Panic Flight as Affiliative Behavior

149

Contents

vii

Chapter 14: Review of Current Theories of Panic Conventional Sociological Theory of Panic Cocoanut Grove Nightclub Fire The Theories of Freud and Schultz

155 155 163 164

Chapter 15: Havens of Safety Human Relationships (Attachments) as Homeostatic Systems Hierarchical Organization (“Salience”) of Cognitive Maps Contrasting Social Theories Conclusion

169 169 170 174 177

Chapter 16: Panic as Stimulation-Avoidance

179

PART IV: FURTHER CONSIDERATIONS

183

Chapter 17: Two Systems of Arousal Relation Between Immobility Reactions and Arousal Stimulation, Arousal, and Temporal Effects Beyond Arousal Theory Relation Between Arousal Level and Stimulation-Seeking

185 185 187 195 196

Chapter 18: Towards a Neurophysiological Theory of Emotional Behavior Introduction Structure and Function Brain Areas and Stimulation-Seeking Brain Areas and Stimulation-Avoidance Evidence of Reciprocal Inhibition Evidence of the Avoidance of Positive Feedback Passive Avoidance Deficit The Orienting, Defense and Immobility Response

199 199 200 201 203 204 210 215 217

Chapter 19: Summary and Conclusions Introduction The Sociological Concept of Panic Military Panics Further Problems in the Approach–Avoidance Dichotomy “Emotional” and “Motivational” Behavior: Can they be Separated? Hypothesis of Inhibition by Sensory Feedback The Social Context of Emotional–Motivational Behavior

219I 219 220 221 223 224 225 229

viii


Chapter 20: Understanding Mass Panic and Other Collective Responses to Disaster: Update Summary Terminology The Causes of Group Flight Assumptions in the “Entrapment” Theory of Flight The Rarity of Flight in Community Disasters and Combat The Social Attachment Model of Human Behavior in Disasters Typology of Responses to Disaster Behavior in Structural Fires Research Relevant to the Social Attachment Model Gender and Age Differences in Stress Responses Response to Nuclear Attack Implications for Evacuation Policy Conclusions

233 233 234 235 236 240 241 242 244 245 247 248 249 250

Appendix: Stimulation-Seeking and the Organization of Behavior

253

Bibliography Index

259 305

List of Figures Figure 1.1

Hypothesis of inhibition by sensory feedback

11

Figure 2.1

Payoff Matrix for Prisoner’s Dilemma

22

Figure 17.1

Relationship between degrees of incongruity, S.N.S./P.N.S. arousal, and stimulation-seeking

191

Diagrammatic representation of the OR (Orienting Response), DR (Defense Response) and IR (Immobility Response)

218

Typology of individual and collective reactions to threat and disaster (Outcomes A-D), based on a combination of precipitating conditions, that is, degree of physical danger, ranging from anxiety (“mild”) to fear and/or terror (“severe”), and predisposing conditions, that is, the whereabouts of attachment figures (physically present or absent)

243

Figure 18.1

Figure 20.1

This page intentionally left blank

Preface The infamous attacks on the World Trade Center and Pentagon on September 11, 2001, and the subsequent mailing of anthrax-containing letters, followed by wars initiated by the west against Afghanistan and Iraq, have all contributed to widespread concerns about the possible terrorist use of weapons of mass destruction and fears of mass panic. These political and historical developments have prompted me to dust off and partially update for publication a monograph I completed years ago – a study on mass panic and its relationship to social attachment. The work offers insights on the topics of mass panic, bonding, and human behavior in general, as well as in crisis situations, and has practical implications for the organization of mass evacuation and resettlement following major disasters. This work, along with other published studies, suggests that mass panic of the kind often depicted in the media is unlikely to occur in the event of a major natural or manmade disaster. However, as argued in the present work, a critical factor determining individual and collective responses to threat or disaster is the social context in which it occurs. My studies on panic began in the 1960s as an undergraduate student in sociology at McGill University in Montreal, Canada. I took a course on Collective Behavior and became intrigued by Neil Smelser’s Theory of Collective Behavior (1963) and his analysis of military panics. Each of the seven World War II incidents discussed by Smelser started when one or more men made a sudden, unexplained dash to the rear, and other men followed suit. In every case the person who made the initial run had a legitimate reason for doing so. Smelser suggested that group panic was due to the perception on the part of those who followed that danger was imminent and escape routes were rapidly closing. It occurred to me that a different interpretation could be given to such “panics”. I went to consult with my professor, Maurice Pinard, and suggested to him that the military situation was analogous to the case of two young brothers walking together in a graveyard at night. The older brother, for no apparent reason, broke into a run, and the younger boy ran after him. The question was: Why did the younger boy run (“panic”)? I suggested that the younger boy was not so much trying to escape an imagined danger but trying to stay close to his older brother, and his behavior was better interpreted as an “affiliative” response rather than as flight. I felt the same reasoning applied to the military panics described by Smelser. Professor Pinard smiled and nodded as if to say: Maybe, you could be right. As a typically B (or lower) grade student, I went away in a state of elation, thinking that I may have had an original and possibly useful idea that contradicted our textbook. Thereafter, I became a somewhat more conscientious student than I had been in my first two years at McGill.

xii


Expanding on these ideas in a subsequent term paper in Professor Wallace Lambert’s course on Social Psychology, I applied to the University of Chicago for graduate school and sent the paper to Professor Morris Janowitz, an expert on military sociology. He invited me to Chicago for interview, expressed interest in the ideas, and arranged for me to meet a colleague of his at the National Opinion Research Center, Professor Peter Rossi, who had funds available for scholarships. All went well until the subject of my grades came up. There was no way, he said, shaking his head in apparent regret, that he could justify giving me a scholarship with passing grades like mine. After graduating from McGill I returned to England and was accepted into two post-graduate sociology degree programs on the strength of my paper on panic. I chose the University of Essex, Colchester, where I took an MA in sociology, and the following year I was offered a Postgraduate Studentship to attend the London School of Economics and Political Science (LSE). After only a year at LSE I was tempted by the offer of a teaching post at Keele University, Staffordshire, where I spent the next three years as an Assistant Lecturer in Sociology. Since my undergraduate days at McGill I accumulated additional data and began to develop an interdisciplinary theory of mass panic. This was written up as a doctoral thesis while I worked at Keele from 1968–1971. Another two years passed, during which time I was appointed Honorary Visiting Research Associate in the Department of Psychology at Birkbeck College, University of London, and subsequently attended a Summer Research Training Institute in psychophysiology in Cambridge, Massachusetts, funded by NATO. I returned to England and defended the thesis in an oral exam at Keele in January 1973. In 1971 I had decided to seek additional knowledge and training in psychophysiology and, as mentioned, spent a year in the Department of Psychology at Birkbeck, where my mentor was Professor Peter Venables, an internationally known expert on psychophysiology. I spent the summer of 1972 in Boston studying psychophysiology at the Massachusetts Mental Health Center, where I met my first wife-to-be, who was then a graduate student in clinical psychology at Harvard. I also made valuable contacts and was delighted to be offered a post-doctoral fellowship at Harvard Medical School by Professor Peter Dews. This was to have begun in Spring 1973 – subject, of course, to the award of my doctoral degree at Keele. Returning to England for a few months in late 1972, I re-edited the thesis (it ended up as two volumes) and sent the requisite four copies to the Registrar at Keele. I learnt subsequently that it had been difficult for the University to find two people willing to serve as external examiners, as the topic was not in the mainstream. I myself had not been consulted about suitably qualified candidates. Of the two men who finally agreed to serve as external examiners, one was a senior professor of psychology who specialized in brain and behavior, the other a social psychologist. As a university faculty member, one could choose one’s thesis advisor and recommend the names of the two people required to serve as external examiners. This usually meant that the people selected would tend to have a favorable view of one’s project. They would read it and give helpful advice as the work progressed.

Preface

xiii

I chose as my supervisor Mr John Grundy, an Assistant Lecturer in Philosophy. He was a kindly, thoughtful individual and a sympathetic colleague, not much older than me, with impressive skills in conceptual analysis. In retrospect I should have chosen someone in my own field of sociology. John Grundy and I met a few times after I started writing, and offered valuable written comments. But the work proceeded apace and I left the Keele in 1971. The next time we met was at the oral examination. To my surprise, the thesis was rejected outright. No appeal was allowed, and I was not even provided with a written report from the examiners. The thesis began by questioning the standard sociological theory of group panic – that flight occurs in response to perceived physical danger and limited or closing escape routes. Even when both conditions are met, flight is actually very rare. As mentioned, it was curious that military panics are usually triggered not by unusual danger per se but by the sight of one or more men running to the rear for unexplained reasons. There was evidence of intense bonding or camaraderie among combat troops, and of “bunching” on the battlefield. These and other data led me to refine and further develop the hypothesis originally conceived at McGill: that many cases of military “panic” were better understood as affiliative responses to the threat of separation from companions rather than flight from perceived danger. The men were trying to follow and stay close to others in their unit. While developing this “affiliative” theory of mass panic I found considerable evidence that the dominant response to community disaster and other forms of crisis is to seek out the presence of familiars, to head toward familiar locations, and to offer assistance to others. I came across the work of the late Dr John Bowlby, a psychiatrist and leading developer and exponent of attachment theory, who had presented similar ideas about behavior under stress in a paper published in 1960 and in the first volume of his magisterial trilogy, Attachment and Loss (Hogarth, 1969). I read his book avidly and annotated it extensively. Evidence of intense gregariousness among human beings in everyday life and especially in crisis situations was ubiquitous. I conceived the idea that the critical element determining the response to danger is the immediate social context – that is, the whereabouts of familiar people and places. Both animal and human data showed that being in the presence of familiars has a calming effect, whereas the opposite is true if one is alone, with strangers, or in unfamiliar surroundings. I suggested that flight is rare in communities facing physical danger because people mostly experience such threats in their own familiar environment. Hence, the usual response is increased affiliative or attachment behavior (“bonding”). I suggested that when group flight from the scene does occur, it is usually affiliative at the same time, in that people head simultaneously toward people and locations that are familiar to them. Far from the Hobbesian notion then prevalent, that mass panic represented a state of social disorganization, anomie, and complete self-interest – flight-andaffiliation seemed to be more an attempt to reaffirm social relationships. Group “flight” in the absence of suddenly increased danger, as in the military, was therefore reinterpreted as a special case of the common tendency toward extreme gregariousness under stress. Conversely, the absence of flight when the

xiv


alleged necessary and sufficient conditions were present, as in most community disasters, was explained on the basis that the affected persons were in their own familiar environment. On other occasions, flight was simultaneously affiliative, in that people were at once escaping an overwhelming threat but at the same time trying to stay close to or move towards the familiar. Understanding the biopsychosocial bases of affiliative behavior and social attachment was a second major aspect and goal of my thesis. Based on a review of the literature, I proposed that proximity-seeking is part of a more general stimulationseeking response; that is, a tropism-like response involving increased sensory stimulation via contact and interaction with familiar persons, places and objects; that approach and withdrawal responses (that is, flight) were not mutually exclusive, since they could occur simultaneously; and, most controversially, that other forms of emotional-motivational behavior such as aggression, sex, and eating were not “hardwired”, fundamental categories of behavior, but overlapping “bands” on a continuous spectrum of intensity of stimulation-seeking behavior. Another common response to intense fear – immobility – was interpreted as stimulation-avoidance behavior, as it involved minimizing all movement and hence contact with external objects and the environment. Several chapters in my thesis were devoted to a review of current neuroanatomical and neurophysiological data that I interpreted as supporting the concepts of stimulation-seeking and stimulation-avoidance. The model that emerged from my research was as follows: 1. Individuals build cognitive maps (that is, internalized sensorial representations) of their interpersonal and physical environment). 2. Cognitive maps are internally stratified in terms of psychological salience; that is, some aspects of the environment are psychologically more meaningful and important than other parts. These highly valued items usually comprise a few “significant others” or attachment objects, as well as specific places (for example, home), as well as certain fundamental attitudes and beliefs. 3. Individuals attempt to maintain their cognitive maps; that is, human beings display a limited amount of curiosity and capacity for change, but for the most part they resist change and are highly conservative in thought, word and action. Cognitive maps thus tend to be maintained, just as physiological functions such as heart rate and blood pressure are maintained within narrow limits. 4. Individuals maintain their cognitive maps by seeking congruent feedback, that is, by seeking and remaining close to the environmental objects (people, places) whose characteristics have been internalized (“attachment figures”). This tendency is manifested particularly strongly in situations of alarm or danger. 5. Events perceived as incongruous with the cognitive map initiate a process designed to restore congruity; that is, events perceived at some level of awareness as unfamiliar or threatening (“incongruous”) evoke a congruityseeking response that takes the form of a graded increase in the intensity

Preface

xv

of stimulation-seeking behavior, aimed at familiar kinds and patterns of stimulation. The response is at once nonspecific in the sense of being aimed at a multitude of available and familiar stimulus objects, and at the same time capable of being highly localized or specific, depending on the source of the incongruity. If the latter is external danger, stimulation-seeking is directed away from the danger and towards key attachment figures, places and objects. If, on the other hand, the source of incongruity is an event in the individual’s immediate and intimate social environment, congruity-seeking behavior takes the form of movement toward the attachment object. 6. Congruity is maintained by two groups of neurotransmitter systems in the brain. These systems, labeled S and P (standing for sympathetic nervous system-like and parasympathetic-like, respectively), have a mutually inhibitory, balance-type relationship with each other, such that when one is active the other tends to be inhibited and vice versa. The S-system (based on brain noradrenaline and dopamine) is responsible for progressive increases in the intensity of all movements, the P-system (based on brain serotonin and acetylcholine) for progressive decreases in movement, eventuating in sleep. A state of congruity exists when events in the environment are perceived by the individual as consistent with his or her cognitive map. 7. “Inhibition by sensory feedback” is the proposed mechanism for restoring congruity. Mild to moderate degrees of incongruity lead to progressive increases in S-system arousal, which in turn leads to a proportional increase in the intensity of stimulation-seeking behavior aimed at familiar stimuli. It is postulated that the sensory input so obtained is fed back into the central nervous system where it is compared with the cognitive map. If the stimulation is evaluated as congruous, the P-system becomes activated and inhibits the Ssystem, leading to a physiological status quo ante and a state of behavioral quiescence. One of the major themes in my thesis was that the hypothalamus is not organized or “hard-wired” in terms of basic drives, as usually understand, for example, feeding, drinking, sex, and aggression centers, pathways, or circuits. The examiner who specialized in neuropsychology, who was evidently a proponent of the concept of brain centers, asked me about the size of the rat hypothalamus, where these “drives” are said to be represented in highly specific locations. I replied that I did not know its exact dimensions. Another major concept propounded in the thesis was stimulation-seeking. The examiner asked me for a definition, first of stimulation, and then of stimulationseeking. I realized that my answers were unsatisfactory, and that I had not explicitly defined the terms stimulation and stimulation-seeking. The social psychologist asked how my thesis went beyond or added to Smelser’s theory of panic – that people flee in response to perceived danger and limited escape routes. I explained that the theory neglected the social context, most notably the recognition that the response to danger is greatly determined by the whereabouts of

xvi


attachment figures. I suggested that social bonds or attachments contribute greatly to understanding responses to disaster, including the rarity of panic both in the military and in community settings. There were a few other questions, and I answered them as well as I could. After the exam I was given all of the copies of my thesis and carried them to the car with John Grundy’s assistance. A day or two later the Registrar phoned me at home to let me know, in advance of his letter, that my thesis had been rejected by the examiners and that no appeal would be permitted. I will never forget the look on my mother’s face as I relayed this news to her. The following week I returned to the United States and a snow-covered Boston. The Master of Winthrop House at Harvard (an expatriate Englishman) listened sympathetically as I related my experience at Keele. Much to our surprise, my wife and I were allowed to remain in the House as tutors until the summer, an act of extraordinary generosity. While my wife went to classes and interned as a clinical psychologist, I wrote papers and submitted them for publication and applied for university teaching posts. In the evenings, the two of us performed as musicians in bars and restaurants across Massachusetts. She sang and I played the piano. We were billed at one place as “The Mawson Duo”. A few months later I received an offer of a teaching position in New Orleans, and that fall I became Assistant Professor in City College, Loyola University. The following year I took a three-month medical school course on neuroscience at Louisiana State University Medical Center. In the meantime, George Allen & Unwin showed an interest in my thesis and wanted me to redraft it for publication. I was reluctant to modify the 600-page thesis as requested, and the opportunity to publish slipped by. With the thesis debacle still fresh in my mind, I did little with it for some time and instead wrote and published several papers based on spin-off ideas from the thesis. A request for conference papers finally prompted me to write a summary of the ideas on panic, and the Abstract was accepted for oral presentation at the 9th World Congress of Sociology in Uppsala, Sweden, in 1978 (Mawson, 1978a). On the strength of that paper I was invited by Professor Enrico (“Henry”) Quarantelli to serve as a panelist at a conference on Behavior in Fire that he was organizing for that fall. One of my fellow panelists, the late Jonathan Sime, a psychologist, asked for a copy of my World Congress paper outlining the social attachment model of panic. Some years later I was pleased to learn that Jonathan had carried out research for his own PhD thesis at the University of Surrey as a test of my theory. As predicted, he found that mass flight during a fire at a major resort simultaneously involved escape and approach to familiar sources of stimulation. Other studies were later carried out as explicit tests of the “social attachment” model of behavior in disaster and also found support for it. Over the years, various commitments kept me from attempting to rework or publish my thesis in its entirety. However, I published several papers on aggression, based on ideas first stated in the thesis. My book, Transient Criminality: A Model

Preface

xvii

of Stress-Induced Crime (1987), further elaborated on the theory of cognitive maps and stimulation-seeking behavior in relation to criminal behavior. In these and other works, I carefully defined and further developed the concept of stimulation-seeking behavior. Seeking additional knowledge of research methods and statistics, I obtained a Master’s degree in epidemiology in 1981 from Tulane University School of Public Health and Tropical Medicine and was subsequently offered a position as a research epidemiologist at Louisiana State University Medical Center, New Orleans, where I worked for several years on issues related to spinal cord injury. One of these studies formed the basis of my Tulane doctoral thesis in epidemiology, which I submitted and successfully defended in 1986. This was a retrospective, matched case-control study of sensation-seeking and criminality in persons with spinal cord injury. I used Zuckerman’s Sensation-Seeking Scale and elaborated on my own concept of stimulation-seeking in the Discussion. Following the anthrax letter incident in the aftermath of the terrorist bombings on September 11, 2001, and widespread anxiety about how people would behave in the event of a major bioterrorist attack, I wrote and published an updated review on mass panic and social attachment in 2005, and edited my Keele thesis for publication as a book. I am honored that Ashgate has agreed to publish it. In summary, the thesis began with a puzzling observation – so-called “flight” in the military that seemed better interpreted as “affiliation” – but soon expanded as I saw how intimately the topic of panic was connected with a vast array of other concepts in the social and life sciences. This obliged me to gather additional data, undertake critical analyses and develop fresh appraisals of a number of familiar concepts and theories. In the course of the work, a theoretical synthesis emerged that focused on mass panic and social attachment but encompassed the broader topics of emotion and motivation. The implications of the model, including practical applications in the field of emergency management, have yet to be fully explored and tested. Anthony R. Mawson Jackson, Mississippi August 2006


Acknowledgments Readers of the Preface will quickly learn the unusual history of this work and the obstacles to earlier publication. I am delighted that the book will finally see print, and I am grateful to my editors at Ashgate – Caroline Wintersgill and Mary Savigar – for publishing it. Looking back over the years and recalling the many people who helped me develop the ideas in this book, I would like to thank the following: Maurice Pinard and Wallace Lambert, former professors at McGill University, encouraged me in my first attempts to state the idea that certain recorded instances of “mass panic” in the military could be usefully reinterpreted as expressions of affiliative behavior among the troops themselves. John Grundy, my thesis advisor in the Department of Philosophy at Keele University, provided support, friendship, and valuable comments on early drafts. I also thank friends and former colleagues at Keele for their comments on early drafts, particularly Frank Coffield, Paul Cornes, Jim Good, and the late John Whittaker. I am especially grateful to the late Donald MacKay, Keele University, for his encouragement and mentorship, and for suggesting the hypothesis of lateral inhibition as an explanation of the arousal-reducing effects of stimulation-seeking behavior. This idea led me to study the neurophysiological aspects of emotion and motivation and drew me to the notion of interacting systems of “arousal”. However, Professor MacKay bears no responsibility for errors I may have made in extrapolating from the concept of lateral inhibition to the notion of stimulation-induced central inhibition of sympathetic nervous system arousal. I also thank former colleagues at Birkbeck College, University of London, for deepening my understanding of physiological psychology, especially Peter Venables, Margaret Christie, Greg De Marchi, and Daphne Joyce. I thank Patricia Caple for typing the original manuscript. I am also indebted to Carol Deinhardt for believing in the project and its author, and for editorial suggestions. The first airing of my ideas on panic and social attachment was at the 9th World Congress of Sociology in Uppsala, Sweden, in 1978. I am grateful to Professor Enrico Quarantelli, University of Delaware, for accepting my paper for presentation and for inviting me to be a panelist at a workshop on Behavior in Fires at the former National Bureau of Standards, Gaithersburg, Maryland. I could not have produced this work for publication over the past three years without the support, encouragement, and superb editorial skills of my wife, Carol Andersen. I am grateful to Charlotte Green, a student at the University of Aberdeen, for sharing her term paper with me on the social psychology of group behavior (December 2005). Finally, I thank Mona Brown and Sonja Wiggins for their clerical assistance.


Chapter 1

Introduction Beginnings I first became interested in panic in November 1964 at McGill University when I took Professor Maurice Pinard’s course on Collective Behavior. I had been studying Harvard sociology professor Talcott Parsons’ social theories by reading a collection of critical essays on his work, edited by Max Black (1961). Parsons’ basic assumption was of great interest to me. This was the notion that human relationships are homeostatic (that is, self-maintaining) systems. It struck me that the mechanisms involved in “system maintenance” could best be illuminated in circumstances where they were most threatened – for example, in situations of threat or crisis. In his classic text, Theory of Collective Behavior, which was required reading for Professor Pinard’s course, the sociologist Neil Smelser (1963) reviewed several cases of group panic among combat troops in World War II. Mass flight occurred when one or more men made a sudden dash for the rear, which others in the vicinity witnessed but did not understand. Smelser suggested that the sight of fleeing men led others to flee, believing that imminent danger was present and that escape routes were about to close. I felt intuitively that this explanation was incorrect. I asked myself: What would happen if one or more men in a combat unit behaved contrary to expectations, by running to the rear, after the men had come to trust and depend on each other for survival? What would happen to this intricate and precarious system of relationships when the network of “reciprocal role expectations” was threatened in this way? Would men revert to some pre-social “human nature”, a state that philosopher Thomas Hobbes thought would be anarchical and chaotic, in which people would become exclusively concerned with their own survival? Or would they try to regain or reaffirm their relationships by running after the fleeing men, and by sticking together – a kind of “automaton conformity” – as a reading of Erich Fromm’s (1941) work might have suggested? I felt that a study of mass panic would provide the necessary data to compare the two general models of human behavior: one, the socalled “prosocial” conception of man, stemming from Hegel and Marx, and more recently, G.H. Mead and the “symbolic interactionist” School; the other deriving from Thomas Hobbes’ notion of an autonomous, self-sufficient human nature that became self-interested and self-aggrandizing when freed from social constraint. Those were some of the questions I began to ask. This questioning was greatly stimulated by Ronald Laing’s (1965) The Divided Self, which argued that psychoanalytic concepts had misdescribed the subjective world of the schizophrenic

2


and served to alienate him even further from the possibility of human communication. Freudian concepts had psychologically “distanced” the schizophrenic from those trained to help him. For Laing, the goal of psychotherapy was to try to see the world from the schizophrenic’s own point of view: to emphasize with him. Laing’s emphasis on subjectivity – the notion that one could understand behavior by discovering the meanings which individuals themselves attach to their own actions – together with Parsons’ notion that human relationships are homeostatic in nature, were the basic ingredients of my first critical look at sociological theories of panic. Smelser’s (1963) book on collective behavior attempted to explain various forms of collective behavior in terms of a single theoretical framework, and it remains an important work of reference. In his treatment of panic, however, I felt that his model failed to consider the impact of human relationships and, in particular, how such relationships would both affect and be affected by social crisis. It seemed to me that if one put oneself in the place of the infantryman himself, as Laing’s work suggested one ought to do, then a man’s greatest fear on the battlefield would be that of letting his fellows down. It is known that the strongest factor holding a body of men together on the battlefield is not military discipline or fear of punishment, but a feeling of mutual trust and camaraderie between the men and their officers. Panic is rare among troops, especially those who have worked and lived closely with each other. Moreover, military panics have been precipitated not so much by definite external threats but by the sight of a few men running in unexplained flight to the rear (Marshall, 1947). These facts suggested that there might be circumstances in which panic “flight” was not flight at all, but a form of intense affiliative behavior, the expression of a desire to stay as close as possible to one’s fellows. When one considers other circumstances in which panic can arise, many examples of “separation panic” come to mind. Sheep separated from the flock make frantic efforts to be reunited with it, and children “panic” at the threat of separation from mother. It therefore seemed reasonable to suppose that wild running – such as occurs in panic – could sometimes take the form of intense affiliative behavior; and the notion of flight in these cases could be a misdescription of the observed behavior. Conventional sociological views of panic seemed to me to place too much emphasis on physical preconditions, such as closing or limited escape routes. Panic in theatre fires and other confined spaces was taken as virtually paradigmatic. In a theatre fire, for example, it was assumed that panic consisted of wild and selfinterested flight for the few available exits. What the individual did immediately afterwards was apparently of no interest to the researcher. But what about the sequelae of panic, and the fact – so obvious, perhaps, that it tends to be ignored or thought irrelevant – that survivors immediately go home or contact friends and relatives? People do not simply go about their business as if nothing has happened, but show signs of increased dependency or affiliative behavior for weeks, months, and even years after the event, depending on the degree of trauma experienced. These points suggested that even in cases where people were clearly fleeing from a given threat or hazard, there were significant increases in affiliative behavior immediately and for considerable time after the event.

Introduction

3

It seemed that no easy distinction could be drawn between panics of “escape” and panics of “affiliation” (or separation). In many cases, both flight and affiliation were involved. Fundamental questions were therefore raised about whether “escape” and “affiliation” were really different kinds of behavior at all. Similar behavior was observed not only in man but in many animal species, and under a wide range of circumstances. This suggested two things: first, that the familiar Hobbesian view of human nature and society was inadequate or incorrect; secondly, that Laing’s methodological point about the importance of empathy was only the starting point for analysis, but not in itself a substitute for powerful theorization. One cannot put oneself in the place of animals without the danger of anthropomorphism, yet many animal species show remarkable similarities with humans in different aspects of behavior, including “panic”. Consider the first point. The Hobbesian view of social relations assumes that man is basically autonomous and self-interested, and society is held together by general acceptance of the notion of sovereignty. When a severe crisis arises, the social fabric “breaks down” and individual instincts for self-preservation are unleashed. However, reflection on the ubiquity of affiliative behavior following a wide range of threats suggested that Hobbesian assumptions were based on a superficial appreciation of the psychological importance of relationships in understanding social behavior. These assumptions ignore the significant role that relationships play in the emotional or mental life of individuals. Human relationships are not merely “epiphenomena”, a kind of individual luxury, but the very stuff of existence. Destruction of a relationship by bereavement or separation increases the probability of early death, disease or mental ill-health in the surviving partner many times (Schmale, 1958; Parkes, 1970). It is reasonable, therefore, to postulate the existence of mechanisms designed to maintain these relationships (see Part II et seq.). It became evident from reviewing the literature that the range of situations capable of eliciting affiliative behavior in animals and man was very broad. Although much can be gained from imaginatively putting oneself in the place of others, little more can be learned beyond what the great novelists have already told us. Dostoevsky, Conrad and Crane, for example, have all written about fear and panic with great insight and sensitivity. But the most that can be achieved by “sympathetic understanding” is learning how the other man is feeling in his own particular predicament, that is, what it “means” to him in terms of his particular intentions, reasons, motives, and feelings. What is needed is a set of concepts capable of handling the diversity without at the same time being vacuous so far as the explanation of particular phenomena are concerned. Some “common denominator” is required that necessarily describes behavior differently from that which participants themselves are able to supply. The following set of postulates is proposed to account for affiliative behavior: 1. Individuals build cognitive maps, not just of discrete stimuli (cf. Sokolov, 1963) but of their interpersonal, physical and conceptual environment. 2. The contents of cognitive maps are stratified in terms of salience, that is, certain aspects of an individual’s environment (such as family and close

4


friends) are psychologically more important than other aspects. (The overall cognitive map also includes the self-concept or sense of personal identity.) 3. Cognitive maps acquire self-maintaining properties; that is, individuals attempt to preserve their identities and the maps they have formed of significant parts of their environment. 4. The maintenance of cognitive maps is accomplished through feedback from the external objects (for example, people) of which they are maps. 5. When feedback is unobtainable, the cognitive map begins to “break down”, that is, individuals lose their sense of identity and relatedness to others. A homeostatic or self-equilibrating system is postulated, where the thing being kept in equilibrium is a “cognitive map” rather than a particular physiological state. What sorts of events lead to the activation of self-correcting (negative-feedback) mechanisms? A very wide range of events, from changes in the parameters of simple stimuli to complex social and political events, “disturb” individuals physiologically and psychologically. Borrowing from Sokolov (1963), the concept of incongruity (that is, “mismatch”) is used to encapsulate this range of possible events. The essence of the model is that incongruity between “input” (an event or occurrence) and an individual’s cognitive map (that is, set of expectancies about his or her environment) activates negative-feedback mechanisms designed to create “congruity” (that is, to match the cognitive map with the corresponding external objects). For example, if mother behaves in a way which her child perceives as strange (that is, incongruously), the child is aroused to seek “congruity”, which consists of approaching the mother with varying degrees of insistence and intensity, depending on the degree of incongruity. The various sensory qualities of the mother provide feedback for, or re-affirm, the child’s mental model of his mother and the social context in which his relationship is located. When mismatch or incongruity occurs, negative feedback mechanisms are activated, the function of which is to achieve congruity with the cognitive map. When congruity is achieved (that is, mother’s behavior is no longer perceived as strange), the system is re-equilibrated. The notion that a mental model of social objects (for example, other persons) is maintained by renewed contact with these objects amounts to saying that relationships between individuals are maintained. Thus, affiliative behavior can be seen as a negative-feedback mechanism designed to increase the flow of sensory stimulation from a given source, a source that has been previously “mapped” into an individual’s brain in the form of a cognitive map. Affiliative behavior provides feedback to a “threatened” cognitive map (see Part II for detailed discussion). It seemed reasonable to conclude that “escape” and “affiliative” behavior are not necessarily distinct kinds of behavior – separate “drives” or “motivational systems” in their own right. In escaping from one source of stimulation an individual often simultaneously approaches other sources of stimuli (for example, his mother). As mentioned previously, this raised the question of whether panic was an identifiably distinct phenomenon.

Introduction

5

Attempts to Define the Boundaries of the Subject Matter In all academic work there must clearly be some division of labor among scholars, for no one can expect to be an expert in all of the fields his work touches on, and no single discipline can encompass every aspect of a phenomenon. On the other hand, it is not always clear where the boundaries lie. Sociological textbooks, however, tend to assure the student that his chosen discipline is fully autonomous and that sociological analysis does not require other disciplines. This is because, it is claimed, there is a distinct “sociological level” of inquiry and a distinct “psychological level”. In my view this distinction is entirely arbitrary. Sociologists seem particularly sensitive about what they take to be their “turf” – the boundaries of their discipline – whereas the important reliance of English on history, say, is never seriously doubted, and physiologists on the whole work happily alongside physicists, biochemists and psychologists. As Peter Medawar stated in The Art of the Soluble, it is no longer appropriate to talk of “disciplines in their own right”. Scientists working on particular problems often need to be acquainted with certain lines of inquiry in a number of disciplines. The distinction between “psyche” and “soma”, reflected in the notion of “psychosomatic illness”, is long outdated (for example, Wolff, 1960). Psychological events can give rise to physical disorders, and vice versa. Even the distinction between “sensory” and “cognitive” breaks down when one considers that “cognitive” input must be mediated physiologically and “sensory” input is evaluated at some level of awareness by the organism. The meaning of sensory input is a crucial factor determining the organism’s response to it. At times it seems reasonable to distinguish between a “sociological” question, such as: “What determines the relationship between type of residential area and the suicide rate?” And a “psychological question”, such as: “What is the relationship between extraversion–introversion and performance on a vigilance task?” But this does not necessarily mean that answers to such questions will be found within a framework of concepts already established within the discipline in question. As Inkeles (1959) has argued, in attempting to explain the relationship between economic variables and the rate of suicide, Durkheim (1951) was obliged to postulate an intervening theory of human nature or personality. Inkeles writes: Our criterion should not be disciplinary purity but, rather, the adequacy of our analysis… Adequate sociological analysis of many problems is eitherimpossible or severely limited unless we makeexplicit use of psychological theory and data in conjunction with sociological theory and data. (p.250)

The definitional boundaries of a discipline or a particular subject matter are arbitrary and of little importance. Who can tell what will happen to these boundaries as knowledge unfolds? The important issue is the solution of substantive problems, by whatever concepts and hypotheses are available. Clues and trains of thought have to be pursued tenaciously, even if one is led into areas at once vast and unfamiliar.

6


In attempting to adopt this approach, I found myself led into areas in which I had little training or understanding. But the subject matter related to panic was so vast and so intimately related to supposedly unconnected topics that I was obliged to follow those links as far as I could. A brief glance at the literature on panic – literature that specifically mentions the term panic – shows that comparatively little research has been done on the subject by sociologists or even, directly at least, by psychologists. Most of this work consists of papers or essays by psychiatrists, military officers, or historians, and a handful of books of a literary or autobiographical nature. But it would be unwise to conclude that, because the literature is relatively sparse, the subject is unproblematic or insignificant. Consider a few concepts that are regarded as virtually synonymous with panic: anxiety, fear, conflict, stress and emotion. At once an immense literature comes into view, ranging through several disciplines, including sociology, anthropology, psychology, psychiatry, physiology and neurology. Because of the breadth and depth of the subject matter, it is understandable to want to define and restrict the boundaries of one’s chosen topic. However, many stipulative or nominal definitions of this sort obscure rather than illuminate the subject. Consider the working definition of panic as “collective flight based on a hysterical belief”. This is Smelser’s (1963: 131) definition, but many other authors similarly define the term (for example, Quarantelli, 1954, 1957). However, the term is used more broadly in everyday speech, and it seems arbitrary to restrict inquiry to flight and hysterical beliefs. People are said to “lash out blindly in panic” as often as they are said to “flee in panic”. Panic can be expressed in rage as well as fear, in aggression as well as flight. Once again, the topic of aggression opens up a vast literature. With the notable exception of Gustave LeBon’s provocative essay on The Crowd, investigators tend to underemphasize the extent to which collective episodes such as panics, riots, football crowds, mass movements, and so on, are highly emotional. To be sure, concepts such as anger and fear are frequently mentioned, but little attempt has been made in the literature on collective behavior to examine the nature of emotion in depth. To do so, it is necessary to tour the literature on emotion in physiology and psychology, a literature which itself is highly scattered and lacking established theories. For example, the overall guiding principle of Cofer and Appley’s (1964) wellknown textbook Motivation: Theory and Research, is homeostasis. These authors devote a separate chapter to “Frustration, Conflict and Stress”, but various topics seemingly relevant to this chapter appear in widely dispersed sections of the book: fatigue and inhibition in Chapter 4; hunger, thirst and pain in Chapter 5; isolation and stimulus deprivation in Chapter 6; activation theories of emotion in Chapter 8; human anxiety, fear, aggression and arousal in Chapter 14; and uncertainty, dissonance and arousal in Chapter 15. The chapter headings of this first-rate and often exciting textbook accurately reflect the many unknowns in this field. Emotional behavior, of which panic forms a neglected part, is not restricted to behavior conventionally associated with anger or fear (that is, “aggression” and “flight”). In observing animals or human beings it is difficult to separate “emotional”

Introduction

7

from so-called “motivational” behavior (Bindra, 1970). For example, a frightened laboratory rat may engage in a number of “irrelevant activities” – activities that seem unrelated to the context. Depending on the availability of appropriate objects, it may eat, drink, gnaw pieces of wood, run furiously about or jump vigorously towards the roof of the cage, attack and/or attempt to copulate with other rats. Alternatively, its behavior may consist of crouching, accompanied by urination and defaecation. An equally wide range of behaviors are shown by human beings in stressful situations. For example, among troops in the combat zone, sexual desires are said to increase, and condemned men reportedly have erections at the gallows. Anxiety is often accompanied by excessive smoking, eating and drinking, and by a general state of hyperactivity. Alternatively, cataleptic or comatose states occur, often accompanied by anorexia (loss of appetite) and adipsia (loss of thirst). Emotional behavior, in summary, includes practically all behavior! Physiological activity associated with fear, rage or pain is also accompanied by many non-specific behaviors. As Robert Hinde (1966: 148ff.) pointed out in his classic text Animal Behavior, most researchers assume that each “form” of behavior is governed by a number of independent variables that are more or less specific to that activity. Hence, to find a correlation between, say, increased arousal and eating (and drinking and sexual activity) is to assume that analysis must proceed by refining the independent variables(s) – that is, arousal, in some way or other. It is rarely conjectured that eating, drinking and sexual activity may be genuinely non-specific activities elicited by increased levels of arousal, nor, more profoundly, that the customary distinction between such “primary” drive activities is simply a convenient fiction; in other words, that the description of a particular behavior as “eating” is an arbitrary selection of the observed behaviors. If one observes a person engaged in eating, the activities of chewing and munching are typically accompanied by frequent head and eye movements. In addition, the quality of the conversation is often considered as important as the food itself in the enjoyment of a meal. People usually prefer to eat in company, but if they have to eat alone, they listen to music, watch television, or read. People also tend to drink during meals. These observations are obvious and familiar and therefore tend to be ignored. Are they simply irrelevant to the study of eating behavior, or are they in some way a fundamental and irreducible part of the activity? The point here is two-fold. First, reactions to perceived incongruity (“stress”), are not restricted to so-called flight, aggression or even affililative responses. Many other “forms” of behavior are shown by animals and humans. Second, classifying behavior into “motivational systems” is arbitrary. This has already been suggested for “flight” and “affiliation”. Often, the two forms of behavior – both of which involve intense motor activity – merge imperceptibly into each other. But this also applies to eating, sex and aggression, to name several allegedly distinct activities. Therefore, far from being a narrow and isolated topic, as an initial reading of the literature might suggest, panic behavior is part of the more general topic of “emotion” and “stress”, and the field of emotion cannot readily be separated from other topics in

8


physiological psychology such as “motivational behavior” (Bindra, 1970), including eating, drinking and sex. The theory presented here “locates” panic within these wider areas and seeks to illuminate several phenomena not ordinarily thought to be associated with panic behavior. For instance, it suggests that panic, like eating behavior, is an arbitrary selection from a range of observable behaviors that can be more usefully conceptualized in other, but less familiar terms: namely, stimulation-seeking and stimulation-avoidance. As the work progressed, I concluded that all behaviors involving increased activity and/or contact with the environment – whether flight, attack, affiliation, sex, eating, drinking, and so forth – could be interpreted as stimulation-seeking behaviors of varying degrees of intensity or vigor. I theorized that incongruity led to increased arousal, which in turn led to progressive intensities of stimulation-seeking, depending on the degree of incongruity. The stimulation so derived was postulated to reduce the level of arousal. The basic idea was that the intense stimulation generated from, say, running and attacking, served to reduce the level of arousal associated with aggression. However, when the level of incongruity rose above a certain point, it was hypothesized that stimulation-seeking would give way to stimulation-avoidance, this response being characterized by a general diminution of behavior (for example, immobility or “freezing”). Natural History of the Research As the work developed, certain key factual points obliged me to modify my hypothesis. I originally assumed that emotional behavior was a function of different levels of a single system of physiological “arousal”, and evidence of negative correlations between physiological variables (for example, Lacey, 1967) was not necessarily incompatible with such a notion (cf. Berlyne, 1967). I thought that stimulation-seeking was a function of moderate and high levels of arousal, whereas stimulation-avoidance (that is, crouching, immobility) occurred at extremely high levels of arousal. However, “freezing” is associated with very low heart rate and blood pressure, sometimes even cardiac arrest! In other words, the relation between stimulation-avoidance and arousal level was the opposite of that predicted. Contrary to activation theory, it is useful to postulate two systems of arousal. The autonomic nervous system has two divisions – sympathetic (SNS) and parasympathetic (PNS) – and their actions are mutually inhibitory (Gellhorn and Loufbourrow, 1963). The concept of “activation” was based on varying intensities of sympathetic arousal. The possibility had not been considered that extreme states of arousal, such as immobility, might reflect intense parasympathetic arousal. The suggestion was that parasympathetic activation forms a continuum of intensity, with urination, defaecation, lowered blood pressure, heart rate deceleration (bradycardia) and increased gastric mobility at high intensities. This hypothesis helped to account for many puzzling findings in the stress literature (see Chapter 17).

Introduction

9

In general terms, stimulation-seeking following increased levels of (sympathetic) arousal leads to an increase in sensory stimulation which lowers the level of arousal. More specifically, given the notion of mutually inhibitory parasympathetic and sympathetic neural pathways, the hypothesis of “inhibition by sensory feedback” is that sympathetic pathways in the brain are activated by “incongruous” input; stimulation-seeking occurs; sensory stimulation is increased; and this new input activates PNS brain pathways which both inhibit SNS pathways and produce the signs of PNS arousal. The suggestion is that the inhibition of sympathetic activation is normally accomplished by sensory feedback initiated by the activity of the organism itself. To give a simple example, “hunger” (increased SNS activation) leads to stimulation-seeking (eating) which leads to increased sensory input which in turn elicits PNS arousal (for example, post-prandial muscle relaxation, lowered heart rate, and blood pressure). “Panic flight” can be understood in a similar way. Thus, the increased sensory stimulation produced by violent or agitated activity, “driven” by very high SNS activation, serves to reduce the level of SNS arousal by activating PNS pathways, and these in turn inhibit SNS arousal. In Chapter 18, evidence is presented that particular subcortical areas are responsible for SNS and PNS activation respectively, such as the posterolateral hypothalamus (SNS) and septal-hippocampal regions (PNS). How does the hypothesis of inhibition by sensory feedback relate to the earlier discussion of affiliation and the development of cognitive maps, that is, the socialization process? The hypothesis of inhibition by sensory feedback lies at the heart of the socialization process, and constitutes a neurophysiological principle affecting the development of all subsequent environmental interactions. It is an accepted part of folk medicine that if a painful stimulus is applied to the skin, the pain can be relieved temporarily by applying another, possibly “painful” stimulus to an adjacent area. I am grateful to my former colleague and mentor, the late Professor Donald MacKay, for suggesting that the notion of stimulation-seeking following increased levels of arousal caused by a painful stimulus is analogous to the folkmedical cure of pain, and that both can be explained in terms of the phenomenon of lateral inhibition (Hartline et al., 1956). The concept of lateral inhibition, which involves both peripheral and central components, is that the nervous discharge in peripheral cells is inhibited by the nervous discharge arising from the immediately subsequent stimulation of adjacent cells. Assuming that the nervous discharge associated with the initial stimulus causes the “pain”, the subsequent nervous discharge arising from the second stimulus inhibits the initial discharge and thereby, paradoxically, “stops the pain”. Professor MacKay’s suggestion led to the further thought that although the mechanism of inhibition was internal (“under the skin”) the event leading to inhibition was an external stimulus. Externally applied stimulation elicited the subcortical and peripheral inhibitory mechanisms. From there it was a short step to the hypothesis that inhibition was accomplished by external sensory stimulation derived from the activity of the organism itself. This explained puzzling phenomena such as the fact

10


that individuals in pain or great distress are known to jump up and down, kick their shins against hard surfaces, stamp their feet, and engage in many forms of selfmutilation and other so-called “punishing” activity. It also, by extension, provided an explanation for violent suicidal behavior. The explanatory principle is this: the greater the degree of incongruity, the greater the intensity of stimulation, and hence stimulation-seeking, needed to accomplish the inhibitory effect on the initial painful stimulus. The principle of lateral inhibition is, as it were, built-in to the functioning of living systems in such a way that organisms are aroused to seek the necessary sensory stimulation to achieve the inhibitory effect. However, the concept of stimulation-seeking would not necessarily be recognizable at the level of the reasons and motives which individuals may consciously entertain in any given situation. The term stimulation-seeking also has a far broader connotation than its more familiar meaning in psychology, that is, as curiosity, exploratory behavior, or thrill-seeking. As defined here, stimulation-seeking is any activity that enhances or facilitates contact between an organism’s sensory receptors and external objects or surfaces. Is a common observation that children and the young of many animal species run to their mothers when distressed; and the mere presence of mother, sibling, or some other object to which an attachment has been formed serves to reduce arousal level or distress. There is something about these objects – and especially physical contact with these objects – that serves to inhibit sympathetic activation in the same way that a simple “physical” stimulus applied to the skin can inhibit the pain arising from prior stimulation of an adjacent area of the skin. Disregarding for a moment the question of how attachments are formed (see Chapter 8), let us assume that a given individual has formed a cognitive map of certain objects in its environment, such as its mother and place of birth (a nest, a particular tree, or underground location). Once a cognitive map is established, individuals try to maintain them. When incongruity occurs, mechanisms are activated that serve to draw the individual toward sources of stimulation that are congruent with its cognitive map (that is, toward familiar stimuli). Thus, cognitive maps (and thereby social bonds/attachments/relationships) are maintained by the same negative feedback processes involved in the inhibition of painful stimulation in general. The mother – by her calls, the visual and olfactory stimulation associated with her presence, as well as physical contact – provides “congruous” sensory stimulation which inhibits the sympathetic activation produced by prior incongruous stimuli. Thus, a child who has fallen down and hurt himself usually stops crying when picked up by his mother. The stimulation derived from her mere presence is often sufficient to calm the child. The hypothesis of inhibition by sensory feedback integrates behavioral and psychophysiological concepts pertaining to “stress” and to the development and maintenance of social attachments (see Figure 1.1). A more formal and detailed summary of the work as a whole is presented in Chapter 19. Although “arousal” is not a unitary system but can be differentiated into S-system (SNS) and P-system (PNS) activation, sympathetic activation should not be equated with “excitation” or parasympathetic activation with “inhibition”. When incongruity

Introduction

Figure 1.1

11

Hypothesis of inhibition by sensory feedback

(for example, electric shock) reaches a certain level, PNS activation occurs, accompanied by lowered heart rate and blood pressure but increased gastrointestinal activity. Thus, when incongruity is experienced, the stimulation-seeking response consists not only of increased motor activity (that is, agitation, compulsive eating, smoking, self-stimulation, and so on), but is directed at sources of stimuli represented in the individual’s cognitive map. The increased stimulation serves to inhibit, in a

12


quantitative sense, the nervous discharge associated with the incongruous input; but the response is also directed towards sources of congruous sensory feedback; that is, individuals seek particular patterns of input which match those in the cognitive map. Wild running, for instance, is directed at particular persons or places represented in the cognitive map. These may be particular individuals or a particular place – a familiar haven of safety (see Part III). Plan of the Book Chapter 2 opens with a description of current theories of panic, with further details provided in Chapter 14. Having strongly emphasized the importance of affiliative processes in emotional behavior and “panic” in particular, Part I opens with a discussion of theories of affiliation. Affiliative behavior following various “stressors” is associated with many nonspecific activities. These facts demand a reconceptualization of the notion of “primary drives” and suggest that affiliative and related forms of motivational activity are different manifestations of stimulationseeking. Chapter 8 presents a theory of attachment formation. Chapter 9 discusses significant parallels between the psychological characteristics of individuals under “stress” and the characteristics of groups of individuals in a similar state. Chapter 10 argues that panic responses that take the form of wild running or agitation are usefully interpreted as intense stimulation-seeking. Likewise, aggressive behaviors (Chapter 11) are reinterpreted as forms of intense stimulation-seeking. At the beginning of Part IV, facts are presented that support the notion of a dual system of “arousal”. The hypothesis of inhibition by sensory feedback is presented in Chapters 17 and 18. Physiological “homeostasis” is maintained by a number of known negative-feedback mechanisms, such as baroreceptor activity and the action of glucocorticoids on the hypothalamus. Additional neural inhibitory mechanisms are discussed that bring about PNS automatically when external sources of feedback are unavailable. Some important temporal aspects of the response to incongruity are discussed in the light of automatic inhibitory processes. In Chapter 18 a new model of subcortical pathways is presented in the light of the conclusions reached earlier about panic behavior, notably the point that vigorous escape or avoidance behavior can simultaneously constitute approach or affiliative behavior. Previous models of brain and behavior have assumed that approach and avoidance escape responses are entirely separate systems and have postulated different neural pathways for approach and avoidance – an assumption that has given rise to unnecessary conceptual complications. A new hypothesis is also proposed to account for the phenomenon of passive avoidance deficit.

Chapter 2

Current Theories of Panic We begin with a general review of theories of panic, followed in Chapter 14 by an in-depth discussion. A useful review of work on panic up to 1944 is that of Anselm Strauss (1944). The present review is ordered chronologically, except for a discussion of experimental work, with which the chapter begins. The theories reviewed are those of Foreman, Quarantelli, the Langs, Smelser, Schultz, and Brown. Our concern is not with how the concept of panic relates to other forms of collective behavior (for example, riots, mass movements, lynch mobs) but to other forms of “emotional behavior”. Chapter 9 discusses the relationship between individual and group behavior under stress. Experimental Work Three experiments on panic have been conducted: those of French (1941), Mintz (1951) and Kelley and his associates (1965). French (1941) studied the differences between “organized” and “unorganized” behavior in a fear-producing situation. Eight organized groups (containing six members) composed of athletic teams were compared with eight unorganized groups composed of students who were unacquainted with one other. Each group spent 45 minutes working on insoluble problems designed to produce a sense of frustration. Groups were then left alone and asked to complete a questionnaire. Both doors to the room had been locked without the subjects’ knowledge. Smoke was then made to pour under the door, and a fire siren was sounded in the distance. Observational data were collected from behind one-way screens. Subjects were interviewed after the experiment and conversations during the experiment were recorded. The responses of the groups varied from “genuine panic to fairly complete skepticism”. All members within a group tended to react in the same way (withingroup variation was less than between-group variation). A distinct atmosphere or consensus quickly emerged within groups that largely determined the reactions of all members. Organized group members were apparently more frightened by the procedure than unorganized group members. French suggested four explanations. Organized group members “exhibited more social freedom and interdependence of behavior, which led to more social facilitation and circular social reactions; they were more frustrated by the problems; fewer members were currently taking courses

14


in psychology and hence they lacked one possible frame of reference by which to judge the situation; and two of the organized groups were more suggestible and less critical due to less education and more submissiveness to the prestige of the experimenter” (p. 196). Mintz (1951) “It is common knowledge”, Mintz begins, “that groups of people frequently behave in a way which leads to disastrous consequences not desired or anticipated by the members of the group. At theater fires, people often block the exits by pushing, so that individuals are burned or trampled. Since it normally takes only a few minutes for a theater to be emptied the strikingly non-adaptive character of this behavior is obvious” (p. 150). This is Mintz’s starting point for his argument that violent emotional excitement is not the decisive factor in panics, but rather the perceived “unstable reward structure” of the situation. If the exits in a theater fire are thought to be limited, then a given individual is not absolutely certain that he will escape alive (“unstable reward structure”). If everyone cooperated, then all could leave safely and in an orderly manner. But if the exits are blocked the situation is immediately defined as a competitive one, and this results in non-adaptive group behavior such as occurs in panic. Mintz contends that in the competitive behavior that occurs in panic, cohesion disappears and people act purely as individuals in accordance with their own needs. Mintz proceeded to test his theory that non-adaptive group behavior (that is, blocking of exits) is due to the unstable reward structure of the situation (that is, the perception that people must compete to escape) rather than to increased emotional excitement. Experiments were conducted with groups of between 15–21 subjects. Each subject had the task of pulling an aluminum cone attached to a length of string out of a glass bottle with a narrow neck. Only one cone could be withdrawn at a time, so cooperation was needed if the cones were to come out, and “traffic jams” could easily develop. Some groups were informed that the situation was a competitive one in which small sums of money could be won or lost, depending on how successful they were in drawing out their cones. Water was slowly introduced into the bottom of the bottle to simulate the spread of fire in a theater, and the task was to withdraw one’s cone without it getting wet. Mintz expected that traffic jams would occur under these conditions. Other groups were told that the experiment was designed to see how cooperatively they could behave. There were no rewards or “fines” for failure. These conditions were not expected to result in traffic jams (that is, people would behave cooperatively). Certain variations in the design were introduced. In order to test the hypothesis that the unstable reward structure of the situation was a more important factor than emotional excitement in producing non-adaptive group behavior, accomplices pretended to get excited in some of the experiments. Although results were consistent with expectations, the experiment was based on a tautology: namely, that competitive behavior (non-adaptive group behavior) is the result of competition (unstable reward structure). Not surprisingly, if subjects

Current Theories of Panic

15

are asked to take part in a competition they indeed behave competitively; if asked to behave cooperatively, they behave cooperatively. Kelley et al. (1965) began with a critical assessment of Mintz’s work. They suggest that Mintz’s experiment was inappropriate for studying panic since it concerned “rewards not dangers”. They also point out that the small monetary rewards used by Mintz, ranging from 10 to 25 cents, were in no way analogous to the reward for successfully vacating a burning theater (that is, survival). A third objection is that Mintz’s hypothesis is overly “cognitive and rational” in assuming that individuals are no less rational in panic than in other situations and that they are always in pursuit of their own interests and act accordingly. If emotional excitement was not responsible for “non-adaptive group behavior”, then why did his subjects, on seeing two cones jammed in the bottleneck, immediately try to remove their own cones when they could see that only one could be removed at a time? As Lazarus (1966) has pointed out, the emphasis of Kelley et al. (1965) on danger is not necessarily incompatible with Mintz’s views. Even completely abortive attempts at escape may seem more sensible to the individual than no attempt at all. If escape routes are closing, any attempt to escape is worthwhile. At least, nothing is lost by it, since the alternative of being trapped is otherwise certain. Kelley et al.’s design differed from Mintz’s in certain details. They used a board of lights, each light representing a subject’s location with respect to the exit. Subjects were seated at separate booths and electrodes were attached to two fingers. By pressing a switch, the subject could attempt to “escape”. Because only one subject was allowed to press his switch at a time, and the escape mechanism took three seconds to operate, bottleneck situations could easily develop. Danger was created by threatening the subjects with electric shocks delivered via the electrodes to their fingers. The dependent variable consisted of the percentage of subjects escaping within a given time. Four variables were studied: a) the degree of threat, b) the size of the group, c) the susceptibility of individuals to the influence of the group, and d) the opportunity of subjects to communicate feelings of urgency to escape or willingness to allow others to go first. Results were as follows. First, as the degree of threat increased, the percentage of subjects who succeeded in escaping declined. Second, as the size of the group increased, the percentage escaping declined. Third, when one or more subjects indicated their readiness to allow others to escape first, the total number of successful escapes increased and the number of traffic jams declined. As Milgram and Toch (1969: 583) pointed out, Kelley’s situation differs from real-life panics in several important respects. The most the subject can suffer for failing to escape is an electric shock, and “jamming” itself has no aversive quality, as it does in real panics. Finally, Kelley’s experiment deals with avoidance of a noxious stimulus rather than escape from one, whereas in real life, panics involve both escape and avoidance. Milgram and Toch comment that social psychologists need to be more imaginative in designing experiments on collective behavior, but a more fundamental difficulty is the paucity of hypotheses in the field.

16


Foreman Foreman (1953) proposes that panic is a type of rout, an ephemeral form of collective behavior. On the basis of a review of 29 incidents (he does not mention the source of his data), he suggests that most panics develop through the “linkage of a shock stimulus and four phases of human reaction to this stimulus” (p. 298). The initial reaction is “shock or the perception of the crisis as startling”, quickly followed by confusion. When an immediate response is required, confusion merges into the phase of terror, expressed in “shouts, screams, and excited physical movements” (p. 298). These reactions may augment the terror in other individuals. Panic, the final phase, “is activated when interacting terrorized individuals surge away in flight” (p. 299). Foreman notes that common sequelae to panic include “fatigue and stupor, extreme anxiety, excitability and aggression, perhaps persistent terror and, not frequently, secondary panics” (p. 299). He makes three additional points. First, it is not necessary to assume that all individuals are affected in exactly the same way. Second, panic is usually the product of a “chain of reactions following a crisis stimulus”; that is, terror does not necessarily breed panic flight. Third, the theory does not assume that panic is non-adaptive, irrational, inappropriate, negligent, or social behavior. Cantril et al., in his book Invasion from Mars, argued that the panic created by Orson Welles’ broadcast was due to people reacting uncritically to what they heard on the radio. But as Foreman rightly points out, this “evaluative premise about panic, no matter if panic is construed as terror or as rout, ignores or underemphasizes the situational redefinitions which recast the significance of action when time is out of joint” (p. 301). Such moralizing, he adds, appears gross when sociologist W.I. Thomas’s dictum is recalled, that, “if men define situations as real, they are real in their consequences” (Blumer, 1942: 85). Quarantelli Quarantelli (1954, 1957) argues that panic is an acute fear reaction marked by loss of self-control, followed by “non-social and non-rational flight” (p. 267). Such behavior arises when entrapment is sensed as a possibility and when people feel powerless and isolated. Like many other authors, Quarantelli notes that no consensus exists on the meaning of the term “panic”, whether it refers to feelings, actions (individual or collective), or both. Nor is there agreement on the criteria for distinguishing between panic and other phenomena. His analysis of panic is based on data gathered by the Disaster Team of the National Opinion Research Center, University of Chicago. It consisted of tape recordings of non-directive interviews. Over 150 interviews were studied. Three events provided the bulk of the data: a series of house explosions in Brighton, New York in 1951; a plane crash in a residential area in Elizabeth, New Jersey in 1952; and an earthquake in Bakersfield, California, in 1952. Other data on disasters caused by tornadoes, a coal-mile explosion, a plant explosion and several other plane crashes were studied. Over 200 participant and eye-witness accounts were analyzed.


17

Quarantelli discusses the nature of panic and the conditions of panic. He concurs with Foreman (1953) that the outstanding feature of panic is flight. While usually expressed in running, it can also take the form of driving vehicles, swimming, or riding horses. People flee from a threatening situation, and flight is directed away from the danger, though the actual mode of flight may be influenced by habitual patterns and by the behavior of others. The flight of panic is often the “most adaptive course of action that could be taken in the situation … it is only in the very rare instance that panic takes the form of a crowd of individuals trampling over one another like animals in a wild stampede” (p. 270). Quarantelli suggests that rather than being antisocial, panic is non-social, since “ordinary social relationships are disregarded and pre-existent group action patterns fail to be applied” (p. 270). Social norms disintegrate, resulting, on occasion, in the shattering of the strongest primary group ties. While the non-social aspect may be short-lived, it serves to distinguish “many cases of panic from controlled withdrawal behavior. In the case of controlled withdrawal, confused, random, ill-coordinated activity may be manifested, but the normal social bonds and the conventional interactional patterns are not totally disregarded” (p. 270). Panic flight is thus highly individualistic behavior, according to Quarantelli: the very antithesis of organized group behavior. Panic participants also know what they are afraid of. The fear experienced is of something specific (p. 271). But panic flight is not highly rational behavior, in the sense that alternative courses of action are carefully considered; nor is it simply irrational, in the sense of false “deductions from certain premises … For the fleeing person, his action appears to him quite appropriate to the situation as he perceives it at that time” (p. 272). Panic behavior is best described as non-rational in that participants focus on the idea of flight but fail to take into account the consequences of their actions. The conditions for panic are specific and contributory. The most important specific condition is the feeling of possible entrapment. “It is not that affected individuals believe or feel they are definitely trapped. In such cases, panic does not follow” (p. 273; see also Foreman, 1953: 303). Other specific conditions mentioned include a feeling of helplessness, part of which involves a sense of “aloneness”. Among the contributory conditions is the feeling shared by individuals in the group that the situation will result in flight, for example, the belief that fire in a theater will lead to flight. Previous crises also sensitize individuals to the possibility of recurrent crises. Quarantelli notes that the frequency of panic has been exaggerated in the “disaster” literature. Compared with other reactions, flight is a relatively rare phenomenon. K. Lang and G. Lang The Langs (1961) discuss panic in Chapter 4 of their book Collective Dynamics, under the heading “demoralization and panic”. In their view, panic is a “collective retreat from group goals into a state of extreme ‘privatization’” (p. 83); that is, each individual is interested solely in his own welfare. As a process of “collective


18

demoralization”, two elements are disrupted. Social definitions or expectations no longer prevail, and emotional ties between individuals grow tenuous. For the Langs, panic refers “not to a particular kind of response, but to all the various responses that express demoralization” (p. 85, italics omitted). The Langs distinguish between a) terror responses, which affect individuals, b) escape mobs, and c) mass panics, exemplified by the financial panic. In the latter, reactions are due to shared psychological conditions in which individuals share a generalized sense of loss of direction and support. The difference between an escape mob and panic-in-the-mass is that in the latter the persons afflicted are not in physical contact. According to the Langs, one or more of five tendencies are observed in panics: (a) paralysis and immobility, (b) psychoneurosis (conversion and other hysterical reactions), (c) hyperactivity (confused, more or less random, precipitate action), (d) premature and excessive fixation on a particular course of action, (e) exclusive concern of the panicking individual for his own welfare. The demoralization process leading to panic has four phases. The initial phase of impact involves (a) predisposing conditions and (b) orientation to the danger situation. Predisposing conditions for panic include extreme fatigue, undernourishment, dehydration, illness, exposure to cold and bad weather, and loss of companions. “Orientation to the danger” involves the individual’s degree of prior experience with a particular threat. The second stage of privatization and regression refers to the undermining of group ties. This category includes a variety of special fears and threats. The third phase, in which group norms are disrupted, involves the breakdown not just of affective ties but of social mores and obligations. The fourth stage of contagion and mutual facilitation includes, for example, the influence of the presence of others in a panic situation on affected individuals’ perceptions of the event. The Langs have provided a compendium of some of the prevalent ideas and literature on the topic of panic. Their conception of the range of behaviors included under the term “panic” is considerably more diverse than that of other writers so far mentioned. Smelser Smelser’s (1963) Theory of Collective Behavior is a complex work of sociological theory that seeks to bring under a single framework various forms of collective behavior including panics, crazes, hostile outbursts, norm-orientated (reform) movements, and value-oriented (revolutionary) movements. His book opens with the interesting observation that many forms of collective behavior seem to occur together in time and place, and his theory aims to account for this fact and to specify the conditions producing one form of collective behavior rather than another.


19

The first part of the book is directed towards defining collective behavior and describing the theory. According to Smelser, the various forms of collective behavior can be distinguished in terms of “generalized beliefs” held by participants. For example, panic is defined as “collective flight based on a hysterical belief” (p. 131), a belief that a definite threat is present and that escape routes are closing. The two key features of Smelser’s approach are the concepts of “value-added” and the “components of social action”. Taking the latter first, Smelser, following Talcott Parsons, distinguishes four components of social action. In order of increasing specificity, they are: values, norms, mobilization of motivation into organized action, and situational facilities. Each component is further subdivided into several levels of specificity. The components provide the basis for differentiating the five major forms of collective behavior. Panic and the craze affect the social structure in a very limited way, since they are only concerned with situational facilities, while the value-oriented movement is, by definition, concerned with social structural changes by the level of basic values. This part of Smelser’s book is an elaborate a priori definition of the forms of collective behavior. Its general import is clarified in two later papers (Smelser, 1964, 1968) in which he points out that collective behavior is essentially “purposive behavior, in which people are trying to reconstitute their social environment … on the basis of a certain type of belief … a generalized belief … it is un-institutionalized action taken in the name of such a belief that constitutes an episode of collective behavior” (Smelser, 1964: 90). The value-added aspect of the theory is what Smelser (1964: 91) describes as an “intellectual apparatus” for ordering the determinants of collective behavior from general to specific. Each determinant is seen as logically, though not necessarily temporally prior to the next; and each is a necessary but not a sufficient condition for the occurrence of a given form of collective action. Taken together, the necessary conditions constitute the sufficient condition for its occurrence. Smelser (1964: 9lff.) illustrates the utility of the value-added scheme with reference to financial panic. The first necessary condition is structural conduciveness. Under this category he includes the ability of persons to dispose of their resources rapidly and at will. If property is closely tied to kinship and can only be disposed of on the death of the father, panic is impossible. The second condition is structural strain, for example, the threat of financial loss. This factor can give rise to such phenomena as scapegoating or reform movements. Consequently, this is a necessary, not a sufficient condition for panic. The next, more specific determinant, is the growth of a generalized belief. The threat is exaggerated and seen as imminent, and the result is a hysterical belief in which an uncertain threat is transformed into a definite prognostication of disaster. Events such as closing the banks produce this belief. Mobilization may, for example, be precipitated by a dramatic event such as the rumor of a “panic sell” by a leading holder of securities. Finally, the operation of social controls has to be considered at all stages of the value-added process. These consist of counter-measures for the above conditions, and may be in operation either before or after the event. For example, scare rumors may be “spiked” or potential sellers may be prevented from selling.


20

In his chapter on panic, Smelser (1963) illustrates these determinants with reference to a considerable volume of material. His special knowledge of economic history (Smelser, 1959; Parsons and Smelser, 1956) is brought to bear in the analysis of financial panics. Detailed comments on Smelser’s theory are given in Chapter 14. Some general points are made here. Commenting on his own theory, Smelser (1968) points out that the theory implicitly assumes that the various sociological determinants exert their influence in the individual human mind, and must be combined in the minds of participants (cf. Brown, 1965: 278ff.). The simultaneous existence of structural conduciveness in the stock market in New York City, the fear of economic loss on the part of French peasants (strain), and a rumor of panicky selling of suburban real estate in Sydney (the precipitating event around which a hysterical belief crystallizes), surely will not cause panic. Secondly, insufficient account is taken of the fact that “strains” (for example, unemployment) affect people in different ways. Thirdly, even if it is assumed that all respond to unemployment in the same way, it is still assumed that the unemployed are predisposed to collective behavior if other conditions are present. But not all unemployed people do participate in collective behavior. On these points Smelser was perhaps being too stringent in his criticism. The question is not so much whether every unemployed person reacts in a given way, but whether or not a significant proportion does so (that is, a greater number than that expected by chance). His fourth point is that the theory does not take into account the different types of participation in an episode of collective behavior. For example, more needs to be said about leaders, and different types of leadership in collective behavior, as well as different types of followers. Reference to internal psychological events, he suggests, is necessary for discriminating among individuals in terms of their thresholds for different kinds of involvement. Finally, there may be episodes of collective behavior that have little to do with social conditions. For example, fear of entrapment as an ingredient in panic, and a sense of religious mission in religious cults, may exist as enduring psychological predispositions with little reference to a particular social environment. In the case of certain individuals, the social environment may simply provide them with the opportunity to act out their psychological problems. Schultz Schultz (1964a) edited a collection of readings on panic that contained an original article on “Panic in organized collectivities”.1 He begins by pointing out that panic in organized groups has rarely been analyzed, except by S. Freud (1922; see Chapter 14 for a discussion of Freud’s theory). Although the published literature is generally unsuitable for detailed analysis, the available evidence suggests that panic in military groups is rare, while the kinds of threats that ordinarily produce panic are often

1

Reprinted in part from the J. Soc. Psychol., 1964, 63, 353–359.


21

present in combat situations. How, then, can panic (or its absence) in military groups be explained? Schultz suggests that the explanation lies in the factor of group cohesiveness. More specifically, he suggests that the prevention of panic in organized groups depends largely on the capacity of the immediate primary group to avoid social disintegration. When the primary group is able to satisfy the individual’s physiological and socialpsychological needs, the element of self-concern is minimized. However, when the primary group is disrupted by various pre-dispositional and/or precipitating factors, preoccupation with physical survival becomes intense and the attraction to remain a member of the group is minimized or lost (p. 65). Schultz suggests that military groups take on the characteristics of primary (that is, family-type, intimate) groups and that the soldier’s ability to survive the stress of combat depends largely on the maintenance and continuity of these relationships. Consequently, when such ties (group cohesiveness) break down or “disintegrate”, panic flight occurs. This hypothesis is similar to that of Freud (1922), except that Freud uses the term “libidinal ties” whereas Schultz uses the term “group cohesiveness”. Schultz, however, explicitly rejects the theory underpinning Freud’s concept of libidinal ties. Both theories are further discussed in Chapter 14. Brown Roger Brown (1965) proposed a theory of panic in his widely praised textbook Social Psychology. In panics, he observes, “the social contract is thrown away and each man single-mindedly attempts to save his own life at whatever cost to others. When people are pushed and trampled and exits are jammed one speaks of panic. When people are ruthless and selfish beyond the ordinary and beyond what the culture approves one speaks of panic” (p. 737). Brown distinguishes two forms: escape and acquisitive panics. All panics, however, “involve a competition for something in short supply: exits in the case of the Iroquois Theater fire, land or gold or food in the case of acquisitive panics (p. 716). Brown writes with approval of Mintz’s “unstable reward structure” (that is, competitive) conception of panic and suggests that it resembles the famous problem of “the Prisoners’ Dilemma” in game theory (Luce and Raiffa, 1957). The resemblance is not so strong, however, that “the Prisoners’ Dilemma” can be considered a model for panic: there is an analogy, nothing more (p. 738). The essentials of “The Prisoners’ Dilemma” are as follows: Two men (A and B) are held in custody on a criminal charge. Both are known to have committed the offense, but there is insufficient evidence to convict them. It is pointed out to them that each has two alternatives: either to confess or not to confess. If both do not confess, each will get one year’s imprisonment for having committed a minor offense. If both do confess, each will get eight years’ imprisonment (considerably less than the maximum sentence). But if one confesses and the other does not, the one who confesses will get six months and the other will get 20 years. The payoff matrix for the dilemma is illustrated in Figure 2.1 below:

22


Prisoner B Not Confess Not Confess

1 year for A 1 year for B

Confess

6 months for A 20 years for B

Confess 20 years for A 6 months for B

Prisoner A

Figure 2.1

8 years for A 8 years for B

Payoff Matrix for Prisoners’ Dilemma (from Brown, 1965: 739).

In other words, there are four possible combinations of confessing and not confessing, and each prisoner is aware of them. Brown points out that panic situations may be analogous if we regard each individual in the burning theater as P, and others nearby as G (representing the group, that is, the rest). The alternatives are either to rush for the exit or to wait one’s turn. Brown assumes that if P and G wait their turn, escape can be effected for all, barring some minor burns. This outcome is assigned the value +. If P and G rush for the exit, the outcome may involve severe burns (–). If P waits his turn, and G rushes ahead, G will escape, while P may die. If, however, P rushes the exit, but G does not, the payoffs would be reversed. Since waiting one’s turn in this situation would result in certain death, the assigned value is – –. Rushing the exits, however, would lead to certain escape without injury (+ +). As Brown points out, the payoff matrix is unrealistic in several respects. First, because individual payoffs would be different, depending on where they were in relation to the exit. For those farthest from the exit there would be no dilemma at all; nor for those nearest the exit. Secondly, the consequence for P of a rush by G would not be the same as the consequence to G of a rush by P. P is one person; G is a group. However, the essence of the escape dilemma is still preserved: if everyone can be trusted to wait, all will escape. But can each trust the others? In the “Prisoners’ Dilemma”, assuming that Prisoner A cannot know whether B will confess or not and vice versa, the most rational decision for each would be to confess, because whatever the other did, the most he would get would be eight years and the least would be six months. But the rational solution is not the best solution from their mutual point of view, since each will get eight years’ imprisonment. Similarly in the “Entrapment Dilemma”, the most rational solution is to rush the exit, possibly resulting in fairly severe burns for all, since if, say, P waits his turn, there is no guarantee that G will not rush ahead, leaving P to perish in the blaze. Thus, Brown concludes, “… the non-normative socially disapproved action of rushing the exits is the rational solution of the entrapment problem …” (p. 741). For Brown, the essence of panic is a certain payoff matrix that need not involve


23

more than two persons. Brown goes on to discuss “acquisitive panic” also in terms of payoff matrices. All panics, according to him, involve competition. On the question of the supposedly individualistic-competitive nature of panic behavior, a detailed discussion is presented in Chapter 14. We shall confine the discussion here to a few brief remarks. First, not all panics, so-called, are competitive in nature. There can be individual panics, in which, for example, men have been known to leap out of their trenches and dash randomly about the battlefield exposing themselves to fire. There can also be panics of “affiliation”, in which a given individual frantically attempts to be reunited with another individual; and there are also “collective panics” in which, for example, people run out of their homes thinking the building is about to collapse following an explosion. When combat troops run toward the rear, escape is often possible in any direction within a range of 180 degrees. As a definition of panic, therefore, “competitive behavior” is too limited. Even if it is granted that rushing for the exits in theater fires (panic) is essentially competitive behavior, one can question whether Brown’s analysis tells us more than Mintz’s: namely, that competitive behavior is the result of people defining a situation as a competition. In other words, explanations of the situation in terms of payoff matrices or in terms of unstable reward structures are not explanations but tautologies. If panic is described as competitive behavior we learn nothing new on being told that it is the result of a competition. The world envisioned by non-zero-sum games such as “The Prisoners’ Dilemma” is a cynical one and, more importantly, improbable. Rational calculation of payoffs does occur in a limited range of human situations, but a difficulty with the model is the assumption that individual action is contingent on payoffs calculated with respect to a particular and temporally unchanging dilemma. In real life, it is not always easy to define the boundaries of a particular “game”. At any moment, individuals’ goals are likely to change, particular goals may be replaced by more inclusive goals, or a more long-term goal may be replaced by a short-term goal, and vice versa. There is also the assumption that each person has the same goal, and defines the situation in exactly the same way: an unlikely possibility at most. The competitive model assumes that people go to the theater by themselves – at least that the only concern people have for others is whether or not they attempt to block their escape. As soon as the model is required to take into account the “factor” of human relationships, which is likely to exist in theater fire situations, the simplicity of the model disappears. Perhaps Brown would argue that family groups could be regarded as single units (that is, as “Ps”) for analytical purposes. But many parents might be unwilling to chance rushing for the exits with their children even though they would be prepared to do so if alone. Parents would probably want to wait a few moments to see what others would do. To attempt to empathize with participants is to realize that the range of behaviors shown in a theater fire eludes analysis on the basis of the rational calculation of payoffs alone. When the Titanic sank in April 1912, after striking an iceberg, most of the passengers and crew sang as they went to their deaths. The sea was quite calm and most of the lifeboats were undamaged

24


in the collision but, incredibly, only the women and children were put to sea. How would the “Prisoners’ Dilemma” apply here? Obviously it would not apply, because the situation was not defined competitively. But the crucial question is why it was not defined competitively, even though the familiar ingredients for panic were present. The passengers obviously knew they would drown if they did not launch the boats, but defining the situation in competitive terms was apparently over-ruled by stronger “forces” of social control. People in crowds often report feeling the urge to imitate others, irrespective of their own goals or intentions. Analysis in terms of payoff matrices cannot take into account these so far unexplained influences over behavior.

PART I Theories of Affiliative Behavior


Chapter 3

Theories of Affiliation Introduction The nature of panic flight seems, at first sight, to be self-evident: each individual is frantically seeking self-preservation in utter disregard of other individuals. Five hundred people were killed in the mad rush to escape the blaze in the Iroquois Theater fire in Chicago in 1903. This could hardly be regarded as a testimony to man’s basic altruism! Indeed, many authorities have an implicitly Hobbesian view of the nature of panic and see it as a breakdown of the social order, as a result of which man’s supposedly brutish nature comes to the fore. On this view, panic flight epitomizes the real nature of human beings. When social norms no longer provide constraint, or when the “social contract” is disregarded, anarchy and chaos ensue. When I began my studies on panic, this conception of panic in theaters and other confined spaces was widely held and did not seem entirely unreasonable. However, on the basis of introspection and empathy alone, it occurred to me that there might well be cases of panic “flight” where individuals were just as much trying to stay close to other individuals as attempting to escape from a supposed danger. To take an entirely hypothetical situation, imagine that two young brothers are walking together through a graveyard one night. The younger boy is frightened and tries to stay close to the other boy. Suddenly, for no apparent reason, the older brother breaks into a run, whereupon his little brother begins to run frantically in the same direction. The problem is how to interpret the action of the younger boy. Was he fleeing from the same danger he imagined his older brother was escaping from, or was he simply trying to stay close to the older boy, from whom he did not want to be separated? I felt that the second boy’s behavior was not simply one of autonomous escape from an imagined danger; it seemed too much oriented to that of the other boy for this explanation to be satisfactory. Was it, in fact, a case not of flight but of affiliation? I developed the hypothesis that many panics were driven not so much by external danger and limited escape routes but by the threat of separation from companions or loved ones, against a background of heightened anxiety. A reading of the literature suggested that the circumstances of many military panics were directly analogous to this imaginary scenario of two brothers walking together in a graveyard at night (see later chapters). The same scenario seemed to hold in many everyday situations, as in cases where a mother animal (or human) might get up and move away, thereby drawing her offspring after her. The triggering event leading others to follow the initiator of the action was not so much an immediate external threat but the threat of separation from either a mother, older brother, loved

28


one, close companion, or platoon commander. Further reflection suggested that in other cases, as in theater fires and other classic panic situations, mass movement was at once directed away from physical danger but simultaneously toward other people – people in the situation itself or outside the immediate area, such as home, a base camp, or some other “haven of safety”. Thus I concluded that flight and affiliative behavior, that is, the supposedly irreducible behavioral categories of approach and avoidance, were in fact not mutually exclusive responses but different aspects of a more fundamental principle of human (and other species) behavior; namely, the tendency to approach and remain close to familiar conspecifics, places, or objects. Ironically, through a study of collective panic, a phenomenon which hitherto had been regarded as virtually synonymous with social chaos and the abandonment of social relations, I developed the theory that the overriding principle of human behavior was to seek the familiar and to maintain social bonds through affiliative behavior, especially in times of crisis or danger. In order to explore this possibility further – that “flight” was an incomplete or incorrect description of many panics and was better described as affiliative on some occasions, and on other occasions as a combination of flight and affiliation – I began an extensive study of the nature of affiliative behavior. It is to this issue that we now turn. Affiliation – A Social Psychological Perspective It is commonly observed that when people are frightened they seek companionship. But like so many everyday observations its interpretation is far from obvious and gives way, under close scrutiny, to reveal the highly complex nature of human bonds and the relationship between emotion and behavior. It is well known, for instance, that not all degrees of fear are associated with attachment-seeking; extreme fright can lead to paralysis, and even moderate anxiety over long periods can lead to apathy and social withdrawal. Companionship itself is far from being a transparently obvious concept. What is involved? Is it physical proximity, physical contact, friendship? And will anyone do for companionship or only certain people or types of people? These are some of the issues that must be faced in unpacking this generalization. Attachment behavior is one of a great many kinds of activity associated with fear and emotionality and has been studied from diverse standpoints. A number of attempts have been made to explain the phenomenon of affiliation. There is, first of all, the seminal work of Stanley Schachter (1959), which has generated numerous investigations, many using psychophysiological data (for example, Schachter and Singer, 1962; Gerard and Rabbie, 1961; Robertson and Dotson, 1969). Second, there is a body of research associated with the dynamics of “small groups” (for example, Cartwright and Zander, 1960; Lanzetta, 1955), dealing with such phenomena as the relation between threat and group cohesion. Third, a research program has evolved on the concept of “dependency”, based on a social-learning approach (for example, Gewirtz and Baer, 1958a,b; Gewirtz and Stingle, 1968). Finally, comparative and

Theories of Affiliation

29

developmental psychological traditions have focused on the growth of attachments between infant and mother and the response to separation and deprivation in the young. Here the work of the Harlows (1965) and of Mason (1965) on primates, and Ainsworth (1969), Rheingold (1966) and Schaffer and Emerson (1964), among others, on human infants, has been influential. Bowlby (1969, 1973) has provided an important theoretical and empirical synthesis of the literature on attachment behavior. This division of research into “traditions” is somewhat arbitrary as there are considerable overlaps, but the work of the ethologists and developmentalists has evolved in relative isolation from that associated with Schachter’s (1959) socialpsychological approach. An exception, however, is Walters and Parke (1964b) (see Chapter 4). In this chapter we review research on affiliation initiated by Schachter and his associates. We begin by considering Schachter’s (1959) findings and interpretation of the relation between anxiety and affiliation. Having found that isolation tended to evoke anxiety, Schachter hypothesized that anxiety would lead to an increased desire to be with others. A “high anxiety” condition was created by telling subjects that they would receive painful electric shocks; a “low anxiety” condition was created by informing others that they would feel no more than a pleasant tingle from an electrical stimulus. Subjects were then told that there would be a 10-minute delay before the shocks were administered. They could choose either to wait with others before the experiment (“affiliation”) or to wait alone. Highly anxious subjects tended significantly to choose to wait with others, a finding that has often been replicated (for example, Gerard and Rabbie, 1961; Sarnoff and Zimbardo, 1961; Zimbardo and Formica, 1963; Darley and Aronson, 1966). Schachter suggested five possible explanations: (a) escape, (b) cognitive clarity, (c) direct anxiety reduction, (d) indirect anxiety reduction, and (e) self-evaluation through social comparison. The first two were dismissed on the grounds that if they were valid, subjects would need to communicate verbally with each other. Since subjects wanted to be with others even when they were forbidden to speak, he concluded that the escape and cognitive clarity hypotheses were incorrect. Rabbie (1963), however, presented evidence supporting a “cognitive clarity” explanation of increased affiliative preference. Until more work is done on the conceptual ambiguity involved in the notions of escape and cognitive clarity (the latter of which could be interpreted as a variant of (e), it is difficult to know how to evaluate these explanations. Schachter also eliminated “indirect anxiety reduction” (that is, taking one’s mind off the anticipation of the shock by conversation) on the grounds that, if light conversation was required, anyone would do to talk with, especially someone not taking part in the experiment. But subjects only wanted to wait with those who were about to undergo the same experience as themselves. This left the direct anxiety reduction and self-evaluation theories. Schachter concluded by postulating that needs for anxiety reduction and self-evaluation could explain the relation between anxiety and affiliation.

30


The issue was further examined by Wrightsman (1960), who raised the question: Does affiliation with others reduce anxiety directly as a function of proximity? Anxiety was elicited in four groups of same-sex subjects by informing them that they would receive a painful injection. Subjects then had to choose between (1) waiting alone, (2) waiting with others but without talking, or (3) waiting with others and being able to talk. It was found that five minutes after waiting, subjects in the latter two conditions experienced a decrease in anxiety, but the decrease was not significantly different in comparison with subjects in the first (“alone”) condition. Subjects were then divided into first-born (including only children) and laterborns, and first-born subjects in the two latter conditions showed a significantly reduced level of anxiety than those in the first condition. Wrightsman concluded that, for first borns at least, both the direct anxiety reduction and self-evaluation theories were valid. But as Darley and Aronson (1966) pointed out, it is not clear from Wrightsman’s data that affiliation was motivated by a desire to reduce anxiety or a desire on the part of subjects to compare their feelings with those of others. Desires, they note, cannot be inferred from consequences. And even if both desires are present, it is not clear which is the more powerful in a given situation. In Darley and Aronson’s experiment, a female subject first had to report her degree of fear on an 11-point scale ranging from +5 (“as calm as I’ve ever been”) to a –5 (“nervous as I’ve ever been”), after which one confederate indicated that she was two points less afraid than the subject, and a second confederate indicated that she was one point more afraid than the subject. If social comparison desires motivated the choice of affiliation partner, it was anticipated that the subject would choose to be with the girl most like herself in professed degree of fear, since “social comparison theory predicts that a person will choose to compare herself with a person who reacts most like herself in the emotion-producing situation” (p. 68). In fact, high-fear subjects chose to wait with the slightly more nervous confederate significantly more than the low-fear control group. On this basis, the authors concluded that emotional comparison was a stronger motive for affiliation than anxiety reduction. Unfortunately, it is not clear that these findings provide anything like a crucial test. As the authors note, the findings could still be interpreted in direct anxiety reduction terms. For example, subjects might choose the more nervous confederate as a partner as a means either of calming herself (“contrast theory”) or because, in the process of calming the more nervous girl, she would be calmed herself (“motherhood theory”). In a further experiment to test these alternatives, the first confederate reported (as before) that she was two points more nervous than the subject, but the other confederate said she was exactly as nervous as the subject. Social comparison theory predicted the subject would choose the second confederate as a partner, whereas the “contrast” and “motherhood” theories would predict the choice of the more nervous girl. The subjects in this experiment chose overwhelmingly for the person who reported being equally as afraid as the subject, thus supporting a social comparison explanation.


31

However, the equally frightened girl might have been chosen as a partner because she appeared to share the same degree of fear, not necessarily because the decision would allow her to “compare her feelings” with those of the confederate. Furthermore, we do not know whether affiliation with the equally frightened girl might, in fact, have resulted in a decrease in anxiety. This last point raises a number of issues to which we shall return. A further experiment reported by Darley and Aronson complicates the situation even more. They found that subjects in a highuncertainty group wanted, even more than those in the low fear group, to be with the calm subject or to be alone, and did not want to be with the nervous person. It would, of course, be expected that subjects experiencing high uncertainty would have maximal needs for self-evaluation and would therefore choose to be with the nervous individual. But the choice of the calmer subject was that expected if anxiety reduction was the crucial determinant. Incidentally, the high uncertainty condition was created in the same way as in the high fear condition, with the difference that subjects were led to believe that the experiment was novel for the experimenter. Subjects in the high uncertainty condition tended to rate themselves intermediate in degree of fear between that of the high- and low-fear groups. From this brief review it appears that tests of the self-evaluation or direct anxiety reduction theories of affiliation under anxiety are contradictory and inconclusive, and indeed more bewildering than illuminating. As Robertson and Dotson (1969) point out, the etiology of affiliation remains unclear. Disentangling the Issues A necessary first step in attempting to disentangle the issues is to study the concepts of anxiety and affiliation themselves. Conceptual issues are seldom, if ever, raised to these studies. Schachter (1959) himself makes no explicit distinction between fear and anxiety and in fact uses the terms synonymously. Helmreich and Collins (1967) equate fear with “stress” but operationally assess its presence in the usual way – that is, by informing subjects that they are to receive painful electric shocks. Wrightsman (1968) feels that the distinction is of no practical importance. In contrast, Sarnoff and Zimbardo (1961) distinguish fear (the anticipation of pain from an objectively dangerous source) from anxiety (apprehensiveness aroused by an objectively innocuous source) and assume that anxiety rather than fear is evoked when male subjects (university students) are informed that they will be required to suck on the nipples of babies’ bottles, pacifiers and similar objects associated with breast feeding. The authors argued that this would create anxiety insofar as it would evoke the expression of “repressed oral motives”. Their distinction is, however, challenged by Walters and Parke (1964b), who suggest that a common state of emotional arousal underlies both the high fear and high anxiety conditions and that it is not necessary to postulate two distinct emotional states, fear and anxiety. A further difficulty is raised by Robertson and Dotson (1969), who suggest that fear may not have been the emotion actually experienced in the Schachter-type experiments. The situation may

32


have been unpleasant but not necessarily fear-arousing. Schachter’s and Sarnoff and Zimbardo’s subjects in both the fear and anxiety conditions more often expressed uneasiness or dislike of the situation than fear. Robertson and Dotson conclude that “subjects in the shock-threat treatment of these studies did not uniformly experience a fear emotion” (p. 230). It is doubtful, then, that “high anxiety” was actually created or measured in these studies. The next question is: Does “high anxiety” lead uniformly to affiliation? Although the general proposition has some validity (Rabbie, 1963; Dittes and Zemach, 1964; Gordon, 1966), there are numerous difficulties and inconsistencies. In their study, Sarnoff and Zimbardo (1961) correctly predicted that subjects in the high anxiety condition would not wish to affiliate, while those in the high fear condition would; and for this reason they insisted on making a distinction between fear and anxiety. But it is difficult to understand why university students would feel threatened and hence anxious by having to suck on nipples and pacifiers; indeed, the authors did not measure the extent of anxiety either by direct questionnaire or physiological means, but instead used projective techniques. If this method of assessment was valid, the high-anxiety subjects did appear more aroused than the low-anxiety group, but not as aroused as the high-fear group. A second problem with their interpretation (Walters and Parke, 1964b) is that the choice of the high-anxiety subjects to wait alone is not necessarily attributable to the difference between anxiety and fear, but rather to the fact that it would simply be inappropriate for adult males to seek companionship under these conditions. The meaning subjects attach to their choice of actions is a question to which we return. It is clear, however, that the relation between anxiety and affiliation is partly influenced by the social or cultural meanings associated with the testing conditions. Other studies suggest that anxiety and/or fear do not always lead to affiliation. Latané and Wheeler (1966) studied a group of enlisted men at a naval base who volunteered to help officials at the site of a plane crash. Those scoring highest on emotionality, as measured by Lykken’s (1957) “Activity Preference Inventory”, reported being more distressed by the experience than non-enlisted men, but the former wanted to talk less about it and were less likely to write home following the crash than were the latter. The fact that the men were reluctant to talk about their experience does not necessarily mean that they did not show signs of increased affiliative behavior after the event. Sheatsley and Feldman (1964), on the basis of a survey, found that those most disturbed by the assassination of President Kennedy wanted to be left alone for a few days subsequently, and Gerard and Rabbie’s (1961) most fearful subjects in the high fear condition chose to be alone rather than wait with others. While the laboratory studies mentioned here may have succeeded in creating two significantly different levels of anxiety or fear, the ascription of high fear to the upper level probably has only a slight relationship to the experience of “high fear” in nonlaboratory situations. At very high levels such behavior as freezing (Solomon and Wynne, 1953; Mowrer, 1940), panic-like running (Solomon and Wynne, 1953) and stereotyped movements (Maler, 1956) tend to occur. The intensity of stress and/or fear


33

is obviously a crucial factor in determining subsequent behavior, but measurement issues remain unresolved. Schachter (1959) and others have used a fairly standard procedure for creating “anxiety”, but the presence of anxiety as a feeling state has often been assumed and cross-validation procedures need to be utilized (Walters and Parke, 1964b; Kelly and Walter, 1968; Lader and Wing, 1966). Taking a broader look at the determinants of affiliative behavior, Bowlby (1969: 254) lists the activating conditions for what he describes as “attachment behavior”1 under three headings that clearly include the conditions presumed to elicit affiliation: (1) Condition of the child: fatigue, hunger, ill health, pain, cold; (2) Whereabouts and behavior of mother: mother absent, mother departing, mother discouraging of proximity; (3) Other environmental conditions: occurrence of alarming events, rebuffs by other adults or children. It would seem reasonable to assume that attachment behavior in the young shares many of the characteristics of affiliative behavior as a whole. But while “anxiety” or “fear” are major determinants and subjective states associated with increased affiliation, there are other, often surprising correlates. Schachter (1959) found that first-born and only children were more prone to affiliate when anxious than laterborns, and this relationship held even in the absence of anxiety (Radloff, 1961). Firstborn college students are also more likely to join extra-curricular organizations than later-borns, but fear is thought unlikely to be the factor mediating these relationships (Robertson and Dotson, 1969). Even harder to reconcile with the anxiety-affiliation hypothesis is the fact (Schachter, 1959) – so far explained – that increased hunger is associated with an increase in affiliative preferences. On the other hand, hunger is one of the factors listed by Bowlby as an activating condition for attachment behavior. In their lucid and useful paper, Walters and Parke (1964b) assert that the common element underlying the various conditions associated with affiliation and dependency (and by implication attachment behavior) is a state of increased physiological arousal (see Chapters 4, 6, et seq.). But research on affiliation has not been systematically integrated within the larger research traditions on “dependency” and “attachment” behaviors.

1 Bowlby explicitly states that his concept of attachment behavior is to be differentiated from that of affiliative behavior, in that the former refers to behavior directed towards one or a few particular individuals. A hard-and-fast behavioral distinction between these concepts does seem arbitrary however, since – as we shall see in later chapters – the range of individuals sought in a given situation depends on the magnitude of “stress” and, more importantly, on the degree of development and the state of integrity of the individual’s cognitive map. In situations of natural disaster, and for varying periods following bereavement or abandonment, attachment or affiliative behavior can be directed at almost anyone (Tyhurst, 1951).


34

Affiliation is defined more narrowly than dependency or attachment, as the strength of the “desire to be with others” (Schachter, 1959). Dependency is employed both as a behavioral and a motivational construct (Hartup, 1963). In a behavioral sense, it refers to a set of interrelated and presumably substitutable responses such as asking for help or reassurance, seeking physical contact and attracting attention (Walters and Parke, 1964b). These responses share the characteristics of being instrumental in obtaining “social reinforcement” (Hartup, 1963). This implies that “achievement-seeking behavior” (as a means of obtaining social reinforcement) could also be classified under the category of dependency. However, achievement has traditionally been considered a measure of independence (Beller, 1959, cited in Walters and Parke, 1964b). But consider that first-born and only children, who are more prone than later-born children to affiliate under “stress” (Schachter, 1959; Gerard and Rabbie, 1961; Radloff, 1961, Wrightsman, 1960), tend to be over-represented among college and university students (Schachter, 1959; Capra and Dittes, 1962; Warren, 1963, 1964). Eminent people are also more likely to have been eldest or only children than later-born (Schachter, 1959). One might therefore predict that first-borns tend disproportionately to have a high need for achievement, which is in fact the case (Sampson, 1962).2 Attachment behavior, according to Bowlby (1969; see also King, 1966), is a class of social behavior akin to mating and parental behavior, best conceptualized in terms of control systems. Attachment behavior is what occurs when certain innate systems are activated, and proximity to mother or mother-figure is the set-goal of the system. Although attachment behavior persists throughout life in most species, Bowlby’s focus is on attachment behavior in the young, especially infants, where the threshold for attachment behavior is much lower than in later life. Bowlby notes that the figures toward whom attachment behavior is directed change and widen somewhat as the individual matures. For human infants of about two years of age, mother’s departure or anything frightening activates the behavior system, while the stimuli that most effectively terminate it are the sound, sight, and touch of mother. Between ages 9–18 months, the behaviors of non-nutritional sucking, clinging, following, crying, calling and smelling gradually become organized into a sophisticated goal-corrected system by which the child is maintained in proximity to the mother (Bowlby, 1969: 180).

2

A further difficulty with the term “dependency” is its negatively evaluative connotations (Bowlby, 1969; Walters and Parke, 1964b). Any scientific concept can have evaluative implications, but this does not necessarily mean that the “value-judgment” aspect is inseparable from the factual implications of the concept. As Nagel (1961) points out, to characterize an individual as “anemic” implies a value-judgment (that is, that it is an undesirable state of affairs), but it can also refer neutrally to the proportion of hemoglobin in a sample of blood. What proportion of hemoglobin constitutes a state of anemia is arbitrary, but the precision of measurement tools is not a sufficient basis for suggesting that the social sciences are fundamentally different from the natural sciences, as Walters and Parke imply (1964b: 242n).


35

Bowlby explicitly separates the concept of attachment from that of dependency. In “A note on terminology: ‘Dependence’”, he points out that the very young child is dependent on his mother but his attachment to her only develops later on. Moreover, under certain circumstances, the child may not be dependent on his mother for immediate care and attention yet still be attached to her. Although the various terms are not synonymous and underlying theories differ, there are important similarities in the phenomena included under the categories of affiliation, dependency, and attachment behavior (see Chapter 4). Walters and Parke (1964b: 242) point out that generally positive relationships have been reported among classes of behavior classified as dependent, at least for younger children (Beller, 1955; Sears, 1963). They suggest that “orienting and attending responses are the essential, common components that have been classified as dependent or affiliative” (Walters and Parke, 1964b: 245–263). The response categories are in many ways diverse, but the component of orienting and attending to others is common to all of them. If so, argue Walters and Parke, it is unnecessary to postulate special affiliative, dependency, or attachment needs as do, for example, Schachter (1959), Janis (1963), Heimreich and Collins (1967), and many other authors. Walters and Parke’s proposal is helpful in disentangling the complexities of the relationship between various emotional states and the various measures of affiliativeness. In summary, they suggest that the diverse causal factors can be subsumed under the concept of increased physiological arousal, and the measures of affiliativeness and dependency share in common the basic element of an increased orienting and attending response to others. Their argument is not without difficulties, however, as will emerge in Chapter 4. Differential Responsibility to Anxiety Schachter (1959) found that first-born (including only children) female subjects preferred to wait with others (“affiliation”) before the experiment began, while laterborn subjects preferred to wait alone – a finding confirmed in later work (Gerard and Rabbie, 1961; Wrightsman, 1960; Radloff, 1961). On the other hand, anxiety or fear is associated with affiliative behavior regardless of birth-order or gender, as accords with everyday experience. In the study of Gerard and Rabbie (1961), subjects in the high-fear condition, regardless of birth order or the amount of information on the anticipated stress, chose to be with others more than those in the low-fear condition. First-born subjects were reportedly more anxious and frightened by Schachter’s procedure than later-borns, and anxious first-borns showed stronger affiliative preferences than did equally anxious later-born children. Schachter (1959) suggests that these differences may reflect the possibly more intense bond established between inexperienced mothers and their first-born or only children, resulting in the greater dependency of firstborns and their tendency to affiliate when anxious (see Warren (1966) and Price (1971) for other views on the correlates of birth-order).

36


The Choice of Affiliation Partners Schachter found that affiliative choice was importantly influenced by the characteristics of those with whom the anxious subject could wait. Only those people were chosen who were about to undergo the same experience as the subject. As Schachter expressed it: “misery loves miserable company”. Other studies on this question have produced inconsistencies. Rabbie’s (1963) highly anxious subjects tended to choose an equally anxious subject, whereas Darley and Aronson’s (1966) subjects in the high-fear condition tended to choose a partner reportedly one point more anxious than themselves when the alternative was another individual who was two points less anxious than the subject. Dittes and Zemach (1964) gave their subjects ambiguous written material which produced an increase in felt anxiety. These authors found that subjects expressed a greater preference for being with “warm and congenial strangers” rather than with those who, like the researchers, had studied the material. It is also recalled that the high-uncertainty subjects in Darley and Aronson’s experiment chose to wait alone or with the calmer confederate even more than did the low-fear group. Janis (1963), in a review of group processes under conditions of external danger, has noted the increased dependency behaviors shown by individuals under stress, and particularly the tendency of combat troops to idealize and become dependent on authority figures, a theme pursued earlier by Sigmund Freud (1922). Helmreich and Collins (1967), following up this line of inquiry, found that subjects facing a fearful situation showed a significantly decreased preference for the company of peers and an increased preference for being in a leader-dominated group. Two notable omissions in these studies are the subject’s age as a significant variable affecting the choice of affiliation partner, and the relationship between subjects and their possible affiliation partners. On the latter point, consider Helmrich and Collins’ (1967 two-part study. In Study 1, high school students ages 14–18 were recruited through newspaper advertisements. Subjects were run individually. High, moderate and low fear conditions were created by informing subjects they would have to work on intellectual problems while receiving electric shocks of various intensities (“painful shock”, “noticeable shock” or “subliminal stimulation”). They were then given the choice of working under these conditions alone, with three other same-state peers, or in a leader-led group consisting of two other high school students and a graduate student leader. Contrary to earlier research, there was a clearcut decrease in preference for the company of peers under the high fear conditions, and no birth-order effects were found. The a priori hypothesis predicted only an increase in preference for the leader-led group under high fear – which increased independently – but there was also a significant increase in preference for working alone. Study 2 was designed to clarify these results. This time subjects were run in groups. The same fear conditions were created but subjects were assigned either to a “working” or “waiting” condition (that is, working on the problems during stress, or waiting for the stress situation). Most striking was that over 90% of the subjects


37

chose to be with either the peer group or the leader group, regardless of waiting or working conditions. The authors attribute this difference to the effects of “set” – that is, the fact that subjects were run in groups prior to being offered the chance to affiliate. There may, however, be another explanation. In the Study 2, the subjects – who ranged in ages from 15 to 18 – were drawn from a local high school instead of being recruited through an advertisement, as in Study 1. We can assume, therefore, that in Study 2 the subjects were already acquainted. Consequently, any defensiveness they might have experienced in wanting to affiliate would perhaps have been neutralized by the fact that, since they were normally in each other’s company for most of the day, there would have been nothing unusual about wanting to be together in the experiment. Conversely, in Study 1, for a subject to choose to be with people he had never met might make him appear naively dependent, an impression most boys of that age would be eager to avoid. Whatever the reasons actually formulated in their own minds by the subjects, it is a common observation that the stress of particular traumatic situations is increased when strangers are present. Conversely, stressful situations are made more bearable when friends or family are close by. Thus Back and Bogdonoff (1964), in a classic experiment, showed that the stress response to having blood drawn (measured by free fatty acid levels) was significantly higher when strangers were present compared to when friends were present. As everyday experience reminds us, young children move close and/or cling to their parents’ legs and clothing when alarmed. If a parent or other familiar figure is unavailable, the nearest adult is often sought. Thus, Rosenthal (1967), in an experiment with young girls, found that, when alarmed, the girls tended to stay close to whoever was available in the laboratory; sometimes this was a stranger, sometimes their mother (cited in Bowlby, 1969). This finding is consistent with the observations of Janis and of Helmreich and Collins, that authority figures are sought out for companionship in times of stress or crisis. The social-psychological research tradition on affiliative behavior has been more narrowly conceived than that in comparative and developmental psychology. Often lacking in the former studies is any recognition of the biological, social, cultural and developmental contexts in which affiliation occurs. This cannot be said, however, of Schachter’s original work in this field, since he explicitly attempts to link birth-order effects and sex differences with developmental psychology. An issue common to several studies reviewed in this chapter is the conscious meaning or awareness that subjects attach to experimental rules and requirements, and the effect of this awareness on the experimental outcome. It has been said that individuals are constantly making hypotheses about their own and other people’s behavior (Kelley, 1955), and trying to present a favorable image of themselves (Goffman, 1959). When, as happens in certain laboratory experiments, individuals are asked to choose, for example, whether or not to be with others, their awareness of what is required surely brings into play the cultural or social norms and meanings which subjects associate with these actions. This awareness may lead to the


38

falsification of hypotheses that depend for their validity on the subjects’ lack of awareness. For example, one line of reasoning on the part of a subject might be as follows: “They [the experimenters] want to know if I prefer to be with others when I’m frightened. I am frightened, and I do want to be with others, but I will say I don’t because, for example, I want to spoil the experiment; I will feel ridiculous; men shouldn’t behave like that …”; and so on. Subject to obtaining Ethics Committee approval, future arousal-affiliation studies might experiment with the procedure of creating a state of physiological arousal and then allowing subjects to wait in a large, empty room, before the anticipated shock or other intervention. Telemetric equipment or SAMIS (“socially acceptable monitoring instruments”) (Wolff, 1970) could be used to monitor psychophysiological reactions directly, and concealed videotape equipment could be used to compare spatial distribution and clusters of individuals in the high arousal and control conditions.3 The influence of psychological defenses might be detected and controlled by subsequently asking subjects to describe their feelings and beliefs about the situation. These issues are discussed further in regard to the interesting paper of Walters and Parke (1964b), to which we now turn.

3

This procedure could also be used for studying panic experimentally. A confederate would be asked to walk gradually to the far end of the room, and thus, it is hoped, draw others with him. At a pre-determined signal, the confederate would give a yell and bolt furiously for the door at the far end of the room. Although we would not expect – or even hope – to create a full-scale panic, we would expect subjects in the high fear condition to orient themselves toward the fleeing confederate and perhaps follow him for a short distance, to a greater extent than subjects in a low fear condition. With respect to the first part of the experiment, we would expect high fear subjects to show a greater degree of bunching (affiliative behavior) in the room, compared with controls. Records would be kept of which individuals tended to bunch more, and to “panic” more, and so a considerable amount of information could be gained by this procedure without arousing the suspicions of the subjects (questionnaires could be distributed to check for this). (This was written long before the development of Institutional Review Boards/Ethic Committees. Today, such experiments would probably be disallowed, as they involve deceiving the participants.)

Chapter 4

The Theory of Walters and Parke Walters and Parke (1964b) discuss problems associated with subjectivity and awareness in an important paper setting forth their theory of social motivation and social influence. It is recalled that Sarnoff and Zimbardo (1961) found that men in a high-fear condition sought affiliation, whereas those in an “anxiety condition” involving having to suck on nipples and pacifiers, preferred isolation to company. Walters and Parke’s explanation of these observations is that fear or anxiety was not the issue but rather the learned inappropriateness of an emotional response to such a challenge, leading subjects to conceal any anxiety they might have felt for fear of ridicule. Schachter’s observation that highly anxious subjects chose the company only of those in the same predicament as themselves was similarly interpreted; that is, subjects acted out of concern that if they chose to be with those not under threat, their fears would be considered exaggerated and they would be despised. Walters and Parke’s overall theory is represented graphically as follows:

Isolation (and a variety of other “stressor” stimuli or situations)

Increased Physiological Arousal (“anxiety”/ “fear,”)

Increased Orienting and Attending Responses to Others

Increased Susceptibility to Social Influence (including increased dependency, affiliativeness, imitativeness, and so on)

40


Walters and Parke suggest that dependency and aggression should not be regarded as special classes of behavior elicited by dependency or aggressive “drives”. They propose that stressful stimuli create a state of high physiological arousal (McNulty and Walters, 1962; Walters and Ray, 1960) which leads to increased overt activity and particularly to increased orienting and attending responses to others, reflected in altered perceptual thresholds and restricted cues to which an observer will respond (Bruner et al., 1955; Easterbrook, 1959). This restriction results in focusing attention on what someone else is doing and provides the opportunity for a “model” to channel the subject’s behavior in a specific direction. The differential reinforcement (reward) of certain responses following emotional arousal leads to conditioned emotional responses or habits. For Walters and Parke, this is the principle of socialization. For instance, a child whose particular orienting and attending responses when aroused are strongly reinforced tends to develop habits that enhance the effect of social influences in certain situations in adult life. Thus the tendency toward increased susceptibility to social influence is due to habits of orienting and attending to others while in a state of emotional arousal. Evidence of a positive relationship between measures of dependency and of susceptibility to social influence has been reported among children (Endsley, 1960; Ferguson, 1961), adolescents (Cairns, 1961) and adults (Cairns and Lewis, 1962). Just as differences in susceptibility to social influence are regarded as habits formed by strong adult reinforcement in childhood and infancy, so the form of dependency behavior exhibited is affected by the felt appropriateness of such behaviors on those occasions, which similarly reflect social habits. Walters and Parke thus account for sex differences in affiliation on the basis of cultural norms inculcated into children that prescribe dependency behavior for females and discourage it for males. Walters and Parke have sought to create a theoretical and empirically wellsupported bridge between social, developmental and physiological psychology, linked to the notion of a general state of arousal and to principles of social learning. A major component of their theory is the core relationship established between increased arousal and increased orienting responses. There are, however, certain difficulties in their analysis. Consider the emotional-comparison explanation of the relationship between anxiety and affiliation, which Walters and Parke have themselves criticized. The theory that humans have a “drive” for self-evaluation (Festinger, 1954) assumes that (1) in the absence of physical standards people use others to evaluate themselves; (2) this leads to accurate and stable self-evaluations when a person compares himself with someone similar; and (3) people seek out others for self-evaluation (Latané, 1966). Latané notes that although Festinger devotes little attention to the question of how the self-evaluation drive is aroused and satiated, the latter proposes that as the drive for self-evaluation increases, so does the drive for affiliation. Here we consider the last proposition and the notion that “similar” people are sought out. First, insofar as increases in the “evaluative drive” are associated with increased uncertainty and hence affiliativeness, Darley and Aronson’s (1966) study gave negative results. Second, everyday experience reminds us that affiliation often occurs in unambiguously “fearful” situations; for example, a child runs to its mother when

The Theory of Walters and Parke

41

in pain. While Festinger emphasized the need to validate one’s opinions, Schachter and associates extended the theory to include a need to validate emotions, suggesting that physiologically-aroused individuals seek affiliation with others in the same situation (but not necessarily those in the same state) because of an increased drive for emotional comparison or evaluation. In the 1959 study it was hypothesized that fearful subjects sought affiliation to evaluate how fearful they ought to be. It was found, however, that subjects who had gone without food for 20 hours had a stronger desire for affiliation than subjects who had been deprived of food for only six hours or had just been fed. Hunger, like fear, apparently increases the desire for company. But it seems extremely unlikely that this finding is explicable in terms of a need to evaluate how hungry one feels or ought to feel. The theory of emotional comparison thus fails to account adequately for the full range of situations in which increased affiliativeness appears. Third, it is not clear why the theory contends that someone similar is chosen for self-evaluation. How would the subject needing self-evaluation know that another person was similar if he had no knowledge or insight into his own condition to begin with? Would it not be just as plausible to suggest that if, for example, someone wanted to evaluate his skill at tennis, he would seek out someone skilled in the game? Even on empirical grounds, the results of Helmreich and Collins’ (1967) study and that of Dittes and Zemach (1964) showed that a similarly fearful person is not always sought in preference to a dissimilar other for purposes of knowing how fearful one should be or behave. In fact, the work of Janis (1963) shows that affiliative preferences are often directed towards authority figures, especially those who seem calm in the face of danger. The theory predicts that community services such as the telephone Samaritans would have “gone out of business” because, as counselors rather than fellow sufferers, they would be seen as different from those making the calls. This prediction is evidently not borne out by the continued existence of such services. It is often observed that those who are highly distressed or anxious seek help from practically anyone prepared to listen to them. The tendency of the recently bereaved or people in community disasters to seek identical help and emotional support from virtually anyone has often been noted (Shand, 1920; Tyhurst, 1951; Brandon, 1970). Another question about the theory is why a need for emotional comparison should necessarily entail affiliation (J. Grundy, Personal Communication, 1970). Finally, as discussed in later chapters, the same stimuli that elicit affiliative behavior also elicit a variety of other behaviors in a seemingly non-specific way. These points suggest the need for a more inclusive theory of affiliation. In an interesting and influential study, Schachter and Singer (1962) suggested that the ability of individuals to identify their own emotional states depends not just on “gut” reactions or physiological cues but on information available to them in their immediate situation. To test this notion, subjects were injected with either a placebo or epinephrine (adrenaline), leading to sympathetic nervous system arousal (for example, increased blood pressure and heart rate). Some subjects were told to expect these reactions, some were told to expect other effects, and some were told nothing.

42


Each subject was then introduced to a confederate who pretended to be either very euphoric or very angry. Subjects who were told nothing – given no explanation for their bodily reactions following the epinephrine injection – tended to imitate the confederate more than those who had been given information about their reactions, regardless of how the confederate was acting. The results were interpreted by the authors as confirming the “arousal plus cognition” theory of emotion. Walters and Parke interpret these results rather differently. They first suggest that it is unclear from Schachter’s results whether subjects identified their emotions only after exposure to the confederate: the subjects may have identified their feelings simply by observing their own actual or anticipated behavior. Cognitive factors, they argue, are not so much a component part of the emotion itself but provide cues for self-evaluation (presumably as to the appropriate intensity of the reaction). Their interpretation is that the injection of adrenaline produced a general state of arousal that led to a heightened tendency to imitate the confederate’s behavior. One difficulty with this view is that while arousal may lead to an increased orienting response, it is not clear why increased attentiveness during arousal should account for the subject’s imitation of the confederate. An ornithologist, coming across a new species on a field trip, would probably be highly excited by his discovery and attentive to the bird’s movements, but he would run the risk of being certified as insane if he began to imitate its behavior. It might be objected that imitation in these circumstances would obviously be “inappropriate”, even though birdwatchers do try to imitate the calls of birds, but not other aspects of their behavior. But if imitation of bird movements would be “inappropriate”, why would the hungry subjects in Schachter’s (1959) experiment express greater preference for affiliation than recently fed subjects or those who had not eaten for six hours? What would be the culturally appropriate response under these circumstances? The difficulty with imitation and the problem of explaining affiliation following hunger is twofold. First, the theory does not specify what it is about the characteristics of models that lead to their being imitated. Second, the fact that hunger is associated with affiliation is difficult to explain as a conditioned emotional response or cultural habit, based on social norms. This suggests that Schachter was tapping into behavioral patterns not involving social norms, as further discussed below. The basic organizing postulate of Walters and Parke’s theory – that high arousal leads to an increased orienting and attending response – is at once its most valuable and distinctive feature and its central difficulty. Their theory of socialization involves an infant who is aroused and attentive to stimuli. Everything subsequently is “cultural” or “learned”. They argue that affiliation, for instance, is a conditioned emotional response established in infancy by a model (usually the mother) who reinforces those orienting responses which she judges in the light of her own experience to be appropriate to the child’s age and gender and the situation. Insofar as the nature and form of affiliative behavior involve more than arousal and increased attending, explanation rests entirely on what is judged appropriate in terms of social norms. In accordance with their exclusive emphasis on orienting and attending responses as a function of arousal, the authors express agreement with Rheingold (1961)

The Theory of Walters and Parke

43

that visual contact with the environment is the basis of the socialization process.1 While we agree with Walters and Parke that a common element underlies behavior variously described as affiliation or dependent, they pay insufficient attention to innate components in the socialization process (cf. Ainsworth, 1963; Schaffer and Emerson, 1964), particularly to the fact that affiliative behavior often involves physical proximity and tactile contact with other individuals (cf. Harlow and Harlow, 1965). In the case of infants, the more distressed they are, the more they seek bodily contact or stimulation from mother. Thus, according to Bowlby (1969: 321): That the distance receptors play a far more important part than they have hitherto been accorded seems indubitable, but this is far from concluding that tactile and kinesthetic receptors are unimportant. On the contrary when an infant is much distressed, bodily contact seems vital. (Italics added)

The interpretation of this important tactile aspect of affiliative behavior is the issue to which we now turn.

1

If this were the case, blind children would fail to develop attachments to other human beings, which is clearly false. While blind babies are perhaps slower to develop attachments to particular figures than sighted ones (Bowlby, 1969: 321), it is important to note that a blind child, like a sighted child, tends to cling to whomever is available when the familiar figure is temporarily missing (Nagera and Colonna, cited in Bowlby, 1969: 321).


Chapter 5

Protection from Predators: Bowlby’s Theory In the first volume of his trilogy Attachment and Loss, Bowlby (1969) provides a masterly theoretical synthesis and review of the literature on the formation of attachments in infancy. His central thesis is that attachment behavior has an instinctual basis akin to reproductive and parental behavior; that it is best understood in terms of self-maintaining or control systems; that proximity to mother or mother-figure is the set goal of the system; and that such behavior serves the function of protecting the child from predators. Bowlby richly documents the ways in which attachment behavior develops in the infant and provides evidence that proximity is maintained in various ways and at various intensities, depending on the age of the individual and the variety and intensity of activating conditions.1 Attachment behavior is “activated” by numerous conditions including: bodily conditions such as fatigue, hunger, ill health, pain and cold; mother’s absence, mother’s departure or discouragement of proximity; and alarming events such as rebuffs by other adults or children. Attachment behaviors themselves are grouped into two main categories: (a) Signaling behavior: crying, smiling, babbling, calling and gesturing. (b) Approach behavior: approaching, following and non-nutritional sucking. Bowlby postulates that between ages 9–18 months these behaviors become incorporated into a sophisticated self-correcting system, with proximity to mother as the set-goal. Attachment behavior is readily activated in infancy, but much less so in adulthood. The figures toward whom the behavior is directed change over time and the behavior becomes increasingly symbolic in character. Photographs, letters and telephone conversations become effective methods of “keeping in touch”, provided the activating conditions are mild (Bowlby, 1969: 261). Although no simple scale of the intensity of attachment behavior exists, the behaviors evoked when intensity is low include smiling, relaxed locomotion, watching and touching. When intensity is high, the behaviors include rapid following or approach and clinging. Nothing short of physical contract will “terminate” attachment behavior under these conditions. 1 For more recent discussions and reviews of the nature and causes of attachment behavior the reader is referred to the following: Henry (1993), Insel (1997), Li et al. (2001), Atkinson and Goldberg (2004), Rholes and Simpson (2004) and Grossman et al. (2005).


46

Bowlby includes under the heading of attachment many physical aspects of behavior beyond affiliation, as defined in the social psychological work discussed in earlier chapters. On the other hand, he leaves out of consideration the less directly observable correlates of affiliative behavior such as imitativeness and other features included by Walters and Parke under the rubric of “Susceptibility to social influence”. Bowlby’s explanation of attachment behavior is correspondingly remote from the concerns of social psychology. It is that attachment serves the function of protecting the individual from predators.2 No other theory, he suggests, fits the following facts. First, an isolated animal is more likely to be attacked and seized by a predator than one that stays bunched together with others.3 Second, attachment behavior is elicited particularly easily in animals that, because of age, sex or condition, are especially vulnerable to predators: for example, pregnant females, the young and the sick. Third, attachment behavior is always elicited at high intensity in situations of alarm – which are commonly those in which the presence of a predator is either sensed or suspected (p. 116). Bowlby presents some remarkable evidence on the forms of attachment behavior and on terminating stimuli, which appears to support his evolutionary-adaptive explanation. This evidence relates to clinging, sucking and rocking. The most persuasive evidence concerns clinging. The human infant, though much less adept than his monkey cousins, can cling even at birth, and his ability to do this increases during the next four weeks, by which time he can suspend his own weight for half a minute (McGraw, 1943). Subsequently, this ability declines but then improves again after about 18 months. Clinging is elicited in the infant in the early weeks as well as later on, when he is naked, subjected to changes of “g”, and when alarmed (Bowlby, 1969: 248). Clinging develops from two primitive responses with which the human infant is equipped: the Moro response (embracing reflex) and the grasp response. Prechtl (1965) relates the Moro response in human infants to that shown by infant rhesus monkeys, when any rapid movement of the mother produces an increase in the clasp of the young, preventing the animal from falling off the mother’s body. The Moro response is explained in the same way as primate clinging. In both cases, clinging supposedly serves the function of protecting the infant from predators. Non-nutritional sucking is also interpreted as a form of attachment behavior. In human babies, sucking the thumb or comforter is extremely common, while in monkey babies reared in isolation it is universal (Bowlby, 1969: 249). Normal monkeys, however, attempt to grasp or suck the mother’s nipple, with the result that the infant maintains close contact with her. Hinde, Rowell and Spencer-Booth (1964) point out that when a rhesus infant is clinging to its running or walking mother it attaches itself to her with both arms and legs and at the same time grasps one or both 2

A theory also held by King (1966). Trotter (1919; 142–143) writes: “It is perfectly clear that a densely crowded formation has psychological advantages in the face of danger, which enable quite ordinary human beings to perform what are in fact prodigies of valour ” (see also Lorenz, 1966). 3

Protection from Predators: Bowlby’s Theory

47

nipples with its mouth – a “five-point” hold. Nipple grasping is therefore regarded by Bowlby as a form of attachment behavior and as serving the same function as clinging. Non-nutritional sucking (or nipple-grasping) is to be distinguished from nutritional sucking. Non-nutritional sucking is characterized by the shallowness of sucking movements and the fact that nutritional sucking is directed (in infant monkeys) toward a feeding bottle, whereas non-nutritional sucking is directed towards a comforter. A baboon reared and studied by Rowell (1965) is said to have always sucked a comforter when alarmed rather than the feeding bottle. The attachments which human infants manifest towards comforters, dummies, Teddy bears and other cuddly objects are explained as “objects towards which certain components of attachment behavior come to be directed because the ‘natural’ object is unavailable” (p. 312). The non-nutritive auto-erotic sucking observed in isolated male and female monkeys (Harlow and Zimmerman, 1959) is explained in the same terms. Evidence is also presented that demonstrates convincingly that non-nutritive sucking has a quieting effect on infants independently of any connection with nutritive sucking. Wolff (1969) has found that babies born with atresia of the oesophagus (a condition in which food cannot be taken in by mouth) stop crying when given something to suck (cited in Bowlby, 1969: 292). In the same connection Bowlby notes that rocking infants at 60 cycles per minute or above is an even more effective terminator of crying than non-nutritional sucking. This is shown by their respective effects on heart rates. Ambrose (Personal communication to Bowlby, p. 294), has found that: When a baby is rocked his heart-rate usually returns to the resting level. During nonnutritional sucking, on the other hand, though crying may cease as completely as when he is rocked and heart-rate slackens, the rate nevertheless remains above the resting-level.

When infants are neither spoken to nor rocked they are apt to cry. When they are spoken to and rocked they cease crying and appear content. The special efficacy of rocking is accounted for by Bowlby as follows. He suggests that 60 cycles per minute or above is related to the rate at which an adult normally walks, and that an infant carried on a mother’s back or hip would be rocked at this rate. Rocking is, once, again, taken as evidence for the evolutionary explanation. Several critical questions can be raised about this theory. First, insofar as testability is a criterion of the utility of a scientific hypothesis, Bowlby’s interesting theory that attachment behavior fulfills the function of protecting animals from predators does not meet this requirement. Some of his evidence is highly persuasive, but the central hypothesis is essentially untestable. However, the unfalsifiability of a basic hypothesis does not invalidate a theory. Often, there are corollaries in the theory that are testable. This is certainly the case in Bowlby’s theory as well as in the theory presented in subsequent chapters of the present work. Second, many of the activating conditions for attachment behavior also elicit a variety of behaviors not obviously connected with achieving proximity to a

48


mother figure. These conditions include all of those associated with “stress”, for example, frustration, isolation, anxiety and many other similar concepts. Attachment behaviors are clearly not the only products of fatigue or pain, to name but two of the conditions. Third, a number of facts concerning attachment behaviors themselves are difficult to interpret within the theory of protection from predators. With regard to sucking, everyday experience tells us that when adults are alarmed they often reach for a cigarette or eat and drink in a compulsive fashion. If the comforter is a nipple-substitute for a child, then is the cigarette a nipple-substitute for adults? Here is it suggested that neurophysiological processes can explain this and other sucking behaviors, and that the distinction between nutritive and non-nutritive sucking falls apart on close analysis. To begin by elaborating on this last point, the conditions eliciting nonnutritional sucking also elicit a state of physiological arousal (cf. Walters and Parke, 1964b), and arousal is associated with a tendency towards hyperactivity that is common to both nutritional and non-nutritional sucking. The evidence for this view is plentiful but scattered. The literature on “displacement activities”, general aspects of “drive”, the occurrence of “irrelevant drives”, “central excitatory states” and the correlates of REM (rapid eye movement) sleep and REM-sleep deprivation is highly relevant. REM sleep is concomitant with periods of arousal. EEG records show a low-voltage, desynchronized pattern and marked fluctuations, along with increases in heart rate and respiration rate (Kleitman, 1963). During REM sleep it has been observed that infants make sucking movements and penile erections are reported in males (Hokanson, 1969: 31). Studies of deprivation of REM sleep in humans have produced complaints of psychological discomfort, anxiety and a tendency to overeat – phenomena not observed in or reported by control subjects (Dement, 1960). Weitzman and his associates (1965) found that the rise and fall of the “stress” hormones of the adrenal cortex correlate with periods of REM sleep. Deprivation of REM sleep leads to a build-up of these hormones, which is in turn associated with voracious overeating and hypersexuality in cats (Jouvet, 1965). Tyler (1955) deprived 350 human males of sleep for periods of up to 112 hours. Psychotic-like reactions occurred in almost all subjects; 70% reported audio-visual hallucinations, while seven subjects became aggressive and combative. Thus, arousal (induced by REM sleep deprivation) is associated with general hyperactivity in which increased eating and hypersexuality can occur. In summary, the same conditions that produce non-nutritional sucking activate a variety of other, supposedly unrelated “drives”, including eating and sexual behavior. As Hinde (1966: 148ff.) has emphasized, we are inclined to believe that each activity of an animal or human is governed by a number of independent variables that are more or less specific to that activity. But there is much evidence of interaction between “drives” and the conditions producing them, suggesting that motivational factors may have non-specific effects (Hinde, 1966: 150–165). For example, “fear” induced by electric shock in rats leads to increased rates of eating and drinking (Miller, 1959). Larsson (1963), also using rats, found that two one-minute periods of handling by an experimenter during copulation resulted in an increase in sexual


49

activity. Hinde (1966: 148) reported that gulls and monkeys show an increase in sexual activity following mild disturbances. Similarly, “conflict,” which is known to induce arousal (Duffy, 1962; Bindra, 1959), can elicit “irrelevant” behavior in a non-specific way. Thus, Miller and his associates (1936) noted increases in sniffing and grooming in rats under “frustrating” conditions, and: In many aggressive or sexual situations passerine birds may wipe their beaks or preen their feathers, show drinking or feeding behavior, or engage in other activity which seems unrelated to the context (Hinde, 1966: 278).

Hinde (p. 278) adds, significantly, that: such activities were clearly not evolved for use in aggression or courting and their occurrence requires explanation in causal terms.

Stress-induced arousal therefore appears to be associated with hyperactivity involving a number of supposedly irrelevant drives. As one would expect, the correlations between arousal, eating, drinking and sexual activity are far from perfect, but this seemingly self-evident point assumes that these activities are separately identifiable. Profound difficulties beset attempts to classify behavior. First, there is the problem of how to classify “displacement activities” – those that, like nail-biting, do not fall easily into any particular superordinate category. Second, while we take for granted the existence of certain “primary” categories of behavior, it is not always easy to characterize the activity of an animal or human at any given moment, for example, as drinking, eating, or engaging in sexual behavior. These problems are examined in greater depth in subsequent chapters (Chapters 6, 11 and 17). Consider the difficulties raised by the equation of distinctively sexual behavior with hormonal maturation. It is assumed that the activity of gonadal hormones is of fundamental importance for sexual behavior, but young animals often show facets of sexual behavior when their gonads manifest little or no endocrine activity (Curie, 1960, cited in Hinde, 1966: 172; Mason, 1965; Lewis, 1965; Smith, 1969: 74). Infantile sexuality, as Hinde notes, is not peculiar to man. Many birds show incomplete courtship and nest-building behavior when a few weeks old, long before their gonads attain breeding condition. Similarly, Andrew (1956) has observed copulatory behavior in young chicks. Observations of this kind raise the question of whether this is genuinely “sexual” behavior. To ask this question is to assume the existence or validity of the category of sexual behavior. This assumption can be seriously challenged. Suffice to say, the problem of whether there is a unique class of activities that can be characterized as sexual behavior can be by-passed if the concept of a sexual drive is abandoned and such behavior is reinterpreted as an expression of “stimulation-seeking” involving the genitalia (see later chapters). Returning to the problem of the distinction between “nutritive” and “nonnutritive” sucking, the conditions eliciting non-nutritive sucking produce a variety of other activities, including a general state of hyperactivity. Some of the earliest

50


observations on hyperactivity in children following separation from their mothers during wartime were reported by Burlingham and A. Freud (1944). They noted the intensity and prolongation of thumb-sucking in these children, their “insatiable greed” for food; intense and frequent head-banging and general destructiveness; their tendency to form passionate temporary attachments to strangers and guestworkers; intense ambivalence toward people; their excessive preoccupation with the self; and auto-eroticism. The stress of separation from attachment figures clearly has multiple effects, of which increased eating, thumb-sucking and auto-eroticism can be singled out for comment. It is recalled that Bowlby distinguished between nutritive sucking (eating) and non-nutritive sucking (“nipple-grasping”), a category under which he included thumb-sucking, the sucking of comforters, and oral stimulation of the breast and genital area as seen in deprived monkeys. It is suggested that this mode of classification is invalid. Bowlby argues that auto-erotic sucking is a nipple-substitute for the deprived infant monkey, and he regards it as a form of attachment behavior. Conventionally, however, auto-erotic sucking is considered a form of masturbation, and masturbation is a common form of hyperactivity induced by increased arousal and a wide variety of alarming events. Bowlby’s argument for distinguishing between nutritional and non-nutritional sucking is based on the premise that alarm gives rise to non-nutritional sucking (nipplegrasping) whereas hunger gives rise to nutritional sucking. However, alarming events elicit not only attachment but also increased eating and sexual activity. Thus, supposedly irrelevant or unrelated drives are activated by the same conditions of fear or alarm. Second, Burlingham and Freud showed that masturbation and increased eating behavior occurred in children separated from their mothers. These facts consequently cast doubt on Bowlby’s thesis that 1) attachment behavior is a behavioral system essentially independent of other behavioral systems, and 2) that correlative behavior can be subsumed under the heading of attachment behavior. Third, sucking may not be the critical factor terminating distress, as Bowlby suggests. Wolff (1969) found that a comforter placed between the lips alone has a terminating effect (cited in Bowlby, 1969: 294). It could be argued that the exact position of the comforter was unimportant, because the child would know where it was and could hold on to it (by sucking) if needed. However, the comforter may have been effective because it provided a source of oral stimulation. It will be argued that general hyperactivity (including increased sexual activity, eating and affiliative behavior) manifested under conditions of arousal, represents increased “stimulationseeking”. Since the comforter had a terminating effect when it was not sucked but merely placed between the lips, the evolutionary theory of nipple-grasping loses some of its plausibility; the evidence is certainly open to alternative interpretations. The argument favored here is that the comforter placed between the lips had the effect of increasing the rate of sensory stimulation input and it was the stimulation rather than the comforter as such, which brought about the termination of crying. Turning now to the evidence relating to the quieting effects of rocking, it was noted earlier that rocking is more effective than either the mother’s voice or a


51

pacifier in quieting a child who is highly distressed, and Bowlby suggested that the preferred speed of 60 cycles per minute or above is similar to the normal walking pace of a mother. An alternative interpretation of this fact begins with the common observation that children and adults enjoy the thrill of roller coasters and swings in fairgrounds and of playing and jumping on trampolines. Ambrose’s experiments on rocking showed that it reduced the child’s heart rate when the rocking was done in a specially built crib. In other words, rocking affected heart rate independently of who or what did the rocking. The connection between the rocking effect and the mother’s walk may therefore be fortuitous. This possibility gains strength from the comment above – on the enjoyment of different kinds of bodily movement – and from observations on the behavior of autistic children. Wing (1966: 12–13) reported that hyperactivity is very common in autistic children, particularly between ages three and four, and that such children engage in many forms of self-stimulation such as rocking, head-banging, mouthing and handling of small objects. While those behaviors are not especially diagnostic of autism: great pleasure is taken in some movements, such as swinging, rocking, sliding, riding and spinning (Wing, 1966: 13).

But non-autistic children, distressed or otherwise, also enjoy swinging and rocking. If it is granted that all of these behaviors serve to increase sensory stimulation, then hyperactivity in childhood and infantile autism may reflect disturbances in the processing of sensory information resulting in chronic stimulation-seeking4 (Quay, 1965; Rimland, 1964; Prescott, 1967). In summary, there is nothing especially distinctive about rocking as a terminator of attachment behavior or distress; many other forms of bodily movement have the same effect, and these forms of movement have little to do with the walking pace of primate or human mothers. Consequently, the need for an alternative theory arises. I suggest that such a theory involves the notion of stimulation-seeking behavior. 4 The hypothesis of low arousal is opposite to that suggested here: namely, that stimulation-seeking is associated with high levels of arousal. There is some evidence to support the latter view. The EEG’s of autistic children show a low-voltage, irregular pattern without a dominant rhythm, suggesting a state of high arousal (Hutt et al., 1964). It is also reported that psychopaths react with higher heart rates in stressful situations than nonpsychopaths (Schachter and Latané, 1964; Valins, 1967). The laboratory procedures used in assessing “basal levels of arousal” require the subject to sit or lie quietly, often in a darkened room, for periods of up to an hour or more. Everyday observation reminds us that hyperactive people often have the ability to fall rapidly asleep when circumstances permit, whereas less hyperactive types do not usually have this ability. It is possible that the low levels of arousal reported for hyperactive or extraverted individuals reflect the fact that they have fallen asleep or “dozed off” during the testing session. The use of telemetric devices for monitoring physiological activity in ambulant subjects (Wolff, 1970) would provide a means of testing this concept. (In fact, subsequent research has shown that low arousal in juvenile delinquents – reduced heart rate in particular – is one of the most robust findings in the field of criminology (Raine 2002).

52


To summarize the key points of the last three chapters, it is agreed with Walters and Parke that the various emotional states associated with increased affiliation or attachment can be subsumed under the concept of increased physiological arousal; and that increased orienting and attending is a common underlying factor in the behaviors associated with affiliation, dependency and attachment – although, as Bowlby points out, it is not always appropriate to use these concepts synonymously. Two difficulties in Walters and Parke’s theory are, first, that the theory of conditioned emotional responses or habits does not satisfactorily explain the association reported by Schachter between increased “hunger” and affiliation. Second, they do not give sufficient emphasis to tactile contact in affiliative behavior, but rather overemphasize the role of visual receptors in the orienting response. The importance of physical contact led to a consideration of the theory of “protection from predators” suggested by Bowlby. On this theory, contact and proximity with a mother-figure are explained in terms of the protection they provide in the face of attacks from predators. Difficulties with this theory involve attempts to subsume the correlates of attachment behavior under the heading of attachment. Bowlby claims that increased oral (including oral-erotic) behavior shown by infant monkeys separated from their mothers is a substitute for the mother’s nipple, which under normal circumstances would be grasped by the infant as an additional means of holding on while mother escaped from a predator. The difficulty is that separated human and monkey infants overeat and engage in masturbatory activity and also show (at certain periods following the separation) many signs of hyperactivity. A more parsimonious explanation would be to regard all of these activities, including attachment behavior, as a means of achieving increased sensory stimulation following increases in arousal. It is argued in later chapters that such feedback serves to reduce the level of arousal. The following chapter presents a new theory of affiliation.

PART II Toward a Theory of Social Attachment


Chapter 6

Arousal and Stimulation-Seeking: Overview Introduction The recapitulate briefly the conclusions of Part I, Walters and Parke subsume anxiety under the concept of physiological arousal but neglect the issues of the causes of arousal and the physical (that is, motoric) aspects of affiliative behavior; and neither Bowlby nor Walters and Parke take into account the very wide range of behavior’s elicited by increased arousal, apart from affiliation. Part II attempts to address these issues by combining several current hypotheses and concepts drawn from the psychophysiological literature. Since the concept of stress is often invoked in discussions of arousal, Chapter 6 opens with a general discussion of stress in living systems. The concept of “stress” arose mainly from the work of Hans Selye (for example, 1950, 1956) and the concept has been used in a number of contradictory ways (Appley and Trumbull, 1967). The distinction is sometimes drawn between stressors (that is, input) and stress reactions (including bodily changes and motor behavior). The literature on stress can be classified in terms of (1) “stressors” (input), and (2) stress reactions (output), which include bodily changes and behavior. Stressors can be provisionally classified according to whether they are (a) physical (for example, heat, cold, injury, weightlessness), (b) psychological (for example, bereavement, hospitalization, sensory deprivation, insult), or (c) social (for example, economic disaster, geographical/social mobility, invasion, war). These distinctions are largely academic, since physical and social stressors have to be processed “psychologically” in order for them to be interpreted as “stressful”. Bodily stress reactions can take the form of (a) transient or prolonged physiological disturbances (for example, increased heart rate, high blood pressure, gastrointestinal disturbances), possibly associated with chronic anxiety or depression, and (b) subjective reactions (that is, sensations, feelings, emotions). Behavioral reactions may be either individual (for example, flight, affiliation, suicide) or collective (for example, riots, vandalism, social movements). The concept of stress defies easy definition. The utility of the term lies in drawing attention to a certain range of empirical and theoretical problems that center mainly on the more dramatic or extreme changes in the values of the variables defining any given system. Living systems, for instance, can be understood in terms of a set of variables whose values are normally kept within certain predefined limits (that is,


56

homeostatic or self-regulating systems). “Stress” is an area of study that focuses on the causes and dynamics of change in the values of the system variables. In this sense, “stress” is more or less synonymous with the study of system functioning. What this implies is that no special concepts or theories are required to explain the sorts of phenomena to which the term stress has been applied. The notion that physiological systems are self-regulating goes back at least to Claude Barnard and Walter Cannon. But are there psychosocial self-regulating systems? The theories of cognitive dissonance (Festinger, 1957) and balance (Heider, 1958) suggest that such models have been in existence for some time. Living systems tend to be conceptualized as relatively closed systems; that is, involving internal feedback mechanisms. However, physiological reactions to an external stimulus depend not only on its physical qualities but on how it is received or interpreted. Psychological yardsticks are built into physiological systems. Therefore, to understand physiological activity in relation to the environment, a “psychological” dimension in the inquiry is needed. This is, in fact, the starting point for the burgeoning science of psychophysiology. To elaborate, one of the distinctive features of human beings is that they are social organisms. They become attached to other people and grow frantic if these attachments are altered or destroyed by separation or loss. This implies that physiological functioning depends not only on the meaning of stimuli in general but on particular patterns of stimuli which, under certain circumstances, are more important in determining individual behavior than the purely physical aspects of the situation. Human behavior is thus largely organized with respect to social attachments, and understanding behavior requires combining physiological, psychological and social factors in terms of a single, unifying framework. The following set of postulates are proposed for consideration as a means of organizing these diverse elements: 1. 2.

3.

4.

5.

Individuals build cognitive maps (that is, conceptual schemata) of their physical and inter-personal environment. Cognitive maps are stratified in terms of psychological salience (for example, certain people, objects and places are psychologically more important than others), and embody a concept of the organism itself (that is, self-concept or identity) as well as external objects. Cognitive maps acquire self-maintaining properties; that is, individuals attempt to preserve and maintain their mental pictures both of “how the world is” and of themselves. The maintenance of a cognitive map is effected through and dependent on obtaining sensory feedback from the external sources of stimuli represented in the map (via matching” a cognitive map with the corresponding external input, for example, by maintaining close contact with attachment figures). When the appropriate sensory feedback is unobtainable, cognitive maps disintegrate (that is, with prolonged separation or lack of contact, mental

Arousal and Stimulation-Seeking: Overview

57

maps or pictures tend to “fade”, and even one’s self-concept or identity begins to erode). It is proposed that consistency in the social behavior of human beings (that is, the continuity of attachments and living arrangements) reflects a self-regulating system in which the “thing being kept in equilibrium” is a cognitive (or mental) map of the salient features of one’s physical and social environment. The question can now be asked: what sorts of events lead to negative-feedback mechanisms and what are the variables in the system? A wide variety of events, from changes in the parameters of simple stimuli (Berlyne, 1960; Sokolov, 1963) to complex social and political changes, can “disturb” individuals physiologically and psychologically. It is proposed that perceived incongruity (or “mismatch”) with the cognitive map is the common denominator underlying all such events. Continuing the earlier discussion, a provisional theoretical model is presented that uses an undifferentiated concept of arousal. Later, the concept of arousal is refined by distinguishing between the sympathetic and parasympathetic branches of the autonomic nervous system. It is proposed that incongruity in sensory input increases physiological arousal, and increases in the latter are associated with increases in stimulation-seeking behavior. Beyond a certain level of arousal, stimulation-seeking gives way to an opposite reaction termed stimulation-avoidance. Stimulationseeking is a negative-feedback mechanism designed to correct for incongruity (that is, restore congruity) and thereby return the level of arousal to some status quo ante. Affiliative behavior can be considered a form of stimulation-seeking, designed to match the individual’s cognitive map with the external stimulus object(s) of which it is a map; for example, when a small child finds its mother after a brief period of separation, intense arousal and frantic searching (that is, stimulation-seeking), the sight, sound, touch and smell of mother “matches” the child’s cognitive map of her characteristics and thereby serves to reduce the child’s level of arousal. The concepts of stimulation, incongruity, arousal and stimulation-seeking are discussed below. Stimulation The term stimulation refers both to sensations (vision, sound, touch, smell, and taste) and perceptions (that is, interpreted information obtained through the senses) and broadly encompasses the interactional commerce between organisms and their sensed physical and interpersonal environment. It may be helpful in understanding this concept to consider the way it has been used in developmental psychology. Schaffer and Emerson (1964), in a longitudinal study of 60 Scottish infants, distinguished three phases in the growth of attachments. First, an “asocial” phase in which the infant seeks stimulation from all aspects of its environment; second, a period of indiscriminate attachment behavior, in which proximity to any human being

58


is sought; and third, a stage in which specific attachments are formed with others who are “good stimulators”. They propose that the newborn infant seeks an optimal level of sensory stimulation from the environment but that the most important factor determining attachment choice is the amount of sensory stimulation provided by the caretaker (that is, his or her overall responsiveness to the child). These findings challenge the “secondary drive” theory of attachments (for example, Sears et al., 1957), which contends that attachments are formed to those who satisfy the child’s biological needs for food, warmth, and so on. In 39% of Schaffer and Emerson’s sample, the principal object of attachment was not the person mainly responsible for feeding and other care, but the person who provided the greatest amount of stimulation and attention. Specific attachments, it was claimed, serve to maintain an optimal level of sensory stimulation. This research illustrates both the concept of stimulation, as used here, and its application in a homeostatic or functional sense. Research shows that human beings, forced to endure a homogeneous, unchanging environment, seek new stimulation of almost any kind. In classical experiments on sensory deprivation (Bexton et al., 1954 Heron et al., 1956), college students were paid $20.00 a day to remain as long as they could in an environment that permitted very little stimulation. Subjects lay on a bed in a sound-proof cubicle and wore translucent goggles, cardboard cuffs and earmuffs to reduce sensory stimulation. After sleeping a while, many began to find the experience extremely unpleasant; some craved stimulation and engaged in a variety of simple activities to promote sensations. Many subjects reported hallucinatory experiences and only rarely could a subject continue the experiment for more than two or three days (Kubzansky, 1961). The importance of sensory stimulation for normal functioning has been demonstrated experimentally. Animals go to great lengths to obtain it, and the absence of certain forms of stimulation produces neurophysiological deficits. For instance, rats will endure pain in order to leave a highly familiar environment for a novel one (Nissen, 1930, 1954; Montgomery, 1953, 1954); and rats reared in darkness will work at pressing a bar in order to receive brief flashes of light (Roberts et al., 1958). Rhesus monkeys confined in a cage without windows persistently worked on a discrimination task in which the reward for a correct response was a brief opportunity to look through a small window at the outside world of the laboratory. This rewarding effect did not diminish with repeated trials (Butler, 1953; Butler and Harlow, 1954). When cats that had been reared in darkness under conditions of total sensory deprivation were allowed to press a bar for flashes of light, they continued to press until fatigue supervened, preferring the “light” reward to food (Arnott, 1965). As for evidence of neurophysiological deficit, Wiesel and Hubel (1963) found that unilateral visual deprivation in kittens (that is, covering the eyes) produced striking histological changes in the lateral geniculate body, along with alterations in single cell electrophysiological activity. Chow and associates (1957), reporting on three infant chimpanzees reared under varying conditions of light deprivation, found corresponding degrees of slowing of visual motor development in each animal. Histological examination of the retinas of the three infants revealed that retinal damage had resulted from the deprivation. Although these studies were


59

confined to the visual system, similar effects can occur in other sensory modalities (Prescott, 1967). Just as sensory deprivation is aversive and has profound effects on growth and development, sensory overload can also be aversive and hazardous (Janis, 1951; Riesen, 1961; Lindsley, 1961; Lader, 1971). Between the extremes of under- and over-stimulation, both of which constitute incongruity (Berlyne, 1960), there is believed to be an optimal level of stimulation. This is supported by studies in which animals administer intracranial stimulation to themselves on the performance of certain tasks. For example, Reynolds (1958) found that the rate of bar pressing by rats was related in an inverted U-shaped fashion to voltage magnitude: as the intensity of stimulation increased, the rate of bar pressing increased to a maximum and then decreased. Similarly, rats have been found to adjust their response rates so as to receive a more or less constant amount of electricity (Prescott, 1964). Overlaying the requirement for optimal amounts of stimulation are the qualitative patterns of stimuli that individuals learn to associate with particular features of their environment. Thus, when Schaffer and Emerson’s (1964) infants were forming attachments to other individuals – in what Piaget (1929) called the “period of conservation of objects” – they could be said to have acquired a rudimentary cognitive map. Over time, cognitive maps become increasingly differentiated and complex. Cognitive maps are built upon patterns of stimulation experienced in the history of particular individuals, and it is suggested that the preservation or maintenance of cognitive maps takes on the character of a “system goal” that is dependent upon the reception of appropriate (that is, matching) sensory feedback.1 Thus stimulation in the sense used here includes sensory input as well as perceptions (meanings or interpretations) of situations. It is suggested that the cognitive map is stratified according to the psychological salience of the stored information it contains (cf. Harvey and Schroder, 1963). Incoming stimuli are filtered or evaluated in terms of the cognitive map, and aspects of the social and physical environment are mapped in the brain in the form of memories, based on their salience for the individual. What is meant by salience? Consider the total environment of individuals as consisting of patterns of sensory stimulation. Thus, for a child, its mother provides large quantities of tactile, auditory, olfactory, visual and gustatory stimulation. Her characteristics are internalized as a salient part of the child’s cognitive map. Certain sociological concepts allude to this notion of salience. For example, the social groups that are most important for individuals are their “primary groups”, consisting of the nuclear family and, later on, the “family of procreation” and “reference groups”, the people whose attitudes and behavior are taken as standards for their own. Also salient are aspects of the environment such as one’s house or dwelling, as well as the physical structure and topographical features of the neighborhood.

1

An overall system of this kind has been developed schematically by MacKay (1956) and later by Miller et al. (1960).

60


Additional salient features of the cognitive map include beliefs and values that are widely shared throughout a society. That people are more influenced by those to whom they are closely attached than by strangers was demonstrated in a now classic study of voting behavior in Erie County, Ohio. Lazarsfeld and associates (1956) wanted to determine the effect of the presidential election campaign of 1940 on the election choices of voters. Results showed that the mass media served to reinforce people’s pre-existing voting intentions and were much less effective in changing voting intentions than were face-to-face groups. Individuals also tended to select from the media only those communications that were in harmony (“congruous”) with their own attitudes and beliefs. A further illustration of the notion of patterns of stimulation being stored in the cognitive map according to its psychological salience is provided a model of the relationship between individuals and their environment (Wallace, 1957). To explain the “temporary paralysis” of human activity following the total destruction of a community (caused, for instance, by an earthquake), Wallace developed a theory of individual identification with culture. His view is that the “disaster syndrome” arises when individuals believe that a part of their culture is ineffective or has been rendered inoperative. He says: “… The person reacts (unrealistically it may be) to this perception as if a beloved object were dead” (p. 24). Drawing on the analogy of a laboratory rat in a training maze, Wallace suggests that human beings construct and modify, over centuries, very complicated sets of mazes. Both rats and men learn the way in and through their mazes, and men reify the maze, that is, name and “externalize” it. The maze consists of the entire sociocultural, topographical and physical environment. The absence of the maze, or damage to it (for example, loss of home, family, friends), evokes anxiety. For adults, the “way” through the maze and the maze itself become an extension of the “original” maze (that is, mother), and it is associated with the same intensity of emotional feeling that the child attaches to his mother. The perception of the maze itself, or parts of it, and of the way as a reified abstraction, constantly remains in the individual a sort of conditioned satisfaction, which derives from both developmental associations and current reinforcements … When the individual has reified his way, he considers it a part of his maze (and hence shared with others).It becomes identified with the maze. This is what the phrase “identification with culture” therefore means (Wallace, 1957: 24ff.).

Individuals thus develop internal “models” of their total environment and have needs beyond those connected with what are thought to be basic biological functions, such as food and water. One such need is for “stimulation”. In the infant under six months of age, stimulation of almost any kind will suffice, but after this stage a more and more complex conceptual system is built upon from certain regularities in sensory stimulation. In time, only the patterning of stimulation associated with mother will satisfy the child when distressed. She not only provides the necessary amount of stimulation, but also, because of her unique characteristics of appearance, gesture, voice, movement and smell, represents a particular patterning of stimulation that


61

forms part of the child’s cognitive map of his environment. The meaning of inputs thus becomes increasingly important as the organism matures. It is postulated that individuals attempt to maintain their cognitive maps in equilibrium. To conclude, social attachments between individuals and between individuals and their environment are stratified in terms of particular patterns of sensory stimulation. As for “types” of stimulation, distinctions between tactile, sexual and cognitive stimulation are problematic. Very often, categorization depends on the meanings that individuals attach to events. For example, a kiss can be at the same time a form of sexual, tactile and cognitive (for example, “Kiss of Judas”) stimulation. Incongruity Human beings strive to maintain congruity. This means that incoming stimuli are first interpreted, appraised (Lazarus, 1966) or compared (MacKay, 1956; Miller et al., 1960) with the cognitive map, preexisting conceptual structure, or the established “pool” of stimulation (Helson, 1964). At some critical level of incongruity or discrepancy (Hunt, 1963), mechanisms are activated that reduce or eliminate the discrepancy and return the organism to the pre-existing level or patterning of input (that is, a state of congruity). Individuals strive not only to maintain a certain amount of input but certain patterns of input – input congruent with their cognitive maps; and the continuity and maintenance of cognitive maps is contingent on obtaining such input. Individuals attempt to maintain specific components of their cognitive maps (for example, roles, self-concepts) as well as their entire conceptual system (cf. Stagner and Karwoski, 1952; Heider, 1958; Festinger, 1957; Osgood et al., 1957; Lenski, 1954). The model is therefore consistent with previous theories postulating a need for “stable anchorages” (Sherif and Harvey, 1952) and for “perceiving organization in things” (Woodworth, 1948). It would be impossible to list in advance all of the events that could conceivably constitute incongruity for a given individual, as this depends on the unique set of experiences of each pereson. But a list of common “stressors” would be expected to include disturbances in human relationships of various kinds, such as bereavement, separation, abandonment, or rejection; and events that disturb human relationships indirectly, such as unemployment, imprisonment, isolation, examination failure, community disasters, and migration. Under the heading of incongruity, following Hunt (1963), we also include the concepts of dissonance (Festinger, 1957) as well as surprise, novelty, and uncertainty – named “collative variables” by (Berlyne, 1960) because their evaluation entails a comparison between stimulus input and previous experience, that is, the cognitive map. Incongruity must be perceived, though not all forms of incongruity need involve conscious awareness. The distinction made by Herbart (1816, cited in Hunt, 1963), between perception and apperception is useful here. Apperception represents a form of information-processing in which stimuli are compared with the cognitive map without conscious awareness. The greater the degree to which the individual


62

is aware of a particular stimulus change, the more likely defensive and other mediating, experiential processes, such as social and cultural norms, can be expected to influence the relationship between perception of the stimulus and subsequent behavior (Lazarus, 1966). Hunt (1963) speculates that incongruity could be measured in terms of information theory (for example, Attneave, 1959; Shannon and Weaver, 1949). Incongruity would refer to the difference between stored information and information to which the individual is currently being exposed. However, establishing meaningful probabilities to attach to different signals or brain states depends on prior knowledge of the total possible number of signals or brain states, and we do not have this knowledge (MacKay, 1969: 18). The total information content of the storage is also constantly in flux, as living organisms change throughout life (Hinde, 1966: 318). The degree of incongruity would also depend on the psychological salience of the stimulus for particular individuals. Despite these difficulties, the measurement of incongruity could be accomplished in practice by asking individuals to rate the degree of subjective discomfort, stress or distress associated with a number of different situations, and then to average the responses over individuals to create a measure of incongruity. Numerous measures of stress are now available in the literature (Gupta and Gupta, 2004; Kamarck et al., 2005; Stover and Berkowitz, 2005). Arousal As perceived incongruity increases, the level of physiological arousal also increases, along with increases in stimulation-seeking. A pioneer in the field of stress research, Hans Selye (1936, 1950, 1956, 1960) found that a noxious stimulus such as exposure to cold produces a specific bodily reaction (vasoconstriction), but also has a wide range of nonspecific biochemical effects. He regarded these changes, following Cannon (1932), as attempts by the body to cope with stress. These nonspecific effects have been observed not only with physical stressors, such as extreme variations in temperature, inflection, physical injuries and x-rays, but also with disturbances in social and interpersonal relations (Christian, 1959; Basowitz et al., 1955). Selye showed that nonspecific systematic reactions include the secretion of adrenocorticotrophic hormone (ACTH) and corticoids, and suggested that the resulting excess of these hormones served a useful defensive function. Under prolonged stress, however, excess hormonal activity could predispose the body to disease, such as peptic ulcers. This overall nonspecific reaction, termed the General Adaptation Syndrome (GAS), consists of three phases: 1. Alarm Phase During this phase, autonomic and biochemical changes take place such as increased adrenaline secretion, increased autonomic arousal, changes in blood sugar level, alkalinity and white corpuscle count, and the first signs of ulceration in the stomach and intestines. 2. Stage of Resistance If the organism is subjected for several days to the same degree of stress by the same stressors, these reactions tend to be suppressed,


63

indicating that the stage of resistance has occurred. 3. Stage of Exhaustion If the stress is sufficiently severe or prolonged, the final stage of exhaustion occurs, in which the symptoms of the alarm phase return. At this point, the reactions which in small degrees had an adaptive function now create an additional source of stress. The adrenal glands enlarge, and both degenerative changes in lymph tissue and further ulceration occurs until death supervenes. Selye provided a general model relating psychological and physical stressors to subsequently occurring physiological changes, and showed that multiple stressors have similar nonspecific physiological effects. But nonspecific effects also occur at a psychological and behavioral level. While Selye concentrated on biochemical responses to stress, others focused on the concept of arousal, a term that refers to the patterning and intensity of physiological activity. Historically, the concept of “arousal” implied a theoretical continuum ranging from coma and deep sleep to extreme emotions such as anger and fear (Hokanson, 1969: 125; Bindra, 1959; Duffy, 1962; Teichner, 1968). Arousal is manifested in several ways, for example, in changes in electrical rhythms of the brain, as measured by the electroencephalograph (EEG). A state of alert attention or vigilance (Head, 1926) – moderate arousal – is characterized by high frequency, desynchronized, low-amplitude waves (Lindsley, 1960) known as the EEG-arousal or alpha-blocking reaction. Increases in arousal are also characterized by autonomic changes such as increased skin conductance (Woodworth and Schlosberg, 1954; Duffy, 1962) and heart rate (Malmo, 1959), cutaneous vasoconstriction (Sokolov, 1963), increased respiration rate and papillary dilation (Hess and Polt, 1960, 1966), and by increases in muscle tension. The concept of arousal has been considered an indispensable working concept or organizing principle (Berlyne, 1967; Berkowitz, 1969; Mackworth, 1970). However, the various measures of arousal do not increase or decrease in a one-toone fashion with each other. Electrocortical, autonomic and behavioral aspects of arousal are different forms or systems of arousal. Although these systems usually occur together, they can be separated in many ways. For example, the drug atropine produces the (slow) theta waves characteristic of sleep, while the animal remains alert. Similarly, cortical desynchronization can be produced by stimulation of the midbrain reticular system in an animal with bilateral hypothalamic lesions, but such animals cannot be aroused behaviorally. In addition, the cortical EEG record shows a desynchronized (arousal) pattern during REM (rapid eye movement) sleep. A further difficulty with the generalized notion of arousal is that each individual has a characteristic autonomic response pattern (“autonomic response specificity”) (Lacey, 1950, 1956). However, the emphasis on individual response specificity obscures the more important phenomenon of situational response specificity. For example, Lacey (1967) found that heart rate deceleration occurs when a subject is attending to or “taking in” a particular stimulus, whereas heart rate acceleration occurs when a subject is “rejecting” certain stimuli. He suggests that these changes in heart rate are

64


connected with homeostatic reflexes through which rises in blood pressure inhibit motor and cortical activity, and possibly play a useful role when there is a “need to reject” certain stimuli. These objections to the concept of arousal are not incompatible with the notion of a “master” center for sympathetic nervous system (SNS) arousal in the hypothalamus (see Chapter 17, Section IV, and Chapter18; Gellhorn, 1967). Stimulation-Seeking First, incongruity is said to increase the level of arousal. The concept of incongruity refers to both very low and very high levels of sensory input, as well as qualitative aspects of sensory input, the latter of which become increasingly important as the individual matures. The concept of incongruity thus includes the notion of deviations from the expected pattern of input, based on the cognitive map. Second, increases in arousal lead to a curvilinear increase in stimulation-seeking. Beyond a certain level of arousal, stimulation-avoidance occurs. Stimulation-seeking behavior is defined as any activity that enhances or facilitates contact between the organism’s sensory receptors and external objects or surfaces (see Mawson, 1978b, 1987, 1999, 2005a, and Mawson et al., 1996 for further discussion). The suggestion is that stimulation-seeking is a tropism-like response – akin to the tendency of leafy plants to orient towards the light (phototropism) and for roots to bend towards the earth (geotropism) – in which organisms actively seek sensory stimulation through bodily movement and activity. This concept can be better appreciated if it is first related to more familiar concepts in psychology. Walters and Parke’s (1964b) basic postulate is that arousal leads to increased “orienting and attending”, a concept that was first used by Pavlov (1927) to describe the overall, nonspecific response to sudden change in stimulus input. The orienting response (OR) or “what-is-it?” reflex (Razran, 1961), has been extensively studied by Russian investigators (for example, Sokolov 1963; see also Lynn, 1966). The physiological criteria for the orienting response are, however, synonymous with those of moderate levels of arousal, which led Mackworth (1970) to speak of the OR as one aspect of arousal. Behaviorally, the OR includes sitting or standing up, looking around and pricking up the ears (Mackworth, 1970: 76). Sokolov (1963) suggests that a “defense reflex ” (or response) (DR) replaces the OR as the intensity of the stimulus rises. However, precise criteria for differentiating the OR from the DR have not been established. It is more likely that there is simply a continuum of sympathetic nervous system arousal – that is, a redistribution of blood from the viscera to the skeletal muscles, along with increases in heart rate and blood pressure, in preparation for vigorous motor activity (Hess, 1954; see Gastaut and Roger, 1960; Chapter 17, Section IV, and Chapter 18, Section III). As defined here, the concept of stimulation-seeking includes behaviors associated with both the orienting response and the defense reaction. To mention some historical antecedents to the concept, there is evidence that a wide range of stimuli activate


65

the brain-stem reticular formation (Hokanson, 1969). The vital role of the reticular formation in arousal states was discovered when Moruzzi and Magoun (1949) demonstrated that electrical stimulation of this structure produced an activation pattern on the cortical EEG record. A complementary finding (Lindsley et al., 1950) was that lesions in the reticular formation led to sleep and to EEG records indicative of sleep. It has also been shown that moderate electrical stimulation of the reticular formation is associated with improved performance on certain tasks, whereas more intense stimulation elicits a “defensive” response associated with fear or rage. Fuster (1958) trained rhesus moneys to discriminate between two geometrical forms by rewarding them with food. He then noted the percentage of correct responses and the time the animal took to respond under normal conditions and varying conditions of electrical stimulation of the reticular formation. He found that performance improved with moderate stimulation whereas intense stimulation led to a decline in efficiency on the task and to signs of alarm such as startle and vocalization (see also Lansing et al., 1959; Ogawa, 1963). How is the present notion of stimulationseeking connected with these observations? In the critique of Bowlby’s theory, evidence was presented that increased arousal is associated with hyperactivity of a general or nonspecific kind. Much experimental work relating to performance measures closely parallels the studies on hyperactivity. For instance, increases in “stress” are associated with an increased vigor of motor responding, reflected in increased tremors (Luria, 1932), elevated muscle potentials (Malmo et al., 1951), increased vigor of manual responses (Haner and Brown, 1955) and faster running speeds (Amsel and Ward, 1954). On the other hand, greater intensities of arousal lead to a steady deterioration in performance: behaviors become stereotyped and resistant to change, immobility (“freezing”) occurs, and performance declines (Hokanson, 1969; 121ff.; Hinde, 1966: 138ff.). Evidence that responses become more vigorous following moderate levels of stress led to earlier suggestions that there is only one general “drive” condition and that stress increases the general level of activity or drive in the organism (Hebb, 1955; Malmo, 1959; Duffy, 1962). In Chapter 5, studies were mentioned showing that increases in arousal are associated with hyperactivity, often involving a number of supposedly “irrelevant” drives. Here it is proposed that these general forms of hyperactivity constitute stimulation-seeking behavior; that is, all of the observed behaviors represent different manifestations of a fundamental tendency to increase the rate and quantity of sensory stimulation. Different investigators have concentrated on seemingly different aspects of behavior following increases in arousal. The concept of stimulation-seeking includes all those behaviors previously identified as forms of the orienting response, the defense response and hyperactivity. The central notion is that these responses collectively represent an attempt to increase the amount, rate and intensity of sensory stimulation. Beyond a certain level of (sympathetic) arousal and corresponding degree of incongruity, stimulation-seeking gives way to stimulation-avoidance; that is, organisms cease seeking stimulation and instead try to avoid or minimize it through

66


motor arrest and sleep. We shall gradually develop these ideas, bringing more phenomena within the categories of stimulation-seeking and stimulation-avoidance. The orienting response, then, is not the primitive response upon which all others are built, as Walters and Parke contend – at least, insofar as the orienting response is thought primarily to constitute visual search. Increases in arousal not only produce visual search but many forms of activity involving “irrelevant” drives and other behaviors that are difficult to classify under the so-called primary drives. Bowlby attempted to account for some of these phenomena in terms of the notion of attachment-seeking, but the data do not justify assimilating all of these behaviors under this rubric. Here it is suggested that the different manifestations of “hyperactivity” following increases in arousal are more usefully interpreted as attempts to increase sensory input; that is, as stimulation-seeking behaviors. Whereas both Walters and Parke and Bowlby assume a linear relation between arousal and the orienting response (Walters and Parke) or attachment behavior (Bowlby), there is evidence that, at very high levels of arousal, stimulation-seeking gives way to stimulation-avoidance (immobility or “freezing”). The concept of stimulation-seeking helps to explain the myriad behaviors following increases in arousal. First, if so-called primary drive behaviors are better understood as forms of stimulation-seeking, we are no longer faced with the problem of deciding which “primary” category to assign the “displacement activities” (Armstrong, 1950; Tinbergen, 1952). Consider the following example. Seiss (1965, cited in Eibl-Eibesfeldt, 1970: 179) studied “displacement activities” in nervous public speakers. Exposed before his audience, Seiss points out, the speaker feels isolated and “escape reactions” are activated which cannot be “discharged”. In extreme cases, “neurotic” behaviors such as sweating, trembling and restlessness appear. Displacement activity, he suggests, represents an alternative to such extreme behavior. Under this heading, he includes wiping, rubbing, scratching, biting, chewing and sucking on objects, spontaneous chewing movements, licking, and swallowing. Seiss also mentions a number of unclassified activities such as fondling the tie, rhythmic pushing of the button of a ball-point pen, and several others. These activities are difficult to classify as expressions of a particular primary drive. Moreover, the practice of simply naming “new” drives to account for activities that do not readily fall into the primary categories is contrived. Rather than continue to name new drives (for example, exploratory, competence, manipulatory, and so on) by postulating a new “scratching” drive to account for some of Seiss’s findings, it is more parsimonious to regard all of these activities as serving to increase sensory stimulation. The extent to which we are conditioned by the notion of separate drives is seen in the attempt to account for various forms of self-mutilation, such as violent thumbsucking, biting, tearing the skin, and head-banging, on the hypothesis of “aggression against the self” (for example, Burlingham and Freud, 1944; Spitz, 1953; Cain, 1961; Dickens, 1898, cited in Brownfield, 1965: 23; Harlow and Harlow, 1966). As mentioned previously, intense preoccupation with food and overeating occur in response to separation and loss (Burlingham and Freud, 1944: 60). Cases


67

of sudden obesity following psychological trauma (for example, the death of a mother, unwanted pregnancy, and the near-miss of a bomb explosion) have also been described (Shorvon and Richardson, 1949). There is a high degree of overlap between “oral aggressiveness”, such as violent thumb-sucking, eating, and other forms of “aggression against the self”, such as head-banging. Is nail-biting a form of aggressiveness or of eating behavior? To ask this question is to bring out the point that the assignment of many of these behaviors to particular drives is arbitrary. The independent existence of particular drives may well be a convenient fiction. Instead, the existence of stimulation-seeking is postulated as a general phenomenon that embraces all of the separate activities that have been described in response to incongruity and arousal.2 “Displacement activities” form a kind of residual category in psychology. They have been explained either by suggesting that they constitute new drives in themselves, or by attempting to subsume them under one or other of the existing categories of drive. Both of these attempts are unsatisfactory, and the concept of stimulation-seeking has been proposed as an alternative. Consider some further examples of nonspecific stimulation-seeking. Wang (1923) found that when female rats had reached puberty, increases in activity levels, as measured by wheel running, tended to correlate with the oestrus cycle. Richter (1922, 1927) discovered that increases in activity in rats tended to coincide with feeding times – a finding also reported in human infants (Irwin, 1932). Both food and water deprivation (that is, “hunger” and “thirst”) are associated with increases in arousal (Malmo and Belanger, 1967), which in turn is associated with increases in activity of a nonspecific kind, at least in the earlier stages of deprivation. For example, activity scores in rats increased over a 48-hour period of food deprivation (Finger, 1962; Hall, 1956). The rate of visual exploratory behavior in rhesus monkeys also increases as a function of time spent in a box without opportunities for visual stimulation (Butler, 1953). Isolation from sounds led to the monkeys to press a lever in the cage which allowed 15 seconds of noise from the monkey colony as feeding time approached (Butler, 1957b). Other studies show that hunger or thirst facilitates 2

One explanation of displacement activities is some variant of the “disinhibition hypothesis” (for example, Andrew, 1956; von Iersel et al., 1958). The basic idea is that socalled displacement activities (for example, preening, grooming or scratching) occur when two “tendencies”, such as aggression and flight, appear at the same time, and are mutually inhibitory, thus allowing the displacement activity, which would normally be suppressed by the predominance of one or other of the two conflicting tendencies, to appear instead. Fentress (1965, cited in Hinde, 1966: 284), on the basis of his work with voles, concluded that his findings could not be explained without modifying or supplementing the disinhibition hypothesis. More fundamentally, the hypothesis assumes that different activities represent “drives” – differential sources of “energy” in their own right – and that there is a sense in which they can “cancel each other out”. The energy model of motivation has been criticized by Hinde (1960). It is also difficult to understand how this theory could account for the appearance of several “irrelevant” drives at more or less the same time, as in the case of the foster home children studied by Burlingham and Freud (1944; see Chapter 11 for further discussion).

68


exploratory behavior: hungry rats tend to explore a complex maze more than satiated ones (Adlerstein and Fehrer, 1955). Reviewing research on the hypothesis of an “activity-drive” (that is, that activity is itself a special drive), Lore (1968) concluded there was little to be gained by assigning drive-like properties to behaviors included under the term “general activity”. Consistent with the suggestion that all of these behaviors represent stimulationseeking, exploration has been considered synonymous with activity (Hall, 1961), and the factors controlling “attention” (the OR) have much in common with those controlling exploration and investigative activity (Dember and Earl, 1957; Cofer, 1959). Many of the experiments cited thus far did not control for arousal level, but anxiety may have motivated Butler’s monkeys to move about in their testing boxes (Brown, 1961), and emotional arousal, produced by stimulus deprivation, may have accounted for the restlessness shown by subjects in sensory deprivation experiments (Berlyne, 1960). Stimulation-seeking involves more than “exploratory” or “stimulation-seeking” behavior as ordinarily understood, for example, as risk-taking or sensation-seeking (for example, Berlyne, 1960; Zuckerman, 1964). Included under this category are the so-called “primary” drives (hunger, thirst, sex) and many other behaviors usually classified as “irrelevant” or as “displacement” activity, such as rocking, and mild or severe self-mutilation (see for example, Spitz and Wolf, 1945; Burlingham and Freud, 1944; Levy, 1944; Nissen et al., 1951; Bowlby, 1951), as well as addictive behaviors such as tobacco use and alcohol consumption. We also include affiliative or attachment behavior and its variants such as gregariousness (Riesman, 1950) and “bunching”, such as occurs among troops in combat. This proposal may also account for Schachter’s (1959) finding on the association between hunger and affiliation – that subjects who had gone without food for 20 hours had a stronger preference for affiliation than those who had only been deprived of food for six hours or had just been fed. Hunger would be associated with increased arousal, and affiliation would be an expression of stimulation-seeking following the increased level of arousal. The same thesis would also account for Meerloo’s (1950: 80) observation that the “sexual urge” increases in moments of extreme danger and is a common experience behind the battle lines. He points out that the mythical god Pan was said to be able to arouse sexual excitement in his worshippers (p. 12). It is a common observation that small children hold their genitals when frightened. It is mistaken to view one kind of motor or motivational activity in isolation from others, and the concept of particular “drives” is fallacious. First of all, when one “type” of activity occurs, others also occur, although their presence tends to be ignored by the experiment. Indeed, there is evidence of considerable interaction among drives (Hinde, 1966). Second, it is difficult if not impossible to classify certain behaviors as expressions of one or other of the primary drives. Third, a residual category of so far unexplained “random”, “spontaneous”, or “irrelevant” activity remains, defying analysis in terms of special drives. It is important to note that there is no generally accepted classification scheme for behavior in psychobiology. The question of how to classify thumb-sucking, for instance, in terms of the familiar motivational


69

categories, shows the difficulty of identifying the particular motivational behaviors in practice. Falk (1961a,b) reported that rats drink inordinate amounts of water, sometimes as much as 100 cc. in three hours, in contrast to a normal daily intake of 25–30 cc., if water is available when they bar press for food pellets on a variable-interval schedule. Shortly after a pellet is earned a burst of drinking ensues, followed by a return to bar pressing until the next pellet is delivered. Falk also observed excessive drinking in rats when free pellets were presented on a variable-interval schedule, as in “magazine training”. There is an obvious analogy to be drawn here between this behavior and beer consumption in pubs on a weekend night. It is also noteworthy that smokers often feel the need to smoke when drinking and, when trying to give up smoking, find that moments of least resistance coincide with drinking and eating. In subsuming all of these behaviors under the concept of stimulation-seeking, the suggestion is that “eating”; “eating”, and “affiliating” are different manifestations of an underlying biological “search” for sensory stimulation – through oral and gustatory sensations and through contact and touch – that varies in intensity according to the level of (sympathetic) arousal; that the notion of their being separately “hardwired” is illusory; and that they overlap in time and place and share both common identifying features and similar causal factors. Research on the neural basis of motivation increasingly supports the concept of stimulation-seeking. While the search continues to identify so-called motivational “sites” in the brain, particularly in or near the hypothalamus (the site of alleged “feeding centers”), Valenstein et al. (1970) reviewed a number of these studies, including their own, and concluded that there is much less anatomical specificity within the hypothalamus than is commonly supposed. A widely accepted idea is that when the testing conditions provide the necessary “consummatory stimuli” (for example, water, food), drinking is elicited by electrically stimulating specific neural pathways underlying “thirst”, and eating is elicited by stimulating certain “hunger” circuits. The same logic applies to other motivational activities, such as aggression, flight, gnawing, nest building, hoarding, and so on. On the basis of their review of the literature on hypothalamic stimulation, however, the authors were struck by the considerable overlap in the anatomical sites yielding different behaviors; and it seemed likely that the behavior actually observed in many studies was “determined by the experimenter’s interest and the consequent limitation of the testing situation” (p. 17). If the opportunity was provided, the particular behavior elicited by hypothalamic stimulation was subject to change without any modification of the stimulus parameters. These changes in behavior were not restricted to oral behavior, such as eating, drinking and gnawing, since the same electrode placements and stimulus parameters also elicited preening, shuffling of food with the forepaws, digging, sexual behavior, and many other activities. Wise (1968) suggested that since a second kind of behavior could be elicited by increasing the intensity of electrical stimulation, different behaviors corresponded to different thresholds of stimulation intensity. This argument attempts to retain the notion of special neural circuits mediating particular drives, despite the anatomical

70


overlap, by introducing the concept of intensity thresholds. Valenstein et al. (1970) countered Wise’s hypothesis with two observations. First, in most cases where stimulation only elicited one behavior, even high-intensity stimulation did not elicit a new behavior if the initially preferred goal object was not removed. Second, when the preferred object was removed, a new behavior emerged gradually, whereas its immediate appearance would have been expected if the behavior were mediated by an independent neural substrate with a high threshold. The fact that several different behaviors can be elicited by stimulation at the same locus and intensity raises the question of whether specific motivational states are involved at all. With the exception of the anterior and ventromedial hypothalamic nuclei (see Chapter 18), the sites eliciting eating, drinking and gnawing coincide with sites eliciting only exploratory behavior. Indeed, it was impossible to distinguish the sites eliciting eating from those eliciting drinking or gnawing. These regions include the dorsal and posterolateral hypothalamic areas as well as several areas outside the hypothalamus, such as the thalamus and amygdala (ibid., 19). Valenstein et al. suggest that “hypothalamic stimulation does not create hunger, thirst or gnawing drives, but seems to create conditions which excite the neural substrate underlying well-established response patterns (fixed action patterns). Discharging this sensitized or excited substrate is reinforcing and it can provide the motivation to engage in instrumental behavior which is rewarded by the opportunity to make the response” (p. 29). But this suggestion only raises the further question of the criteria of “fixed action patterns”, which the authors do not define. This concept looks very much like the concepts of drive and instinct, except that it reflects the increasing interest of psychobiologists in the behavior of animals in relation to their natural environments rather than in the artificial conditions of the laboratory. In my view, it is more parsimonious to consider that all motivational and motor activities that involve increased “interactional commerce” with the environment represent stimulation-seeking behavior. This suggestion is supported by three observations reported by Valenstein and associates. First, when pellets which had been eaten during hypothalamic stimulation were ground to a powder, the rats would not eat the powder (p. 19). In this form the food provided little sensory stimulation for the animals; they could not “get their teeth into it”, as we might say. A similar interpretation can be given to the second observation, that animals reared from infancy on a liquid diet displayed stimulus-bound eating of the food pellets when mature but, if deprived of the pellets, would not eat the familiar liquid diet in response to stimulation. Third, animals displaying stimulus-bound drinking often continued to lap at the water tube even after the water had been removed. This suggests that stimulation derived from lapping the tube was a temporary substitute for the water itself. Finally, there is an observation that supports the stimulation-seeking hypothesis and simultaneously argues against the “fixed action pattern” viewpoint. Valenstein et al. found that rats carry objects in situations related to hoarding, nest building and retrieving the young, but they also carry objects that appear to have no biological purpose or adaptive function. For example, the “pack” or “trade” rat (Neotoma cinerea occidentalis) may leave behind an object it has been carrying in


71

favor of a more desirable shiny one (p. 29). From an evolutionary point of view such behavior (picking up the shiny object) would seem to draw the attention of predators to the rat and would be potentially maladaptive. Based on the stimulation-seeking hypothesis, the rat picked up the shiny object because it provided more sensory stimulation than the one it had dropped. The anatomical evidence not only tells against the hypothesis of specific motivational sites but also against the notion of fixed action patterns. Valenstein and associates’ research indicating the pluri-potentiality of specific neural sites supports the hypothesis and concept of stimulation-seeking. In reviewing the literature on affiliative behavior we were impressed by the wide range of behaviors elicited by the same conditions that elicit affiliation. One approach to understanding such facts is to suggest that motivational behavior is not differentiated into distinct behaviors or drives as we usually view them, each with specific causal mechanisms and unique defining characteristics. Instead, “affiliative” behavior as well as all of the other “behaviors” so far mentioned may be more usefully understood as having the common function of increasing the amount, rate and/or intensity of sensory stimulation. My contention is that stimulation-seeking is part of a negative feedback system that serves to restore “congruity” with the cognitive map and thereby reduce the level of arousal. Others have likewise suggested that stimulation-seeking and exploratory behavior have a “drive-reduction” value (Lana, 1960, 1962; Cofer and Appley, 1964: 300). This suggestion finds a close parallel in the frequently reported observation that activity in just about any form reduces fear, for example, among combat troops, in community disasters, and during air-raids (Haggard, 1943; Champion, 1950; Schachter, 1959; see Part III, below). The question of how stimulation-seeking reduces the level of arousal is discussed in Chapter 8, and a more detailed discussion of “affiliation” is provided in subsequent chapters.


Chapter 7

Cognitive Maps and Susceptibility to Influence Individuals build cognitive maps of their physical and psychosocial environment that are stratified in terms of psychological salience and acquire self-maintaining properties. Faced with an experience that deviates from the cognitive map (“incongruity”), arousal increases and leads to generalized stimulation-seeking, which is designed to obtain stimulation that matches the individual’s cognitive map. Perceived congruity in sensory input lowers the level of arousal. Affiliative behaviors, “primary drive” behaviors and “displacement activities” are reinterpreted as stimulation-seeking behaviors. The maintenance of a cognitive map depends on sensory feedback from the external sources of stimulation from which they derive. When such feedback is unobtainable the cognitive map is apt to disintegrate. This chapter reviews data relevant to this last point and discusses the relationship between arousal and susceptibility to social influence. Cognitive Maps The interaction between human beings and their interpersonal and physical environment has been described as a homeostatic system. Preserving the cognitive map through stimulation-seeking directed toward attachment figures ensures the continuity of human relationships. It is recalled that in their study of infant development, Schaffer and Emerson (1964) found that the infant initially seeks stimulation in an indiscriminate fashion.1 The child gradually acquires what we have described as a cognitive map of its environment, and only familiar patterns of stimuli evoke smiling responses in children (Ahrens, 1954). Schaffer and Emerson also found that the individuals to whom infants became most attached were those who were most “stimulating” in terms of providing tactile, visual, olfactory, auditory and oral stimulation. Given that the cognitive map depends for its maintenance on sensory stimulation that matches the stored information, perception and behavior can be markedly 1

Similarly, Hetzer and Tudor-Hart (1927, cited in Smith, 1969) found that babies at two months of age reacted indiscriminately to hand-clapping, kindly, angry and singing voices and a variety of other sounds. It is of interest that the first social responses of a human baby, the domestic chick, wild partridge and pheasant can be evoked by the same stimuli (Smith, 1969: 93).

74


disturbed by prolonged sensory deprivation. These effects (Kubzansky, 1961) include: … breakdown in visual-motor coordination, an increase in apparent movement phenomena, increases in color saturation, decline in size and shape constancies, loss of accuracy in tactual perception and spatial orientation, increase in persistence of autokinetic effect, larger figural after-effects, difficulty in focusing, fluctuating curvature of lines and surfaces, and a general decrease in the efficacy of perceiving relevant stimuli.

These effects are consistently reported despite wide differences in experimental conditions and have been described as reflecting a breakdown of internal norms; that is, a weakening of standards against which to evaluate perceptual experience (Kubzansky, 1961). It is recalled that subjects undergoing sensory deprivation reported feeling dazed and confused by the experience (Bexton et al., 1954). After prolonged immersion in a tank of water, subjects reported apprehension, fear and panic (Camberari, 1958; Lilly, 1956). Goldberger and Holt (1958) noted that some of their subjects felt dazed, disorganized, groggy, dizzy and emotionally unstable, with disturbances of body image and feelings of depersonalization after their period in isolation. Mendelson and Foley (1956) similarly found that a number of patients with poliomyelitis in tank-type respirators developed psychotic-like symptoms such as disorientation, confusion and delusions. Similar effects to those reported in sensory deprivation experiments are known from anecdotal knowledge to occur in aviators (Bennett, 1961), prisoners in solitary confinement (Burney, 1952; Meltzer, 1956), skin divers and lone voyagers (Brownfield, 1965; Ruff et al., 1961). Admiral Byrd (1938) described his experience of isolation for six months in a small hut buried under the snow in the Antarctic. His confinement was voluntary, in order “to taste peace and quiet and solitude long enough to find out how good they really are”. But after three months he felt “a tremendous need for stimuli and yearned for sounds, smells, voices and touch”. He began to lose his sense of identity and felt as if he were floating through timeless space like a disembodied spirit. This evidence strongly suggests that internal norms, evaluative schemata, or conceptual systems (that is, cognitive maps) depend for their maintenance on sensory feedback from the individual’s environment. This applies not only to visual norms but to those internal norms constituting the individual’s identity or self-concept. The maintenance (and disintegration) of cognitive maps occurs on many levels of organization, in ways hitherto treated separately. It follows from the above that if the individual can obtain the necessary feedback to his cognitive map in the face of threats of various kinds, his level of arousal will be controlled and the likelihood of cognitive disturbance will be minimized. Numerous case studies from the literature support this prediction. Writing about his experience in Nazi concentration camps, Bettelheim (1943) felt that his chances of survival were greatly enhanced by the fact that he self-consciously maintained his identity as a detached psychologist and observer. He notes that: “As conscientious objectors, all Jehovah’s witnesses were sent to the camps. They were even less affected by imprisonment and kept their integrity thanks to rigid religious beliefs” (Bettelheim,

Cognitive Maps and Susceptibility to Influence

75

1960: 115). Similarly, Nardini (1952), an army physician captured by the Japanese, was convinced that those who remained psychologically intact throughout the ordeal of the Bataan death march tenaciously maintained their identification with other men. Commenting on the reports of those who survived the experience of prolonged isolation, Burns and Kimura (1963: 168) describe how a conscious effort was made by each man to control his own thought processes, to structure his work day rigidly, and to draw into himself for added stimulation and interest. Dr Alain Bombard, who made a solo voyage across the Atlantic in a small dinghy, reported that freedom from regularity and from the need to perform certain tasks at specific times was detrimental to his well-being. A study of the group structure of submarine crews provides a further illustration (Scott, 1952, cited in Weybrew, 1967). The study showed that: “… the quality of a submarine crewman’s adjustment to the confinement, the stale air, and to the other stresses of prolonged submergence, was related to the degree of ‘role congruence’, defined … as the consistency of the man’s perceived role with respect to the role imposed by the Navy system.” While some have quickly succumbed to the stress of long-term isolation, many have survived, indicating that there are important individual differences in the ability to cope under these conditions. Robert Stroud, the “Birdman of Alcatraz” (Gaddis, 1958), who was in solitary confinement for 56 years, became a literate, active, productive expert on birds, experimental research, penology and criminology. He was urged towards intense study by the need to overcome the boredom and monotony that threatened to overcome him, and he was allowed all the material with which to accomplish this (Brownfield, 1965: 22). Burns and Kimura (1963: 169) comment: … the isolate, if he is to survive, typically adopts an introspective or internal resilience in order to cope with the terms of aloneness. In group situations, this evolves in the form of a well-defined role structure. In individual cases, like those of the shipwrecked mariner …, the man in solitary confinement …, or the isolated adventurer … the defense mechanisms take different forms. Typically, these persons acquire a deep-set conviction that they will master the experience; they become highly motivated and devote most of their working hours to acquiring new scientific or technical skills.

If the individual can, so to speak, carry salient aspects of his environment around with him, his level of arousal will be controlled in the face of environmental changes of an aversive or “incongruous” kind. Clinical and anecdotal examples of this point are first reviewed, followed by experimental data. Titmuss (1950) reports how children evacuated out of London and away from their families during the Blitz in 1940 were much more likely to be severely disturbed by the experience than those who remained with their families during the bombing. For young children, disruption of the family bond appeared to be the most traumatic factor in the period of heavy air raids (Glover, 1942). Glass (1954) found that of psychiatric battle casualties evacuated from battle zones and given intensive psychotherapy, only 15% could be returned to combat. If, on the other hand, such

76


men were maintained in the battle zone with their own units, the rate of return to combat was much higher. Other combat studies suggest that small units are very effective in sustaining members under severe battle stress (Mandelbaum, 1952; Janis, 1963). One of the earliest accounts of children’s reactions to an unfamiliar environment is that of Arsenian (1943). Her subjects consisted of 24 children aged 1 to 2½ years, 16 of whom were placed alone in a novel situation consisting of a room with toys. The remaining eight were accompanied by their mothers. Those exposed individually to the novel environment reacted by screaming, attempting to escape, and autistic gestures, whereas those with their mothers showed comparatively little emotional disturbance, which soon abated. Rheingold (1969, cited by C. Hutt, 1970: 154–155) studied the effects of a novel environment on the child alone, with his mother, and variants on these conditions, using toys and a stranger. Her subjects were infants approximately 10 months old. Results showed that solo exposure to a novel environment caused great distress and inhibited virtually all exploratory activity – effects that were not diminished by the presence of attractive toys or a stranger. In contrast, infants exposed to the novel environment in the presence of their mother showed no distress and explored freely. Also of interest was the finding that infants initially exposed to the situation alone continued to show distress and inhibition of exploratory activity even when their mothers were subsequently present, whereas those exposed initially with their mother to the strange situation showed no distress. As Hutt points out, “the fear of environment-novelty appears to have been so intense that it had a proactive effect on a potentially un-alarming situation. This fear was minimized by the presence of the mother or substitute” (p. 15). The presence of strangers in an otherwise stressful situation would be expected to increase the arousal response. Consistent with this hypothesis, it is recalled that Back and Bogdonoff (1964) found that small groups of strangers undergoing the stress of having samples of blood drawn had higher resultant free fatty acid levels than did comparable groups of friends undergoing the same experience. Also consistent with this hypothesis are the conclusions of Wittkower and Fried (1959) in their review of cross-cultural psychiatric studies: namely, that a society’s mental health problems increase according to the extent that traditional bonds between families and communities are disrupted. Yemenite and Bulgarian Jews who migrated to Israel as entire communities adapted well to their new environment, whereas Moroccans and members of other national groups entering Israel as single individuals suffered considerably more pathological reactions. The fact that stress can be coped with more successfully if family units and communities are not separated helps to explain why “panics” occur so infrequently in community disasters brought about by bombing, floods, fires, and other threatening events because the vast majority of individuals are not separated from “salient” aspects of their environment. As we would say, their cognitive maps received a strong supply of congruent feedback. Examples of this phenomenon are cited in the work of Smelser (1963: 166), Killian (1951) and Fritz and Marks (1954).


77

In his analysis of the social and psychological effects of tornado disasters in two Texas cities during 1953, Moore (1958) found more frequent symptoms of disturbance among persons forced to move because of serious damage to their homes that among those who were able to remain. Further literature on the greater incidence of various kinds of mental, physical and psychosomatic disorders among second-generation immigrants, “marginal” individuals and groups, and children of mixed (foreign and native-born) parents compared with controls is reviewed by Phillips (1968). Animal studies also suggest that the presence of familiar animals diminishes an animal’s disturbance in a stressful situation. Davitz and Mason (1955) showed that the presence of an “unafraid” rat reduced the symptoms of fear displayed by other rats in an open-field situation, and Mason (1960), having deliberately frightened young rhesus monkeys, found there was less disturbance when they were with a same-age peer than when an unfamiliar adult monkey or a rabbit was present. Conger and associates (1957) found that rats tested individually in a chronic approach-avoidance conflict situation had significantly greater resultant ulceration than animals tested together. Much of this evidence is reviewed by Bovard (1959).2 Liddell (1960) utilized the Pavlovian conditioned reflex method to study the chronic effects of thyroidectomy in sheep and goats. Stable conditioned reflexes were easily established. At the signal of a metronome or buzzer the animal flexed its foreleg, which was followed by a perfunctory, forced flexion to a mild electric shock. When the number of conditioned reflexes was tripled in one sheep within three days, the animal became diffusely and continually agitated. The pose of tense quiet gave way to persistent tic-like movements of the “trained” foreleg, constant head and earmovements, continual bleating, disturbed breathing, and rapid, irregular heart beat with frequent urination and defaecation. At times its hyperactivity approached panic, and these symptoms typically persisted throughout life, even though “rest periods” of up to three years were provided. Spitz’s observation on “hospitalism” in maternally-deprived children – a condition in which they become susceptible to a variety of infectious illnesses (Spitz and Wolf, 1945) – suggested to Liddell that the presence of the mother served to protect the newborn sheep and goats from “psychosocial stress”. To test this notion, sheep and goat mothers were selected which had produced twins of the same sex. One twin was subjected to the conditioning procedure in the presence of its mother, the other alone. The lights were dimmed for 10 seconds. A shock was administered to the foreleg of the lamb or kid. Twenty “darkness” signals were spaced two minutes apart, and each was followed by shock. The procedure was followed each day in 2 Bovard’s argument is that the presence of another animal of the same species (“social stimulus”) has a protective effect under stress, in that the social stimulus calls forth a competing or inhibitory response to the response elicited by the noxious (physical) stimulus. This argument does not take into account the fact that not all social stimuli (members of the same species) do in fact have an arousal reducing effect; indeed, the presence of an unfamiliar animal can increase the arousal response. Bovard takes no account of the relationship between the organism and “protective stimuli” – social or otherwise. Certain familliar physical stimuli, of course, such as “comforters” and teddy bears, can reduce the arousal response.

78


sessions lasting about one hour. It was found that the twin with its mother showed no restriction of locomotion during the tests. At the shock it would run and cuddle up beside the mother and then wander about exploring, even though she was lying down and seemingly paying no attention. However, the twin alone in the next room became immobilized. Liddell concluded that an animal with its mother was more immune to the “stress of monotonously occurring apprehension”. Of further interest, and in accordance with Spitz’s concept of hospitalism, was the observation that animals subjected to prolonged conditioning were particularly prone to infestation by parasites (Liddell, 1960: 63). Studies on the physiological correlates of Pavlovian conditioning procedures in dogs (Lynch, 1970) show that electric shock applied to the dog’s leg (“incongruity”) produced increases in heart rate (arousal) (referred to as the “unconditioned response”). When the dogs were shocked and petted, however, the usual increase in heart rate was significantly reduced, whereas the presence of a passive human being was less effective. The person who had been associated through conditioning with petting the dog could at times eliminate, without petting, the learned cardiac responses to a tone signaling shock. These data support our contention that the presence of, and especially physical contact with, familiar sources of stimulation inhibits the response to incongruity. Petting provided increased sensory stimulation which, according to the hypothesis of inhibition by sensory feedback, served to reduce the dog’s arousal level. As for the nature of the cognitive map, the lower the amount of information stored in the cognitive map (that is, the less differentiated the map), the greater the probability that mismatch will occur with incoming stimuli. Increases in arousal will thus be correspondingly more frequent for individuals with poorly developed cognitive maps. Such individuals would be expected to have a lower threshold for incongruity, to be more emotionally labile, more susceptible to social influence, and prone to engage more frequently and intensely in stimulation-seeking activity (see below). The hypothesis of lowered incongruity and arousal thresholds associated with poorly developed cognitive maps could account for the intense symptoms of distress shown by dogs and rhesus monkeys, raised in isolation from early infancy, on encountering novel stimuli (for example, Fuller and Clark, 1966a,b; Mason and Sponholz, 1963). Conversely, the greater the extent of differentiation of the cognitive map, the higher the expected incongruity and arousal threshold. This postulate could account for the finding that supplementary sensory stimulation in infancy reduces an animal’s later reactivity. Levine and Otis (1958), for example, found that rats handled before being weaned tended to be heavier and had a higher rate of survival compared to controls (Levine, 1962). Young rats given mild electric shocks from day 11 to day 12 also appeared less emotional than controls as adults (Denenberg and Smith, 1963; Denenberg, 1964). This hypothesis could also account for Schachter’s (1959) finding that first-born children tend to be more anxious and prone to affiliate when anxious than later-born children, the latter of whom would presumably encounter a wider range of stimuli in their early years, and consequently have a more elaborate overall cognitive map.


79

Susceptibility to Social Influence Consider now the effects of incongruity and arousal on susceptibility to social influence, that is, imitation, conformity, and suggestibility. Comprehensive reviews of these topics available (Flanders, 1968; Aronfreed, 1968; Cialdini and Goldstein, 2004). Incongruity is postulated to lead to increases in arousal, leading to curvilinear increases in imitativeness (conformity) and suggestibility. It is recalled that Walters and Parke’s theory of arousal and conditioned emotional habits of orienting and attending to others grew out of a critique of theories claiming that “dependency” or “affiliativeness” were discriminable learned “social drives”. On the latter view, the dependency motive, so-called, was regarded as analogous to hunger and other primary drives or motives. Thus, just as the withholding of food led to food-seeking behavior so, it was argued, the withholding of social contact led to various indices of affiliative behavior. The “social drive” theorists consequently began to experiment with subjects by isolating them, withholding approval, and so on, and observing subsequent behavior. Gewirtz and Baer (1958a,b), for example, in two influential experiments, found that 20 minutes of isolation produced greater modifications in children’s responses on a two-choice discrimination task than those who had not been isolated. In a second experiment, they again found learning to be more rapid among those who had been isolated. Gewirtz and Baer’s interpretation (1958b) of the results was that isolation activated a “social drive” that was capable of being channeled by social reinforcement in the same way that a “hunger drive” could be channeled by food reinforcement. Walters and Parke (1964b), however, suggested that the difference between the isolated and non-isolated children in responsiveness to social reinforcements was that isolation created a state of emotional arousal. This idea was tested (Walters and Ray, 1960) in a 2 x 2 factorial design involving both emotional arousal and isolation procedures. Results showed that the arousal state and not the isolation procedure itself was the crucial factor facilitating learning. In a later study, which partly replicated the earlier one, Walters and Parke (1964a) used finger-temperature as the arousal measure. Again, they found that those in whom emotional arousal had been created learned a discrimination task faster than any other group of subjects. Whether “isolation” creates emotional arousal, of course, depends on a number of factors including the age of the subject, the circumstances surrounding the isolation (the meaning it has for the subject), the length of time in isolation, and the nature of the isolation procedure itself (Walters and Parke, 1964b). However, a number of studies of perceptual isolation – a term often used synonymously with that of sensory deprivation – involving a degree of social isolation, have produced evidence of autonomic activity indicative of arousal (Davis, 1959; Mendelson et al., 1961). Zuckerman and his associates (1964) found that at least three hours was needed before any “stress” effects from perceptual isolation occurred in ordinary experimental subjects, and deprivation of two sense modalities (for example, silence and darkness) was more stressful than restriction in only one (for example, darkness with sound, or silence with light), as measured by galvanic skin response. Walters

80


and Parke (1964b) suggested that a common state of arousal underlies all of the conditions said to produce an increase in various indices of susceptibility of social influence (see also McNulty and Walters, 1962). Many sensory deprivation studies have shown increases in such behavior, though few controlled for level of arousal. Nevertheless, the results as a whole are fairly robust. Subjects in isolation tend more than controls to choose to listen to material they would ordinarily find tedious (Bexton et al., 1954), change their opinions on such matters as the existence of psychical phenomena (Scott et al., 1959), and are more likely to accept propaganda (Suedfield, reported by Vernon, 1963). Kubzansky (1961), reviewing these topics, notes that the “stimulus hunger and increased suggestibility which have been observed may make an individual more vulnerable to revealing information he might otherwise withhold …”. Walters and associates have shown that the relation between “isolation” and susceptibility to social influence is due to the increased level of arousal created by the isolation procedure. The question Walters and Parke do not ask, however, is what it is about the isolation procedure (and other “stressors”) that increases arousal. They have shown that arousal is a key factor in susceptibility to influence, but they are silent on the question of the causes of increased arousal. We have suggested that incongruity – between the individual’s perception of his situation and his cognitive map – is a convenient way of conceptualizing various stressors, particularly those that are unique for particular individuals, such as special phobias. This explanation requires an independent measure of incongruity. For the moment, we can only infer the presence of incongruity from signs of increased arousal. On the other hand, the notion of incongruity makes sense of the range of nonspecific behaviors following increased levels of arousal and suggests a wide variety of testable hypotheses (see subsequent chapters). Also consistent with Walters and Parke’s suggestion that a common state of arousal underlies many subjectively different emotional states, in association with increased susceptibility to social influence, Kimbrell and Blake (1958) reported that thirstier Observers (Os) tended to imitate a Model (M) who violated a prohibition not to drink more readily than non-thirsty Os, and angrier Os tended to imitate an aggressive M more readily than less angry Os (Berkowitz and Geen, 1966; Hartmann, 1966). The same applies to sexual arousal. Walters, Bowen and Parke (1964) exposed male unmarried undergraduates to a film, part of which depicted nude men and women in erotic poses, the rest depicting fully clothed individuals in typical advertisement poses (“neutral stimuli”). For some of the subjects, superimposed on the film was a moving spot of light – said to be a record of the eye movements of a previous subject – which roved over the genital and breast regions of the persons in the film. For other subjects, the moving spot concentrated on the neutral background of the film. Half the subjects in both groups heard the experimenter’s voice (it was a female) verbally approving them for following the moving spot of light. Galvanic skin responses of subjects were measured during the experiment. Results indicated that marked modeling effects were obtained to the sexually significant stimuli, the eye movements of the subjects in the “erotic spot” group moving with and paralleling


81

closely the movement of the spot. No modeling effects were found in the subjects watching the neutral stimuli. “The galvanic skin records suggested that the sexually significant stimuli had had an arousal effect, whereas this effect was largely absent in the case of the neutral stimuli” (Walters and Parke, 1964b). There is also evidence that anxiety is positively related to group pressure (Hoffman, 1957; Lawson and Stagner, 1957; Sherif and Harvey, 1952; Smith and Richards, 1967), although some contradictory results have been obtained (Janis, 1954; Holder, 1958). Evidence is also plentiful that low self-esteem – which is associated with anxiety (Schachter, 1959; Zimbardo and Formica, 1963) and hence arousal – is associated with increased persuasibility (Cohen 1959; Lesser and Abelson, 1959; Gelfand, 1962); and subjects low in self-esteem match the responses of others to a greater extent than subjects with high self-esteem (DeCharms and Rosenbaum, 1960), especially if the model is “competent” and setting high achievement standards (Rosenbaum et al., 1962). This last finding finds a parallel in studies showing that children show increased imitation of the more dominant parent (Hetherington, 1965); moreover, there is a greater tendency to imitate those who are older, more skillful and who possess high social status (Bandura and Walters, 1963; Harvey and Rutherford, 1960; Klinger, 1967). Increased conformity (imitation) associated with anxiety has been reported in combat situations (Freud, (1922; Janis, 1963), and in disasters (Bates et al., 1963). Schachter and Singer (1962), it is recalled, found increased imitation of models following artificially created increases in arousal. But the relationship between anxiety (arousal) and susceptibility to social influence is complex and not always monotonically related. The thesis advanced earlier was that the relationship is curvilinear, a view also held by McGuire (1968), who argues that an intermediate level of anxiety creates optimal conditions for social influence (that is, attitude change). In accordance with this hypothesis, Bandura and Rosenthal (1966) found an inverted-U relationship between physiological arousal and imitation, and Gergen and Bauer (1967) found a similar relationship between self-esteem and imitation/ conformity. In summary, susceptibility to social influence, like stimulation-seeking, tends to increase following increases in the level of arousal, the latter of which results from incongruity. In the next chapter we consider the mechanisms of attachment formation.


Chapter 8

Affiliation as Stimulation-Seeking: A Theory of Attachment Formation Birth as a Traumatic Experience This chapter presents a theory of the mechanisms of attachment formation, focusing mainly on the infant.1 It begins with the initial assumption that birth is a traumatic experience for infant and mother,2 involving a considerable degree of incongruity between the circumstances of birth and fetal experience. Hence, increases in arousal and stimulation-seeking would be expected to occur. Beintema (1968) has similarly postulated the concept of a “postnatal adaptation syndrome” in human infants. Consistent with this assumption, cold temperatures induce distress-calling in newly hatched chicks (Collias, 1952; Hess, 1959), and “fear” responses have been documented in chicks of all ages (Salzen, 1963). With regard to incongruity in the human infant, Hutt and his associates (Hutt, S. J., et al., 1969: 130) comment as follows: The fetus lives relatively passively, in an environment with a constant temperature, regular oxygen supply and nutrition. Since it is suspended in amniotic fluid it is not fully exposed to the force of gravity and sensory stimulation is elatively weak. When, however, the infant is born around the fortieth week of gestation, the conditions in which he lives change dramatically. With physical separation from the mother he is exposed to a climatically, physiologically and nutritionally novel environment … He now has to work for food, regulate his own body temperature in a climatically inconstant environment, and breathe in order to secure oxygen. He is fully exposed to gravity against which he must

1

The theory is similar to one developed by Salzen (1962) for explaining imprinting in avian species. Both theories are based on the notion of self-regulating cognitive maps. My own approach differs from Salzen’s in certain respects and elaborates on the mechanisms involved in the attachment process. The theory assumes that the mechanism of attachment formation is basically the same for all species capable of forming attachments, however rudimentary. Naturally, the operation of key variables will be affected by conditions peculiar to each species. The factual material presented is therefore not restricted to particular species. 2 Rank (1924) suggested that birth is a traumatic experience, involving separation from the mother, and that all subsequent separation anxiety is a manifestation of the original birth trauma, with a concomitant craving to return to the womb.

84

Mass Panic and Social Attachment achieve at least rudimentary postural adjustments. Moreover, he is exposed to a whole range of novel stimuli.3

Marked cardiovascular instability is characteristic of human neonates for at least the first six hours after birth (Vallbona et al., 1963). Discrete stimulation also evokes monophasic heart rate acceleration in human neonates, suggesting a “defense reaction” (Graham and Jackson, 1970: 78ff., for a review) – an effect that appears independent of behavioral state, movement, respiration, or method of measurement. The shift in heart rate response from acceleration to deceleration (the “orienting response”) occurs during the first few weeks or months of life. There is strong evidence for this developmental shift in heart rate,4 but the reasons remain unclear. Graham and Jackson (1970) consider several alternative explanations, including stimulation characteristics, behavioral state, and postnatal experience. With regard to stimulation characteristics, they suggest that intensity and rise time may be less important than particular sensory modalities in determining the newborn’s responses, since primary sensory areas of the human cortex mature at different rates during infancy; for example, until age six months, the somesthetic area is relatively advanced compared to the visual area, while the auditory area is least developed (Conel, 1952). Evidence suggests the behavioral state is important in determining the nature of the infant’s heart rate response. Hatton (1969) found significant developmental changes in response, even with state controlled, in that relatively greater deceleration occurred in older children in both waking and sleep states. Regarding postnatal experience, 3 Having quoted Hutt’s comment in support of our point here, it must be emphasized that Hutt and associates specifically eschew the concept of arousal or activation and are critical of general statements about the psychophysiology of the newborn. They argue that studies have not adequately controlled for the state of the infant, a state being defined as “any well-defined condition or property that can be recognized if it occurs again” (p. 163), and the implicit notion of an arousal continuum breaks down on close inspection. First, “systemic functions such as blood pressure do not show an … orderly progression with ascending steps on a scale from regular sleep to intense behavioral excitement” (p. 164). Second, the EEG record in paradoxical sleep (that is, REM sleep) is similar to the response shown in extreme alertness. Third, autonomic variables do not covary in regular progression. Fourth, “there is no regular progression in responsiveness from state to state” (p. 164), particularly with regard to the production of spinal reflexes, and consequently the authors “do not consider that the physiological evidence requires that these states be placed on a continuum. Rather, they may be better regarded as qualitatively different neurophysiological conditions with specific functional organization” (p. 164). The general concept of level of arousal, with its assumption of a 1:1 increase in autonomic functions, is indeed an oversimplification. As explained below, there are at least two divisions of the autonomic nervous system (sympathetic and parasympathetic), controlled by different groups of neurotransmitter systems in the brain. This more elaborate concept of arousal is developed in later chapters. 4 Research on dogs also suggests that the usual cardiac deceleratory response to petting is not present in the neonate. Gantt et al. (1966) were unable to observe a consistent brachycardia in puppies until eight weeks of age. The decelerative cardiac response to petting appears to develop somewhere between the third and fourth month of the puppy’s life.

Affiliation as Stimulation-Seeking: A Theory of Attachment Formation

85

the effects of environmental stimulation on the developmental shift in heart rate are likely to be confounded with the effects of maturation of higher nervous centers in the early months of life. Sameroff (1968) suggests that the newborn’s initial reaction to most novel stimuli is “defensive” and that stimuli must be “dissociated from negative consequences” before an orienting response can occur, most probably by a process of habituation. Sontag (1960) obtained suggestive evidence of learned habituation, reporting “progressive decreases in HR acceleration when a fetus received 625 vibratory stimuli distributed over a 9-week period before birth. Age controls did not show the decrease” (p. 107). Graham and Jackson (1970) conclude by favoring the view that the heart rate acceleratory response in early infancy is due to a generalized decrease in the novelty of sensory stimulation provided by experience. However, the finding that arousal thresholds are low for several weeks after birth is consistent with the suggestion that birth itself is a traumatizing experience involving considerable incongruity. However, Graham and Jackson’s suggestion that neonatal response sensitivity is governed by the level of development in particular sensory modalities is consistent with the second assumption in our model of the development of attachments, which is now presented. The second assumption is that the cognitive map of the neonate is relatively undifferentiated, consisting chiefly of stimulation intensity parameters. At this stage the neonate may have acquired expectancies only in respect of quantitative aspects of its environment such as pressure, temperature, and illumination (cf. Collias, 1952). Sensitivities involving different sensory modalities develop at different rates, presumably based in part on the establishment of a cognitive map appropriate to each modality. The perception of incongruity in any given sensory system would depend on the prior development of expectancies in input. Sensitivities to fluctuations in temperature or noise would be expected to develop prior to visual ones. Consistent with this suggestion, jungle-fowl chicks show “escape responses” to intense tactile and auditory stimuli immediately after hatching, while visual stimuli elicit escape responses much later (Hinde, 1966: 383). Similarly, auditory stimuli appear to be more important than visual ones in eliciting early responses to a mother duckling (Gottlieb, 1963), and sound plays an important part in inducing following (Gottlieb, 1965, cited in Hinde, 1966: 371). Conversely, animals artificially prevented from acquiring sensory experience of a particular kind would be expected to be insensitive in the appropriate sensory modality (cf. Salzen, 1963). A dramatic illustration of this is provided by the work of Melzack and Scott (1957), who reared dogs in conditions that prevented sensory experience. The dogs at first showed no avoidance responses at all, either to pin pricks or lighted matches, and learned to avoid such stimulation much more slowly than dogs reared under normal conditions. Given that birth (or hatching) involves major incongruity in sensory input and alterations in arousal, and the neonate’s cognitive map is rudimentary, consisting mainly of intensity parameters with respect to certain sensory modalities only, we would expect stimulation-seeking to be directed toward returning the organism to

86


environmental conditions consistent with the intensity expectancies of its cognitive map. In a similar vein, Salzen (1963) notes that “loss of established stimulus patterns – contact, warmth, tapping noises – leads to distress calling in the newly hatched chick, and actions which restore these patterns diminish distress calls or produce pleasure notes” (p. 211). Stimulation-seeking is nonspecific in at least two ways. First, all bodily surfaces, not only the traditional sense organs, participate in seeking stimulation through a heightened sensitivity of the peripheral receptors. For example, pupilary dilatation, increased conductivity of the skin, and piloerection, all function to increase sensory input. The increased sensitivity of the peripheral receptors facilitates the reception of stimulation. Secondly, with respect to the direction (or external sources) of stimulation, approach and contact with such sources depends on the degree of differentiation of the organism’s cognitive map. If the neonate’s cognitive map is limited to expectancies regarding stimulus intensity, no patterned visual or other sensory expectancies having been acquired,5 we would expect stimulation-seeking directed to qualitative external sources of stimulation to be relatively indiscriminate. Sources of stimulation need not, of course, be restricted to moving objects. Anything that provides stimulation will be sought, depending on availability. As noted earlier, many behaviors are elicited by the same stimuli that elicit following (that is, affiliation). To mention a further example, auditory stimuli enhance the initial approach behavior of young birds (Lorenz, 1935; Fabricius, 1951; Hinde, et al., 1956; Weidman, 1958), but tapping on the floor in the vicinity of three- to four-dayold chicks also increases (and correlates with) their rate of feeding (Tolman, 1967, cited in Smith, 1969: 26–27). Such nonspecific effects are not readily explicable on the theories examined earlier (Walters and Parke, Bowlby, and the disinhibition hypothesis) but they are explicable as expressions of stimulation-seeking. The stimulation-seeking hypothesis also explains the observation that nidifugous birds and monkeys approach conspicuous or moving objects immediately on hatching, or at birth (Hinde, 1966: 368–370; Salzen, 1967; Spaulding, 1873). Animals that are mobile at birth will approach the source of stimulation; others will orient themselves towards it using visual, auditory and possibly olfactory sense modalities. Newly hatched birds approach any intermittent stimulus, especially if it or its component parts are moving (Smith, 1969: 18). With domestic chicks, even a simple stimulus such as a flickering patch of light elicits approach (James, 1959; Smith, 1960). Under normal circumstances, the mother serves as a rich source of stimulation for all sensory modalities. In his review of studies of imprinting in avian species, Smith (1969: 31) writes:

5 Riesen (1958), working with chimpanzees, and Moltz and Stettner (1961), working with ducks, reared the animals in plastic hoods that only admitted diffuse light. When the hoods were removed the animals seemed unafraid of visual patterns that would have produced severe fright in normally-raised animals (cited in Bronson, 1968: 351).


87

Reflection … will indicate that the hen in natural circumstances is very nearly, if not the maximally effective perceptual combination for inducing approach. She embodies, with her swaying gait and pecking movements, motion in the sagittal and frontal parallel planes, contrary motions within the surface of her body with associated changes in color patterns, together with simultaneous sounds of maximum attractiveness. From a psychological point of view she embodies a high degree of perceptual redundancy, since any one of these features would be sufficient to initiate approach and following.

Thus, the mother animal provides a source of stimulation for various “stimulationhungry” sensory modalities in the aroused neonate, and “following” (that is, affiliation) introduces the neonate to the source.6 The Paradoxical Effects of Punishment Attachment (that is, bonding) to the source of stimulation, as opposed simply to affiliation, appears to be based on the further requirement of perceptual differentiation. We can consider attachment as the tendency of an organism to seek stimulation, when aroused, from a particular source. How are attachments formed? During development, a cognitive map of a given object (that is, source of stimulation) is gradually acquired, the period of time being relative to the species and many other factors. There is evidence that any strong emotional state, whether it be hunger, fear, pain or loneliness, has the effect of speeding up the process of attachment formation (for example, Elliot et al., 1960, 1961). Lynch (1970) makes this point in relation to the process of socialization in dogs, especially during the “sensitive” period between the third and twelfth week, but the effect is seen in a wide variety of other animals and in mature organisms as well as neonates. Unpleasant emotional states induced by unfamiliar surroundings or experiences can be relieved by returning the animal to familiar places and to contact with familiars. Some authors have suggested that since fear reduction associated with a return to familiar figures reinforces the animal for remaining in their presence, arousal reduction plays a crucial role in the formation of attachments (Moltz, 1963; Mason, 1964, 1967; Scott, 1967). That a successful search for congruous stimulation from external sources should reduce arousal is consistent with the present model, but there are grounds for doubting that arousal reduction is the basis of attachment. First, the formation of an attachment to a source of stimulation clearly involves learning the patterning of stimulation associated with the source; that is, learning to discriminate it from other sources of input (cf. Hinde, 1966: 350, 369). There is evidence that learning results from physiological changes in neural synapses, and these changes are induced by prolonged or repeated excitation, causing either a discharge of spike impulses or localized dendritic hypopolarization in the efferent neuron. Synaptic knobs from several afferent neurons usually converge on a particular 6

Matthews and Hemmings (1963) have suggested that following (remaining near a moving object) tends to increase the sensory input of young birds.

88


efferent neuron in the central nervous system. Mere contiguity between a stimulus event and a response is a necessary but not sufficient condition for learning to occur: excitation is also required for an association to be strengthened (Berlyne, 1967: 83). Thus arousal induction or increase rather than arousal reduction, may be the basis of learning (see also Germana, 1968). The subcortical structures involved in learning include the reticular formation, which sends facilitatory excitation to many regions of the cortex. Hebb (1955), among others, postulates that the reticular formation plays an important part in establishing learned associations. With increased arousal, the sensory receptors become highly sensitive to external stimuli; the aroused organism is thus “primed” to receive stimulation, and a perceptual image of the stimulus is readily “planted” into the cortex in the form of a cognitive map. Also consistent with this formulation is Lindsley’s (1961) point that low-voltage, fast EEG activity (indicative of arousal) is a sign of neural resynchronization, and suggests an increased capacity to process stimulation (cf. Pribram, 1967). In some way consistent with this elementary scheme, the cognitive map of the organism steadily develops, becoming increasingly more differentiated. In summary, attachment formation entails perceptual differentiation; the latter involves learning, and learning involves the excitation of neural synapses. Arousal induction rather than reduction therefore appears to be critical. A second reason for questioning the arousal reduction hypothesis is the paradoxical fact that organisms form attachments to consistently “punishing” sources of stimulation. In fact, punishing stimuli are more effective in eliciting and maintaining attachments than non-punishing stimuli. This suggests that Schneirla’s (1959, 1965) generalization – that organisms approach low intensity sources of stimulation but withdraw from those of high intensity – is too sweeping.7 Fisher (1955, cited in Scott, 1967) reared dogs in isolation, none of which was fed by hand. In one of his experimental groups, puppies were punished (that is, swatted with a rolled newspaper) for every attempt at approach or contact, and soon learned to stay away. When the punishment was discontinued, however, the puppies quickly began to make contact with the punishing experimenter and showed more interest in him than did control puppies that had been uniformly rewarded. Studies on monkeys (Harlow et al., 1963) reared by rejecting mothers similarly showed that 7 Schneirla’s theory is also unclear in several respects (Bateson, 1966: 207). First, it is not obvious that the most effective stimuli for imprinting should be qualitatively equivalent to those impinging on the embryo. Secondly, the theory does not explain how movements of the head and legs are coordinated so that recently hatched birds immediately shuffle towards the first illuminated object presented to them. Another difficulty with Schneirla’s theory is that very mild stimuli, such as a rustle of leaves or the appearance of a certain flag on the horizon – as well as sensory deprivation – can precipitate violent “withdrawal”. Conversely, withdrawal does not necessarily occur in the face of very intense stimulation. The intensity of stimulation is not the only or possibly even the main aspect of the organism’s response to it; the meaning and patterning of the stimulation is vital. Hence, the potential fruitfulness of the concept of incongruity in input, which is a joint function of input and expectancies based on previous experience.


89

attachments are formed in spite of punishment. Indeed, the infant monkey’s response to a rejecting or abusive mother is to redouble its efforts to contact her. Mason (1964) found that infant monkeys given aversive air-blasts by surrogate mothers clung even more determinedly to them. Moltz et al. (1959) worked with birds that had shown a strong following response to a green moving object, after having been kept in visual isolation. Birds receiving shocks inside the test run when the imprinting object was removed subsequently followed significantly better than those that had not been shocked or been shocked outside the test run. Pitz and Ross (1961) studied Vantress Broiler chicks from the age of 12 to 15 hours post-hatch in trials extending over five days. When a loud, auditory stimulus was presented in the first three days, the following response was significantly enhanced compared with controls. The authors concluded that the effect was due to a higher level of arousal. Kovach and Hess (1964) found that chicks at 14–18 hours post-hatching followed a moving object for a greater distance after being lightly shocked than those that did not receive the shock. Eleven shocks at 3mA were more effective than 27 1mA shocks, but chicks given 27 3mA shocks followed even less than the unshocked birds (cited in Bateson, 1966: 191). As the last experiment cited suggests, only certain levels of shock induce young birds to follow more strongly (Hess, 1957, 1959; Berlyne, 1960). Hess (1964) also found that administering electric shock to chicks during the “critical period” facilitates rather than inhibits following (see also Bateson, 1966: 190–191, 203– 204). Also germane to this point are numerous studies showing that withdrawal of love or nurturance, and punishment or rejection of children, is associated with increased dependency both concurrently and later in life (Zigler and Child, 1969, for a review). More easily reconciled with the arousal induction hypothesis is the casual observation that those who have experienced stressful conditions together tend to become closely attached. The phenomenon of periodic reunions among former soldiers reflects the intense attachments that are developed under the stress of combat. It might be objected that contrary to punishment facilitating attachments, punishing or aversive stimuli – almost by definition – cause withdrawal! The question is: how can “punishment” elicit both attachment and withdrawal? We know that individuals find risk-taking enjoyable and often seek out situations associated with fear or danger (Hebb, 1955; Hunt, 1963). Some authors have suggested that mild degrees of incongruity are attractive, whereas strong degrees of incongruity are avoided. Hunt (1963), for instance, proposed that motivation and the direction of behavior – whether approach or avoidance – are “inherent” in the organism’s interaction with its environment. Behavior is initiated by the degree of incongruity between sensory input and some standard or schema within the organism, and the latter is based on prior experience. At an “optimal degree of incongruity”, approach occurs, whereas deviation in either direction (too much or too little) results in “withdrawal” (meaning that incongruity would actually be sought as an escape from boredom, or flight would occur in the event of “too much” incongruity between input and internalized standards). Hunt’s model appears to provide a solution to the


90

paradox that punishing stimuli are both sought and avoided, but it is unsatisfactory for three reasons. First, the concept of “optimal incongruity” blurs a distinction that needs to be made between (a) the degree of incongruity in input, and (b) the degree of intensity of stimulation sought following incongruity. Second, on Hunt’s argument it is difficult to account for the fact, already documented above, that punishing or aversive stimuli play an important part in initiating and maintaining attachments. Whether punishment in this sense can be subsumed under the category of “optimal incongruity” depends on the definition of optimal, but we know from everyday experience that a child severely punished by its parents not only shows intense distress when it occurs but simultaneously tries to seek proximity with its parents. In summary, the Hebb–Hunt thesis does not allow for the fact that a child may find an experience extremely disagreeable yet still try hard to renew contact with the source of his punishment. This point leads to the third difficulty: the assumption that flight is a response that occurs at high levels of incongruity whereas approach occurs at low levels. What the previous example suggests is that high levels of incongruity (“punishment”) do not elicit flight, but rather approach or affiliation. The child does not flee from his parents but affiliates even more intensely. The argument that flight and approach are mutually exclusive, incompatible responses that occur at different degrees of incongruity – mild and severe – respectively, is seriously challenged in later sections of this chapter and in subsequent chapters. For these reasons, the hypothesis of optimum incongruity is unsatisfactory. To summarize, several difficulties have been noted in the theory that attachment formation is based on the reduction of fear deriving from the return of an organism to familiar surroundings, which reinforces the animal for remaining there subsequently. Attachment involves learning, and learning involves arousal induction rather than arousal reduction. Second, punishment both speeds up and serves to maintain attachments. Finally, the fact that punishment can elicit both attachment and (more familiarly to common sense) withdrawal, led us to consider the hypothesis of an optimum level of incongruity, was found unsatisfactory. We now propose a theory of attachment formation that takes these points into account. A Theory of Attachment Formation The cognitive map of the neonate is assumed to be relatively undifferentiated, consisting of expectancies with respect to such quantitative aspects of the environment as pressure, temperature and illumination. It is also assumed that birth (or hatching) is a traumatic experience involving – for the neonate – incongruity with respect to these standards. As a result, alterations in arousal would be anticipated, along with increase in stimulation seeking.8 Since the cognitive map is highly undifferentiated, no visual expectancies (patterns of visual stimulation) having been formed, we would Insel (1997) has proposed a neurobiological basis of social attachment, involving the closely related neuropeptides oxytocin and vasopressin. 8


91

expect stimulation-seeking to be relatively indiscriminate and that any “stimulating” object would be approached. But what degree of intensity of sensory input would be sought? The model proposed in Chapter 6 is that the intensity of stimulation-seeking increases with perceived incongruity. Stimulation-seeking is a compensatory mechanism that serves to match the degree of incongruity, returning the organism to a status quo ante. Beyond a certain level of incongruity, stimulation-seeking gives way to stimulation-avoidance (immobility). However, up to the point where immobility supervenes in the face of massive incongruity, the corresponding degree of intensity of stimulation-seeking can also be very great. This point may provide a solution to the paradoxical effects of punishment – both physical and psychological. The organism reacts to “punishing” (incongruous) stimuli by seeking additional stimuli which, although paralleling the intensity of the experienced degree of incongruity, have a calming function. In commonsense terms the self-initiated stimuli may be almost as “painful” as the initial stimuli, but the latter paradoxically neutralize the negative experience (for example, “pain”) caused by the initial stimuli. The fact that some forms of pain can be temporarily alleviated by additional intense stimuli is well known to folk medicine and has been applied therapeutically under the rubric of acupuncture (or electro-acupuncture) in anesthesia. Acupuncture is considered a form of sensory stimulation (Johansson, 1993). The physiological mechanism involved in pain-suppression and stimulation-seeking may be analogous to the phenomenon known as lateral inhibition, which involves both peripheral and central nervous system components.9 Lateral inhibition refers to a process whereby the nervous discharge following stimulation at one site on the body can be inhibited by stimulation arriving at a neighboring or even distant site. In early investigations of the phenomenon, Hartline (1949; Hartline et al., 1956) illuminated a single ommatidium of the lateral eye of the Long Crab (Limulus) and recorded the resultant impulse train from the corresponding fibre of the optic nerve. A few seconds later a nearby ommatidium was illuminated and it was found that the neural discharge from the first ommatidium decreased. When the order of stimulus presentation to the respective ommatidia was reversed, the inhibitory effect was reciprocal (cited in Hinde, 1966: 80). The impulse train resulting from an initial painful stimulus may thus be inhibited by stimulation arriving at a neighboring or even a distant site on a different sense modality. Low levels of vibrotactile stimulation (vibration) applied near the site of electric shockinduced pain inhibit the pain, while high levels facilitate it. Vibration both at the site of an itch and at the contralateral site also reduces its intensity (Melzack and Schecter, 1965; Sherick, 1964; von Békésy, 1962). The pain of dentistry and other surgical procedures is also inhibited by high levels of auditory noise stimulation (Licklider, 1959). Applying this notion to the formation of attachments and more generally to the concept of stimulation-seeking, I suggest that a principle analogous to lateral 9

I am indebted to the late Professor Donald M. MacKay for this suggestion.

92


inhibition (perhaps better described as reciprocal inhibition) is built into the functioning of living systems in such a way that individuals are actively aroused to seek sensory stimulation to inhibit the central effects of “incongruous” events or discrete stimuli. However, this principle (and/or the “search for stimulation”) would not necessarily be recognizable at the level of the reasons or motives which individuals may consciously entertain in any given situation. Perceived incongruity on the part of the neonate elicits alterations in arousal and heightened stimulation-seeking. The organism seeks out any source of stimulation within the parameters of established neuronal expectancies. The greater the degree of incongruity (up to a critical level), the more vigorous is the stimulation-seeking behavior. If further incongruity is artificially applied, for example, in the form of a loud noise, we would expect the following response (stimulation-seeking) to be enhanced accordingly, especially to any visual stimulus, since no object would at this stage be incongruous in terms of visual characteristics (cf. Pitz and Ross, 1961). In support of this point, Salzen (1962) reported that “fear of a moving object was shown only by birds that had had at least twenty-four hours experience of other chicks and hence a familiar moving object percept” (p. 199). In experiments where electric shock was given contiguously with or soon after the presentation of a visual stimulus, and the following response was enhanced, the neonate may not have associated the source of shock with the visual stimulus. While the animal would appear to be attracted to the source of shock, approach to the visual stimulus is interpreted here as a stimulation-seeking response enhanced by the additional incongruity generated by electric shock. Both Salzen (1962, 1967) and Bateson (1966) have pointed out that the stimuli most effective in eliciting avoidance in mature animals fall into the same general class as those most effective in eliciting filial (that is, approach) behavior before preferences have been restricted by imprinting. However, this does not necessarily mean that the neonate is attracted to incongruity while the adult animal is repelled by it. The perception of stimuli as incongruous depends on experience – more specifically, on the prior formation of cognitive maps. Hence, I propose that in cases where the following response to an object has been enhanced by contiguous electric shock, the animal perceived the shock as incongruous – a source of incongruity additional to birth (hatching) and the testing situation itself. But because the animal could not, at that stage, associate the source of shock with any visual stimulus, visual stimuli were approached for compensatory stimulation. The intensity of stimulation sought following incongruity can be such as to result in self-mutilation, as illustrated by the violent “punishment” which isolated animals inflict on themselves following disturbance or frustration, that is, incongruity. Harlow (1960) found that solitary monkeys became so attached to their diapers that when they were removed for cleaning the monkeys would often beat their heads on the cage walls. Head-banging is also a common expression of tantrums in children (Barker, 1971). Isolated infant monkeys develop habits of pinching or chewing particular areas of their body (Harlow and Harlow, 1962). Melzack (1965) described the behavior of beagles reared in a restricted environment. When brought


93

from their cages to the test room, the dogs showed what has been described here as a stimulation-avoidance response, that is, they tended to “freeze” or crouch at the wall or corner of the testing room thereby, according to the model, attempting to minimize sensory input.10 Once they became habituated to the situation they became hyperactive in a variety of ways, that is, stimulation-seeking. The animals would crash into various objects in the test room without showing any sign of pain. Some of the dogs repeatedly got their toe pads wedged into the cage floor grating but rarely squealed or struggled, even when the swollen or cut toes were squeezed out.11 The dogs’ general hyperactivity and the intense stimulation they derived from banging into objects in the room in the course of stimulation-seeking may have served to inhibit the neural activity associated with the incongruity of the situation. It is well-known that under conditions such as combat and natural disaster, severe wounds can be sustained that at the time do not cause pain. For example, American soldiers at the Anzio beachhead in World War II completely denied feeling pain from their extensive wounds (Beecher, 1959). The massive incongruity experienced by men under combat conditions would be expected to produce an intense stimulationseeking response that would inhibit the neural activity associated with the stress of combat. Thus, any intense stimulation received in the situation – including bodily wounds – would, paradoxically, not be perceived immediately as painful (see Chapter 11). Up to a certain level of incongruity, stimulation-seeking occurs as a compensatory mechanism; and since the level of incongruity can be very high before stimulation-seeking gives way to stimulation-avoidance (“freezing”), the 10 Salzen (1962) also reports that chicks reared in isolation for varying periods first give a “freezing” reaction when placed in a novel environment. On successive presentations, this responses gives way to “active fear” behaviors such as “flight”. 11 Melzack (1968: 73) suggests that the abnormal behavior exhibited by restricted dogs can be explained as a two-part process in which “(a) there is inadequate filtering of inputs on the basis of memories (phase sequences) of the significance of stimuli normally acquired in early experience, so that (b) the total input bombarding the central nervous system produces an excessive central nervous system arousal which, as Hebb (1955) has suggested, could be responsible for the correspondingly low cue properties necessary for discrimination and adaptive response.” In terms of the present scheme, an alternative explanation would be that input unrelated to previous experience (that is, cognitive maps) would simply not be processed by the individual in the first place; that is, perceptual discrimination in novel environments depends on the prior development of perceptual standards or expectancies. Consistent with this view, Melzack (1968: 71) comments that the dogs took little notice of “auditory stimuli such as lion roars or cock crows, which elicited a marked disruption in ongoing behavior in normal control dogs” (Melzack, 1965). The high level of arousal shown by the animals would therefore not be due to excessive input bombarding the central nervous system. In the testing situation, however, many features of the new environment would be incongruous with the dogs’ limited perceptual schemata, which would be expected to elicit arousal and indiscriminate stimulation-seeking. As for their abnormally hyperactive behavior in the restricting cages, Melzack notes that even at rest the dogs exhibited a high level of arousal. I suggest that the high overall level of arousal was due to the absence of stimulation (that is, sensory deprivation), a condition subsumed under the category of incongruity.

94


intensity of stimulation-seeking can also be very great, and include behaviors that would ordinarily be regarded as extremely painful, such as head-banging and selfmutilation. The Maintenance and Destruction of Attachments Normal birthing or hatching conditions, are “incongruous” for newborn animals and humans and result in increased arousal and stimulation-seeking. Any sensory stimulation is sought provided it falls within the parameters set by the fetal or hatchling cognitive map. Learning is enhanced by increases in arousal and the formation of attachments depends on learning. It is now suggested that the characteristics of the object sought by the stimulus-hungry neonate are learned; that is, a cognitive map of the stimulus characteristics of the object is formed that entails differentiating the stimulus object from other patterns of stimulation. The “following response” is classically regarded as the principal aspect of attachment behavior, but only in species that are mobile at birth. Learning can occur even though locomotory ability may be nonexistent. In fact, simply looking at an object when arousal is high may be sufficient for attachment to occur (Bateson, 1966: 205–206). Cognitive maps are probably established under moderate or high levels of arousal. Immediately or soon after birth the neonate begins to form cognitive maps of more and more complex aspects of its environment. An overall map, based initially on quantitative parameters, gradually gives way to one based, in addition, on the patterning or qualitative aspects of stimulus objects. New forms of incongruity experienced by the neonate increase the intensity of attachment to the object on which its cognitive map is based, and serves to enlarge the attributes of the map. This process can take two forms. First, incongruity confronts the neonate in the form of novel stimulus objects or “external” environmental change. Second, the stimulus object to which an attachment has been formed may itself behave incongruously. In both cases the principle remains the same: incongruity leads to arousal and increased stimulation-seeking behavior designed to achieve congruity. The organism seeks to preserve or maintain the integrity of its cognitive map. The experience of incongruity immediately at birth produces an indiscriminate stimulation-seeking response. However, further incongruity subsequent to the formation of a cognitive map of an external stimulus object now produces a stimulation-seeking response directed at the stimulus object itself. The preservation of the cognitive map depends on feedback from the object or source of which it is a map. Consequently, stimulation-seeking – including proximity-seeking or affiliation – is directed at the source. The greater the degree of incongruity, the more intense the level of stimulation-seeking that is directed at the attachment object. Bowlby (1969) has reviewed the evidence for man and other primates showing that the more intense the “activating conditions” for attachment, the greater is the intensity of attachment behavior. At mild levels, the child is content to keep the mother carefully in sight. At high levels, nothing short of fierce clinging will


95

satisfy the child’s craving for attachment. Bodily contact with the mother, for example, rocking, oral and auditory stimulation, provide the necessary feedback or “match” between the child’s cognitive map of his mother and the stimulus events or characteristics corresponding to the mothers’ person and her activities. Stimulation from the attachment object having been achieved (“congruity”), the level of arousal decreases. Ambrose (personal communication to Dr Bowlby, in Bowlby, 1969: 293–294) investigated the stimuli effective in calming distressed infants. His method consisted of observing one full-term baby, aged five days, per afternoon session, starting soon after the baby was fed or changed. The baby lay in his crib, which was placed on a device that functioned as a rocker and as a stabilimeter, and was observed for 30 minutes. Behavioral and physiological variables were recorded polygraphically. Findings showed that: every baby stopped crying when it received vestibular stimulation from the rocker. The movement was a vertical one with a traverse of three inches. Once the speed of 60 cycles a minute and above was reached there was a sharp decline in heart-rate, which during crying could reach 200 beats per minute and higher. Breathing became more regular and the baby became relaxed. Slipping an ordinary comforter into a baby’s mouth, Ambrose found, soon quietens a baby. Its efficacy, however, was not as great as that of rocking. This was shown by their respective effects on heart-rate: when a baby was rocked its heart-rate usually returned to near the resting level.

Schaffer (1966: 100) vividly describes the behavior of human infants faced with an incongruous stimulus object – a stranger – in the presence of its mother. He writes: It was repeatedly observed that, even when the stranger began to approach the infant, the latter would not immediately withdraw or cry at this point but would first several times look to and fro between the stranger and the mother – as though comparing one with the other. In four instances, the infant, after such initial comparison, visually fixated the mother and continued to stare at her despite the investigator’s attempt to attract the child’s attention – as though, one might interpret, to preserve the familiar and thereby avoid the unfamiliar object (italics added).

Incongruity can also be caused by the object of attachment itself. When this occurs, stimulation-seeking is directed at the attachment object. This is paradoxical, of course, on the traditional view that pain or punishment causes “withdrawal”. But punitive or rejecting mothers in fact create strong “bonds” of attachment towards them in their offspring (see Section II, above). The same principle explains why infants of so many species attempt to follow the mother (or other attachment object) when she shows signs of departing or moving away. The incongruity resulting from such behavior elicits a strong stimulation-seeking response in the infant; and its affiliative response represents an attempt to gain feedback from or congruity with the stimulus object represented in its cognitive map. These points suggest an explanation for Lynch’s (1970) observation that any strong emotional state can speed up the process of attachment formation. The emotional states resulting from incongruity

96


increase the frequency and amount of contact with the attachment object, which serves to capture indelibly the characteristics of the object in the neonate’s cognitive map. It has been noted that what may appear at first sight to be an escape or withdrawal response often turns out to be simultaneously an approach response to another stimulus. For instance, an infant retreating from a threatening stimulus runs to its mother. But the infant faced with incongruity on the part of its mother approaches the mother. It is widely assumed that a fundamental incompatibility exists between approach and withdrawal, and between rewarding and aversive stimuli (for example, Schneirla, 1959, 1965; Berlyne, 1967; Stein, 1969). Reward-approach is said to relate to low-intensity stimulation, aversiveness or withdrawal to high-intensity stimulation. On the contrary, responses that involve approach to certain objects or escape from other objects can be considered different ways of looking at the same phenomenon; that is, a homeostatic process designed to restore congruity between stimulus input and the cognitive map and thereby maintain a social relationship (“attachment”). Both approach and escape responses, insofar as they involve intense activity such as running, are reinterpreted as forms of stimulation-seeking. The laboratory study of “approach-avoidance” has been hampered by studying individuals in isolation and by neglecting the fact that animal and human behavior takes place in a biosocial context. The mistake has been to study the behavior of individual animals as if they were autonomous or asocial. In Part IV, approach and escape responses are shown to share the same basic neurophysiological mechanisms; likewise, it is argued that there are no separate “reward” and “aversion” centers in the brain, as is conventionally assumed. It is, however, important to distinguish between 1) approach and escape behaviors that involve intense bodily activity and are collectively reinterpreted as stimulation-seeking, and 2) immobility and crouching responses, described here as stimulation-avoidance behaviors, on the hypothesis that they are designed to minimize sensory input. It will be evident that these remarks bear directly on the study of mass panic, as will be explained in later chapters of the book. The proposed model of attachment formation in the young revolves around the paradoxical effects of pain and punishment. But how are attachments formed to stimulus objects that actually provoke fear? How do we account for the curious and tragic phenomenon, observed first-hand by Bettelheim (1943) in Dachau and Buchenwald between 1938 and 1939, in which some of the prisoners longest in captivity began to imitate and identify with the Nazi guards, even to the point of stealing bits of their uniforms and maltreating other prisoners? Bettleheim described the phenomenon as “identification with the aggressor”. His explanation was that individual prisoners believed that by behaving in this way they would make themselves indistinguishable from the aggressor, and punishment would cease. But this hypothesis fails to account for the wide range of situations in which this phenomenon occurs. Seeking dominant and even punishing individuals is common in humans and many animal species. For instance, virtually all mature animals in rhesus monkey colonies are attracted to the dominant, adult males, even outside the


97

breeding season. The dominant males initiate and direct movements of the entire group at all times of the year. Whenever the dominant male gets up and walks briskly away, giving a deep gruff call (“hu, hu, hu …”), the other members get up and move away with him (Altmann, 1962; Chance, 1955, cited in Mason, 1964). It is recalled that the integrity of the cognitive map depends on feedback from the original source of stimulation. If incongruity occurs and no opportunity is available for feedback, the cognitive map begins to disintegrate. This implies a decreasing ability for sensory discrimination. Thus, the very stimulus that initially appeared incongruous will no longer seem incongruous: the stimulus loses its significance or meaning as an incongruous stimulus. If it is further assumed that the level of arousal is kept high by the presence of other forms of incongruity (that is, sensory deprivation due to solitary confinement), then any strong stimulation will be sought and the originally incongruous source of stimulation may now be approached. This explanation can be applied to the concentration camp situation described by Bettelheim and to other types of “conversion” experiences (for example, Sargant, 1957) such as “brain-washing” and less dramatic forms of attitude change. The central proposition is that an individual’s cognitive map must be “broken down” before radical changes in attitudes or attachments can occur. The “mental slate” must in some sense be erased. This idea is also consistent with a program suggested by McHugh (1965) for producing attitude change in persistent criminals: namely, that de-socialization must precede re-socialization. Consider a hypothetical “brain-washing” situation. Insult and perhaps physical abuse from an interrogator (“incongruity”) creates a high level of arousal in the prisoner. Because he is kept in complete isolation and all personal effects are taken away from him, opportunities for external feedback to his cognitive map are eliminated. He creates his own internal feedback by thinking intensely of home and family, but gradually becomes self-preoccupied, like the children separated from their parents described by Burlingham and Freud (1944). As with subjects in prolonged sensory deprivation experiments and individuals undergoing longer periods of isolation, the prisoner’s cognitive map begins to break down. He becomes increasingly unsure of his own identity, his surroundings seem unreal, and he starts to imagine things. Bettelheim (1943) likewise describes how a psychotic-like dissociation between self-as-subject and self-as-object was common among inmates in Dachau and Buchenwald; the main problem for inmates was to maintain egointegration in a setting where they could find no ego identity. The solitary confinement in which the prisoner is placed between interrogation sessions is a severely restricted environment that deprives him of sensory stimulation and destabilizes him physiologically. With alterations in arousal and the gradual breakdown of “cognitive” aspects of his cognitive map (that is, attitudes, beliefs, attachments, self-concepts, and so on) comes an increased susceptibility to social influence and intense stimulation-seeking. The prisoner is no longer sure of his past behavior and integrity; he becomes childlike and dependent. Any human being is now sought as a source of stimulation. His increased suggestibility is reflected in a tendency to accept uncritically everything that is suggested to him. At the same time,


98

the interrogator’s role has changed. He is no longer regarded as a source of incongruity by the prisoner. The meaning of their relationship has changed because the prisoner no longer relates to his own background and political beliefs – a background in which, by definition, the interrogator was an enemy. Instead, the interrogator now provides the sensory feedback that the prisoner craves. Visual search or staring are gradually joined by more intense forms of stimulation-seeking directed at the interrogator, that is, affiliative behavior. The prisoner thus forms a cognitive map of the interrogator’s characteristics; that is, an attachment is formed. When this has been achieved, further abuse from the experimenter is incongruous for the prisoner. It therefore produces, just as in Harlow and Mason’s experiments with monkeys, a still more intense affiliative response. The prisoner tries in every way to please the interrogator. The prisoner will start to believe that “deep down” the interrogator is really kind and generous, even though he has never seen him behave in this way. A radical but possibly temporary change in beliefs and attachments has thus occurred which, from the interrogator’s point of view, will need to be supplemented from time to time by punitive measures against the prisoner. Punishment will be incongruous for the prisoner, of course, but it will serve to deepen and intensify his attachment to the new “cause” and attachment figure. Bettelheim (1960: 159) writes: Since old prisoners had accepted, or been forced to accept, a childlike dependency on the SS, [many wanted to believe that the SS] were just and kind. Therefore, strange as it may seem, they also had positive feelings towards the SS … They insisted that behind a rough exterior these officers hid feelings of justice and propriety. They were alleged to be genuinely interested in the prisoners and even trying, in a small way, to help them. Since not much of these assumed feelings became apparent, it was explained that they had to be well hidden or there would be no way for them to help. The eagerness of some prisoners to find reasons for such claims was sometimes pitiful. A whole legend was woven around the fact that of two SS inspecting a barrack, one had cleaned mud off his shoes before entering. He probably did it automatically, but it was interpreted as a rebuff to the other, and a clear demonstration of how he felt about the concentration camp.

Conclusion Previous theories of attachment formation have failed to account for the paradoxical effects of punishment, that is, the observation that punishment speeds up the formation of attachments and serves to maintain them as well as, more obviously, causing withdrawal. This difficulty arises from a neglect of the social context of animal and human behavior – the fact that animals and man have attachments to other species members and to certain aspects of their environment; and also from the assumption that approach and avoidance are mutually incompatible responses, that is, that reward produces approach while punishment produces withdrawal or escape. Instead, approach and avoidance can be considered two ways of looking at the same phenomenon. Both are stimulation-seeking responses designed to


99

correct for incongruity; and escape from incongruity is simultaneously approach to congruity. Escape and approach are two ways of looking at the same negativefeedback mechanism. This idea can be further clarified with an engineering analogy. The issue is analogous to corrections made by a central heating system for deviations in external temperature. When the external temperature falls below a certain level, the signal (incongruity) is registered by the system, the electric circuit is closed, and the boiler operates until there is a reduction in the difference between the measured or actual temperature and the required or set temperature (congruity). Does this negative feedback mechanism constitute an “approach” response to the required temperature or an “escape” response from the undesirable situation? To ask this question is to recognize that approach and escape are different sides of the same coin. In human beings – continuing the analogy with the thermostat – the required value is the patterning of stimulation stored in the cognitive map. Just as the thermostat is designed to maintain its required temperature, so the individual seeks to maintain the integrity of his or her cognitive map by obtaining a regular supply of congruent sensory feedback from the external stimulus objects represented in the cognitive map. Anything that threatens (is incongruous with) the cognitive map triggers a negative-feedback mechanism (stimulation-seeking), designed to match the cognitive map with the corresponding external stimulus objects or events. Initially, the cognitive map is rudimentary and stimulation-seeking is indiscriminate or nonspecific in the external objects that are approached. The objects sought when arousal is high are learned; they become part of the individual’s cognitive map. Further incongruity not only elicits a response designed to match the original quantitative parameters but also a response designed to match the qualitative expectancies of the map with the sources of stimulation of which they are a map. Thus, the stimulus objects represented in the cognitive map are approached: attachments are formed. In general, the more aroused the individual, the greater the intensity of stimulation-seeking behavior. Hence, objects that provide the greatest amount of stimulation are sought and their characteristics learned, and they become part of the individual’s cognitive map. But the stimulus objects themselves can behave incongruously in terms of the individual’s expectations of them. In such cases, the individual approaches the stimulus object in an attempt to seek congruity, that is, to preserve the former set of expectancies. Thus rejection, loss, punishment or departure on the part of the attachment object (that is, perceived incongruity) produces an immediate and intense stimulation-seeking response – at times so intense that the result is assault or even homicide (Mawson, 1980a, 1987). In the neonate, any noninjurious source of stimulation is sought and attachments are formed to objects providing the most stimulation within predefined parameters (cf. Schaffer and Emerson, 1964). Subsequent rejection or punishment serves to enhance the attachment, since it clashes with expectations and produces a response designed to match the model with original expectancies. Therefore, it is not that “punishment” is sought when the neonate approaches a rejecting mother; rather, the punishment constitutes incongruity with previous expectancies of the mother, and its approach

100


is an attempt to correct for this congruity – to match its concept of the mother with the mother itself. Adult human beings can likewise be attracted to apparently “punitive” persons. How can this be explained, given that people ordinarily avoid those who are rude, insulting or physically threatening? Cognitive maps depend for their maintenance on feedback, and prolonged absence of feedback leads to their disintegration. As the map disintegrates, stimulation-seeking becomes increasingly nonspecific in the external objects to which it is directed. The meaning or significance of input largely determines whether it is interpreted as congruous or incongruous for an individual. The breakdown of a cognitive map implies that the meaning of stimulation in this sense is lost. Consequently, the “punitive” stimulus object or person is no longer defined as punitive but as a strong source of (neutral) stimulation. Thus the aroused individual is attracted towards the person, a cognitive map is formed (that is, its characteristics are internalized) and the individual becomes “attached” (maintains proximity) to the stimulus. Further incongruity then leads to intense stimulationseeking responses directed toward the attachment figure. As mentioned above, this is an unstable relationship with a potentially lethal outcome (Mawson, 1980a, 1987). It has been argued that the greater degree of the incongruity, the greater the intensity of stimulation-seeking. In highly aroused individuals, intense stimulationseeking may lead to self-injury or injury to others. But the stimulus-seeking response itself appears to inhibit the neuronal activity arising from the incongruous stimulus, so that in many instances the bodily consequences of intense stimulus-seeking are not perceived as painful – a phenomenon that may be analogous to lateral inhibition in sensory systems. Possible neurophysiological mechanisms underlying the response to incongruity are discussed in Part IV, Chapter 18.

Chapter 9

Stimulation-Seeking and Group Dynamics Many of the points raised in previous chapters can be readily applied to everyday life situations and to broader social collectivities. Some of these applications are reviewed in this chapter. It is proposed that many aspects of groups can be understood in terms of the transient psychophysiological characteristics of the individuals comprising them; that is, the characteristics of individuals in states of incongruity and/or increased arousal are reflected in the nature of the groups to which they belong, or the types of groups that are formed under such conditions. Nonspecific Stimulation-Seeking Examples have already been of individuals reacting to incongruity by increased eating (Burlingham and Freud, 1944; Shorvon and Richardson, 1949) and sexual activity (cf. Meerloo, 1950). At the level of group behavior, the orgy is a neglected topic in the literature on collective behavior, but orgies of all kinds occurred during the great plagues in Europe, and they continue to occur during political crises and military invasions (Armstrong-Jones, 1917). The model suggests that when many “stimulus-hungry” individuals congregate under conditions of stress, the orgy is an occasional manifestation of ensuing collective behavior. Just as incongruity leads to increased attachment behavior on the part of individuals (Burlingham and Freud, 1954; Schachter, 1959; Bowlby, 1969), so “stressors” of various kinds lead to many signs of increased attachment behavior between individuals. Janis (1963: 227) writes: It has long been known that when people are exposed to external danger they show a remarkable increase in group solidarity. That is, they manifest increased motivation to retain affiliation with a face-to-face group and to avoid actions which deviate from its norms.

When collective situations of incongruity occur, groups are formed that reflect the character of the individuals comprising them. A state of heightened solidarity prevails, exemplified by increased mutual liking and “we-feeling”. These characteristics can be explained in terms of the transient attributes of individuals experiencing incongruity and high arousal. For example, in the area of research on “small groups”, Lanzetta (1955) studied groups consisting of four members who

102


worked under harsh, badgering treatment from an experimenter. Data were collected at three levels: group properties, interaction patterns, and individual characteristics. As “stress” increased, friction in the group decreased, as shown by a decline in the number of disagreements and arguments. Collaboration and cooperativeness increased, along with decreased “self-oriented” behavior. Self-confidence ratings, however, tended to decrease, possibly associated with increased anxiety (Lanzetta, 1955). Increased attachment and solidarity are reported in many group situations following incongruities of various kinds. For instance, increased camaraderie and “bunching” on the battlefield are observed in combat troops (Grinker and Spiegel, 1945a; Janis, 1963; Marshall, 1947); increased “bonding” occurs in spouses forced to leave their homes as a result of urban renewal programs (Fried, 1963); more familiarly, the same phenomenon occurs in entire populations when nations are at war (Durkheim, 1947) and among victims of natural disaster in the post-impact phase (Tyhurst, 1951; Moore, 1958: 313; Form and Nosow, 1958: 65–68). Similar observations have been made about the behavior of native American tribes threatened with cultural annihilation (Opler, 1940, 1967). The sociologist Emile Durkheim (1947: 102) describes these characteristics in terms of the concept of mechanical solidarity. He writes: Never do we feel the need of the company of our compatriots so greatly as when we are in a strange country; never does the believer feel so strongly attracted to his co-religionists as during periods of persecution. Of course, we always love thecompany of those who feel and think as we do; but it is with passion, and no longer solely with pleasure that we seek it immediately after discussions where our common beliefs have been greatly combated.

Stimulation-seeking following increases in arousal is general or nonspecific in the sense that all sensory input to the peripheral receptors serves to inhibit the nervous discharge resulting from incongruity. There is also a qualitative and subtle cognitive aspect of this. Individuals attempt to preserve their cognitive maps when faced with incongruity, and this is accomplished by seeking and obtaining sensory feedback from the original sources of stimuli. This aspect of stimulation-seeking is manifested in (a) attempts to preserve a cognitive map by re-emphasizing, idealizing or worshipping the external representation(s) of the cognitive map, and (b) an increased sensitivity to incongruous input. There is, in fact, a simultaneous rejection of incongruous input – a heightened sensitivity to threat – and an elaboration and fixation on the existing cognitive map. “Escaping” from incongruity is thus simultaneously an “approach” reaction, that is, approach to congruity. At the individual level, Berlyne (1960, 1967) has brought together many studies showing that when arousal increases due to situational stress, incongruous or unfamiliar sensory stimulation (novel, and so on) is simultaneously rejected. A study by Hayword (1962) exemplifies this. Subjects were asked to listen to an incomprehensible message on a tape recorder. Palmar sweat measures taken at the time showed evidence of increased arousal. When asked to choose between novel and familiar members of pairs of stimulus cards, subjects preferred the novel cards

Stimulation-Seeking and Group Dynamics

103

less than they had prior to the arousal manipulation. A non-aroused control group, however, preferred the novel cards. This study supports Berlyne’s thesis that, as arousal increases, exploratory or curiosity behavior (that is, stimulation-seeking) diminishes. However, Berlyne neglected the reverse aspect of this reaction: namely, the simultaneous increase in stimulation-seeking directed at the “familiar”. A related study by Byrne (1961) showed that persons high in “affiliation needs” tended to derogate a dissimilar stranger more than those with weaker affiliation needs. Similarly, in an experiment with college students, Walster (1965) found that subjects who had been made to feel concerned about being liked tended to show a greater preference for people similar to themselves, whereas those given assurances that they would be liked tended to choose dissimilar people. Commenting on this study, Berkowitz (1969: 91) noted that people tend not to seek out those who are different from them unless they are sure of themselves and of their acceptability to others. An atmosphere of fear also leads to increased estimates of maliciousness in other people (Murray, 1933). Many instances can be cited that illustrate these points at the group level. First, group behavior following incongruity can take the form of a revival of old folkways and practices. This is exemplified in so-called “revitalization movements”, also called millenarian or messianic movements (Wallace, 1956), which tend to arise during periods of cultural and/or social stress. Memories of past glories are rekindled, ritual is emphasized, and attempts are made to maintain the cognitive map shared by each individual, involving social norms, traditions, social practices, and other aspects of sociocultural identity. Examples include the “cargo cults” in Melanesia (Worsley, 1957), nativistic cults among the Southern Ute Indians in Colorado faced with threats to their culture (Opler, 1940), and cultural revivalism among JapaneseAmericans in relocation camps during World War II (Opler, 1967). Second, attempts to maintain cognitive maps in crisis situations are reflected in increased conformity to group norms among individuals in the group. Sumner (1940, cited in Turner, 1967: 61) makes this point about groups in his classical distinction between in-groups and out-groups: The relation of comradeship and peace in the we-group and that of hostility and war towards the other-group are correlative to each other … Loyalty to the group, sacrifice for it, hatred and contempt for outsiders, brotherhood within – all grow together, common products of the same situation.

Examples at the group level have been brought together by Turner (1967), using a different theoretical framework to that presented here.1 He notes that hostility 1 In his celebrated work, The Division of Labour in Society (1947: [1st ed., 1893]), Durkheim argued that “mechanical solidarity” – that is, solidarity based on similarities between individuals – would be replaced in the course of societal evolution by “organic solidarity” (that is, solidarity arising from complementary differences). Turner (1967) suggested that, on the contrary, “mechanical solidarity is a continuing requirement for the development and maintenance of organic solidarity. Organic solidarity cannot replace mechanical solidarity … instead, organic solidarity is a continuing requirement for the development and maintenance

104


and general intolerance of outsiders are often observed in the post-impact phase of disasters, along with increased solidarity among disaster victims (Bates et al., 1963) – “outsiders” being regarded as those who do not share the sentiments of “insiders” (Turner, 1967: 60). He also mentions the reign of terror phenomenon, which often follows successful revolutionary movements (Brinton, 1952), in which co-revolutionists who fail to demonstrate complete unanimity with the “cause”, and those against the revolution, are systematically eliminated, harassed, or hounded out of office. The “almost frenetic sense of fellowship among co-revolutionaries at this stage” has also been noted (p. 63). Similarly, in the early periods of postcolonial rule, nationalistic feeling is displayed not only in a “heightened attention to the criteria of the group” (p. 66), but also in a corresponding sensitivity to criticism from outsiders and deviation within. Breakdown of the Cognitive Map In the absence of feedback, the cognitive map begins to disintegrate and personal identity undergoes a crisis (“ego-boundaries” disintegrate). Stimulation-seeking then becomes relatively indiscriminate in that virtually any stimulus object is sought. This phenomenon closely parallels the description given by Schaffer and Emerson (1964) of the asocial phase of development in infancy, in which any individual or object will serve as a source of stimulation. It is also seen in a number of other situations. Burlingham and Freud (1944) noted the tendency of children separated from their mothers to form passionate temporary attachments to strangers and guest workers. Tyhurst (1951) emphasized that a crucial aspect of the “recoil” phase in natural disasters is that of dependency, which may be precipitated by any act of reassurance. There is also, at this time, a need to be with others and a disinclination to be left alone. Behavior among victims at this time resembles that of very young children during the phase of play in shifting groups. Adolescence is a period of increased physiological activity associated with maturation; it is also a period of relinquishment of one set of attachment objects of organic solidarity. Instead, organic solidarity requires, in addition to the division of labor, an effective substratum of mechanical solidarity” (p. 62). This proposition neglects two important points. First, the various manifestations of mechanical solidarity are paralleled by another set of related behaviors at a psychophysiological level. Second, the same conditions of threat or crisis (that is, incongruity) which bring about mechanical solidarity in groups also lead to many other phenomena which at first glance seem unrelated: namely increased forms of stimulation-seeking in addition to affiliation, such as eating, drinking and sexuality. In times of social crisis there is also an increased incidence of physical and psychosomatic illness (Schmale, 1958; Phillips, 1968). The point here is not that organic solidarity may or may not be replaced by mechanical solidarity, but that an exclusively sociological analysis of the conditions underlying mechanical solidarity fails to account for other, accompanying phenomena. Hence, more inclusive explanatory principles are required. The theory of incongruity, arousal and stimulation-seeking is proposed as a potentially useful candidate for handling this interdisciplinary set of related facts.


105

for another, often involving a temporary radical break with previous beliefs. For those experiencing additional forms of incongruity at this time (for example, migration, financial instability, separation, divorcing parents, or bereavement), the normal incongruity of adolescence is exacerbated and the reaction to incongruity is heightened. Adolescents are noted for their tendency to form cliques and groups (increased affiliativeness). Erikson (1950: 254) describes the intense in-group, outgroup feelings, the clannishness and intolerance of youth. He suggests that such intolerance may be a defense against identity diffusion (that is, a way of hanging on to or re-affirming a cognitive map). Adolescence is also a period of peculiarly romantic involvements, of hero worship and idolization of musicians and film stars, and a period of intense conformity and imitativeness. Another example is the phenomenon of love on the rebound. Reik (1944, cited in Berscheid and Walster, 1969: 43) argues feelings of self-dissatisfaction lead to an increased susceptibility to fall in love. Low self-esteem can be considered a reflection of a threatened or disintegrating cognitive map, and we would expect it to be associated with various manifestations of arousal, for example, anxiety (Schachter, 1959; Zimbardo and Formica, 1963), and with stimulation-seeking of a more or less indiscriminate kind, depending on the degree of disintegration of the cognitive map. Everyday observation suggests that romantic partners display the same syndrome (that is group of characteristics) shown by many other types of groups that have been formed in times of stress or crisis. There is, for example, the constant demonstration and affirmation of the partners’ relationship and solidarity, and a tendency to insist on a unity of sentiment, whereby any evidence that the partners do not think alike is a threat to the union (Turner, 1967). Romantic partners enjoy a precarious solidarity. Every real or imagined slight (incongruity) can trigger intense arousal, with subsequent soul-searching and recrimination. Dittes (1959), in an experiment with college students, found that approval from other people was especially rewarding for individuals with low self-esteem. Also consistent with this hypothesis, Walster (1965) hypothesized that individuals would like an affectionate individual more when their own self-esteem had been recently lowered than when it was momentarily raised (cited in Berscheid and Walster, 1969: 42). In a rather fiendish experiment, Walster arranged for her female subjects to be met, one at a time, outside the laboratory by a male confederate. For about 15 minutes before the experiment the confederate chatted to the girl, indicating that he was highly attracted to her, and arranged a date for a further meeting. On entering the laboratory the girl was given a number of personality tests and then handed a fake set of results which either gave her an extremely flattering or an extremely disparaging analysis (for example, “immature … weak personality, antisocial attitudes, lack of originality”, and so on). The girl was then asked to give her honest opinion of five individuals, including the male confederate. Girls whose self-esteem had been temporarily lowered were “more receptive” to the confederate’s affection than those whose self-esteem had been temporarily raised. The disparaging test results constituted incongruity, which raised the level of arousal in the subjects and threatened their cognitive map (self-concept). The

106


increased receptiveness of the girls to the affectionate confederate can be interpreted as a form of stimulation-seeking designed to reduce the incongruity, and subsequently the level of arousal, produced by the fake test results. Bereavement reactions can be interpreted in a similar way. Several authors have noted a period of sexual promiscuity intervening between “relinquishment of the lost object and orientation to a new one” (Bowlby, 1960b; 20–21; see also Lindemann, 1944; Waller, 1951; Eliot, 1955). The theory predicts that “promiscuous” individuals display higher rates of many other forms of stimulation-seeking, for example, eating, drinking, socializing, belonging to clubs, and higher rates of various forms of selfstimulation, ranging from substance abuse to suicide attempts. There may be a strong link here with Schachter’s (1959) findings on birth-order and affiliation. First-borns were typically more aroused by Schachter’s experimental procedures than laterborns, and anxious first-borns showed stronger affiliative desires than did equally anxious later-born children. We predict that first-borns would also tend to show the “stimulation-seeking syndrome” to a greater extent than later-borns. Among firstborns, one would expect to find more over-eating and drinking, increased sexual activity, more obesity, alcoholism, substance abuse and dependency, higher rates of mental, physical and psychosomatic disorders, and higher rates of suicide and violent offenses, including dangerous driving, compared to later-borns. To conclude, incongruity is associated with alterations in physiology, behavior, cognition and perception. If many individuals find themselves in the same incongruous situation, groups are formed with characteristics that reflect those of the individuals comprising them. The same sorts of phenomena occur in widely differing types of groups – romantic couples, nations in wartime, revolutionary and religious movements, people in disasters, and many others. Some general principles have been described that apply to individuals as well as the relations between individuals. Conclusions to Part II Affiliation, rather than being a separate drive with a distinct set of activating conditions or defining characteristics, is intimately related to a constellation of activities that serve to match the individual’s cognitive map with the external stimulus objects represented in it. These activities have been described as stimulationseeking behaviors that are analogous to tropisms (that is, directed movements of the body as a whole) in plants and animals. In general, the greater the incongruity (or “mismatch”), the greater is the intensity of stimulation-seeking. Beyond a certain level of incongruity, stimulation-avoidance occurs. At these moderately high levels of stimulation-seeking, various forms of bodily contact are sought. Affiliative behavior is thus a form of stimulation-seeking and reflects attempts by the individual to achieve sensory and/or cognitive feedback at various levels of incongruity. As a topic in social and developmental psychology, affiliation has been studied in relative isolation from other, supposedly unrelated motivational systems.


107

Stimulation-seeking behaviors form a continuum of intensity, ranging from activities such as nail-biting, eating, drinking, scratching, chewing, rubbing, smoking and rocking, at mild to moderate levels, to more vigorous forms including self-mutilation. In Chapter 11, “aggression” is similarly reinterpreted as a form of intense stimulation-seeking behavior. Selyé has shown that there are nonspecific reactions to incongruity (“stressors”) at a biochemical-hormonal level. There are also nonspecific reactions at a psychophysiological and behavioral level. First, the peripheral receptor organs display a lowered threshold for sensory input, which serves to increase the rate and amount of stimulation. Physiological reactions such as increased skin conductance through sweating, piloerection, and pupillary dilatation can all be viewed as serving to increase the rate and quantity of sensory stimulation. Second, stimulation-seeking is nonspecific in the sense that the so-called “primary drives” like hunger and thirst all serve to increase sensory input. The concept that hunger, thirst and sex are separate drives is deeply ingrained in our history and culture. Yet experiments and observations reviewed earlier indicate that when the conditions are met for the activation of “drive” behavior, it is not so much that nutrients or calories that are sought but oral stimulation derived from chewing and the tastes of substances; in sexual activity it may not be orgasm that is fundamental but rather genital and other forms of bodily stimulation. In short, consummatory activity of the primary drives involves, to a considerable extent, the stimulation of external bodily areas that are not restricted to those traditionally associated with particular drives. There is also evidence of considerable interaction between primary drives. The occurrence of activity associated with one “drive” is accompanied by the activities associated with other drives. Eating, drinking, and sexual activity tend to occur in close temporal contiguity or succession. This suggests that the conditions eliciting one form of drive are the same for other drives. In every case the conditions involve alterations in arousal. But these conditions are also associated with so-called displacement activities – a term deriving from the assumption of unitary drives – and they too involve increases in bodily stimulation. Some displacement activities involve surface areas associated with the primary drives, such as the mouth – as in nail-biting and thumb-sucking; but others, such as pulling the ear lobes and scratching, do not. The displacement activities are notoriously difficult to classify as expressions of one or other of the basic drives (cf. Bowlby’s interpretation of oral eroticism as a substitute for the mother’s nipple). The more that new drives are named to account for what are thought to be special classes of behavior, the more arbitrary the assignment of particular drives becomes. At the same time the assumption of separate drives becomes increasingly untenable. The same conditions that elicit primary drive behavior also elicit affiliative behavior, and the latter involves proximity and/or bodily contact with other species’ members, that is, sensory stimulation derived from contact. Affiliative behavior is an expression of stimulation-seeking which occurs at varying intensities as arousal increases.

108


This discussion points to the need for reconceptualization in physiological psychology. Increased levels of arousal are associated with generalized or nonspecific increases in sensory stimulation that are not restricted to any area associated with the activity of particular primary drives. This fundamental fact, encapsulated in the concept of stimulation-seeking, suggests that previously unrelated concepts refer to what is basically the same phenomenon sharing the same underlying causal principles. Thus, manic or hyperactive behavior, exploratory behavior, the orienting response, visual search, hyper-vigilance, and so on, can all be grouped on a continuum of stimulation-seeking activity. Increased levels of arousal are elicited by a wide variety of external and internal, conditions, some of which are usually thought of as “stressful”. Increases in arousal, when due to external conditions, are due to the perception of incongruity on the part of the individual between external stimulus events and internalized standards or norms (the cognitive map). The concept of incongruity is a provisional attempt to answer the question: what is it about the very wide range of external events that leads to increases in arousal? Since increases in arousal probably occur in virtually all multi-cellular organisms, the sensing mechanism must be very simple yet capable of developing highly complex discriminatory powers. The notion of incongruity between external events and a cognitive map fulfills this requirement. A central fact about human behavior is that it is social: individuals form attachments to other individuals and to various features of their environment, as well as to ideas or beliefs. In mature individuals, affiliative behavior tends to be directed at those to whom attachments have been formed. On the other hand, affiliative behavior can be relatively indiscriminate under certain conditions, as in promiscuity, “love on the rebound” and, in general, where the individual’s cognitive map is disintegrating, disorganized, or simply undeveloped, as in the asocial phase of infancy. In Chapter 8, a model was proposed on the nature of attachments and the process of attachment formation. It was suggested that attachment is based on perceptual differentiation, and the latter depends on learning. Thus, attachment formation is a type of learning. Any strong emotional state can speed up attachment formation. Some authors have suggested that the reduction of arousal is key to the phenomenon of attachment. This theory is contradicted by the fact that learning involves increases in arousal rather than arousal reduction; and second, by the fact that organisms form attachments to “punishing” stimulus objects. Indeed, punishment increases arousal and speeds up the formation of attachments. A key question, then, is: How does punishment both speed up and enhance attachment processes while at the same time – more familiarly to common sense – causing “withdrawal”? The solution to this apparent paradox involves the recognition that approach and withdrawal are not necessarily incompatible responses. When looked at from a broader perspective, withdrawal from one stimulus is often associated with approach to another stimulus. It is postulated that organisms build cognitive maps of their environment, and especially certain stimulus objects (usually, other organisms of the same species). These maps acquire self-maintaining properties, and maintenance is achieved by


109

obtaining sensory feedback from the objects represented in the map. Consequently, if the stimulus objects behave “punitively” (that is, incongruously), attachment behavior (stimulation-seeking) is directed at those objects in an attempt to seek congruity, to re-affirm or “match” the cognitive map with its corresponding external representation. This explains the apparent paradox that an organism’s attachment to an object is increased by punishment. The greater the incongruity (up to a certain point), the greater the intensity of stimulation-seeking, that is, the greater the intensity of stimulation needed to inhibit the neuronal activity associated with the initial incongruity. The basis of this principle may be analogous to the phenomenon of lateral inhibition in sensory systems (see Chapter 11 for further discussion). In Chapter 9, some observations were discussed on the relationship between the characteristics of individuals experiencing incongruity and those of the social groups formed under the same conditions. It was suggested many features of group behavior under stress can be explained in terms of psychophysiological processes. The same features are seen in many different kinds of groups, including romantic couples, spouses forced to leave their homes, communities in disaster, troops in combat, revolutionary movements, and nations in wartime. These points are further illustrated and developed in the discussion of group panic in Part III.


PART III Panic


Chapter 10

Panic as Stimulation-Seeking Introduction The term “panic” has been applied to a wide range of phenomena. Meerloo (1950) includes under this heading such diverse phenomena as lynch mobs, suicide epidemics, social unrest, war, mental illness, orgies and group tensions. Also included under the heading of “panicky phenomena” are bank runs, stock-market crashes and economic depressions (Quarantelli, 1954: fn. 4); not only “fear and flight, but also fury, riot, and untamed aggression” (Meerloo, 1950: 11). Meerloo’s list continues with a variety of individual and “collective” emotions such as “blue funk”, “startle reaction”, “immobility”, “sham death”, “freezing”, “terror”, and several others. A more restrictive definition is adopted by sociological authors. Smelser (1963), for example, defines panic as “flight based on a hysterical belief” (see also Quarantelli, 1954; Schultz, 1964a). Two general categories of behavior stand out consistently in the literature. These are: wild running, such as occurs in flight, and immobility reactions. The problem we are undertaking to resolve is to incorporate these categories of behavior within a single overall explanatory scheme. I propose that the distinction between “panic” and other forms of highly emotional behavior is arbitrary. The term panic has negatively evaluative overtones, suggesting “weak” or “cowardly” behavior. But panic is often indistinguishable from rage, which can be expressed in “pathological bravery” on the battlefield and elsewhere. In everyday speech, people are sometimes described as “lashing out blindly in panic” as well as “fleeing in panic”. Panic, in short, can be an expression of both rage and fear. A theoretical synthesis of panic behavior must consequently attempt to understand “fight” as well as “flight”. My suggestion is that the two main classes of behavior associated with panic – wild running and immobility reactions – are usefully reinterpreted as stimulation-seeking and stimulation-avoidance behaviors, respectively. Stimulationseeking gives way to stimulation-avoidance when the level of “incongruity” rises beyond a certain point, causing a switch – as described later on – from an increasing sympathetic-like pattern of physiological arousal to a parasympathetic-like one. The negatively evaluative overtones of the term panic have tended to obscure the fundamental similarities between so-called panic behavior and other motivationalemotional behaviors. The distinction between “panicky” and other forms of stimulation-seeking is also arbitrary – a matter of degree rather than kind. My suggestion is that the search for an explanation of panic as a distinct phenomenon (that is, distinct from other kinds of highly emotional behavior) is illusory and that panic behaviors can instead be subsumed within a general theory of behavior based on the principle of self-correcting systems.

114


In summary, “wild running”, aggression, and agitation are reinterpreted as stimulation-seeking behaviors, whereas immobility (“freezing”) reactions are reinterpreted as stimulation-avoidance behaviors. The degree (or state) of arousal and the corresponding degree of intensity of stimulation-seeking at which “panic” occurs is arbitrary. Stimulation-seeking is considered part of a homeostatic mechanism designed to restore or maintain “congruity” between perceived sensory input and the person’s cognitive map. When this is achieved, a state of behavioral quiescence supervenes. These points are developed in detail throughout Part III. Panic as Intense Stimulation-Seeking Certain behaviors described as “panic” – including flight, aggression, and other forms of intense agitation, all of which involve a high level of activity – can be usefully understood as upper “bands” on a continuous spectrum of intensity of stimulationseeking. Along with stimulation-seeking, which includes non-specific peripheral autonomic responses and general hyperactivity, panic states are associated with susceptibility to social influence (suggestibility, conformity, and so on) and with disturbances in people’s cognitive maps at all levels; that is, deterioration in perception and judgment, breakdown of “ego-boundaries” and loss of identity. Theorists and clinical observers have described panic states in similar terms, as discussed below. The following quotation illustrates the increased sensitivity of the peripheral sensory receptors in states of intense stimulation-seeking, and shows that “panic” is not just terrified flight. The behavior is often bewildering because of the many apparently contradictory features, which can be explained by the patient’s inability to decide to whom he should turn or where to find his enemies. He may yell for help and cling to people, or he may hit anybody who tries to interfere with him even with obviously the best intentions and abuse everybody. The patients rush around, stand immobile in a corner of toss around in a bed, staring or looking wildly about, the muscles of the face jerking, the face quivering, the eyes protruding from fear. The pupils are dilated; the skin is pale and covered with clammy perspiration; the mouth is dry; constriction of the throat makes swallowing difficult. The voice is often husky. (Diethelm, 1932: 1162; italics added) Acuteness of hearing is one of the earliest symptoms, leading to sensitiveness to noises … Shadows and spots on the walls may change into threatening animals … Acuteness of smell can lead to various hallucinations … Disturbances of taste are the basic for complaints of having “ground glass and gravel”in the food.1 The sharpening of all senses in the state of external insecurity seems to protect the individual from all possible danger. (Ibid., 1163, italics added)

1 The change in taste of saliva under intense stress is said to be the result of a change in electrolyte balance, that is, the ratio of potassium to sodium in the saliva is a result of pituitaryadrenal activity. Grad, in a letter to Dr Bovard, has suggested that the potassium–sodium ratio in saliva can be used as a measure of response to emotional stress (Bovard, 1959: 273).

Panic as Stimulation-Seeking

115

Diethelm (1932: 1162–1163) rightly observed that “knowledge of the bodily changes in panic is rather meager, partly from the lack of cooperation in states of extreme fear and insecurity”. Kelly and Walter (1968: 620) later described the physiological and somatic correlates of panic attacks as “tachycardia, palpitations, shortness of breath, weakness of the legs, sweating, tremor, a dry mouth … a feeling of impending death and strong desire to run away from the specific situation.” The concept of stimulation-seeking subsumes manic or hyperactive behavior, and there are many accounts of hyperactive behavior accompanying panic. Terms or phrases such as “flight”, “desperate attacks on people”, “emotional explosion”, “agitation”, and “motor restlessness” have all been applied to panic (for example, Diethelm, 1934: 1296–1298). As noted, however, the term panic is not restricted to hyperactivity (that is, stimulation-seeking); it also refers to stimulation-avoidance (that is, immobility) (see Chapter 16). Susceptibility to social influence has often been described either as a defining characteristic, correlate, or cause of panic. Thus Armstrong-Jones (1917: 374) describes panic as “an infectious feeling of fear, experienced not infrequently when there is no real danger”. Caldwell and associates (1951) provide a useful review of the topic and cite numerous examples. They suggest that “imitative behavior contributes to panic … People look when others run.” In the panic at the Iroquois Theater fire in 1903, they suggest, “it appears that the majority of the members of the audience, in panic, mimicked the behavior of a few and attempted to escape only through several exits which had been reached initially” (Caldwell et al., 1951: 545–546;2 see also LaPiere, 1938: 447). Suggestibility contributes to panic. Crowds, groups audiences are highly suggestible and this factor may operate to create panics … Probably there is no better example of suggestibility as a producer of panic than the Orson Welles broadcast on the invasion from Mars. The radio was used at the medium for inducing the suggestion, with the resultant panic.

Many authors have emphasized susceptibility to social influences as a key element in panic reactions (for example, McDougall, 1920; Lasswell, 1950; Meerloo, 1950; Brosin, 1943; L’Etang, 1966). Finally, a deterioration in cognitive function and personality occurs in panic states. Some authors regard these phenomena as correlates of panic, some as causative. Janis and Leventhal (1968: 1059) note the “temporary impairments in perception, cognition and control of motor impulses which characterize a state of acute panic”. Similarly, Diethelm (1932: 1163) notes that difficulties in thinking occur in panic states, as well as feelings of bewilderment, puzzlement, and confusion. Some of the best examples of this phenomenon are found in the literature on sensory deprivation. Many people subjected to prolonged sensory restriction become panicky and have to 2

The concept of suggestibility cannot be used to explain panic behavior, because it is inseparable from the behavior which defines the panic reaction itself. The point to emphasize is that susceptibility to social influence has been implicated in panic, either as a correlate or a defining feature of the behavior. See Chapter 20 for a reassessment of the impact of the Orson Welles’ broadcast.

116


leave the testing situation (see Chapter 7). Smith and Lewty (1959) confined 20 male and female subjects in sensory deprivation conditions: They write: At first most volunteers show a tendency to sleep, some for an unduly long time. Then follows a period of growing agitation, tension and restlessness. Disturbed thinking, particularly obsessional, occurs about this stage: and most subjects experience panic which makes them leave the room. But some of our volunteers, even when … perspiring profusely, with trembling limbs, dry mouths and tachycardia, still clung to conventional dislike of “anything psychological” and maintained that their reason for giving up had been backache and headache, or some “socially approved” symptom. (p. 344: italics added)

In the above study, most of those who gave up early (after 5–6 hours) gave unbearable anxiety, tension and panic attacks as their reasons for leaving. Evidence of cognitive impairment, deterioration in perception and breakdown of ego-boundaries has been reported in most sensory deprivation studies. Field data and second-hand reports on these phenomena in panic states are also plentiful. Lasswell (1950) suggests that panic may occur when a group is tense and insecure and when an imagined danger has not been dispelled. “In a state of mass insecurity, people are susceptible to propaganda because there has been a weakening of the ego.” Many authors, of whom the most celebrated is LeBon (1896), suggest that these phenomena occur in crowd situations. LeBon noted the “lowering in intellectual ability” that occurs when individuals become part of a crowd. McDougall (1920) also writes of the tendency for individuals in groups to lose their sense of identity and habits of critical reasoning. Lieutenant Colonel Ranson (1947: 10), a psychiatrist with the United States Army Medical Corps, described panic as: … the pathologic counterpart of normal fear, which involves temporary major disorganization of thinking and control by fear. Consciousness is usually clouded. The soldier’s actions are usually wholly maladaptive and often compromise his safety. The most common expression of true panic on the battlefield is the battle run, in which usually during a shelling, the soldier deserts cover and dashes about impulsively, exposing himself to flying shell fragments.

In a similar vein, L’Etang (1966: 284) writes: Panic is more likely to begin in forward areas where the shock of battle is most violent and the fog of war is most thick. It is relatively easy to prevent and control in the early stages but can get out of hand when the junior leader, the tangible and visible evidence of command, becomes a casualty. However it is never too late to mend, for troops, who are on the brink of panic and who are losing their identity as soldiers may be unduly susceptible to firm leadership. (Italics added)

Janis and Leventhal (1968: 1045) describe how acute panic reactions occurring in combat have the effect of disorganizing cognitive functions to such an extent that for several hours afterwards the victims act in a psychotic-like manner. These reactions include:


117

… misinterpreting unexpected stimuli as signs of danger, projecting aggressive impulses and fears onto fellow soldiers, taking cover in response to any loud noise, and performing other impetuous protective actions that actually increase the danger (Glass, 1953; Grinker and Spiegel, 1945a,b; Kardiner and Spiegel, 1947; Menninger, 1954)

Janis and Leventhal conclude that “(w)hat is most clearly indicated by the existing evidence is that very high levels of fear arousal tend to impair perceptual and cognitive functions” (p. 1053). Panic states have also, of course, been studied in a psychiatric context, where they are considered synonymous with acute anxiety. Feelings of losing consciousness or control are major accompanying features (Sim, 1968: 409). Acute anxiety attacks can also occur as a secondary feature in other psychiatric syndromes. Mapother (1928) argues that anxiety states form one of the many subdivisions of the manic-depressive group of affective disorders (see also Lewis, 1934; Woolfson, 1968). Mania can be considered a more advanced state of, and similar to hyperactivity, which we have interpreted as stimulation-seeking. The precise nosological position of panic states remains controversial (see Lader and Marks, 1971). Developments in classification await powerful theoretical developments in neurophysiology and neurochemistry. Thus far it has been suggested that the distinction between panic states and milder forms of “stress” reactions are more a matter of degree than of kind, and that panic states can be usually reinterpreted in terms of stimulation-seeking and stimulationavoidance. Stimulation-avoidance reactions are described in a later chapter. Arousal-Reducing Function of Wild Running, Agitation, and “Keeping Busy” Many seemingly unrelated behaviors, including bizarre forms of self-mutilation, can be similarly reinterpreted as stimulation-seeking behavior, for example, stamping the feet (or hooves, in bulls); head-banging; writhing on the floor; beating the chest; pulling the hair; self-biting; kicking hard objects; striking the eyes, and other selfinflicted injuries (see Stinnett and Hollender, 1970; Tinkelpaugh, 1928; Phillips and Alkan, 1961). Active suicide and so-called attempted suicide can also be reinterpreted as the outcome of stimulation-seeking following stress-induced increases in arousal. The theory explains one of the more puzzling aspects of suicidal behavior – that people often choose violent and painful methods to kill themselves.3 All of these activities can be said to increase sensory input and at the same time reduce the level of arousal. Many authors have commented on the arousal-reducing function of activity, even intense activity. Dollard (1944) gave a questionnaire to 3

The category of stimulation-seeking also includes the so-called “escape dive” behavior of ducks (Eibl-Eibesfeldt, 1970: 284), which often occurs in the absence of external stimulus. In addition, we speculate that the “spontaneous” running often observed in courting couples and “happy” individuals comes under this category, and is due to sudden increases in arousal – caused by sudden feelings of elation.

118


300 veterans of the Abraham Lincoln Brigade who had volunteered for service in the Spanish Civil War. The typical informant was a rifleman, NCO, poorly trained by United Sates Army standards, and wounded. These men agreed that “keeping busy is a good way of reducing fear”. Drayer (1957) points out that: Morale is often reasonably well maintained as long as tasks are available, the doing of which will clearly reduce somewhat the damage which can be expected from the approaching peril. Boarding up windows before a hurricane; piling up sandbags along a rising river; laying in provisions before a severe blizzard – these are all examples of how many threatened people can maintain their psychological perspective and sense of personal value in the face of anticipated danger … Nothing is so difficult to do as nothing – especially when danger looms ahead.

Hocking (1943) notes that “fear is a transition state; it prepares for action and usually vanishes when action begins” (p. 265). Lord Moran (1945), in his book The Anatomy of Courage comments: In the presence of danger man often finds salvation in action. To dull emotion he must do something; to remain immobile, to stagnate in mind and body, is to surrender without terms. Whereas movement, work of any kind, helps to deliver him from those feelings which are traitors to his better nature. In the last war … the man in the observation balloon, with little to do but sit in the middle of a target, was more liable to break down than the observer in an aeroplane, while the observer was more vulnerable than the pilot. To sit under bombardment in the trench was more testing than to fight in the open. (p. 42)

Marshall (1947: 71) similarly writes about the infantry soldier in World War II: Getting him on his way to the doing of one positive act – the digging of a foxhole or the administering of first-aid to a comrade – persuading him to make any constructive use of his muscle power, and especially putting him at a job which he can share with other men, may become the first step towards getting him to make appropriate use of his weapons. Action is the great steadying force. It helps to clear the brain.

On the basis of his experience as a US Army psychiatrist in Vietnam, Bourne (1970: 482) writes. Neuropsychiatric casualties in combat occur predominantly when the lines of battle are static and diminish sharply when the troops are on the move, even though they may be in full retreat. It is also accepted that artillery or other bombardment without any effective method of retaliation is more likely to produce psychiatric casualties than any other combat circumstances.

Bourne notes that the incidence of American psychiatric casualties in Vietnam was surprisingly low compared to that of the Korean War and World War II. The above quotations provide a clue to the explanation of this interesting fact. No battle lines existed in the Vietnam War and most of the fighting took place on “search and


119

destroy” missions. The low incidence of psychiatric casualties in the Vietnam War may have been due precisely to the need for the troops to take the initiative and to be constantly on the move. Another important factor, which clearly had some effect on the incidence rate, was the one-year tour of duty (Bourne, 1970: 485). Panic as an Expression of Both Rage and Fear The negative connotations of the term panic have tended to obscure similarities between it and other behaviors; that is, the supposedly “cowardly” action of panic (for example, in combat) is closely related to a phenomenon known in the military as “pathological bravery”. Just as this may be true of individual panics and individual cases of pathological bravery, so it may also be true of collective panic and certain military charges against the enemy. Arousal reduction can occur through violent, agitated action, and can take the form either of flight or violent attack. The association between fear and rage, flight and fight, is well-known. Cannon (1932), for example, described certain bodily reactions as preparing the individual for either fight or flight. Brosin (1943: 56) notes that: Rage is often the expression of panic … in states of rage, as well as in those of stupor or excitement, one sees similar elements: … (1) crisis or explosion usually following a prolonged tension state; (2) more or less complete disorganization of the individual characterized by changes in the usual behavior pattern, resort to lower levels of efficiency, lack of coordinated goal activities, and profoundly altered functioning in the autonomic, motor and sensory nervous systems. Cannon, Crile, Bard and their associates have familiarized us with these defenses for fight or flight.

Trautman (1964: 138), commenting on personality changes in 100 surviving victims of Nazi concentration camps, writes: There appears to be a relationship between chronic anxiety, tension and paranoid hostility, and between panic spells and spells of rage. While these patients were being persecuted they were angry but defenseless … The suppressed rage became an intrinsic part of the panic. Today, the chronic anxiety is accompanied by paranoid hostility, and the spells of panic are paralleled by violence.

Meerloo (1950: 22) goes even further in suggesting that persecution, pogroms, riots and lynch mobs are all “expressions of fear in crowds”. In sum, panic can be an expression of both rage and fear, and these emotions can be inextricably fused. We can only begin to understand these facts by inquiring into the nature of aggression, the topic to which we now turn.


Chapter 11

Aggression In Part II, questions were raised against the conventional view that there are certain “basic drives”, including hunger, thirst and sex. Aggression is usually regarded in the same light – not as a basic drive, but as a distinct biological and behavioral phenomenon with unique defining characteristics and specific eliciting conditions. In this chapter we similarly propose that aggression is not an identifiably separate or irreducible category of behavior but, like eating, drinking and sexual activity, is more usefully reinterpreted as an intense manifestation of stimulation-seeking.1 There has been much debate on the extent to which aggression is innate and/or learned (Lorenz, 1966; Montagu, 1968), but it is implicitly assumed that aggression is a distinct phenomenon. By and large, conceptual issues are conveniently ignored by using operational definitions of behavior such as biting or killing frequency. Here it is suggested that aggression is not a separate phenomenon or class of phenomena but is better understood as an intense form of stimulation-seeking behavior. The notion that aggression is a distinct phenomenon rests on four implicit assumptions: (1) there are specific eliciting conditions of aggression; (2) there are special neural substrates, pathways or “mechanisms” of aggression, discoverable in the same way that thirst and feeding mechanisms are said to be discoverable; (3) aggression does not markedly overlap with other activities; (4) aggression can be identified independently of other behaviors. Review of the evidence on these assumptions points to the conclusion that they are false. Eliciting Conditions of Aggression Specific eliciting conditions of aggressive behavior have not yet been discovered. Classically, aggression has been ascribed to “frustration” (Dollard et al., 1939), but aggression is not the only response to frustration (Miller, 1959), and aggression is not always among the variety of responses elicited by frustration (Allport et al., 1962). The definition of frustration is also indeterminate, with the resulting danger of tautology (Berkowitz, 1963). 1

2005a).

For later work on aggression by the author, see Mawson (1980a, 1987, 1999a,b,

122


Many “different” activities share the same causal factors. In many vertebrate species, sexual and aggressive as well as parental behavior are facilitated by the administration of pituitary hormones (Hinde, 1966: 167). Administration of male sex hormone to a male chaffinch influences whether it will show courtship to a female, the extent and the nature of its aggressive response to a male, the frequency with which it sings, and so on; androgens act as a causal factor common to many different activities, though, of course, all are not affected equally. (Hinde, 1966: 293)

In chicks, testosterone increases visual scanning in a feeding situation, as well as copulation, escape and maze exploration (Archer, 1971). Electric shock at moderate intensities produces a considerable variety of emotional-motivational behaviors, including aggression (Ulrich et al., 1964; Lagerspetz and Mettala, 1965), regardless of whether the animal has been reared with others or in isolation (Hutchinson et al., 1965; Roberts and Berquist, 1968). Liddell (1953) used the conditioned reflex method to study behavior disturbance in sheep, goats and pigs, and found that as the animals were forced to make finer and finer discriminations between two metronome beats they began to respond erratically, former discriminations were lost, and many animals, in periodic outbursts of rage, attacked the apparatus in which they were restrained. Stimuli from the territory of the Stickleback fish have multiple effects on behavior. Hinde (1966: 177) writes: … these stimuli are not only “motivating” for aggressive and nest-building behavior, but also “consummatory” for migration. A suitable habitat state which gave rise to it is still (presumably) present.

Is There a Specific Neural Substrate for Aggression? Neurophysiological investigation has been hampered by the assumption of centers or pathways in the brain corresponding more or less directly to familiar, “commonsense” behavioral categories. While the search continues for the neural pathways underlying, for example, “thirst”, it is increasingly recognized that the hypothalamus does not contain neural pathways specific to the familiar behavioral categories (Valenstein et al., 1970) and that particular classes of incentive stimuli as well as particular organismic states are necessary for the elicitation of emotionalmotivational behavior (Hinde, 1966; Moyer, 1967; Bindra, 1970). For example, direct brain stimulation may cause a duck to attack a subordinate companion, but give ambivalent responses when a dominant companion is present (Maley, 1969). Von Holst and von Saint Paul (1963), using an electrode implant in the brainstem of a domestic cock, found that stimulation produced motor unrest. If, however, a stuffed polecat was presented with the electrical stimulation it was vigorously attached. They also found that vocalization, fluffing of feathers, or preening – or nothing at all – could be obtained from the same electrode at different times without altering the stimulus parameters.

Aggression

123

Similarly, it has been found that stimulation in one locus and at the same intensity can elicit either “flight” or “attack” (von Holst and Saint Paul, 1963; Harwood and Vowles, 1967). W.R. Hess (1954), applying threshold stimulation to parts of the hypothalamus, first elicited an alerting reaction: the animal pricked up its ears, showed pupillary dilatation, and looked up and around. With stronger intensities of stimulation piloerection occurred, the claws were unsheathed, the animal hissed and spat and began running movements which ended in flight or directed attack. Aggression and Related Behaviors Aggressive behavior is closely preceded, accompanied or followed by other behaviors (MacLean, 1963). Aggression rarely occurs in isolation from other, apparently unrelated behaviors. Aggression often occurs with feeding. For instance, in Red Junglefowl chicks of about four weeks of age, many aspects of fighting are influenced by the factors controlling feeding, for example, hungry chicks show a high frequency of aggressive pecking when fighting than satiated ones, although the frequency of fighting itself is much the same. “Irrelevant feeding” and aggressive pecking occur in combination with each other, since the vigorous ground pecks in aggressive situations often result in swallowing. When the bird is fighting a colored stick it pecks more at food particles of a similar color to the stick than at those of a different color (Hinde, 1966: 377, 288). So-called “irrelevant” activity is often seen in situations supposedly involving conflict between behavior “tendencies”. In an “approach-avoidance conflict”, flighting turkeys may either drink water if it is available or feed if food is present (Raber, 1948; Armstrong, 1950; Tinbergen, 1952). Similarly, in many aggressive or sexual situations, passerine birds wipe their beaks, preen their feathers, drink or feed, or engage in some other apparently “irrelevant” activity (Hinde, 1966: 278). Aggression and sexual activity are also closely related; for example, in most species of passerine birds, such as the Chaffinch, Yellowhammer and Great Tit, territorial fighting occurs only in the Spring, when the gonads are active and sex hormones are being released. Similarly, in the courtship behavior of the ThreeSpined Stickleback, the male, having first built a nest, courts egg-laden females with a “zig-zag” dance. The female then enters the nest and deposits her eggs. The male follows, fertilizes the clutch, and then usually attacks the female (Hinde, 1966: 237, 177). Wiepkema (1961) has shown that for the Bitterling, a species of small fish, egg-laying is associated with increases in both the sexual and aggressive activity of the male. A similar interaction of “drives” occurs in the courtship behavior of other vertebrates (for example, Rabb and Rabb, 1963), and “ambivalence” plays an important role in the courtship displays of mammals (Hinde, 1966: 264). Munson (1921) noted that stags in the mating season may attack persons towards whom they are normally well-disposed, or dash their horns against inanimate objects. Aggression, feeding, sex and flight are likely to occur in the same situations (Hinde, 1966: 429). In the Spring courtship activity of Great Tits, although actual combat is

124


rare, each bird attacks and flees in turn, while showing a highly involved sequence of postures and movements in between. The female Chaffinch can elicit attack, flight or sexual behavior in the male. Early in the season the male’s response to the female is highly aggressive; later, he appears to grow afraid of her, but his readiness to attack other males increases at this time. When copulation is attempted the main conflict is between approach and flight. As soon as copulation is over the male flees and gives the same call as that given in the presence of a flying predator (Hinde, 1966: 249, 250). When the male attempts copulation, the female does not always show sexual behavior; she may fly off or attack. Hinde (1966: 252) comments: Evidently proximity of the sex partner may elicit aggressive or fleeing as well as sexual behavior in the female, as with the male.

Similarly, in many species of bunting, the male flies rapidly after the female in “sexual chases” at a stage when he also has a considerable tendency to flee from her (Hinde, 1966: 277–278). In all rodent species which have been studied, considerable ambivalence exists between fleeing, aggression and mating tendencies in social encounters (Eibl-Eibesfeldt, 1953; Grant and Mackintosh, 1963). Tendencies to attack, flee and behave sexually are by no means the only ones involved in courtship activities. In birds, tendencies to build nests, sing, beg, look around, and probably others are involved (Hinde, 1966: 253, 263). By comparison with animals, very little experimental knowledge is yet available on the inter-correlation of aggression with other forms of behavior in human beings. For the most part, aggression has been studied in relative isolation from other forms of behavior on the assumption it is a distinct phenomenon. However, aggressive behavior is closely related to behaviors conventionally thought to be unrelated to it, including dependency and affiliation. For example, studies of young children separated from their mothers provide evidence that the intense longing of a child for his mother is accompanied by intense generalized hostility (Robertson, 1953). Heinicke (1956) compared the behavior of two groups of children separated from their mothers. The children were aged 16–26 months. One group was in a residential nursery, the other in a day nursery. Those in the residential nursery not only cried more for their mothers but showed considerable violent hostility which was virtually absent in the day nursery children. The targets of this hostility were extremely varied. Bowlby, who has written extensively on this topic, expresses the belief that “there is no experience to which a young child can be subjected more prone to elicit intense and violent hatred for the mother figure than that of separation” (Bowlby, 1960b: 24). At the same time, such children in the initial “protest” stage of separation (Bowlby, 1960a) show intense affiliative behavior – at first directed exclusively at the absent mother, later in an increasingly indiscriminate fashion to nurses and visitors. Other forms of what we have called stimulation-seeking behavior are also very common (cf., Burlingham and Freud, 1944). In Heinicke’s (1956) study, for example:

Aggression

125

Autoerotic behavior and pronounced hostility, present during the first week, rose in incidence during the second; during the tenth, eleventh and twelfth days they together comprised over 18% of the behavior recorded. Thus, during the middle of the second week nearly one third of the recorded behavior of these children consisted of one of these activities, all indicative of emotional disturbances, namely, crying for absent parents, autoerotic activity and intense aggression. (cited in Bowlby, 1960b: 26)

Burlington and Freud (1942, 1944), in their wartime studies of children in the Hampstead Nurseries, noted a generalized increase in activity, expressed in intense and prolonged thumb-sucking, an “insatiable greed” for food, and persistent autoeroticism. Here, then, we have evidence of the inter-correlation of aggression, sexual, eating, and attachment behavior – not to speak of activities like thumb-sucking and “hyperactivity”. Everyday experience reminds us that a mother reacts to a child who has gone missing in much the same way as a child reacts to separation from the mother. Mother’s behavior on the return of the child is a mixture of aggression and warmth. Before the child returns the mother may have shown irritation or aggression to many people, including her own family. Individuals who are expressing intense aggression and hostility are typically, at the same time, highly dependent and affiliative. It is also recalled from the discussion of Bowlby’s (1969) Attachment and Loss, Volume 1, that the eliciting conditions for attachment behavior – fatigue, hunger, ill health, pain and cold; mother’s absence, departure or discouragement of proximity; alarming events and rebuffs from other adults and children – are the same as those that elicit aggression, irritation or hostility. Several other curious phenomena can be mentioned. In their book on Interpersonal Attraction, Berscheid and Walster (1969: 48; see also Mannheim 1965, Volume II, pp. 670–676), note that close proximity to another individual is as likely to produce hostility as it is attraction. They write: The Detroit Police Department’s 1967 Annual Report, for example, indicates that in the majority of robberies the perpetrator is either related to, or acquainted with, the victim. It is somewhat surprising to find that thieves are much more likely to rob an intimate than a stranger … [I]ndividuals are most likely to victimize those in close proximity.

Similarly, according to J. Edgar Hoover (1966: 9, cited in Berscheid and Walster, 1969: 48): “Most aggravated assaults occur within the family unit,or among neighbors and acquaintances. The victim and offender relationship as well as the very nature of the attack make this crime similar to murders”… With respect to homicide, Hoover’s statistics reveal that killings within the family make up almost a third of all murders. If one adds to this those which occur between“romantic lovers,” the figure is even higher.

126


These facts may be surprising, because we tend to assume that aggression and warmth, love and hate, are mutually exclusive in the objects to which they are directed. However, Freud (1922: 33) has pointed out that “almost every intimate emotional relationship between two people which lasts for some time – marriage, friendship, the relations between parents and children – contains a sediment of feelings of aversion and hostility, which only escapes perception as a result of repression.” Later, he writes, probably with tongue in cheek (p. 37): Identification, in fact, is ambivalent from the very first; it can turn into an expression of tenderness as easily into a wish for someone’s removal. It behaves like a derivative of the first, oral phase of the organization of the libido, in which the object we long for and prize is assimilated by eating and in that way annihilated as such. The cannibal, as we know, has remained at this standpoint; he has a devouring affection for his enemies and only devours people of whom he is fond.

Aggression is often directed at love objects, but the commonsense expectation is that aggression is usually directed at enemies or outsiders, accompanied by feelings of rage or hatred. However, the notion that love and hate, affiliation and aggression are mutually incompatible emotions and behaviors must be seriously questioned in light of some further facts. Those to whom aggression or hatred is expressed often subsequently become close friends or associates. It is often said, for example, that people covertly respect their enemies; after a fight, the combatants often embrace or shake hands. Violent hostility to an individual or cause can similarly lead, often dramatically, to a reversal of attitude and intense attachment. In his interesting book Battle for the Mind, Sargant (1957: 86–87) discusses the relation between the effects of Wesley’s evangelist preaching on his listeners and Pavlov’s experiments on the creation of conditioned reflexes in dogs. As Pavlov’s experimental findings on dogs and experiences in the treatment of war neuroses would lead one to expect, the effect of getting too emotionally involved, either positively or negatively, with Wesley’s preaching was to increase the likelihood of being converted. It often happened, quite unexpectedly for the person concerned, that when he had been roused to the greatest pitch of indignation and anger by the proceedings, he suddenly broke down and accepted every belief demanded of him. For it has been shown …. that anger as well as fear, can induce disturbances of brain function which make a person highly suggestible and reverse his conditioned behavior patterns or even wipe the “cortical slate” clean.

It is often assumed that a one-to-one correspondence exists between the occurrence of a particular emotion or feeling and a particular form of behavior. Anger is said to lead to attack, fear to result in flight, hunger to eating, and so on. This view presents a number of difficulties. First, anger and fear are ambiguous concepts in both a phenomenological and physiological sense. For example, one can be “red with anger” or “white with rage”, suggesting that either cutaneous vasodilatation or vasoconstriction can occur in states of anger. Similarly, “fear” embraces both the diffuse, free-floating apprehension termed anxiety as well as extreme states of terror.

Aggression

127

Second, fear can be associated either with active withdrawal or immobility; anger with eating, sexual behavior, or attack; and fear is sometimes expressed in attack, as in the example of a battle charge motivated by terror. Third, this view assumes the existence of “pure” affects (that is, pure anger and fear), but human feelings rarely take a pure form (Oken, 1960, 1967: 46). Commenting on the experimental study of stress in human subjects, Grinker (1966: 137) writes: Another difficulty in stress work is that one does not evoke a single, isolated emotional response. As a matter of fact, in research in which psychologists, psychiatrists, and biologists attempt to evoke and relate variables in the anxiety system, a mixture of anger, depression and anxiety are generally produced.

Little attention has been given to so-called “impure affects” in psychology and psychiatry (Diethelm, 1934: 1303), such as suspiciousness, apprehension, grief, and embarrassment (but see Averill, 1968). Even if it is granted that, on occasion, individuals experience subjectively “pure” forms of anger or fear, it is doubtful if there is an underlying difference between the emotions at a physiological level (Mueller, 1970; Frankenhaeuser, 1971). Ax (1953), Funkenstein et al. (1957) and J. Schachter (1957) have all reported different autonomic patterns for anger and anxiety. However, the differences were subtle and required complex statistical techniques to tease them out (Oken, 1967: 55). All of the researchers argued that anxiety produced on adrenaline-like response; anger, on the other hand, tended to produce a noradrenaline response (Funkenstein), a mixed noradrenaline or adrenaline response (Ax), or an adrenaline-like response at extreme intensities, with a noradrenalinelike response at moderate levels (Schachter). Oken (1967: 55) has pointed out that, apart from this discrepancy, and Funkenstein’s use of measures derived from balistocardiography, an outdated method, there is no unitary noradrenaline release mechanism analogous to that for adrenaline. In addition, it is incorrect to describe a response as noradrenaline-like on the grounds that it is similar to the effects of intravenously-administered noradrenaline, since this technique has no counterpart in physiology. There is also evidence pointing to different kinds of patterning within the sympathetic nervous system, related to stimulus characteristics (for example, R.C. Davis, 1957) and to individual “response specificity and stereotypy” (Lacey and Lacey, 1958). Such physiological differences as may exist between subjectively different emotional states are therefore, at best, extremely subtle, “and the variety of emotional states are by no means matched by an equal variety of visceral patterns” (S. Schachter and Singer, 1962: 380). Importantly, Schachter and Singer (1962) have shown that injections of adrenaline are associated with a variety of subjective emotional states, depending on the stimulus cues available to the subject at the time of the injection. In summary, evidence drawn from a variety of sources suggests that aggression correlates highly with other “primary drive” activities, with affiliation, with flight, and with behaviors such as thumb-sucking and self-mutilation.

128


Identifying Aggression in Practice Aggression was once thought of as a form of energy that built up in the tissues and was released by certain stimuli in the environment. This notion is still evident in everyday expressions such as “releasing tension” and “blowing one’s top”. The notion of specific motivational energies is based on hydraulic models of behavior that have no counterpart in physiological systems (Hinde, 1960; Cofer and Appley, 1964). Yet the “ghost” of this theory still haunts current models of aggressive behavior. For example, the term behavioral “tendency” has replaced the notion of “energy” and the “disinhibition hypothesis” (Andrew, 1956; van Iersel and Bol, 1958; McFarland, 1969) has replaced the energy model. This model assumes, first, that behavior tendencies can be identified independently of each other; second, that such tendencies are incompatible with each other, in that the occurrence of tendency A precludes the occurrence of tendency B; third, the tendencies inhibit one another, and hence that a given tendency will manifest itself if it is not inhibited. It has also been suggested that an equilibrium point can occur between two tendencies, such that a third tendency (“displacement activity”) is allowed to appear instead (Rowell, 1961). The difficulty is that aggressive “tendencies” are not only highly correlated with other tendencies, as we have seen, but are often indistinguishable from them. Aggression has been defined as “any sequence of action, the goal response to which is the injury of the person to whom it is directed” (Dollard et al., 1939: 9). Commenting on this definition, Berscheid and Walster (1969: 97) point out that “in other words, a person is aggressing if, and only if, by his fantasies, plans of actions he intends to injure another”. The concept of aggression is also used adjectively, as a description of individuals or of other sorts of actions. Terms such as aggressive, dynamic or vigorous are sometimes used interchangeably in reference to individuals, and other kinds of behavior such as feeding, sex and affiliation can be further characterized as “aggressive”. In the latter situations it appears to be the vigor or intensity of the behavior that evokes the label of aggression rather than any intrinsic differences in the response patterns themselves. For instance, aggression and feeding behavior in predatory species are often one and the same activity. Feeding is “aggressive” (that is, involving injury and death to another animal) by the very nature of the animal in question. Sexual activity also involves varying degrees of aggression (cf. sadomasochism), and the problem is again one of separately identifying the sexual components of actions from the aggressive ones – or indeed from the eating ones. The “love bite,” for example, might be said to involve aggression, sexual and feeding elements. Similarly, everyday experience suggests that as the intensity of affiliative behavior or searching for another animal or human increases, so the behavior shades imperceptibly into “aggression”. A mother who discovers her child after an anxious search will often attack or beat it. Similarly, as a child’s attempts to seek proximity with his mother increases, his tugs at her skirt become more and more violent. Insofar as affiliative behavior is defined as seeking proximity with another individual, there

Aggression

129

is an evident strong overlap between affiliation and aggression. Bodily attack, at least, cannot occur without close physical proximity (cf. Glickman and Schiff, 1967; Grastyan, 1968). The second assumption of the disinhibition hypothesis is that behavior tendencies are incompatible with each other and that the occurrence of tendency A precludes the occurrence of tendency B. Some authors, dissatisfied with a unitary concept of aggression, have distinguished various categories of aggressive behavior, such as affective (or defensive) attack and stalking attack (Wasman and Flynnn 1962), although more involved classification schemes have been proposed (Moyer, 1967; Maley, 1969). Under the heading of affective attack, Wasman and Flynn (1962) – using brain stimulation with cats as subjects – included hissing, piloerection, growling, arching the back, head low to the ground, circling the cage, striking with the forepaws and biting. They found that stalking attack involved the animal placing its nose near to the ground and arching its back, followed by movement directly towards a captive rat and biting, with less prominent use of the claws and minimal growling, hissing or piloerection. Stalking attacks were more deadly and appeared to be elicited from more lateral points in the hypothalamus than affective attacks. As noted, both categories of responses were obtained by electrical stimulation of the hypothalamus of the cat. Some authors have suggested that all behaviors can be classified into one of two kinds: approach or withdrawal (Schneirla, 1959; Glickman and Schiff, 1967; Stein, 1969). Under the category of approach, Glickman and Schiff (1967: 83) include “investigatory activity, feeding, drinking, sexual activity, maternal activity, care of the body, aggressive responses of a carnivore, and probably the defensive activities of any species in protection of home territory. Withdrawal includes escape from painful stimulation, flight from a predator, and the less dramatic withdrawal from an aversive taste, smell or other simple sensory stimulus” (italics added). In their discussion of Wasman and Flynn’s (1962) findings, Glickman and Schiff (1967: 90) argue that: … the stalking pattern would be classified as a pure approach sequence. Not so the affective attack which contains defensive elements (hissing, piloerection) that have been shown to presage possible conversion into a flight sequence (Fernandez de Molina and Hunsperger, 1959). We thus expect high positive reinforcing effects from the placements eliciting stalking attack, and mixed but dominantly positive, effects from regions yielding affective attack. Wasman and Flynn present no direct information about this point.

Their argument seems arbitrary, however, since no criterion is presented in terms of which behavior pattern is to be classified as an approach or withdrawal response. Secondly, approach and withdrawal are not, in fact, mutually exclusive categories. Attack may, on occasion, be construed as escape behavior; more profoundly, flight can simultaneously take the form of affiliative or approach behavior, directed either to individuals or to some other “haven of safety” (Harlow and Zimmerman, 1959; Bowlby, 1960a; see Chapter 15).

130


The study of animal displays also suggests that the relation between particular components of display postures and subsequent behavior is far from precise and that particular displays are often followed by a variety of behaviors. Stokes (1962) studied the correlations between various components in the agonistic displays of the Blue Tit. The results showed that the use of crude postures was justified only in the preliminary analysis of displays. The “upright” threat posture of the Herring Gull is a combination of the components of attack and flight (Hinde, 1966: 256–258), and courtship displays are sometimes followed by attack and sometimes by fleeing. As Hinde (1966: 254) points out: “… many displays are seldom followed by pure expressions of one or another of the tendencies with which, according to other sources of evidence, they are associated.” Wiepkema (1961) made a detailed factor-analytic study of the reproductive behavior of the Bitterling, a species of small fish, using the principal-axes method, and found that many factors were common to groups of behaviors designated as sex, attack and flight. He concluded that the relationships between the responses could not be explained by “postulating inhibitory effects between major tendencies each of which is associated with a limited number of behavior patterns” (Hinde, 1966: 267). Hinde adds: “Evidence such as this shows that descriptions of conflict in the form of inhibitory relationships between major tendencies may sometimes be suitable only for the initial stages of analysis.” Glickman and Schiff (1967) and Stein (1969) have proposed that approach and withdrawal behaviors correspond to the so-called “positive” and “negative” reinforcement areas of the brain (Olds and Olds, 1965). The notion of inherently pleasurable and aversive neural pathways is an over-simplification, however. Insofar as a vigorous “escape” response elicited by brain stimulation is taken as evidence of an inherently aversive area, the difficulty is that cats fail to avoid the stimulation producing the response; in fact, the animals learn a response to obtain such stimulation (Roberts, 1958a,b). Moreover, if the learning of a response which terminates intracranial stimulation is taken as the criterion of aversiveness, Valenstein and Valenstein (1964) have shown that rats will repetitively turn on and off electrical stimulation delivered to sites from which self-stimulation (“pleasurable effects”) have been elicited. Thus, termination of brain stimulation is not a response unique to supposedly aversive stimulation. The Valensteins have also shown that the higher the intensity of the stimulation, the sooner the animals terminated the stimulation. However, there was no resistance to turning the stimulation on again. In fact, the stimulation was reset faster at the higher intensities, and when stimulus trains were fixed many times longer than the previously self-selected or preferred durations there was no hesitation in turning the stimulus on again (see also Keesey, 1964; Hodos, 1965). These points argue strongly against the notion of built-in “pleasure” and “pain” centers. Taken together, this evidence raises the question not just of the level at which incompatibility should be assessed, but whether or not it is appropriate to talk of incompatibility between responses at all. The notion of separate behavior tendencies rests largely on the relatively unexamined assumption that certain classes of behavior occur more frequently in some situations or contexts than others. But it has been

Aggression

131

pointed out that in the course of copulatory encounters between rats, animals of both sexes devote the vast majority of the time to “non-sexual” activities (Stone, 1922). In fact, less than 1% of a typical sex behavior test with rats is spent in actual intromission (Pierce and Nuttall, 1961), and there has been little study of the remaining 99% of the behavior in the test situation (Dewsbury, 1967). Similar “naïve” observational studies of other motivational behaviors have yet to be initiated. The existence of separate behavior tendencies has been taken for granted. Their independent identification turns out, on close analysis, to be exceedingly elusive. Hence, the third assumption of mutually inhibitory tendencies which would otherwise be “released” not only begs the initial ontological question but also seems to be not far removed from the energy model of motivation which it supposedly replaced. It also follows that the concept of disinhibited “displacement” activity, discussed below, is highly equivocal. The classification of behavior as aggressive involves making value-judgments which are greatly influenced by the intensity of the observed behavior (Bandura and Walters, 1963). Walters and Parke (1964b: 236) comment: For example, a child who gently pulls on his mother’s skirts has traditionally been regarded as displaying dependency, whereas one who pulls in a violent manner is likely to be judged aggressive. It is little wonder that disruptive, socially-disapproved, “negativeattention-getting” behavior has posed a problem for child psychologists, who seem never quite certain to what drive system this behavior should be attributed.

In addition, aggression – not to speak of sexual activity (Dewsbury, 1967) and feeding (Richter, 1957), and of course “flight” – is usually accompanied by a general increase in overt activity, an effect which has been minimized in discussions claiming to support specific drive theories (Walters and Parke, 1964b). A classic example is the study by Sears and his associates (1953) of pre-school children, in which curvilinear relationships were found between maternal frustration and punishment for dependency and aggression, and the incidence of dependency and aggressive responses. A similar curvilinear relationship was found between maternal frustration and the activity level of children. Walters and Parke (1964b: 235) comment: There was, in fact, no consistent relationship, between the relative incidence of dependency and aggression and the occurrence of maternal frustration and punishment for these kinds of response. Thus, although the study of Sears et al. may be interpreted as indicating that inconsistent discipline (moderate reward and moderate frustration) increases the emotional responsiveness of a child, it provides no clear cut evidence of any other motivational effect. (italics added)

“General activity” is one of a considerable number of behaviors which form an embarrassing residual category in psychobiology. They include rocking, nail-biting, thumb-sucking, smoking, scratching, grooming, drumming the fingers, pulling the hair, and various forms of self-mutilation, ranging from violent head-banging to suicide. Some of the less dramatic forms have been described as displacement

132


activities (Hinde, 1966). If the so-called primary drives are far from easy to identify independently of each other, the displacement activities, which often appear in stressful situations, have so far defied adequate classification. Some have been subsumed under the more familiar categories (for example, suicide as “aggression against the self” (Menninger, 1938: Burlingham and Freud, 1944; Spitz, 1953; Cain, 1961)), and some have been described as “oral” behaviors, following psychoanalytic tradition (Bernfeld, 1925; Klein, 1940). Both solutions are unsatisfactory, since nailbiting, to take one example, could reasonably be described either as a form of eating or as a form of aggression. The label seems to shift from the former to the latter as a function of the intensity of the behavior. According to psychoanalytic theory, oral behaviors such as biting, thumb-sucking and excessive eating can be understood as a response to loss of the mother’s breast. In practice, however, the effects of loss of the breast or of weaning are difficult to separate from those of loss of the mother in a wider sense. Bowlby (1960a,b) attributes such behavior patterns to loss of the mother’s love and, more particularly, to attempts to seek proximity with the mother. However, the concept of attachment behavior will not do as an overall description (see Chapter 5) and is subject to other difficulties, apart from the fact that, at particularly high intensities, it is not readily distinguishable from aggression, as already noted. Finally, one solution has been to label the activity as a new “tendency” or drive (for example, exploratory, manipulatory, nail-biting, sniffing drive, and so on), but where does such an arbitrary process of fragmentation logically end? The more that new tendencies are named to classify what are thought to be separate behaviors, the more arbitrary the assignment of particular behaviors to particular tendencies becomes, and at the same time the assumption of separate drives becomes increasingly suspect. None of the conventional categories, including aggression, can convincingly serve as the basic classificatory principle for the so-called “displacement” activities. Many activities can be classified either as “oral” or as “aggressive” behavior, such as thumb-sucking and nail-biting. What distinguishes them is evidently the vigor or intensity of the behavior rather than any intrinsic difference in the response patterns themselves. In a discussion of definitional problems, Walters and Parke (1964b) note that “dependency” and “aggression” are “quasi-evaluative labels reflecting social judgments that are made within particular cultural contexts” (p. 241). On the other hand, although the labels are not well defined they do have some “objective reference” which makes the task of the social psychologist two-fold. First, he or she has to investigate the conditions under which the behavioral referents are acquired in the course of social learning; second, he or she must determine “how a child learns to make the social judgments that enable him to discriminate acceptable from nonacceptable responses, which are then classified, as … aggressive or non-aggressive, on the basis of their acceptability within the cultural system” (pp. 241–242). With regard to the definition of “dependency behavior”, they suggest that all responses so-called involve the common behavioral referent of “orienting and attending to others” (p. 242). In some contexts orienting and attending to others, together with

Aggression

133

accompanying “instrumental acts”, will be judged as dependent; in others they will not be so judged, but “‘dependency’ is employed as a convenient label for referring to behavior that has customarily been classified in this way by developmental and social psychologists (although) we do not believe that dependency will ultimately prove a useful concept for ordering behavioral phenomena …” (p. 242). There are two problems in this approach to the definitional problem. First, although orienting and attending responses may be the common denominator of all the manifestations of dependency behavior, the same could be said of aggression, not to speak of sex. All of these activities involve proximity and orienting towards other individuals. The second difficulty arises from the reliance on socio-cultural values for providing the criteria of aggression and dependency. Their approach involves the danger of extreme cultural relativism, where the making of any cross-cultural generalizations are precluded. In addition, it assumes that within cultures or subcultures consensus exists on the various criteria. But if developmental and social psychologists constitute a sub-culture, in the sense of having characteristic attitudes and values, it is clear that, in the very area in which they would be thought to have consistent and clear-cut criteria, namely, on deciding whether a piece of behavior is dependent or aggressive, an appeal to the consensus of opinion results in failure. As the authors state earlier in their paper, Western psychologists often cannot decide whether a child’s behavior should be classified as dependent or aggressive. Thus, despite their several criticisms of the concepts of dependency and aggression as separate, learned drives, Walters and Parke still want to appeal to a supposed cultural or sub-cultural consensus on value for providing the criteria for the application of these terms. In the previous discussion of the courtship and “conflict” behavior of several animal species it was noted that much “irrelevant” or “incompatible” behavior appears contemporaneously with supposedly “relevant” activity. The parallels with human behavior are very striking. In the face of these points, and of course the fact that one cannot ask animals whether they are behaving “aggressively” or “affiliatively”, the inference to draw is not that better criteria are needed for distinguishing the various activities as they are presently described, but rather that they are simply not separate activities at all. Aggression as Stimulation-Seeking The eliciting conditions of aggression are not specific to aggression; nor is there convincing evidence for the existence of specific neural mechanisms underlying aggressive behavior. The occurrence of aggression is also highly correlated with other supposedly unrelated activities, and no special features or response patterns define (or help to identify) aggression independently of other forms of behavior. The characterization of behavior as aggressive is an arbitrary value-judgment that is largely influenced by the intensity or vigor of the behavior rather than by any specific features of the action. It is therefore concluded that aggression is not simply a vague

134


category but does not represent a distinct class of behavior or behaviors in the sense of having unique defining characteristics and specific eliciting conditions. No classification system exists for behavior in any way comparable to that existing for individual species in botany and zoology and for the chemical elements. Theory in the behavioral sciences has barely advanced beyond the level of commonsense – that is, the set of descriptive categories and explanations of actions which are more or less universally held. That the familiar behavioral categories – eating, drinking, aggression, sex, and so on – have survived so long is partly a testament to their utility. But the fact that the category of “aggression”, at least, is so elusive, and classificatory principles are lacking, suggests another reason for the longevity of the conventional categories. It is perhaps precisely because human beings have developed a set of workable concepts and “explanations”, which are rules-of-thumb rather than genuine theories, that we typically find few things about our behavior puzzling. It is only when things do not happen as expected that questions begin to be raised, or when the set of taken-for-granted categories and runic explanations is seriously probed – either by inquisitive children or social scientists. Thus, the range of activities thought worthy of investigation (that is, puzzling) in animal species is considerably wider than that in human beings. Serious ethological studies have been made on the “ordinary” activities of animals, but similar studies of humans are infrequent (Hutt and Hutt, 1970). Studies of “ordinary” human behavior are needed, in which problems are tackled with the same sort of naïve curiosity that etiologists adopt in studying animal behavior. My suggestion is that affiliation, eating, drinking and sexual activity are different manifestations of stimulation-seeking, as are so-called displacement activities. Now it is futher proposed that what has hitherto been described as aggressive behavior also constitutes intense stimulation-seeking. Biting, hitting, punching, scratching, kicking, and the like, all provide strong kinesthetic stimulation for the organism. Eating, sex, affiliation, head-banging and “aggression” would similarly be expected to reduce the level of arousal, at least in the short-term.2 2 Mason (1967) cites evidence that clinging is an arousal-reducing response and suggests that sucking, rocking and grooming have a similar function, and also appear when arousal is high. Prechtl (1968) made a computer analysis of polygraphic recording of various physiological parameters in human infants. One of his findings was that a tachycardia (increased heart rate) of 135-140 beats/minute occurs while the baby is sucking on the bottle. However, within a few minutes after food intake the heart rate becomes slower, then increases gradually until a new peak is reached about 30 minutes after feeding. Subsequently, the heart rate steadily declines until the next food is given; similar changes in respiration occur. At first, glance, smoking should also come under the category of stimulation-providing, and therefore an arousal-reducing activity, since it is a common observation that individuals light a cigarette in the same situations and conditions in which they engage in other forms of stimulationseeking. Cigarettes contain the stimulant nicotine, however. Frankenhaeuser et al. (1970) studied dosage and time effects of smoking in nine moderate smokers. The main effects of smoking were to increase adrenaline output, blood pressure, and heart rate, and to decrease skin temperature and hand steadiness. Peak effects occurred at the first trial after smoking,

Aggression

135

There is some evidence that this is the case. Hokanson and Shetler (1961) measured systolic blood pressure in their subjects before frustrating them, after the frustration manipulation, and once again after the subjects had had an opportunity to express aggression physically towards either a low or a high-status experimenter by giving him electric shocks. The results showed that “frustration” increased systolic blood pressure compared with controls, and expressing aggression towards the lowstatus experimenter reduced systolic blood pressure while the latter remained high in the absence of an opportunity to express aggression. With regard to the high-status experimenter, however, the systolic blood pressure declined in time irrespective of the opportunity to express aggression. It is a familiar notion that aggression reduces arousal, and this forms the basis of certain popular methods of psychotherapy. One is said to “act out” one’s aggression by punching dummies, pillows and the like. As mentioned earlier, hydraulic metaphors are used to describe the notion of “getting rid” of aggression. We are said to feel better for “blowing our top” or “letting off steam”; and we are advised not to “bottle up” tension and other aggressive feelings. Aggressive acting-out may at times have a temporary cathartic effect, but there are easier and safer ways to achieve it. Indeed, far from reducing arousal, the social consequences of outwardly expressed aggression can of course be disastrous for the subject (and object) and have the very opposite emotional effect. Aggression and Panic Panic behaviors are of two general classes: wild running (and other agitated activity), and immobility reactions. These behaviors are described, respectively, as stimulation-seeking behavior and stimulation-avoidance. Intense stimulationseeking behavior can be expressed in violent attack, which may be directed at others

after which there was a general gradual return to baseline levels which, nevertheless, were not reached within a 90-minute period. The implications of these findings for the theory advanced here are unclear. On the basis of the common observation that sweets, chewing gum or other activity providing oral stimulation is frequently used as an alternative to cigarettes, we might speculate that the arousal-increasing effects of cigarette smoking are rather less important than the oral and internal stimulation they provide. On the other hand, those who smoke cigarettes with a high nicotine content are notoriously dissatisfied with mild cigarettes, suggesting that the sensations derived from cigarettes actually serve to increase rather than reduce arousal. In fact, not all studies report heart rate increases in response to smoking. A search of the literature showed that the pulse rate increased according to 95 publications published between 1863 and 1959; there was no change in heart rate according to 12 studies published between 1880 and 1955; and pulse rate declined according to 11 reports published between 1913 and 1955 (Larson et al., 1961). Erwin (1971) used radio telemetry techniques to monitor heart rate in 10 ambulant subjects for a total of 26 hours. Smoking was spontaneous in initiation and rate, and altogether 50 cigarettes were smoked. No changes in heart rate were found before, during or after smoking which could be attributed to the cigarette.

136


or at the individual himself, resulting in death or severe self-mutilation. It may also take the form of “flight”, a category we discuss in detail in subsequent chapters. On a common sense interpretation, aggression and flight seem incompatible with each other. But both forms of activity produce strong sensory input through contact between the body and external surfaces. Physiologically, “fear” and “anger” have not been convincingly shown to correlate with different autonomic or biochemical responses, nor is it necessarily the case that anger leads to aggression and fear to flight. A battle charge can be accompanied or motivated by extreme terror. What often differentiates flight and aggression (on the battlefield) is the social definition or evaluation of the action rather than any intrinsic differences between them. In one, the behavior is socially approved; whereas in the other it meets with derision and disapproval. Examples can be cited of how the same individuals or combat units can show courage or fear, attack or retreat, flight or fight, in close succession. L’Etang (1966: 284) states that “… troops who are on the brink of panic and who are losing their identity as soldiers, may be unduly susceptible to firm leadership”. Perhaps it would be fair to add: susceptible to make sudden charges as well as to flee. Meerloo (1950: 17) emphasizes that panic and courage are both contagious, and can make temporary heroes out of everyone. Diethelm (1934: 1295–1297), writes: Individual panics were frequently observed in troops in the trenches which had been exposed to prolonged shell-fire. Action releases the tensions, and the counterpart of panic is seen in cases of “pathological bravery.” Cases have been described of men who have been cited for bravery and who, at other times, under similar conditions, went into a panic. (italics added)

Later, he goes on to say (pp. 1300–1301): Under the constant influence of shell explosions, forced to accept the situation passively and without any possibility for counter-action, a person develops a tension which gradually diminishes his self-confidence … Increasing acuity of hearing and sensitiveness to noises, a bitter taste in the mouth, nauseating sensations in mouth and stomach, a feeling of pressure in the stomach and diarrhea characterize the further increase in tension … The climax is an outburst of frightened activity which may lead to aggression or flight. Such a soldier suddenly jumps from the trenches towards the enemy, believing that the signal to attack has been given or that his troops have been attacked by the enemy. Visual or auditory illusions and hallucinations may influence him in such a fear state. Many will run blindly without being able to consider the most reasonable way of escape.

Finally, he notes (p. 1312): “courage born of fear is well-known among soldiers”. Munson (1921: 85), in his book The Management of Men, points out that: “The same troops which won the battle of Wagram by their heroic fighting were seized with panic that same day towards evening and ran away without any real cause.” An example of a military panic which took the form of men in the same units opening fire on each other and rushing about wildly, is provided by Colonel Lanham (1937: 275):

Aggression

137

August 15, 1866: The 34th Infantry, part of the Austrian rear guard, is falling back after the catastrophe at Koniggratz. The men are exhausted and frightened. Again and again they have been forced to form squares and withstand the harassing action of hostile cavalry. Late in the afternoon a dust cloud is seen whirling towards the regiment. The cry goes up, “The German cavalry is charging!” The order is given to form squares, but panic suddenly sweeps through the command. Formations disintegrate. Units open fire on each other. Men run in all directions. Even after it is discovered that the dust cloud was caused by the movement of a herd of frightened pigs, and not by the German cavalry, order is restored only with the utmost difficulty.

Finally, a quotation from Marshall (1947: 182) is apposite. As the events of contact and collision move men into battle, playing upon their fears and hopes, tricking their imagination, inviting then repelling their initiative … the same group of soldiers may act like lions and then like scared hares within the passage of a few minutes.

In summary, it is proposed that stimulation-seeking behaviors form a continuous spectrum of intensity, starting with mild forms such as drumming the fingers, “popping” the finger joints, nail-biting, shaking the foot, smoking, over-eating, and then moving progressively to stronger forms such as stamping the feet, lashing out at others, pulling the hair, head-banging, manic activity, frantic running, and severe self-mutilation. Likewise, wild running (as in “flight”) and violent attack can be considered intense expressions of stimulation-seeking. In both, considerable sensory stimulation comes from vigorous bodily contact, for example, the feet with the ground, and from the movements of the joints. Stamping the feet, striking oneself or someone else, or wild running, are all functionally equivalent in the sense of providing strong sensory stimulation. The point on the continuum at which “panic” occurs is arbitrary, and the negative connotations of panic have obscured the similarity of supposedly “opposite” behaviors such as attack and flight. “Pathological bravery” in battle has a group counterpart in cases of impetuous charges against the enemy, when in fact the probability of flight would be equally likely. If the officer, the visible symbol of leadership, had run forward, the men would have followed, and it would have been an heroic battle charge. If, on the other hand, the officer had run to the rear, the men would also have followed, and it would have been described as “panic”. I expand on these ideas in subsequent chapters. Aggression and flight, then, are not fundamentally different kinds of behavior: both are forms of stimulation-seeking. Physiologically, both occur at the same high level of arousal; fear and anger are rarely “pure emotions”, subjectively speaking; they appear not to correlate with distinctive physiological responses; in both states the pupils are dilated and skin sensitivity is markedly increased through sweating; the sensitivity of other sensory modalities is also increased. In addition – and this point is discussed below – “flight” can simultaneously be a form of approach behavior, that is, approach to a person or some other “haven of safety”, to use the phrase of Harlow and Zimmerman (1959).

138


Of course, many questions remain to be answered. Aggression and flight may both be forms of stimulation-seeking, but what determines the direction these responses take? What determines the choice of external objects from which stimulation is sought? Why is aggression sometimes directed at the self rather than external objects? On the direction of stimulation-seeking, it is recalled that Schaffer and Emerson (1964) found that attachments were formed to those objects in the infant’s environment that provided the most stimulation. It would consequently be expected that the general direction of stimulation-seeking would be toward objects providing stimulation. Every schoolboy knows that when the schoolmaster is angry, anyone who makes a movement will be the object of attack. The same applies to soldiers on parade in the presence of a tyrannical Sergeant Major. Similarly, carnivores attack (that is, seek stimulation from) colorful, moving objects. The makers of fishing tackle implicitly rely on this principle for the manufacture and sale of colorful, shiny metal spinners. In an experiment with cats, Levison and Flynn (1965) found that stimulation of parts of the hypothalamus elicited direct attack. The probability of attack was very low, however, when the objects available for attack were blocks of foam rubber, and very high when an unanaesthetised rat was present. These findings can be interpreted in a similar way to the above. The foam rubber blocks provided very little stimulation for the aroused cats, whereas the unanaesthetised rat provided a considerable amount of stimulation. It has been reported that three-week-old chicks treated with androgen showed aggressive pecking, jumping and foot-striking. At times the chicks directed aggressive pecks at certain objects, especially if they were pointed or shiny, such as metal objects, the bill of a stuffed pigeon and snout of a stuffed weasel (Salzen, 1966). All of these activities of the chicks can be understood in terms of stimulationseeking. Cannon and Salzen (1971) commented that the “aggressive pecking pattern is innately organized and directed to stimulus properties that are presented by the head of another chick, the bill, and in general, contrasting focal points at a certain height and especially if moving”. The difficulty is that these are also the properties that elicit approach behavior in general in neonate chicks (F.V. Smith, 1969). It is more likely, and more parsimonious, to suggest that they are approached and pecked because they provide a measure of stimulation appropriate to the chicks’ level of arousal at that time. Similarly, the colorful plumages and changes in pigmentation which occur in many species during mating may serve to attract the opposite sex whose behavior, by virtue of increased gonadotrophin output (associated with arousal), is characterized by various manifestations of increased stimulation-seeking. In contrast, immobility (“freezing”) responses in animals faced with a predator would lower the probability of attack from the predator, because the immobilized animal would provide little stimulation (see Chapter 16). So far, we have dwelt exclusively on quantitative aspects of stimulation-seeking. But, as emphasized in Part II, stimulation-seeking can be considered a “matching” mechanism; that is, it serves to provide stimulation which corresponds not merely to the intensity of incongruity, but input which is congruous with that represented in the organism’s cognitive map of its environment. Affiliative behavior, for instance, is not directed, under most circumstances, to any source of stimulation, but to a particular source, such as familiar territory, persons and objects. This (directional) aspect of stimulation-seeking is the topic to which we now turn.

Chapter 12

The Social Context of Panic

I hold it to be one of the simplest truths of war that the thing which enables an infantry soldier to keep going is the presence of a comrade. The warmth which derives from human companionship is as essential to his employment of the arms with which he fights as in the finger with which he pulls the trigger … The other man may be almost beyond hailing or seeing distance, but he must be there somewhere within a man’s consciousness or the onset of demoralization is almost immediate and very quickly the mind begins to despair or turns to thoughts of escape. (S. L. A. Marshall, Man Against Fire, 1947, p. 42)

“Flight” and “fight” responses are not incompatible with each other; both are manifestations of intense stimulation-seeking. Physical aggression involves proximity with other individuals and is therefore simultaneously “affiliative” – albeit highly intense affiliative behavior! Similarly, flight can be simultaneously affiliative – a fact that has been neglected both in the conventional antithesis of approachavoidance and in the literature on panic, as discussed below. A notable exception, however, is Bowlby (1960a: 9), whose observation – “animals escape not only from situations, but to situations” – provides the main theme of Part III. Salzen (1962) also points out that the locomotory activities of searching, flight or escape “all serve to move the organism from areas of strange, to areas of familiar stimulation, and are more likely to represent a single response mechanism …” (p. 213). To review briefly the main conclusions reached with respect to approach and avoidance behavior at the end of Chapter 8, it was suggested that if one regarded the living organism as a homeostatic (that is, self-equilibrating) system, then it did not make sense to ask whether corrections for deviation from expected values (that is, the cognitive map) constituted “escape” from the measured or actual value, or “approach” to the expected values. We suggested that these were merely two ways of looking at the same negative-feedback mechanism. Similarly, we argued that an animal (or human’s) approach or escape behaviors were not fundamentally different things, based on different principles, but two ways of looking at the same stimulation-seeking behavior. Both were ways of looking at the same negativefeedback mechanism, elicited as a result of mismatch with the cognitive map (that is, perceived incongruity) and subsequently increased arousal. Here it is suggested that “panics”, so-called, are as much “approach” behaviors as they are “escape” behaviors, in other words, that panic can take the form of affiliative behavior. It needs to be borne in mind that the intensity of stimulationseeking at which “panic” occurs is arbitrary. Panic is an evaluative label attached to very intense stimulation-seeking behavior; it is the suddenness and intensity of the

140


behavior that evokes the label “panic”; and there is no set of principles which explain panic as opposed to other, highly emotional forms of behavior (that is, occurring at high levels of arousal). The study of approach and avoidance behavior has been conducted in what might be described as a social vacuum. Individual animals have been placed in laboratory test runs of mazes and their responses to various stimuli have been observed. This procedure neglects the fact that the experimental conditions and the experimenter himself are stimuli imposing themselves on the animal in addition to the “official” stimuli presented to the animal. Liddell (1960), for example, reports that dogs and pigs are “too complicated” as laboratory animals, while the rabbit is “too simple”. In the case of dogs and pigs, the experimenter-animal relationship is vital. The dog tries to help and understand the experimenter, while the pig stubbornly refuses to cooperate! As a result, Liddell decided to work with sheep and goats in his studies on experimental neurosis. The latter show some degree of confidence and dependence on the experimenter, but this is readily given up. Apart from a brief period of dependence on the mother in newborn sheep and goats, “loneliness as a psychosocial stress factor does not exist”. Paradoxically, however, it was through experiments on these very animals that Liddell came to broaden his conception of Pavlovian conditioning; for he was able to conclude that the effect of simply removing newborn lambs from the mother was a far greater stress than the conditioning procedure. Prolonged conditioning in adult sheep and goats inevitably produced neurotic illness, but it did not shorten the usual life span of 10–15 years. Yet when lambs were separated from their mothers soon after birth, and subjected to conditioning in isolation, death resulted within a year. In a previous experiment, Liddell also found that lambs and kids subjected to conditioning in the presence of the mother appeared to show little, if any, distress, whereas animals subjected to the procedure in isolation soon developed an “experimental neurosis”. The social context is a vital consideration in the study of emotional behavior, but it is chiefly to naturalistic observations that we must look for data. Human combat, for example, provides what might be described as a “naturally-occurring stress laboratory” (Bourne, 1970). Although serious panic on the battlefield is uncommon, the actual incidence (judging by official reports) may be higher for, as L’Etang (1966: 278) notes, “there is a universal and patriotic tendency to conceal or suppress the details of panic”: He continues: Panic is a subject that is only mentioned with reluctance and distaste. Fear and cowardice are bad enough; but men who give way to their fears and affect their comrades forfeit both consideration and understanding. Few men, however, go through life without moments of panic; yet alarm over a sick child, or loss of savings, is better tolerated by others than alarm on the battlefield. It is possible that the knowledge of their own imperfections makes men markedly intolerant of those who give way and has prevented an adequate discussion of the causes, treatment and prevention of panic.

Similarly, a military writer using the pseudonym of Mercutio (1943: 264) comments:


141

There is no more terrible word in the military lexicon than “panic,” nor is there one so universally ignored. The reason for this strange conspiracy of silence lies in the fact that the compilers of official histories apparently confuse panic with cowardice; national pride does the rest. Therefore, the little factual evidence available on this topic is almost entirely limited to unofficial and not particularly trustworthy sources.

Given these considerable methodological difficulties, we shall advance our case by piecing together numerous observations obtained from a wide variety of sources. Taken as a whole, the data support the argument. Many examples have already been cited, showing that men and animals remain relatively calm in the face of external danger if they are in the presence of familiars. Under conditions defined by them as stressful (that is, incongruous), individuals become increasingly affiliative, seeking stimulation from those to whom they are closely attached. Groups of individuals so constituted manifest a heightened solidarity, that is, increased “we-feeling”, comradeship or morale. In the military, the importance of morale is recognized as a factor inhibiting panic (Janis, 1963). In one of the classic studies on the importance of morale for the effectiveness of fighting units, Shils and Janowitz (1948) attempted to determine why the army in World War II had fought so stubbornly right up to the end of the war. They write (p. 280): Although distinctly outnumbered and in a strategic sense quantitatively inferior in equipment, the German Army, on all fronts, maintained a high degree of organizational integrity and fighting effectiveness through a series of almost unbroken retreats over a period of several years.

This extraordinary tenacity of the German Army had usually been attributed to the political convictions of the soldiers. Shils and Janowitz, however, suggest that the unity of the army resulted from “the steady satisfaction of certain primary personality demands afforded by the social organization of the army” (p. 281). They suggest that the soldier’s ability to resist was mainly a function of “the capacity of his immediate primary group to avoid social disintegration” (p. 281). Their data were based on front-line interrogation of prisoners of war and intensive psychological interviews in rear areas. Documents captured from the enemy, statements of recaptured Allied military personnel and reports of combat observers were also studied. All their evidence pointed to the fact that, for the vast majority of soldiers, preoccupation with political values played a very minor part in sustaining their motivation for combat. Much more important for the individual soldier was that he felt he was a member of a squad or section with whose leaders he could identify and from whose members he could receive and give affection in return. Thus, as long as he felt himself a member of his primary group and therefore bound by the expectations and demands of its other members, his soldierly achievement was likely to be good. (p. 284)

Shils and Janowitz also point out that in the army, isolated from civilian primary groups, the soldier comes to depend more and more on his military primary group.


142

At the same time, those units with a high degree of “primary group integrity” had a low desertion rate and there were few individually-contrived surrenders. Conversely, sample interviews with Wehrmacht deserters made in North Africa in 1943 and in France and Germany in 1944 and 1945, showed that the vast majority had failed to be assimilated into primary groups. The grounds for desertion were chiefly such factors as language difficulties (for Austrians, Czechs and Poles), bitter resentment against their coerced condition, and the unfriendliness of the Germans in their units. Deserters tended to be men who had difficulty in personal adjustment and had shown the same difficulties in civilian life. Strange (1969) similarly found that American soldiers in Vietnam with a prior history of difficulty in “adapting to society” before enlistment were more likely to fail to adapt in the combat situation. The German general staff took care to ensure that groups who had experienced a victory together should not be dissolved and should be maintained as units as long as possible. When deterioration in group solidarity in the Wehrmacht did begin to occur towards the very end of the war, it occurred usually in units which had been hastily constructed, units which consisted of “new recruits, dragooned stragglers, air force men who had been forced into the infantry (and who felt a loss of status in the changes) … older factory workers, concentration camp inmates and older married men who had been kept in reserve throughout this war …” (p. 283; see also Marshall, 1947: 151ff.). Their main conclusion was that the “primary group” character of the military unit, not loyalty to Nazi politics or ideals, was the chief factor sustaining the German soldier throughout and, most dramatically, towards the end of the war. The truth of this point has been reaffirmed and amplified in other studies.1 Grinker and Spiegel (1945a: 23–24), make these comments about American bomber crews: As with any team, the center of activity shifts from one crewmate to another in accordance with the combat situation. At one time, it may be the waist gunner, at another, the tail gunner, upon whose skills and courage depend the lives of all the others … All members of the crew are dependent on each other to an unusual degree … it is no wonder then that the emotional relationships among these fliers assume a special character. The men and their plane become identified with each other with an intensity that in civil life is found only within the family circle.

Irving Janis, a co-author of the distinguished survey on The American Soldier (Stouffer et al., 1949), has contributed extensively to this topic. Evidence gained from the latter study showed that “the average soldier’s willingness to engage in hazardous combat duty depended largely on group identification” (Janis, 1963: 227). 1

Phillips (1943: 304–305) writes: “it is obvious that man is not led by reward and punishment. He cares more for the opinion of his group than of either. He will risk his life for a loved commander, for a comrade, for the respect of his organization, but not for fear of courtmartial.” Marshall (1947: 150) also observes that: “It is therefore to be noted as a principle that, all other things being equal, the tactical unity of men working together in combat will be in the ratio of their knowledge and sympathetic understanding of each other.”


143

Time and time again, Janis states, cases presented themselves of men who had failed to act in accordance with their own interests in order to avoid separation from the unit or guilt about “letting the other guys down”. Soldiers would sometimes refuse a promotion if it entailed being allocated to a new unit, and men who were physically sick or suffering from acute anxiety avoided reporting sick, with its attendant possibility of being separated from the group (Janis and Leventhal, 1968: 1061ff.). High morale is associated with lowered physical casualty rates even in noncombat situations (Stouffer et al., 1949). As mentioned in Chapter 7, Glass (1954) reported that if psychiatric battle casualties could be kept with their units in the battle zone, the rate of return to combat was much higher than if they were evacuated and given intensive psychotherapy. In summary, there is much evidence for it to be reasonably concluded that the fighting effectiveness of the combat soldier depends heavily on the maintenance of affectional or “primary” ties with his unit. The most extreme stresses, even death, can be calmly faced if the individual is not separated from his fellows, and morale is high. During the sinking of the Titanic, for example, perfect order was maintained. “Ladies first” was the last order which the captain, his disciplined crew and collected passengers all repeated (Armstrong-Jones, 1917). LaPiere (1938: 458–459) writes: Much was said, at the time, of the heroic behavior of the men who went down singing with the Titanic. On her maiden voyage in April, 1912, this ship struck an iceberg and went down within two hours. Although the sea was calm, although 2 hours should have been ample time for the orderly filling and launching of them, only 700 passengers all told were taken off in boats which had a capacity of 1,176. Women were put to sea in undermanned boats and men went down with the ship.

In 1910 a Japanese submarine sank to the bottom of Hiroshima bay. The crew realized that death was inevitable, but there was no panic. Records of the last few minutes were later recovered, revealing that every man had remained at his post and the captain had recorded all incidents up to the time of his death (Baldwin, 1955). Similar behavior can be found in the records of trapped miners (see for example, New York Times, 31 March 1947, p. 8, cited in Burns and Kimura, 1963: 170). In the presence of strangers, however, external threat can have a devastating effect. Examples of panic in the military are recorded in which it has been suggested that the absence of morale caused by recently enlisted or heterogeneous elements was a strong contributory factor. In 1896 Italy invaded Abyssinia with an army of 15,000 men. The opposing forces consisted of a savage horde of spearmen, about 100,000 strong. The night before the battle of Adowa, the Italian army had struggled through wild, mountainous passes. Men had straggled, columns drifted apart and at dawn the Italians were divided into three groups, out of effective supporting distance and separated by deep ravines. Colonel Lanham (1943: 288) writes: with a wild shout the Abyssians advanced to the assault. The Italian artillery immediately went into action, but, owing to the badly accidented terrain, it was unable to determine the

correct range. Its fire was altogether ineffective, and the hostile charge continued uninterrupted. As the tribesman swept up the slope panic struck the Italian

144


group. The man flung away their rifles and raced toward the center. Officers who attempted to halt the mad flight were clubbed down or shot. The center was swept away in the insane rush … On the surface, Lanham suggests, there appeared to be no psychological causes of the disaster. It seemed to have been merely “one more instance of that blind and unpredictable terror to which man in the mass is subject” (p. 278). However, it emerged that the Italian force was made up of small detachments detailed from various home regiments. Officers, non-commissioned officers and soldiers were comparative strangers to each other, and the artillery had never worked with the infantry. Consequently, mutual trust, confidence and understanding were absent. The Italian force lacked from its inception “those moral attributes which differentiate an army from a crowd” (p. 279). On 1 August 1904, the Russian 140th Infantry Regiment and a rifle brigade were encamped near Haitshong, some miles from the front. The main Russian army lay between them and the Japanese, and local outposts provided further security. Surprise was virtually impossible and the troops were fully rested. Both units were welltrained and both had had combat experience. Shortly after dusk on 1 August several soldiers from the rifle brigade went into a nearby rice-field to relieve themselves. Lanham (1943: 279) continues: One of these men, while in an awkward position, apparently saw something that frightened him. He leaped up and rushed back to the camp shouting. “The Japanese are coming!” Panic was instantaneous in the rifle brigade. Men grabbed their rifles and fired in all directions. In a few minutes the entire brigade was reaching to the rear in two streams, one toward the camp of the corps trains near Haitshong, the other toward the camp of the 140th Infantry Regiment. Panic struck the corps trains even before the screaming wave of terror-stricken soldiers rolled over them … This portion of the brigade was not rallied for days. The part of the brigade that ran towards the camp of the 140th infantry met with a different reception. The colonel … heard the firing … and promptly ordered his buglers to sound the call to arms. The men fell into ranks quietly and without disorder, they ignored the panic-stricken members of the brigade who were streaming past them. The sight of this regiment, calm and unperturbed, served to allay the imaginary fears of this part of the brigade, which at once became quiet and orderly.

Lanham’s discussion of this panic admirably illustrates the point about the importance of morale for combat effectiveness. He begins by comparing the rifle brigade with the 140th Infantry Regiment. Outwardly, both units were the same: both were wellfed, well equipped, well trained, and both had had combat experience. Moreover, in common with the rest of the Russian army, both felt a deep sense of pessimism as a result of repeated Japanese victories. There the similarity ends: for in spite of its pessimism the morale of the 140th was high. The colonel was admired and respected. The other brigade was “noted for the dissension and petty feuds among its officers; dissatisfaction was constantly in evidence. Esprit de corps was nonexistent” (p. 180).


145

A further aspect of morale or group solidarity is leadership. Many authors have mentioned loss of confidence in leaders as a factor influencing the likelihood of panic (see, for example, Andrews, 1920; Freud, 1922, Maxwell, 1923; Rickman, 1938; Schmideberg, 1939; Lanham, 1943; Strauss, 1944; Smelser, 1963; Schultz, 1964b; Stouffer et al., 1949; Janis, 1963). Janis (1963) vividly describes the emotional tone which pervades the relationship between officers and men in combat situations, a theme originally developed by Freud (1922) under the heading of “transference reactions”. Freud’s view was that a “libidinal bond” develops between leader and led, in which the leader takes the place of the parent for the ordinary soldier and becomes idealized in the same way that a child idealizes a parent. Janis describes how he was impressed by “manifestations of unconscious dependency needs not only among combat soldiers but also among civilians when they were exposed to the warning of wartime bombing attacks or peacetime disasters, or the more personalized threats of illness and surgery” (p. 228). He suggests that this phenomenon can be described as the “reactivation of separation anxiety” such as a child experiences when separated from a parent. These fears persist in latent form throughout life, and become reactivated in times of great danger. When this occurs, individuals “seek to be reassured that the significant persons in their lives will not leave them or break pre-existing affectional ties” (p. 225, italics added). Fear-ridden dependency of this kind is likely to be developed towards any authority figure in times of crisis. There is also a tendency to over-idealize these figures and to misperceive them in various ways and to exaggerate their power. Individuals become extremely sensitive to the leader’s demands, “continually attempting to do and say things that will please him, reacting with bitter disappointment of any apparent slights, and becoming depressed or aggrieved whenever they are not in communication with him” (p. 229; cf. Bettelheim, 1960; Tyhurst, 1951). Feelings of affection towards the leader are also likely to be augmented whenever a group is socially isolated. Combat troops provide a case in point. Removed from his parents, siblings and friends, the soldier is likely to treat the commander like his father and his comrades like his brothers. As Freud (1922: 26) pointed out about the army, “every captain is, as it were, the Commander-in-Chief and the father of his company, and so is every other non-commissioned officer in his company.” Janis points out that, according to morale surveys in World War II, many soldiers were reluctant to be allocated to another unit because they felt safer with their own group. As one combat veteran said about his own group: “it gives you more guts to be with them” (p. 230). The expression of such feelings, Janis argues, cannot be explained simply by the actual protection which a soldier is given by the men in his own unit. Rather, “external threats foster increased reliance on the group by arousing a variety of basic psychological needs for reassurance, some of which are, of course, preconscious or unconscious” (p. 230).2 2 Corroborative material on the importance of leadership can be found in military sources. Colonel Phillips (1943: 292) writes, “Leadership is the most important function in the exercise of command. Generalship and management, to a large degree, can be entrusted to

146


Phillips (1943) divides military leaders into three principal classes: (1) The Institutional Leader, who exercises control by rank or position, that is, by the prestige and legal authority attached to this office. All Army officers are institutional leaders. (2) The Small-Group Leader, who acts on individuals and is in close daily contact with them. He is represented in the Army by the captains, lieutenants and noncommissioned officers. (3) The Mass Leader, who impresses and dominates by virtue of his character and other personal qualities, and by his ability to mould and control the minds of large groups without having intimate personal contact with them individually. All regimental and higher commanders, Phillips points out, should be leaders of this type.3 Newly elevated generals react in one of several ways. One may, as the French put it, swallow his sabre, and spend his time making routine inspections and distributing punishments. Another may withdraw into god-like seclusion and untouchability. Others remain as they were – company commanders, but now of divisions. A very few, however, discover, develop and use the techniques of mass leadership and “are rewarded with devotion that knows no bounds – that stops at no sacrifices” (ibid.: 291). The complete development of the institutional leader, however, is the very antithesis of the mass leader, who is self-asserting, original and endowed with a high degree of initiative. He will often be a “thorn in the sides of many among the superior institutional leaders who predominate in a hierarchical organization” (p. 293). Institutional leadership, at its worst, breeds the martinet. “In the growl of one colonel, ‘I have been taking it for thirty years, and now I am going to dish it out,’ is summed up all the repressions and decay of institutional leadership” (p. 293). Important as it is to take account of different types of leaders, the key point is that in combat, as in other stressful conditions, men place their trust and confidence in their fellows, but especially in their leaders. The desire for a superior on whom to rely expresses itself in hero worship, in constantly seeking guidance, in the faith given to political messiahs, and in the army, by love and devotion to commanders. According to Phillips, all great military and political leaders have been “mass leaders”, able to inspire devotion and enthusiasm among their followers. Napoleon, Marmont, McCellan, Grant, Mangin, Petain, Barbot, and many other military leaders

a competent staff. But the eyes of the men are always turned upward, and no one can exercise leadership for the commander. ‘Technique and tactics,’ Foch said, ‘That is the business of staffs.’” 3 Note the close similarity between Phillips’ typology of leaders, and Max Weber’s (1947: 329–340) types of authority. Phillips’ institutional leader corresponds to Weber’s legalistic authority; the small-group leader to traditional authority, and the mass leader to Weber’s charismatic authority – that is, authority based on personal, awe-inspiring qualities.


147

of comparatively recent times, all had the qualities of mass leadership – the ability to arouse hero-worship and unbounded devotion in their soldiers. It is clear, then, that in the military as well as in other social units or institutions, the individual is very much part of a particular social context, and his behavior has to be understood in relation to this context. Before discussing panic itself (in subsequent chapters), some words are necessary to convey the feelings of men immediately before and during combat; for, as Armstrong-Jones (1917: 372) eloquently pointed out during World War I: To us at home, it is unimaginable and inconceivable what proximity to the continued stress of high explosives must mean. We are terrified sometimes by the feeble backfiring of a motor car, or from the noise of a burst tire, and we recoil petulantly and write to the Times when a maid whistles for a taxi – because of the strain and shock to our nerves! Let us try and faintly realize the terrifying strain that must be endured by our soldiers at the front!

Similarly, Marshall (1947: 141) writes: Man is a gregarious animal. He wants company. In his hour of greatest danger his herd instinct drives him towards his fellows. It is a source of comfort to him to be near another man; it makes danger more endurable …

Phillips (1943: 28) also describes how, as battle approaches the tension mounts: The prospect of death looms large to the soldier, instinctively he returns to his officers for guidance and reassurance. If at these critical times an officer betrays confusion, excitement, fear or loss of confidence, that impression, whether it be real or imaginary, is instantly spread among his men with disastrous results.

Tischler (1969, cited in Bourne, 1970: 484) described how arrival in Vietnam produced considerable anxiety for the recruit and a sense of helplessness, engendered both by cultural stock and the uncertainty of the combat zone. Most newly arrived soldiers tended to adopt one of three ways of coping with the new environment: 1) fusion with a group, 2) searching for an authority figure to provide a sense of order and security, and 3) flight into work. For most of the men who went to Vietnam, however, their main preoccupation and conceptualization of the war was the oneyear tour of duty. For “the universal objective, barring death or injury, is the personal DEROS – Date Expected to Return from Overseas – a day known exactly to each man from the moment he arrives in Vietnam” (Bourne, 1970: 485).


Chapter 13

Panic Flight as Affiliative Behavior Under the stress of impending combat men draw closer together, solidarity or morale increases, and leaders are turned to for guidance and affection. These facts have long been recognized but a comprehensive explanatory theory has been lacking. There has also been little acknowledgement of the roles of stress and solidarity in mass panic, apart from the belief held by some authors that panics are often caused by the “breakdown of solidarity” and loss of confidence in leaders. Here it is suggested that certain panics constitute “panics of affiliation”; that is, in certain circumstances “flight” behavior takes the form of attempts to affiliate with or stay close to leaders and companions. In terms of the present theory, the flight of one or more men – but especially the flight of officers – constitutes massive incongruity for the observer. This leads to increased arousal and intense stimulationseeking, expressed in attempts to follow and remain close to those who started to run. Let us consider the evidence for this view, and then discuss various objections and alternative theories. The last chapter dwelt at length on the quality of the relationships which develop between officers and men, described variously as “primary bonds” (Shils and Janowitz, 1948), heightened solidarity, or morale. In an unfamiliar environment, away from family and friends, and faced with the possibility of serious injury or death, it is almost trite to infer that soldiers will be anxiously aroused. Since they are in the constant presence of others in their unit, the theory suggests that individuals will form cognitive maps of each other; in other words, attachments will be formed. The greater the stress (“incongruity”) and the higher the level of arousal, the greater will be the intensity of stimulation-seeking. In combat itself, stimulation-seeking, expressed as increased affiliative behavior (“bunching”), is likely be to be markedly increased, with a corresponding increase in susceptibility to social influence. The constellation of group behaviors in combat are identical to those discussed in Chapter 9 on the relationship between stimulation-seeking and group dynamics. Phillips (1943: 295) lists these characteristics as follows: (a) intolerance of opinions that differ from those of the group. (b) fearfulness of solitude, (c) sensitiveness to the habits and customs of the groups, (d) subjection to the opinions of the herd, (e) susceptibility to leadership, and (f) relationships with comrades depend upon being recognized as a member of the herd.

150


Thus Marshall (1947: 145), on the basis of his experience in World War II, describes how troops will bunch together on the battlefield: Troops will always let down at every opportunity … they will always bunch unless they are insistently told by voice to stop bunching. They will always run if they see others running and do not understand why. (italics added)

Here it is suggested that unexplained flight to the rear by an officer or comrade constitutes massive “incongruity” for those who witness the action, and that their subsequent flight in his direction (that is, “panic”) is a stimulation-seeking, negativefeedback response designed to restore congruity by following and remaining close to the officer. The panicking individuals are seeking to recreate congruity in their cognitive maps by remaining in close proximity to the sources of stimulation (the leader/officer) on which their cognitive maps are based. In fact, the incongruity represented by the officer’s flight may be even more arousing than that of combat itself. It is recalled that Liddell’s (1960) lambs and kids were more likely to succumb to an experimental neurosis if they were separated from their mothers than if subjected to the conditioning procedure in their mothers’ presence. Similarly, Lynch (1970) reported that if a dog was given electric shocks in the presence of a person with whom he had associated being petted, the dog’s heart rate accelerated markedly. Lynch’s comment (p. 236), that “anthropomorphically, it was almost as if the shock hurt the dog much more because he did not ‘expect’ to be shocked in the situation” – seems particularly applicable in the combat situation; that is, the soldier did not expect to be “abandoned” in combat. Consider, first, some of the evidence relating to animals. Bowlby (1960a: 9) has written: Young animals also escape to a situation. In their case, however, the situation is often not a particular place but another animal – usually the mother. This is true of individuals of many genera, from fish to primates. The human toddler escapes from a situation which has frightened him to his mother … Probably for all, the haven of safety which terminates escape responses and brings a sense of security is proximity to mother.

Bowlby goes on to note that in most species of bird and mammal, the young show signs of anxiety when removed from parents. “The ‘lost piping’ of young ducklings who have become attached to and have temporarily lost a mother figure is a familiar example” (p. 12). The escape responses of young animals, he suggests, tend to become directed to a particular object, usually the mother. Harlow and Zimmerman (1959), who coined the phrase “haven of safety”, found in the course of their experiments on rhesus monkeys reared with surrogate mothers that infants always rushed to them when frightened. Similarly, Munson (1921: 161) points out that “the sheep cut off from the flock makes mad efforts to rejoin it”. Separation, therefore, or the threat of separation (a form of incongruity), creates intense affiliative behavior – a point which has been documented many times in this work. I am suggesting that it also occurs, at times, on the battlefield, where men

Panic Flight as Affiliative Behavior

151

have formed close attachments to each other and to their leaders. Certain military panics, therefore, may take this essentially “affiliative” form in response to perceived separation. There is, however, little direct evidence to support this hypothesis. The possibility does not seem to have been considered hitherto by military observers or social scientists. I will present some suggestive case studies and offer several lines of corroborative evidence. First, consider two historical examples. Armstrong-Jones (1917: 375), recalling the naval battle at Actium, 31 BC between Cleopatra and Marc Antony on one side and Augustus Caesar on the other, writes: The fleet of Cleopatra was twice as numerous as that of Caesar, but just at the decisive point panic-fear seized upon Cleopatra while in no actual personal danger, and she took to flight. The whole Egyptian squadron followed suit, and Antony, seeing Cleopatra pursued, yielded the victory to Caesar. The effect of this panic proved to be the ruin of Antony and Cleopatra, and Egypt from that time became a Roman province. … At the battle of Issus, 333 BC, a town on the borders of Syria, in Sicilia, fought between Alexander the Great and Darius, King of the Persians, Darius leapt from his chariot in a fit of panic, fearing to fall into the hands of the enemy. The troops, observing this, also fled and threw down their arms and made off. In this battle was decided not only the fall of Darius, but also the ruin of his empire. (p. 377)

In both instances the flight of the leader precipitated panic flight in the ranks. But was the panic affiliative? Were the troops trying to avoid being separated from their leaders or were they simply “fleeing for their lives”, quite oblivious to the whereabouts or welfare of their leader? In these particular cases it is, of course, impossible to judge. Other examples of panic exist, however, where it is clear that panic behavior derives from the threat of the loss of loved ones rather than from the threat of other dangers. For example, in the fire on the General Slocum in the East River, New, York, in 1904, “the passengers looked at one another in horror, then broke in a wild stampede to find their children. In the first moments of that awful scramble, dozens were trampled to insensibility” (Kartman and Brown, 1948: 115, cited in Smelser, 1963: 167 fn). It has often been pointed out that, in disaster situations people turn to loved ones or companions rather than flee from the threat itself (for example, Form and Nosow, 1958: 26–27). In the panic created by the broadcast of the “invasion from Mars”, Cantril and his associates (1940: 144–146) found that most of those who fled were either attached to families or fled only after family members had been brought together. Animal studies reported by Mason (1967: 116) provide a further illustration of our point that, under certain circumstances, panic “flight” consists of affiliation rather than “self-preservative flight” from a physical or other form of danger. Although seeking the mother in a disturbing situation ordinarily results in both clinging and physical with-drawal, it is the act of clinging rather than the increasing distance from the source of disturbance thatseems to be the critical event. Young monkeys will approach


152

an artificial mother (Harlow, 1962), and chimpanzees in a disturbing open-field test will cling to a social surrogate that keeps them in the situation rather than enter an enclosed cage that would permit them to withdraw from it. If the artificial mother is not present, however, the cage is entered readily.

The Diary of Anne Frank tells the story of a Jewish family living in Holland at the time of Nazi occupation. Although the Frank family, like many other Jewish families, could have left the country and survived, they chose instead to go into hiding together, despite the fact that everyone knew that the hardest way to go “underground” was to do it as a family; that to hide as a family made detection by the SS more likely. Anne could have survived, as did many Jewish children in Holland, but to do so would have meant separation from the family, and also “accepting as reality man’s inhumanity to man” (Bettelheim, 1960: 230). The Franks postponed going into hiding because they wanted to transfer more of their possessions to the hideout. It was almost too late for Anne’s sister, who was called to the SS (ibid.: 234fn). The fact that millions of Jews remained in Europe, waiting their turn to be summoned or caught by the SS, can perhaps only be explained on the hypothesis that separation from family, friends, community and neighborhood was more disturbing or stressful than the fate awaiting them at the hands of the Nazis. To interpret these facts in terms of the theory, it is not so much withdrawal from a physical threat which is crucial, but maintaining a cognitive map – in other words, affiliating with the stimulus objects represented in the map. In the same way, when combat troops have formed an attachment to officers and members of their unit, incongruity from such sources is, generally speaking, more devasting to them than other kinds of threat experienced on the battlefield. Consequently, remaining close to one’s comrades in combat is more important to the individual than avoiding enemy fire. As Marshall (1947: 195) notes: “… normal men will move through danger to seek their fellows rather than remain alone. Confidence rises as the men come together.” Hence, it is also possible to understand why men will follow their officers and comrades when sudden, hazardous charges are made towards the enemy, even though, on a commonsense view, they would be exposing themselves to great danger and therefore more inclined to seek withdrawal or escape.1

1

Such charges do not always occur when the leader attempts to initiate the. Marshall (1947: 176) cites the example of a night’s advances of the First Battalion, 501st Parachute infantry, against the German-held village of Schijndel in September, 1944. He writes: “The column had advanced only five hundred yards beyond its outpost line when it came under machine-gun and anti-tank fire. Kinnard heard some of the firing clipping the branch above his head and judged it was all going high. But the lead company had stopped and the men had jumped for the ditches. He ran forward, shouting to the men: “Keep going! Keep going! That fire is high!” But his personal advance had no effect. Not a man stirred. Within a moment he understood why he had failed. From one of the ditches a rifleman answered him: “If you think the fire is going high, Colonel, come over here. We’ve had eight men hit in the legs.”

Panic Flight as Affiliative Behavior

153

If this argument is correct – that panics in military units where attachments have been formed are affiliative in nature – infantry soldiers would be expected to stop running when the officer stopped running, since they would be trying to stay close to the officer rather than seeking personal safety through flight. The available evidence, however, is somewhat contradictory. Lanham (1943) suggests that once a panic has started, nothing whatever can bring it to a halt before it has run its “natural course”. When the German XVII Corps broke in panic at Gumbinnen on August 20, 1914, not even the personal intervention of General von Mackensen, their respected and feared corps commander, could stem the wild rush. Indeed, history records few instances of panics that were stopped before they had run their full course. (p. 289)

On the other hand, Lanham qualifies his generalization by mentioning two apparent exceptions. First, he mentions how “Joffre’s monumental calm at the Marne rallied his terribly defeated armies and inspired them to an almost miraculous victory” (p. 284). Secondly, there was the Haitshong incident in 1904, when the Russian 140th infantry, standing calmly to attention, were able to stop the flight of the rifle brigade as they streamed past. As a further example, on 8 August 1944, the panic-stricken troops of the German 89th Division fled in a rabble down the Caen–Falaise road. General Kurt Meyer lit a cigar, stood in the middle of the road, and asked if they were going to leave him to fight the enemy alone. They stopped and returned to their posts (cited in L’Etang, 1966: 284). Finally, in the seven incidents of panic in World War II discussed by Marshall (1947: 147–148), all of the panics were stopped before the men had run themselves to exhaustion. To summarize, under the stress of preparing for and facing combat, in addition to being separated from family and friends, men form intense attachments to each other and to their leaders. Increased levels of arousal in such situations lead to stimulation-seeking of a relatively indiscriminate kind. Any source of reassurance and support is eagerly sought as a stimulus object. Since troops are constantly in each other’s presence, strong attachments within the unit are formed. Individuals build cognitive maps of each other, which they attempt to maintain. Under further conditions of combat, men draw closer to each other as a means of gaining feedback to a threatened cognitive map, just as the other species members do when threatened. It is recalled that Marshall (1947: 145) described how troops tended to bunch on the battlefield, and how they would always run if they saw others running for unexplained reasons. Janis and Leventhal (1968) describe how men become “hyper-vigilant” in combat, constantly observing each other’s behavior and being highly suggestible and imitative (see also Bowlby, 1973: 159–161). It is mainly the negatively evaluative overtones of the term panic that have tended to obscure what I contend is the very close relationship between “panic flight” and sudden charges against the enemy. In both types of situation, what may be important for the individual soldier is maintaining proximity with his fellows, even though this may involve moving into situations of greater physical danger. If the leader moves forward suddenly towards an enemy position, and others follow him, we speak of a “courageous charge”, or possibly of “pathological bravery”, depending on our values.

154


If an officer, for whatever reason, runs to the rear and others follow him, we speak of “panic” or “cowardice”. On this view, there may be no difference in the character or causation of these actions apart from the differing social evaluation attached to them. Perhaps this provides an explanation for the puzzling facts, discussed in Chapter 11, that the same troops or individuals can show both “heroism” by “courageous charges”, and “panic flight” in close succession – under similar conditions on different occasions. It has not been possible to demonstrate conclusively, on the basis of available evidence, that certain military panics are affiliative in nature, as opposed to actions where every man runs for his own life regardless of others. But examples have been cited, derived from work with animals and from studies of human disasters of all kinds, strongly suggesting that maintaining proximity to others was more important to the individuals concerned than wild, individualized flight from the vicinity. In the case of military “panics of affiliation”, what needs to be shown is that, given some external threat, and the flight of a leader, the individuals who follow him in “panic” will stop if the leader stops, instead of continuing in headlong flight. This would show that proximity with the leader, rather than “individualistic flight” was the motivating factor in panic. If these arguments have cast doubt on the courageous and “selfless” actions of groups in combat, they may nevertheless at the same time suggest that close-knit groups which have panicked should be exonerated from the charge of cowardice or “selfishness”.

Chapter 14

Review of Current Theories of Panic Conventional Sociological Theory of Panic On the basis of seven incidents of panic in World War II which took place in the military, Marshall (1947: 145–146) offered the generalization that: … it can be laid down as a rule that nothing is more likely to collapse a line of infantry in combat than the sight of a few of its number in full and unexplained flight to the rear … That was how each of these seven incidents got its start. One or two or more men made a sudden run to the rear which others in the vicinity did not understand … [I]n every case the testimony of all the witnesses clearly developed the fact that those who started the run … had a legitimate or at least a reasonable excuse for the action.

Smelser (1963: 154) has analyzed such cases in the following way: … the initial flight itself creates – as the remarks of Marshall show – a new set of necessary conditions for panic. To see someone running wildly is prima facie evidence that he is seeking to escape through limited exits (structural conduciveness), and that he is anxious. Furthermore, this observed flight is a precipitating event for the observer, and gives rise to the belief that something frightening is present, even though this “something” may not be identical to that which caused the original flight.

Smelser defines panic as “a collective flight based on a hysterical belief. Having accepted a belief about some generalized threat, people flee from established patterns of social interaction in order to preserve life, property or power from that threat!” (p. 131). His basic thesis can be reformatted into the proposition that flight occurs if an individual believes a) that a definite threat is present, and b) that escape routes leading away from the threat are limited or closing. When reformulated thus, the essentials of Smelser’s value-added theory are consistent with the ideas of several other recent theorists. For example, Fritz and Williams (1957), Quarantelli (1954), Janis et al. (1955), and Mintz (1951), all concur with Smelser that the two key factors leading to panic flight are: a belief that physical danger is present from which escape must be sought, and the belief that escape routes are either limited or closing. Janis and Leventhal (1968: 1061), for example, write: It is this combination of cognitions, whether or not they are correct inferences about the subject situation, which is designated as “perceived entrapment,” and which is most likely to lead to wild flight, trampling of fellow victims, and other uncontrollable, distraught reactions of the type referred to as “panic.”

156


We now proceed to a systematic review of the evidence concerning this theory. Definition Smelser’s definition of panic as “collective flight” is too restrictive since it does not include the range of behavior customarily associated with the term. Panic can be expressed in aggression or rage as well as flight, not to mention intense affiliative behavior. On the battlefield, panic can take the form of dashing about suicidally in front of enemy fire. The concept of panic also includes immobility (“freezing”) behavior, which is a not uncommon response to extreme terror. A theory of panic should make clear the conditions under which flight takes place rather than immobility, since both responses are possible when the individual is greatly threatened. Perceived Danger With regard to the perception of threat or danger, Smelser (1963: 151, fn. 1) argues that “persons who panic generally know what they fear, and can report later on these fears”. Yet several of the panics discussed by Marshall (1947: 147) took place under highly ambiguous conditions (see also Linebarger, 1954: 3–7). On occasion, the panic occurred in the dark, and the enemy could not be seen; and each of the seven panics began when one or more men made a sudden dash for the rear which others did not understand, according to Marshall, who also points out (p. 145) that the panic flight following the initial run was “blind” and “instinctive”. In one incident, a sergeant in the First Battalion, 302nd Infantry was hit through an artery during the Carentan Causeway fight on 2 June 1954. He got up and ran immediately for the first-aid station without telling his squad why he was leaving. Others who hadn’t seen the sergeant make his dash saw someone else in flight. They too ran. Someone said: “the order is to withdraw.” Others picked up the word and cried it along the line: “Withdraw! Withdraw!”

In this case, the initial dash by the sergeant was interpreted as an order to retreat. Marshall also points out that, in each incident, “there [was] precipitate and unexplained motion. Other men nearby became stampeded by the appearance of flight” (p. 147). There is no mention of definite beliefs of the kind suggested by Smelser and others. More indirect evidence against the view that a definite threat is present comes from the quotation of Marshall cited earlier: “Troops will always run if they see others running and do not understand why” (p. 145). Alan Moorehead, in his book African Trilogy (cited in L’Etang, 1966: 284), described a personal experience of panic which took place in the Western Desert on November 1941, when rear elements of the 8th Army bolted for the frontier wire. He described it as “a contagion of bewilderment and fear and ignorance … It was the unknown we were running away from, the unknown in ourselves and in the enemy.” Freud (1922) states that there are many cases in which “a body of troops breaks into a panic although the danger has not increased beyond a degree that is usual and has often been faced previously” (p. 29). He notes that “it is the very essence of panic that it bears no relation to the danger that threatens, and often breaks out on the most

Review of Current Theories of Panic

157

trivial occasions” (p. 28). Indeed, “the very question that needs answering is why the fear has become so gigantic. The greatness of the danger cannot be responsible, for the same army which now falls a victim to panic may previously have faced equally great or greater danger with complete success” (p. 28). Subjects in sensory deprivation experiments have experienced panic and had to leave the room, although fear of entrapment was not reported. In one such experiment, subjects gave unbearable anxiety, tension or panic attacks as their reason for leaving; others offered a “socially approved” physical symptom such as backache or headache, even though, on leaving, they were sweating, trembling and breathing rapidly (Smith and Lewty, 1959). Eibl-Eibesfeldt (1970) has drawn attention to the fact that “escape reactions” can occur in animals in the absence of any apparent external stimulus and “animals that have not been frightened for some time are inclined to flee in response to stimuli that would normally be ineffective as time went on” (p. 284). These observations suggest that collective flight is not always, nor perhaps even typically, preceded by the belief that a definite threat exists. Collective or individual flight can occur in the absence of such a belief. Limited or Blocked Escape Routes The conventional explanation is that panic flight is likely to occur only if escape routes are either limited or closing, given the belief that a definite, uncontrollable threat exists. It is assumed that panic flight will occur neither when escape routes are more or less unlimited, nor when escape routes are thought to be completely closed. When escape routes are completely closed, of course, successful flight cannot occur, but this does not rule out the possibility of other forms of highly emotional or “panicky” behaviors occurring. Several writers have mentioned how, in Nazi concentration camps, “blind” suicidal attempts were often made, people running headlong into the electrically charged wire fence (Adler, 1955; Cohen, 1953; Frankl, 1961; Trautman, 1964). Newcomers to the camps were subjected to the most brutal physical and mental assaults. As a preliminary, Trautman (1964: 134) observes: The victim was forced to remain in the nude for hours, his hair was shaved off, and he was herded together with the others like beasts of burden and marked with a number tattooed on his left arm. Beatings and killings accelerated the destruction, creating horror that paralyzed any hope of resistance. Confronted with these brutal realities – the sight of dead and dying lying around, the smell and sight of nearby crematoriums – the terrified newcomer was convinced that he was helpless, hopeless and defenseless, and he recognized the nature of his enemy. (italics added)

In addition to suicidal attempts, which were made at this (early) stage, “paradoxical” reactions occurred such as compulsive laughing in the most distressing situations. “Panic” reactions can thus occur in situations where escape routes are known to be completely blocked. Panic flight often occurs where exits are virtually unlimited. Schultz (1964a: 11) points out that in many military panics escape routes were

158


neither especially limited nor closing, and this seems to apply to the cases discussed by Marshall. Danger and Limited Escape Routes Flight does not necessarily occur even though both the necessary conditions suggested by Smelser and others are present. For example, the Frank family and other Jewish families in Holland did not flee from the threat of the Nazis even though it must have been obvious to them that escape routes would soon be unavailable (Bettelheim, 1960). Nor was there panic on board the Titanic when disaster struck. A curious sort of collective self-sacrifice seems to have occurred: men stood calmly on the decks while the ship went down and all means of escape disappeared, though there were plenty of available lifeboats on board. These examples show that a threat can be believed to be present, and escape routes can be believed to be closing or limited, but flight does not necessarily occur. Families may huddle closer together, refusing to leave their homes and possessions; or collective “self-sacrifice” may occur. Finally, an immobility reaction may take place rather than flight under these conditions. An example is mentioned by Hebb (1955: 184–185). Noting that “the paralysis of terror” and related states do occur he continues: Twice in the past eight months … The Montreal newspaper reported the behavior of a human being who suddenly finding himself in extreme danger but with time to escape, simply made no move whatever. One of the two was killed; the other was not, but only because the truck driver chose to wreck his truck and another car instead.

Tyhurst’s (1951) study of individual reactions to community disaster is cited by Hebb in his next paragraph (see also Maxwell, 1923, for similar examples). Hebb comments: The adult who is told that his apartment house is on fire, or who is threatened by a flash flood, may or may not respond intelligently. In various situations, 12 to 25% did so; an equal number show “states of confusion, paralyzing anxiety, inability to move out of bed, ‘hysterical’ crying or screaming, and so on.” Three-quarters or more show a clear impairment of intelligent behavior, often with aimless and irrelevant movements, rather than (as one might expect) panic reactions.

By “panic reactions”, Hebb presumably refers to flight behavior. In any event, it is clear that many behaviors other than flight occur when a definite threat is present and exits are either limited or closing. The counter-objection could be made that the individuals in such cases did not actually believe either that the threat was uncontrollable and/or that exits were limited or closing. In the case of suicidal dashes in the concentration camps the possibility is unlikely, however, judging by first-hand accounts of eye witnesses. It is also difficult to believe that those on the Titanic as the ship slipped gradually down into the water did not have a very clear understanding of their predicament. Secondly, animals typically become immobile, albeit briefly, under the glare of the headlights of passing cars. Can we credit them with believing that escape routes are closed? Since


159

there is no way of putting it to the test, the hypothesis is not a useful one. Smelser’s and Quarantelli’s view that such distinct beliefs are entertained by people in the throes of panic also seems contrary to many accounts of the “unreasoned” nature of panic behavior; in particular, the fact that temporary impairments in cognition and perception seem to occur in acute panic states (Janis and Leventhal, 1968: 1095). In ordinary usage it is customary to speak of a radio newsreader “panicking” at the microphones, in the sense of becoming confused and incoherent with fear, and having to be replaced by another announcer.1 In other words, aside from whether or not flight occurs given these beliefs, the question is whether “beliefs” as such are held at all in panic states as opposed to less urgent cases of retreat or affiliation. In conclusion, panics – including suicidal dashes – can occur in situations where escape routes are known to be completely blocked and, conversely, where exits are more or less unlimited, such as the battlefield. Examples have also been cited where flight does not necessarily occur even though a definite threat is believed to be present and exits are limited or closing. On occasion there may be no signs of excited behavior at all; on other occasions, freezing or immobility may result. The Nature of Flight Smelser (1963: 131) argues that when people have accepted a “belief about some generalized threat, [they] flee from established patterns of social interaction in order to preserve life, property, or power from that threat.” An assumption seems to be implicit here that, given a definite threat and the possibility of escape routes being blocked, collective flight is essentially purposive or goaldirected behavior – the purpose being to preserve life, property, and so on. This assumption is made explicit by Smelser (1968: Chapter 5) in a later statement on collective behavior, where he describes it as “purposive, socially-oriented activity in which people attempt to reconstitute their social environment”. Three different predictions about the nature of flight – at least on the battlefield – would seem to follow: (a) individuals would spread out as they fled in order to avoid presenting an easy target for the enemy; (b) flight would be unmistakably directional, that is, in a direction away from the enemy; (c) flight would continue only to the point where the threat was no longer present. Let us consider the evidence for each prediction in turn. (a) Far from spreading out in flight, Quarantelli (1957) writes of the “oft-noticed convergence of fleeing persons in a collective panic”.2 On the other hand, he suggests that the reason for convergence may be that individuals assume that escape is possible 1

I am indebted to John Grundy for suggesting this point. Similarly Foreman (1953) notes that: “Milling and canalization of milling responses into flight by effective models continue to appear when rout is in progress.” 2

160


in that direction. But this suggestion only raises further difficulties. First, it fails to explain bunching behavior among troops. Second, the explanation does not apply to conditions on the battlefield, where escape in numerous directions is often possible. A more profound difficulty challenges all phenomenological explanations (that is, those based on the reasons or beliefs of individuals engaging in the action): namely, that similar convergence behavior in flight is seen among various animal (especially herd) species. Herds of animals and schools of fish flee as a group when chased by a predator.3 “In fox-hunting”, Graham (1964: 379) observes, “when the horsemen have to jump out of a field, they feel a strong compulsion (one of them writes) to jump at the places in the hedge chosen by the first that goes. If they should stop to think they would know that following the rest may mean delay, in taking their turn to jump, and probably deterioration in the ground at take-off and landing.” Similarly, Munson (1921: 172) observes: Cavalry experience shows that when a leading horse hurries, hesitates or jumps, those following tend to do the same …

In a previous chapter (p. 105), Munson writes: “… a horse stampedes and the whole herd follows”. And later on … “A man runs to the rear and all follow him.” After late on (p. 175), “the man who coughs at a lecture, drinks from his canteen, sings, 3 This objection could also apply to a second phenomenological-type of explanation which could be advanced as an alternative to Quarantelli’s: namely, that convergence would provide “safety in numbers”. The problem is that, even if we exclude animal studies, this explanation fails to account for the diverse conditions of “incongruity” – or stress – under which affiliative, bunching or convergence behavior takes place. Phenomenological explanations must also take account of the following difficulties: 1) While people may offer “safety in numbers” as an explanation of their affiliative behavior, this may be an after-thefact rationalization. As Mandler (1967: 148) has pointed out, “We run time and time again into subjects reporting certain strategies in problem-solving but their report and what in fact they do are completely uncorrelated. In other words, they make up stories. The human always makes up hypotheses as to what he has just done. Those hypotheses may not be at all consistent with what actually happened.” 2) Reasons offered by agents for their actions may not be the real reasons for their behavior; explanations in terms of reasons do not rule out the possibility of providing other kinds of explanations. 3) Individuals may be reluctant to admit their reasons for acting as they did, for shame, fear, pride, cultural norms, and so on. 4) Individuals may in fact genuinely not be able to provide reasons for acting as they did. 5) On occasion, individuals may offer several reasons for their actions. In such a case, which reason(s) were decisive? There seems to be no way of answering this question. 6) The reasons people give for their actions may be wrong, as the classic example of the post-hypnotic suggestion shows (MacIntyre, 1967). Finally, 7) the phenomenological account strains credulity when offered in situations where action follows almost instanteously after a given stimulus. In other words, the very rapid information-processing which must take place in such situations, would, on this view, rule out the possibility of conscious deliberation by the agent. The decision-making process would more likely take place at a different level from that of individual awareness.


161

criticizes, starts to eat his lunch, goes over the top, or runs to the rear induces others to follow his example unconsciously.” Such facts are difficult if not impossible to explain in phenomenological terms. The same sort of observations have been reported for animals as well as man. Lorenz (1966; see also Trotter, 1919: 142) suggests that a tight grouping of animals or men actually presents a far more difficult target for a predator than individuals spreadout in all directions, since the concentration necessary for the predator to select his prey will be strongly interfered with by the distracting movement of other nearby prey. Bovard (1959), Liddell (1960) and Bowlby (1969) have all suggested that the proximity of species’ members under stress can be explained on evolutionaryadaptive or survival terms. Bovard and Liddell propose that the presence of another animal protects the individual from “psychosocial stress”. Bowlby’s thesis that attachment provides “protection from predators” is similar, except that he goes further in spelling out the ways in which attachment behavior develops and manifests itself. These theories have been discussed earlier. The phenomenological account thus fails to account for the wide range of situations and species in which this behavior (that is, affiliation) occurs. (b) On the question of the directionality of flight, two authors experienced in the treatment of panic states and combat neuroses in World War II appear to dispute the view that panic flight is always purposive in the sense of being guided by purposes which could be articulated by the panicking individuals themselves. For example, Sargant (1957: 141) reports that: … hitherto normal front-line soldiers have passed into an intense excitatory state, running at random across no-man’s land, or dashing suicidally and uselessly into machine-gun fire.

When a certain company (he does not say which one) was ordered to attack: Soldiers ran about shouting in panic, this phase being followed by a sudden dumbness. One man had fallen down in a village street which was under bombardment, but when picked up by his comrades suddenly began to shout and struggle. (p. 142)

According to Ranson (1947: 10), “[T]he most common expression of true panic on the battlefield … is the panic run, in which, usually during a shelling, the soldier deserts cover and dashes about impulsively, exposing himself to flying shell fragments.” Judging by these accounts, panic flight is not always uniformly directional. (c) Flight Termination The third prediction derived from Smelser’s account of the nature of flight is that flight would only continue to the point where the threat was no longer present. Consistent with this view, Quarantelli (1957) describes the characteristically short duration of panic flight and claims that this relates directly to the individual’s perception of having reached a “safe” distance from the threat. However, such a “functional” account of the extent and nature of panic flight is

162


difficult to reconcile with: i) certain recorded examples of very extended flight, and ii) unusual behaviors subsequent to the initial panic run, when the danger has passed. (i) A case of panic described by Lanham (1943: 276–277) provides an example. On 27 June 1866, the Austrian 10th Corps was forced to withdraw to meet a threat to its line of communications. The march lay across the previous day’s battlefield and rumors had spread that the Prussians had got across the path of retreat, cutting off the brigade from the corps. At the end of a 12-mile march the brigade ran into a detachment of the Prussian Second Army near Rudersdorf. A battle raged for three hours when the cry rang out: “We’re cut off from the corps!” In a few minutes the entire regiment broke in panic, threw away their rifles and fled to the rear. The remnants of the brigade continued their flight throughout the night. Morning found them some fifteen miles from the scene of the disaster.

Another example comes from von Altrock (1930), who describes a regiment trotting back in marching column on the road. The commander sent an aide to the front of the column to bring it to a halt. As this officer was galloping along from the direction of the enemy, his pace was regarded as a sign of the seriousness of the situation. When the officers tried to gain the heads of their troops by galloping, the troopers followed suit and soon the entire regiment was galloping away from the enemy, and overran a Prussian battery. Only after miles and some casualties was it possible to bring the regiment to a halt.4

These examples do not provide sufficiently detailed information for us to be certain that the extent of flight was not directly related to perceptions of the immediacy of danger. More decisive, however, are the many examples, cited previously, where animals and men have fled – not directly away from the threat – but often towards people (or animals), or places, where spatial distance from the threat was not necessarily achieved: indeed, the distance between the individual and the threat may have diminished. Yet the individuals concerned showed signs of calm and contentment. Such cases are not readily explicable on the kind of “rationalistic”, “purposive” model proposed by Smelser and others (but see below). The model assumes the commonsense view that if danger presents itself, people try to get away from it. Quarantelli (1957; see also Foreman, 1953) points out that there are situations where successful flight necessitates approaching danger, such as in running through a wall of fire. However, there is still the assumption that additional dangers will only 4 It could be that in this example the men lost control of their horses. Meerloo (1950: 85) gives an example of such a panic in a cavalry regiment. “A Prussian cavalry regiment marched in a column along a highway during the war of 1865 … the regiment pivoted suddenly and galloped off in retreat. It became a wild rush and officers and men lost control of their horses … Only miles further could the panic be stopped.” Fillis (1902: 189) states that a truly bolting horse “will not listen to reason”, “cannot be guided”, “will dash himself to pieces against anything he meets” (cited in Graham, 1964: 379).


163

be negotiated insofar as they subsequently allow the individual to get completely away from danger. My point is that the frightened individual does not necessarily flee to a situation in which the danger is no longer present: at times, the situation reached only increases the objective danger. (ii) Panic behavior rarely terminates when flight has ceased. Common sequelae include fatigue and stupor, extreme anxiety and persistent terror, excitability and aggressiveness and sometimes, secondary panics (Foreman, 1953: 229). These reactions are difficult to reconcile with a strictly “functional” or “cognitive” view of the panic process. We address these secondary aspects of panic in the next chapter (see also Chapter 17). Despite these criticisms of the theory, panic “flight” has occurred when a definite threat was believed to be present, and escape routes were judged to be limited or closing. Some of the best-known panics seem to fall into this category, such as the Iroquois Theater fire in 1903, and the Cocoanut Grove nightclub fire of 1942: Cocoanut Grove Nightclub Fire A major fire occurred in the Cocoanut Grove nightclub in Boston, Massachusetts on the night of November 28, 1942, one of the worst in US history. The club had approximately 1,000 occupants at the time, over twice the permitted number. A couple seeking privacy in the club unscrewed a light bulb. A busboy, attempting to screw back the light bulb, lit a match to see the socket. The match set light to highly inflammable artificial trees and decorations, and within minutes 492 people were killed and many more seriously injured. People made frantic efforts to get out of the building. The two revolving doors at the main entrance became jammed and bodies quickly piled up to the height of the doors. Up to 300 of those killed might have been saved if the doors had opened. The Cocoanut Grove fire led to major improvements in fire prevention regulations for places of assembly, including emergency and exit lighting and occupant capacity placards. Similarly, on the battlefield, Meerloo (1950: 49) points out that “new weapons have always caused panics”. The first German gas attacks in 1915 precipitated panics in British troops, and the first tanks used by the British in 1919 led to panic in the lines. Auld (1918, cited in Schultz, 1964a: 63) points out that: … in the first World War… The Germans introduced two new (at that time) terrifying weapons for which there had been no training on the part of the Allied troops – gas warfare and the flammenwerfer (flame-thrower). A complete panic flight was the result with those who survived the initial assaults by these weapons … [A]fter information and training programs had been given to the Allied troops, the incidence of panic was extremely rare.

How the flight which follows in response to these obviously terrifying threats is to be interpreted, however, is another matter, to which we return in the next chapter. On the other hand, while such cases as the above undoubtedly exist, numerous examples of “wild” or “excited” flight reactions have occurred where there was no apparent


164

external threat (for example, fire), and exits were neither limited nor closing; the situation was generally ambiguous, and even where the presence of a definite threat was recognized, flight was not necessarily directed away from the threat. Freud (1922) and Schultz (1964a) have implicitly taken such facts into account in their own theories of panic. The Theories of Freud and Schultz In his important but neglected monograph, Group Psychology and the Analysis of the Ego, Freud (1922) suggests that panic can occur under two sorts of conditions: the presence of great danger, such as in theater fires, and at the cessation of group ties. Freud discusses at some length in his monograph how earlier writers on group psychology, such as LeBon and McDougall, had failed to take into account the importance of leadership and, more especially, the “libidinal ties” of affection and trust which constitute the “essence” of groups (p. 23). Since panic can break out on the most trivial occasions,5 and the same military unit which panics on the occasion may previously have endured far greater objective danger, the key question is why fear suddenly becomes so great? Most writers assume that intense fear leads to a break-up of group ties. Freud’s view is the reverse: that the break-up of groups ties leads to the intensification of fear. What makes the dangers of combat seem relatively mild are the emotional ties existing in the group. If these ties break down, the individual feels very alone, and danger is consequently felt to be increased. Panic arises, therefore, if the group disintegrates; orders are no longer listened to or obeyed; each individual thinks only of himself and runs frantically for his life regardless of the welfare of others. The typical occasion for the outbreak of panics of this kind is the “loss of the leader in some sense or other, the birth of misgivings about him …” (p. 29). Schultz’s (1964a) position differs from that of Freud only insofar as he explicitly distinguishes between “organized” (that is, cohesive) as opposed to “unorganized” groups, and instead of employing Freud’s concept of “libidinal energy”, adopts the neutral concept of “cohesion”. Like Freud, he considered that panic only occurs in organized groups if the group structure disintegrates (for example, by the flight of the leader), whereas panic in unorganized groups is due to some external, objective danger, such as fire, disaster, and so on. Again, with Freud, he suggests that when group ties break down individuals – just as in unorganized groups – become preoccupied with their own survival and lose all interest in what others are doing. The difference between the position of Freud and Schultz, on the one hand, and that of Janis, Quarantelli and Smelser, on the other, is that in the former, group ties must “break down” before external danger can produce flight. When group ties have disintegrated, the behavior of individuals is the same. In other words, common to all theories of panic is a Hobbesian picture of individuals struggling, at times 5

Marshall (1947: 145) writes: “… I think we can take it that every large panic starts with some very minor event …”


165

in competition with each other, to achieve a goal (usually self-preservation) when the means of achieving it (escape routes) are rapidly disappearing. The difference between the theories lies in the extent to which the “social contract” prevails in the beginning: in organized groups it is, by definition, well-developed, whereas in unorganized groups it barely exists at all. The basic model is, however, the same: social cooperation gives way to anarchy and self-interest. Two qualifications are necessary with regard to Smelser’s theory. First, he recognizes briefly, at the end of his chapter on panic, the existence of “separation panics”: In some disasters panic behavior turns out to be a scramble to save loved ones. These are instances of panic, to be sure, but panics of a special kind. They stem from a derived threat of loss of loved ones, not from the immediate danger of loss of life from fire or flood. Panic occurs because people fear that their access to loved ones is limited and closing. (Smelser, 1963: 166–167)

He also points out that “faith in the fighting unit” (p. 168) is an important factor in combat effectiveness. Earlier, he refers to the desirability of a homogeneous and clearly defined “role structure” in combat units (p. 161) and to the importance of leadership in controlling and facilitating panic (pp. 161–164). Finally, he states (p. 167): On the battlefield immediate family members … and other loved ones are absent. To the extent that the unit is a face-to-face, loyal unit, however, competing norms to panic are present, and we should expect more heroic rescue behavior and less panic in dangerous situations.

These observations are made by Smelser chiefly in his discussion of the prevention and control of panic, and tend to be presented in an ad hoc fashion. The subject of morale receives a brief mention on page 145, in his discussion of cultural and individual differences in the definition of the situations; and separation panics, as reported above, are briefly mentioned. In his analysis of Marshall’s generalization about panic in the military – that many “panics” began when one or more men made a sudden run to the rear which others in the vicinity did not understand – Smelser perhaps dwells too much on what the behavior of the first men to run means to the observer in terms of objective dangers to the anticipated, rather than on what the flight means to the observer in terms of his relationship with the fleeing man. Putting oneself in the shoes of the observer (which is what Smelser is implicitly doing), instead of first thinking something to the effect: “That man is running because something has frightened him and because escape routes are closing. Therefore, I’d better run away too” – the observer might think “why is my buddy/leader running away and leaving me here alone? I’ll follow because I don’t want to get cut off from him.” I am not suggesting that individuals would necessarily reason this way, nor that the result of conscious reasoning processes (that is, beliefs) explains the action, since

166


phenomenological explanations based on beliefs, intentions, conscious purposes, and so on, have been explicitly rejected. The objection is that Smelser’s analysis underestimates the nuances of meaning that can arise when one or more men, in whom confidence and trust have been placed, behave contrary to expectations.6 The key critical issue is that on Smelser’s theory the goals of being re-united with loved ones and of preserving life are treated as being quite separate. My point is that escape behavior can simultaneously take the form of affiliative behavior (see Chapter 15). Smelser’s analysis begins by assuming an autonomous human being with a number of separate purposes or goals which panic situations throw into stark relief. The present analysis, in contrast, rests on the assumption of a self-regulating system in which the “thing-being-maintained” is a relationship between individuals, conceived in terms of cognitive maps. On the latter view, affiliative processes are central to the analysis of crisis situations, not simply one among a number of separate and distinct motivational processes. Freud has enlarged the study of emotional behavior by recognizing that the soldier on the battlefield is not simply an autonomous individual reacting to external stimuli along with other, autonomous beings, studying other individuals only to derive cues about the external situation so that he, as an independent individual, can act accordingly. Rather, Freud recognized that man’s reactions to “external” stimuli are very much a function of the nature or quality of his relationships with others in the situation. An individual’s relationships with his fellows is a fundamental part of the total situation which has to be taken into account in understanding how an individual will react in those situations. This is what Liddell (1960) seemed to want to deny in his attempt to study conditioned reflexes in an experimental set-up uncontaminated by such “extraneous” factors as the presence of the mother animal and the relationship between the experimental animal and the experimenter. The same problem troubled Pavlov (1927) in his studies of reflex physiology in dogs. The difficulty was that they started to get attached to him! He found that a human could quite easily inhibit an ongoing conditioned response, and this forced him to isolate the dog from all stimulation in a sound-proofed room. At first, Pavlov believed that the human being was just another source of excitatory stimulation for the dog, but later he was obliged to postulate a “social reflex” in this animal (Lynch 1970: 232). As Lynch (p. 231) further points out: The physiological efficacy of the bedside manner, the simple expedient of visiting and talking with the patient, has long been routinely accepted as part of medical practice. So powerful is this social effect of a physician that the empirical evaluation of pharmacological agents has been seriously complicated by this placebo effect. One can speculate upon whether the major therapeutic efficacy of psychotherapy might evolve not from 6 In Smelser’s (1968) discussion of Freud’s monograph there is unfortunately no discussion of Freud’s theory of panic, which would have been valuable for understanding the relationship between his own theory and that of others.


167

the specific therapeutic techniques employed,but rather from the “person” of the therapist. Despite Freud’s emphasis on the relationship between leaders and followers, and between the followers themselves in understanding panic in the military, he admitted that panic could also occur in response to very great danger, as well as in military groups when “libidinal ties” disintegrated. When these ties disappeared, however, and the “social contract” broke down, Freud, with many other writers, assumed that behavior would regress to that of a Hobbesian “original state of nature” where supposedly antisocial and selfish impulses would come to the fore (cf. LeBon, 1986). While Freud (and Schultz) do not define what they mean by the disintegration of group ties or cohesiveness, implicit in this overall social theory is a concept of man’s nature as essentially individualistic and autonomous, and of society as a rational construction erected to protect individuals from the depredations of others. That the philosopher Thomas Hobbes could pose his famous question: “How is order in society possible?”, depended on first assuming a certain sort of human nature – one that was antisocial, autonomous and individualistic. Given these assumptions, a “constraint” model of social behavior followed inevitably. In other words, if this is what people are basically like, then it is necessary, if social order is to be achieved, either for some outside force to regulate human passions independently of their will – the solution proposed by Durkheim (for example, 1951) – or for people to contract to be regulated by the state, at whose head is a sovereign – the solution of Hobbes (1928). Thus it was typically assumed that panic flight represents a return to a pre-social state where each individual is preoccupied with his own interests, and disregards the welfare of others, even to the point of trampling them to death if they should interfere with the satisfaction of the “basic instinct” of “self-preservation”. Disregarding the assumptions of “inherent evil” in man, it is important to note that the theories of panic reviewed here all assume a body of thought about human nature and society which has deep roots in Western intellectual history. This is the view that man is essentially an autonomous being with a bundle of instincts, the natural satisfaction of which would lead to anarchy and chaos. In the next chapter a theory of panic behavior is presented that also has deep roots in Western thought, but the assumptions about human nature and society on which it is based are the reverse of those of the “constraint” model.


Chapter 15

Havens of Safety Freud and Schultz, as we saw in the last chapter, emphasized the role of primary groups, libidinal ties or cohesion, in accounting for panic flight on the battlefield. According to Freud, flight in these circumstances was due to the perceived disintegration of such ties. As a result, each man became an autonomous being exclusively concerned with his own welfare. Neither Freud nor Schultz considered the possibility that men would try to maintain ties which had been threatened – and this could take the form of dashing after and toward those who started the run. In Smelser’s “purposive” model of panic flight the purposes are distinctively the agents’ purposes, arising from beliefs about the nature of the situation. I have suggested that this is a highly rationalistic approach that underemphasizes the importance of the social context in moderating fear, as well as the extent to which fear can give rise to perceptual and cognitive disorganization. Human Relationships (Attachments) as Homeostatic Systems The model proposed here is also a purposive one, but in this case “purpose” implies a teleological or negative-feedback system – a system designed to maintain social attachments; a model in which sensory inputs (perceptions) are followed by behavioral responses that serve to maintain the attachment. It is suggested that the maintenance of attachments – recognized by consistent behavioral patterns of proximity-seeking toward specific individuals – results from the formation of a cognitive map of an individual and subsequent efforts to maintain the cognitive map by seeking the sensory properties of the person (or persons) so represented. Perceived incongruity (a state of mismatch between sensory input and the cognitive map) leads to a state of physiological arousal, resulting in a proportionally intense stimulation-seeking response designed to achieve a state of congruity between sensory input and the cognitive map. In sum, people try to preserve or maintain their cognitive maps – which explains how social attachments are maintained – and in this sense social bonds or relationships can be regarded as “homeostatic” (that is, self-equilibrating) systems. “Flight” can simultaneously involve approach or affiliative behavior: in escaping one stimulus or situation the individual approaches sources of familiar stimulation. For instance, a child frightened by the dark runs to its mother. Troops bunch together on the battlefield. If one man runs, others follow; in one case the action may take the form of a battle charge, in another it may be expressed in movement to the rear.

170


The basic notion is that incongruity leads to increased arousal which in turn leads to increasingly intense stimulation-seeking – a response designed to create a “match” (that is, congruity) between the cognitive map and the external sources of stimuli of which it is a map. Hierarchical Organization (“Salience”) of Cognitive Maps Let us review what was said earlier about the hierarchical nature of cognitive maps and at the same time expand the general thesis. In human infants there is an initial period in which stimulation of practically any kind is sought. The infant generally forms an attachment to objects – usually, of course, people – that provide the most stimulation. In other words, the infant forms a cognitive map of the people around him: the stimulus properties of the person are retained in the brain, and learning occurs. When the infant subsequently experiences incongruity, for example, changes in the behavior of the attachment object, or from some other source such as a sudden change in temperature, the attachment object is sought out as a source of congruous stimulation. While attachments can be formed, of course, to objects such as teddy bears and comforters, the strongest attachments are formed to the most stimulating objects: for the human infant, this is usually but not always the mother (Schaffer and Emerson, 1964). The hierarchical nature of the cognitive map refers to the ordering of stimulus objects in terms of psychological salience. Most important – for the infant or child – will be mother, father, and other members of the nuclear family; of lesser importance will be the family house, the street or neighborhood, toys, comforters, and so on; later on, siblings, peer group relations, associates, and so on. When aroused, the infant searches for the sources of stimulation represented in his cognitive map. He seeks to “match” his cognitive map with sensory input from the appropriate objects. My suggestion is that the brain is not differentiated into so-called physiologicallybased response systems such as eating and drinking. Initially, in the infant, it is a nonspecific stimulation-seeker, and specific psycho-biological functions are learned in the same way that attachments to external objects are acquired by learning. Assuming that there are certain innate and prenatally acquired stimulus intensity parameters, deviation or incongruity with respect to these values produces a generalized or nonspecific stimulation-seeking response. Nutritional requirements are presumably satisfied as a by-product of this generalized stimulation-seeking. When an organism forms an attachment to an external stimulus object, what is now at stake is the patterning of characteristics associated with the object, not simply the intensity parameters. The intensity parameters can be considered to form a base or substrate on which qualitative features of the environment are built-up by the organism. The objects to which it becomes attached not only provide a source of input for these intensity parameters; their representation in the form of a cognitive map also acquires self-maintaining properties. Thus, to challenge or threaten the learned environment of an animal in its presence is to threaten its cognitive map, and

Havens of Safety

171

consequently to activate mechanisms designed to preserve or reaffirm it. Hence, the organism responds by searching for the familiar. At later periods of development, the patterning of overt behavioral responses to arousal is in part determined culturally. For example, cultures vary with respect to meal times, to the number of meals taken each day, type of food, and so on. However, the satisfaction of one “physiological need” is usually accompanied by the satisfaction of other needs, and forms of stimulation-seeking, supposedly unconnected with so-called primary drives, also tend to occur at the same time. For example, eating is frequently accompanied, closely preceded, or followed, by drinking and social activity. People tend to eat in company, and music and other entertainments form a background to the meal. As has often been said, meals are judged as much by the quality of the conversation as by the taste of the food. In short, to talk about “primary drive activity” artificially isolates one group of behaviors from the total stimulation-seeking response of the organism when aroused. Thus, when animals and humans eat food and look quickly from side to side, they are not on the look-out for predators, as some ethnologists have proposed (for example, Eibl-Eibesfeldt, 1970); the eating and the “looking around” are instead all part of the same non-specific stimulation-seeking response to arousal. Identifying potential predators could be a by-product of stimulation-seeking. A distinction needs to be made, therefore, between the generalized somatic response to arousal, which is non-specific, and the various overt, behavioral responses which may or may not occur, depending on a variety of culturally- and situationally-specific contingencies. It should also be noted that the generality of overt stimulation-seeking – that is, the range of objects sought when the organisms are aroused – depends in part on the extent of differentiation of the cognitive map. In the very young organism, cognitive maps are not well differentiated. Hence, a wide range of objects is sought for stimulation. But indiscriminate stimulation-seeking can also be shown by mature organisms. This occurs when, through lack of feedback, the cognitive map breaks down; hence the organism is no longer capable of making the subtle differentiations in stimulation-seeking which it had developed previously. The empirical examples cited in earlier chapters included the relatively “promiscuous” affiliation shown by individuals when bereaved, abandoned, or when, for a variety of other reasons, greatly distressed. Selye distinguished between a non-specific reaction to a stressor – the General Adaptation Syndrome (GAS), and a localized or specific response – the Local Adaptation Syndrome (LAS), to a particular stressor. For example, the LAS to a cold stressor is vasoconstriction, while the GAS includes the secretion of adrenocorticotrophic hormone and corticoids. Similarly, we distinguish between the non-specific physiological components of the stimulation-seeking response and the specific or localized overt, behavioral components(s) of stimulation-seeking. Consider the example of a child faced with the departure of his mother. We have assumed that departure constitutes incongruity for the child, which increases the level of arousal and of stimulation-seeking. The non-specific physiological response includes pupillary dilation and increased skin conductance: the child’s peripheral


172

receptors increase in sensitivity. The local or specific behavioral response consists of searching for the mother. At the same time, if familiar food is at hand the child will eat it, or suck its thumb, or engage in other forms of stimulation-seeking. Thus the behaviors actually exhibited depend principally on what is available in the situation as a means of gaining stimulation (for example, food), and on factors such as age, gender, cultural conditioning – and, of course, the degree of arousal.1 Thus far we have sketched the difference between Smelser’s purposive theory of panic flight and that proposed here. We have also clarified the concept of stimulationseeking by distinguishing between the generalized physiological components of the response and the more or less specific behavioral component (for example, affiliation with a particular individual). Panic flight can simultaneously take the form of affiliative behavior. This notion that panic flight takes an affiliative form on the battlefield has been obscured by an essentially “individualized” theory of panic behavior which fails to take the social context and social bonds into account. The social attachment theory is premised on the importance of morale or primary-group relationships in the military and in communities faced by disaster, and on well-documented evidence that men in military units – indeed all human beings – go to considerable lengths to maintain their social relationships. On the other hand, most of the classic panics – such as those taking place in theater fires – do not seem in the least “affiliative”. Everyone seems bent on fighting for their own survival. Surely this sort of example refutes the “affiliative” conception of panic? (But see Chapter 20 for a research update.) It is recalled that the theory of affiliation proposed here is that individuals internalize their physical and interpersonal environments in the form of cognitive maps, which they seek to maintain. Maintenance depends on feedback – that is, obtaining sensory input which corresponds to that represented in the cognitive map. Thus affiliation or seeking proximity to the appropriate objects (stimulation-seeking response) provides the necessary sensory feedback. Affiliative behavior is thus considered a negativefeedback or self-equilibrating response to incongruity. In theater fires, most members of the audience would be complete strangers and therefore not highly disposed to affiliate with each other. What, then, does their escape behavior consist of? How can escape behavior be conceptualized in such cases? A crucial point here is that the cognitive map not only includes familiar people but also the familiar social physical environment – in short, a haven of safety. Consider a key passage from Bowlby’s (1960a) paper on “Separation Anxiety”. He writes (p. 91):

1

Many areas of vagueness remain, including the problem of where “somaticphysiological” responses end, and “behavioral or overt” responses begin. There is also the theoretical problem of distinguishing between arousal and the peripheral bodily stimulationseeking response to arousal (but see Chapter 17, where the theory is modified to take account of observations on immobility responses).

Havens of Safety

173

… Animals escape not only from situations but to situations. A frightened rabbit bolts to its burrow, a fox to its earth, a band of baboons to their selected tree. Not until they have reached their preferred haven of safety do they rest.

The concept of haven of safety provides a solution to the problem of reconciling theater-fire-type panics with the general theory advanced here. We have suggested that the stimulation-seeking response can be considered in two ways: 1) in terms of a non-specific physiological-somatic response, involving increased sensitivity of the peripheral receptors, and increased motor activity, including wild running, which provides a generalized quantitative increase in somesthetic stimulation, and serves to lower the level of arousal; and 2) a relatively specific behavioral response which may be directed at a particular people or places (that is, havens of safety). Although it has been previously argued that panic flight is stimulation-seeking behavior in the sense that wild, agitated activity (whether expressed in “flight” or “rage”) provides quantitative feedback or input, I am now suggesting that panic flight is stimulation-seeking in the stronger sense that congruity with a qualitative cognitive map is sought; that is, a particular patterning of input is sought, in the form of proximity with particular individuals or places. Consider the classic situation of “panic as escape”. In a theater fire, stimulationseeking is expressed in intense motor activity (that is, flight, excited movements, and so on), and in running from the theater. However, we may be sure that stimulationseeking does not end there and then. Individuals succeeding in escaping from the theater would be expected to make every attempt to contact their families, by telephone, or preferably by direct contact, as soon as they are able to do so. Thus the sequelae of panic flight from, say, a burning theater, will in all probability include attempts to gain feedback from the most salient features of a cognitive map (that is, contact with family, spouse, and other symbols of “home”). This point is so obvious that it tends to be forgotten. The usual, commonsense explanations – seeking reassurance, letting the folks know one is unharmed, and so on – fail to account for the very wide range of circumstances in which such behavior takes place, in both animals and human beings, following the occurrence of incongruity. Adler (1943) described some of the neuropsychiatric complications observed in victims of the Cocoanut Grove nightclub fire in Boston, Massachusetts in 1942. Her observations were based on individuals who had been hospitalized as a result of the incident and whose subsequent adjustment was complicated by loss of work, disfigurement, bereavement and disturbed social situations. Data were not systematically collected on the question of interest to us now, but Adler reports on the case of a girl aged 17 with fairly extensive second to third degree burns who for several months after the fire did not want to be left alone. The same general point would apply to panic flight in military situations, where frank escape behavior is thought to have occurred. For example, in the panic of the Russian rifle brigade at Haitshong in 1904, discussed earlier, flight was not merely away from the danger – or supposed danger – but towards a temporary “haven of safety”.


174

Men grabbed their rifles and fired in all directions. In a few minutes the entire brigade was racing to the rear in two streams; one towards the camp of the corps trains near Haitshong, the other towards the camp of the 140th Infantry Regiment. (Lanham, 1943: 37)

Thus, in cases where panic has occurred in the military where attachments between the men and their officers have either been minimal or non-existent, flight is not simply directed away from the enemy but towards some “haven of safety”. Marshall’s (1947) seven cases of military “panic” in World War II all arose from the unexplained action of one or more men running to the rear in an otherwise dangerfree situation. I suggested earlier that these cases were best explained as “panics of affiliation”, in which the men were trying to stay close to one another. What about other cases of military panic, where the men were closely attached, but flight was precipitated by sudden, external danger such as the appearance of new weapons (Auld, 1918)? In these cases I hypothesize that the men would flee in close formation, thereby maintaining their attachments (that is, reaffirming their cognitive maps) while simultaneously fleeing from the source of danger. Similar observations, of course, apply to the flight of herd animals such as deer and antelope. The distinction made by Freud and Schultz between panic in organized and unorganized groups, or between panic caused by “disintegration” of group ties and panic caused by external danger, is therefore open to doubt. Where group ties do not exist, individuals in the collectivity flee toward a haven of safety, whether it be certain people and/or places such as a base camp. Where ties do exist, “panic” flight may be precipitated either by the unaccountable running of one or more men, or by sudden, unexpected danger. But even in the latter cases group ties do not “disintegrate”: flight may be directed away from the source of danger, but each man simultaneously strives to maintain proximity to his fellows. To summarize, even in those cases where individuals are clearly fleeing from a definite threat, such as from a burning theater or nightclub, flight is not directed away from all sources of stimulation. On the contrary, flight is directed toward “havens of safety” – to familiar people and locations outside the immediate area; and even within the danger zone the dominant tendency is to remain close to attachment figures. Once having escaped a specific threat, individuals subsequently attempt to be reunited with those to whom they are closely attached.2 Contrasting Social Theories In the conclusion of the last chapter the conventional conception of panic behavior was described as being based on Hobbesian assumptions about the nature of man and 2

A good example of this is cited by Quarantelli (1954) from data collected by the Disaster Team of the National Opinion Research Center of the University of Chicago. A woman, thinking a bomb had hit her house, fled in panic, leaving her baby behind. In her own words, the explosion “shook the house. The first thing I thought of was a bomb. I just felt it was a bomb and I ran out. I ran out and the house over the street was flames from the top to the bottom so I ran back and grabbed the baby out of his crib.”

Havens of Safety

175

society. On this “constraint” model of social order, people only behave cooperatively if they are “regulated” by external (legal or moral) influences. When group ties or the social contract “breaks down” – people act autonomously and selfishly according to their basic nature, leading to anarchy and chaos. But the constraint view of man and society is only one of at least two powerful currents of Western thought on the nature of man and society. An alternative view can be traced from the French philosophers such as Rousseau, through the work of Hegel, Marx, and more recently, G.H. Mead, Baldwin, Dewey, Erich Fromm and many others. This is not the place for an extended discussion of this complex body of thought. However, the theory of panic advanced here is consistent, in a general way, with this latter “school” of social thought. The central differences between the “constraint” view and what may be called the “prosocial” conception of man and society can be summed-up as follows. On the prosocial model, the dichotomy of “man”, on the one hand, and “society”, on the other, is false. The key idea is that man is basically good, a creative being, and he realizes his creative potentialities through spontaneous and unconstrained interaction with others and with external “objects”, as in craftsmanship. People only become recognizably human through their relationships with others – more particularly with a community of others. “Society” is thus, in a sense, the extension of each person through his own creative powers; man, in a sense, is society; he is his relationships. Conversely, never to be associated with others, or to be separated or torn away from others, is to lose one’s sense of self or identity, and hence to become something less than fully human, or less than fully potentiated as a human being. On this view, which derives from Marxian traditions, there can be no such thing as the “autonomous” human being, completely self-contained or self-sufficient. Individuality, or a sense of unique identity, is not something given in nature. Rather, it is realized or developed through human interaction. One is not born a human being, in this sense; one becomes a human being only within a social context; and one becomes a fully realized individual only within a certain kind of social context – one in which the relations between men are free or unconstrained. Raymond Williams (1961), in a fascinating chapter of his book The Long Revolution, points out that in medieval times the word “individual” meant inseparable – inseparable, that is, from the class of which it was a member. Slowly, and especially in the late 16th and early 17th centuries, people began to think of the individual as a kind of absolute – the individual “in his own right” – whereas formerly, to describe an individual “was to give an example of the group of which he was a member, and so to offer a particular description of that group and of the relationships within it” (p. 91). The change was reflected in the different ways in which a man could stand in relation to God. In medieval times, man was related to God through the Church; later man’s relation to Him was direct and personal. Erich Fromm observes that in medieval times “a person was identical with his role in society; he was a peasant, an artisan, a knight, and not an individual who happened to have this or that occupation” (Williams, 1961: 92). As social and geographical mobility increased, so the possibility of “becoming something else”

176


increased, and the idea of the individual as distinct from a fixed social role began to gain currency. Today, Williams says, “We have become increasingly conscious of individual existence as a thing separable from, more important than, an occupation, a social function, a social rank” (p. 93). We now tend to think of the individual as abstracted from the complex of relationships by which he has hitherto been defined. Historical changes can also be detected in the concept of society, where formerly it indicated an actual relationship; later, it took on a more general meaning of “the system of common life” and “society as a thing in ‘itself’”. Gradually, both concepts – individual and society – separated out; both came to be seen as abstractions and as absolutes. As Williams suggests, the major traditions of subsequent social thought have largely depended on these descriptions (p. 98). Thus, for Hobbes, man was simply a “bare human being”; the individual was the logical starting point for psychology, ethics and politics. And seeing individuals as basically selfish, Hobbes regarded society as a rational construction to restrain the inherently destructive elements in individual human nature and to enforce cooperation. By contrast, the prosocial model of man and society is the reverse of this, and seems rather to be rooted in the medieval view just described. At the risk of oversimplification, the “constraint” view assumes a pre-social historical state of anarchy and disorder, and the historical process as one in which human nature is gradually tamed and coerced by the civilizing influence of society. The prosocial view assumes the existence of a period in history in which people lived peaceably together, in communion with nature. The history of man since that mythical age has been one of increasing alienation from other people, from activity in work, and ipso facto, from oneself – for man is not fully human unless related in a non-coercive way with others. Karl Marx’s philosophy of history portrayed man as advancing through a stage of primitive communism to one of class conflict, and finally to the ultimate freedom of the new communism in which people finally became masters of their own destinies. The Marxist history of human society depicts a progressive alienation of man from his true nature and his fellowmen, to the point where, at the fullest development of the capitalist economic system, people would become aware of their alienation and overthrow the system. The revolution and the new communism which followed it would thus mark a return to the original (prosocial) condition or state of nonalienation or relatedness (for example, Marx and Engels, 1930). Underlying Marx’s specific hypotheses about the workings of the capitalist economy is a metatheoretical conception about social relations as they once were, as they are at present, and as they could be, if only people would recognize the nature and causes of their alienation. An “optimal” state of relatedness or non-alienation is postulated, from which all of subsequent human history is a deviation. But a return to the optimal state is possible when people become conscious of the workings of the capitalist system, which they have unwittingly helped to create and perpetuate. On the constraint model, however, social harmony and cooperativeness only exist by virtue of external control. Once control is “lifted”, man reverts to his normal (that is, natural) state of autonomy and self-interest.

Havens of Safety

177

Conclusion Returning to our theme, panic behavior on the constraint model constitutes a state in which such external control has been “lifted” – as one might say, the lid has been blown off the kettle. But on the prosocial model, cooperation and social harmony are the natural states of men: anarchy and self-interest are deviations from the natural state. Applying this idea to panic behavior, group ties or attachments between individuals are the natural state, incongruities of various kinds threaten the state of equilibrium, and stimulation-seeking is a negative-feedback mechanism designed to reaffirm attachments – to gain feedback to a cognitive map and thus to re-equilibrate the system linking one individual with another. This is not to deny that escape behavior in theater fires and other crowded venues can be “uncooperative” – often unwittingly so – nor that individuals in those situations tend to concentrate on their own survival and that of their immediate companions (see Chapter 20 for a research update). What we are denying is the notion that this is in some sense a natural state of man, which occurs when external controls are “lifted”. Moreover, the view has been emphasized that the entire process of escape does not consist simply of getting out of the building alive, continuing the example of the theater fire. Subsequent to actual escape from the building, attempts are quickly made to get home, to contact relatives and close friends – in short, to reaffirm social attachments. Marx’s macrosociological theory of human history can be described as a very slow, naturally-occurring homeostatic system, in which deviations from the optimal state of community/relatedness/non-alienation, are corrected for, centuries later, by revolution. The theory of panic advanced here can also be described in terms of a system with negative-feedback mechanisms. The theory does not distinguish “individual” from “group panics”. On this view, there is no difference between them in principle. Panic behavior simply provides a dramatic illustration of the operation of a homeostatic principle which occurs far less conspicuously whenever a slight incongruity is registered by the individual concerned, or by one or more individuals in the same situation. In the case of panic, the extent of incongruity is relatively greater and the corresponding increase in arousal and subsequent stimulation-seeking is relatively greater than in situations where slight incongruity is experienced. Panic behavior therefore constitutes what could be described as an intense search for “relatedness” (cf., Fromm, 1955) – or, as preferred here – an attempt to gain feedback to a cognitive map, and thus maintain the cognitive map. We began with the assumption that man could only “develop” as an individual (that is, develop a sense of self) by forming cognitive maps of his environment, including other people. This notion is consistent with the folk wisdom that one only “finds oneself through other people”. Moreover, individuals seek to maintain their attachments (embodied in cognitive maps). Thus there is a crucial sense in which man is his cognitive maps – he is his relationships with other people. Putting this in operational terms, his level of arousal, perceptual and cognitive organization are contingent on their continuity. He becomes frantic with alarm if they are threatened.

178


In summary, panic flight is not the result of “controls” being lifted from individuals, allowing naturally base and selfish natures to emerge. On the contrary, panic flight is the expression of an attempt to reaffirm attachments with others, that is, to gain feedback to a cognitive map threatened by incongruity. There is no such thing as “the autonomous human being”. The social nature of man is not something imposed on him by “external forces” of one sort or another: the social aspect of man is part of his very nature. People can only be human to the extent that they are related to others. This fact emerges clearly from studies of unfortunate “feral” children – often illegitimate children who have been reared in attics or basements with minimal social contact and who, not unexpectedly, are grossly retarded. In panic flight, animals and men are desperately searching for appropriate feedback for their cognitive maps. Panic, to use other language, is a state where personal identity is threatened. In seeking havens of safety, individuals are attempting to regain and reaffirm their sense of identity.

Chapter 16

Panic as Stimulation-Avoidance A fundamental characteristic of human beings and of many other species is their capacity for forming attachments to other humans, to other living things and to various aspects of the physical and psychological environment. These attachments are represented internally in the form of cognitive maps. Under certain circumstances, cognitive maps can be modified and changed, but normally individuals attempt to maintain them by searching for sensory feedback from the external sources of stimuli. When incongruities of various kinds are experienced, individuals seek to reduce the incongruity by a generalized stimulation-seeking response, which also has a relatively specific component: stimulation is sought from those objects to which the individual is most closely attached, or a particular physical location; in short, a haven of safety. Moderate to relatively intense incongruity results in correspondingly intense or vigorous stimulation-seeking. Fight or flight responses (“panic”) represent stimulation-seeking of high intensity. On this view, flight can be understood not as a breakdown of the “social fabric” or a return to a presocial, Hobbesian state of nature, but a negative-feedback mechanism designed to unite the fleeing individual with stimuli corresponding to his or her cognitive map. In the short run, so to speak, the object sought may be a temporary haven of safety away from physical danger. Subsequently, individuals attempt to be reunited with loved ones. Undue emphasis has been placed on the immediate response in theater-fire-type situations as opposed to observing and understanding the entire sequence of behaviors following the particular threat or disasters. One of the objections to current theories of panic (Chapter 14) is that flight does not always occur when a definite threat is believed to be present and escape routes are limited or closing. Another common response is immobility (“freezing”), especially if the individual is alone. Flight and immobility often occur in close succession and seem therefore to be closely related. I suggest that immobility responses are usefully interpreted as stimulation-avoidance behavior; that is, as a biological phenomenon that serves to minimize contact with the environment and to reduce all forms of sensory input. Not much is known about the nature and causes of immobility reactions. What follows is a description of some of the available data on the subject. One of the most striking findings brought to light by Marshall (1947) is that only a small proportion of men in combat actually fire their weapons. The figure he cites is between 15% and 25%, and this applies to “green” as well as seasoned troops. Marshall (1947: 50) writes:

180

Mass Panic and Social Attachment … a commander of infantry will be well-advised to believe that when he engages the enemy not more than one quarter of his men will ever strike a real blow unless they are compelled by almost over-powering circumstances or unless all junior leaders constantly “ride herd” on troops with the specific mission of increasing their fire. … The 25 percent estimate holds for well-trained and campaign-seasoned troops. I mean that 75 percent will not fire or will not persist in firing against the enemy and his works. These men face the danger but they will not fight.

On the basis of interviews with troops in the Central Pacific and European theater in World War II, Marshall found that, on average, not more than 15% had actually fired at enemy positions or personnel with rifles, carbines, grenades, bazookas, BARs, or machine-guns during the course of an entire engagement. When the dead and wounded were taken into account, and the assumption was made that the proportion of active firers among them would be the same as among the rest, the figure did not rise above 20% to 25% of the total for any action. Of the most vigorous and aggressive companies, only one man in four had made at least some use of his fire power. Later on, Marshall suggests an explanation. The failure of the average soldier to fire is not in the main due to conscious recognition of the fact that the act of firing may entail increased exposure. It is a result of a paralysis which comes of varying fears. The man afraid wants to do nothing; indeed he does not care even to think of taking action. (p. 71, italics added)

Another general example of this kind is mentioned by Marshall. Panic extended to the point of utter fatigue produces an atrophy of body and spirit. I have seen such panic in the faces of men during amphibious operations. The enemy confronted them and the sea was at their back; there was no place to run even if they had been capable of movement. They sat there dumbly in the line of fire, their minds blanked out, their fingers too nerveless to hold a weapon. (p. 148)

Based on Marshall’s observations it appears that immobility responses are more prevalent in combat situations than one would ordinarily suppose. Trautman (1964: 136) describes a case of immobilization – he calls it the “Totstell-reflex” – in a girl who had been thrown to the ground by two dogs in a Nazi concentration camp and who was being savagely beaten by a sadistic SS woman. The girl suddenly stopped screaming and lay impassive and motionless, whereupon the torturer walked away apparently satisfied. Meerloo (1950) describes immobility reactions as “sham death” and suggests that it may provide a kind of camouflage from attackers. He links it to the mimicry of some of the lower animals who assume the characteristics of their environment when threatened. Immobility reactions in humans, often accompanied by states of depersonalization or derealization, have been observed in a wide variety of situations ranging from combat to bombing raids and natural disasters (for example, Tyhurst, 1951; Crawshaw, 1963; Sours, 1965).

Panic as Stimulation-Avoidance

181

Immobility responses in animals are well documented. Hinde (1966: 289) describes how wild-caught Great and Blue Tits, when held in the hand, sometimes lie on the outstretched palm for a minute or more, their eyes open but their bodies limp. At a sharp noise, or when thrown into the air, they fly immediately. Similar response to handling or stroking occur in many animals and are often accompanied by analgesia. In moments of great stress, chicks tend to crouch or “freeze”. This reaction can be induced by holding the chick down for 10–15 seconds. Ratner and Thompson (1960), in a study of over 200 white Leghorn chicks and 83 pure bred male Cobb chicks, found that the immobility response was virtually absent before the age of seven to 10 days. Once induced, however, immobility would often be maintained for as long as 12 minutes. According to Ratner and Thompson, immobility reactions are more likely to occur in socially housed than in isolated chicks. However, Salzen (1963) found that in socially housed chicks tested at the age of eight days, and at 14 to 16 days, the reaction was less likely to occur if the test was conducted in the presence of other chicks. This finding provides a further illustration of the observation, repeatedly described earlier in this work, that the presence of familiar figures has a calming effect in the presence of external threat. As we have interpreted this fact, the presence of familiar objects in the face of incongruity provides constant feedback to the organism’s cognitive map, and thus serves to reduce the level of arousal. Further data on immobility responses in avian species can be found in Ratner (1967) and Gallup et al. (1970). Blanchard and Blanchard (reported in Blanchard and Fial, 1968) have shown that brief electric foot shock produces an “immobile”, crouching response in the rat; that the reaction can be elicited by the cues of the shock situation after a single shock; and the tendency to crouch is an increasing function of shock intensity. Classic accounts of the immobility response are undoubtedly those of Steiniger (1936) and Hediger (1955). Hediger classifies it as a form of escape behavior. A chapter of his fascinating book, The Psychology and Behavior of Animals in Zoos and Circuses, is devoted to this topic, and contains many remarkable and often entertaining vignettes and “travelers’ tales”, ranging over many species, including man. One of the points he makes that is highly pertinent to our hypotheses about the nature of aggressive behavior (Chapter 11) is that the immobility reaction “helps to avoid enemies”. For example, he describes how the missionary and explorer, David Livingstone, was once seized by a lion “which shook him, just as a terrier shakes a rat” (p. 52.) The shock caused a kind of stupor, in which he remained as though dead, but was able to register every detail of what was happening without feeling pain or fear. Livingstone’s survival from this episode was attributed to his complete immobility. Hediger also notes that “Brood hens often escape with their lives, when attacked by martens, through sitting quite still on their nests and not provoking the predators to attack by their attempts to escape” (p. 53). In Chapter 11, I suggested that aggressive behavior could be usefully understood as an expression of intense stimulation-seeking, in which sensory stimulation results not only from motor activity but from vigorous contact with other (especially

182


animate and moving) objects. If the underlying biological motive for “aggression” is intense stimulation, predators (or highly “aggressive” persons) would be expected to seek out appropriately intense sources of external stimulation as objects of “attack” and avoid “unstimulating” objects. Indeed, this is precisely the modus operandi of predatory species. This hypothesis may provide an explanation for the survival value of the immobility response. Since the immobile animal (or human) provides minimal stimulation to a stimulus-hungry predator, it is not attacked. In support of this point, observations on domestic cats remind us that usually it is only when a mouse or shrew has been deliberately goaded into making a brief movement that a cat will pounce and bite. Hediger (1955) describes many similar instances. He points out that “the grass snake when ready for food … does not recognize the frog sitting motionless; but the moment it hops away, the snake darts out and seizes it” (p. 57). This completes our survey of the range of responses that have been subsumed under the category of “panic” behavior. As argued previously, the term panic is an evaluative and arbitrary one. Doubtless, people will continue to use the term in this arbitrary and evaluative way, just as they will continue to talk about their activities in terms of, for example, eating, drinking, sexuality and so on. To some extent, our vocabulary would be impoverished without them. We do need to make these arbitrary distinctions, for a variety of reasons. The point I have sought to make is that terms like panic, eating, drinking, affiliating, and so on, are of limited scientific value, and that motivational-emotional activity is more usefully described scientifically in terms of the broader concepts of stimulation-seeking and stimulation-avoidance. We have sought to integrate wild running, flight or flight behavior, on the one hand, and immobility responses, on the other, in terms of a general theory of emotional behavior. All scientific statements are provisional, and if open to falsification they perform a function in helping to generate further questions that can further guide inquiry. The principle of Occam’s razor notwithstanding, it would be remarkable if our model utilizing the concepts of arousal, stimulation-seeking and stimulation-avoidance, was anything but provisional. Many difficulties face the present analysis, but we believe a successful model will be one which eschews the notions of specific “drives” and specific emotions as they are usually classified. The concluding chapters provide conceptual refinements and, it is hoped, carry the theory a step further forward.

PART IV Further Considerations


Chapter 17

Two Systems of Arousal Here we enlarge on the theory presented in Part II and develop a more refined model. The following chapter reviews data that support the model on a neuropsychological level. This chapter is divided into four sections: (a) the relation between immobility and arousal; (b) stimulation, arousal, and temporal effects; (c) beyond arousal theory; (d) relation between arousal and stimulation-seeking. Some additional thoughts and refinements regarding the concept of stimulationseeking and the organization are presented in the Appendix. Relation Between Immobility and Arousal “Activation” theorists (for example, Hebb, 1955; Malmo, 1959; Lindsley, 1960; Duffy, 1962) have assumed that the level of arousal increases linearly with “stressful” stimulation, and that wild excitement constitutes the upper end of the response continuum. Pavlov (1927), on the other hand, suggested there was an upper limit of total excitation beyond which cortical damage could occur. As this limit was approached, protective or “trans-marginal” inhibition occurred and the organism appeared to “shut down” as if in defense. Pavlov’s physiological hypotheses are outmoded (Kimble, 1961) but his observations on “neurotic” behavior in dogs are still of great importance. Of particular interest was his observation that experimental animals, sometimes in the midst of a conditioning sequence involving strong stimulation, would suddenly fall asleep, a fact which he attributed to generalized inhibition. Other evidence suggests that extreme stress leads to seemingly reduced levels of arousal rather than increased levels. Diethelm (1932: 1164) points out that in states of extreme stress, convulsion-like states appear with jerky movements of certain muscles, and respiration rate drops to 12, lasting about an hour. Newton and Gantt (1968) described the physiological responses of a “psychotic” dog. In the presence of humans, this dog would adopt catatonic postures accompanied by marked cardiovascular changes in which the normal heart rate of around 200 beats/minute fell over 170 beats/minute, down to 12 beats/minute. There was also a concomitant fall in systolic blood pressure, from 150 mmHg when the dog was alone, to 75


186

mmHg when a person came in contact with the dog. On occasion, the presence of a human produced total cardiac arrest in the dog for as long as 8 seconds. The catecholamine neurotransmitter, noradrenaline, is newly synthesized and utilized in a variety of stressful or emotional states (Kety, 1970), especially in “fight” or “flight” reactions. Mild forms of stress elicit a significant increase in the turnover of noradrenaline (Thierry et al., 1968). However, rats subjected to severe stress by intense electric shocks to the feet show a marked depletion of brain noradrenaline (Maynert and Levi, 1964). Thus, in states that we would expect to be accompanied by signs of intense arousal, including the excretion of noradrenaline, this particular biogenic amine associated with arousal is markedly depleted. Lader and Wing (1966: 90) describe how in one of their patients a panic attack was cut short by an episode of derealization associated with a dramatic change in physiological readings. The patient appeared moderately anxious before the experiment began and for the first two-thirds of the experiment showed all the physiological symptoms of anxiety, for example, fall in skin resistance (that is, increase in skin conductance), many fluctuations in skin conductance, and rapid pulse. Physiological activity then increased somewhat, for example, the already rapid pulse accelerated. Suddenly, however, the pattern changed to that of a normal subject: psychogalvanic responses to the stimuli declined and almost disappeared; spontaneous fluctuations petered out and the pulse rate dropped. On later questioning, the patient described how she felt a panic attack coming on for about 10 seconds and thought she would have to quit the experiment. But the attack suddenly subsided and she began to feel as if her surroundings were unreal. The feeling of derealization persisted until the end of the experiment. Kelly and Walter (1968) subsequently showed that in a group of psychiatric patients, those with “primary depersonalization” (n=8) had the lowest mean basal forearm blood flow of any group (including persons with agitated and non-agitated depression, schizophrenia, phobic states, obsessional neuroses, personality disorders, and hysteria). However, the depersonalized subjects had higher but not significantly higher basal anxiety self-ratings than even those with chronic anxiety. The authors concluded that a discrepancy may exist between patients’ subjective anxiety level and anxiety measured autonomically.1 Depersonalization, then, as a reaction to acute stress (that is, incongruity) is accompanied not by very high levels of arousal but rather by low or normal levels of 1

On the other hand, Sedman’s (1968) group of depersonalized subjects (n=18) had lower but not significantly lower self-rated anxiety scale scores than anxious controls. The depersonalized group resembled the depressive controls. Sedman, incidentally, investigated all subjects with unequivocal evidence of depersonalization irrespective of the presence or absence of other illness in the patient, whereas Kelly and Walter only investigated intractable cases of “primary depersonalization” – that is, long-standing cases of depersonalization without any definite evidence of other psychiatric illness. Sedman (1970) concluded on the basis of his own study that there was little evidence that anxiety played a causal role in depersonalization. Diethelm (1932) observed that the respiratory rate in a patient with epileptiform seizures dropped to 12.

Two Systems of Arousal

187

arousal, at least on certain dimensions. The implications of these facts are discussed below. To summarize, the level of arousal is not a direct, linear function of the degree of stress/incongruity; instead, the association appears to take the form of an inverted U. Stimulation, Arousal, and Temporal Effects Certain forms of sensory stimulation can raise the level of arousal, but high levels of arousal can also be reduced by stimulation under certain conditions. For example, at different points in this work evidence has been presented that behavior of many kinds, for example, aggression, rocking, stroking and eating (see also Barnett, 1963), can reduce arousal. Moderately intense and even supposedly painful stimuli applied following a painful stimulus can reduce the pain of the initial stimulus and produce cardiac deceleration in many species, including man (Lacey, 1967: 33–35; Lang and Hnatiow, 1962; McDonald et al., 1963; Geer, 1964; Obrist et al., 1965). Vigorous action of practically any form can also reduce arousal, as can direct stimulation of certain brain areas (see below). The hypothesis of “inhibition by sensory feedback” proposes that incongruity increases arousal and leads to an increase in stimulation-seeking aimed at familiar stimuli (“congruous” input), which in turn reduces arousal. Reactions to different degrees of incongruity have also been discussed. However, little has been said thus far about the temporal patterning of events following prolonged incongruity. There is evidence both of biological rhymicity independent of external environmental changes (for example, Wolf 1962), and of fluctuating physiological changes in response to an invariant stimulus. To give an example of the latter, if an extremity, such as the hand, is immersed in cold water, compensatory vasoconstriction first occurs in the fingers. With continued immersion, vasodilatation occurs. And with prolonged immersion, the fingers show a cycling pattern of vasoconstriction and vasodilatation (Lewis, 1929), a phenomenon that has so far eluded satisfactory explanation (Teichner, 1968). Several commentators in Appley and Trumbull’s (1967) useful collection of articles on Psychological Stress make the point that temporal aspects have been neglected in stress research. Mechanic (1962, p. 207), for example, mentions that in his longitudinal study of doctoral examination stress, the attitudes of students towards their examinations changed week by week. Similarly, Opler (1967, p. 222) reminds us that psychotics are not psychotic at all times, and that it is mistaken to view mental illness in terms of “steady-states” or unchanging disease entities. More emphasis, he suggests, needs be given to processes or changes in the values of variables over time, which may help to resolve conflicting findings on the nature of “mental illnesses”. Altmann (p. 318) states that a major criticism of social psychology is its lack of concern with social psychological phenomena as they occur through time, and that complex phenomena are all too often studied in the context of brief laboratory experiments. Such cross-sectional studies (undertaken at a single point in time) tend to obscure the functional relations between variables.


188

With regard to the temporal patterning of stress, a basic principle that appears to underlie a variety of supposedly unrelated phenomena is that prolonged physiological and motor activity are followed by fatigue and inactivity. On the surface, prolonged high levels of arousal are followed by a decline in arousal level. However, closer inspection suggests that prolonged activation of one branch of the autonomic nervous system is followed by activation of the other branch. Thus prolonged sympathetic nervous system arousal is eventually followed by parasympathetic activity.2 This basic phenomenon seems to underlie the numerous observations. Zuckerman (1964) commented on the “loss of motivation” which characteristically follows prolonged sensory deprivation. Cofer and Appley (1964: 135, 142, 168) cite studies indicating that sluggishness and general fatigue follow prolonged anxiety or stress. Emotional excitement and rapid response elicitation are followed by strong inhibition leading to sleep and drowsiness. “Post-flight let-down”, a general feeling of lassitude and fatigue, has been observed in American Navy fliers (Basowitz et al., 1955). The well-known fatigue and apathy which often follow examinations and childbirth may also be expressions of the same basic phenomenon. In his classic paper on “Ulcers in ‘Executive Monkeys’”, Brady (1958a) reported that gastric hydrochloric acid secretions associated with ulceration and subsequent death in monkeys tended to occur in the rest period after the “stressful” performance itself. This may be another case of prolonged sympathetic arousal giving way to “rebound” parasympathetic activation (see also Rioch, 1971). Bovard et al. (1957) found that psychiatric patients who had been severely depressed for an extended period had lower cortisol levels than those observed with short-term or acute depressions. After prolonged depression, adrenal exhaustion or a decreased adrenal response occurred. Studies of schizophrenic patients suggest that marked sympathetic arousal occurs in the acute or initial phase, as in patients with the diagnosis of “acute anxiety”, whereas parasympathetic dominance is more often seen in chronic schizophrenics (see for example, Pfister, 1938; Ekolovia-Bagalei, 1955). Dramatic cases of apathy and depression following prolonged stress have been reported in concentration camp inmates. Many deaths in Korean camps could not 2

The sympathetic and parasympathetic nervous systems are the two divisions of the peripheral autonomic nervous system: Grossman (1967: 175) lists the main effects associated with parasympathetic and sympathetic functioning as follows: Parasympathetic: (a) pupillary constriction; (b) increased secretion of the sub maxillary, sublingual, and lacrimal glands; (c) inhibition of cardiac functions and coronary vasoconstriction; (d) constriction of bronchial musculature; (e) increased peristalsis of the digestive tract and increased secretion of hydrochloric acid in the stomach; (f) inhibition of anal and vesical (urinary) sphincter muscles; and (g) vasodilatation of cutaneous vessels. Sympathetic: (a) dilatation of the pupils; (b) increase in salivary and lacrimal gland secretions; (c) acceleration of cardiac activity and coronary vasodilatation; (d) inhibition of peristalsis and vasoconstriction of intestinal blood vessels; (e) contraction of anal and internal (renal) sphincters; (f) vasoconstriction, excitation of pilomotor muscles, and secretion of sweat glands.


189

be accounted for by the presence of a physical disease. Most of these men became extremely apathetic, declined food, lay down in a corner and expired (GAP, 1957: 256). Different labels have been attached to this phenomenon, including “fatal surrender” (Nardini, 1952), “give-up-itis” (Anderson et al., 1954), and “bamboo disease” (Katz, 1950). Individuals who succumbed in this manner in the Nazi concentration camps were described as “Muslims” (Kogon, 1950). An identical pattern of responses has been observed in troops subjected to prolonged periods of combat. The classic description of this “Old Sergeant’s Syndrome” (Sobel, 1947) includes a progressive deterioration in attitudes and performance, loss of self-confidence, withdrawal from social activity and apathy (see also Janis, 1963). Further evidence of apathy and depression following prolonged stress is found in the extensive literature on infants in institutional settings. Spitz and Wolf (1945) studied 123 infants ages six to 12 months and reported in detail on 19 cases. They found that continued weeping and other signs of intense distress eventually gave way to marked rigidity or withdrawal, insomnia, loss of weight, and a gradual decline in the rate of development. In severe cases a condition of marasmus (stupor and wasting) was observed. A similar picture emerges from animal studies. Kaufman and Rosenblum (1967) found that three out of four infant monkeys reacted to separation from the mother by an initial period of agitated searching followed by a phase of seemingly deep depression and withdrawal. In this latter phase, postural collapse, immobility, withdrawal from the environment, and a reduction in “visceralautonomic”, vocal and expressive activity were all observed. In earlier chapters it was noted that intense activity in combat is often followed by apathy and fatigue. Marshall (1947) describes an infantry unit which had been alternately ordered and cajoled into making an extremely hazardous 700-yard charge across open territory to within a few yards of the enemy. Several men were killed in the action, but most of the unit survived and found themselves in a tactically secure position. Seven hours elapsed, however, before the men could be urged to continue the engagement. In his classic paper on “Voodoo Death”, Walter Cannon (1942) analyzed several cases of death that had occurred in members of non-literate tribes who had broken a taboo or were convinced that they were bewitched. Cannon’s view was that extreme anxiety produced loss of appetite and sweating. Decreased fluid and food intake and loss of salts and fluids from sweating brought about a literal wasting away of the body, resulting in death. Following up Cannon’s paper, Richter (1957) described how wild Norway rats, when placed in a cloth bag, then taken out to have their whiskers clipped and forced to swim, drowned almost immediately. The rats seemed to “give up” without making any attempts to stay afloat. Richter suggested that death may have been due to a parasympathetic over-discharge, leading to cardiac arrest, akin to vaso-vagal syncope (cf. Raab, 1971). To conclude, prolonged incongruity/stress and consequently prolonged high levels of sympathetic arousal eventually produce the following partially overlapping set of responses: loss of motivation/sluggishness/fatigue/apathy; drowsiness or


190

sleep; depressive affect;3 social withdrawal; anorexia;4 cardiac deceleration; decline in cortisol levels; and increased gastric secretion. The overall picture is clearly suggestive of parasympathetic dominance. The general reaction is also similar to the pattern of responding described above as stimulation-avoidance. Earlier in this chapter evidence was presented that immobility was accompanied by reduced physiological arousal levels. But “freezing” is often accompanied by micturition and defecation (for example, Tobach and Schneirla, 1962) and these responses result from parasympathetic activity (Grossman, 1967: 175). This provides further evidence for our contention that stimulation avoidance is an expression of parasympathetic activity. Just as stimulation-seeking behaviors can be ranked on a continuum of intensity, stimulation-avoidance behaviors also form a continuum. Mild forms of stimulationavoidance might be said to include food refusal, social withdrawal, listlessness, increased peripheral receptor thresholds and mild gastrointestinal disturbance. Intense forms of stimulation-avoidance would include immobility, urination, defecation, strong cardiac deceleration (bradycardia), decreased skin conductance, hypotension, derealization, wasting, stupor or comatose states. In summary, it is proposed that (1) stimulation-seeking behavior is associated with sympathetic arousal, stimulation-avoidance with parasympathetic arousal; (2) both stimulation-seeking and stimulation-avoidance behaviors can be ranked on a continuum of intensity; (3) prolonged sympathetic arousal is followed by “rebound” parasympathetic activity;5 and (4) moderate degrees of incongruity lead to sympathetic activity, whereas very strong incongruity leads to a parasympathetic response (see Figure 17.1).

3

In fact, “depressive affect” cannot be regarded as a distinctively parasympathetic response, since it can be associated with manic or hyperactive behavior (sympathetic activation). Similarly, feelings of contentment, happiness or elation cannot be regarded as exclusively the result of sympathetic activity, since contentment can follow a meal and accompany urination and defecation (when parasympathetic activation dominates); and also when humans and animals such as cats are stroked, the latter of which is associated with cardiac deceleration and other parasympathetic effects (von Euler and Soderberg, 1958). Clearly, the antitheses of “pleasure and pain, happiness and sadness” hinder rather than facilitate the search for understanding in human behavior. 4 It is of interest that anorexia nervosa (refusal to eat) is accompanied by a non-specific syndrome equivalent but opposite to that accompanying over-eating, that is, amenorrhoea/loss of libido or potency, reduced output of oestrogen in females and androgen in males, bradycardia, hypertension, hypothermia, dry skin, reduced basal metabolic rate, hypercholesterolaemia and diminution of activity. Consistent with the theory developed in Chapter 18, anorexia nervosa is thought to be due to hypothalamic dysfunction (British Medical Journal, 1971; 4:183). 5 Gellhorn developed similar ideas to these (Gellhorn and Loufbourrow, 1963; Gellhorn, 1967, 1967, 1968) and to those in Chapter 18, although the present formulation (Chapter 18) differs from Gellhorn’s in a number of respects.


191

Figure 17.1 Relationship between degrees of incongruity, S.N.S./P.N.S. arousal, and stimulation-seeking

How do these points relate to the general theory proposed earlier? A negative-feedback system has been described in which human beings seek to maintain the familiar world internalized in their cognitive maps. Perceived changes in the environment are followed by physiological and behavioral responses designed to restore and reaffirm

192


a threatened cognitive map. Humans build cognitive maps of their environment and try to maintain them by obtaining sensory stimulation from the external sources of stimulation represented in their maps. When incongruity with respect to the cognitive map occurs, people are “motivated” to seek congruity; physiological (sympathetic nervous system) arousal increases and stimulation-seeking occurs. The model states that when congruity between input and the cognitive map is achieved the level of arousal declines or, rather, the level of parasympathetic arousal increases. To illustrate the model, consider a child who has been frightened by the appearance of a stranger. If the child shows signs of sympathetic arousal, we assume that the stimulus is incongruous. Increased arousal is followed by increased stimulation-seeking. The latter can be regarded as having two components: a nonspecific physiological and motor component, and a directional component. The peripheral sensory receptors increase in sensitivity, for example, the pupils dilate; skin conductance increases; pilomotor erection occurs; hearing becomes more acute; visual, oral and olfactory sensitivity increase, accompanied by increased taste sensitivity and flaring of the nostrils. There is a nonspecific increase in motor activity; that is, depending on availability, food and liquids may be consumed, and various forms of self-stimulation may occur. The specific component of stimulation-seeking is directional in that the child orients and moves towards the key external sources of stimulation represented in his cognitive map – his mother. Depending on the degree of incongruity, directional stimulation-seeking may be mild (for example, approach behavior) or intense (for example, hugging, fierce clinging). The appearance of an incongruous stimulus increases the level of sympathetic arousal and motivates the individual to seek further stimulation, both nonspecific quantitative increases in stimulation and specific qualitative stimulation in the form of stimulus objects mapped in the child’s cognitive map. The child will consequently “search” for his mother. Keeping mother in sight or clinging to her (depending on the degree of incongruity), provides the necessary feedback to the child’s cognitive map. Obtaining stimulation derived from the object represented in the cognitive map constitutes congruity with the map, leading to increased parasympathetic arousal and hence reduced sympathetic “arousal”. In summary, while increased stimulation-seeking following incongruity is due to increased sympathetic nervous system (SNS) arousal, the subsequently-achieved congruity with the cognitive map activates a mechanism that elicits a parasympathetic response pattern, including cardiac deceleration. The hypothesis of inhibition by sensory feedback proposes that the sensory input resulting from stimulation-seeking activity due to increased SNS serves to inhibit the SNS by activating the PNS. As suggested in Chapter 8, the mechanism by which moderate to intense stimulation “reduces arousal” is somewhat analogous to the phenomenon of lateral inhibition, in which the neuronal activity resulting from the stimulation of peripheral receptors at one locus can be inhibited by the activity resulting from stimulation at an adjoining site. The stimulation-seeking response


193

following incongruity thus provides the further stimulation necessary to accomplish a lateral inhibition-like effect. However, prolonged or very intense SNS arousal can be give rise to PNS effects directly; that is, independently of stimulation-seeking, suggesting a “shortcircuiting” process. Recalling the autonomic cycling of cutaneous vasoconstriction and vasodilatation following immersion of the hand in cold water, the cold water can be considered an incongruous stimulus which first elicits vasoconstriction (SNS response). When sympathetic discharge builds up to a certain level, “congruous” external input not having been received, a central mechanism may be activated that automatically elicits parasympathetic vasodilatation. The incongruous stimulation still persists, however, so that the local PNS discharge is terminated by renewed SNS discharge (vasoconstriction) in response to the cold water. Once again, when SNS discharge builds up to a given level, an inhibitory mechanism automatically elicits parasympathetic vasodilatation; and so the cycle continues. This cycling effect may be the result of reciprocal inhibition of brain mechanisms which occurs if the organism is unable to terminate incongruous stimulation by means of external environmental stimulation. Thus the “lateral inhibition” effect seen at the level of the peripheral sensory receptors may be the result of “reciprocal inhibition” in higher brain centers or pathways (see Chapter 18).6 The presumed sympathetic and parasympathetic cycling effect of prolonged incongruity of immersing a hand in cold water can be considered a highly localized stimulus. Most of the examples discussed above involved massive degrees of incongruity, affecting the whole organism. Consider now a hypothetical situation involving a high degree of incongruity. The example given previously to illustrate the process of externally-achieved inhibition of sympathetic arousal was that of a child who, confronted by the presence of a stranger, sought proximity with mother. But what would be expected to occur in situations in which proximity with mother cannot be achieved, for example, the case where a child is removed from his mother and placed in institutional care? Assuming that the child has formed an attachment to his mother (that is, formed a cognitive map of her sensory characteristics), the child’s initial response to the incongruity of separation is strong sympathetic arousal, which is at once nonspecific and directed towards regaining contact with her. This is the stage of protest described so vividly by Bowlby (1960a): The initial phase, that of Protest, may last from a few hours to a week or more. During it the young child appears acutely distressed at having lost his mother and seeks to recapture her by the full exercise of his limited powers. He will often cry loudly, shake his cot, 6 The course of the General Adaptation Syndrome (Selye, 1950) may be analogous, at a systemic level, to the cycling effects of cutaneous vasoconstriction and vasodilatation. Thus, the stage of alarm is associated with sympathetic-adrenal arousal, which is automatically inhibited after a period of time by parasympathetic activity (that is, the second stage of resistance, in which biochemical and autonomic activity appears to return to normal levels). The third stage of exhaustion may constitute a renewed but transient sympathetic discharge as a result of the continued presence of the stressor(s).

194

Mass Panic and Social Attachment throw himself about and look eagerly towards any sight or sound which might prove to be his missing mother. All his behavior suggests the strong expectation thatshe will

return. Meanwhile he is apt to reject all alternative figures who offer to do things for him, though some children will cling desperately to a nurse. (p. 2) Unable to achieve congruous sensory feedback because mother fails to return, the child’s SNS arousal response is eventually inhibited in a short-circuiting fashion by PNS. Thus strong SNS arousal gives way to strong “rebound” PNS arousal, accompanied by the various signs and symptoms described earlier, such as food refusal, withdrawal, immobility, increased sensory thresholds, slowed metabolic rate, reduced motor activity and, in severe cases, marasmus. The postulated PNS rebound effect corresponds to the second phase described by Bowlby, that of despair, in which the child’s behavior: … suggests increasing hopelessness. The active physicalmovements diminish or come to … an end, and he may cry monotonously or intermittently. He is withdrawn and inactive, makes no demands on the environment, and appears to be in a state of deep mourning. This is a quiet stage, and sometimes, quite erroneously, is presumed to indicate a diminution of distress (p. 2).

Bowlby’s third stage of detachment occurs when the child begins to show renewed signs of motor activity and responsiveness to the nursing personnel, yet shows diminished responsiveness to his mother when and if she returns at this stage. This phenomenon suggests that attachment to the mother has weakened (that is, the cognitive map is disintegrating), and the child may be ready to form new attachments. This is not to suggest, however, that the child’s cognitive map of his mother has disintegrated fully; deep attachments, once formed, remain intact for years, even in the absence of contact or other forms of external sensory feedback, and the adverse physiological impact of separation can be very profound. On the other hand, to the extent that the child’s cognitive map of his mother does begin to “disintegrate” following a long period of separation, continued separation from the mother would presumably cease, eventually, to be experienced as incongruous. Hence, autonomic functioning should return to baseline levels. It is of interest that in Kaufman and Rosenblum’s (1967) study of the response to separation in infant monkeys, the phase of withdrawal (“despair) was followed after about a week by what seemed a “spontaneous” recovery, even though the mothers were not returned to the infants, suggesting a parallel with Bowlby’s concept of detachment. In summary, a parasympathetic response may replace a sympathetic response independently of stimulation generated by the organism, when SNS arousal builds up to a certain level. A corollary hypothesis is that the greater the intensity of sympathetic discharge, the stronger will be the rebound parasympathetic inhibition. Thus the most dramatic cases of withdrawal and other signs of parasympathetic activity would typically occur in situations of massive and prolonged incongruity, as the observations cited earlier suggest.


195

Beyond Arousal Theory Stimulation-seeking and stimulation-avoidance, then, are response patterns associated with sympathetic and parasympathetic activity, respectively; violent motor activity (for example, flight, aggression, displacement activities) represents stimulationseeking, while diminished motor activity, immobility, cardiac deceleration, and increased sensory thresholds represent stimulation-avoidance, which reflects increased parasympathetic activity. “Activation theorists” have equated “level of arousal” with sympathetic arousal, for example, increased heart rate and blood pressure, pupillary dilatation, pilomotor erection, and increased skin conductance, while the parasympathetic division of the autonomic nervous system has been relatively ignored. The concepts of stimulation-seeking and avoidance may be useful in interpreting a number of hitherto puzzling observations regarding the physiological response to environmental stimulation. Lacey (1959), a prominent critic of activation theory, states that arousal processes reflect not only the intensity of behavior but also the intended aim or goal. He has shown that in certain circumstances increased palmar conductance is accompanied by cardiac deceleration and decreased systolic blood pressure, that is, the opposite reactions expected on the hypothesis that all measures of “arousal” increase simultaneously (Lacey et al., 1963; Lacey, 1967). Lacey regards such evidence as refuting the hypothesis of a unidimensional continuum of arousal ranging from calm to wild excitement. According to him, “electroencephalographic, autonomic, motor, and other behavior systems are imperfectly coupled, completely interacting systems” (Lacey, 1967: 15). Stimuli usually considered unpleasant produce cardiac acceleration. In one study (Lacey et al., 1963), three groups of subjects were presented with eight “stressor situations” in different order. The stressors ranged from mild to severe; some required only attentive observation of the environment, such as mental arithmetic, and the problem was presented orally. Most of the time was spent in problem-solving activity. Results showed that situations involving: sensory intake specifically produced a response pattern that included cardiac deceleration and a restraint of systolic blood pressure increase (we did not measure diastolic pressure) to the vanishing point … in some samples and situations blood pressure increased. The situations on the other end of the continuum produced the usual massive increases in heart rate and blood pressure. Other variables, such as respiratory rate and palmar conductance, not only showed the more usual activation pattern but did not differentiate the two sets of experimental conditions in any way. (Lacey, 1967: 34)

Lacey interpreted these results as showing that “depressor-decelerative processes facilitated intake and … pressor-accelerator responses tended to filter out irrelevant stimuli that have distraction-value for the performance of internalized cognitive elaboration” (ibid.: 34–35). As noted in the previous chapter, cardiac deceleration is also associated with massive incongruity, as in immobility reactions; and this response is associated with increased sensory thresholds, suggesting rejection of

196


sensory intake rather than the reverse. Conversely, cardiac acceleration is associated with lowered sensory thresholds suggesting facilitation of input (see Duffy, 1962, Chapter 7, for a review of such evidence). In terms of the conceptual scheme outlined above, cardiac acceleration is a sympathetic response while cardiac deceleration is a parasympathetic response. Here it has been suggested that SNS inhibition is achieved via external stimulation generated by the organism itself. Thus, Lacey’s initial presentation of the stimulus could have resulted in a brief sympathetic response accompanied by increased palmar conductance and cardiac acceleration (cf. Graham and Clifton, 1966). Further sensory input received following this response would, according to the theory, elicit PNS arousal, which would inhibit SNS activity and reduce heart rate (for example, vagal activation). This is what Lacey et al. found when subjects were “taking in” the stimulus (for example, the flashing light). Thus, cardiac deceleration could be interpreted not as facilitating sensory/environmental intake, but as a response to stimulation.7 The concept of “level of arousal” thus needs to be decomposed initially into sympathetic and parasympathetic arousal. Even if these systems are generally mutually inhibitory, some degree of overlap would be expected as one system inhibited the other, even when inhibition is sudden and dramatic, as in states of extreme states of stress associated with immobility. Hence, increased skin conductance could be accompanied by heart rate deceleration (for example) under such conditions. Relation Between Arousal Level and Stimulation-Seeking If the concept of level of arousal as used by the activation theorists refers to sympathetic nervous system (SNS), how does SNS arousal, defined in terms of peripheral autonomic activity, relate to the concept of stimulation-seeking? Does one activate the other, or are both activated simultaneously by higher brain mechanisms? In discussing the hypothesis of inhibition by sensory feedback (Section III, above), it was suggested that SNS arousal and stimulation-seeking are separatelyidentifiable events and that SNS arousal leads to the stimulation-seeking response. But the relationship between arousal level and stimulation-seeking is unclear, since it was postulated that peripheral receptor activity was part of the stimulation-seeking response and thus separate from measures of arousal which supposedly produced it. For example, while cardiovascular and electroencephalographic changes are 7 The heart rate deceleration observed in experiments on “orienting” may also represent a “rebound” phenomenon (see Chapter 18, Section VI, for a further discussion). Much of this work is based on a stimulus-response (S-R) paradigm, which neglects feedback processes (cf. Hunt, 1963). In addition, the literature on the OR (orienting response) and DR (defense response) is vitiated by tautological definitions of these concepts. For example, at times bradycardia is regarded as a definition of the OR; at other times it is cited as a correlate of the OR. The same problem is inherent in the concept of arousal: sometimes arousal is defined in terms of increased heart rate, at other times it is cited as evidence of arousal.


197

measures of arousal level, it was suggested that pupillary dilatation, increased palmar conductance and piloerection were part of an overall stimulation-seeking response. The concept of level of arousal, however, conventionally includes all of these responses. In his classic text, The Wisdom of the Body, Cannon (1932) spoke of the sympathetic system as preparing the body for “fight or flight”. Like most researchers before and since, Cannon assumed an unproblematic distinction between “internal” physiological processes and “overt behavior” such as aggression or flight. The body was said to prepare itself for action, and then acted. The concept of SNS activity carried with it the assumption that physiological activity was something separately identifiable from overt (or “motor”) behavior. The traditional separation of physiological and motor behavior reflects the fact that the function of the peripheral receptors is still not well understood. The various sensory modalities have been studied in isolation from each other on the assumption that they were separate systems having different functions corresponding to each modality, namely, taste, smell, hearing, touch and vision. It has long been recognized that peripheral receptor thresholds are lowered as a general accompaniment to stress or emotional excitement. Ribot (1911) reported that Claude Bernard, in 1852, showed that “section of the great sympathetic in the neck” produced, along with increased temperature and muscular tonicity on that side, an increase in “sensibility” (cited in Duffy, 1962: 119). On the other hand, the role of sweating in emotional behavior was uncertain. Darrow (1933, 1936) suggested that palmar sweating served to increase grip strength and tactile acuity, and drew the analogy of a laborer spitting on his hands before grasping a pickaxe or shovel. A difficulty with this interpretation is that palmar sweating can be a hindrance to the tennis player. Sweating also occurs on the feet, where the question of grip (for homo sapiens) is irrelevant. Darrow further suggested that palmar sweating improved tactile discrimination. This was followed up by Edelberg (1961), who simultaneously recorded skin resistance and monitored the sensory threshold to a vibration of 250 cycles/sec, and found they were indeed correlated. Sweating may increase tactile discrimination, and the lowering of other sensory thresholds increases discrimination. But this is a passive view of the organism’s physiological activity. Sokolov’s (1963) concept of the “orienting response”, which includes commonly cited physiological measures of “arousal” as well as pricking up the ears and visual scanning of the surroundings, represents a more active conception of the role of physiological activity in relation to environment, and one that is close to the concept of stimulation-seeking developed here. However, the concept of the orienting response assumes that active search of the environment is restricted to particular sense organs, such as eyes, nose and ears; it also assumes that this activity is separate from the increase in sensory input which “results” from this activity. A distinctive feature of the concept of stimulation-seeking is the notion that the peripheral receptors are actively “searching” for stimulation. In other words, sympathetic activity is not merely the preparation of the body for action: it is action. My suggestion is that there is no distinction between the processes involved


198

in sympathetic arousal and the “motor responses” to which they are said to be preparatory. The lowering of thresholds in the peripheral receptors does not simply enhance sensitivity or discriminatory powers: it involves increases in the rate and quantity of sensory input. Thus, to lower a sensory threshold is to increase the rate and amount of sensory input. Internal processes of sympathetic arousal and activities of the peripheral receptors are therefore part of the same, overall, response to stimulation of certain brain pathways, resulting from perceived changes in the environment. This concept of stimulation-seeking as an active response that includes the peripheral sensory receptors is directly analogous to Jacques Loeb’s (1917/1973) concept of a behavioral tropism. Loeb contended that organisms are pulled or drawn toward external sources of stimulation or energy such as light, gravitation, and chemical substances. He regarded tropisms as movements of the whole organism toward external stimuli and proposed that instincts were tropisms, that is, forced movements toward sources of energy (see Mawson, 1987: 114–115 for a more extended discussion). The nonspecific aspects of stimulation-seeking help to draw attention to other bodily processes that have been ignored or neglected in the literature on stress and vigilance: namely, increased taste sensitivity,8 erection of bodily hair, smacking and licking of the lips, increased saccadic movements, chewing movements, increases in sniffing, stroking the hair, pulling the ear lobes, scratching, crossing the legs, foot tapping, and finger drumming). These so-called displacement activities and other curious phenomena whose function has remained obscure can all be interpreted as expressions of stimulation-seeking. In summary, I have questioned the distinction between physiological activity and bodily movement (behavior) and suggested that peripheral autonomic activity and stimulation-seeking are not separate phenomena but parallel processes activated by higher brain mechanisms. “Overt behaviors” and peripheral “physiological” indicators of arousal are manifestations of stimulation-seeking. Increased heart rate and blood pressure contribute, as it were, to the capacity of the organism to seek and obtain sensory stimulation from its environment – stimulation that may be derived from “drinking”, “fighting”, “fleeing”, or from any other form of bodily activity that involves contact with the environment. The following question now arises: If stimulation-seeking and stimulationavoidance are fundamental response categories, are there structures or pathways in the brain that elicit them? The next chapter reviews evidence suggesting that distinct neurophysiological mechanisms exist that elicit stimulation-seeking and stimulationavoidance behavior, corresponding broadly to the concepts of sympathetic and parasympathetic nervous systems, respectively.

8

Compare Diethelm’s (1932) point that individuals, when highly aroused, complained that their food had been mixed with gravel.

Chapter 18

Towards A Neurophysiological Theory of Emotional Behavior

Introduction Stimulation-seeking has been defined as any activity that enhances or facilitates contact between an organism’s sensory receptors and external objects or surfaces (Mawson, 1978, 1987, Mawson et al., 1996). This concept includes peripheral receptor activity associated with sympathetic arousal as well as motor-motivational activity (for example, “displacement activities”, “primary drive activity”, and “emotional behaviors” such as flight, aggression and affiliation). The argument has been made that distinct activating conditions and identifying characteristics for each “kind” of motor activity are lacking, and behaviors conventionally labeled as eating or aggression can be more usefully understood as overlapping “bands” on a continuous spectrum of intensity of stimulation-seeking, the actual behavior shown depending in part of the range of objects immediately available. Stimulation-avoidance is defined by the author as any activity that minimizes contact between an organism’s sensory receptors and external surfaces or objects. It includes peripheral receptor activity associated with parasympathetic activation as well as the arrest of motor activity. At high levels of intensity, stimulationavoidance is expressed in stupor, comatose states or sleep, immobility, defecation and urination. In this chapter an extensive body of neuroscience literature is reviewed and found to support the contention that certain brain pathways are responsible for the two major classes of behavior – stimulation-seeking and stimulation-avoidance – as defined here. The literature also supports the existence of the reciprocal inhibitory effects postulated in the hypothesis of inhibition by sensory feedback. This hypothesis states that stimuli perceived at some level of awareness as incongruous with the cognitive map activate central pathways associated with SNS arousal that elicit stimulationseeking. Sensory stimulation derived from such activity in turn activates pathways associated with PNS activity which inhibit SNS activity and elicits an increase in stimulation-avoidance. This does not mean that all physiological activity declines, but that sympathetic activity decreases while parasympathetic activity increases. Thus, we would expect to find a decline in heart rate and blood pressure but at the same time an increase in gastrointestinal motility as well as increased activity in the


200

brain pathways mediating parasympathetic effects. It is contended that in the normal course of events, inhibitory processes in the brain are activated by sensory stimuli derived from the organism’s own activity. A large body of research evidence, when seen in a comparatively new light, supports this thesis. Structure and Function It is widely believed that certain loci in the brain are responsible for specific categories of behaviors such as eating and drinking. However, there is evidence that brain areas involved in motivation and emotion have a more diffuse and less well-defined role. The functions of these areas do not correspond in any simple way to current categories of motivation and emotion, since different behaviors can be elicited by direct electrical stimulation of the same brain area, using the same parameters of stimulation, depending on contingencies in the testing situation (Valenstein et al., 1970). The structures implicated in such behavior are widely distributed and form interconnected pathways. In studying the relationship between neuroanatomical structure and function, I believe that the continued search for brain centers or pathways corresponding to specific motivational categories such as feeding and drinking is misconceived, and that greater emphasis should be placed on interpreting or re-conceptualizing existing experimental findings. Here our approach is to marshal relevant data supporting the view that certain brain structures are involved in tropism-like responses named stimulation-seeking and stimulation-avoidance. To avoid awkward circumlocutions, these structures will be referred to as the S-system and P-system, respectively. For details of the anatomical structures and connections themselves, the reader is referred to, for example, Olds and Olds (1965), Smythies (1967), and Routtenberg (1968).1 It is generally accepted that certain brain areas are mutually inhibitory (for example, Hess, 1954; Gellhorn, 1967; Donovan, 1970), but uncertainty remains as to: (a) the exact structures involved in inhibitory relationships, (b) what is, in fact, being inhibited or disinhibited by the structures in question, and (c) the mechanism

1

In some respects, Routtenberg’s (1968) position is similar to that proposed here. Routtenberg adopts the position of Olds (see below), that stimulation of certain brain areas produces inherently “aversive” or “rewarding” effects. The question of whether the stimulation of any brain area is inherently aversive has been questioned (for example, Valenstein and Valenstein, 1964). Because stimulation of the dorsal midbrain region at certain intensities elicits flight or escape, Routtenberg (with Olds) claims that this is an inherently aversive area, whereas stimulation of the septum and median forebrain bundle is inherently rewarding. This leads to the further assumption that dorsal midbrain and the posterolateral hypothalamic areas must be differentiated. If, on the other hand, escape/flight behavior is not regarded as different from other motivational activities such as sex and feeding, but rather as part of single continuum, then several problems are immediately clarified (see below). In short, my view is that the dorsal midbrain and posterolateral hypothalamus are part of the same SNS (S-system) pathway (see Section III, Part V in this chapter for details).


201

of inhibition. We are not in a position to answer (a), but tentative answers to (b) and (c) have already been suggested. As to (b), it is suggested that what is being inhibited is not sympathetic or parasympathetic activity per se, but more general response patterns involving seeking or avoiding sensory stimulation. In answer to (c), it is postulated that inhibition in brain pathways mediating sympathetic effects (S-system) is usually achieved via external stimulation generated by the organism’s own bodily activity; this, in turn, activates the brain pathways associated with parasympathetic effects (P-system), which inhibit the S-system. Brain Areas and Stimulation-Seeking Those areas of the brain that elicit stimulation-seeking when directly stimulated electrically (the S-system) include the posterior, dorsomedial and lateral hypothalamus, medial amygdala, posterior cingulated gyrus, stria terminalis, central grey matter, mesencephalic tegmentum, mesencephalic reticular system and thalamus. Stimulation-seeking includes sympathetic nervous system arousal and motor-motivational behavior; that is, an increase in “interactional commerce” with the environment. In general, the posterior and lateral hypothalamus and medial amygdala are the best-known loci for producing stimulation-seeking responses. Hess (1954) stimulated the posterior hypothalamus in cats and found that an alerting reaction could be elicited with threshold stimulation, accompanied by pricking up the ears, pupillary dilatation, and looking up and around. With stronger stimulation, piloerection occurred, the claws were unsheathed, the animal hissed and spat and began running movements which ended in “flight” or directed aggression. The “defense reaction” described by Hess is accompanied by many physiological (SNS) changes including: muscle vasodilatation, tachycardia, vasoconstriction in the skin and intestine; an increase in the contractile force and output of the heart (see also Rosén, 1961); venoconstriction in the limbs (Folkow et al., 1961); increased coronary, cerebral and muscle blood flow (Wilkins and Eichna, 1941); and baroceptor inhibition (Abrahams et al., 1964). Vasoconstriction underlies the familiar pallor of the skin in humans (Sturup et al., 1935). Stimulation of the posterior hypothalamus also leads to desynchronized, alpha block EEG activity in the cortex (Murphy and Gellhorn, 1945). Grastyan and associates (1965), using cats, and Glickman and Feldman (1961), using rats, elicited an orienting or alerting response by stimulating loci in the hypothalamus. Electrical stimulation in the area of the cat’s brain where muscle vasodilatation occurs also elicits vasoconstriction of the skin and intestine, tachycardia, pupiliary dilatation and retraction of the nictitating membrane (Eliasson et al., 1951). To complete the picture, Abrahams et al. (1964) have shown that the hypothalamic region from which muscle vasodilatation is elicited is identical with that which elicits the defense reaction if sufficiently intense – an extensive area described as including many areas along the entire length of the hypothalamus. The region most directly connected with the hypothalamus is the amygdala, a group of nuclei subjacent to the hippocampus within the temporal lobe (Hilton,

202


1965). Stimulation of the amygdala of the cat elicits the defense reaction (Gastaut et al., 1957) and vasodilatation (Hilton and Zbrozyna, 1963). The efferent pathway from the pars medialis in the amygdala to the hypothalamus takes a direct route just dorsal to the optic tract. The stria terminalis includes fibers initiating the defense reaction (Fernandez de Molina and Hunsperger, 1959) and is afferent to the amygdala, thus completing a positive feedback circuit (Hilton, 1965: 229). Bonvallet and Bobo (1972) found that the various responses evoked by amygdaloid stimulation could be grouped into two main functional categories: respiratory activation and deactivation. They set out to investigate the respiratory and cardiac effects of stimulating the area of the basal amygdaloid nucleus associated with the defense reaction. Respiratory activation and heart rate acceleration never preceded by a period of deactivation were obtained from: the region of the basal amygdaloid nucleus associated with the longitudinal association bundle; scattered points in the medial central nucleus; a scattered band of tissue just lateral and dorsal to the optic tract, and the ansa lenticularis. Activating points were mainly found in the medial central amygdaloid nucleus. The response included sniffing, increased respiration and “tension”, pupillary dilatation, orienting, and increased heart rate. In general, stimulation of certain parts of the hypothalamus and amygdala elicits a gradual transition from sympathetic arousal to an emotional state akin to fear and anger (Chapman et al., 1954; Heath et al., 1955; Hunsperger, 1956). Stimulation of the thalamus also elicits escape or active avoidance (Delgado et al., 1954). Throughout this work, evidence has been presented that “approach” and “avoidance” (that is, “flight”) behavior, insofar as they involve intense motor activity, are not different kinds of behavior but different expressions of stimulation-seeking. Not surprisingly, therefore, approach and avoidance behavior have been elicited by stimulation at the same locus and the same intensity in medial and posterior hypothalamic regions (for example, Bower and Miller, 1958; Brown and Cohen, 1959; Roberts, 1958a,b). Self-stimulation in parts of the hypothalamus of the rat is associated with increased heart rate (Perez-Cruet et al., 1963) and blood pressure (Perez-Cruet, et al., 1966). Stimulation of lateral and posterior areas of the hypothalamus also elicits a wide range of “motivational” behaviors, including: feeding (Hoebel and Teitelbaum, 1962; Margules and Olds, 1962); gnawing and/or nest-building (Roberts and Carey, 1965); drinking (Mogenson and Stevenson, 1966; Fisher and Coury, 1962); sexual behavior (Caggiula and Hoebel 1960; Herberg, 1963a,b; Vaughan and Fisher, 1963; MacLean and Ploog, 1962), and many others, depending on contingencies available in the testing situation (Valenstein et al., 1970). Noxious or incongruous stimuli generally produce sympathetic activation, and evidence has been presented that stimulation of certain regions of the brain produces these same effects. What remains to be demonstrated is that incongruous stimuli activate these same regions of the brain. There is evidence that incongruous stimuli activate particular lateral and posterior hypothalamic areas. For example, sensory stimuli (acoustic < proprioceptive < nocioceptive) produce diffuse excitation in the


203

cerebral cortex, movements and sympathetic discharges (Bernhaut et al., 1953). Gellhorn has pointed out that the parallelism between hypothalamic and diffuse cortical excitation suggests that sensory stimuli induce a hypothalamic-cortical discharge. The finding that nocioceptive stimuli fail to evoke diffuse cortical excitation in rats with bilateral lesions in the posterior hypothalamus (Koella and Gellhorn, 1954) supports this interpretation (Gellhorn, 1964: 461). Electrical potentials can also be evoked in part of the midbrain region in response to noxious stimuli (French et al., 1953). Brain Areas and Stimulation-Avoidance The areas of the brain that elicit stimulation-avoidance-type reactions when directly stimulated include parts of the anterior and ventromedial hypothalamus, the septum, anterior cingulate gyrus, hippocampus, subcallosal and precallosal regions. As noted, stimulation-avoidance refers to any activity that minimizes or reduces contact between an organism’s sensory receptors and external objects or surfaces, and thus includes peripheral parasympathetic activity as well as a general decrease or absence of motor-motivational behavior. Ward (1948) found that electrical stimulation of the anterior cingulate gyrus decreased the level of motor activity in cats (the cats stopped walking about), and at higher intensities of stimulation crouching occurred. Kaada (1951) stimulated the septal subcallosal area and elicited a variety of parasympathetic effects, for example, bradycardia, decreased respiration and blood pressure, reduced corticallyinduced movements, and pupillary constriction. Covian et al. (1964) found that septal stimulation produced a decline in heart rate and blood pressure for about three minutes after the stimulation was terminated (see also Manning et al., 1963). Stimulation of the anterior hypothalamus (Ban et al., 1951; Ranson and Magoun, 1939; Olds, 1955) and septal area (Hess, 1936, cited in Olds, 1955) leads to sleep and to parasympathetic-like effects in unanaesthetized cats. Using rats, Olds (1955) elicited striking inhibitory effects with septal stimulation. Stimulation delivered while the rat was running led to an immediate and startling arrest of behavior. Stimulation of the anterior hypothalamus also leads to a rapid increase in gastrointestinal tone and activity (Beattie and Sheehan, 1934: Pearl et al., 1966). It has been claimed that the posterior hypothalamus is directly involved in gastrointestinal activation (Porter et al., 1953) but this occurs after a delay of several hours. Stimulation of the anterior hypothalamus produces immediate secretion, suggesting that gastrointestinal activity in response to posterior hypothalamic stimulation is a “rebound” phenomenon. Hess (1944) argued that sleep is an active process associated with increased parasympathetic discharges similar to those initiated by the anterior hypothalamus; in fact, gastric and duodenal secretion peak during the night (Bloom et al., 1970). Bradycardia also occurs during septal stimulation (Malmo, 1961; Perez-Cruet et al., 1963).

204


The hippocampus is closely connected, anatomically, with the septal area, and also yields parasympathetic effects when directly stimulated. The medial septal region projects on the hippocampal region and there are projections from Ammon’s Horn (hippocampus) back to the lateral septum (Votaw and Lauer, 1963). Macadar et al. (1970) found that rhythmic hippocampal activity and theta waves (also known as rhythmic slow activity – RSA – usually 4–7 Hz) depend upon the activity of neurons in the medial septal nucleus; and synchronous activity in septal units is independent of its origin in the hippocampus. That the septal nucleus acts as a pacemaker for the hippocampal theta rhythm was inferred from the observation that synchronous hippocampal activity was only seen in the presence of rhythmicity in the septum. Septo-hippocampal rhythmic activity is under cholinergic (PNS) control (Stumpf, 1965a), as shown by the finding (Macadar et al., 1970) that physostigmine facilitates synchronized bursts at the septal level together with hippocampal theta rhythms, and both are subsequently inhibited by scopolamine (see Carlton, 1969). Harper (1971) studied frequency changes in hippocampal electrical activity during movement and tonic immobility, using unanaesthetized rabbits. Catalepsy was induced by grasping the bridge of the nose in the right hand and the underbelly in the left hand and rapidly inverting the animal backwards into a harness-like apparatus (Klemm, 1966). The animals were held for 10 seconds and then carefully released. Most animals emerged spontaneously from the trance within a few minutes; if not, they were aroused with a loud noise after 30 minutes. The principal finding was that RSA was slower during non-movement than periods of movement; it increased during phasic periods of active (REM) sleep and was identical in tonic immobility periods to non-movement periods. The ventromedial hypothalamus (VMH) also has a general behavioral inhibitory function, which appears to be under cholinergic control (Margules and Stein, 1967). Regarding the amygdala, Bonvallet and Bobo (1972) found that stimulation of the lateral central amgdaloid nucleus elicits heart rate deceleration and respiratory deactivation. The topography of points from which only respiratory deactivation and pure bradycardia were obtained represented a nearly perfect “negative image” of that of respiratory activation and cardiac acceleration. They noted that increases in heart rate elicited from stimulation of the amygdala is mainly due to an increase in SNS tone, whereas bradycardia results from a decrease in sympathetic tone and an increase in vagal cardiac control. Within the amygdala, diphasic respiratory and cardiac effects could only be obtained by stimulating the macrocellular portion of the basal nucleus, which confirmed the authors’ finding of differentiation between the two divisions of the nucleus by histological and histochemical methods. Evidence of Reciprocal Inhibition There is evidence that the septum-hippocampus and posterior-lateral hypothalamus are responsible for parasympathetic- and sympathetic-like effects, respectively, and are mutually inhibitory in their effects. Thus:


205

(A) stimulation of the posterior and lateral hypothalamus inhibits septal and hippocampal activity; (B) lesion or ablation of hypothalamic areas disinhibits and exaggerates septal effects; (C) stimulation of the septum inhibits hypothalamic activity; and, (D) septal lesions disinhibit and exaggerate hypothalamic effects. It has been proposed that a balance between P- and S-system activation is accomplished through sensory feedback derived from activity initiated by the organism itself. It follows that if an organism is able to stimulate itself in the appropriate brain area(s) directly, without having an opportunity to gain external feedback, then selfstimulation should cease. Consider now the evidence on these points. A. Inhibitory Effects of Hypothalamic (S-system) Stimulation It is hypothesized that stimulation of S-system areas inhibits activity in P-system areas. Consistent with this suggestion, stimulation of ventromedial hypothalamic nuclei (VMH) fails to suppress single unit discharges in lateral hypothalamus (LH) or vice versa, but when the rate of discharge of VMH cells is high, that in the lateral hypothalamus is low. Stimulation of one VMH nucleus also facilitates electrical activity in its partner, while stimulation of the LH on one side inhibits activity in the opposite VMH nucleus (Oomura et al., 1967, cited in Donovan, 1970). Electroencephalographic (EEG) activity of the LH (in cats) changed from high amplitude slow waves to low amplitude fast waves on exposure to the odor of food, while the EEG of the VMH nuclei tended to switch from low amplitude fast waves to high amplitude slow waves. This finding provides strong evidence of a reciprocal relationship between the two areas Stimulation of the LH also elicited mouth movements, chewing, and eating (“stimulation-seeking”), which ceased when the current was switched off. If the VMH nucleus was stimulated while the cats were eating, they stopped chewing and food fell from their mouths (“stimulationavoidance”). Interestingly, the temperature threshold of the anterior hypothalamus (“Psystem”) to produce vasodilatation is increased during nocioceptive stimuli, the latter of which elicit posterior hypothalamic activation (von Euler and Soderberg, 1958; see also Gellhorn and Loufbourrow, 1963). B. Effects of Hypothalamic (S-System Lesions) Much evidence supports our hypothesis that lesions in the postero-lateral hypothalamus and other S-system areas disinhibit septo-hippocampal activity and produce exaggerated P-system effects. Thus, lesions of the posterior hypothalamus produce somnolence (Ranson, 1934), suggesting dominance of the anterior hypothalamus (PNS) (Gellhorn, 1964). Lesions in posterior hypothalamus and anterior midbrain – areas identical to those producing “flight” when stimulated –

206


produce somnolence in monkeys, somnolence and catalepsy in cats, and somnolence alone in rats (Ranson, 1939; Ingram et al., 1936; Nauta, 1946). Large midbrain lesions (extending from the dorsal area of the superior colliculus to the ventral areas of the midbrain, including the interpeduncular nucleus and surrounding regions) render cats comatose (Lindsley et al., 1950). Lesions in the midbrain reticular formation alone, however, do not necessarily render animals comatose (for example, Chow and Randall, 1964), suggesting that the reticular formation is not crucially involved in S- and P-system balance. Lesions in the posterior hypothalamus, while producing a sleeping or comatose animal, do not eliminate low-voltage, fast EEG patterns (Feldman and Waller, 1962). Amygdaloid lesions also produce docility (Schreiner and Kling, 1956) and impair “aggressive” behavior (Karli, 1956). Bilateral amygdalectomy does not affect patterns evoked by hypothalamic stimulation; but growling and hissing evoked by amygdaloid stimulation are abolished by ipsilateral coagulation of either the hypothalamus or midbrain areas associated with “fight or flight”, suggesting that the hypothalamus is more fundamental than the amygdala in mediating stimulationseeking (Hunsperger and Fernandez de Molina, 1962). Lateral hypothalamic lesions not only produce adipsia (Teitelbaum and Epstein, 1962) but give rise to a syndrome of behavioral deficits (Teitelbaum, 1969; Epstein, 1971), including aphagia, adipsia, inactivity and self-neglect (referred to here as “stimulation-avoidance”). Specific stages occur in the process of recovery from these lesions, suggesting a gradual restoration of “stimulation-seeking”: Stage 1 – aphagia and adipia (cessation of eating and drinking); Stage 2 – anorexia and adipsia (intake of wet palatable food); Stage 3 – dehydration aphagia and adipsia (intake of dry food if hydrated or the animal is given sweet liquids to drink); Stage 4 – recovery (the animal regulates its own body weight on dry food and water). Lesions in the median forebrain bundle (which includes the lateral hypothalamic area) produce deficits in escape behavior (Olds and Olds, 1965). This shows that the LH is vital not only for eating and drinking (“motivational behavior”), but also for flight and aggression. This supports our contention that these activities are not biologically distinct but part of a general category of stimulation-seeking behavior. Escape behavior can also be increased by continuous hypothalamic stimulation (Routtenberg and Olds, 1963). In fact, escape from both central and peripheral “aversive” stimulation is facilitated by concurrent hypothalamic stimulation (Routtenberg, 1968: 62), suggesting that stimulation of the posterolateral hypothalamus augments SNS activity and stimulation-seeking in response to peripheral nociception (“incongruity”). C. Effects of Septal Stimulation on Hypothalamic Activity Stimulation of the septum, hippocampus, ventromedial and anterior hypothalamus (collectively referred to as the P-system) elicits parasympathetic-like effects and reduces the effects created by posterolateral hypothalamic stimulation.


207

During anterior hypothalamic dominance (PNS), reactivity of the posterior hypothalamus is lessened, and vice versa. These changes in reactivity alter both autonomic and hypothalamic-cortical discharges (Gellhorn, 1957). If an animal is subjected to cold stress (producing sympathetic discharges) and the anterior hypothalamus is directly heated at the same time, decreases occur in both shivering and sympathetic discharges (Hemingway et al., 1940). Similarly, electrical stimulation of the hippocampus reduces the level of adrenocorticotrophic hormone (ACTH) in spite of the simultaneous application of noxious stimuli (Endroczi et al., 1959). Recalling the hypothesis of inhibition by sensory feedback, moderate to intense incongruity activates posterolateral hypothalamic areas, leading to proportional increases in the intensity of stimulation-seeking (that is, SNS effects and “motormotivational” behavior). This activity provides sensory stimulation which in turn activates septo-hippocampal (PNS) pathways and inhibits posterolateral hypothalamic activity (cf. Isaacson, 1971). The suggestion is that SNS/PNS equilibrium is normally accomplished by self-initiated activity.2 Stimulation-seeking activity is not merely a quantitative matter of obtaining “more” stimulation: individuals also seek out particular persons, objects or places represented in their cognitive map, for example, a child runs to its mother, a rabbit to its burrow. If this hypothesis is correct, it follows that if animals can either stimulate themselves or be directly stimulated in the septo-hippocampal area while simultaneously experiencing incongruity, the septo-hipppocampal stimulation should counteract the hypothalamic activation and thereby dampen or inhibit the stimulation-seeking activity that would normally be elicited. Thus, septo-hippocampal stimulation inhibits hypothalamic activity (and stimulation-seeking) produced by incongruous input. In addition to the work of Hemingway et al. (1940) and Endroczi et al. (1959) that supports this conjecture, other pertinent evidence comes from experiments on conditioned emotional responses (CERs). In the CER model, an animal is trained to press a bar for a reward which is delivered periodically. Once a stable level of performance is established, a conditioned stimulus (CS) such as a clicking noise is presented, which terminates when a brief but strong electric shock is applied to the animal’s feet via the metal grid of the cage. The procedure rapidly produces a CER to the onset of the CS: bar-pressing stops and the animal shows signs of intense distress (Grossman, 1967: 580–582). Brady (1957) used this procedure on two groups of rats, one trained to bar-press for direct septal stimulation, the other for water or brain stimulation. When stable response rates were established, a clicking noise was presented for three minutes during the bar-pressing tests, which terminated in a painful electric shock. At the eighth presentation of the CS–UCS (unconditioned stimulus) combination, animals that had bar-pressed for water showed perfect acquisition of the CER; that is, the bar-pressing stopped as soon as the clicking sounds began. None of the animals that had bar-pressed for septal stimulation showed any sign of 2 Several negative-feedback mechanisms are known to exist in mammalian species (Donovan, 1970). However, theories of biological control tend to treat organisms as closed systems and most negative-feedback mechanisms involve internal processes.

208


conditioning: their response rate was unaffected by the shock, and signs of distress were not observed. Issues have been raised regarding the interpretation of these findings (Grossman, 1967: 581–582), including the exact placement of the electrodes, for example, the septum is not a functionally homogeneous area (Routtenberg, 1965), and the intensity of brain stimulation, for example, Brady (1958b) found that a 30µA level was sufficient but 20µA was insufficient to prevent the formation of a CER. The weight of evidence, however, supports the hypothesis. For instance, when different effects of stimulation were applied to the septum and posterior hypothalamus, only septal stimulation reduced “escape” behavior elicited by stimulation of the dorsal midbrain, one of the hypothalamic areas responsible for SNS activation (Routtenberg and Olds, 1963). Stimulation of the lateral septum likewise reduced avoidance of a water spout which delivered short shocks to a rat’s mouth (Kaspar, 1964). Miller et al. (1970, cited in Hoebel, 1971) proposed a similar hypothesis. Based on the finding that olfactory or septal stimulation increases some hypothalamic units and decreases others, whereas sciatic nerve stimulation only excites hypothalamic neurons, they suggested that septal influence over integrative neurons in the LH depends on the baseline state of these neurons, as determined by peripheral input. This is close to our hypothesis that the septum inhibits the LH (SNS) when the latter is activated by incongruous external input. The present hypothesis goes further, however, in suggesting that motor-motivational activity resulting from LH stimulation provides external-peripheral input which activates the septum which in turn inhibits the LH. However, direct evidence is needed to establish that sensory feedback derived from stimulation-seeking is mediated by septo-hippocampal areas rather than by other subcortical areas. It is well known that intracranial stimulation delivered to certain areas of the brain elicits “drive” behavior, whereas stimulation in other areas can substitute for ordinary rewards like food, water and sex (Grossman, 1967: 572–580). Here it is suggested that sensory stimulation derived from “aggression”, “flight”, “eating”, “gnawing”, and so on, is functionally equivalent to intracranial stimulation delivered to the septal region; moreover, these forms of activity are “driven” by stimulation of hypothalamic areas. Thus, an animal provided with the opportunity for direct septal stimulation in the presence of (incongruous) stimuli eliciting SNS activation will bar-press for septal stimulation instead of seeking stimulation via intense motor activity. Direct septal stimulation thus can be said to “short-circuit” the inhibitory effects normally accomplished by active stimulation-seeking. In accordance with the last point, when rats are put into a situation that requires them to make a choice (an SNS arousing situation?), they prefer septal stimulation to hypothalamic stimulation (Glickman and Schiff, 1967: 99). The fact that local seizures are induced by repetitive stimulation of the septal region (Newman and Feldman, 1964) is also of interest in view of other evidence relating to epileptic seizures described in the previous chapter. Since epileptiform seizures are accompanied by marked bradycardia and other parasympathetic effects, and septal stimulation produces parasympathetic effects, certain forms of epilepsy may result


209

from prolonged septo-hippocampal discharges. Indeed, electroconvulsive shockinduced seizure activity may originate in the hippocampus and then spread to other neocortical areas (Saul and Feld, 1961, cited in Grossman, 1967: 805) D. Effects of Septal Lesions If septal stimulation inhibits hypothalamic (SNS) activity, then ablation or lesions in the septal area should augment or disinhibit the effects of hypothalamic stimulation. In support of this hypothesis, lesions of the posterior hypothalamus produce somnolence (for example, Ranson, 1934) whereas lesions of the anterior hypothalamus produce sleeplessness and exhaustion (Nauta, 1946), suggesting disinhibition of the posterior hypothalamus (Gellhorn, 1964). Septal lesions are also associated with increased adrenocorticotrophic hormone (ACTH) output (Usher et al., 1965), hyperdipsia (Teitelbaum and Epstein, 1962; Harvey and Hunt, 1965), attack behavior/rage, and increased emotional reactivity (Brady and Nauta, 1953; Ahmad and Harvey, 1958). The septum and hippocampus are closely linked anatomically, and hippocampal lesions have similar effects to septal lesions. Animals with hippocampal lesions fail to habituate in an activity situation (Roberts et al., 1962) and fail to suppress general motor responding (Teitelbaum and Milner, 1963). A large (up to 300%) increase in ACTH secretion also occurs following hippocampal lesions (Fendler et al., 1961). A monkey with bilateral hippocampal lesions became markedly and chronically ferocious (Orbach et al., 1960), suggesting that destruction of the hippocampus removes an inhibitory feedback loop (Isaacson, 1971). Lesions of the ventral hippocampus lower the current levels required to maintain rates of hypothalamic self-stimulation (Jackson, 1968), as do systemic injections of anticholinergics (Carlton, 1963). Ablation or lesions in the ventromedial hypothalamus (VMH) – formerly known as the so-called “satiety center” – leads to overeating, whereas lesions of the lateral hypothalamus (LH), the so-called “feeding center”, results in a permanent cessation of eating (Anand, 1961). Local injection of procaine inactivates the VMH area which augments both the “rewarding” effects of the lateral hypothalamus and eating behavior caused by LH stimulation (Hoebel and Teltelbaum, 1962). Small lesions in the ventrolateral or ventromedial hypothalamus result in pronounced and often permanent increases in emotional reactivity, for example, vicious rage responses, expressed in well-directed attack, can be elicited by previously neutral stimuli (Kessler, 1941; Wheatley, 1944). Animals with small bilateral lesions in the dorsal portion of the VMH eat more food than unoperated controls but work less for food rewards, particularly when reward contingencies are poor. The lesioned animals also work less for water rewards but perform a simple avoidance response better than controls (Grossman, 1966; Mayer and Thomas, 1967). Grossman (1966, in Pribram, 1969: 257) suggests that the effects of VMH lesions, “… can hardly be explained on the basis of specific satiety mechanisms, but suggest, instead, that lesions in the ventro-medial areas of the hypothalamus may produce an exaggerated affective reaction to all

210


sensory inputs.” Gross observations of the lesioned animals showed increased reactivity, with excessive startle reactions to all intense, sudden or unusual stimuli and typically strong objection to normal handling. In fact, VMH-lesioned animals show an exaggerated sensitivity to taste which interferes with drinking when very small amounts of quinine are added to the water (Krasne, cited in Grossman, 1966). Lesioned animals eat more only if the food is palatable, but work less for food reward as such. VMH-lesioned animals, according to Grossman, exhibit a change in affect rather than appetite. Clinical observations similarly show that patients with bulimia overeat and become obese because of an enhanced enjoyment of the taste of food (Stunkard, 1968; Schachter, 1968). Grossman’s findings accord with our earlier suggestion that increased SNS activity (induced either by external incongruity or VMH/septal lesions) increases peripheral receptor sensitivity (including taste), and what is sought is not food as such but increased sensory stimulation derived from taste, gnawing and chewing. His observations on the animals’ response to incongruous stimuli, including handling, supports our contention that incongruity (that is, sensitivity) thresholds are lowered when SNS activation is increased. Grossman’s observations on VMH-lesioned animals also support our view of the nonspecific nature of stimulation seeking.3 Evidence of the Avoidance of Positive Feedback Based on the hypothesis of S- and P-system balance, animals would be expected to avoid positive feedback, that is, stimulation (either intracranial or external) that augments stimulation-seeking when the level of S-system activation is already high. Since the lesion of an S-system pathway disinhibits P-system activity and vice versa, animals would be expected to avoid stimulation that augmented the effects of the disinhibited system. Grossman (1967: 569) and Glickman and Schiff (1967: 93) discuss some experiments relevant to this issue. For instance, severe deficits occur in septal selfstimulation following lesions in the ventral mesencephalic reticular system (Glickman and Schiff 1967). In this case we would argue that since the mesencephalic reticular system is an S-system pathway, and a lesion in the area would augment P-system (septal) activation, animals would tend to avoid further septal stimulation. Consider a more complex set of observations on rats. Olds and Olds (1965) found that when a 22 percent solution of potassium chloride (KCl) was introduced bilaterally into the cortex, “unskilled” escape behavior increased (that is, the animals failed to press a bar to turn off the stimulation) and self-stimulation rates markedly declined. Stimulation at the midbrain periventricular system (PVS) was avoided more than among control animals (stimulation of the PVS elicits “escape” behavior4), but stimulation from supposedly “rewarding” areas in the median forebrain bundle 3 Grossman proposed the hypothesis that “hunger” and “thirst” mechanisms are under adrenergic and cholinergic control, respectively (Grossman, 1968, 1970; Donovan, 1970). 4 PVS stimulation also elicits jumping, biting and vocalization (Stein, 1969).


211

(MFB, that is, lateral hypothalamus) – areas associated with self-stimulation – was also avoided. It is important to note that the Olds assume the existence of inherently aversive and rewarding areas (“pleasure centers”) of the brain, and they equate aversion with jumping or agitated “escape” behavior, for example, in response to midbrain (PVS) stimulation, and pleasure or reward with continued self-stimulation in the LH/ MFB. In earlier work, Olds and Olds (1962) found that when rats were stimulated continuously at tegmental “escape” points, self-stimulation at hypothalamic “reward” points virtually ceased. Conversely, when rats were stimulated continuously at hypothalamic reward points, “escape behavior” elicited by tegmental stimulation was greatly enhanced. The authors proposed that excessive activity at the midbrain “escape point” caused by the KCl application inhibits activity in the forebrain reward area (that is, PVS inhibits MFB) whereas MFB stimulation augments behavior elicited by midbrain stimulation (that is, MFB activates PVS). Such a relationship, they suggest, implies that stimulation of the MFB is equivalent to stimulation at escape points (Olds and Olds, 1965: 357–358). Thus the MFB would not simply be a site of appetitive behavior but of all operant (that is, skilled) behavior; moreover, aversive reactions (that is, “escape”) may be “appetitive mechanisms in disguise” (p. 358). Thus, when the PVS is stimulated, further stimulation of the MFB enhances PVS “aversive” behavior. A major theme developed in the Olds’ paper is that a mutually inhibitory relationship exists between the two areas known as “positive reinforcement” areas – the septum and MFB (that is, area from which prolonged bar-pressing for selfstimulation can be elicited). Their own and other evidence suggested that septal stimulation inhibits “aversive” PVS or midbrain activity. This in turn, according to the Olds, disinhibits or releases MFB activity. By inhibiting the PVS, the septum would cause a release of activity in the MFB, and “this event would account for reinforcement of the ongoing event” (p. 374). The authors argue that escape behavior elicited by stimulation of the PVS diminishes PVS activity and further releases MFB activity, which in turn stimulates the PVS even more, leading to greater escape behavior. Subsequently, they outline a general theory based on the notion of a circuit of neurons, one of which is spontaneously active while the others constitute a system of collaterals which mediate the inhibitory effects of both positive and negative reinforcement mechanisms on one another (pp. 370–374). There is no doubt that the Olds are correct that MFB stimulation enhances “escape” behavior elicited by simultaneous midbrain stimulation (see also Stein, 1965). According to our view, this would be an example of positive feedback. On the other hand, their complex theory is based on the questionable assumption that PVS/midbrain stimulation inhibits the lateral hypothalamus (LH/MFB); this seems to derive from their postulate that brain areas from which “escape” behavior is elicited by direct stimulation differ from those from which stimulation is sought by laboratory animals (the old antithesis of “approach” and “avoidance”). A simpler explanation can be proposed if it is assumed that both the PVS (midbrain) and MFB are part of the same S-system pathway, and “escape” behavior reflects

212


intense S-system activation. On this view, midbrain stimulation would also activate the LH. Thus, an animal already stimulated at one point in the S-system pathway (PVS) would be expected to avoid further stimulation (positive feedback) at another point on the S-system pathway (LH). Likewise, since continuous LH stimulation would elicit a high level of S-system activity, additional S-system stimulation at the PVS would be expected to augment the level of S-system activation and thus be avoided. Accordingly, there is no need to postulate two different functional systems at the PVS and MFB, respectively. This explanation is more parsimonious and avoids the assumption of inherently “aversive” and “rewarding” sites. To expand on this argument briefly, it is proposed that septal stimulation does not first inhibit the PVS, which then disinhibits LH activation. Rather, since the PVS and MFB are assumed to be part of the same S-system pathway (that is, leading to stimulation-seeking), activation of areas in the septum (P-system) would inhibit both PVS and MFB/LH activity. This alternative hypothesis is consistent with experimental work discussed in the previous section – that septal activity inhibits rather than facilitates hypothalamic activity. The hypothesis is also consistent with the finding discussed earlier (Olds and Olds, 1965: 391–393), that LH lesions diminish escape behavior; in fact, as noted previously, hypothalamic lesions produce comatose states or somnolence, and the results of the lesions are not specific to escape behavior but diminish motor and SNS activity in general. There is also the problem of the definition of “reward” and “aversion”. First, rewarding brain stimulation (that is, self-stimulation) is not “a single entity varying only in intensity” (Routtenberg, 1968: 59), since LH stimulation augments “escape” behavior whereas “rewarding” septal stimulation inhibits it. LH stimulation also produces a sympathetic response, for example, tachycardia, raised blood pressure, whereas septal stimulation produces parasympathetic activation, for example, bradycardia. Second, cats do not avoid intracranical stimulation giving rise to “escape” behavior; in fact, they learn a response to obtain such stimulation (Roberts, 1958a,b). Moreover, learning a response which terminates brain stimulation will not do as a criterion of aversiveness, since rats will repetitively turn stimulation on and off that is delivered to sites from which self-stimulation (that is, “reward”) is elicited (Valenstein and Valenstein, 1964). Even when animals are allowed to establish their own preferred stimulus parameters in terms of intensity and duration, rats will not hesitate to turn on electrical stimulation which has been fixed many times longer and at greater intensities than the preferred durations and intensities (Keesey, 1964; Hodos, 1965). In sum, the categories of reward and aversion are too ambiguous to provide the basis for theories of brain functioning in relation to environment and behavior. What about the effect of midbrain lesions on LH activity? If our earlier point was correct – that stimulation of the PVS does not inhibit the MFB but is part of the same SNS pathway – then lesions in the midbrain should inhibit generalized stimulation-seeking and augment parasympathetic effects. The lesioned animals would also be expected to avoid positive feedback produced by septal, hippocampal or VMH stimulation.


213

The first part of this hypothesis involves additional issues. One is the capability of S-system lesioned animals to work for S-system stimulation. If the lesion were severe, the animal’s level of SNS arousal would presumably be so diminished that it would be unable to press the bar. A second issue is anatomical. How lesions in the midbrain affect self-stimulation in the LH depend on where the lesion is placed, since the midbrain is functionally heterogeneous. The dorsomedial region would be considered an S-system pathway, since stimulation results in stimulation-seeking behaviors (for example, Hunsperger, 1956). More ventral regions appear to contain P-system pathways, since ventrally-placed lesions enhance (that is, disinhibit) stimulation-seeking effects such as hyperphagia, stalking and attack (Randall, 1964), and enhanced locomotor exploration (Glickman et al., 1964). Consistent with the view that an S-system pathway courses through dorsal midbrain regions, impaired food motivation, impaired saccharine preference and raised quinine version thresholds (that is, P-system effects) occur following ventromedial and ventrolateral tegmental lesions. Note that the tegmentum is in the dorsal midbrain and tegmental stimulation elicits defensive reactions when stimulated (Hess, 1954; Hilton, 1965). It has been suggested that traditional categories of motivation are usefully reinterpreted as stimulation-seeking behaviors on a continuum of intensity. At high levels of S-system arousal, it is postulated that the activities of eating and drinking provide insufficient sensory stimulation for the animal and more intense responses such as “fight or flight” occur instead. In fact, large dorsomedial midbrain lesions (that is, extending to the VMH) have been shown to elicit stalking and attack, and not feeding, in cats (Randall, 1964). If this line of argument is correct, the problem of understanding the functions of the midbrain is not one of attempting to map “feeding” or “attack” areas, but of discovering the areas and pathways where stimulation-seeking and stimulationavoidance are elicited at varying intensities. The distinction between dorsal and ventral areas is useful provisionally, but in describing “midbrain lesions” the precise location of the midbrain must be specified. Having discussed the issue of how to interpret the effects of “midbrain lesions”, we turn now to some experimental findings reported by the Olds’ (1965) towards the end of their paper. These were lesion experiments, designed to substantiate their earlier claim that the periventricular system (PVS) inhibits the median forebrain bundle (MFB), whereas the MFB enhances the effects of stimulation at the PVS. In the section of their article on “interactions” (pp. 379 ff.), the Olds’ make a number of points relevant to our discussion at this juncture. They suggest that the PVS inhibits the hypothalamus, whereas the hypothalamus augments the effects of the PVS. They hypothesize that escape behavior driven by the PVS inhibits the PVS, which augments LH activity and in turn enhances PVS stimulation, leading to greater escape behavior, which terminates PVS activation. They suggest that the PVS originates in the VMH, an area known to inhibit the LH (Hoebel and Teitelbaumn, 1962), with parasympathetic effects when stimulated. They reasoned that stimulation of the VMH would have effects similar to those resulting from stimulation of the PVS. Similarly, since inactivation of the VMH by local procaine injection augmented both

214


rewarding effects of LH stimulation and eating behavior caused by LH stimulation, they argued that PVS lesions would have the same augmenting effects. In the meantime, they were able to demonstrate experimentally that the positive reinforcement (reward) system had a posterior focus; that is “the posterior part of the lateral hypothalamus was essential in some way to the positive reinforcement produced by stimulating the anterior part, but the anterior part was not similarly essential” (p. 391). This suggested that either “information had to exit in the direction of the midbrain in order for the positive reinforcement phenomenon to appear, or that the posterior part of the lateral hypothalamus was a final common pathway for positive reinforcement” (p. 391). This important finding led to the further hypothesis that the LH was a final common pathway not just for positive reinforcement but for negative reinforcement as well. In other words, LH lesions would curtail both self-stimulation and escape behavior. This is, of course, perfectly compatible with our view that the LH is an important locus mediating all forms of stimulation-seeking behavior. Finally, they reported the results of preliminary experiments designed to test these hypotheses: the effects of periventricular (escape) lesions on positive reinforcement, and the effects of MFB (positive reinforcement) lesions on self-stimulation negative reinforcement (pp. 392-3). They predicted that PVS lesions would enhance LH self-stimulation, whereas LH lesions would attenuate the “aversive” effects of PVS stimulation. The results were in the predicted direction: “There was no single case where periventricular (escape) lesions produced an appreciable deficit in ESB positive reinforcement behavior. In 2 out of 6 cases, there was a very great augmentation. On the other hand, there was no case where medial forebrain bundle (positive) lesions produced appreciable augmentation of ESB negative reinforcement behavior. In 5 out of these 8 cases, there was a major deficit in negative reinforcement behavior; in 3 of these cases, ESB escape disappeared altogether” (p. 393). Histological verification of these lesions had not been carried out when the paper was written, and the number of cases was small. However, let us first consider the effects of LH lesions, which appear more clear-cut. The results suggest that the MFB is crucial to the integrity of SNS activity at midbrain points, but behavioral and/or physiological data were not reported. We would expect a general decline in motor activity, with other evidence of parasympathetic dominance. The effects of PVS lesions are more difficult to interpret. Two out of the six cases showed the expected augmentation of self-stimulation, but four did not. The Olds do not consider the possibility of the midbrain containing more than one pathway (SNS and PNS), and they assume that the PVS is closely related and functionally equivalent to the VMH. This is unlikely, however, because VMH stimulation elicits parasympatheticlike effects, for example, anorexia, adipsia, decline in general activity, and so on (that is, stimulation-avoidance), whereas PVS stimulation elicits sympathetic-like effects, for example, fighting, alerting, flight, increased activity, and so on (that is, stimulation-seeking). Conversely, VMH lesions augmented sympathetic activity


215

whereas PVS lesions (in four out of six cases) had little of no effect. In short, the functional equation of PVS and VMH is not justified. If an S-system pathway runs from LH to the periventricular nuclei in the midbrain, we would expect LH lesions to attenuate the effects of PVS stimulation (and also, presumably, in posterior hypothalamic areas). Equally, we would expect lesions in the periventricular nuclei to have no effect at the lateral hypothalamus, or at other points anterior to the lesions. What emerges from this discussion? First, a hypothesis derived from the present theory would be that PVS lesions would have no effect on LH self-stimulation; in other words, the LH (a key part of the S-system/SNS pathway) would be left intact after PVS lesion. The results of the Olds’ experiment appear to favor this hypothesis rather than their own, according to which PVS lesions augment LH activity. On the other hand, augmentation did occur in a third of their cases and it is difficult to account for this on our own hypothesis. Possibly in these cases a parasympathetic pathway was lesioned, but this would be contrary to the previous suggestion that SNS pathways are found mainly in dorsal areas, whereas PNS pathways are more ventral. The chapter concludes with potential applications of the theory. Passive Avoidance Deficit Evidence was cited earlier that lesions in parts of septum, hippocampus, anterior and ventromedial hypothalamus result in S-system dominance. Such lesions appear to augment the effects of posterolateral hypothalamic stimulation and this creates increased stimulation-seeking behavior. There is a curious phenomenon associated with septal lesions that has eluded satisfactory explanation. This is the often-reported finding that lesioned animals fail to perform a pre-operatively acquired conditioned emotional response (CER). They seem incapable of withholding a response which is “punished” by electric shock: they show, in other words, a deficit in “passive avoidance” learning (Blanchard and Fial, 1968). On the other hand, the lesioned animals seem to perform better than controls in “active avoidance” situations, particularly when escaping from the shock requires a vigorous motor response (Grossman, 1967: 538–546, 587–589, 749–750). The explanation proposed here for this phenomenon – which is reportedly a correlate of psychopathic personality (Hare, 1970: 78–94) – is as follows. Increased posterolateral hypothalamic activity, created either by incongruous stimuli or by septo-hippocampal lesions, elicits stimulation-seeking behavior. The organism actively seeks sensory stimulation from the environment to (as it were) stimulate the septum and other P-system areas, and thereby inhibit the S-system. There are three important correlates of stimulation-seeking and S-system dominance in addition to those already discussed. They are (1) a decreased rate of habituation; (2) lowered sensitivity thresholds and, paradoxically, (3) increased “pain” thresholds. Conversely, with parasympathetic (P-system) dominance, we would expect (1) an

216


increased rate of habituation; (2) increased sensitivity thresholds, and (3) lowered pain thresholds. As mentioned in Chapter 8, people in intense pain often become highly agitated, jump up and down, slap or bite themselves, attack others, writhe on the floor, or in other ways inflict what appears to be greater pain on themselves. Up to a certain level, however, self-stimulation even to the point of inflicting injury is not experienced as painful; on the contrary, it seems to dull the pain and provides a sense of relief. The mechanism of pain relief is unknown, but may be analogous to the phenomenon of lateral inhibition, which has both peripheral and central components. Individuals thus seek intense stimulation when already in pain, that is, in a state of S-system dominance, but the effect of such stimulation is to inhibit the painful sensation. The greater the level of S-system arousal (created artificially by septal lesions or by noxious input), the greater the level of stimulation-seeking becomes; in other words, the greater the intensity of stimulation needed to achieve the central inhibitory effect on the S-system. The seemingly paradoxical association of reduced sensitivity (incongruity) thresholds and increased pain thresholds perhaps serves an important function in that lowered sensitivity thresholds (associated with increased skin conductance, piloerection, pupillary dilatation, and so on) allow for an increased rate and quantity of sensory stimulation, while raised pain thresholds allow for very intense stimulation to counteract the high level of S-system activation. Our proposed explanation of the passive avoidance deficit is this: the lesioned animals have not failed to learn to avoid the painful electric shock; rather, they actively seek the electrical stimulation. The animals’ improved performance in the active avoidance (shuttle-box) situation can be explained by the fact that escaping the shock allows them to perform a vigorous motor response (for example, jumping), from which they also derive intense stimulation. The so-called deficit in passive avoidance responding can be considered one feature of the overall stimulationseeking syndrome. This hypothesis is supported by five observations. First, lesioned animals exhibit the stimulation-seeking syndrome, including hyperactivity (Roberts et al., 1962), as well as the passive avoidance deficit. They show “excessive and persistent exploratory tendencies” (Grossman 1967: 750). Secondly, cingulate-lesioned rats also exhibit “passive avoidance deficit”; that is, they cross over spontaneously into the compartment in which they have been shocked, but they can acquire active avoidance as easily as intact rats. Interestingly, this happened more often when they were hungry than when sated (Thomas and Slotnick, 1963). The fact that the shock compartment was entered spontaneously rules out failure in learning or discrimination as an explanation of the so-called deficit: the action seemed deliberate. Since the behavior was more likely to occur when the animals were hungry, a state associated with increased S-system arousal, stimulation-seeking would be expected to increase, as would the probability of the animals crossing over into the compartment where shocks (stimulation) were received. Third, passive avoidance deficit following hippocampal lesions in rats is associated with an increased vocalization threshold (Blanchard and Fial, 1968),


217

suggesting that hippocampal lesions reduce the response to electric shock. It is recalled that beagles brought out of isolation into a testing room showed signs of considerable SNS activation after an initial period of crouching (PNS activation), and banged into objects without whimpering or showing signs of pain (Melzack, 1965). Fourth, increased hypothalamic activity is associated with lowered sensitivity thresholds. Direct stimulation of the hypothalamus via nocioceptive stimuli, which increase SNS activation, markedly enhances the cortical effect of optic or acoustic stimuli. The magnitude of these effects is quantitatively related to the intensity or frequency of hypothalamic stimulation (Gellhorn, 1964; Gellhorn and Ballin, 1954). Hippocampally-lesioned animals also have a significantly decreased “jump” threshold (Blanchard and Fial, 1968). Jumping behavior, a component of “escape” behavior, is interpreted as an expression of intense stimulation-seeking. Fifth, the expression “signs of emotionality” tends to assume a single continuum of arousal, when in fact there are distinct S- and P-systems of arousal. All forms of vigorous motor activity represent the upper end of the stimulation-seeking continuum, whereas immobility, urination and defecation represent intense P-system activation. Consistent with this distinction, Blanchard and Fial (1968) found that hippocampally-lesioned rats were not only poorer in passive avoidance but made fewer crouching responses (that is, showing sympathetic dominance). Conversely, groups of rats with high crouching scores made fewer passive avoidance “errors”, which supports the notion that Psystem dominance is associated with stimulation-avoidance behavior. The Orienting, Defense and Immobility Response Much has been written about the “orienting response” (OR), considerably less on the “defense response” (DR), and very little on the “immobility response” (IR), which is also referred to as tonic immobility. Figure 18.1 provides a model for understanding the relation between these responses, based on the proposition (Chapter 17) that “rebound” inhibition of the S-system by activation of the P-system occurs after prolonged and/or high degrees of incongruity; likewise, rebound inhibition of the P-system by the S-system can also occur under certain conditions. The implications of the model are, first, that there is only a quantitative difference between the OR and DR (Lynn, 1966) in terms of intensity of stimulationseeking behavior. Secondly, it suggests that the IR (stimulation-avoidance) occurs at extremely high levels of incongruity. Third, the model draws attention to the existence of rebound phases following prolonged DRs. For example, one thinks of such phenomena as the post-flight let-down reaction (Basowitz et al., 1955), the increased gastric acid secretion which follows work periods in “executive” monkeys (Brady, 1958a), and of post-examination and post-partum depression (Chapter 17). Fourth, by regarding the OR/DR and IR in terms of oscillations between the S- and P-systems, the model allows for the possibility of several rebound phases, depending on the initial degree of activation in response to incongruity (Graham and Clifton, 1966).

218


Figure 18.1 Diagrammatic representation of the OR (Orienting Response), DR (Defense Response) and IR (Immobility Response)

Chapter 19

Summary and Conclusions

Introduction Panic remains an elusive phenomenon and a controversial topic about which little is known. The transient nature of the behavior makes it difficult to study and ethical considerations largely rule out experiments. In military circles the topic is discussed only with reluctance (L’Etang, 1966), and little analytical material is available from this source (Schultz, 1964a). Within sociology, panic is studied under the rubric of collective behavior (for example, Smelser, 1963). Here, the focus has been mainly on the structural aspects of the situation (that is, physical danger and the availability of escape routes) and on the “non-adaptive” consequences of the behavior (Mintz, 1951), such as death by trampling or crushing. Within psychology, the tendency has been to move away from the analysis of specific emotions such as fear (Hebb, 1946) and to consider the topic within the broader framework of stress (for example, Appley and Trumbull, 1967). Panic states themselves have been vividly described (for example, Diethelm, 1932, 1934). Much is known about the physiology of the “fight or flight” reactions in both experimental (Cannon 1929; Hess, 1954; Hilton, 1965) and natural settings (for example, Hediger, 1955; Hinde, 1966). The present work began by questioning the traditional view of mass panic on the basis of descriptions of military panics that seemed to belie the notion that people respond to perceived danger and limited escape routes by self-preservative flight. On the contrary, the literature suggests that seeking the proximity of loved ones is the dominant response to threat and danger; furthermore, when escape is essential, the response usually entails simultaneous affiliation, and escape is directed towards familiar persons and places outside (or even inside) the danger area. In the course of this critique it also emerged that the traditional dichotomy of approach and avoidance was false and indeed that the classification of behavior in terms of common motivational categories such as eating, drinking, and sexual activity, along with the notion of specific areas of the brain corresponding to these categories (for example, “feeding center”) was flawed. An alternative theory has been proposed, according to which there are two general classes of behavior – stimulation-seeking behavior (SAB) and stimulation-avoidance behavior (SAB) – with corresponding brain areas, and these behaviors have infinite gradations in terms of intensity and directionality, such that traditional motivational behaviors can be considered arbitrary and often overlapping bands on a continuous spectrum of intensity of SSB.

220


It has been further proposed that individuals form cognitive maps of their interpersonal and physical environment and attempt to maintain these maps by seeking out the objects whose characteristics they represent. “Panic” is an evaluative term implying either highly intense SSB or SAB. It was proposed that SSB and SAB are centrally driven, respectively, by the S- and P-systems – structures in the brain with either sympathetic or parasympathetic-like functions – and that S-systeminduced SSB sows the seeds of its own inhibition via sensory stimulation which at some level “matches” the individual’s cognitive map and activates the P-system, which in turn inhibits the S-system, returning the individual to a neurocognitive status quo ante. The theory provides a new perspective on “panic” as well as other behavioral categories and on the organization of efferent activity in the brain itself. As a necessary preliminary for discussion, “panic” has been taken to include two general classes of behavior: (1) wild, agitated behavior, such as occurs in flight or attack, and (2) immobility or “freezing” responses. The Sociological Conception of Panic Group panic has been defined as “flight based on a hysterical belief” (Smelser, 1963), and the conventional explanation is that flight occurs if people believe (1) an imminent threat is present, and (2) escape routes are limited or closing (Quarantelli, 1954; Smelser, 1963, 1968; Janis and Leventhal, 1968). The theory is open to criticism on a number of points. First, the definition of panic as flight is too restrictive; panic can be an expression of both rage and fear (Brosin, 1943), and it can take the form of complete immobility (Lang and Lang, 1961). What causes these different types of reactions? Even if panic is restricted to flight or active escape, these reactions have been reported on the battlefield where no special threat was present or believed to be present (for example, L’Etang, 1966; Marshall, 1947; Freud, 1922; Eibl-Eibesfeldt, 1970). Participants in sensory deprivation experiments are known to “panic” on occasion and leave the testing room, most giving unbearable anxiety as their reason for leaving, but others offering physical symptoms such as backache, even though they were sweating, trembling and hyperventilating (Smith and Lewty, 1959). Panic flight has also occurred when exits were known to be blocked, as in the “blind” suicidal dashes made into the electrified barbed wire in Nazi concentration camps (Trautman, 1964; Cohen, 1953), and when exits were more or less unlimited, as in certain military panics (Schultz, 1964b). There are instances in which flight has not occurred even though both conditions were present. For instance, most Jewish families in Europe did not flee from the threat of the Nazis, although they realized that escape would soon become impossible (Bettelheim, 1960). Nor did panic occur on board the Titanic when the ship struck an iceberg and rapidly began to sink. A kind of collective self-sacrifice took place. After the women and children were put to sea in life boats, the men stood singing on the decks while the ship went down and all means of escape disappeared, even though


221

most of the boats were undamaged by the collision (LaPiere, 1938). Both initial conditions may be present, but immobility rather than flight may be the dominent response (Hebb, 1955). Of course, flight has occurred when a definite threat was believed present and escape routes were thought to be limited or closing. Some well-known panics fall into this category, such as the Iroquois Theater fire of 1903 in Chicago, and the Cocoanut Grove night-club fire of 1942. But the question is, how should these reactions be interpreted? Some authors assume that “flight” in such situations represents a “breakdown” of social controls and a return to a Hobbesian state in which each person tries to save himself, regardless of others. Underlying this view of panic is the assumption that individuals are driven by selfish instincts and that these must be controlled to prevent anarchy and chaos. The model also assumes that flight and aggression are distinct forms of behavior, like eating, drinking and sex, that is, having unique identifying features and distinct causal mechanisms. However, flight can take the form of approach or affiliative behavior in that animals and humans escape from certain situations to other situations, either to individuals or to some other “haven of safety” (Bowlby, 1960a). Rhesus monkeys reared from infancy with surrogate (that is, cloth and wire) mothers would always rush to them when frightened, and would approach a frightening object in order to contact the artificial mother – their “haven of safety” (Harlow and Zimmermann, 1959). Chimpanzees in a disturbing open-field test will cling to a social surrogate that keeps them in the danger situation rather than enter an enclosed cage that allows them to withdraw from it (Mason, 1967). Thus escape reactions are not necessarily directed away from the danger, but often toward objects or places (a favorite tree, burrow or nest) that may involve continued proximity with danger. Remaining close to comrades in combat is reportedly more important to the individual than avoiding enemy fire, and men will move through danger to be with their fellows rather than remain alone. Troops also tend to bunch together on the battlefield (Marshall, 1947). Some instances of “mass panic” in the military (see below) can be reinterpreted as affiliative responses. It is also suggested that when bona fide escape reactions do occur, they simultaneously take the form of approach (or affiliative) behaviors, the goal being to restore a threatened cognitive map by seeking the proximity of familiar persons and places, and thus, in consequence, reaffirm social attachments. Military Panics Panic among combat troops is very rare, despite the presence of extreme danger. Curiously, however, panic among troops is more common when there is no apparent increase in danger (for example, L’Etang, 1966; Marshall, 1947; Freud, 1922). Instances have occurred when one or more men, usually officers, made a sudden dash for the rear which others in the vicinity did not understand. It turned out that, in every case, the men ran for a legitimate reason. But the sight of these men in unexplained flight to the rear caused others to follow. This was how seven panics got

222


started among troops in World War II (Marshall, 1947). Were these panics instigated by a belief that danger was imminent and escape routes were closing? Bearing in mind the strong bonds of loyalty and friendship that are formed in combat units (Grinker and Spiegel, 1945b; Stouffer et al., 1949), and the tendency to bunch, alluded to above, I have suggested that such collective responses are more aptly characterized not as flight but as affiliative behavior; that is, the “threat” in such cases may be separation from comrades, not physical danger. Other reports indicate that men will move through danger in order to be reunited with their unit (Janis, 1963). Similar behavior is observed in animals. For instance, a sheep cut off from the flock makes frantic efforts to rejoin it (Munson, 1921). Certain battle charges, and cases of “pathological bravery”, may have a similar basis in affiliative behavior, a common response to stress. The sudden departure of an officer to the rear, or towards the enemy, may precipitate affiliative behavior in the troops. This might provide a partial explanation for cases in which the same troops have “panicked” and made “courageous charges” within a few hours or minutes of each other (Munson, 1921; Diethelm, 1932). What bearing does this discussion have on panics in theater fires and similar situations? Are they not “flight reactions pure and simple”? In contrast to combat troops, theater-goers as a group are typically strangers to each other. But escape behavior among individuals or couples in theaters is not directed simply away from danger. We may be sure that, once having succeeded in escaping the building, they will immediately contact and head toward loved ones. Intense affiliative behavior often persists for weeks or months after major trauma. Adler (1943) describes the case of a 17-year-old girl who survived the Cocoanut Grove fire with second to third degree burns, who for several months after the fire did not want to be left alone. Even in situations where individuals are fleeing from a definite threat, such as a burning theater, although the immediate concern is escape, individuals are highly likely to seek out those to whom they are closely attached. Consistent with this conjecture, other literature on stress and disaster shows that threatening events draw people closer together, increasing their attachments (Durkheim, 1947; Janis, 1963; Turner, 1967). In theater fires and similar panics, it is difficult to judge where “escape” behavior ends and “affiliative” behavior begins. They merge imperceptibly into each other rather than being separately identifiable phenomena. Thus, flight tends simultaneously to take the form of affiliative behavior, either toward loved ones or to some other familiar haven of safety. In summary, the dominant response to danger is affiliation rather than “fight or flight”; that is, maintaining social relationships takes precedence over escape. Secondly, and when escape does occur it tends to be directed toward attachment objects (familiar people and places).


223

Further Problems in the Approach–Avoidance Dichotomy Approach and avoidance tend to be regarded as mutually exclusive categories but, as suggested above, they are not mutually exclusive. A major problem with the approach–avoidance dichotomy is that it results from studying behavior in a contextual vacuum and neglects the fundamental and overriding importance of social attachments in animal and human behavior. Glickman and Schiff (1967) suggested that all behavior can be classified as either an approach or an avoidance response. Schneirla (1959, 1965) proposed that organisms approach stimuli of low intensity and withdraw from those of high intensity. Aside from the indeterminacy of these concepts, the hypothesis neglects the qualitative dimension of stimulation: the meaning, not just the intensity of stimulation, is a crucial determinant of behavior. In the days of sailing ships, the sight of a Skull and Cross Bones flag at sea instantly signaled danger. Conversely, there is considerable evidence that intense stimuli are often approached rather than avoided. For example, “punishing” stimuli are more effective in eliciting and maintaining attachments than “non-punishing” stimuli (Fisher, 1955, cited in Scott, 1967; Harlow et al., 1963). Studies have shown that punishment or rejection of children is associated with increased dependency behavior both concurrently and later in life (Zigler and Child, 1969). A severely punished child not only shows intense distress but simultaneously tries to seek contact with the punishing parent. People report of pleasure accompanying sensations produced by pricks, pressures and pinches (Wohlgemut, 1919). Sexual activity can involve intense stimulation, with sadomasochism as an extension and elaboration of this behavior. Isolated infant monkeys develop habits of pinching or chewing particular body parts (Harlow and Harlow, 1962), and severe self-mutilation is not incommon among highly distressed animals (Tinklepaugh, 1928) and human beings (Stinnett and Hollender, 1970). Violent headbanging is a common expression of tantrums in children (Barker, 1971). These examples challenge the view that withdrawal follows high intensity stimulation whereas approach follows stimulation of low intensity, as well as the traditional equations of approach with pleasure on the one hand, and avoidance with pain on the other. Several authors (Berlyne, 1967; Glickman and Schiff, 1967) have suggested that approach and withdrawal behaviors correspond to the so-called “positive” and “negative” reinforcement areas of the brain (Olds and Olds, 1965). But accumulating evidence suggests that the notion of inherently pleasurable and aversive neural pathways is an over-simplification. Insofar as a vigorous “escape” response elicited by brain stimulation is taken as evidence of an inherently aversive area, cats fail to avoid the stimulation producing this response, and often learn a response to obtain it (Roberts, 1958a,b). However, animals also learn a response that terminates the stimulation when it is particularly intense or prolonged. But if learning a response which terminates intracranical stimulation is the criterion of aversiveness, Valenstein and Valenstein (1964) have reported that rats will repetitively turn on and off electrical stimulation delivered to sites from which self-stimulation (“pleasurable effects”) have been elicited. Thus, termination of brain stimulation is not a response

224


unique to supposedly aversive stimulation. The Valensteins have also shown that the higher the intensity of the stimulation, the sooner the animals terminated the stimulation. However, there was no resistance to turning the stimulation on again; in fact, the stimulation was reset faster at the higher intensities; and when stimulus trains were fixed many times longer than the previously self-selected or preferred durations, there was no hesitation in turning the stimulus on again (Keesey, 1964; Hodos, 1965). “Emotional” and “Motivational” Behavior: Can they be Separated? The literature indicates that affiliation is preceded by a very wide variety of “activating” conditions and, whenever it occurs, many other behaviors tend to appear at the same time (Schachter, 1959; Harlow and Harlow, 1965; Walters and Parke, 1964b; Bowlby, 1969). These points challenge the traditional view that behavior can be classified into a number of separate activities, for example, flight, affiliation, eating, and drinking, each with unique identifying characteristics and specific causes (Duffy, 1962; Bindra, 1970). Four arguments support this conclusion. First, necessary and sufficient conditions for any given activity have not yet been discovered; in fact, the same factors that elicit one form of activity typically elicit other forms. For example, electric shocks administered to rats induce increased rates of eating and drinking (Miller, 1959); “mild disturbances” increase sexual activity in gulls and monkeys, and painful stimulation generated by electric shock elicits fighting in several mammalian species (Hinde, 1966). In human beings, prolonged stress can lead to obesity (Shorvon and Richardson, 1949), intense affiliative behavior (Marshall, 1947), and increased sexual desire and activity (Meerloo, 1950; Bancroft, 1970). Research on the natural substrate of motivational behavior has shown that there is much less anatomical specificity with respect to behavior within the hypothalamus than is commonly supposed. There is a considerable overlap between the sites yielding different behaviors on stimulation. The same electrode placements eliciting “oral” behaviors such as eating, drinking and gnawing, also elicit grooming, shuffling of food with the forepaws, digging, sexual behavior and many other activities, depending on the contingencies available in the testing situation (Valenstein et al., 1969, 1970). Wise (1968) suggested that different behaviors might be elicited at different thresholds of stimulation intensity, but in most cases where stimulation only elicited one behavior, even high intensity stimulation did not elicit a new behavior if the initially preferred goal object was removed. Also, when the preferred object was removed, a new behavior only emerged gradually, whereas its immediate appearance would have been expected if the behavior were mediated by an independent neural substrate with a high threshold (Valenstein et al., 1970). Second, there is a high degree of overlap or intercorrelation between activities (MacLean, 1963). For instance, in many aggressive or sexual situations, passerine birds wipe their beaks, preen their feathers, drink, eat or engage in some other


225

activity that seems unrelated to the context (Hinde, 1966). Courtship activities in many animal species involve not only sexual activity but also attack, fleeing, nestbuilding, singing and many others. In humans, some of the clearest examples of this are provided by studies of children separated from their parents. During certain periods following the separation, children show a behavioral syndrome that includes intense attachment behavior and dependency, generalized hostility, autoerotic behavior, intense and prolonged thumb-sucking, and an “insatiable greed” for food (Burlingham and Freud, 1944; Robertson, 1953; Heinicke, 1956). Third, many nonspecific and difficult-to-classify activities occur in close temporal contiguity with, for example, eating and drinking. Examples of these activities include thumb-sucking, head-banging, scratching, nail-biting, hyperactivity, and many others. It is tempting to try to subsume them within the traditional categories (for example, head-banging as “aggression against the self”) or to label them as separate “drives” (for example, exploratory, manipulatory, sniffing drives, and so on), but both solutions are unsatisfactory. Is nail-biting, for example, a form of aggressiveness or a form of eating behavior? To ask this question is to bring out the point that the assignment of many such activities to particular drives is arbitrary. Thus, many behaviors await classification – a reminder that no logical basis exists for the present ad hoc system of behavioral classification. Fourth, behaviors not only intercorrelate but are often indistinguishable from each other. For instance, the term aggression means acting with the intention of causing injury, but it can also be used adjectivally to characterize other actions (for example, “aggressive play”). The problem is that of separating the sexual and other components of action from the aggressive components. Wiepkema (1961) studied the reproductive behavior of the bitterling and found many external and internal factors common to groups of behaviors designated as sex, attack, or flight. In carnivorous species the very nature of feeding involves attacking and killing; varying degrees of aggressiveness occur in sex, and in attachment behavior. These examples suggest that it is more the vigor of the response rather than any particular features of the action that evokes the label of aggression. These arguments suggest that the independent existence of particular drives or behaviors is illusory. On this view the data need to be reconceptualized in a way that involves abandoning the traditional behavioral categories. Hypothesis of Inhibition by Sensory Feedback In summary, a wide range of events (“stressors”) create a state of physiological arousal which in turn is associated with a wide range of behaviors. This seemingly chaotic degree of nonspecificity regarding behavioral causes and effects can be clarified in terms of the following hypothesis, based on the notion that individuals of many species are driven to affiliate with other species members, to form bonds of attachments, and to maintain them.

226


It is proposed that individuals form cognitive maps of their sensorial environment which provide a template or standard against which subsequent input is evaluated. Stimuli interpreted as incongruous with the map (that is, “stressors”) activate subcortical pathways referred to collectively as the S-system. This system elicits varying intensities of stimulation-seeking, a tropism-like response which includes increased sympathetic (SNS) activity and motor behavior, depending on the degree of incongruity. It is suggested that proprioceptive and exteroceptive stimulation derived from this activity activates other neural pathways, referred to collectively as the P-system, which inhibits the S-system and produces stimulation-avoidance, an oppositie tropism-like response that includes parasympathetic (PNS) activity and a decrease in motor behavior. Beyond a certain degree of incongruity, P-system pathways are automatically activated in a “short-circuiting” process, producing motor arrest and strong parasympathetic responses (for example, cardiac deceleration, decreased blood pressure, increased gastrointestinal activity). Hence the relation between incongruity and stimulation-seeking is curvilinear. Recent studies increasingly point to a neurohumoral basis underlying the S- and P-systems. The lateral and basolateral amygdala and its efferents to the hypothalamus and brainstem play an important role in the autonomic expression of anxiety and fear behavior. Selective gating or inhibition of synaptic transmission though the amygdala serves to modulate fear responses. The amygdala expresses numerous neuropeptides and their receptors, including high levels of vasopressin and oxytocin, which have opposite effects on fear-related behavior: vasopressin enhances aggressiveness and anxiety, whereas oxytocin decreases anxiety and facilitates social encounters and maternal care. These neuropeptides excite distinct neuronal populations in the central amygdala, provide the the major output to the autonomic nervous system, and are part of an inhibitory network which modulates the integration of information from amydgdala and cerebral cortex in opposite ways (Huber et al., 2005). The concept of incongruity (or “mismatch”) with a cognitive map remains a heuristic device as there is no way, as yet, of measuring incongruity independently of its effects; it thus serves as a provisional concept for organizing the very broad range of events that can elicit alterations in arousal. There is considerable evidence, however, that moderately “noxious” stimuli activate pathways described here as the S-system (Gellhorn, 1967). These areas include the posterior, lateral and dorsomedial hypothalamus, posterior cingulate gyrus, stria terminalis, ventral tegmentum, mesencephalic reticular system, central grey matter and parts of amygdala, and produce vigorous “fight or flight” reactions when strongly stimulated (Hess, 1954; Hilton, 1965), accompanied by physiological responses suggesting increased SNS activation (for example, increased output of ACTH, cortical desynchronization, increased heart rate and blood pressure, and muscle vasodilatation). Milder intensities of direct stimulation applied to many of these areas produce a wide range of other “motivational” effects, depending on contingencies in the testing situation (Valenstein et al., 1970). Following Cannon’s (1929) suggestion that increased SNS activation prepares individuals for action, the overall physiological response to posterior hypothalamic


227

activation came to be seen as a state of dominance of the ergotropic system – that is, a system involved energy release (Hess, 1954; Gellhorn, 1967; Isaacson, 1971). This notion assumes that a line can be drawn between physiological activation and overt behavior, but the definition of a “behavioral act” remains elusive. The concept of stimulation-seeking, on the other hand, helps to clarify the function of the peripheral receptors, which have traditionally been considered in relative isolation from each another (cf. Gibson, 1966). It is well known that the sensitivity of the peripheral receptors increases as a general accompaniment to emotional excitement (Duffy, 1962), and it has been suggested that electrodermal activity serves to increase tactile sensitivity (Darrow, 1933; Edelberg, 1961). But this can be considred a rather passive view of physiological activity. Electrodermal activity, with fairly high levels of SNS activation, is accompanied by piloerection, dilatation of the pupils and increased scanning. We suggest that these activities do not simply increase peripheral sensitivity but actually facilitate an increased rate and quantity of input. They may be part of the stimulation-seeking response, not something antecedently contingent. To increase peripheral sensitivity is perhaps simultaneously to increase sensory input. A second reason for proposing the concept of stimulation-seeking as an alternative is that, bearing in mind the wide range of overt behaviors elicited by Ssystem stimulation, it is conceivable that all elicited behaviors that involve increased interactional commerce with the environment are designed, as it were, to increase sensory stimulation, depending on the degree of central activation. For example, the probability of eliciting attack behavior with hypothalamic stimulation is very low when available stimulus objects are blocks of foam rubber, but it increases progressively as a stuffed rat, an anaesthetized rat, and an unanaesthetized rat are substituted (Levison and Flynn, 1965). The latter objects provide increasing degrees of sensory stimulation for the animals. At milder levels of arousal, activities such as eating and drinking are elicited, but also nail-biting, thumb-sucking and rocking – activities which hitherto have been difficult to classify (Hinde, 1962) – but which collectively can be interpreted as moderately intense manifestations of stimulationseeking. Insofar as motor activity as well as peripheral receptor activity can be interpreted as stimulation-seeking, there is no discontinuity between physiological and motor behavior. Autonomic responses such as increased heart rate and muscle vasodilatation can be regarded as contributing to the capacity of the individual to seek stimulation from its environment. It is further suggested that stimulation-seeking serves to reduce S-system arousal (Berlyne, 1960; Mason, 1967); indeed, activity in just about any form can reduce fear (Haggard, 1943). Aggression is said to have the effect of “releasing tension” or “letting off steam”. But this notion, entailing the assumption that energy literally accumulates in the body tissues and is released by certain stimuli, has been extensively criticized as based on a false analogy (Hinde, 1960; Cofer and Appley, 1964). The question still remains as to how activity serves to reduce the level of central excitation.

228


It is postulated that the diminution of excitement which follows varying intensities of bodily activity is not the result of energy release but of an active inhibitory process involving the reception of sensory stimulation. The hypothesis is that inhibition of S-system activation is accomplished by sensory feedback derived from the activity of the organism itself. Such a mechanism can explain the observation that individuals in a state of intense pain or fear become highly agitated, jump up and down, bite themselves, or engage in some other apparently painful activity. It may also underlie the phenomenon by which cutaneous pain is temporarily alleviated by additional intense stimuli. For example, vibration both at the site of an itch and at a contralateral site reduces its intensity (Melzack and Schecter, 1965), and high levels of auditory noise stimulation inhibit the pain of dentistry and other surgical procedures (Licklider, 1959). In every case, the nervous discharge resulting from an initial stimulus is inhibited by subsequent stimulation arriving at a neighboring or distant site on a different sense modality. This principle may be built into the functioning of individuals such that they are aroused to seek the stimuli which inhibit the original discharge; hence the concept of stimulation-seeking. This teleological notion would not necessarily be recognizable, however, in terms of the reasons and motives which individuals may explicitly and consciously entertain in any given situation. To continue, the sensory stimulation derived from stimulation-seeking activates neural (P-system) pathways which in turn inhibit the S-system, eliciting PNS effects and stimulation-avoidance, thus completing a negative-feedback process. The Psystem includes pathways in the anterior and ventromedial hypothalamus, medial septum and dorsal hippocampus. There is evidence that direct stimulation of these areas elicit parasympathetic effects, including bradycardia, lowered blood pressure, pupiliary constriction (Kaada, 1951; Malmo, 1961; Perez-Cruet et al., 1963) and increased gastrointestinal activity (Pearl et al., 1966). Since direct septal selfstimulation block the development of conditioned emotional (“fear”) responses in laboratory animals (Brady, 1957), peripheral input may activate these and/or other P-system pathways. There is evidence that the anterior (P-system) and posterior (Ssystem) hypothalamus are mutually inhibitory in their effects (Gellhorn, 1967). Hess (1954) described the parasympathetic and somatic effects of P-system activation as a state of dominance of a trophotropic (or energy-conserving) system. But since the peripheral receptor effects are directly opposite to those of stimulatingseeking (for example, pupiliary constriction), it would be consistent with earlier arguments to describe the overall response as one of stimulation-avoidance, that is, as an active process designed to minimize sensory stimulation. As noted previously, very high degrees of incongruity elicit P-system arousal; in rats, for instance, intense electric shock depletes brain noradrenaline (Maynert and Levi, 1964) and leads to other PNS effects including defecation, urination and immobility. If sensory feedback inhibits the S-system via P-system activation, and the Psystem can also be automatically activated by exposure to extreme incongruity, it is also likely that the P-system can be inhibited automatically and by external input. For example, given that sleep is mainly a state of dominance of the P-system (Hess, 1954), since gastric and duodenal motility occur mainly at this time (Bloom et al.,


229

1970), it is likely that in the early hours of the morning there is a build-up of S-system activation (noradrenaline) which automatically wakens the organism by inhibiting the P-system (acetylcholine/serotonin). But the P-system could also be inhibited as a result of external input. For instance, the cycling effects of cutaneous vasoconstriction and vasodilatation, following the immersion of an extremity such as the hand, in cold water (Lewis, 1929), may reflect a central excitation-inhibition process; and Selye’s (1950) “general adaptation syndrome” (GAS) of alarm, resistance, and exhaustion in response to external stressors may also reflect gross organismic excitation and inhibition effects of central origin. Gellhorn and Loufbourrow (1963) have pointed out that the process by which fever can abolish asthma and arthritis may result from sympathetic hypothalamic hyper-reactivity, engendered by emotion or other actors, which interferes with the parasympathetic discharges associated with these symptoms. The Social Context of Emotional–Motivational Behavior Difficulties in the approach–withdrawal dichotomy stem from a neglect of the social context of behavior – in particular, social attachments. Insofar as approach and withdrawal involve vigorous motor activity, they are indistinguishable from each other, that is, part of the same overall process. The discussion of stimulation-seeking following S-system arousal has so far emphasized the quantitative and nonspecific aspects of the response. But stimulation-seeking is also directed at particular sources of input, notably other familiar individuals or physical “havens of safety”. The presence of a familiar animal in an otherwise stressful situation can diminish the signs of SNS arousal in another conspecific (Bovard, 1959). The same is true for human beings (Phillips, 1968). If a dog in a stressful situation is petted by a human he has learned to regard as friendly, heart rate deceleration occurs (Lynch, 1970). But “social stimuli” do not necessarily calm organisms in stressful situations; they can actually increase the SNS response (Back and Bogdonoff, 1964; Zajonc, 1965). Similarly, total cardiac arrest for eight seconds can be elicited in a dog by the presence of someone associated with previous pain and shock (Lynch, 1970). Bovard’s explanation for the calming effects of a familiar (“friendly”) animal on a conspecific is that stimulation derived from the presence of the familiar animal activates anterior hypothalamic pathways (P-system) which inhibit posterior hypothalamic activation (S-system). But what is it about the stimulation derived from the presence of an attachment figure that serves to activate the P-system? As noted, individuals actively seek the presence of familiar objects in stressful situations. Bovard’s hypothesis thus requires integrating into a more dynamic framework. One solution may involve extending the concept of cognitive map. My suggestion is that individuals form complex cognitive maps of the objects to which they are attached, and of various aspects of their environment. These cognitive maps are then actively maintained by sensory input from the external sources of stimulation from which they derive. Input which fails to match the model(s) triggers a negative-

230


feedback mechanism (stimulation-seeking) designed to match the cognitive map with its external counterpart. For most human beings, the strongest attachments are formed to certain other human beings. Hence, by definition, these “parts” of the individual’s overall cognitive map are the most psychologically “salient”, and incongruous behavior on the part of these attachment objects is more disturbing than incongruity from other sources. But in either case, the result is intense attachment behavior in an attempt to match the cognitive map with the characteristics of the attachment object(s) embodied in the map. Thus approach behavior represents a negative-feedback mechanism designed to correct for incongruity with respect to a cognitive map. This set of postulates may account for the facts, documented earlier in this work, that punishing or rejecting parents actually increase attachment behavior rather than causing withdrawal, contrary to predictions based on the hedonistic, individualisticallyoriented, approach–avoidance theory. Indeed, the more incongruous the behavior of the attachment object, the more intense the stimulation-seeking behavior directed toward it; and it may change progressively and imperceptibly from vigorous “affiliativeness” to violent “attack”. Stimulation-seeking is not just a matter of gaining a given quantity of input but of seeking particular patterns of input. “Congruity” activates the P-system and inhibits the S-system, thereby restoring the physiological status quo ante. What is being maintained in equilibrium in this homeostatic system linking one individual to other individuals is the integrity of a cognitive map, not a physiological “level of arousal”. The fact that a mother can terminate distress in her child by picking him up may be directly analogous to the phenomenon whereby pain can be temporarily relieved (inhibited) by the addition of further sensory input. The same hypothesis of “reciprocal inhibition by sensory feedback” may be applicable though, in the former case, contact with the mother not only provides the necessary quantitative feedback but a particular patterning of input (her characteristics) which matches the cognitive map the child has formed of her. On this hypothesis, social relationships are fundamental to individual existence. The loss of a loved object can increase the probability of early death, disease or mental ill-health in the surviving partner many times (Schmale, 1958; Parkes, 1970). In a sense, individuals are their relationships with others, not self-sufficient creatures with a set of “private” drives and self-contained regulating mechanisms. To return to our main theme, evidence suggests that it is mistaken to view collective or individual flight as a “lifting” of external constraints to expose an essentially autonomous human (or animal) nature. In examining the entire sequence of events, intense affliative behavior is observed, suggesting that a “re-affirmation of attachments” is the usual outcome rather than “self-preservation”. Approach and withdrawal (that is, flight) responses can therefore be considered two ways of looking at the same phenomenon; both may be stimulation-seeking responses designed to correct for incongruity. Escape from incongruity is simultaneously approach to congruity. The argument can be clarified by drawing on


231

the analogy of the central heating system. Just as it is inappropriate to ask whether the negative-feedback mechanism for correcting deviations from the required temperature is an “approach” response to the desired value or an “escape” response from the measured value, so it may be misconceived to pose the same question about human behavior, where it has been postulated that a homeostatic system operates to maintain congruity between cognitive maps and the external environment. Approach and avoidance are simply two sides of the same coin. To conclude, phenomena associated with panic can be understood in terms of the same model and principles that account for other behaviors. Panic includes (1) wild, agitated activity (stimulation-seeking), and (2) immobility responses (stimulation-avoidance). Stimulation-seeking results from activation of the Ssystem, and is hypothesized to be curvilinearly related to the degree of perceived incongruity, that is, beyond a certain degree, P-system activation (SNS inhibition) occurs automatically, leading to stimulation-avoidance. Inhibition of S-system activation following incongruity is achieved by sensory feedback resulting from self-initiated activity. To account for the directional quality of stimulation-seeking, it was proposed that individuals build cognitive maps of their environment which are organized hierarchically in terms of psychological salience, and they maintain them by seeking stimulation from the corresponding external sources of input. Thus a homeostatic system is involved in which the goal-state is the maintenance of a cognitive map which embodies a relationship between individuals and other psychologically salient aspects of their physical and interpersonal environment. Panic – as a descriptor applied to flight or affiliative behavior – is an evaluative term, and the intensity of stimulation-seeking at which “panic” occurs is arbitrary, a matter of social definition, just as the thermometer reading at which “coldness” or “heat” occurs is arbitrary.


Chapter 20

Understanding Mass Panic and Other Collective Responses to Threat and Disaster: Update1

Summary While mass panic (and/or violence) and self-preservation are often assumed to be the natural response to physical danger and perceived entrapment, the literature indicates that expressions of mutual aid are common and often predominate, and collective flight from danger be so delayed that survival is threatened. In fact, the typical response to a variety of threats and disasters is not to flee but to seek the proximity of familiar persons and places; moreover, separation from attachment figures is a greater stressor than physical danger. Such observations can be explained by an alternative “social attachment” model that recognizes the fundamentally gregarious nature of human beings and the primacy of attachments. In the relatively rare instances where flight occurs, the latter can be understood as one aspect of a more general affiliative response that involves escaping from certain situations and moving toward other situations that are perceived as familiar but which may not necessarily be objectively safe. The occurrence of flight-and-affiliation depends mainly on the social context and especially the whereabouts of familiar persons (that is, attachment figures); their physical presence has a calming effect and reduces the probability of flight-andaffiliation, while their absence has the opposite effect. Combining the factors of perceived physical danger and the location of attachment figures results in a fourfold typology that encompasses a wide spectrum of collective responses to threat and disaster. This chapter concludes with a brief discussion of the implications of the model for predicting community responses to terrorist attacks and/or use of weapons of mass destruction.

1 Major portions of this chapter were published in Psychiatry: Interpersonal and Biological Processes (Mawson, 2005), with commentaries by Norwood (2005), Raphael (2005) and Aguirre (2005). The chapter provides an updated summary of the ideas presented in this work, with special reference to mass panic and other collective responses to danger.

234


The collective response to threat and disaster has often been portrayed as tending toward hysteria and social breakdown, with mass panic (and/or violence) as the natural response to physical danger and perceived entrapment. However, mass panic is uncommon in situations such as combat (L’Etang, 1966), air-raid or bombing attacks (Janis et al., 1955), structural fires (Keating, 1982; Proulx, 2002), and disasters (Fritz and Williams, 1957; Quarantelli, 1960, 2001; Kinston and Rosser, 1974; Noji, 1997). On the contrary, expressions of mutual aid are common and tend to predominate. Nonetheless, given the September 11, 2001, attacks on the World Trade Center and Pentagon, the immediately subsequent anthrax letters, and widespread continuing concerns regarding population behavior in the event of terrorist attacks using weapons of mass destruction (Hyams et al., 2002; Durodié and Wessely, 2002; Levy and Sidel, 2003), a fresh appraisal of the literature on collective responses to threat and disaster is needed. The review indicates that the typical response to a variety of physical threats is neither “fight or flight” but affiliation – that is, seeking the proximity of familiar persons and places, even though this may involve approaching or remaining in a situation of danger; indeed, separation from attachment figures is a greater stressor than physical danger itself. Such observations can be explained by an alternative “social attachment” model of collective behavior under threat, a model that recognizes the fundamentally social nature of human beings and the primacy of attachments. In the relatively rare instances where flight does occur, the latter can be understood as one aspect of a more general affiliative response that involves escaping from certain situations and moving toward other situations that are perceived as familiar, but which may not necessarily be objectively safe. The occurrence of flight-andaffiliation depends mainly on the social context and especially the location of familiar persons (attachment figures); that is, their physical presence is calming and reduces the probability of flight-and-affiliation, while their absence has the opposite effect. Combining the factors of perceived physical danger and the location of attachment figures results in a four-fold typology that encompasses a broad spectrum of collective responses to threat and disaster. Implications of the social attachment model for predicting community responses to terrorist attacks and/or the use of weapons of mass destruction are briefly discussed. Terminology The term panic refers to inappropriate (or excessive) fear and/or flight and highly intense fear and/or flight. But whether defined as inappropriate or as highly intense fear or flight, instances of panic are difficult to identify in practice. The judgment of panic is usually made retrospectively, especially if serious loss of life occurred, and what may be considered inappropriate, excessive, irrational, or highly intense by observers may not be so judged by the participants themselves (Foreman, 1953; Wood, 1972; Swartz, 1980: 19; Mawson, 1978a, 1980b; Sime, 1980; Schoch-Spana, 2003). For instance, rushing for the exits in a structural fire may be the only rational course of action to take (Lazarus, 1966). Hence, the decision to label instances of

Understanding Mass Panic and Other Collective Responses to Threat and Disaster

235

collective flight as panic is arbitrary. Common symptoms of intense fear, such as anxiety, nausea, vomiting, and dizziness, can be normal reactions to abnormal events (Pastel, 2001; Lacy and Benedek, 2003). This discussion focuses on individual and collective flight behavior, recognizing that such behavior can assume varying degrees of intensity. The Causes of Group Flight According to the classical “entrapment theory” of mass panic (for example, Mintz, 1951; Quarantelli, 1954, 1957, 1977; Janis et al., 1955; Fritz and Marks, 1954; Fritz and Williams, 1957; Smelser, 1963; Turner, 1964; Killian, 1972; Chandessais, 1971; Janis, 1971), flight occurs if people believe that, 1) major physical danger is present or imminent, and 2) escape routes are either limited or rapidly closing. Conditions 1) and 2) are individually necessary; together they provide sufficient conditions for group flight. According to Janis and Leventhal (1968: 1061), “It is this combination of cognitions, whether or not they are correct inferences about the situation … designated as ‘perceived entrapment,’ which is most likely to lead to wild flight, trampling of fellow victims, and other uncontrollable, distraught reactions of the type referred to as panic.” A specific belief in danger can be inferred from the circumstances of many instances of mass flight, for example, from theater fires (Smelser, 1963: 151), but the existence of such beliefs among participants in some cases of troop flight has been questioned. For instance, Marshall (1947: 145) states that: “… every large panic starts with some very minor event … [T]roops will always run if they see others running and do not understand why.” A belief in limited or closing escape routes appears to have been a necessary condition in many historic cases (Smelser, 1963: 137), but some military panics have occurred in situations where escape routes were virtually unlimited (Schultz, 1964a: 11). Are both beliefs sufficient to cause flight? The theory accounts successfully for the classic, theater-fire type panics, such as the Chicago Iroquois Theater fire of 1903, and the 17 February 2003 fire at South Side Chicago’s Epitome nightclub, in which 21 people were killed and 19 others critically injured. (http://www.cnn.com/2003/‌US/ Midwest/‌02/17/‌chicago.nightclub/‌index/html). But flight does not always occur even though both beliefs, or conditions, are present. Tyhurst (1951) studied reactions to community disasters and found that only 12 percent to 25 percent of adults responded by fleeing when informed that their apartment house was on fire or that a flash flood was imminent. Three-quarters or more engaged in aimless and irrelevant movements rather than the expected flight behavior. Convincing evidence against the theory comes from two detailed case studies specifically concerned with mass flight. The famous Orson Welles radio broadcast on the “War of the Worlds” in October 1938 dramatically depicted the advance of Martians in terms of partial encirclement – precisely the conditions for flight stipulated by the theory. The broadcast occurred when radio listening was at a peak

236


in the United States and took the form of a newscast, that is, “news” being reported in a highly realistic manner. According to estimates made at the time (Cantril et al., 1940), 6–12 million people heard the broadcast and 28 percent (that is, 2.5 million) believed the program was an actual newscast. Of these 2.5 million, 70 percent were “excited” or afraid (Lemkau, 1973). No estimate was provided of the number of persons who fled, but of those who listened to the broadcast, believed what they heard and were frightened, the vast majority did not flee but instead contacted relatives and friends. Most of those who fled were either unattached to families in the area or fled only after other family members had assembled (Cantril et al., 1940: 144–146). This was contrary to newspaper reports at the time, of a mass exodus from New York City. A Swedish study of responses to a radio broadcast of a fictitious radioactive leak from a nuclear power plant (Rosengren et al., 1975) involved a telephone survey of a representative sample of the population and unstructured interviews with police and other authorities. Contrary to media reports of widespread “panic”, only about 1 percent reacted behaviorally to it, consisting “as a rule … of contacting family members, relatives or neighbors, over the telephone or face-to-face …” (p. 307). Not a single case was found among the 1,089 respondents of anyone actually fleeing. If such reactions occurred, the authors suggested, they were very rare. As mentioned, mass flight from the scene of community disasters is uncommon. “Organized” and often altruistic behavior is the rule (Kinston and Rosser, 1974; Edwards, 1976; Quarantelli and Dynes, 1977; Keating, 1982; Johnson, 1987; Feinberg and Johnson, 2001; Glass and Schoch-Spana, 2002; Schoch-Spana, 2003; Proulx, 2002, 2003). Although the conditions for flight stipulated by the theory do not exist in most disasters, in those where the conditions would be expected to prevail, such as anticipated bombing raids, approaching tidal waves, or fires in highrise buildings, evacuation has often been minimal (Lachman et al., 1961; Kinston and Rosser, 1974; Edwards, 1976; Proulx, 2002). Assumptions in the “Entrapment” Theory of Flight Earlier views of mass panic rested on the following assumptions: 1. The typical response to danger is self-preservative aggression or flight (for example, Cannon, 1932; McDougall, 1920; Petersen, 1953; Brown, 1954). According to McDougall (1920: 24), “[T]he sudden appearance of imminent danger may instantaneously convert any concourse of people into a crowd and produce the characteristic and terrible phenomena of a panic. In each man, the instinct of fear is intensely excited; he experiences that horrible emotion in full force and is irresistibly impelled to save himself by flight.” 2. Flight is directed toward an objectively safe place, away from danger. In his classic text on collective behavior, Smelser (1963: 131) defined panic as “collective flight based on a hysterical belief”, and asserted that when people have accepted a


237

“belief about some generalized threat [they] flee from established patterns of social interaction in order to preserve life, property, or power from that threat.” Quarantelli (1957) also noted the typically short duration of flight and suggested that this related directly to the individual’s perception of having reached a safe distance from the threat. 3. Implicit in the disaster literature is that physical dangers are more disturbing or stressful than other kinds of events. 4. Flight is prevented from occurring in danger situations by social control in the form of regimentation, discipline, firm leadership (LaPiere, 1938; Boring, 1945: 456; Kelland, 1930; Rickman, 1938; L’Etang, 1966) and other social norms (Smelser, 1963: 157–163) that take effect by regulating or constraining the individual’s natural tendency to flee. Response to Threat Evidence suggests that each of the above assumptions is questionable. 1. Self-Preservative Flight Human beings under threat of death are not motivated by a simple drive for physical safety. Rather than fight or flight, the typical response to danger is affiliation; that is, seeking the proximity of familiar conspecifics and places, even if this involves remaining in or approaching a situation of danger (Baker and Chapman, 1962; Kinston and Rosser, 1974; Henderson, 1977). Bowlby (1973: 91) has suggested that attachment behavior serves the evolutionary-adaptive function of providing protection from natural predators, and notes that in young animals of many species, attachment behavior frequently takes precedence over escape. Both Cantril et al. (1940) and Rosengren et al. (1975), in their studies of responses to threatening radio broadcasts, found that individuals sought out loved ones and only fled when all family members had assembled. In the devastating Southeast Michigan Flint-Beecher tornado of June 1953, people tended to turn to and protect loved ones rather than flee from the threat (Form and Nosow, 1958: 26–27). Studies of behavior in structural fires likewise show that occupants tend to converge and cluster (Bryan, 1985, 1986, 2002). Governments and other official organizations have great difficulty getting people to evacuate before and during disasters: “traditional family ties often keep individual members in the danger zone until it is too late” (Hill and Hansen, 1962: 217). In England during World War II, evacuation programs were seriously hampered because parents preferred to keep their children with them at home in the cities rather than send them away to the safety of the countryside (Titmuss, 1950). Studies indicate that most residents tend to remain in the disaster area, while those who flee are unattached to the area (Cantril et al., 1940: 144–146; Quarantelli and Dynes, 1977). When residents are forced to evacuate, they tend to do so as a group (for example, Cantril et al., 1940; Freeman and Cooper, 1940) or in family units (Quarantelli and

238


Dynes, 1977), thereby maintaining proximity and contact with familiars. Remaining close to companions in combat is also more important to the individual than avoiding enemy fire (Marshall, 1947: 195). 2. Direction of Flight Flight is not always directed toward an objectively safe place, away from danger, but tends to be part of a wider response that simultaneously involves movement away from danger and movement toward objects and situations that are familiar and perceived as safe. Studies of young animals and children indicate that flight is usually directed not simply away from danger but toward familiar conspecifics and places. In many species, “to move away from an alarming situation is … only half the picture of fear behavior. The other half is to move towards some place treated as though safe or to make physical contact with companions” (Bowlby, 1973: 129). Salzen (1978) also suggests that flight or escape serves to move organisms from areas of strange to areas of familiar stimulation, and Gray (1971) hypothesizes that active avoidance behavior is motivated by the search for, and reinforced by, the attainment of “safety signals” in the environment. In the classic cases of flight from theaters and other buildings, where escape seems to be the single overriding motive, little consideration has been given to the sequelae and directionality of flight. Although the initial response to sudden danger may be unidirectional escape, the immediately subsequent response is to contact relatives and friends by telephone or by going home, as soon as the individuals concerned can do so. In general, evacuees orient themselves in the direction of relatives whose homes are outside the danger area (Moore et al., 1963: 57; Drabek and Boggs, 1968). Evacuating families forced to go to official evacuation sites tend to form clusters that partially duplicate their old neighborhoods (Bates, 1963), suggesting an “intention to restore the familiar in the midst of unfamiliar surroundings” (Bolin, 1976: 268). Affiliative behavior continues at a high level of intensity after disasters involving escape behavior, and after disasters in general (Bloch et al., 1956; Newman, 1976). Interactions with family members are also more frequent up to three years after disasters (Bates et al., 1963; Bolin, 1976; Drabek and Key, 1976; Erickson, 1977, 1995). All of the conditions known to elicit flight in humans also elicit attachment behavior (Bowlby, 1969). Precipitating conditions for flight include “alarming events” of many different kinds (Schultz, 1965) such as fires, the appearance of new types of weapon on the battlefield, explosions, flooding, disease epidemics, military invasion, and the like. Predisposing conditions implicated in cases of mass flight (Strauss, 1944; Schultz, 1965) include fatigue, illness, malnutrition, and excessive heat or cold (Dollard, 1944; Meerloo, 1950; Lang and Lang, 1961; Boring, 1945), as well as psychosocial factors such as isolation, poor morale, loss of confidence in leaders, and the absence of leaders or companions (Boring, 1945; Quarantelli, 1954, 1957, 1977; Lang and Lang, 1961; Meerloo, 1950; Marshall, 1947; Schultz, 1964b, 1971a; Janis, 1963). Attachment behavior is similarly elicited by alarming events such as the appearance of unfamiliar persons, by strange and unfamiliar surroundings (Bowlby, 1969: 259; Bowlby, 1973: 96–123), as well as by the predisposing conditions listed


239

above, that is, fatigue, hunger, ill-health, cold, and actual or threatened separation (Bowlby, 1969: 259; Bowlby, 1973; Alloway et al., 1977). 3. Physical versus Psychosocial Stress Physical danger, as a whole, appears to be far less disturbing or stressful than separation from familiar conspecifics and surroundings (Janis and Leventhal, 1968: 1061–1064; Kinston and Rosser, 1974; Edwards, 1976). During the bombing raids on London in World War II, children showed no particular signs of distress, even if exposed to extremely violent scenes, if they were with a parent during such incidents. It was only if children were separated from parents under these conditions that serious psychological disturbances occurred (Freud and Burlingham, 1945), suggesting that disruption of the family bond was a more traumatic factor than the air raids (Glover, 1942). Glass (1954a,b) similarly found that only 15 percent of psychiatric casualties evacuated from battle zones and given intensive psychotherapy could subsequently be returned to combat. If these men were kept in the battle zones with their own units, the rate of return to combat was much higher. In analyzing the social and psychological effects of tornado disasters, Moore (1958) found more frequent symptoms of disturbance among persons forced to move because of serious damage to their homes than among those who were able to remain. Non-returning evacuees experience significantly more fearful reactions, injuries, and other problems than those remaining in the disaster area (Milne, 1977a,b). In general, separation from or the loss of familiar persons and surroundings has profoundly adverse effects on mental and physical health (Rutter, 1972; Erickson, 1977; Henderson, 1977; Jacobs and Ostfeld, 1977; Lynch, 1998; DeVries et al., 2003). 4. Prevention of Panic The rarity of mass flight among combat troops has often been attributed to regimental discipline and firm leadership, but social control in the form of coercion does not account for persistent combat effectiveness in the face of danger (Keegan, 1976: 277). Individuals of many species often remain calm and unafraid in danger situations, an effect that seems to depend largely on the immediate social context; that is, individuals are calmed by the presence of attachment objects, while the reverse is true if they are alone, with strangers, or in unfamiliar surroundings (Bovard, 1959; Epley, 1974; Bowlby, 1973: 297; Kamarck et al., 1995; Gunnar, 1998; DeVries et al., 2003). Fighting effectiveness and the willingness to engage in combat depend on the establishment and maintenance of “primary group” relations between officers and men rather than on loyalty to political ideals or fear (Phillips, 1943; Grinker and Spiegel, 1945b; Shils and Janowitz, 1948; Marshall, 1947: 150; Stouffer et al., 1949; Janis, 1963). As Marshall (1947: 17) eloquently states: “I hold it to be one of the simplest truths of war that the thing which enables an infantry soldier to keep going is the presence of a comrade … The other man may be almost beyond hailing distance, but he must be there somewhere within a man’s consciousness or the onset of demoralization is almost immediate… .” Morale surveys conducted in World War II showed that many soldiers were reluctant to be allocated to other units because they felt safer with their own group (Janis, 1963). The most extreme stresses,

240


including drowning at sea, can be calmly faced if the individual is not separated from his fellows (Burns and Kimura, 1963: 170) or if morale is high (LaPiere, 1938: 458–459). Conversely, being alone, in an unfamiliar environment, or with strangers heightens the response to stress (Back and Bogdonoff, 1964; Kinston and Rosser, 1974; Edwards, 1976; Kaplan et al., 1977; Henderson, 1977) and increases the probability of flight (Lanham, 1943; Keegan, 1976: 271). The Rarity of Flight in Community Disasters and Combat Flight is said to be rare in these situations because the necessary and sufficient conditions (belief in imminent danger and limited escape routes) do not usually hold, and because social controls are operative. However, flight does not always occur even when both conditions appear to be present. As we have seen, physical danger tends to elicit approach to familiar persons and places; most disasters tend to occur in familiar surroundings; and both disaster victims (and troops in the combat zone) tend to be with individuals to whom they are attached. Hence, affiliative “bunching” in the danger zone would be the expected outcome rather than flight. The rarity of flight in community disasters and combat may also be explained by the fact that both the appraisal of and response to danger are diminished by the presence of attachment objects, as noted above. The observations that visitors tend to be the ones to flee disaster areas, and that “panic” is more common in recently-assembled than in longestablished military units (Shils and Janowitz, 1948) can be explained by the fact that the persons concerned are in unfamiliar territory and with comparative strangers, and would thus be expected to have an increased tendency for flight-and-affiliation to their own objects of attachment and familiar locations. Explaining the Occurrence of Flight in Non-Threatening Situations Collective flight on the battlefield has been precipitated by the appearance of new types of weapons (Auld, 1918; Meerloo, 1950: 49). However, flight can occur in the absence of danger and in situations where escape routes are virtually unlimited (Freud, 1922; Marshall, 1947; Schultz, 1964a: 11). Marshall (1947: 145–146) describes seven such incidents in World War II, and noted their common origin: …[I]t can be laid down as a general rule that nothing is more likely to collapse a line of infantry than the sight of a few of its number in full and unexplained flight to the rear … That was how each of these seven incidents got its start. One or two or more men made a sudden run to the rear which others in the vicinity did not understand … [I]n every case the testimony of all witnesses clearly developed the fact that those who started the run … had a legitimate or at least a reasonable excuse for the action.

Two explanations have previously been suggested for such cases. First, according to Smelser (1963: 154): … [T]he initial flight itself creates – as the remarks of Marshall show – a new set of necessary conditions for panic. To see someone running wildly is prima facie evidence


241

that he is seeking to escape through limited exits … and that he is anxious. Furthermore, this observed flight is a precipitating event for the observer, and gives rise to the belief that something frightening is present, even though this “something” may not be identical to that which caused the original flight.

Smelser proposes that those who ran after seeing others doing so believed that danger was imminent and that escape routes were closing. This explanation cannot be entirely discounted. However, the explanation dwells exclusively on what the initial flight means to the observer in terms of objective dangers to be anticipated rather than what it means in light of the observer’s relationship to the fleeing individual(s), and it underemphasizes the nuances of meaning that can arise when one or more men, in whom confidence and trust have been placed, behave contrary to expectations. A second hypothesis (Freud, 1922; Schultz, 1964b) begins with the observation that strong affectional ties existing between the members of most military units make the danger of combat seem relatively slight. Panic arises because of the “loss of the leader in some sense or other, the birth of misgivings about him …” (Freud, 1922: 29), or because of the flight of a leader, entailing the break-up of affectional ties (Schultz, 1964b). As a result, the individual flees because he suddenly feels alone and because his fears are intensified. The difference between the theories is that group ties must “break down” before external danger leads to flight. However, when these ties have disintegrated, the behavior of individuals is the same, that is, a Hobbesian struggle for survival in the face of closing escape routes. Here we suggest an alternative hypothesis: namely, that the initial run is experienced by the observer as a threat to social ties; more specifically, as signaling abandonment and separation. Thus, we interpret the subsequent action of the observer not as an attempt to escape real or imagined dangers but as an attempt to maintain proximity with those who started the run, including the group leader; that is, an affiliative response designed to reaffirm social bonds (Mawson, 1978a). In support of this interpretation, it has been noted that combat troops and their officers – separated from family and familiar surroundings – grow fiercely attached to each other; and these bonds are especially strong prior to and during combat (Stouffer et al., 1949; Janis, 1963; Little, 1964; George, 1971; Sohlberg, 1976; Dasberg, 1976; Teichman, 1977; Ambrose, 2002: 109; but see Moskos, 1975, on the Vietnam War). The threat of separation is also a major determinant of affiliative behavior as well as a common experience on the battlefield (Dasberg, 1976: 311), and there is much evidence that attachment behavior occurs under such conditions. Individual soldiers try to avoid being separated; they will go through danger to be reunited with their unit, and tend to bunch together in combat (Marshall, 1947: 340). The Social Attachment Model of Human Behavior in Disasters The social attachment model (Mawson, 1978a, 1980b) represents a synthesis of the above observations and conclusions. Its central tenets are as follows:

242


(1) Maintaining proximity to familiars is the dominant motive in disasters, an intense expression of the fundamentally gregarious nature of human beings. (2) Flight can be considered the reverse side of the coin of affiliative behavior, that is, one aspect of a more general response that involves movement away from danger and toward people and places viewed as familiar. (3) The occurrence of flight-and-affiliation depends not only on the perceived degree of danger but, more importantly, on the social context, that is, the location or whereabouts of familiar persons and places. (4) The presence of familiar persons influences the perception of and response to danger, in that fear is diminished by proximity to attachment figures. (a) In situations where individuals are close to attachment figures, not even the most severe environmental threats ordinarily cause flight; the usual outcome is intense affiliative behavior. (b) On the rare occasions when flight does occur, individuals tend to move away as a group, thereby maintaining proximity with attachment figures. (c) However, in situations where the individual is alone or with strangers, even mild threats can precipitate flight-and-affiliation to familiar persons and locations at a distance (see Figure 20.1). Typology of Responses to Disaster Based on the foregoing, a typology of individual and collective reactions to threatening situations is proposed, combining the factors of perceived physical danger (precipitating condition) and levels of social support available in the situation (that is, the presence or absence of attachment objects) (predisposing condition). Whether a particular threat leads to flight-and-affiliation depends largely on the severity of predisposing conditions. If precipitating and predisposing conditions are subdivided, respectively, into two extremes – “anxiety versus fear or terror”, and “attachment figures present/absent” – a four-fold typology of progressively more intense responses emerges (labeled Outcomes A, B, C, and D) that incorporates a wide spectrum of collective reactions to threats and disasters (Figure 20.1). Outcome A – Affiliation Where the level of physical danger is low (causing anxiety) and individuals are in the presence of attachment figures or objects, the threshold for flight-and-affiliation is high, and flight from the vicinity is rare; the usual outcome is increased attachment behavior. This is the most common response to community threats and disasters. Individuals tend to contact relatives and friends and/or remain together at home. Other examples of Outcome A are increased bunching activity among troops in the combat zone, and the myriad everyday instances of attachment behavior shown by children and adults in the face of mild threats (for example, calling or going home).


Outcome A:

Outcome B:

Affiliation

Orderly Evacuation by Non-Residents

Increased attachment behavior, i.e., individuals seek proximity with familiar people and locations, as occurs in most community disasters.

Flight-and-affiliation of low intensity. Orderly movement away from danger and toward the familiar, for example, evacuation by tourists in “mild” community disasters and “bunching” among combat troops.

Outcome C:

Outcome D:

Evacuation by Community Residents

Intense Flightand-Affiliation

As in Outcome A, or occasional low-tointense flight-andaffiliation, for example, orderly evacuation in major disasters; occasional “panic” in seasoned combat units due to the appearance of new weapons.

Intense flight-and-affiliation, that is, responses commonly labeled “mass panic”, as in structural fires, and in unattached or weakly attached combat units.

Mild (Anxiety) Perceived Physical Danger (Precipitating Conditions)

Severe (Fear, Terror)

243

Figure 20.1 Typology of individual and collective reactions to threat and disaster (Outcomes A-D), based on a combination of precipitating conditions, that is, degree of physical danger, ranging from anxiety (“mild”) to fear and/or terror (“severe”), and predisposing conditions, that is, the whereabouts of attachment figures (physically present or absent)

Outcome B – Orderly Evacuation by Non-Residents Where the degree of danger is low, but individuals are alone or with strangers, the threshold for flight-andaffiliation is still relatively low, and flight-and-affiliation of low intensity would be expected to occur. Such behavior is often described not as panic but as orderly flight or evacuation. Exemplifying Outcome B would be the flight-and-affiliative behavior of those temporarily away from home towards their own homes and families. At

244


this level of perceived danger (which tends to be minimized or downplayed in the home environment) the majority of local inhabitants remain in their familiar environment. Outcome C – Evacuation by Community Residents Where the danger level is high (intense fear or terror) but people are with familiars, flight-and-affiliation occur occasionally in spite of exceptionally strong bonds to persons and places in the danger zone. In such cases, individuals tend to evacuate as a group, either as families or neighborhood groups, thereby keeping close together. The intensity of egress depends on the magnitude and imminence of the threat. Examples of Outcome C include occasional “panics” in seasoned military units in the face of overwhelming or unexpected danger, and large-scale community evacuations during major fires or other disasters. Outcome D – Intense Flight-and-Affiliation Where the danger level is high (inducing fear or terror) and individuals are either alone or with strangers, flightand-affiliative behavior of high intensity would be expected to occur. This response is often described as “mass panic”. Examples include the classic, entrapmenttype “panics”, together with cases of flight-and-affiliation in combat units where attachments between individuals are either weak or nonexistent and where, in effect, each person experiences the stress of combat as an isolated individual. In these types of situations, flight-and-affiliation sometimes takes the form of highly individualistic and competitive behavior. However, such behavior can be viewed as an attempt to seek proximity and contact with distant attachment objects. Immediately or very shortly after vacating a burning building, individuals attempt to contact relatives and/or go “home”, that is, seek the familiar. Behavior in Structural Fires Aspects of the typology can be illustrated by noting the importance of the social context in understanding collective responses to different types of structural fire. In the case of fires in theaters and clubs, people generally encounter danger in an unfamiliar place, surrounded by unfamiliar people. Intense flight-and-affiliation to attachment objects outside the theater (Outcome D) would therefore be the expected behavior pattern. On the other hand, in the case of fires occurring in familiar locations such as office buildings (and especially homes) people would be expected to show a tendency to increase their attachment behavior within the structure (Outcome A) rather than evacuating it (Outcome C). Affiliative tendencies would presumably be shown particularly strongly by children in their own homes, and perhaps also by the frail elderly. In fact, research is needed to determine whether young children are more apt to engage in attachment behavior under such conditions and whether this may account, in part, for the increased susceptibility of children to injury and death in residential fires. In residential fires in general, the model would predict, a) numerous manifestations of attachment behavior to persons and places within the structure, b)


245

a widespread tendency to downplay the danger, c) a general reluctance to evacuate, d) prolonged delays in departure, and e) far less precipitous and intense escape behavior than if the fire had occurred in an unfamiliar location. Several observations on behavior during and after a fire in an apartment building in Winnipeg, Canada, support these predictions (Scanlon, 1979): • “...former residents could not resist wandering back to the abandoned building …”; • “44 percent of the occupants said that when the alarm was sounded they assumed it was a false alarm …”; • “Many of those who reacted to the alarm ... went looking for confirmatory evidence of a fire …”; • “Despite the evidence of their own senses, some people decided not to evacuate immediately … more than half took their time leaving …”; • “Some people, despite hearing an alarm, carried on with incredibly inappropriate behavior and took enormous risks”; • “Many people wandered around in the building before they finally left”; • “One in six people who left the building, in spite of seeing smoke and flames while they were in the open, went back inside.” In his review of the literature on behavior in fire, Bryan (1986) cites numerous observations consistent with social attachment theory. Research Relevant to the Social Attachment Model The social attachment (“affiliative”) model of group behavior in emergencies (Mawson, 1978a, 1980b) has been formally tested in a number of studies. Noting that the “panic model” assumes that escape involves a homogeneous mass of people competing for limited exits, whereas the “affiliative” model predicts that individuals with close ties first seek and find each other and then attempt to escape as a group, Sime (1983, 1985) studied responses to fire in a large resort complex (“Summerland”) in the UK based on accounts collected from 500 survivors. About 3,000 vacationers were present and 50 people died. Accounts of the fire and behavior in the fire, collected from survivors by the police, formed the basis of the study. This was a classic entrapment situation in which a complete breakdown of psychological ties would have been expected on the “panic” model. However, about 50 percent of those in the sample who were initially separated from primary group members managed to escape with the rest of their primary group, and 73 percent escaped with one or more group members (79 percent were members of families). Consistent with the social attachment model, mixed-group members were less likely to stay together in intact groups while escaping, and separated individuals did not try to re-form into intact groups unless they had family group attachments somewhere in the building. Supporting the notion that movement toward familiar persons and places characterizes flight behavior, most of those studied headed toward the familiar

246


main entrance. A detailed analysis of behavior in one area of the building (“Marquee Show Bar” – MSB) showed that individuals who were separated from their group had positioned themselves near, and left near, the entrance they were familiar with; restaurant staff left by their familiar route to work (the fire exit staircase); and most of the separated individuals had positioned themselves close to the familiar entrance. Thus, the direction of movement in the area was based on a combination of the person’s role (and hence familiarity with a particular escape route), affiliative ties to individuals who were in another location in the building, and consequent proximity to one exit or the other. The contribution of group ties to deaths and injuries resulting from the Summerland fire was also analyzed by Sime. He found that all of the 13 people in the MSB who died were attached to their groups when alerted to the fire, but “[t]hese groups evidently delayed their departure. In trying to escape in groups ... these people were caught by the encroaching smoke and flames” (Sime, 1983, p. 38). Affiliative behavior increased the danger to the family groups because the latter were slower to escape. On the other hand, separated individuals were quicker to respond to the ambiguous cues by escape behavior and hence none was seriously injured. Thus group ties and affiliative patterns of behavior in entrapment situations created by building fires can increase the risk of injury and death to attached individuals by delaying their departure. In a study of the evacuation behavior of occupants of the former World Trade Center following the explosion on 26 February 1993, based on interviews with 350 participants, Aguirre et al. (1998) found that evacuating groups comprising a high proportion of acquainted persons with deep social ties were the slowest to begin evacuating. Other research consistently shows that people are slow to react to initial warnings and wait to evacuate with their primary group (Perry, 1994; Fitzpatrick and Mileti 1991). In high-rise buildings a lethargic response is usually observed in response to fire alarms, voice communication instructions, or even initial cues of a fire, and occupants are generally reluctant to leave their floor (Proulx, 1999). In the Beverly Hills Supper Club fire in Southgate, KY, in May 1977, which resulted in 165 fatalities, social ties existing among the occupants of the club (family, social, and occupational ties) profoundly influenced behavior in the fire. A high level of assistance and civility was shown to others, and it was concluded that the data supported a “social organization” rather than a “social breakdown” model of behavior in fire (Johnson, 1988; Feinberg and Johnson, 2001). When the M/V Estonia car ferry sank in 1994, 851 passengers and crew died and only 137 (14 percent) survived. The high fatality rate was due to the rapid sinking of the vessel, coupled with physical barriers to escape caused by severe listing. This made it virtually impossible for family members or the crew to help one another. However, eyewitness testimony revealed that people tried to form human chains by holding on to one another’s legs in the struggle to reach the upper deck, and great efforts were made to provide mutual aid. There were also many accounts of men fleeing with wives, mothers or girlfriends, and of people attempting to stay together during the escape (Cornwell et al., 2001). Following the more recent attack on the World Trade Center on September 11, 2001, 480 first-person accounts were collected from survivors about their evacuation,


247

of which 324 accounts were available for analysis (Proulx, 2003). As many as 83 percent judged the situation to be very serious in the first few minutes after the strike. Yet despite seeing flames, smoke, or falling paper, only 55 percent of the survivors evacuated immediately; another 13 percent stopped to retrieve belongings, and 20 percent secured files and searched floors before evacuating. Initially, 8 percent decided to stay but changed their minds, and 4 percent were trapped due to collapsing ceiling and walls, but then managed to escape. Many commented on how calm and helpful the occupants were during the evacuation (http://irc.nrc-‌cnrc.gc.ca). Other reviews of behavior following the “9/11” attacks on the World Trade Center and Pentagon and the subsequent anthrax letter mailings (Glass and Schoch-Spana, 2002; Schoch-Spana, 2003) similarly discounted long-held views that terrorist attacks would cause mass panic and social disorder (WHO, 1970; DiGiovanni, 1999; Stern, 1999). On the contrary, a broad range of positive public responses were noted, including rescue work, volunteering, providing resources, and donating blood, indicating that “health and safety professionals need to reassess their assumptions about the public’s capacity to respond constructively after a terrorist attack” (SchochSpana, 2003: 132). While the concept of social attachment implies preexisting ties, the literature shows that during prolonged disasters or other crises previously unacquainted individuals can quickly forge such attachments via the development of a collective sense of identity or “we-ness” that becomes actively shared and reinforced. These emotional ties, based on a mutually shared category, for example, “survivor”, strongly guide the nature of the collective action (Tajfel, 1978; Reicher, 2000; Drury and Reicher, 2005) and can result in diverse outcomes (for example, community rebuilding and altruism, or rioting and violence) depending on the nature of the shared identity. Gender and Age Differences in Stress Responses A consistent finding in the literature is that females exhibit higher levels of distress than males in stressful situations (for example, Kessler and McLeod 1984). Taylor et al. (2000) have proposed that human females are also more prone to affiliate under stress than males, and they describe this behavioral pattern as one of “tend-andbefriend”. They suggest that the pattern has selectively evolved to maximize the survival of mother and offspring, and cite evidence that the behavior is mediated by the neurohormone oxytocin. They contend that the classic fight-or-flight response, which is mediated by the hypothalamus-pituitary-adrenocortical (HPA) system and the hormones noradrenaline and adrenaline, is more characteristic of males than of females. While females may be more prone to affiliate than males, and possibly exhibit more nurturing behavior than males under stress, evidence reviewed in the present work suggests that affiliation rather than flight is the dominant response to stress for both males and females. Viewed from the perspective of stress induced by major

248


natural disasters, a body of literature not reviewed by Taylor et al., a common pattern of affiliation versus fight or flight is observed among males and females. Against the view that males and females respond in different ways to the same type of threat – affiliation in females, fight-or-flight in males – the disaster literature suggests that males and females respond in the same overall way, but females may have a lower threshold for affiliation. Gender differences in the expression of affiliative behavior may be mediated in part by hormonal factors. Age as well as gender differences have been reported in behavioral tendencies under life-threatening conditions. Shacham and Lahad (2004) assessed 102 children ages 7 to 19 during wartime shelling and evacuation in Israel. The study was conducted when hostilities had broken out in the north of Israel and continued for 17 days. Hundreds of missiles fell on the settlements, hitting over 100 houses and injuring 54 people. The children were studied in a shelter after authorities had decided that the area would be subject to bombardment and ordered a general evacuation. Using structured individual interviews with open-ended questions, the authors found that: girls reported more stress reactions of all types (physiological, emotional, cognitive, and behavioral) than boys; physiological stress reactions were greatest among children ages 9–12 compared to both younger and older children; children evacuated without their families reported more emotional and cognitive stress reactions than those evacuated with their families; boys expressed a greater preference for moving to a safer place than girls; boys of all ages, and children under age 9 in particular, expressed a stronger desire than girls to move to live in a safer place; and children who were separated from their families during evacuation preferred to stay with their families in the event of future emergencies more than children who were evacuated with their families, even if it meant remaining in the area of bombardment. The younger the child (6–9 years), the more he or she preferred to stay with the family in a similar future emergency, and the stronger the desire to leave the home town altogether in order to move to a safer place – even though self-reported anxiety levels were higher in 9–12-year-olds. The authors interpreted the latter finding on the basis that very young children are less inhibited about reporting such preferences, but it could also indicate that the younger children were less attached to objects, neighbors and places in their home town, and thus more ready and willing to go with their parents to a safer place than older children, who by that time would have already established friends in the area and an attachment to places such as schools. Response to Nuclear Attack It is not known how the United States would respond to an unprecedented act of terrorism using biological, chemical or nuclear weapons. Could the nuclear bombings of Hiroshima and Nagasaki in 1945 provide a guideline? Some reports gave accounts of confusion, hysteria and mass flight (US Strategic Bombing Survey, 1946: 28; Avalon Project of Yale University Law School, 1996–2003, Ch. 23); however, these were not the typical behavioral responses of survivors. Both cities were evacuated


249

due to hazardous conditions resulting from radioactive substances in the immediate environment, but initial evacuations by survivors were carried out calmly and in an organized way. The unexpected calmness of disaster victims has been termed “postdisaster utopia” (Cuthbertson and Nigg, 1987: 444–462). As in most disasters, people expressed a longing for the familiarity of home and sought out other survivors. One woman stated that “she struggled to her feet and joined a band of other survivors … . Home, she had to get home ...” (Kurzman, 1986: 14, 413–414). Survivors were described as attempting to leave the city to get to the suburbs, but most people lived in the suburbs and were trying to get home. They were seeking the familiar rural or suburban communities where they lived and where the bombs’ effects were not felt. “All the people were going in that direction and so I suppose I was taken into this movement and went with them”, said one survivor, implying that many people assembled into groups and evacuated in an organized manner (Lifton, 1967: 20, 21– 40). Similar accounts of responses to the bombings were given, mentioning acts of bravery and the strong sense of companionship that developed among the survivors as they came together and returned to their homes (Wyden, 1984: 255; Barker, 1985; Linner, 1995). Many hibakushas (survivors of the atomic bomb) related their experiences on a video (Hiroshima Witness, 1990) produced by the Hiroshima Peace Cultural Center. These graphic personal descriptions of events in August 1945 show that although most survivors were terrified and in a state of shock, their overriding goal was to be reunited with familiar people and surroundings. One witness, Hiroko Fukada, stated that he “went out of the building because I thought it would be dangerous to stay inside. Soon I found soldiers walking in this direction. I was with my friends and we thought it would be safe to go with soldiers, and so we [did] … .” This account shows neither hysteria nor panic but sound decision-making and a desire for companionship. Implications for Evacuation Policy In their study of Israeli children in an evacuation shelter following shelling and bombardment, Shacham and Lahad (2004) found that children evacuated without their families expressed a clear preference to remain with their families in similar future emergencies, even if it it would mean remaining in the area under bombardment. This study recalls similar findings in World War II Britain, where evacuation programs were hampered because parents preferred to keep their children with them at home (Titmuss, 1950); and studies indicating that residents tend to remain in disaster areas but, when forced to evacuate, do so in family units (Quarantelli and Dynes, 1977). Children who were evacuated from lower Manhattan after the World Trade Center bombing in September 2001 were reportedly manifesting post-traumatic symptoms two years after the disaster (Stith Butler, 2003). However, the effects of psychological trauma can last a lifetime. This is attested to by the emergence over the past three decades of the concept and diagnosis of post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD) – the recognition that symptoms of anxiety and distress due to a wide variety

250


of traumatic experiences, including combat, violent sexual attacks, natural disasters, and internment in prisoner of war or concentration camps, can persist indefinitely and often worsen over time (Thompson et al., 2006). During the course of World War II, over one million children were compulsorily evacuated unaccompanied by the parents, and over 2500 were evacuated abroad. Most had an extended period of separation from their families. As would be expected on the social attachment model, fewer changes of accommodation, more frequent visits by parents, and the presence of siblings in the same billet were associated with more successful adjustment during the evacuation (for example, Barnett House Study Group, 1947). In a 60-year follow-up study on the psychological well-being of 169 British children who were evacuated and separated from their parents during World War II and compared with 43 persons who were children during the war but had not been evacuated served as controls, former evacuees were more likely to have an “insecure” style of attachment and reported lower levels of present psychological well-being (Foster et al., 2003). A weak but significant association was thus found between an important childhood event and individual attachment style and psychological adjustment 60 years later. This supports Bowlby’s (1973) view that attachment-related events in childhood are an important influence on adult personality and social relationships. However, as noted by Foster et al. (2003), the long-term response to early separation would also be expected to depend on, for example, the quality of care received in the temporary relocation site, the nature and quality of relationships before and since the evacuation, and other aspects of the evacuation experience. Taken together, the observations reviewed here and in the present work as a whole illustrate: 1) the strength of social attachments in terms of protection from stress and illness; 2) the power of attachments in terms of the extent and duration of efforts exerted by children and adults during and after major crises to seek out and remain with loved ones and in the familiar environment, despite it being an area of physical danger or disaster; and, 3) the adverse short- and long-term psychological and physical effects of separation from attachment figures. The major implications of this research for social policy related to the health and well-being of victims of major disaster or social dislocation are that emergency preparedness plans should explicitly take into account the need for children and families and, as far as possible, entire neighborhoods, to be kept together. When evacuation becomes necessary, children and the elderly especially should be evacuated with their families; if that is not possible, they should be kept near their families or with other attachment figures (Boothby, 1988; Ressler, 1992; UN – Machel, 1997). Conclusions Until recently, mass panic (and/or violence) was thought to be the natural response to physical danger and perceived entrapment. However, contrary to the “panic” or social breakdown model of collective behavior, the typical response to a variety of threats and disasters is not to flee or attack but affiliation; that is, to seek the


251

proximity of familiar persons and places; moreover, separation from attachment figures is a greater stressor than physical danger. Multiple social ties existing among participants in disaster situations profoundly influence behavior. Men flee with their wives, families or girlfriends, and attempt to stay together during escapes. Nor do employees abandon their responsibilities toward patrons. A high degree of civility is shown and heroic efforts are made to provide mutual aid and assistance. Such observations can be understood in terms of an alternative, “social attachment” model of behavior that recognizes the fundamentally gregarious nature of human beings and the primacy of attachments. In the relatively rare instances where flight does occur, the latter can be viewed as one aspect of a more general affiliative response that involves escaping from certain situations and moving toward other situations that are perceived as familiar but which may not necessarily be objectively safe. We have suggested that some military “panics” occurring in the apparent absence of physical threat or danger, but triggered by the sudden departure of one or more men to the rear, may in fact be affiliative responses to the perceived threat of abandonment by or separation from comrades. The occurrence of flight-and-affiliation depends mainly on the social context and, more particularly, on the whereabouts of familiar persons (that is, attachment figures); their presence has a calming effect and reduces the probability of flightand-affiliation, while their absence has the opposite effect. Combining the factors of perceived physical danger and the location of attachment figures, and categorizing them respectively as “mild/severe” (that is, anxiety versus fear or terror) and “present/absent”, results in a four-fold typology that encompasses a wide spectrum of collective responses to threat and disaster. Studies of collective behavior in disasters thus show that fear tends to be minimal and expressions of mutual aid predominate. On the negative side, however, people in groups of familiars are generally slow to react to initial warnings, slow to leave work areas, and wait to assemble with their primary group before evacuating. Thus, evacuation may be so delayed that survival is threatened. In certain situations, such as structural fires, the tendency to seek the familiar in the face of imminent physical danger can have disastrous consequences in terms of increasing the risk of severe injury or death. Ironically, because tendencies toward hysteria and mass panic on the part of the public are widely assumed, officials are often reluctant to issue warnings, or delay doing so, for fear of causing panic (Sime, 1980). Yet delays in providing correct or sufficient information can result in entrapment and death as a result of inactivity or active attachment behavior. Thus, from a public health or safety point of view, the problem in disasters is not that people tend to panic and act precipitously in response to danger, but that people typically delay or fail to take appropriate evasive action when it is needed. In recent decades there has been an explosion of research interest in human bonds and the way in which they modulate the effects of environmental stress and influence health and social behavior (Bowlby, 1969, 1973; Kiritz and Moos, 1974; Brown et al., 1975; Cobb, 1976; Kaplan et al., 1977; Henderson, 1977; Berkman et al., 2000; Beatson and Taryan, 2003). Under a variety of stressful conditions,

252


individuals approach familiar persons and places and are calmed by their presence. In sociological terms, there is an increase in “we-feeling”, solidarity and morale, but also a parallel increased sensitivity to perceived deviance and a tendency toward social exclusion, scapegoating and hate crime (Taintor, 2003). The study of responses to stress thus provides clues for understanding human bonds and behavior, the dynamics of which are more difficult to observe under non-emergency conditions. Collective social phenomena, long considered a backwater of sociology, can be seen as continuous with – and as illustrating – a broader model of human social behavior that emphasizes the primacy of attachments; not in the Durkheimian sense (Mawson, 1970), in which social relationships “restrain” an inherently selfish human nature, but in a profoundly interactionist sense in which attachments are essential for normal human growth, development, and social functioning as well as health and longevity. We have seen that close personal relationships strongly determine individual and collective responses to threat, but the policy implications of the social attachment model for public health and safety remain largely unexplored, for example, with respect to fire safety and all aspects of preparedness, including mass evacuation and counter-terrorism. It remains now to apply the social attachment model of behavior in disaster planning and management, as well as observations indicating that people generally show an unexpectedly strong capacity to organize and respond positively and unselfishly under such conditions, for example, providing valuable back-services for overworked “first-responders”. As recently emphasized (Glass and SchochSpana, 2002; Schoch-Spana, 2003; http://www.upmc-biosecurity.org/‌pages/‌events/ p‌ eoplesrole/‌ursano/‌ursano_‌trans.‌html), these findings need to be incorporated into new models of health education and promotion so that community ties and strengths can be actively harnessed by public health, emergency management and other governmental agencies to prepare for and respond more effectively to future disasters and possible terrorist attacks.

Appendix

Stimulation-Seeking and the Organization of Behavior Little attention is given in the field of psychology to the problem of behavioral classification. In the early 1900s various lists of instincts were proposed. However, with the growing enthusiasm for behaviorism, psychologists turned away from what seemed to be mainly a philosophical debate over instincts to the experimental study of learning. These studies were based on an implicit behavioral taxonomy that involved the concepts of eating and drinking and implicitly assumed the existence of “hunger” and “thirst” drives. More recently, the “black box” approach to motivation and learning in experimental psychology has given way to the study of brain (and especially neuropharmacological) mechanisms underlying motivational and emotional behavior and learning. One result of this shift in orientation is that while experimental psychologists focus on their independent variables of interest – that is, providing detailed descriptions of the parameters of stimulation, anatomical site, and so on – they tend to pay less attention to the interpretation of dependent variables, that is, observed behavior (cf. S.J. Hutt, 1970). Academic psychology has thus drifted away from the problem that most people regard as fundamental to it: namely, the explanation and classification of behavior. It is widely assumed that animal species have a behavioral repertoire – a set of drives or tendencies – that are activated by specific environmental and/or physiological mechanisms. Some behaviors, such as feeding and drinking, are assumed to be based on physiological needs or deficits (nutrients, calories, water), whereas others, such as sex, attack, flight, and nest-building, are thought to be based on evolutionary-adaptive needs such as reproduction, survival, and care of the young. Each behavioral tendency is assumed to be identifiable independently of other behaviors. Not all physiological needs have been considered to have a behavioral component. Hunger, thirst, and sex almost exhaust the range of “motivational systems” that have been studied, whereas respiration, defecation and urination have been virtually ignored (although, to be exact, defecation has been studied only as an indicator of emotionality). Many studies have also shown that sensory deprivation can cause neurophysiological deficits (Prescott, 1967), but uncertainty remains as to the status of “stimulus-seeking” in the behavioral repertoire. One also searches in vain in the literature for a discussion of problems surrounding the definition and classification of motivational–emotional behaviors. It is taken for granted that feeding and drinking

254


are separate behaviors, and the concepts of feeding and drinking are considered unproblematic. Finally, there is the problem of how to classify the “rest” of behavior, for example, “nonspecific” locomotor activity and so-called displacement activities. Are we to assume that there is a special neural substrate for both “flight” and locomotion, for gnawing and object-carrying in rats? Such problems are rarely discussed in the literature. A discussion of specific behaviors presupposes a preliminary attempt at behavioral classification in general, but this task represents a fundamental problem in psychology that has been neglected for many years. In this concluding note I will try to provide additional justification for the concept of stimulation-seeking (see also Mawson, 1987, Chapter 6). Some preliminary comments will be made on the problem of specificity versus nonspecificity (that is., directionality) in stimulation-seeking. Evidence has been presented in this work that flight is simultaneously a form of affiliative behavior, and the same conditions resulting in affilative behavior also elicit a considerable variety of other behaviors. The concept of stimulation-seeking has been proposed to account for: (1) the extensive overlap or intercorrelation of so-called “primary drives”; (2) the fact that primary drive behaviors are difficult to identify independently of each other; (3) the existence and the problem of classifying so-called displacement activities and locomotor activity, the latter of which is a component of virtually all primary drive behavior; (4) important but neglected features of supposedly separate activities such as feeding; and (5) the problem of distinguishing physiological activity from “overt behavior”. It is recalled that, according to the theory (Chapter 17), the activity of the peripheral receptors serves to increase the rate and quantity of sensory stimulation. It has been proposed that there are no separate biological substrates for feeding, drinking, aggression, affiliation, flight, or sex. Rather, all are different manifestations of stimulation-seeking – a tropism-like response defined as activity designed to enhance or facilitate contact between an organism’s sensory receptors and external objects or surfaces. I proposed that increases in sensory stimulation activate Psystem pathways in the brain, leading to S-system (SNS) inhibition and to a resultant decrease in stimulation-seeking. A second general tendency – stimulation-avoidance – which tends to be manifested during the hours of darkness, represents an overall attempt by the organism, in varying degrees, to avoid sensory stimulation though immobility, seeking quiet and dark places, and somnolence. Consider feeding and drinking. There is no denying that people can first eat a boiled egg and then drink a cup of coffee. What is being denied is that eating and drinking are separate motivational systems with unique identifying characteristics and specific causal mechanisms. Feeding is usually assumed to involve the satisfaction of a physiological need for food, and drinking the satisfaction of a need for water.

Stimulation-Seeking and the Organization of Behavior

255

These behaviors are usually measured in terms of the quantity of water or laboratory chow consumed in a given time, or in terms of the amount of time animals engage in these activities. However, there are numerous difficulties in this approach. First, most drinking occurs continuously with feeding; in addition, eating and drinking are highly correlated with a variety of other activities. Second, it is not always easy to say whether an animal is eating or drinking at any given moment. For instance, breastfeeding involves a mixture of feeding and drinking; milk is nutritious, but it consists mainly of water. Similarly, on a hot day one might begin by “eating” ice-cream and finish up by “drinking” it. Third, are calories or specific nutrients in “food” the motivational basis of eating, or are other aspects more important? People tend to eat things not for protein or other nutrient components they contain but because they enjoy the taste of the food and the activity of chewing. Experiments have supposedly shown that eating is specifically inhibited by food intake and drinking by water intake (Devor et al., 1970), but this does not necessarily mean that inhibition of intake is specific to food and water as such. It may simply mean that animals grow tired of consuming the particular substances used in the experiments (that is, laboratory chow and water). Everyday experience suggests that the thought of consuming more beef after eating a large steak may create nausea, whereas the mouth usually waters at the sight of the dessert tray. Again, this does not necessarily mean there is a specific neural substrate for the inhibition of steak and dessert. It has been demonstrated in several species that a satiated male will resume mating if presented with a new partner (Beach and Ransom, 1967), suggesting that “the female’s incentive value is in part a function of her novelty as a partner” (Finger and Mook, 1971: 9). The argument for specific neural circuitry that, of two or three possible “oral” behaviors, where one is preferred, intensive training will not lead to an equal probability of the other two types of response (Roberts, 1969), is also unconvincing, because sensory aspects of the behavior and the stimulus objects approached are seldom controlled. Certain behaviors might be preferred because they give the animal more sensory stimulation than others (Chapter 6, this volume). Thus many factors must be considered in understanding “feeding” and “drinking,” not least of which are the parameters of the substances involved (for example, taste, smell, texture, chewiness, thermal properties). Jacobs and Sharma (1969, cited in Finger and Mook, 1971) suggested that as an animal’s hunger increases, taste factors become increasingly important in determining its response to potential foods. Their view is that animals with food available eat for calories whereas hungry animals, which really need calories, eat for taste. They have shown that dogs that are fooddeprived are more reactive than controls to saccharin sweetening of their food. Jacobs and Sharma’s finding may, however, reflect a nonspecific increase in sensory sensitivity which occurs with increasing S-system activation (under which category “hunger” is included). It is doubtful whether a rigid distinction between “eating for calories” and “eating for taste” can be maintained. Taste and other sensory factors probably play an important part in feeding, regardless of the nutritional state of the animal. Studies of the behavior of rats with ventromedial hypothalamic lesions have

256


shown that the animals are not especially motivated toward food and do less well than normal animals in tests designed to measure the “urge to eat” (Donovan, 1970; Grossman, 1966). When obese, hyperphagic rats are very finicky in their choice of food, so that consumption of the routine diet falls. But when tasty meals are provided, intake rises markedly (Mayer and Thomas, 1967). Similar observations have been made on obese human subjects (Stunkard, 1968; Schachter, 1968) – all of which support the present claim that what “feeding” is really about is seeking sensory stimulation rather than nutrients or calories as such. While we have given emphasis to nonspecific sensory factors in food and water intake, there is evidence that deprivation of particular dietary substances (for example, protein, salt) can elicit specific compensatory feeding and drinking (Finger and Mook, 1971: 23–25). Even so, doubts must remain as to whether sensory aspects of the substances used in these experiments were sufficiently controlled, for example, by having a variety of “tasty” foods available to choose from. Fourth, on a specific food–water hypothesis of feeding–drinking, it is difficult to account for the fact that smoking, for instance, can substitute for food, at least temporarily, in the sense that it can relieve hunger. Similarly, it is known that increases in sexual desire can occur during attempts at weight reduction in the obese (Crisp, 1970), and secret polydipsia may occur to assuage hunger during bulimic episodes in patients with anorexia nervosa (Crisp, 1970). Fifth, inhibition of feeding (satiety) usually occurs long before significant absorption, and before the metabolites derived from food could affect neural functioning (Donovan, 1970). Although this may be partly due to the presence in the stomach of receptors sensitive to the nutritive value of the food (Mayer and Thomas, 1967), the fact that smoking can temporarily assuage hunger would be consistent with the hypothesis developed here, of S-system inhibition by nonspecific peripheral sensory feedback. Sixth, the notion that feeding behavior involves the consumption of food per se is difficult to reconcile with behavioral observations that increased visual search or orienting accompanies feeding (cf. Eibl-Eibesfeldt, 1970). As noted, people prefer to eat in company, to listen to the radio or watch TV if company is not available, or to read a newspaper while eating. In other words, there is more to the behaviors observed in “feeding situations” than the ingestion of food. It is also of interest that gastrointestinal activity is inhibited during eating in human subjects (Kohatsu, 1970), supporting the notion that eating is associated with SNS/S-system activation. Seventh, the “feeding (food) hypothesis” cannot account for the following observations related to oral activity: eating chewing-gum; licking and smacking of the lips; and the association between feeding and running (for example, Rosenquist and Hoebel, 1968);1 the fact that laboratory chow in powdered form is less attractive to rats than in chunks or pellets (Finger and Mook, 1971); the fact that predatory 1 Apparent contradictions also abound related to the hypothesis of a uniform increase in the intensity of stimulation-seeking with increased S-system arousal. For instance, progesterone increases appetite and body temperature but depresses motor activity (Rothchild, 1967).

Stimulation-Seeking and the Organization of Behavior

257

species feed on (that is, attack) moving prey (cf. Hediger, 1955); and such phenomena as nail-biting and thumb-sucking (Chapter 11). Despite these arguments against specific feeding and thirst drives or tendencies, it has been claimed that food and water consumption can be separated experimentally at a physiological and neuropharmacological level (Donovan, 1970; Grossman, 1962; Hoebel, 1971; Finger and Mook, 1971). Both food and water intake are under multiple controls but there is considerable overlap in the mechanisms involved, suggesting that the stimulation-seeking hypothesis may be operative under certain or possibly most conditions. It has been found that adrenergic substances elicit drinking when administered via the same hypothalamic cannula (Gross, 1962; Miller, 1965). This fact has been taken as strong presumptive evidence for the existence of “pharmacologically coded discrete systems that are in close proximity” (Valenstein et al., 1970, cited in Bindra and Stewart, 1971: 455). But the interpretation of these effects is controversial (Valenstein et al., 1970; Roberts, 1969; Blass and Chapman, 1971). One example of the overlap alluded to above is that drinking has occasionally been induced by the injection of noradrenaline into the lateral hypothalamus of the rat (Donovan, 1970), and adrenergic stimulation elicits dose-dependent eating which is usually accompanied by drinking (Myers and Sharpe, 1968). It has been emphasized that behavioral aspects of eating and drinking have been largely ignored in the literature on motivation.2 The observations discussed above cannot be adequately explained in terms of specific eating (food) drinking (water) motivational systems, and the concept of stimulation-seeking has been proposed as an alternative description of these (and related) activities. The discussion has centered on the most intensively researched but still mysterious “forms” of motivational activity – eating and drinking – but others, for example, sex, could have been selected for similar treatment (see Chapter 11 on Aggression). Here it is proposed that nutritional and other physiological requirements are satisfied in the course of stimulation-seeking; that the activity of eating, for instance, is more usefully understood not so much as the intake of nutrients but as stimulationseeking involving mainly the mouth (but also the eyes and nose); that sexual activity is stimulation-seeking involving, among other areas, the genital region. Human beings prefer to eat tasty foods, to drink pleasant-tasting beverages and to make love to “attractive” partners. These facts have been neglected in physiological psychology. But what determines the form of stimulation-seeking when the level of S-system arousal increases? For any given level of S-system arousal there is a corresponding level of intensity of stimulation-seeking. For example, the ravenous individual in a restaurant might select a steak – the kind of meal one can “get one’s teeth into” (cf. Moreover, amphetamine can lead to anorexia and increased motor activity, yet amphetamine lowers the concentration of noradrenaline in the brain (Morgan et al., 1972). 2 For example, in his critique of the work of Valenstein et al. (1970), Roberts (1969) makes a number of important methodological points but neglects to define his behavioral terms, for example, “positive”, “negative”, “alarm-points”.

258


the rat’s preference for solid food pellets as opposed to powdered chow) – whereas a well-fed individual might prefer fillets of sole with cream and onion sauce, or any one of the other available items on the menu. For any given level of S-system arousal the problem of prediction is not simply whether an individual will seek stimulation of an “oral” or “genital” nature, but the particular form, say, oral stimulation will take, for example, selection of lamb or pork cutlets. Such choices cannot be entirely predicted in terms of the theory proposed here, but cultural factors and social norms clearly play a role and, in particular, the degree to which the particular item is familiar (stimulation-seeking simultaneously involves congruity-seeking; that is, seeking the familiar). However, as the level of S-system arousal increases, stimulation-seeking becomes correspondingly more intense. At high levels of arousal, any form of vigorous motor activity may occur, directed either at the individual himself or at other “stimulating” objects. The main thesis of this work has been that the “flight” is not simply one of a number of possible “hard-wired” responses in an animal or human being’s behavioral repertoire, elicited by specific conditions, but that flight represents a form of intense stimulation-seeking aimed at familiar persons and places. It has been suggested that individuals build cognitive maps of their environment and attempt to maintain them by seeking stimulation from the objects represented in the maps. Threat to these maps (that is, incongruity) leads to S-system arousal and to stimulation-seeking – a response having a purely quantitative (nonspecific) aspect and, depending on the nature and degree of the threat, a more or less specific qualitative component. For example, a loud tapping noise may cause a human infant or a chick to increase its rate of feeding (nonspecific stimulation-seeking) (cf. Tolman, 1967), but also to orient toward its mother if she is available (specific component) (cf. Schaffer, 1966). Thus S-system arousal leads to a nonspecific increase in stimulation-seeking in terms of the vigor and other parameters of the response, but also to specific stimulationseeking – seeking the familiar – designed to match the organism’s cognitive map with its external representation. A qualitative (cognitive) homeostatic system is thus built upon a quantitative negative-feedback system. Nonspecific sensory stimulation can inhibit the S-system to some degree, but if qualitative sensory feedback cannot be obtained (for example, contact with mother/significant others) increased Ssystem activation may continue undiminished. On the other hand, the prolonged absence of sensory feedback to a cognitive map can result in the disintegration of the map and consequently to an increasingly nonspecific qualitative component (cf. the “promiscuous” affiliative behavior of the bereaved, and of people in disaster situations). Many areas of vagueness in the theory remain for further research. In this brief note I have only discussed stimulation-seeking, and said little about stimulationavoidance. I must therefore end here, with the hope that these speculations will stimulate further study into the complex and exasperating yet profoundly absorbing issues of emotion and motivation.

Bibliography ABRAHAMS, V.C., HILTON, S.M. and ZBROZYNA, A. (1964). J. Physiol., 171– 189. ADLER, A. (1943). Neuropsychiatric complications in victims of Boston’s Cocoanut Grove disaster. J. Amer. Med. Assoc., 123, 17, 1098–1101. ADLER, H.S. (1955). Theresienstadt 1941–1945. Tübingen: J. C. B. Mohr. ADLERSTEIN, A., and FEHRER, E. (1955). The effect of food deprivation on exploratory behavior in a complex maze. J. Comp. Physiol. Psychol. 48, 250– 253. AGUIRRE, B.E., WENGER, D., and VIGO, G. (1998). A test of the emergent norm theory of collective behavior. Sociological Forum 13(2), 301–311. AGUIRRE, B.E. (2005). Emergency evacuations, panic and social psychology. Psychiatry 68(2), 121–129. AHMAD, S.S., and HARVEY, J.A. (1958) Long-term effects of septal lesions and social experience on shock-elicited fighting in rats. J. Comp. Physiol. Psychol., 66(3), 596–606. AHRENS, R. (1954). Beitrag zur Entwicklung des Physiol nomieund Mimikerkennens. Z. Exp. Angen. Psychol., 2(3), 412–454. AINSWORTH, M.D. (1963). The development of infant-mother interaction among the Ganda. In Foss, B.M. (Ed.), Determinants of Infant Behavior, Vol. 2. London, England: Methuen. AINSWORTH, M.D. (1969). The development of infant-mother attachment. In Caldwell, B. and Riciutti, N.N. (Eds), Review of Child Development Research, Vol. 3. New York: Russell Sayaer Foundation. ALLOWAY, T., PLINER, P., and KRAMES, L. (Eds., 1977), Attachment Behavior: Advances in the Study of Communication and Affect. Vol. 3. New York: Plenum. ALLPORT, G.W., BRUNER, J.S., and JANDORF, E.M. (1962). Personality under social catastrophe. In Murray, H.A., Kluckhohn, C., and Schneider, D. (Eds), Personality in Nature, Society and Culture. New York: Alfred A. Knopf. ALTMANN, S.A., (1962). Social behavior of anthropoid primates: analysis of recent concepts. In Bliss, E.C., (Ed.), Roots of Behavior. New York: Harper and Brothers. ALTROCK, C. von (1930). Panic. Infantry Journal, 37, 116–118. AMBROSE, S.E. (2002). To America: Personal Reflections of an Historian. New York, N.Y.: Simon & Schuster. AMSEL, A., and WARD, J.S. (1954). Motivational properties of frustrations: II. Frustration drive stimulus and frustration reduction in selective learning. J. Exp. Psychol., 48, 37–47. ANAND, B.K. (1961). Nervous regulation of food. Physiol. Rev., 41, 677–208.

260


ANDERSON, C.L., BOYSEN, A.M., ESENTEN, S., LAMB, G., and SHAISH, W.R. (1954). Medical experiences in Communist P.O.W. camps in Korea: Experiences and observations of five American medical officers who were prisoners of war. J. Am. Med. Assoc., 156, 120–122. ANDREW, R.J. (1956). Some remarks on behavior in conflict situations with special references to Emberiza. Spp. Br. J. Anim. Behav., 4, 41–45. ANDREWS, L. (1920). Military Manpower. New York: Dutton. APPEL, J.W. (1968). Preventive psychiatry. In Anderson, R.S., Glass, A.F., and Bernucci, R.J. (Eds), Neuropsychiatry in World War II, Vol. I. Washington, DC: Office of the Surgeon General. APPLEY, M.H., and TRUMBULL, R. (Eds, 1967). Psychological Stress. New York: Appleton-Century-Crofts. ARCHER, J. (1971). Sex differences in emotional behavior: a reply to Gray and Buffery. Acta Psychological, 35, 415–429. ARMSTRONG, E.A. (1950). The nature and function of displacement activities. In: Society for Experimental Biology, Symposium No. 4: Physiological mechanisms of animal behavior. New York: Academic Press. ARMSTRONG-JONES, Sir R. (1917). The psychology of fear and the effects of panic fear in war time. J. Ment. Sci., 63, 346–389. ARNOTT, P. (1967). Personal communication to Dr Prescott. Cited in Appley, M.H. and Trumbull, R. (Eds), Psychological Stress. New York: Appleton-Century Crofts, 1967. ARONFREED, J. (1969). The problem of imitation. In Lipsitt, L.B., and Reese, H.W. (Eds), Advances in Child Development and Behavior, Volume 4. New York: Academic Press. ARSENIAN, J.M. (1943). Young children in an insecure situation. J. Abnorm. Soc. Psychol., 38, 225–249. ATKINSON, L., and GOLDBERG, S. (Eds, 2004). Attachment Issues in Psychopathology and Intervention. New Jersey: L. Erlbaum Associates, Inc. ATTNEAVE, F. (1959). Applications of Information Theory to Psychology. New York: Holt. AULD, S.J.M. (1918). Gas and Flame in Modern Warfare. New York: G.H. Doran. AVALON PROJECT: THE ATOMIC BOMBINGS OF HIROSHIMA AND NAGASAKI. THE AVALON PROJECT AT YALE LAW SCHOOL (1996–2003). Lillian Goldman Law Library, New Haven, 1996–2003. http://www.yale.edu/lawweb/avalon/ abombmp24.htm. (accessed 3 November 2003). AVERILL, J. (1968). Grief: its nature and significance. Psychol. Bull., 70(6), 721– 748. AX, A.F. (1953). The physiological differentiation between fear and anger in humans. Psychosom. Med., 15, 433–442. BACK, K.W., and BOGDONOFF, M.D. (1964) Plasma responses to leadership, conformity and deviation. In Leiderman, P.H., and Shapiro,D. (Eds), Psychological Approaches to Social Behavior. Stanford, California: Stanford U.P.

Bibliography

261

BAKER, G.W., and CHAPMAN, D.W. (Eds., 1962). Man and Society in Disaster. New York: Basic Books. BALDWIN, H. W. (1955). Sea Fights and Shipwrecks. New York: Doubleday. BAN, T., MASAI, H., SAKAI, A., and KUROTSU, T. (1951). Experimental studies on sleep by the electrical stimulation of the hypothalamus of rabbits. Med. J. Osaka Univ., 2, 145–161. BANCROFT, J. (1970). Disorders of sexual potency. In: Hill, O.W. (Ed.), Modern Trends in Psychosomatic Medicine. London, England: Butterworths. BANDURA, A., and ROSENTHAL, T.L. (1966). Vicarious classical conditioning as a function of arousal level. J. Pers. Soc. Psychol., 3, 54–62. BANDURA, A., and WALTERS, B.H. 1963). Social Learning and Personality Development. New York: Holt. BARKER, P. (1971). Temper tantrums. Update, May, 635–638. BARKER, R. (1985). The Hiroshima Maidens: A Story of Courage, Compassion, and Survival. New York, N.Y.: Viking. BARNETT HOUSE STUDY GROUP (1947). London Children in Wartime Oxford: a survey of social and educational results of evacuation. London, England: Oxford University Press. BARNETT. S.A. (1963). A Study in Behavior, London, England: Methuen. BASOWITZ, H., PERSKY, H., KIRCHIN, S.J., and GRINKER, R.R. (1955). Anxiety and Stress. New York: McGraw-Hill. BATES. F.L., FOGLEMAN, C.W., PARENTON. V.J., PITTMAN, R.H., and TRACEY, G.S. (1963). The Social and Psychological Consequences of a Natural Disaster: a Longitudinal Study of Hurricane Audrey. Disaster Study Number 18, Washington, DC: National Academy of Sciences, National Research Council. BATESON, P.P.G. (1966). The characteristics and context of imprinting. Biol. Rev., 41, 177–220. BEACH, F.A., and RANSOM, T.W. (1967). Effects of environmental variation on ejaculatory frequency in male rats. J. Comp. Physiol. Psychol., 64, 384–387. BEATTIE, J., and SHEEHAN, D. (1934). The effect of hypothalamic stimulation on gastric motility. J. Physiol., 81, 218–227. BEATSON, J., and TARYAN, S. (2003). Predisposition to depression: the role of attachment. Australian and New Zealand Journal of Psychiatry, 37(2), 219–225. BEECHER, H.K. (1959). Measurement of Subjective Responses. New York: Oxford University Press. BEINTEMA, D.A. (1968). A Neurological Study of Newborn Infants. Clinics in Developmental Medicine, No. 28, London, England: Heineman. BÉKÉSY, G. von. (1962). Lateral inhibition of heat sensations on the skin. J. Appl. Physiol., 17, 100–138. BÉKÉSY, G. von. (1967). Sensory Inhibition. New Jersey: Princeton University Press. BELLER, E.K. (1955). Dependence and independence in young children. J. Genetic Psychol., 87, 25–35.

262


BENNETT, A.M.H. (1961). Sensory deprivation in Aviation. In Solomon, P., Kubzansky, P.E., and Leiderman, P.H., (Eds). Sensory Deprivation. Cambridge: Harvard University Press. BERKMAN, L.F., GLASS, T., BRISSETTE, I., and SEEMAN, T.E. (2000). From social integration to health: Durkheim in the new millennium. Soc. Sci. Med., 51, 843–857. BERKOWITZ, L. (1963). Aggression. New York: McGraw-Hill. BERKOWITZ, L. (1969). Social motivation. In Lindsey, G., and Aronson, E. (Eds). The Handbook of Social Psychology (2nd edition). Reading, MA: Addison Wesley. BERKOWITZ, L. and GEEN, R.G. (1966). Film violence and the cue properties of available targets. J. Pers. Soc. Psychol., 3, 525–530. BERLYNE, D.E. (1960). Conflict, Arousal and Curiosity. New York: McGraw Hill. BERLYNE, D.E. (1967). Arousal and reinforcement. In Levine, D. (Ed.). Nebraska Symposium on Motivation. University of Nebraska Press. BERNFELD, S. (1925). The Psychology of the Infant. London, England: Kegan Paul: . BERNHAUT, M., GELLHORN, E., and RASMUSSEN, A.T. (1953). Experimental contributions to the problem of consciousness. J. Neurophysiol. 16, 21–35. BERSCHEID, E., and WALSTER, E.H. (1969). Interpersonal Attraction. Reading, MA: Addison Wesley. BEST, R.L. (1977). Reconstruction of a Tragedy: the Beverly Hills Supper Club Fire. Boston, MA: National Fire Protection Agency. BETTELHEIM, B. (1943). Individual and mass behavior in extreme situations. J. Abnorm. Soc. Psychol., 38, 417–452. BETTELHEIM, B. (1960) The Informed Heart. New York: The Free Press. BEXTON, W.A., HERON, W., and SCOTT, T.H. (1954). Effects of decreased variation in the sensory environment. Can. J. Psychol., 8, 70–76. BINDRA, D. (1959). Motivation. New York: Ronald Press. BINDRA, D. (1970). Emotion and behavior theory: current research in historical perspective. In Black, P. (Ed.). Physiological Correlates of Emotion. London, England: Academic Press. BINDRA, D., and STEWART, J. (Eds), (1971). Motivation. London, England: Penguin. BLACK, M. (Ed., 1961). The Social Theories of Talcott Parsons. Englewood Cliffs: New Jersey, Prentice-Hall. BLANCHARD, R.J., and FIAL, R.A. (1968). Effects of limbic lesions on passive avoidance and reactivity to shock. J. Comp. Physiol. Psychol., 66(3), 606–612. BLASS, E.M., and CHAPMAN, H.W. (1971). An evaluation of the contribution of cholinergic mechanism to thirst. Physiol. Behav., 7, 679–686. BLOCH, D.A., SILBER, E., and PERRY, S.E. (1956). Some factors in the emotional reaction of children to disaster. American Journal of Psychiatry, 113, 416–422.

Bibliography

263

BLOOM. P.B., FILION, R.D.L., STUNKARD, A.J., FOX, S., and STELLAR, E. (1970). Gastric and duodenal motility, food intake and hunger measured in man during a 24-hour period. Amer. J. Dig. Dis., 15(8), 719–725. BLUMER, H. (1942). Critiques of Research in the Social Sciences. New York: Social Science Research Council. BOARD, F.A., WADESON, R., and PERSKY, H. (1957). Depressive affect and endocrine functions: blood level of adrenal cortex and thyroid hormone in patients suffering from depressive affect. AMA Arch. Neurol. Psychiat., 78, 612–620. BOLIN, R. (1976). Family recovery from natural disaster: a preliminary model. Mass Emergencies 1, 267–277. BONVALLET, M. and BOBO, E.G. (1972). Changes in phrenic activity and heart rate elicited by localized stimulation of amygdala and adjacent structures. EEG. Clin. Neurophysiol., 32, 1–16. BOOTHBY, N. (1988). Unaccompanied children from a psychological perspective. In Ressler, E., Boothby, N., and Steinbock, D. (Eds), Unaccompanied Children. New York: Oxford University Press. BORING, E. (1945). Psychology for the armed forces. The Infantry Journal. Washington, DC. BORST, C., HOLLANDER, A.P., and BOUMAN, C.N. (1972). Cardiac acceleration elicited by voluntary muscle contraction of minimal duration. J. Appl. Physiol., 32(1), 70–77. BOURNE. P.G. (1970). Military psychiatry and the Vietnam experience. Amer. J. Psychiatry, 127(4), 481–488. BOVARD, E.W. (1957). The effects of social stimuli on the response to stress. Am. Psychol., 12, 410-414. BOVARD, E.W. (1959). The effects of social stimuli on the response to stress. Psychol. Rev., 66, 267–277. BOWER, G.H., and MILLER, N.W. (1958). Rewarding and punishing effects from stimulating the same place in the rat’s brain. J. Comp. Physiol. Psychol., 51, 669– 674. BOWLBY, J. (1951) Maternal Care and Mental Health. London, England: HMSO. BOWLBY, J. (1960a). Separation anxiety. Int. J. Psychiat., XLI. BOWLBY, J. (1960b). Grief and mourning in infancy and early childhood. Psychoanal. Study of the Child, XV, 9–52. BOWLBY, J. (1964). Note on Dr Lois Murphy’s paper, “Some Aspects of the First Relationship.” Int. J. Psychoanal., 45, 44–46. BOWLBY, J. (1969). Attachment and Loss, Volume 1. Attachment. London, England: Hogarth Press. BOWLBY, J. (1973). Separation, Anxiety and Anger, Volume 2: Attachment. London, England: Hogarth Press. BRADY, J.V. (1957). A comparative approach to the experimental analysis of emotional behavior. In Hoch, P.H., and Zubin, J. (Ed.), Experimental Psychopathology. New York: Grune and Stratton. BRADY, J.V. (1958a). Ulcers in “executive monkeys.” Sci. Amer., 199, 95–103.

264


BRADY, J.V. (1958b). The paleocortex and behavioral motivation. In Harlow, H.F., and Woolsey, C.N. (Eds), Biological and Biochemical Bases of Behavior. Madison: University of Wisconsin Press. BRADY, J.V. and NAUTA, S.J.H. (1953). Subcortical mechanisms in emotional behavior: affective changes following septal forebrain lesions in the albino rat. J. Comp. Physiol. Psychol., 46, 339–346. BRANDON, S. (1970). Crisis theory and possibilities of therapeutic intervention. Brit. J. Psychiat., 117, 627-633. BRINTON, C. (1952). The Anatomy of Revolution (Revised edition). New York: Prentice-Hall. BRITISH MEDICAL JOURNAL. (1971). Anorexia nervosa, 4, 183. BRONSON, W. (1968). The fear of novelty. Psychol. Bull., 69(5), 350–358. BROSIN, H.W. (1943). Panic states and their treatment. Amer. J. Psychiat., 22, 54– 61. BROWN, G.W., and COHEN, B.D. (1959). Avoidance and approach learning motivated by stimulation of identical hypothalamic loci. Amer. J. Physiol., 197, 153–157. BROWN, G.W., BHROLCHAIN, M.N., and HARRIS, J. (1975). Social class and psychiatric disturbance among women in an urban population. Sociology, 9, 225– 254. BROWN, J.S. (1961). The Motivation of Behavior. New York: McGraw-Hill. BROWN, R. (1965). Social Psychology. New York: Free Press. BROWN, R.W. (1954). Mass phenomena. In: Lindzey, G. (Ed.), Handbook of Social Psychology, Volume 2, pp. 833–876 (Edition 1). Reading, MA: Addison-Wesley. BROWNFIELD, C. (1965). Isolation: Clinical and Experimental Approaches. New York: Random House Inc. BRUNER, J.S., MATTER, J., and PAPANEK, M.L. (1955). Psychol. Rev., 62, 1– 10. BRYAN, J.L. (1985). Convergence clusters: A phenomenon of human behavior seen in selected high-rise building fires. Fire Journal, 79(6), 27–30, 86–90. BRYAN, J.L. (1986). Human behavior and fire. In: Cote, A.E. (Ed.), Fire Protection Handbook (16th edition) (pp. 17–31). Quinby, MA: National Fire Protection Association. BRYAN, J.L. (2002). A selected historical review of human behavior in fire. Fire Protection J., Fall (16), 4–10. BURLINGHAM, D., and FREUD, A. (1942). Young Children in Wartime. London, England: Allen and Unwin. BURLINGHAM, D., and FREUD, A. (1944). Infants Without Families. London, England: Allen and Unwin. BURNEY, C. (1952). Solitary Confinement. New York: Coward-McCann. BURNS, N.M., and KIMURA, D. (1963). Isolation and sensory deprivation. In: Burns, N.M., Chambers, R.M., and Hendler, E. (Eds). Unusual Environments and Human Behavior. New York: Collier-Macmillan.

Bibliography

265

BUTLER, R.A. (1953). Discrimination learning by rhesus monkeys to visualexploration motivation. J. Comp. Physiol. Psychology., 46, 95–98. BUTLER, R.A., and HARLOW, H.F. (1954). Persistence of visual exploration in monkeys. J. Comp. Physiol. Psychol., 47, 258–263. BYRD, R.E. (1938). Alone. New York: S.P. Putnam’s Sons. BYRNE, D. (1961). Interpersonal attraction as a function of affiliation need and attitude similarity. Human Relations, 14, 283–299. CAGGIULA, A.R., and HOEBEL, B.G. (1960). “Copulation – reward site” in the posterior hypothalamus. Science, 133, 1284–1285. CAIN, A.C. (1961). The super-ego “turning inward” of aggression. Psychoanal. Quart., 30, 171–208. CAIRNS, R.B. (1961). J. Pers., 29, 466–488. CAIRNS, R.B., and LEWIS, M. (1962). Dependency and the reinforcement of a verbal stimulus. J. Consult. Psychol., 26, 1–8. CALDWELL, J.M., RANSON, S.W., and SACKS, J.G. (1951). Group panic and other mass-disruptive reactions. United States Armed Forces Medical Journal, 2(4), 541–567. CAMBERARI, J.D. (1958). The Effects of Sensory Isolation on Suggestible and Nonsuggestible Psychology Graduate Students. Unpublished doctoral dissertation. University of Utah. CANNON, R.E., and SALZEN, E.A. (1971). Brain stimulation in newly-hatched chicks. Anim. Behav., 19, 378–385. CANNON, W.B. (1929). Bodily Changes in Pain, Hunger, Fear and Rage. (2nd edition). New York: Appleton Century Crofts. CANNON, W.B. (1932). The Wisdom of the Body. New York: Norton. CANNON, W.B. (1942). Voodoo death. Amer. Anthropologist, 44, 169–181. CANTRIL, H. (1943). Causes and control of riot and panic. Pub. Opin. Quart., 7, 669–679. CANTRIL, H., GAUDET, H., and HERTZOG, H. (1940). Invasion from Mars. New Jersey: Princeton U.P. CAPRA, P.C., and DITTES, J.E. (1962). Birth order as a selective factor among volunteer subjects. J. Abnorm. Soc. Psychol., 64, 302. CARLTON, P.L. (1962). Cholinergic mechanisms in the control of behavior by the brain. Psychol. Rev., 70, 19–39. CARLTON, P. (1969). Brain-acetylcholine and inhibition. In: Tapp, J.T. (Ed.), Reinforcement and Behavior. London, England: Academic Press. CARTWRIGHT, D., and ZANDER, A. (Eds,.1960). Group Dynamics: Research and Theory (2nd edition). New York: Harper and Row. CHAMPION, R.A. (1950). Studies of experimentally induced disturbance. Aust. J. Psychol., 2, 90–99. CHANCE, M.R.A. (1955). Man, 176, 1–4. CHANDESSAIS, C. (1971). Etude de la Panique sur le Terrain. Paris: Institut International de Feu.

266


CHAPMAN, W.P., SCHROEDER, H.R., GEYER, G., and BRAZIER, M.A.B. (1954). Physiological evidence concerning importance of the amygdaloid nuclear region in the integration of circulatory function and emotion in man. Science, 120, 949–950. CHOW, K.C., and RANDALL, W. (1964). Learning and retention in cats with lesions in reticular formation. Psychonom. Sci., 1, 259–260. CHOW, K.L., RIESEN, A.H., and NEWELL, F.W. (1957). Degeneration of retinal ganglion cells in infant chimpanzee in darkness. J. Comp. Neurol., 107, 27–42. CHRISTIAN, J.J. (1959). The roles of endocrine and behavioral factors in the growth of mammalian populations. In Gorbman, A. (Ed.), Comparative Endocrinology. Columbia University Symposium, Cold Spring Harbor. New York: Wiley. CIALDINI, R.B., and GOLDSTEIN, N.J. (2004). Social influence: Compliance and conformity. Annu. Rev. Psychol., 55, 591-621. CLARKE, L. (2002). Panic: myth or reality? Contexts, Fall, 21–26. COBB, S. (1976). Social support as a moderator of life stress. Psychosom. Med.,38, 300–314. COBB, S., and LINDEMANN, E. (1943). Neuro-psychiatric observations of victims of the Cocoanut Grove Fire. Ann. Surg., 117(6), 814–824. COFER, C.N. (1959). Motivation. Ann. Rev. Psychol., 10, 173–202. COFER, C.N., and APPLEY, M.H. (1964). Motivation: Theory and Research. London: Wiley. COHEN, A.R. (1959). In Hovland, C.I., and Janis, I.L. (Eds). Personality and Persuasibility. New Haven: Yale U.P. COHEN, E.H. (1933). Human Behavior in the Concentration Camp., New York: W.W. Horton. COHEN, S.I. (1967). Central nervous system functioning in altered sensory environments. In Appley, M.H. and Trumbull, R. (Eds), Psychological Stress. New York: Appleton-Century-Crofts. COHEN, W., and CADWALLADER, T.C. (1958). Cessation of visual experience under prolonged uniform visual stimulation. Amer. Psychol., 13, 410. (Abstract). COLLIAS, N.E. (1952). The development of social behavior in birds. Auk, 69, 127– 159. CONEL, J.C. (1952). Histological development of the cerebral cortex. In the Biology of Mental Health and Disease. 27th Annual Conference of the role of social experience in the production of gastric ulcers in hooded rats. Am. Psychol., 12, 410. (Abstract). CONGER, J.J., SAWREY, W.L., and TURRELL, E.S. (1957). An experimental investigation of the role of social experience in the production of gastric ulcers in hooder rats. Am Psychol., 12, 410 (Abstract). CORNWELL B., HARMON, W., MASON, M., MERZ, B., and LAMPE, M. (2001). Panic or situational constraints? Int. J. Mass Emergencies and Disasters 19, 5–25. COVIAN, M.R., ANTUNES-RODRIGUES, J., and O’FLAHERTY, J.J. (1964). Effects of stimulation of the septal area upon blood pressure and respiration in the cat. J. Neurophysiol., 27, 354–407. CRAWSHAW, R. (1963). Reactions to a disaster. Arch. Gen. Pschiat., 9, 157–162.

Bibliography

267

CRISP, A. H. (1970). Psychological aspects of some disorders of weight. In Hill, O.W. (Ed.), Modern Trends in Psychosomatic Medicine. London: Butterworths. CURIO, E. (1960). Ontogenesis und Phylogenies einiger Triebausseriengen von Fliegenschnappern. J. F. Orn., 101, 291–309. CUTHBERTSON, B. and NIGG, J. (1987). Technological disaster and the nontherapeutic community. Environment and Behavior, 19, 444–462. DARLEY, J.M., and ARONSON, E. (1966). Self-evaluation versus direct-anxiety reduction as determinants of the fear-affiliation relationship. J. Exp. Soc. Psychol. Suppl., 1, 66–79. DARROW, C.W. (1933). The functional significance of the galvanic skin reflex and perspiration on the backs and palms of the hands. Psychol. Bull., 30, 712. DARROW, C.W. (1936). The galvanic skin reflex (sweating) and blood pressure are preparatory and facilitative functions. Psychol. Bull., 33, 73–94. DARROW, C.W., and HENRY, C.E. (1949). Psychophysiology of stress. In Lindsley, D.B. et al. (Eds), Human Factors in Under-Sea Warfare. Washington, DC: Nat. Res. Council. DASBERG, H. (1976). Belonging and loneliness in relation to mental breakdown in battle. Israel Annals of Psychiatry and Related Disciplines 14, 307–321. DAVIS, R.C. (1957). Response patterns. Trans. N.Y. Acad. Sci., Ser. 11, 14, 731– 739). DAVIS, R.C. (1958). The domain of homeostasis. Psychol. Rev., 65, 8–13. DAVIS, R.C. (1959). Somatic activity under reduced stimulation. J. Comp. Physiol. Psychol., 52, 309–314. DAVITZ, J.R., and MASON, D.J. (1955). Socially facilitated reduction of a fear response in rats. J. Comp. Physiol. Psychol., 48, 149–151. DeCHARMS, R., and ROSENBAUM, M. E. (1960). J. Pers., 28, 492–502. DELGADO, J.M.R., OBERTS, W.W., and MILLER, N.E. (1954). Learning motivated by electrical stimulation of the brain. Am. J. Physiol., 179, 587–593. DELL, P. (1958). Humoral effects on the brain stem reticular formation. In Jasper, H.H. et al. (Eds), Reticular Formation of the Brain. Boston: Little, Brown. DEMBER , W.N., and EARL, R.W. (1957). Analysis of exploratory, manipulatory and curiosity behaviors. Psychol. Rev., 64, 91–96. DEMENT, W.C. (1960). The effect of dream deprivation. Science, 131, 1705, 1707. DENENBERG, V.H. (1964). Critical periods, stimulus input and emotional reactivity. Psychol. Rev., 71, 335–337. DENENBERG, V.H., and SMITH, S.A. (1963). J. Comp. Physiol. Psychol., 56, 307–312. DEVOR, M., WISE, R., MILGRAM, N.W., and HOEBEL, B.G. (1970). Physiological control of hypothalamically elicited feeding and drinking. J. Comp. Physiol. Psychol., 73, 226–232. DeVORE, I. (1963). Mother–infant relations in free-ranging baboons. In Rheingold, H.C. (Ed.), Maternal Behavior in Mammals. New York: Wiley. DeVRIES, A.C., GLASPER, E.R., and DETILLION, C.E. (2003). Social modulation of stress responses. Physiol. Behav. 79, 399–407. DeWOLFE, A. (1967). Identification and fear decrease. J. Consult. Psychiat., 31, 259–263.

268


DEWSBURY, D.A. (1967). A quantitative description for the behavior of rats during copulation. Behavior, 29, 154–178. DICKENS, C. (1898). American Notes and Pictures of Italy. Chapter VII, Philadelphia and its Solitary Prison (Gadskill edition). New York: Chas. Scriber and Sons. DIETHELM, D. (1932). Panic. Arch. Neurol. Psychat., 28, 1153–1168. DIETHELM, D. (1934). The nosological position of panic reactions. Am. J. Psychiat., 13, 1295–1316. DiGIOVANNI, C. (1999). Domestic terrorism with chemical or biological agents: psychiatric aspects. Am. J. Psychiat., 156, 1500–1505. DITTES. J.E. (1959). Attractiveness of group as function of self-esteem and acceptance by group. J. Abnorm. Soc. Psychol., 59, 77-82. DITTES, J. E., and ZEMACH, M. (1964). The effects of cognitive ambiguity on anxiety and affiliative preference. Am. Psychol., 19, 492. DOLLARD, J. (1944). Fear in Battle. New Haven: Institute of Human Relations. DOLLARD, J., DOOB, L., MILLER, N., MOWRER, D., and SEARS, R. (1939). Frustration and Aggression. New Haven: Yale University Press. DONOVAN, B.T. (1970). Mammalian Neuroendocrinology. London: McGrawHill. DRABEK, T., and BOGGS, K.S. (1968). Families in disaster: Reactions and relatives. J Marriage and the Family 30, 434–451. DRABEK, T, and KEY, W.H. (1976). The impact of disaster on primary group linkages. Mass Emergencies, 1, 89–105. DRAYER, C.S. (1957). Psychological factors and problems: emergency and longterm. Annals Amer. Acad. Polit. Soc. Sci., 309, 151–159. DRURY, J., and REICHER, S. (2005). Explaining enduring empowerment: a comparative study of collective action and psychological outcomes. Eur. J. Soc. Psychol., 35(1), 35–58. DUFFY, E. (1962). Activation and Behavior. New York: Wiley. DURKHEIM, E. (1947). The Division of Labour in Society. Translated by G. Simpson. Glencoe, Illinois: Free Press. DURKHEIM, E. (1951). Suicide. Translated by G. Simpson and J. Spaulding, London: Routledge and Kegan Paul. (Original edition 1897). DURODIÉ, B., and WESSELY, S. (2002). Resilience or panic? The public and terrorist attack. Lancet, 360, 1901–1902. EASTERBROOK. J.A. (1959). The effect of emotion on cue utilization and the organization of behavior. Psychol. Rev., 66, 183–201. EDELBERG, R. (1961). The relationship between the galvanic skin response, vasoconstriction and tactile sensitivity. J. Exp. Psychol., 62, 187–195. EDWARDS, J.G. (1976). Psychiatric aspects of civilian disasters. Br. Med. J., 1, 944–947. EIBL-EIBESFELDT, I. (1953). Zur Ethologie des Hamstegg (Cricetus cricetus L). Zelts f. Tierpsychol., 10, 204–254.

Bibliography

269

EIBL-EIBESFELDT, I. (1970). Ethology: The Biology of Behavior. New York: Holt, Rinehart and Winston. EKOLOVIA-BAGALEI, E.M. (1955). The effect of cocaine on catatonics. In: Proceedings of the All Union Theoretical-Practical Conference. Dedicated to the centenary of S.S. Korsakow, Moscow: Medgiz. ELIASSON, S., FOLKOW, B., LINGREN, P., and UVNAS, B. (1951). Acta. Physiol. Scand., 23, 333. ELIOT, A., and KING, J.A. (1955). Bereavement: inevitable but not insurmountable. In: Becker, H., and Hill R. (Eds.), Family, Marriage and Parenthood. Boston, MA: Health. ELIOT, A., and KING, J.A. (1960). Effect of early food deprivation on later consummatory behavior in puppies. Psychol. Rep., 6, 391–400. ELLIOT, A., and SCOTT, J.P. (1961). The development of emotional distress reactions to separation in puppies. J. Genet. Psychol., 99, 3–22. ENDROCZI, E., CISSAK, K., BOTTUS, B., and KOVACS, S. (1959). The inhibitory influence of archicortical structures on pituitary-adrenal function. Acta. Physiol. Acad. Sci. Hung, 16, 7–22. ENDSLEY, R.C. (1960). Dependency and Performance by Preschool Children on a Socially Reinforced Task. Unpublished M.A. Thesis. Iowa State University. EPLEY, S. (1974). Reduction of the behavioral effects of aversive stimulation by the presence of companions. Psychological Bulletin, 81, 271–283. EPSTEIN, A.N. (1971). The lateral hypothalamic syndrome: its implications for the physiological study of hunger and thirst. Progr. Physiol. Psychol., cited in Hoebel, B.G. (1971). Feeding: neural control of intake. In: Hall, V.E., Glese, A.C., and Sonnerschein, R. (Eds), Ann. Rev. Physiol., 33, 533–568. ERIKSON, E. (1950) Childhood and Society. New York: Norton. ERICKSON, K.T. (1977). Everything in its Path. New York: Simon & Schuster. ERICKSON, K.T. (1995). A New Species of Trouble: Explorations in Disaster, Trauma, and Community. New York: W.W. Norton. ERWIN, C.W. (1971). Cardiac rate response to cigarette smoking; a study utilizing radio-telemetry. Psychophysiology, 8(1), 75–81. ETLINGE, L. (1917). Psychology of War. Fort Leaverworth: Army Service School Press. EULER, C. von, and SODERBERG, U. (1958). The influence of hypothalamic thermoceptive structures on the electro-encephalogram and gamma motor activity. EEG Clin. Neurophysiol., 9, 391–408. EYSENCK, H.J. (1955). Cortical inhibition, figural aftereffect, and theory of personality. J. Abnorm. Soc. Psychol., 51, 94–106. EYSENCK, H.J. (1967). The Biological Basis of Personality. Springfield, Illinois: Charles C. Thomas. FABRICIUS, E. (1951). Zur Ethologie junger Anatiden. Acta. Zool. Fenn., 69, 1– 178. FALK, J.L. (1961a). The behavioral regulation of water-electrolyte balance. In: Jones M.R. (Ed.), Nebraska Symposium on Motivation. Lincoln. University of Rochester Press.

270


FALK, J.L. (1961b). Prediction of polydipsia in normal rats by intermittent food schedule. Science, 133, 195–196. FELDMAN, S., and WALLER, H. (1962). Dissociation of electro-cortical activation and behavioral arousal. Nature, 196, 1320–1322. FEINBERG, W.E., and JOHNSON, N.R. (2001). The ties that bind: a macro-level approach to panic. Int. J. Mass Emergencies and Disasters, 91(3), 269–295. FENDLER, K., KARMOS, G., and TELEGDY, G. (1961). The effect of hippocampal lesions on pituitary-adrenal function. Acta Physiol. Acad. Sci . Hung., 20, 296– 297. FENTRESS, J.C. (1965). Aspects of Arousal and Control in the Behavior of Voles. PhD thesis. Cambridge, England. FERGUSON, P.E. (1961). The Influence of Isolation Anxiety and Dependency on Reinforcer Effectiveness. Unpublished MA thesis. University of Toronto. FERNANDEZ de MOLINA, A., and HUNSPERGER, R.W. (1959). Central representation of affective relations in forebrain and brain stem: electrical stimulation of amygdala, stria terminalis, and adjacent structures. J. Physiol., 145, 251–265. FESTINGER, L. (1954). A theory of social comparison processes. Human Relations, 7, 117–140. FESTINGER, L. (1957). A Theory of Cognitive Dissonance. New York: Row Peterson. FILLIS, J. (1902). Breaking and Riding. London: Hurst and Blackett. FINGER, F.W. (1962). Activity change under deprivation as a function of age. J. Comp. Physiol. Psychol., 55, 100–102. FINGER, F.W., and MOOK, D.G. (1971). Basic drives. In: Mussen, P.H., and Rosenzweig, M.R. (Eds), Ann. Rev. Psychol., 22, 1–38. FISHER, A.E. (1955). The Effects of Early Differential Treatment on the Social and Exploratory Behavior of Puppies. Unpublished doctoral dissertation. Pennsylvania State University. FISHER, A.E., and COURY, J.N. (1962). Cholinergic tracing a central neural circuit underlying the thirst drive. Science, 138, 691–693. FITZPATRICK, C., and MILETI, D.S. (1991). Motivating public evacuation. Int. J. Mass Emergencies and Disasters, 9, 137–152. FLANDERS, J.P. (1968). A review of research on imitative behavior. Psychol. Bull., 69(5), 316–337. FOLKOW, B., MELLANDER, S., and OBERG, B. (1961). Acta Physiol. Scand., 53, 7–22. FOREMAN, P. (1953). Panic theory. Sociol. Soc. Res., 37, 295–304. FORM, W.H., and NOSOW, Sr. (1958). Community in Disaster. New York: Harper and Bros. FOSTER, D., DAVIES, S., and STEELE, H. (2003). The evacuation of British children during World War II: a preliminary investigation into the long-term psychological effects, Aging & Mental Health, 7, 398–408.

Bibliography

271

FRANKENHAEUSER, M. (1971). Experimental approaches to the study of human behavior as related to neuroendocrine functions. In Levi, L. (Ed.), Society, Stress and Disease. London: Oxford University Press. FRANKENHAEUSER, M., MYRSTEN, A.L., and PORT, B. (1970). Psychophysiological reactions to cigarette smoking. Scand. J. Psychol., 11, 237–245. FRANKL, V.E. (1961). Psychologie and psychiatrie des Korzentration-slagers. Psychiatrie der Genewart, (Berlin), Bd. 3, 743. FREEMAN, C.D., and COOPER, D. (1940). The Road to Bordeaux. New York: Cresset Press. FREEDMAN, D.G. (1961). The infant’s fear of strangers and the flight response. J. Child. Psychol. Psychiat., 242–248. FRENCH, J.D., VERZEARO, M., and MAGOUN, N.W. (1953). An extralemniscal sensory system in the brain. A.M.A. Arch. Neurol. Psychiat., 69, 505. FRENCH, J.R.P. Jr. (1941). Experimental study of group panic. J. Elisha Mitchell Scientific Society, 57, 195–196. FREUD, D., and BURLINGHAM, D. (1945). War and Children. New York: Medical War Books. FREUD, S. (1922). Group Psychology and the Analysis of the Ego. Standard Edition. Vol. XVIII, London: Hogarth Press. FRIED, M. (1963). Grieving for a lost home. In: Duhl, L. (Ed.), The Urban Condition. New York: Basic Books. FRITZ, C.E., and MARKS, E.S. (1954). The NORC studies of human behavior in disaster. J. Soc. Issues, 10, 12–25. FRITZ, C.E., and WILLIAMS, H.B. (1957). The human being in disaster: a research perspective. Ann. Am. Acad. Polit. Soc. Sci., 309, 42–51. FROMM, E. (1941). Escape from Freedom. New York: Rinehart. FROMM, E. (1955). The Sane Society. New York: Rinehart. FUNKENSTEIN, D.H., KING, S.H., and DROLETTE, M.E. (1957). Mastery of Stress. Cambridge: Harvard University Press. FULLER, J.L., and CLARK, D. (1966a). Genetic and treatment factors modifying the post isolation syndrome in dogs. J. Comp. Physiol. Psychol., 61(2), 251–257. FULLER, J.L., and CLARK, D. (1966b). Effects of rearing with specific stimuli upon postisolation behavior in dogs. J. Comp. Physiol. Psychol., 61(2), 258–263. FUSTER, J.M. (1958). Effects of stimulation of brain stem on tachistoscopic perception. Science,127, 150. GADDIS, T.E. (1958). Birdman of Alcatraz: The Story of Robert Stroud. New York: Signet Books. GALLUP, G.G., Jr., NASH, R.F., POTTER, R.J., and DONEGAN, N.H. (1970). Effect of varying conditions of fear on immobility reactions in domestic chickens. (Gallus Gallus). J. Comp. Physiol. Psychol., 73(3), 442–445. GANTT, W.H., NEWTON, J.E.O., ROYER, F.L., and STEPHENS, J.H. (1966). Effect of person. Conditioned Reflex, 1, 18–35. GASTAUT, H., and ROGER, A. (1960). Les mechanisms de l’activite nerveuse superieure au niveau des grandes structures functionalles du cerveau. In: Jasper, H.H., and Smirnov, G.D. (Eds), Moscow Colloquium on Electroencephalography of Higher Nervous Activities. EEG Clin. Neurophysiol., Suppl. 13.

272


GASTAUT, H., VIGOUROUX, R., CORRIOL, J., and BADLER, M. (1957). J. Physiol. Pathol. Gen., 43, 740. GEER, J.H. (1964). Measurements of the conditioned cardiac response. J. Comp. Physiol. Psychol., 57, 426–433. GELFAND, D.M. (1962). The influence of self-esteem on rate of verbal conditioning and social matching behavior. J. Abnorm. Soc. Psychol., 65, 259–265. GELLHORN, E. (1954). Physiological processes related to consciousness and perception. Brain, 77, 401–415. GELLHORN, E. (1957). Autonomic Imbalance and the Hypothalamus. Minneapolis: University of Minneapolis Press. GELLHORN, E. (1967) Principles of Autonomic-Somatic Integrations. Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press. GELLHORN, E. (Ed., 1968). Biological Foundations of Emotion: Research and Commentary. Scott, Foresman and Co. GELLHORN, E. (1964). Motion and emotion: the role of proprioception in the physiology and pathology of the emotions. New York: Psychol. Rev., 71, 457– 472. GELLHORN, E.W.P., and BALLIN, H.M. (1954). Interaction on cerebral cortex of acoustic or optic stimuli with nocioceptive impulses: the problem of consciousness. J. Neurophysiol., 17, 14–21. GELLHORN, E., and LOUFBOURROW, G.N. (1963). Emotions and Emotional Disorders. New York: Hoeber. GEORGE, A.L. (1971). Primary groups, organization and military performance. In: Little, R.W., and Janowitz, M. (Eds), Handbook of Military Institutions. Beverley Hills, CA: Sage. GERARD, H.B. (1963). Emotional uncertainty and social comparison. J. Abnorm. Soc. Psychol., 666, 568–593. GERARD, H.B., and RABBIE, J.M. (1961). Fear and social comparison. J. Abnorm. Soc. Psychol., 62, 586–592. GERGEN, K.J., and BAUER, R.A. (1967). Interactive effects of self-esteem and task difficulty on social conformity. J. Person. Soc. Psychol., 6, 16–22. GERMANA, J. (1968). The psychophysiological correlates of conditioned response formation. Psychol. Bull., 20, 105–114. GEWIRTZ, J.L., and BAER, D.M. (1958a). The effect of brief social deprivation on behaviors for a social reinforcer. J. Abnorm. Soc. Psychol., 56, 49–56. GEWIRTZ, J.L., and BAER, D.M. (1958b). Deprivation and satiation of social reinforcers as drive conditions. J. Abnorm Soc. Psychol., 57, 165–172. GEWIRTZ, J.L., and STINGLE, K.G. (1968). Learning of generalized imitation as the basis for identification. Psychol. Rev., 75, 374–397. GIBSON, J.J. (1966). The Senses Considered as Perceptual Systems. London: George Allen and Unwin. GLASER, D. (2000). Child abuse and neglect and the brain – a review. J. Child Psychol. Psychiat., 41(1), 97–116.

Bibliography

273

GLASS, A.J. (1953). Problems of stress in the combat zone. Symposium on Stress. Washington: National Research Council and Walter Reed Army Medical Center, 467. GLASS, A.J. (1954a). Psychotherapy in the combat zone. Amer. J. Psychiat., 110. GLASS, A.J. (1954b). Observations upon the epidemiology of mental illness in troops during warfare (pp. 185–197). In: Symposium on Preventive and Social Psychiatry. Washington, DC: Walter Reed Army Institute of Research. GLASS, T.A., and SCHOCH-SPANA, M. (2002). Bioterrorism and the people: How to vaccinate a city against panic. Clin. Infect. Dis., 34, 217–223. GLICKMAN, S.E., and FELDMAN, S.M. (1961). Habituation of the arousal response to direct stimulation of the brainstem. EEG Clin. Neurophysiol., 13, 703–709. GLICKMAN, S.E., and SCHIFF, B.B. (1967). A biological theory of reinforcement. Psychol. Rev., 74, 81–90. GLICKMAN, S.E., SROGES, R.W., and HUNT, S. (1964). Brain lesions and locomotor exploration in the albino rat. J. Comp. Physiol. Psychol., 58, 93–100. GLOVER, E. (1942). Notes on the psychological effects of war conditions on the civilian population: Part III; The Blitz. Int. J. Psychoanal., 23, 17–37. GOFFMAN, E. (1959). The Presentation of Self in Everyday Life. New York: Doubleday. GOLDBERGER, L., and HOLT, R.R. (1958). Experimental interference with reality contact (perceptual isolation): Method and group results. J. Nerv. Ment. Dis., 127, 99–112. GORDON, B.F. (1966). Influence and social comparison as motives for affiliation. J. Exp. Soc. Psychol., Supp., 1, 55–65. GOTTLIEB, G. (1963). A naturalistic study of imprinting in Wood ducklings (Aix Sponsa). J. Comp. Physiol. Psychol., 56, 86–91. GOTTLIEB, G. (1965). Imprinting in relation to parental and species identification by avian neonates. J. Comp. Physiol. Psychol., 59, 345–356. GRAHAM, F.D., and CLIFTON, R.K. (1966). Heart-rate change as a component of the orienting response. Psychol. Bull., 65, 305–320. GRAHAM, F.F., and JACKSON, J.C. (1970). Arousal systems and infant heart rate. In Reese, H.W. and Lipsitt, L.B. (Eds), Advances in Child Development and Behavior. Vol. 5. Academic Press: London. GRAHAM, M. (1964). Crowds and the like in vertebrates. Human Relations, 17, 377–390. GRANT, E.C., and MACKINTOSH, J.H. (1963). A comparison of the social postures of some common laboratory rodents. Behavior, 21, 246–259. GRASTYAN, E. (1968). Impact of Science on Society. (UNESCO), XVIII, 3, 187– 205. GRASTYAN, E., KARMOS, G., VERECZKEY, L., MARTIN, J., and KELLENY, L. (1965). Hypothalamic motivational processes as reflected by their hippocampal correlates. Science, 149, 91–93. GRAY, J.A. (1971). The Psychology of Fear and Stress. London: Weidenfeld & Nicholson.

274


GRINKER, R.R. (1966). The psychosomatic aspects of anxiety. In Spielberger, C.D. (Ed.), Anxiety and Behavior. Academic Press: London. GRINKER, R., and SPIEGEL, J. (1945a). War Neuroses. Philadelphia: Blakiston. GRINKER, R., and SPIEGEL, J. (1945b). Men under Stress. Philadelphia: Blakiston. GROSSMAN, K.E., GROSSMAN, K., and WATERS, E. (Eds, 2005). Attachment from Infancy to Adulthood: The Major Longitudinal Studies. New York: Guilford Press. GROSSMAN, S.P. (1962). Direct adrenergic and cholinergic stimulation of hypothalamic mechanisms. Amer. J. Physiol., 202, 872–882. GROSSMAN, S.P. (1966). The VMH: A center for affective reactions, satiety, or both? Physiol. Behav., 1, 1–9. GROSSMAN, S.P. (1967). A Textbook of Physiological Psychology. New York: Wiley and Sons. GROSSMAN, S.P. (1968). The physiological basis of specific and non-specific motivational processes. In: Arnold, W.J. (Ed.), Nebraska Symposium on Motivation. Lincoln: University of Nebraska Press. GROSSMAN, S.P. (1970) Intracranial administration of chemicals. In: Black, P. (Ed.), Physiological Correlates of Emotion. Academic Press: London. GROUP FOR THE ADVANCEMENT OF PSYCHIATRY. (1957). Methods of Forceful Indoctrination: Observations and Interviews. GAP Symposium No. 4. New York: GAP Publishing Company. GUNNAR, M.R. (1998). Quality of early care and buffering of neuroendocrine stress reactions: potential effects on the developing human brain. Prev. Med., 27(2), 208–211. GUPTA, M.A., and GUPTA, A.K. (2004). Stressful major life events are associated with a higher frequency of cutaneous sensory symptoms: an empirical study of non-clinical subjects. J. Eur. Acad. Dermatol. Venereol., 18, 560–565. HAGGARD, E.A. (1943). Experimental studies in affective processes: Some effects of cognitive structuring and active participation in certain autonomic reactions during and following experimentally induced stress. J. Exp. Psychol., 33, 257–284. HALL, J.F. (1956). The relationship between external stimulation, food deprivation and activity. J. Comp. Physiol. Psychol., 49, 339–341. HALL, J.F. (1961). Psychology of Motivation. Philadelphia: J.B. Lippincott. HAMMOND, N.G.L., and SCULLARD, H.H. (Eds, 1970). The Oxford Classical Dictionary. (2nd edition). Oxford: Clarendon. (see Rose, H.J. and Robertson, C.M. “Pan”, p. 973). HANER, C.F., and BROWN, P.A. (1955). Clarification of the instigation-to-action concept in the frustration-aggression hypothesis. J. Abnorm. Soc. Psychol., 51, 204–206. HARE, R.D. (1970). Psychopathy: Theory and Research. New York: John Wiley and Sons. HARLOW, H. (1960). Affectional behavior in the infant money. In: Brazier, N.A.B. (Ed.), The Central Nervous System and Behavior. New York: J. Macy Jnr. Foundation.

Bibliography

275

HARLOW, H.F., and HARLOW, M.K. (1962). Social deprivation in monkeys. Sci. Amer., 207, 137–146. HARLOW, H.F., and HARLOW, M.K. (1965). The affectional systems. In Schrier, A.M., Harlow, H.F., and Stolinitz, F. (Eds), Behavior in Non-human Primates, Volume 2. New York: Academic Press. HARLOW, H.F. and HARLOW, M.K. (1966). Learning to love. Am. Sci., 54, 244–272. HARLOW, H.F., HARLOW, M.K., and HANSEN, E.W. (1963). The maternal affectional system of rhesus monkeys. In: Rheingold, H.L. (Ed.), Maternal Behavior in Mammals. New York: Wiley. HARLOW, H.F., and ZIMMERMAN, R.R. (1959). Affectional responses in the infant monkey. Science, 130, 421. HARPER, R.P. (1971). Frequency changes in hippocampal electrical activity during movement and tonic immobility. Physiol. Behav., 7, 55–58. HARTLINE, H.K. (1949). Inhibition of activity of visual receptors by illuminating nearby retinal areas in the limulus eye. Fed. Proc., 8, 69. HARTLINE, H.F., WAGNER, H.G., and RATLIFF, F. (1956). Inhibition of the eye of limulus. J. Gen. Physiol., 39, 651–673. HARTMANN, D.P. (1966). The influence of symbolically modeled instrumental aggression and pain cues on the disinhibition of aggressive behavior. Dissertation Abstracts, 26, 4088. HARTUP, W.W. (1963). In: Child Psychology. 62nd Yearbook of the National Society for the Study of Education. Part I, pp. 333–367. Chicago: The National Society for the Study of Education. HARVEY, J.A., and HUNT, H.F. (1965). Effect of septal lesions on thirst in the rat as indicated by water consumption and operant responding for water reward. J. Comp. Physiol. Psychol., 59, 45–56. HARVEY. D.H., and RUTHERFORD, H. (1960). Status in the informal group: influence and influencibility at differing age levels. Child Devel., 31, 377–385. HARVEY, D.J., and SCHRODER, H. (1963). Cognitive aspects of self and motivation. In: Harvey, D.J. (Ed.), Motivation and Social Interaction: Cognitive Determinants. New York: Ronald Press. HARWOOD, D., and VOWLES, D.M. (1967). Defensive behavior and the after effects of brain stimulation in the ring dove (Streptopelia visoria). Neuropsychologia, 5, 345–366. HATTON, H.M. (1969). Developmental Change in Infant Heart Rate Response During Sleeping and Waking States. Unpublished doctoral dissertation. University of Wisconsin. HAYWORD, H.C. (1962). Novelty-seeking as a function of manifest anxiety and physiological arousal. J. Pers., 30, 63–74. HEAD, H. (1926). Aphasia. : Cambridge, England: Cambridge University Press. HEATH, R.G., MONROE, R.P., and MICKLE, W.A., (1955). Stimulation of the amygdaloid nucleus in a schizophrenic patient. Amer. J. Psychiat., 3, 862–863. HEBART, J.F., (1816). Textbook on Psychology. Translated by Smith, M.K. (1891). New York: Appleton Century Croft.

276


HEBB, D.O. (1946). On the nature of fear. Psychol. Rev., 53, 259–276. HEBB. D.O. (1955). Drives and the C.N.S. (conceptual nervous system). Psychol. Rev., 62, 243–254. HEDIGER, H. (1955). The Psychology and Behavior of Animals in Zoos and Circuses. New York: Dover. HEIDER, F. (1958). The Psychology of Interpersonal Relations. New York: Wiley. HEINICKE, C.M. (1956). Some effects of separating two-year-old children from their parents. A comparative study. Human Relations, IX. HELMREICH, R.L., and COLLINS, B.E. (1967). Situational determinants of affiliative preference under stress. J. Pers. Soc. Psychol., 6(1), 79–85. HELSON, H. (1964). Adaptation Level Theory. New York: Harper and Row. HELTZER, M. (1956). Solitary confinement. In: Group for the Advancement of Psychiatry, Factors Used to Increase the Susceptibility of Individuals to Forceful Indoctrination: Observations and Experiments. New York: GAP Publications, GAP Symposium, No. 3. HEMINGWAY, A., RASMUSSEN, T., WIKOFF, H., and RASMUSSEN, A.T. (1940). Effects of heating hypothalamus of dogs by diathermy. J. Neurophysiol., 3, 329–338. HENDERSON, S. (1977). The social network, support and neurosis: the function of attachment in adult life. Br. J. Psychiat., 131, 185–191. HENRY, J.P. (1993). Psychological and physiological responses to stress: the right hemisphere and the hypothalamo-pituitary-adrenal axis, an inquiry into problems of human bonding. Integ. Physiol. Behav. Sci., 28, 369–387. HERBERG, L.J. (1963a). Determinants of extinction in electrical self-stimulation. J. Comp. Physiol. Psychol., 56, 686–690. HERBERG, L.J. (1963b). Seminal ejaculation following positively reinforcing stimulation of the rat hypothalamus. J. Comp. Physiol. Psychol., 56, 679–685. HERON, W., DOANE, B.K., and SCOTT, T.H. (1956). Visual disturbance after prolonged perceptual isolation. Can. J. Psychol., 10, 13–18. HESS, E. H. (1957). Effects of meprobromate on imprinting in waterfowl. Annals N.Y. Acad. Sci., 67, 724-732. HESS, E.H. (1959). The relationship between imprinting and motivation. In: Jones, M.R. (Ed.), Nebraska Symposium on Motivation. Lincoln: University of Nebraska Press. HESS, E.H. (1964). Imprinting in birds. Science, 146, 1128–1139. HESS, E.H., and POLT, J.M. (1960). Pupil size as related to interest value of visual stimuli. Science, 132, 349–350. HESS, E.H., and POLT, J.M. (1966). Changes in pupil size as a measure of taste difference. Percept. Mot. Skills, 23, 451–435. HESS, W.R. (1936). Hypothalamus und die zentren des autonomen. Nervensystems: physiologie. Arch. F. Psychiatrie, 104, 548. HESS, W.R. (1944). Das Schlafsyndrom als Folge dienzephaler Reizung. Helvet. Physiol. Et pharmacol. Acta, 2, 305–344. HESS, W.R. (1954). Diencephalon: Anatomical and Extrapyramidal Functions. New York: Grune.

Bibliography

277

HETHERINGTON, E.M.A. (1965). A developmental study of the effects of sex of the dominant parent on sex-role performance identification and imitation in children. J. Pers. Soc. Psychol., 2, 188–194. HETZER, H., and TUDOR-HART, B.H. (1927). Quellen und Studien, 5, 103–124. HILL, R., and HANSEN, D.A. (1962). In Baker, G.W., and Chapman, D.W. (Eds), Man and Society in Disaster. New York: Basic Books. HILTON, S.M. (1965). Hypothalamic control of the cardiovascular responses in fear and rage. In: The Scientific Basis of Medicine Annual Reviews. HILTON, S.M., and ZBROZYNA, A.W. (1963). J. Physiol., 165, 160. HINDE, R.A. (1960). Energy models of motivation. Sym. Soc. Exp. Biol., 14, 199– 213. HINDE, R.A. (1962). The relevance of animal studies to human neurotic disorders. In: Richter, J.M., Tanner, J.M., Lord Taylor and Zangwill, O.L. (Eds), Aspects of Psychiatric Research. London: Oxford University Press. HINDE, R.A. (1966). Animal Behavior: A Synthesis of Ethology and Comparative Psychology. London: McGraw-Hill. HINDE, R.A., ROWELL, T.E., and SPENCER-BOOTH, Y. (1964). Behavior of socially living rhesus monkeys in their first two-and-a-half years. Anim. Behav., 15, 169–196. HINDE, R.A., THORPE, W.H., and VINCE, M.A. (1956). The following response of young coots and moorhens. Behaviour, 9: 214–242. HIROSHIMA WITNESS (1990). The Voice of Hibakusha. Hiroshima Peace Cultural Center. (http://www.inicom.com/hibakusha/.accessed 28 October 2003). HOBBES, T. (1928). The Leviathan. London: J. M. Dent & Sons. HOCKING, W.E. (1943). Fear. In: Greene, J.I. (Ed.), Infantry Journal Reader, p. 265. HODOS, W. (1965). Motivational properties of long durations of rewarding brain stimulation. J. Comp. Physiol. Psychol., 59, 219–224. HOEBEL, B.G. (1971). Feeding: neural control of intake. In: Hall, V.E., Glese, A.C., Sonnenschein, R. (Eds), Ann. Rev. Physiol., 33, 533–568. HOEBEL, B.G., and TEITELBAUM, P. (1962). Hypothalamic control of feeding and self-stimulation. Science, 135, 375–377. HOFFMAN, M.L. (1957). Conformity as a defense mechanism and a form of resistance to genuine group influence. J. Pers., 25, 412–424. HOKANSON, J.E. (1969). The Physiological Bases of Motivation. Wiley & Sons. HOKANSON, J.E., and SHETLER, S. (1961). The effect of overt aggression on physiological arousal level. J. Abnorm. Soc. Psychol. 63, 446–448. HOLDER, W.B. (1958). Value conformity in normal and non-normal groups. J. Soc. Psychol., 48, 147–154. HOLST, E. von, and SAINT PAUL, U. von. (1963). On the functional organization of drives. Anim. Behav., 11, 1–20. HOOVER, J.E. (1966). Crime in the United States. Uniform Crime Reports. Washington, DC: US Department of Justice. HUBER, D., VEINANTE, P., and STOOP, R. (2005). Vasopressin and oxytocin excite distinct neuronal populations in the central amygdala. Science, 308, 245–248.

278


HUDSON, B.B. (1954). Anxiety in response to the unfamiliar. J. Soc. Issues, 9–10, 53–60. HUNSPERGER, R.W. (1956). Affektreaktionen auf electrische Reizung im Hirnstamm der Katze. Helv. Physiol. Pharmacol. Acta, 14, 70–92. HUNSPERGER, R.W., and FERNANDEZ de MOLINA, A. (1962). Organization of subcortical system governing defense and flight reactions in the cat. J. Physiol., 160, 200–213. HUNT, J. McV. (1963). Motivation inherent in information processing and action. In: Harvey, D.T. (Ed.), Motivation and Social Interaction: Cognitive Determinants. New York: The Ronald Press Company. HUTCHINSON, R., ULRICH, R.E., and AZRIN, H.H. (1965). Effects of age and related factors on reflexive aggression. J. Comp. Physiol. Psychol., 59, 365–369. HUTT, C. (1970). Specific and diversive exploration. In: Reese, H.W., and Lipsitt, C.P. (Eds), Advances in Child Development and Behavior. Volume 5. London: Academic Press. HUTT, S.J. (1970). The role of behavior studies in psychiatry. An ethological viewpoint. In: Hutt, S.J. and Hutt, C. (Eds) Behavior Studies in Psychiatry. Oxford: Pergamon Press. HUTT, S.T., and HUTT, C. (Eds, 1970). Behavior Studies in Psychiatry. Oxford: Pergamon Press. HUTT, S.J., HUTT, C., LEE, D., and OUNSTED, C. (1964). Arousal and childhood autism. Nature, 204, 908–909. HUTT, S.J., LENARD, H.G., and PRECHTL, H.F.R. (1969). Psychophysiology of the newborn. In: Lippsitt, L.P. and Reese, H.W. (Eds), Advances in Child Development and Behavior. London: Academic Press. HYAMS, K.C., MUPHY, F.M., and WESSELY, S. (2002). Responding to chemical, biological, or nuclear terrorism: The indirect and long-term health effects may present the greatest challenge. J. Health Politics, Policy & Law 27(2), 273–286. IERSEL, J.J.A. von, and BOL, A.C. Angela. (1958). Preening in two tern species: A study of displacement activities. Behavior, 13, 1–88. INGRAM, W.R., BARRIS, R.W., and RANSON, S.W. (1936). Catalepsy in experimental study. Arch. Neurol. Psychiat., 35, 117–119. INKELES, A. (1959). Personality and social structure. In: Merton, R., Broom, L., and Cottrell, L. (Eds), Sociology Today. Volume II. New York: Harper and Row. INSEL, T.R. (1997). A neurobiological basis of social attachment. Am. J. Psychiat. 154, 726–635. IRWIN, D.C. (1932). The distribution of the amount of mobility in young infants between two nursing periods. J. Comp. Physiol. Psychol., 14, 429–445. ISSACSON, R.L., and PRIBRAM, K.H. (1975). The Hippocampus. New York: Plenum Press. JACKSON, F. (1968). Effects of Hippocampal Lesions on Self-Stimulation in the Rat. Unpublished doctoral thesis. Rutgers University. JACOBS, H.C., and SHARMA, K.N. (1969). Taste versus calories: sensory and metabolic signals in the control of food intake. Ann. N.Y. Acad. Sci., 157, 1084–1125.

Bibliography

279

JACOBS, S, and OSTFELD, A. (1977). An epidemiological review of the mortality of bereavement. Psychosom. Med., 39, 344–357. JAMES, H. (1959). Flicker: an unconditioned stimulus for imprinting. Can. J. Psychol., 13, 59–67. JANIS, I.L. (1951). Air War and Emotional Distress. New York: McGraw-Hill. JANIS, I.L. (1954). Personality correlates of susceptibility to persuasion. J. Pers., 22, 504–518. JANIS, I.L. (1963). Group Identification under conditions of external danger. Brit. J. Med. Psychol., 36, 227–238. JANIS, I.L. (1971). Stress and Frustration. New York: Harcourt, Brace and Jovanovich. JANIS, I.L., CHAPMAN, D.W., GILLIN, J.P, and SPIEGEL, J. (1955). The Problem of Panic. Washington, DC: Federal Civil Defense Administration, Bulletin TB19-1. JANIS, I.L., and LEVENTHAL, H. (1968). Human reactions to stress. In: Borgatta, E.F., and Lambert, W.W. (Eds), Handbook of Personality Theory and Research. Chicago: Rand McNally. JOHANSSON, B.B. (1993). Has sensory stimulation a role in stroke rehabilitation? Scand. J. Rehab. Med., Suppl. 29, 87–96. JOHNSON, N.R. (1987). Panic and the breakdown of social order: popular myth, social theory, empirical evidence. Sociol. Focus, 20, 171–183. JOHNSON, N.R. (1988). Fire in a crowded theater: A descriptive analysis of the emergence of panic. Int. J. of Mass Emergencies and Disasters 6, 7–26. JOUVET, M. (1961). Telencephalic and rhombencephalic sleep in cats. In: Wolstenholme, G.E.W., and O’Connor, M. (Eds), The Nature of Sleep. Ciba Foundation Symposium. London: Churchill. JOUVET, M. (1965). Paradoxical sleep – a study of its nature and mechanisms. In: Akert, K., Bally, C., and Schade, J.P. (Eds), Sleep Mechanisms, Volume 18. Amsterdam: Elsevier. KAADA, B.R. (1951). Somato-motor autonomic and electrographic responses to electrical stimulation of “rhinencephalic” and other forebrain structures in primate, cat and dog. Acta physiol. Scand. Suppl., 24, 1–285. KAMARCK, T.W., ANNUNZIATO, B., and AMATEAU, L.M. (1995). Affiliation moderates the effects of social threat on stress-related cardiovascular responses: boundary conditions for a laboratory model of social support. Psychosom. Med., 57, 183–194. KAMARCK, T.W., SCHWARTZ, J.E., SHIFFMAN, S., MULDOON, M.F., SUTTON-TYRRELL, K., JANICKI, D.L. (2005). Psychosocial stress and cardiovascular risk: what is the role of daily experience. J. Pers. 73, 1749–1774. KAPLAN, B.H., CASSEL, J.C., and GORE, S. (1977). Social support and health. Medical Care, 15, 47–58. KARDINER, A., and SPIEGEL,, J. (1947). War Stress and Neurotic Illness. New York: P.B. Hoeber. KARLI, P. (1956). The Norway rat’s killing response to the white mouse: An experimental analysis. Behaviour, 10, 81–103.

280


KARTMAN, B., and BROWN, L. (Eds, 1948). Disaster! New York: Pellegrini and Cudahy. KATZ, C.J. (1950). Experiences in a prison camp as a background for therapy. Ment. Hygiene, 34, 90–96. KAUFMAN, I.C., and ROSENBLUM, L.A. (1967). The reaction to separation in infant monkeys: Anaclytic depression and conservation withdrawal. Psychosom. Med., 29, 648–675. KEATING, J.P. (1982). The myth of panic. Fire Journal, May, 57–62. KEEGAN, J. (1976). The Face of Battle. New York: Viking Press. KEESEY, R.E. (1964). Duration of stimulation and the reward properties of hypothalamic stimulation. J. Comp. Physiol. Psychol., 58, 201–207. KELLAND, C.B. (1930). Panic. American Magazine, 109, 44–45, 92, 95. KELLY, D.H.W., and WALTER, C.J.S. (1968). The relationship between clinical diagnosis and anxiety, assessed by forearm flood flow and other measurements. Br. J. Psychiat. 114, 611–628. KELLEY, G.A. (1955). The Psychology of Personal Constructs. New York: Norton and Company. KELLEY, H.H., CONDRY, J.C., DAHLKE, A.E., and HILL, A.H. (1965). Collective behavior is a simulated and panic situation. J. Exp. Soc. Psychol., 1, 20–56. KESSLER, M.M. (1941). Spontaneous and reflex emotional responses differentiated by lesions in diencephalon. Proc. Soc. Exp. Biol. Med., 47, 225–227. KESSLER, R., and McLEOD, J. (1984). Sex differences in vulnerability to undesirable life events. Am. Sociol. Rev., 49, 620–631. KETY, S. (1970). Neurochemical aspects of emotional behavior. In: Black, P. (Ed.), Physiological Correlates of Emotion. New York: Academic Press. KILLIAN, L.M. (1951). The significance of multiple-group membership in disaster. Amer. J. Sociol., 57, 309–314. KILLIAN, L.M. (1964). Social movements. In: Faris, R.E.L. (Ed.), Handbook of Modern Sociology. Chicago: Rand McNally. KILLIAN, L.M. (1972). Collective Behavior. Englewood Cliffs, NJ: Prentice-Hall. KIMBLE, G.A. (1961). Higard and Marquis’ Conditioning and Learning. (2nd edition). New York: Appleton-Century-Crofts. KIMBRELL, D., and BLAKE, R. (1958). Motivational factors in the isolation of a prohibition. J. Abnorm. Soc. Psychol., 56, 132–133. KING, D.L. (1966). A review and interpretation of some aspects of the infant–mother relationship in mammals and birds. Psychol. Bull., 65, 143–155. KINSTON, W., and ROSSER, R. (1974). Disaster: effects on mental and physical health. J. Psychosom. Res., 18, 437–456. KIRITZ, S., and MOOS, R. (1974). Physiological effects of social environments. Psychosom. Med., 36, 96–114. KLEIN, M. (1940). Mourning and its relation to manic-depressive states. In: Klein, M. (Ed.), Contributions to Psychoanalysis 1921–1945. Hogarth Press: London. KLEITMAN, N. (1963). Sleep and Wakefulness (Revised edition). Chicago: University of Chicago Press.

Bibliography

281

KLEMM, W.R. (1966). A method to encourage extensive study of animal hypnotic behavior. J. Exp. Anal. Behav., 9, 63–64. KLINGER, E. (1967). Modeling effects on achievement imagery. J. Pers. Soc. Psychol., 7, 49–62. KOELLA, W.P., and GELLHORN, E. (1954). The influence of diencephalic lesions upon the action of nocioceptive impulses and hypercapnia on the electrical activity of the cat’s brain. J. Comp. Neurol., 100, 243–255. KOGON, E. (1950). The Theory and Practice of Hell. New York: Farrar Straus. KOHATSU, S. (1970). Human electrogastrography. Jap. J. Smooth Muscle Res., 6, 129–132. KOVACH, J.K., and HESS, E.H. (1963). Imprinting: effects of painful stimulation upon the following response. J. Comp. Physiol. Psychol., 56, 461–464. KUBZANSKY, P.E. (1961). The effects of reduced environmental stimulation on human behavior: A review. In: Biderman, A.P., and Zimmer, H. (Eds), The Manipulation of Human Behavior. New York: Wiley. KURZMAN, D. (1986). Day of the Bomb: Countdown to Hiroshima. New York, NY: McGraw-Hill. LACEY, J.I. (1950). Individual differences in somatic response patterns. J. Comp. Physiol. Psychol., 43, 338–350. LACEY, J.I. (1956). The evaluation of autonomic responses: Towards a general solution. Ann. N.Y. Acad. Sci., 67, 123–164. LACEY, J.I. (1959). Psychophysiological approaches to the evaluation of psychotherapeutic process and outcome. In: Rubenstein, E.A., and Parloff, M.B. (Eds), Research in Psychotherapy. Washington, DC: American Psychological Association. LACEY, J.I. (1967). Somatic response patterning and stress. Some revisions of activation theory. In: Appley, M.H., and Trumbull, R. (Eds), Psychological Stress. New York: Appleton-Century-Crofts. LACEY, J.I., and LACEY, B.C. (1958a). The relationship of resting autonomic activity to motor impulsivity. Proc. Assoc. Res. Nerv. Ment. Dis., 36, 144–209. LACEY, J.I., and LACEY, B.C. (1958b). Verification and extension of the principle of autonomic response stereotypy. Amer. J. Psychol., 71, 50. LACEY, J.I., KAGAN, J., LACEY, B.C., and MOSS, H.A. (1963). The visceral level: Situational determinants and behavioral correlates of autonomic response patterns. In: Knapp, P.H. (Ed.), Expression of the Emotions in Man. New York: International Universities Press. LACHMAN, R., TATSUOKA, M., and BONK, W.J. (1961). Human behavior during the tsunami of May 1960. Science, 133, 1405–1409. LACY, T.J., and BENEDEK, D.M. (2003). Terrorism and weapons of mass destruction: Managing the behavioral reaction in primary care. Southern Med. J., 96(4), 394–399. LADER, M. (1971). The responses of normal subjects and psychiatric patients to repetitive stimulation. In: Levi, L. (Ed.), Society, Stress and Disease. Volume 1. London: Oxford University Press. LADER, M., and MARKS, I. (1971). Clinical Anxiety. London: William Heinemann Medical Books.

282


LADER, M.H., and WING, L. (1966). Physiological Measures, Sedative Drugs and Morbid Anxiety. London: Oxford University Press. LAGERSPETZ, K., and METTALA, R. (1965). Stimulation Experiments on Stimuli Eliciting Aggressive Behavior in Mice. Report of the Psychological Institute, University of Turku, Finland, No. 13. LAING, R. (1965). The Divided Self. London: Penguin. LANA, K., and HNATIOW, M. (1962). Stimulus repetition and the heart rate response. J. Comp. Physiol. Psychol., 55, 781–785. LANA, R.E. (1960). Manipulation–exploration drives and the drive reduction hypothesis. J. Genet. Psychol., 63, 3–27. LANA, R.E. (1962). Exploration phenomena and the drive reduction hypothesis. J. Genet. Psychol., 67, 101–104. LANG, K., and LANG, G.E. (1961). Collective Dynamics. New York: Thomas Y. Crowell Company. LANG, P. J., and HNATIOW, M. (1962). Stimulus repetition and the heart rate response. J. Comp. Physiol. Psychol., 55, 781–785. LANHAM, C. (1943). Panic. Infantry Journal Reader, pp 274–289, 301–308, edited by J.I. Greene. New York: Doubleday, Doran and Co. LANSING, R.W., SCHWARTZ, E., and LINDSLEY, D.B. (1959). Reaction time and EEG activation under alerted and non-alerted conditions. J. Exp. Psychol., 58, 1–7. LANZETTA, J.T. (1955). Group behavior under stress. Human Relations, 8, 29–52. LaPIERE, R.T. (1938). Collective Behavior. New York: McGraw-Hill. LARSON, P.S., HAAG, H.B., and SILVETTE, H. (1961) Tobacco, Experiment and Clinical Studies: A Comprehensive Account of the World Literature. Baltimore: Williams and Wilkins. LARSSON, K. (1963). Non-specific stimulation and sexual behavior in the male rat. Behavior, 20, 110–114. LASSWELL, H.G. (1950). Propaganda and Mass Insecurity. An address given at the Army Medical Center, Washington, DC, sponsored by the Washington School of Psychiatry. LATANÉ, B. (1966). Studies in social comparison – introduction and overview. J. Exp. Soc. Psychol., Suppl., 1, 1–5. LATANÉ, B., and WHEELER, L. (1966). Emotionally and reactions to disaster. J. Exp. Soc. Psychol., Suppl., 1, 95–102. LAWSON, E.D., and STAGNER, R. (1957). Group pressure, attitude change and autonomic involvement. J. Soc. Psychol., 45, 299–312. LAZARUS, R.S. (1966). Psychological Stress and the Coping Process. New York: McGraw-Hill. LAZARUS, R.S. (1967). Cognitive and personality factors underlying threat and coping. In: Appley, M.H., and Trumbull, R. (Eds) Psychological Stress. New York: Appleton-Century-Crofts. LAZARSFELD, P.F., BERELSON, B., GAUDET, H. (1948). The People’s Choice: How the Voter Makes Up his Mind in a Presidential Campaign. New York: Columbia University Press.

Bibliography

283

LeBON, G. (1986). The Crowd. London: Ernest Benn Ltd. LEMKAU, P.C. (1973). On the epidemiology of hysteria. Psychiatric Forum, 3, 1–14. LENSKI, G. (1954). Status crystallization: A non-vertical dimension of social status. Am. Sociol. Rev., 19, 405–413. LESSER, G.S., and ABELSON, R.P. (1959). In: Hovland, C.I., and Janis, I.L. (Eds), Personality and Persuasibility. New Haven: Yale University Press. L’ETANG, H. (1966). Some thoughts on panic in war. Brassey’s Annual: The Armed Forces Yearbook. LEVINE, S. (1962). Little club. Clin. Dev. Med., 7, 18–24. LEVINE, S., and OTIS, L.S. (1958). Can. J. Psychol., 12, 103–108. LEVISON, P.K., and FLYNN, J.P. (1965). The objects attacked by cats during stimulation of the hypothalamus. Anim. Behav., 13, 217–220. LEVY, D. M. (1944). Am. J. Orthopsychiat., 14, 644–671. LEVY, B.S., AND SIDEL, V.W. (Eds 2003) Terrorism and Public Health: A Balanced Approach to Strengthening Systems and Protecting People. New York: Oxford University Press (2003). LEWIS, A. (1934). Melancholia: a clinical survey of depressive states. J. Ment. Sci., 80, 277–278. LEWIS, T. (1929). Observations upon the reaction of the vessels of the human skin to cold. Heart, 15, 177–208. LEWIS, W.C. (1965). Coital movements in the first year of life. Int. J. Psychoanal., 46, 372–374. LI, D., CHOKKA, P, and TIBBO, P. (2001). Toward an integrative understanding of social phobia. J. Psychiatry Neurosci., 26, 190–202. LICKLIDER, J.C.R. (1959). On psychophysiological models. In: Rosenblith, W.A. (Ed.), Sensory Communication. Cambridge, Massachusetts: MIT Press. LIDDELL, H.S. (1953). A comparative approach to the dynamics of experimental neuroses. Ann. N.Y. Acad. Sci., 56, 164–170. LIDDELL, H.S., (1960). Experimental neuroses in animals. In: Tanner, J.M. (Ed.), Stress and Psychiatric Disorder. Oxford: Blackwell. LIFTON, R. (1967). Death in Life: Survivors of Hiroshima. New York, NY: Random House. LILLY, J.C. (1956). Mental effects or reduction of ordinary levels of stimulation on intact healthy persons. Psychiatr. Res. Rep., 5, 1–9. LINDEMANN, E. (1944). Symptomatology and management of acute grief. Am. J. Psychiat., 101, 141–148. LINDSLEY, D.B. (1960). Attention, consciousness, sleep and wakefulness. In: Field, J. (Ed.), Handbook of Physiology. Am. Physiol. Soc., Sec. 1(3), 1553–1594. LINDSLEY, D.B. (1961). Common factors in sensory deprivation, sensory distortion and sensory overload. In: Solomon, P. et al. (Eds), Sensory Deprivation. Cambridge, Massachusetts: Harvard University Press. LINDSLEY, D.B., SCHREINER, L.H., KNOWLES, W.B., and MAGOUN, H.W. (1950). Behavioral and EEG changes following chronic brainstem lesions in the cat. EEG Clin. Neurophysiol., 2, 483–498.

284


LINEBARGER, P. (1954). Psychological Warfare (2nd edition). Washington, DC: Combat Forces Press. LINNER, R. (1995). City of Silence: Listening to Hiroshima. New York: Orbis. LITTLE, R.W. (1964). Buddy relations and combat performance. The New Military: Changing Patterns of Organization, pp. 195–223, edited by M. Janowitz. New York: Russell Sage Foundation. LOEB, J. (1917/1973). Forced Movements, Tropisms, and Animal Conduct. New York: Dover. LORE, R.K. (1968). The activity-drive hypothesis: effects of activity restriction. Psychol. Bull., 70(6), 566–574. LORENZ, K. (1935). Der Kumpan in der Umvelt des Vogels. J. F. Ornith, 83, 137– 213, 289–413. LORENZ, K. (1966). On Aggression. New York: Harcourt, Brace & World. LUCE, R.D. and RAIFFA, H. (1957). Games and Decisions. New York: Wiley. LURIA, A.R. (1932). The Nature of Human Conflict. New York: Liveright. LYKKEN, D.T. (1957). A study of anxiety in the psychopathic personality. J. Abnorm. Soc. Psychol., 55, 6–10. LYNCH, J.J. (1970). Psychophysiology and the development of social attachment. J. Nerv. Ment. Dis., 151(4), 231–214. LYNCH, J.J. (1998). The Broken Heart (2nd edition): New York: Harper. LYNN, R. (1966). Attention, Arousal and the Orientation Reaction. London: Pergamon Press. McDONALD, D.G., STERN, J.A., and HAHN, W.W. (1963). Studies of Classical Heart Rate Conditioning in the Rat. Bethesda, Maryland: US Army Medical Neuropsychiatric Research Unit. Report No. 63-3 (January). McDOUGALL, W. (1920). The Group Mind. London: Cambridge University Press. McFARLAND, D.J. (1969). Mechanisms of behavioral disinhibition. Anim. Behav., 17, 238–242. McGRAW, M.B. (1943). The Neuromuscular Maturation of the Human Infant. New York: Columbia University Press. McGUIRE, W.J. (1968). Personality and attitude change: A theoretical housing. In: Borgatta, F.F., and Lambert, W.W. (Eds), Handbook of Personality Theory and Research. Chicago: Rand-McNally. McHUGH, P. (1965). Social disintegration as a requisite of re-socialization. Social Forces, 44, 355–363. MACADAR, O., ROIG, J.A., MONTI, J.M., and BUDELLI, R. (1970). The functional relationship between septal and hippocampal unit activity and hippocampal theta rhythm. Physiol. Behav., 5, 1443–1449. MacINTYRE, A. (1967). The idea of a social science. Proc. Arist. Soc. Suppl. Vol., 95–114. MACKAY, D.M. (1956). Towards an information-flow model of human behavior. Br. J. Psychol., 47, 30–43. MACKAY, D.M. (1969). Information, Mechanism, and Meaning. London: The MIT Press.

Bibliography

285

MACLEAN, P.D. (1963). Phylogenesis. In: Knapp, P.H. (Ed.), Expression of the Emotions in Man. New York: International Universities Press. MACLEAN, P.D., and PLOOG, D.W. (1962). Cerebral representation of penile erection. J. Neurophysiol. 25, 29–55. McNULTY, J.A., and WALTERS, R.H. (1962). Emotional arousal, conflict, and susceptibility to social influence. Can. J. Psychol., 1962, 16, 211-220. MACKWORTH, J.F. (1970). Vigilance and Behaviour. London: Penguin. MALEY, M.J. (1969). Electrical stimulation of agonistic behavior in the Mallard. Behaviour, 34, 138–160. MALMO, R.B. (1959). Activation: A neuropsychological dimension. Psychol. Rev. 66, 367–386. MALMO, R.B. (1961). Slowing of heart rate after septal self-stimulation in rats. Science, 133, 1128–1130. MALMO, R., and BELANGER, D. (1967). Related physiological and behavioral changes: What are their determinants? Res. Publ. Assoc. Nerv. Ment Dis., XLV, 288–318. MALMO, R.B., SHAGASS, C., DAVIS, J.F., and ENG, M. (1951). Electromyographic studies of muscular tension in psychiatric patients under stress. J. Clin. Exp. Psychopathology, 12, 45–66. MANDELBAUM,. D.G. (1952). Soldier Groups and Negro Soldiers. Berkeley: University of California Press. MANDLER, G. (1967). Comment. In: Appley, M.H., and Trumbull, R. (Eds), Psychological Stress: Issues in Research. New York: Appleton-Century-Crofts. MANNHEIM, H. (1965). Comparative Criminology. Vols 1 and 2. London: Routledge, Kegan Paul. MANNING, J.W., CHARBEN, G.A., and COTTON, M. de V. (1963). Inhibition of tonic cardiac sympathetic activity by stimulation of brain septal region. Amer. J. Physiol., 205, 1221–1226. MAPOTHER, E. (1928). Discussion on manic-depressive psychosis. Brit. Med. J., ii, 872–876. MARGULES, D.L., and OLDS, J. (1962). Identical “feeding” and “rewarding” systems in the lateral hypothalamus in rats. Science 135, 374–375. MARGULES, D.L., and STEIN, L. (1967). Neuroleptics vs. tranquilizers: Evidence from animal behavior studies of mode and site of action. In: Brill, H. et al. (Eds), Neuropsychopharmacology. Volume 5. Amsterdam: Elsevier. MARSHALL, S.L.A. (1947). Men Against Fire. New York: Morrow. . MARX, K., and ENGELS, F. (1930). The Communist Manifesto. New York: International Universities Press. MASON, W.A. (1960). Socially mediated reduction in emotional responses of young rhesus monkeys. J. Abnorm. Soc. Psychol., 60, 100–104. MASON, W.A. (1964). Sociability and social organization in monkeys and apes. In: Berkowitz, L. (Ed.), Advances in Experimental Social Psychology. Volume 1. New York: Academic Press. MASON, W.A. (1965). The social development of monkeys and apes. In: DeVore, I. (Ed.), Primate Behavior. New York: Holt, Rinehart and Winston.

286


MASON, W.A. (1967). Motivational aspects of social responsiveness in young chimpanzees. In: Stevenson, H.W. (Ed.), Early Behavior: Comparative and Developmental Approaches. New York: Wiley. MASON, W.A., and SPONHOLZ, T. (1963). Behavior of rhesus monkeys raised in isolation. J. Psychiat. Res., 1, 399–406. MATTHEWS, W.A. and HEMMINGS, G. (1963). A theory concerning imprinting. Nature 198, 1183-1184. MAWSON, A.R. (1970). Durkheim and contemporary social pathology. Br. J. Sociol., 21, 298–313. MAWSON, A.R. (1978a). Panic Behavior: A Review and a New Hypothesis. Presented at the 9th World Congress of Sociology, Uppsala, Sweden, August 1978. MAWSON, A.R. (1978b). Attenuating effect of fighting on shock-induced gastric ulceration and hypertension: hypothesis of inhibition by sensory feedback. Med. Hypotheses, 4, 403–410. MAWSON, A.R. (1980a). Aggression, attachment behavior, and crimes of violence. In: Hirschi, T., and Gottfredson, M. (Eds), Understanding Crime: Current Theory and Research. Beverly Hills: Sage, pp. 103–116. (Paper presented at the American Society of Criminology, Annual Meeting, Philadelphia, November 1979.) MAWSON, A.R. (1980b). Is the concept of panic useful for study purposes? In: Levin, B. (Ed.), Behavior in Fires. National Bureau of Standards, Special Publication, Proceedings of the Second International Seminar on Behavior in Fire Emergencies, 29 October 1978. NBS Report NBSIR-802070. US Department of Commerce, Washington, DC. (Available from the National Fire Protection Agency, 470 Atlantic Avenue, Boston, Mass 02110.) MAWSON, A.R. (1987). Transient Criminality: A Model of Stress-Induced Crime. New York: Praeger. MAWSON, A.R., BIUNDO, J.J. Jr., CLEMMER, D.I., JACOBS, K.W., KTSANES, V.I., and RICE, J.C. (1996). Sensation-seeking, criminality, and traumatic spinal cord injury: A case-control study. Am. J. Epidemiol., 144, 463–472. MAWSON, A.R. (1999). Stimulation-induced behavioral inhibition: a new model for understanding physical violence. Integr. Physiol. Behav. Sci., 34(3), 177–197. MAWSON, A.R. (2005). Understanding mass panic and other collective responses to threat and disaster. Psychiatry: Interpersonal and Biological Processes, 68, 95–113. MAWSON, A.R. (2005a). Intentional Injury and the Behavioral Syndrome. Aggressive and Violent Behavior 10, 375-405. MAXWELL, W.A. (1923). A Psychological Retrospect of the Great War. New York: MacMillan. MAYER, J., and THOMAS, D.W. (1967). Regulation of food intake and obesity. Science, 156, 328–337. MAYNERT, E.W., and LEVI, R. (1964). Stress induced release of brain norepinephrine and its inhibition by drugs. J. Pharmacol. Exp. Ther., 143, 90–95. MECHANIC, D. (1962). Students Under Stress. New York: Free Press. MEERLOO, J.A.M. (1950). Patterns of Panic. New York: International Universities Press.

Bibliography

287

MEIER, N.R.F. (1969). Frustration theory: restatement and extension. Psychol. Rev., 63, 370–388. MELZACK, R. (1965). Effects of early experience on behavior: Experimental and conceptual considerations. In: Hoch, P.H., and Zubin, J. (Eds), Disorders of Perception. New York: Grune and Stratton. . MELZACK, R. (1968). Early experience: A neuropsychological approach to heredity-environment interaction. In: Newton, G., and Levine, S. (Eds), Early Experience and Behavior. Springfield, Illinois: Charles C. Thomas. MELZACK, R., and SCHECTER, B. (1965). Itch and vibration. Science,147, 1047– 1048. MELZACK, R., and SCOTT, T.H. (1957). The effects of early experience on the response to pain. J. Comp. Physiol. Psychol. 50, 155–161. MELZACK, R., and WALL, P.D. (1965). Pain mechanisms: A new theory. Science, 150, 971–979. MENDELSON, J., and FOLEY, J.M. (1956) An abnormality of mental function affecting patients with poliomyelitis in tank-type respirators. Trans. Amer. Neurol. Assoc. 81, 134–138. MENDELSON, J.H., KUBZANSKY, P.E., LEIDERMAN, P.H., WEXLER, D., and SOLOMON, P. (1961). Physiological and psychological aspects of sensory deprivation – a case analysis. In: Solomon, P. et al. (Eds), Sensory Deprivation. Cambridge, Massachusetts: Harvard University Press. MENNINGER, K. (1938). Man Against Himself. New York: Harcourt. MENNINGER, K. (1954). Psychological aspects of the organisms under stress. Part II: Regulatory devices of the ego under major stress. J. Am. Psychoanal. Assoc., 2, 260–310. MILGRAM, S., and TOCH, H. (1969). Collective behavior: crowds and social movements. In: Lindzey., G., and Aronson, E., (Eds), Handbook of Social Psychology. Volume 4 (2nd edition). New York: Addison Wesley. MILLER, G.A., GALANTER, E., and PRIBRAM, K.H. (1960). Plans and the Structure of Behavior. New York: Holt. MILLER, J. G. (1961). Sensory overloading. In: Flaherty, B.E. (Eds), Psychophysiological Aspects of Space Flight. New York: Columbia University Press. MILLER, J.J., MOGENSON, G.J., and STAVRAKY, G.W. (1970). Effects of stimulation of septum, sciatic nerve, and olfactory bulb on lateral hypothalamic neurons. Fed. Proc., 29, 837. MILLER, N.E. (1959). Liberalization of basic S-R concepts. In: Koch, S. (Ed.), Psychology: A Study of a Science. Study 1, Volume 2. New York: McGraw-Hill. MILLER, N.E. (1965). Chemical coding of behavior in the brain. Science, 148, 328–338. MILLER, N.E., and STEVENSON, S.S. (1936). Agitated behavior in rats during experimental extinction and a curve of spontaneous recovery. J. Comp. Psychol., 21, 205–231. MILNE, G. (1977). Cyclone Tracy: I, Some consequences of the evacuation for adult victims. Aust. Psychol., 12, 39–54.

288


MILNE, G. (1977). Cyclone Tracy: II, Some consequences of the evacuation for adult victims. Aust. Psychol., 12, 55–62. MINTZ, A. (1951). Non-adaptive group behavior. J. Abnorm. Soc. Psychol., 46, 150–159. Reprinted in Schultz, D.P. (Ed., 1964). Panic Behavior. New York: Random House. MOGENSON, G.J., and STEVENSON, J.A.F. (1966). Drinking and self-stimulation with electrical stimulation of the lateral hypothalamus. Physiol. Behav., 1, 251– 254. MOLTZ, H. (1963). Imprinting: An epigenetic approach. Psychol. Rev., 70, 123– 138. MOLTZ, H., ROSENBLUM, L., and HALIKAS, N. (1959). Imprinting and level of anxiety. J. Comp. Physiol. Psychol. 52, 240–244. MOLTZ, H., and STETNER, L.J. (1961). The influence of patterned-light deprivation on the critical period for imprinting. J. Comp. Physiol. Psychol., 54, 270–283. MONTAGU, A. (Ed.,.1968). Man and Aggression. London: Oxford University Press. MONTGOMERY, K.C. (1953). Exploratory behavior as a function of “similarity” of stimulus situations. J. Comp. Physiol. Psychol., 46, 129–133. MONTGOMERY, K.C. (1954). The role of exploratory drive in learning. J. Comp. Physiol. Psychol., 47, 60–64. MOORE, H.E. (1958). Tornadoes Over Texas: A Study of Waco and San Angelo in Disaster. Austin: University of Texas Press. MOORE, H.E., BATES, F.L., LAYMAN, M.V., and PARENTON, V.J. (1963). Before the Wind: A Study of the Response to Hurricane Carla. Disaster Study No. 10, Washington, DC: National Academy of Sciences. National Research Council. MORAN, Lord. (1945). The Anatomy of Courage. London: Constable. MORGAN, D., LOFSTRANDH, S., and COSTA, E. (1972). Amphetamine analogues and brain amines. Life Sciences, II, Part I, 83–96. MORUZZI, G., and MAGOUN, H.W. (1949). Brain-stem reticular formation and activation of the EEG. EEG Clin. Neurophysiol., 1, 455–473. MOSKOS, C.C., Jr. (1975). The American combat soldier in Vietnam. J. Soc. Issues 31, 25–37. MOWRER, O.H. (1940). An experimental analogue of “regression” with incidental observations on “reaction formation”. J. Abnorm. Soc. Psychol., 35, 56–87. MOYER, K.E. (1967). Kinds of Aggression and Their Physiological Basis. Report No. 67-12. Department of Psychology, Carnegie-Mellon University, Pittsburg, PA. MUELLER, D.J. (1970). Physiological techniques of attitude measurement. In: Summers, G.F., (Ed.), Attitude Measurement. Chicago: Rand McNally. MUNSON, E.L. (1921). The Management of Men. New York: Holt. MURPHY, J.P., and GELLHORN, E. (1945). Further investigations on diencephaliccortical relations and their significance for the problem of emotion. J. Neurophysiol., 9, 431–448. MURRAY, H.A. (1933). The effect of fear on the estimates of the maliciousness of other personalities. J. Soc. Psychol., 4, 310–329.

Bibliography

289

MYERS, R.D., and SHARPE, L.G. (1968). Chemical activation of ingestive and other hypothalamic regulatory mechanisms. Physiol. Behav., 3, 987–995. NAGEL, E. (1961). The Structure of Science. New York: Harcourt, Brace and World. NAGERA, H., and COLONNA, A.B. (1965). Aspects of the contribution of sight to ego and drive development. Psychoanal. Study Child, 20, 267–287. NARDINI, J.E. (1952). Survival factors in American prisoners of war of the Japanese. Am. J. Psychiat., 109, 241–248. NATIONAL RESEARCH COUNCIL. (1943). Fear: Ally or traitor. In: Greene, J.I. (Ed.), Infantry Journal Reader.New York: Doubleday and Doran. NAUTA, W.J.H. (1946). Hypothalamic regulation of sleep in rats: An experimental study. J. Neurophysiol., 9, 285–316. NAUTA, W.J.H. (1971). The problem of the frontal lobe: A reinterpretation. J. Psychiat. Res., 8, 167–187. NEWMAN, B.L., and FELDMAN, S.M. (1964). Electrophysiological activity accompanying intracranial self-stimulation. J. Comp. Physiol. Psychol., 37, 244– 247. NEWMAN, J. (1976). Children of disaster: clinical observations at Buffalo Creek. Am. Psychiat., 133, 306–312. NEWTON, J.E.O., and GANTT, W.H. (1968). The history of a catatonic dog. Conditioned Reflex, 3, 45–61. NISSEN, H.W. (1930). A study of exploratory behavior in the white rat by means of the obstruction method. J. Genet. Psychol., 37, 361–376. NISSEN, H.W. (1954). The nature of drive as innate determinant of behavioral organization. In: Jones, M.R. (Ed.), Nebraska Symposium on Motivation. Lincoln: University of Nebraska Press. NISSEN, H.W., CHOW, K.L., and SEMMES, J. (1951). Effects of restricted opportunity for tactual, kinesthetic and manipulatory experience on the behavior of a chimpanzee. Am. J. Psychol., 64, 485–507. NOJI, E.K. (1997). The nature of disaster: general characteristics and public health effects. In: Noji, E.K. (Ed.), The Public Health Consequences of Disasters (pp. 3–20). New York: Oxford University Press. NORWOOD, A.E. (2005). Debunking the myth of panic. Psychiatry, 68(2), 95. OBRIST, P.A., WOOD, D.M., and PEREZ-REYES, M. (1965). Heart rate during conditioning in humans. Effects of UCS intensity, vagal blockade, and adrenergic block on vasomotor activity. J. Exp. Psychol., 70, 32–42. OGAWA, T. (1963). Midbrain reticular influences upon single neurons in lateral geniculate nucleus. Science, 139, 343–344. OKEN, D. (1960). An experimental study of suppressed anger and blood pressure. Arch. Gen. Psychiat., 2, 441-456. OKEN, D. (1967). The psychophysiology and psychoendocrinology of stress and emotion. In: Appley, M.H. and Trumbull, R (Eds), Psychological Stress: Issues in Research. New York: Appleton-Century-Crofts. OLDS, J. (1955). Physiological mechanisms of reward. In: Jones, M.R. (Ed.). Nebraska Symposium on Motivation. Lincoln: University of Nebraska Press.

290


OLDS, J.E., and MILNER, P. (1954). Positive reinforcement produced by electrical stimulation of septal area and other regions of the rat brain. J. Comp. Physiol. Psychol., 47, 419–427. OLDS, J., and OLDS, M.E. (1965). Drives, rewards and the brain. In: Barron, F., Dement, W.C., Edwards, W., Lindmann, H., Olds, J., and Olds, M. (Eds), New Directions in Psychology II. New York: Holt, Rinehart and Winston. . OLDS, M.E., and OLDS, J.S. (1962). Approach–escape interactions in rat brain. Amer. J. Physiol., 203(5), 803–810. OOMURA, Y., OOYAMA, H., YAMAMOTO, T., and NAKA, F. (1967). Reciprocal relationship of the lateral and ventromedial hypothalamus in the regulation of food intake. Physiol. Behav., 2, 97–115. OPLER, M.K. (1940). The Southern Ute Indians of Colorado. In: Linton, R. (Ed.), Acculturation in Seven American Indian Tribes. New York: Appleton-CenturyCrofts. OPLER, M.K. (1967). Cultural induction of stress. In: Appley, M.H., and Trumbull, R. (Eds), Psychological Stress: Issues in Research. NewYork: Appleton-CenturyCrofts. ORBACH, J., MILNER, B., and RASMUSSEN, T. (1960). Learning and retention in monkeys after amygdalohippocampal resection. Arch. Neurol. (Chicago), 3, 230–251. OSGOOD, C.E., SUCI, G.J., and TANNENBAUM, P.H. (1957). The Measurement of Meaning Urbana, Illinois: University of Illinois Press. PARKES. C.M. (1970). The psychosomatic effects of bereavement. In: Hill,O.W. (Ed.), Modern Trends in Psychosomatic Medicine. London: Butterworths. PARSONS, T., and SMELSER, N.J. (1956). Economy and Society. Illinois: Free Press of Glencoe. PASTEL, R.H. (2001). Collective behaviors: mass panic and outbreaks of multiple unexplained symptoms. Military Medicine, 166 (Suppl 2), 44–46. PAVLOV, I.P. (1927). Conditioned Reflexes and Psychiatry. Translated by Gantt, W.H. New York: International Press. PEARL, J.M., RITCHIE, W.P., GILSDORF, R.B., DELANEY, J.P., and LEONARD, A.S. (1966). Hypothalamic stimulation and feline gastric mucosal cellular populations. JAMA, 195, 281–284. PEREZ-CRUET, J., BLACK, W.C., and BRADY, J.V. (1963). Heart rate: Differential effects of hypothalamic and septal self-stimulation. Science, 140, 1235–1236. PEREZ-CRUET, J., McINTYRE, R.W., and PLISKOFF, S.S. (1966).Blood-pressure and heart rate during hypothalamic self-stimulation. J. Comp. Physiol. Psychol., 60, 373–381. PERRY, R.W. (1994). A model of evacuation compliance behavior. In: Dynes, RR., and Tierney, K.J. (Eds), Disasters, Collective Behavior, and Social Organization (pp. 85–98). Newark, DE: University of Delaware Press. PETERSEN, V. (1953). Panic: the ultimate weapon. Collier’s Magazine, 132, 99–109. PETRIE, A. (1967). Individuality in Pain and Suffering. Chicago: University of Chicago Press.

Bibliography

291

PFISTER, H.O. (1938). Disturbances in autonomic function in schizophrenia and their relations to insulin, cardiazol and sleep treatments. Am. J. Psychiat., 94, 109–118. PHILLIPS, L. (1968). A social view of psychopathology. In: London, P., and Rosenhan, D. (Eds), Foundations of Abnormal Psychology. New York: Holt, Rinehart and Winston. PHILLIPS, R.A., and ALKAN, M. (1961). Recurrent self-mutilation. Psychiat. Quart., 35, 424–431. PHILLIPS, T.R. (1943). Leader and led. Infantry Journal Reader, pp. 289–306. PIAGET, J. (1929). The Child’s Conception of the World. New York: Harcourt Brace. PIERCE, J.T., and NUTTALL, R.L. (1961). Duration of sexual contacts in the rat. J. Comp. Physiol. Psychol., 54, 585–587. PITZ, G.F., and ROSS, R.R. (1961). Imprinting as a function of arousal. J. Comp. Physiol. Psychol., 54, 502–604. PORTER, R.W., MOVIUS, H.H., MOVIUS, H.T., and FRENCH, J.D. (1953). Hypothalamic influences on hydrochloric acid secretion of the stomach. Surgery, 33, 875–880. PRECHTL, H.F.R. (1965). Problems of behavior studies in the newborn infant. In: Lehrman, D.S., Hinde, R.A., and Shaw, E. (Eds), Advances in the Study of Behavior, Volume 1. New York: Academic Press. PRECHTL, H.F.R. (1968). Polygraphic studies of the full-term newborn infant: II, Computer analysis of recorded data. In: Bax, M.C.O., and MacKeith, R.C. (Eds), Studies in Infancy. Clinics in Development Medicine, No.27. London: Heinemann. PRESCOTT, J.W. (1967). Invited commentary. In: Appley, M.H. and Trumbull, R. (Eds), Psychological Stress. New York: Appleton-Century-Crofts. PRESCOTT, R.G.W. (1964). Brain-Stem Stimulation and Reinforcementin the Albino Rat. PhD thesis, University of Cambridge: England. PRIBRAM, K.H. (1962). Reinforcement revisited: A structural view. In: Jones, M.R. (Ed.), Nebraska Symposium on Motivation. Lincoln: University of Nebraska Press. PRIBAM, K.H. (1967). The new neurology and the biology of emotion: A structural approach. Am. Psychologist, 22, 830–838. PRIBRAM, K.H. (Ed., 1969). Adaptation: Selected Readings. London: Penguin (Brain and Behavior Series, No. 4). PRICE, J. (1971). The pre-eminence of the first-born child. World Med., 6(21), 49ff. PROULX, G. (1999). Occupant response to fire alarm signals. National Fire Alarm Code Handbook – National Fire Protection Association 72, 403–412. PROULX, G. (2002). Understanding human behavior in stressful situations. National Research Council Canada. Institute for Research in Construction. Report No. NRCC-45394. Also published in: Workshop to Identify Innovative Research Needs to Foster Improved Fire Safety in the United States, National Academy of Sciences, Delegate Binder Section 7, Washington, DC, 15–16 April 2002.

292


PROULX, G. (2003). Researchers learn from World Trade Center survivors’ accounts. Construction Innovation, 8(1), 1–3. QUARANTELLI, E. (1954). The nature and conditions of panic. Am. J. Sociol., 60, 267–275. Reprinted in Schultz, D.P. (Ed.), Panic Behavior, 1964, Random House. QUARANTELLI, E. (1957). The behavior of panic participants. Sociol. Social Res., 41, 187–194. Reprinted in Schultz, D.P. (Ed.), Panic Behavior, 1964, Random House. QUARANTELLI, E.L. (1960). Images of withdrawal behavior in disasters: Some basic misconceptions. Social Problems, 8, 63–79. QUARANTELLI, E.L. (1977). Panic behavior: Some empirical observations. In: Conway, D.J. (Ed.), Human Response to Tall Buildings (pp. 336–350). Stroudsberg, PA: Dowden, Hutchinson and Ross. QUARANTELLI, E.L. (2001). The sociology of panic. In: Smelser, N.J, and Baltes, P(Eds) International Encyclopedia of the Social and Behavioral Sciences. Oxford: Pergamon Press. QUARANTELLI, E.L., and DYNES, R. (1977). Response to social crisis and disaster. Ann. Rev. Sociol., 3, 23–49. QUAY, H. (1965). Psychopathic personality as pathological stimulation-seeking. Am. J. Psychiat., 122, 180–193. RAAB, W. (1971). Cardio-toxic biochemical effects of emotion – environmental stressors – fundamentals of psycho-cardiology. In: Levi, L. (Ed.), Society, Stress and Disease. Volume 1. Oxford University Press. RABB, G.B., and RABB, M.S. (1963). On the behavior and breeding biology of the African pipid frog. Hymenochius boetteri, Zeits f. Tierpsychol., 20, 215–241. RABBIE, J.M. (1963). Differential preference for companionship under threat. J. Abnorm. Soc. Psychol., 67, 643–648. RABER, H. (1948). Analyse des Balzverhalten eines domestizierten Truthahas (Meleagris). Behavior, 1, 237–236. RADLOFF, R. (1961). Opinion evaluation and affiliation. J. Abnorm. Soc. Psychol., 62, 578–585. RAINE, A. (2002). Annotation: The role of prefrontal deficits, low autonomic arousal, and early health factors in the development of antisocial and aggressive behavior in children. J. Child Psychol. Psychiat., 43, 417–434. RANDALL, W.L. (1964). The behavior of cats (Falls catus L.) with lesions in the caudal midbrain area. Behavior, 26, 107–139. RANK, O. (1924). The Trauma of Birth. (English trans., 1929), London: Kegan Paul. RANSON. S.W. (1934). The hypothalamus: its significance for visceral innervations and emotional expression. Trans. Coll. Physicians (Philadelphia), Section. 4(2), 222–242. RANSON, S.W. (1939). Somnolence caused by hypothalamic lesions in the monkey. Arch. Neurol. Psychiat., 41, 1–23. RANSON, S.W. (1947). The normal battle reaction: its relation to the pathologic battle reaction. Bull. US Army Med. Dept., (Supp), pp. 3–11.

Bibliography

293

RANSON. S.W., and MAGOUN, H.W. (1939). The hypothalamus. Ergbn. Physiol., 41, 56–163. RAPHAEL, B. (2005). Crowds and other collectives: complexities of human behaviors in mass emergencies. Psychiatry, 68(2), 115–120. RATNER, S.C. (1967). Comparative aspects of hypnosis. In: Gordon, J.E. (Ed.), Handbook of Clinical and Experimental Hypnosis. New York: Macmillan. RATNER, S.C. and THOMPSON, R.W. (1960) Immobility reactions (fear) of domestic fowl as a function of age and prior experience. Animal. Behav., 8, 186–191. RAZRAN, G. (1961). The observable unconscious and the inferable conscious in current Soviet psychophysiology: interoceptive conditioning, semantic conditioning and the orienting reflex. Psychol. Rev., 68, 81–147. REICHER, S. (2000). The psychology of crowd dynamics. In Hogg, M., and Tindale, S. (Eds), Handbook of Social Psychology: Group Processes. Oxford: Blackwell. REIK, T. (1944). A Psychologist Looks at Love. New York: Farrow and Rinehart. RESSLER, E.M. (1992). UNICEF Recommendations. In Ressler, E. (Ed.), Evacuation of Children from Conflict Areas. UNHCR and UNICEF. REYNOLDS, R.W. (1958) The relationship between stimulation voltage and rate of hypothalamic self-stimulation in the rat. J. Comp. Physiol. Psychol., 51, 193–198. RHEINGOLD, H.L. (1961). The effect of environmental stimulation upon social and exploratory behavior in the human infant. In: Foss, B.M. (Ed.), Determinants of Infant Behavior, Volume 1. London: Methuen. RHEINGOLD, H.L. (1966). The development of social behavior in the human infant. Monogr. Soc. Res. Child Develop., 31(5), 1–17. RHEINGOLD, H.L. (1969). The effect of a strange environment on the behavior of infants. In: Foss, B.M. (Ed.), Determinants of Infant Behavior, Volume 4, London: Methuen. RHOLES, W.S., and SIMPSON, J.A. (Eds, 2004), Adult Attachment: Theory, Research, and Clinical Implications. New York: Guilford Press. RIBOT, T. (1911). The Psychology of The Emotions (2nd edition). New York: Scribners. RICHTER, C.P. (1922). A behavioristic study of the activity of the rat. Comp. Psychol. Monog., 1, 1–55. RICHTER, C.P. (1927). Animal behavior and internal drives. Quart. Rev. Biol., 2, 307–343. RICHTER, C.P. (1957). Hormones and rhythms in man and animals. In: Recent Progress in Hormone Research, Volume 8. New York: Academic Press. RICHTER, C.P. (1957). On the phenomenon of sudden death in animals and man. Psychosom. Med., 19, 191–198. RICKMAN, J. (1938). Panic and air-raid precautions. Lancet, 234, 1291–1295. RIESEN, A.H. (1958). Plasticity of behavior: Psychological series. In: Harlow, H.F., and Woolsey, C.N. (Eds). Biological and Biochemical Bases of Behavior. Madison, WI: University of Wisconsin Press. RIESEN, A.H. (1961). Excessive arousal effects of stimulation after early sensory deprivation. In: Solomon, P. et al. (Eds), Sensory Deprivation. Cambridge, Massachusetts: Harvard University Press.

294


RIESMAN, D., with GLASER, N., and DENNEY, R. (1950). The Lonely Crowd. Yale University Press. RIMLAND, B. (1964). Infantile Autism. New York: Appleton-Century-Crofts. RING, K., UPINSKI, C.E., and BRAGINSKY, D. (1968). The relationship of birth order to self-evaluation, anxiety reduction and susceptibility to emotional contagion. In: Wrightsman, L.S. (Ed.), Contemporary Issues in Social Psychology. Belmont, CA: Brooks-Cole Publishing Company. RIOCH, D. McK. (1971). The development of gastrointestinal lesions in monkeys. In: Levi, L. (Ed.), Society, Stress and Disease. Volume 1. London: Oxford University Press. ROBERTS, C.L., MARX, M.H., and COLLIER, E. (1958). Light onset and light offset as reinforcers for the albino rat. J. Comp. Physiol. Psychol., 51, 575–579. ROBERTS, W.W. (1958a). Rapid escape learning without avoidance learning motivated by hypothalamic stimulation in rats. J. Comp. Physiol. Psychol., 51, 391–399. ROBERTS, W.W. (1958b). Both rewarding and punishing effects from stimulation of posterior hypothalamus of rat with same electrode at same intensity. J. Comp. Physiol. Psychol., 51, 400–407. ROBERTS, W.W. (1969). Are hypothalamically motivational mechanisms functionally and anatomically specific? Brain, Behavior & Evolution, 2, 317–342. ROBERTS, W.W., and BERQUIST, E.H. (1968). Attack elicited by hypothalamic stimulation in cats raised in social isolation. J. Comp. Physiol. Psychol., 66, 590–595. ROBERTS, W.W. and CAREY, R.J. (1965). Rewarding effect of performance of gnawing aroused by hypothalamic stimulation in the rat. J. Comp. Physiol. Psychol., 59, 317–324. ROBERTS, W.W., DEMBER, W.N., and BRODWICH, M. (1962). Alternation and exploration in rats with hippocampal lesions. J. Comp. Physiol. Psychol., 55, 695–700. ROBERTSON, J. (1953). Some responses of young children to the loss of maternal care. Nursing Times, XLIX. ROBERTSON, L.S., and DOTSON, L.E. (1969). Perceived parental expressivity, reaction to stress and affiliation. J. Pers. Soc. Psychol., 12(3), 229–234. ROSÉN, A. (1961). Acta physiol. Scand., 52, 291. ROSENBAUM, M.E., HORNE, W.C., and CHALMERS, D. K. (1962). J. Pers., 30, 147–156. ROSENBLUM, L.A., and HARLOW, H.F. (1963). Approach–avoidance conflict in the mother–surrogate situation. Psychol. Rep., 12, 83–85. ROSENGREN, K.K., ARVIDSON, P., and STURESSON, D. (1975). The Barseback “panic”: a radio program as a negative summary event. Acta Sociologica, 18, 303–321. ROSENQUIST, A.C., and HOEBEL, B.G. (1968). Wheel turning elicited by electrical stimulation of the brain. Physiol. Behav., 3, 363–366. ROSENTHAL, M.K. (1967). Effects of a novel situation and of anxiety on two groups of dependency behaviors. Br. J. Psychol., 58(3) and (4), 357–364.

Bibliography

295

ROTHCHILD, I. (1967). The neurologic basis for the anovulation of the luteal phase, lactation and pregnancy. In: Lamming, G.C., and Amoroso, E.C. (Eds), Reproduction in the Female Mammal. London: Butterworths. ROUSSEAU, J.J. (1755). Discours sur l’origine et les Fondements de l’inégalité parmi les Hommes. Trans. as The Social Contract and Discourses (1914) London: Dent. ROUTTENBERG, A. (1965). Certain Effects of Stimulation in Septal Area and Hypothalamus. Unpublished doctoral dissertation. University of Michigan. ROUTTENBERG, A. (1968). The two-arousal hypothesis: reticular formation and limbic system. Psychol. Rev., 75(1), 51–80. ROUTTENBERG, A., and OLDS, J.C. (1963). Alternation of response to an aversive brain stimulus by concurrent rewarding septal stimulation. Fed. Proc., 22, 515 (Abstract). ROWELL, C.H.F. (1961). Displacement grooming in the chaffinch. Anim. Behav., 9, 38–63. ROWELL, T. (1965). Some observations on a hand-reared baboon. In: Foss, B.M. (Ed.), Determinants of Infant Behavior, Volume 32. London: Methuen. RUFF, G.E., LEVY, E.Z., and THALER, V.H. (1961). Factors influencing reaction to reduced sensory input. In: Solomon, P. et al. (Eds), Sensory Deprivation. Cambridge, Massachusetts: Harvard University Press. RUTTER, M. (1972). Maternal Deprivation Reassessed. Harmondsworth, Middlesex, UK: Penguin Books. SALZEN, E.A. (1962). Imprinting and fear. Symp. Zool. Soc. Lond. 8, 199–217. SALZEN, E.A. (1963). Anim. Behav, 22, 66–71. SALZEN, E.A. (1966). The interaction of experience, stimulus characteristics and exogenous androgen in the behavior of domestic chicks. Behavior, 26, 286–322. SALZEN, E.A. (1967). Imprinting in birds and primates. Behavior, 23(3) 232–254. SALZEN, E.A. (1978). Social attachment and a sense of security – a review. Social Science Information, 17, 555–627. SAMEROFF, A. (1968). Can Conditioned Responses be Established in the Newborn Infant? Paper presented at the Eastern Regional Meeting of the Society for Research in Child Development, Worcester, Massachusetts. SAMPSON, E.E. (1962). Birth order, need achievement and conformity. J. Abnorm. Soc. Psychol., 64, 155–159. SARGANT, W. (1957). Battle for the Mind. London: Pan Books. SARGANT, W., and SHORVON, H.J. (1945). Acute war neuroses: special reference to Pavlov’s experimental observations. Arch. Neurol. Psychiat., LIV, 231. SARNOFF, I., and ZIMBARDO, P.G. (1961). Anxiety, fear and social affiliation. J. Abnorm. Soc. Psychol., 62, 356–363. SAUL, G.D., and FELD, M. (1961). The limbic system and EST seizures. In: Wortis, J. (Ed.), Recent Advances in Biological Psychiatry, Volume III. New York: Grune and Stratton. SCANLON, J. (1979). Human behavior in a fatal apartment house fire. Fire Journal (May), pp. 76–79, 122–123. SCHACHTER, J. (1957). Pain, fear and anger in hypertensives and normotensives: A psychophysiological study. Psychosom. Med., 19, 17–29.

296


SCHACHTER, S. (1959). The Psychology of Affiliation. Tavistock: London. SCHACHTER, S. (1963). Birth order, eminence and higher education. Am. Sociol. Rev., 28, 757–768. SCHACHTER, S. (1968). Cognitive effects on bodily functioning: Studies of obesity and eating. In: Borgatta, E.F. (Ed.), Social Psychology: Readings and Perspectives. Chicago: Rand, McNally. SCHACHTER, S., and LATANÉ, B. (1964). Crime, cognition and the autonomic nervous system. In: Levine, D. (Ed.), Nebraska Symposium on Motivation. Lincoln: University of Nebraska Press. SCHACHTER, S. and SINGER, J.E. (1962). Cognitive, social and physiological determinants of emotional state. Psychol. Rev., 69, 379–399. SCHAFFER, H.R. (1966). The onset of fear of strangers and the incongruity hypothesis. J. Child Psychol. Psychiat., 7, 96–106. SCHAFFER, H.R., and EMERSON, P.E. (1964). The development of social attachments in infancy. Monogr. Soc. Res. Child Dev., 29(3), 1–77. SCHMALE, A.H., Jr. (1958). Relationship of separation and depression to disease. Psychosom. Med., 20, 259–277. SCHMIDEBERG. W. (1939). The treatment of panic, casualty area and clearing station. Life and Letters Today, 23, 162–169. SCHNEIRLA, T.C. (1959). An evolutionary and developmental theory of biphasic processes underlying approach and withdrawal. In: Jones, M.R. (Ed.), Nebraska Symposium on Motivation. Lincoln: University of Nebraska Press. SCHNEIRLA, T.C. (1965). Aspects of stimulation and organization in approach– withdrawal processes underlying vertebrate behavioral development. In: Lehrman, D.L., Hinde, R.A., and Shaw, E. (Eds), Advances in the Study of Behavior. New York: Academic Press. SCHOCH-SPANA, M. (2003). Educating, informing, and mobilizing the public. In: Levy, B.S., and Sidel, V.W. (Eds). Terrorism and Public Health: A Balanced Approach to Strengthening Systems and Protecting People (pp. 118–135). New York, NY: Oxford University Press. SCHREINER, L., and KLING, A. (1956). Rhinencephalon and behavior. Am. J. Physiol., 194, 486–490. SCHULTZ, D.P. (ed).(1964a). Panic Behavior. New York: Random House. SCHULTZ, D.P. (1964b). Panic in organized collectivities. Journal of Social Psychology, 63, 353–359. (Reprinted in Schultz 1964a). SCHULTZ, D.P. (1965). Sensory Restriction: Effects on Behavior. New York: Academic Press. SCHULTZ, D.P. (1971a). Panic in the Military. Technical report, Office of Naval Research. Washington, DC: Contract No. N00014-67-0131, NR, 170-274. SCHULTZ, D.P. (1971b). Group Behavior in a Simulated Panic Situation. Final Report. Psychological Sciences Division, Office of Naval Research. Washington, DC: Contract No. N00014-67-L-0313, NR, 120-274. SCOTT, E.L. (1952). Perceptions of Organization and Leadership Behavior: A Study of Perceptions of Organization Structure and their Social Correlates in a Submarine Squadron of the US Navy. ONR Contr. N6 ori-17. Columbus: Ohio State University.

Bibliography

297

SCOTT, J.P. (1967). The development of social motivation. In: Levine, D. (Ed.), Nebraska Symposium on Motivation. Lincoln: Nebraska University Press. SCOTT, T., BEXTON, W.H., HERON, W., and DOANE, B.K. (1959). Cognitive effects of perceptual isolation. Can. J. Psychol., 13, 200–209. SEARS, R.R. (1963). In: Jones, M.R. (Ed.), Nebraska Symposium on Motivation. Lincoln: University of Nebraska Press. SEARS, R., MACCOBY, E., LEVIN, H. (1957). Patterns of Child Rearing. Evanston, IL: Row Peterson. SEDMAN, G. (1968). An Investigation of States of Affect and Alteration in Consciousness as Factors Concerned in the Aetiology of Depersonalization. PhD thesis. University of Sheffield: England. SEDMAN, G. (1970). Theories of depersonalization: A re-appraisal. Br. J. Psychiat., 117, 1–14. SEDMAN, G., and KENNA, J.C. (1963). Depersonalization and mood changes in schizophrenia. Br. J. Psychiat., 109, 669–673. SEISS, R. (1965). Berbachtungen zur Frage der ubersprunglewegungun in menschlichen Verhatten. Psychol. Baitr., 8, 1–97. SELYE, H. (1936). A syndrome produced by diverse nocious agents. Nature, 138, 32. SELYE, H. (1950). The Physiology and Pathology of Exposure to Stress. Montreal: Acta. SELYE, H. (1956). The Stress of Life. New York: McGraw-Hill. SELYE, H. (1960). The concept of stress in experimental physiology. In: Tanner, J.M. (Ed.), Stress and Psychiatric Disorder. Oxford: Blackwell. SHACHAM, M., and LAHAD, M. (2004). Stress reactions and coping resources mobilized by children under shelling and evacuation. Aust. J. Disaster Trauma Stud., 2 (http://www.massey.ac.nz/~trauma/issues/2004-2/shacham.htm). SHAND, A.F. (1920). The Foundations of Character. London: MacMillan. SHANNON, C.E., and WEAVER, W. (1949). The Mathematical Theory of Communication. Urbana, Illinois: University of Illinois Press. SHARPE, L.G., and MYERS, R.D. (1969). Feeding and drinking following stimulation of the diencephalon of the monkey with amines and other substances. Exp. Brain. Res., 8, 395–410. SHARPLESS, S., and JASPER, H.H. (1956). Habituation of the arousal reaction. Brain, 79, 655–680. SHEATSLEY, P.B., and FELDMAN, J.J. (1964). The assassination of President Kennedy: Public reactions. Pub. Opin. Quart., 28, 189–215. SHERIF, M., and HARVEY, O.J. (1952). A study of ego-functioning: Elimination of stable anchorages in individual and group situations. Sociometry, 15, 272–305. SHERRICK, C.E., Jr. (1964). Effects of double simultaneous stimulation of the skin. Am. J. Psychol., 77, 42–53. SHILS, E., and JANOWITZ, M. (1948). Cohesion and disintegration in the Wehrmacht in World War II. Pub. Opin. Quart., 12, 280–305. SHORVON, H.J., and RICHARDSON, J.S. (1949). Sudden obesity following psychological trauma. Br. Med. J., 2, 951. SIM, M. (1968). Guide to Psychiatry (2nd edition). Edinburgh and London: Livingstone Ltd.

298


SIME, J. (1980). The concept of panic. In: Canter, D. (Ed.), Fires and Human Behavior (pp. 63–81), (1st edition). Chichester, UK: John Wiley. SIME, J.D. (1983). Affiliative behavior during escape to building exits. J. Environmental Psychol., 3, 21–41. SIME, J.D. (1985). Movement toward the familiar: person and place affiliation in a fire entrapment setting. Environment & Behavior, 17, 697–724. SMELSER, N.J. (1959). Social Change in the Industrial Revolution. London: Routledge and Kegan Paul. SMELSER, N.J. (1963). Theory of Collective Behavior. New York: Free Press. SMELSER, N.J. (1964). Theoretical issues of scope and problems. Sociol. Quart., April, 116–122. Reprinted in Evans, R.R. (Ed., 1969), Readings in Collective Behavior. Chicago: Rand McNally. SMELSER, N.J. (1968). Essays in Sociological Explanation. New York: Prentice Hall. SMITH, F.V. (1960). Toward a definition of the stimulus situation for the approach response in the domestic chick. Anim. Behav., 8, 197–200. SMITH, F.V. (1969). Attachment of the Young: Imprinting and other Developments. Edinburgh: Oliver and Boyd. SMITH, K.H., and RICHARDS, B. (1967). Effects of a rational appeal and of anxiety on conformity behavior. J. Pers. Soc. Psychol., 5(1), 122–126. SMITH, S., and LEWTY, W. (1959). Perceptual isolation using a silent room. Lancet, 342–345. SMYTHIES, J.R. (1967). Brain mechanisms and behavior. Brain, 90(3), 697–706. SNAPPER, I. (1955). Food preference in man: Special cravings and aversions. Ann. N.Y. Acad. Sci., 63, 92–106. SOBEL, R. (1947). The “Old Sergeant” Syndrome. Psychiatry, 10, 315–321. SOHLBERG, S.C. (1976). Stress experiences and combat fatigue during the Yom Kippur War (1973). Psychol. Rep., 38, 523–529. SOKOLOV, E.N. (1963). Perception and the Conditioned Reflex. London: Pergamon Press. SOLOMON, R.L., and WYNNE, L.C. (1953). Traumatic avoidance learning: the outcomes of several extinction procedures with dogs. J. Abnorm. Soc. Psychol., 48, 291–302. SONTAG, L.W. (1960). The possible relationship of pre-natal environment to schizophrenia. In: Jackson, D.D. (Ed.), The Etiology of Schizophrenia. New York: Basic Books. SOURS, J.A. (1965). The “break-off” phenomenon. Arch. Gen. Psychiat., 13, 447– 456. SPAULDING, D. (1873). Instinct with original observations on young animals. MacMillan’s Magazine, 27, 282–293). (Reprinted in Br. J. Anim. Behav., 1954, 2, 2–11). SPENCE, K.W. (1958). A theory of emotionally-based drive (D) and its relation to performance in simple learning situations. Am. Psychol., 13, 131–141. SPITZ, R.A. (1953). Aggression: its role in the establishment of object relations. In: Loewenstein, R.M. (Ed.), Drives, Affects, Behavior. New York: International Universities Press.

Bibliography

299

SPITZ, R.A., and WOLF, K. (1945). Hospitalism: An inquiry into the genesis of psychiatric conditions in early childhood. Psychoanal. Study of the Child, 1, 53– 74. STAGNER, R., and KARWOSKI, T.F. (1952). Psychology. New York: McGrawHill. STAPLES, F.R., and WALTERS, R.H. (1961). Anxiety, birth order and susceptibility to social influence. J. Abnorm. Soc. Psychol., 62, 716–719. STEIN, L. (1965). Facilitation of avoidance behavior by positive brain stimulation. J. Comp. Physiol. Psychol., 60, 1–9. STEIN, L. (1969). Chemistry of purposive behavior. In: Tapp, J.T. (Ed.), Reinforcement and Behavior. Academic Press. STEINIGER, F. (1936). Die Biologie der Sogenannten “tierischen Hypnose.” Ergebn. Biol. Berlin, 13, 248–451. STERN, J. (1999). The Ultimate Terrorists. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press. STINNETT, J.L. and HOLLENDER, M.H. (1970). Compulsive self-mutilation. J. Nerv. Ment. Dis., 150(5), 371–375. STITH-BUTLER, A. (2003). Preparing for the Psychological Consequences of Terrorism: A Public Health Strategy. National Academy of Sciences, Institute of Medicine Report, 34(8), September. STOKES, A.W. (1962). Agonistic behavior among Blue Tits at a winter feeding situation. Behavior, 19, 118–138. STONE, C.P. (1922). Congenital sexual behavior of young albino rats. J. Comp. Physiol. Psychol., 2, 95–153. STOUFFER, S.A., SUCHMAN E.A., DEVINNER L.C., STAR S.A., and WILLIAMS, R.M., Jr., et al. (1949). The American Soldier, Volume 2: Combat and its Aftermath. Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press. STOVER, C.S., and BERKOWITZ, S.J. (2005). Assessing violence exposure and trauma symptoms in young children: a critical review of measures. Trauma Stress, 18, 707–717. STRANGE, R.E. (1969). Effects of combat stress on hospital ship psychiatric evacuees. In: Bourne, P.G. (Ed.), Psychology and Physiology of Stress. New York: Academic Press. STRAUSS, A. (1944). The literature on panic. J. Abnorm. Soc. Psychol., 29, 317– 318. STUMPF, C. (1965a). Drug action on the electrical activity of the hippocampus. In: Pfeiffer, C.C. (Ed.), International Review of Neurobiology. New York: Academic Press. STUMPF, C. (1965b). The fast component in the electrical activity of the rabbit’s hippocampus. EEG Clin. Neurophysiol., 18, 477–486. STUNKARD, A.J. (1968). Environment and obesity: Recent advances in our understanding of regulation of food intake in man. Fed. Proc., 27, 1367–1373. STŰRUP, G., BOLTON, B., WILLIAMS, D.J., and CARMICHAEL, E.A. (1935). Brain, 58, 456.

300


SUMNER, W.G. (1940). Folkways: A Study of the Sociological Importance of Usages, Manners, Customs, Mores and Morals. Boston: Ginn and Co. SWARTZ, J.A. (1980). Importance of role assumption in behavior of people in fires. In: Levin, B. (Ed.), Behavior in Fires. National Bureau of Standards, Special Publication. Proceedings of the Second International Seminar on Behavior in Fire Emergencies, 29 October 1978. NBS Report NBSIR-802070. US Department of Commerce, Washington, DC. (Available from the National Fire Protection Agency, 470 Atlantic Avenue, Boston, Mass 02110). TAINTOR, Z. (2003). Addressing mental health needs In Levy, B.S., and Sidel, B.W. (Eds), Terrorism and Public Health: A Balanced Approach to Strengthening Systems and Protecting People (pp. 49–68). New York, NY: Oxford University Press. TAJFEL, H. (1978). Interindividual behavior and intergroup behavior. In Tajfel, H. (Ed.), Differentiation between Social Groups: Studies in the Social Psychology of Intergroup Relations (pp. 27–60). London: Academic Press. TAYLOR, S.E., KLEIN, L.C., LEWIS, B.P., GRUENEWALD, T.L., GURUNG, R.A.R., and UPDEGRAF, J.A. (2000). Biobehavioral responses to stress in females: tend and befriend, not fight-or-flight. Psychol. Rev., 107, 411–429. TEICHMAN, M. (1977). Affiliative behaviors among soldiers during wartime. Br. J. Soc. Clin. Psychol., 16, 3–7. TEICHNER, W.H. (1968). Interaction of behavioral and physiological stress reactions. Psychol. Rev., 75(4), 271–291. TEITELBAUM, P. (1969). Stages of recovery and development of lateral hypothalamic control of food and water intake. Ann. N.Y. Acad. Sci., Art. 2, 849– 860. TEITELBAUM, P., and EPSTEIN, A.N. (1962). The lateral hypothalamic syndrome: Recovery of feeding and drinking after lateral hypothalamic lesions. Psychol. Rev. 69, 74–90. TEITELBAUM, P., and MILNER, P.M. (1963). Activity changes following partial hippocampal lesions in rats. J. Comp. Physiol. Psychol., 56, 284–289. THIERRY, A.-M., JAVOY, F., GLOWINSKI, J., and KETY, S. (1968). Effects of stress on the metabolism of norepinephrine, dopamine and serotomin in the central nervous system of the rat. I. Modification of norepinephrine turnover. J. Pharmacol. Exp. Ther., 163, 163–171. THOMAS, G.J., and SLOTNICK, B.M. (1963). Impairment of avoidance responding by lesions in cingulate cortex in rats depends on food drive. J. Comp. Physiol. Psychol., 56, 959–964. THOMPSON, W.W., GOTTESMAN, I.I., AND ZALEWSKI, C. (2006). Reconciling disparate prevalence rates of PTSD in large samples of US male Vietnam veterans and their controls. BMC Psychiatry, 6, 19 (doi:10.1186/1471-244X/6/19). (http://www.biomedcentral.com/1471-244X/6/19). TINBERGEN, N. (1952). Derived activities: Their causation, biological significance, origin and emancipation during evolution. Quart. Rev. Biol., 27, 1–32.

Bibliography

301

TINKLEPAUGH, D.L. (1928). The self-mutilation of a male macacus rhesus monkey. J. Mammal., 9(4), 293–300. TITMUSS, R. (1950). Problems of Social Policy. London: Her Majesty’s Stationery Office. TOBACH, E., and SCHNEIRLA, T.C. (1962). Eliminative responses in mice and rats and the problem of “emotionality”. In: Bliss, E.L. (Ed.), Roots of Behavior. New York: Harper and Brothers. TOLMAN, C.W. (1967). Anim. Behav., 15, 145–148. TRAUTMAN, E.C. (1964). Fear and panic in Nazi concentration camps: A biosocial evaluation of the chronic anxiety syndrome. Int. J. Soc. Psychiat., 10(2), 134– 142. TROTTER, W. (1919). Instincts of the Herd in Peace and War. London: Oxford University Press. TURNER, R.H. (1964). Collective behavior. In: Faris, R.E.L. (Ed.), Handbook of Modern Sociology (pp 382–425). Chicago: Rand-McNally. TURNER, R.H. (1967). Types of solidarity in the reconstituting of groups. Pacific Sociol. Rev., 10, 60–68. TYHURST, J.S. (1951). Individual reactions to community disaster. Am. J. Psychiat., 107, 764–769. TYLER, D. (1955). Psychological changes during experimental sleep deprivation. Dis. Nerv. Sys., 16, 293–299. ULRICH, R.E., WOLFF, P.C., and AZRIN, N.H. (1964). Shock as an elicitor of intra- and inter-specific species fighting behavior. Anim. Behav., 12, 4–15. UNITED NATIONS (1997). Impact of armed conflict on children: report of the expert of the secretary-general Ms. G. Machel. New York: Author. USHER, D.R., KASPER, P., and BIRMINGHAM, M.K. (1965). Influences of the Limbic System on Pituitary–Adrenal Function. Paper presented at the meeting of the Canadian Federal Biological Science Association: Ottawa (June). US STRATEGIC BOMBING SURVEY REPORTS. Pacific War: No. 3. The Effects of the Atomic Bombs on Hiroshima and Nagasaki. Washington: Government Printing Office, 1946. VALENSTEIN, E.S., COX, V.C., and KAKOLEWSKI, K.W. (1969). The hypothalamus and motivated behavior. In: Tapp, J.T. (Ed.), Reinforcement and Behavior. London: Academic Press. VALENSTEIN, E.S., COX, V.C., and KAKOLEWSKI, K.W..(1970). Re-examination of the role of the hypothalamus in motivation. Psychol. Rev., 77(1), 16–31. VALENSTEIN, E.S., and VALENSTEIN, T. (1964). Interaction of positive and negative reinforcing neural systems. Science, 145, 1456–1458. VALINS, S. (1967). Emotionality and autonomic reactivity. J. Exp. Res. Pers., 2, 41–48. VALLBONA, C., DESMOND, M.M., RUDOLPH, A.J., PAP, L.F., HILL, R.M., FRANKLIN, R.R., and RUSH, J.B. (1963). Cardiodynamic studies in the newborn. II. Regulation of the heart rate. Biologia Neonatorum, 5, 159–199. VAUGHAN, E., and FISHER, A.E. (1963). Male sexual behavior induced by intracranial electrical stimulation. Science, 137, 758–760.

302


VERNON, K. (1963). Inside the Black Room. New York: Potter. VOTAW, C.L., and LAUER, E.W. (1963). An afferent hippocampal fiber system in the fornix of the monkey. J. Comp. Neurol., 121, 195–206. WALLACE, A.F.C. (1956). Revitalization movements. Am. Anthropologist, 58, 264–281. WALLACE, A.F.C. (1957). Mazeway disintegration: The individual’s perception of socio-cultural disorganization. Human Organization, 16(2), 23ff. WALLER, W.W. (1951). The Family: A Dynamic Interpretation. New York: Dryden. WALSTER, E. (1965). The effect of self-esteem on romantic liking. J. Exp. Soc. Psychol., 1, 184–197. WALSTER, F., and WALSTER, G.W. (1963). Effect of expecting to be liked in choice of associates. J. Abnorm. Soc. Psychol., 67, 402–404. WALTERS, R.H., BOWEN, N.V., and PARKE, R.D. (1964). Percept. Mot. Skills, 18, 469–483. WALTERS, R.H., and KARAL, P. (1960). Social deprivation and verbal behavior. J. Pers., 28, 89–107. WALTERS, R.H., and PARKE, R.D. (1964a). Influence of response consequences to a social model on resistance to deviation. J. Exp. Child Psychol., 1, 269–280. WALTERS, R.H. and PARKE, R.D. (1964b). Social motivation, dependency and susceptibility to social influence. In: Berkowitz, L. (Ed.), Advances in Experimental Social Psychology, Volume I. London: Academic Press. WALTERS, R.H., and RAY, E. (1960). Anxiety, social isolation and reinforcing effectiveness. J. Pers., 28, 358–367. WANG, G.H. (1923). The relation between “spontaneous” activity and estrus cycle in the white rat. Comp. Psychol. Monog., 2, 6. WARD, G.H. (1948). The anterior cingulate gyrus and personality. Res. Public. Assoc. Res. Nerv. Ment. Dis., 27, 438–455. WARREN, J.R. (1963). The Effects of Certain Selection Procedures in Forming a Group of Honor Students. Special Report No. 8, University of Nebraska, Agriculture Experiment Station. WARREN, J.R. (1964). Student Characteristics Associated with Farm and NonFarm Backgrounds. Unpublished report to the Research Council, University of Nebraska. WARREN, J.R. (1966). Birth order and social behavior. Psychol. Bull., 65, 38–49. WASMAN, M., and FLYNN, J.P. (1962). Directed attack elicited from the hypothalamus. Arch. Neurol., 6, 220–227. WEBER, M. (1947). The Theory of Social and Economic Organization. Trans. Henderson, A.M., and Parsons, T. (Ed). New York: Oxford University Press. WEIDMAN, U. (1958). Vehaltenstudien an der Stekento (Anas platyrhynchos L), 11. Zeitz. F. Tierpsychol., 15, 277–300. WEITZMAN, E.D., SCHAUMBERG, H., FISHBEIN, W. (1965). Plasma 17hydroxycorticosteroid levels during sleep in man. J. Clin. Endocrinol. Metab., 26, 121–127. WEYBREW, B.B. (1967). Patterns of psychophysiological response to military stress. In: Appley, M.H., and Trumbull, R. (Eds), Psychological Stress. New York: Appleton-Century-Crofts.

Bibliography

303

WHEATLEY, M.D. (1944). The hypothalamus and affective behavior in cats: a study of the effects of experimental lesions with anatomic correlates. Arch. Neurol. Psychiat. (Chicago), 52, 296–316. WIEPKEMA, P.R. (1961). An ethological analysis of the reproductive behavior of the bitterling. Arch. Neerl. Zool., 14, 103–199. WIESEL, T.N., and HUBEL, D.H. (1963). Effects of visual deprivation on morphology and physiology of cells in the cat’s lateral geniculate body. Single cell responses in striate cortex of kittens deprived of vision in one eye. J. Neurophysiol., 26, 978–993; 1003–1017. WILDER, J. (1967). Stimulus and Response: The Law of Initial Value. Bristol, England: Wright. WILKINS, R.W., and EICHNA, L .W. (1941). Johns Hopkins Hospital Bull., 68, 425. WILLIAMS, R. (1961). The Long Revolution. London: Penguin. WILLMOTT, P., and YOUNG, M. (1960). Family and Class in a London Suburb. London: Routledge and Kegan Paul. WING, J.K. (Ed., 1966) Early Childhood Autism. London: Pergamon Press. WISE, R.A. (1968). Hypothalamic motivational systems: fixed or plastic neural circuits. Science, 162, 377–379. WITTKOWER, E.D., and FRIED, J. (1959). Some problems of transcultural psychiatry. In: Opler, M.K. (Ed.), Cultural and Mental Health. New York: Crowell-Collier and Macmillan. WOHLGEMUT, A. (1919). Pleasure–unpleasure: An experimental investigation on the feeling elements. Br. J. Psychol. Monogr. Suppl., No. 6. WOLF, W. (Ed., 1960). Stress as a cause of disease in man. In: Tanner, J.M. (Ed.), Stress and Psychiatric Disorder. Oxford: Blackwell. WOLF, W. (Ed., 1962). Rhythmic functions in the living system. Ann. N.Y. Acad, Sci., 98. WOLFF, H.S. (1970). Biomedical Engineering. World University Library. London: Weidenfeld and Nicholson. WOLFF, P.H. (1969). The natural history of crying and other vocalizations in early infancy. In: Foss, B.M. (Ed.), Determinants of Infant Behavior, Volume 4. London: Methuen. WOOD, P.G. (1972). The Behavior of People in Fires. Fire Research Note, No. 953. Fire Research Station, Loughborough University of Technology, England. WOODWORTH, R.S. (1948). Dynamics of Behavior. New York: Holt. WOODWORTH, R.S., and SCHLOSBERG, H. (1954). Experimental Psychology. New York: Holt. WOOLFSON, G. (1968). Recent advances in the anxiety states. In: Coppen, A., and Walk, A. (Eds), Recent developments in affective disorders: A symposium. Br. J. Psychiat., Special Publication No. 2. Kent, England: Headley Bros Ltd.. WORLD HEALTH ORGANIZATION (WHO) (1970). Health Aspects of Chemical and Biological Weapons. Geneva, Switzerland: WHO. WORSLEY, P. (1957). The Trumpet Shall Sound: A Study of “Cargo Cults” in Melanesia. London: MacGibbon and Kee. WRIGHTSMAN, L.S. (1960). Effects of waiting with others on changes in felt level of anxiety. J. Abnorm. Soc. Psychol., 61, 216–222.

304


WRIGHTSMAN, L.S. (1968). Part summary. In: Wrightsman, L.S. (Ed.), Contemporary Issues in Social Psychology. Belmont, CA: Brooks-Cole. WYDEN, P. (1984). Day One: Before Hiroshima and After. New York: Simon and Schuster. ZAJONC, R. (1965). Social facilitation. Science, 149, 269–274. ZIGLER, E., and CHILD, I.L. (1969). Socialization. In: Lindzey, G., and Aronson, E. (Eds), Handbook of Social Psychology. New York: Addison-Wesley. ZIMBARDO, P., and FORMICA, R. (1963). Emotional comparison and self-esteem as determinants of affiliation. J. Person. 31, 141–162. ZUCKERMAN, M. (1964). Perceptual isolation as a stressful situation: A review. Arch. Gen. Psychiat., 2, 255–276. ZUCKERMAN, M., LEVINE, S., and BIASE, V. (1964). Stress response in total and partial perceptual isolation. Psychosom. Med., 26(3), 250–260.

Index

Activity drive, 68 Activation theorists, 6,185, 195, 196 Acquisitive panics, 21 Acupuncture, 91 Adrenaline, 41, 42, 62, 127, 134, 247 Adrenocorticotrophic hormone (ACTH), 62, 171, 207, 209 Addictive behaviors, 68 Affiliative behavior, 2, 3, 4, 12, 28, 32, 33, 35, 37, 38, 41, 42, 43, 46, 50, 52, 55, 57, 71, 73, 79, 98, 106, 107, 108, 124, 128, 138, 139, 149, 150, 156, 160, 166, 169, 172, 221, 222, 224, 231, 238, 241, 242, 244, 246, 248, 254, 258 Affiliative choice, 36 Affiliative processes, 12,166 Agitation, 12, 114, 115,116,117 Aggression, 6, 7, 8, 16, 40, 49, 66, 67, 69, 107, 114,121-129,131-139, 156, 182, 187, 195, 197, 199, 201, 206, 208, 221, 225, 227, 236, 254, 257 Alarm, 33, 37, 45-48, 48, 50, 62, 63, 65, 76, 125, 140, 177,193, 229, 238, 245, 246, 257 Amygdala, 70, 201, 202, 204, 206, 226 Apperception, 61 Approach, 67, 71, 77, 83, 86-92, 95-99, 102, 108, 118, 124, 129, 130, 133, 137, 138, 139, 140, 147, 151, 162, 169, 185, 192, 200, 202, 211, 219, 221, 223, 229, 230, 231, 234, 236, 237, 240, 252, 253, 255 Anthrax, 234, 247 Anomie, xiii Anxiety, 6, 7,16, 27-33, 35, 36, 39, 40, 48, 55, 60, 68, 81, 83, 102, 105, 116, 117, 119, 126, 127, 143, 145, 147, 150, 157, 158, 163, 172, 186,188, 189, 220, 226, 235, 242, 243, 248, 249 Anzio beachhead, 93

Arousal, dual system of, 12 Asocial phase of development, 104 Attachment behavior, 109, 125, 132, 161, 225, 230, 237, 238, 241, 242, 243, 244, 251 Attachment formation, theory of, 12, 90, 91 Attending response, 35, 39, 40, 42, 133 Attempted suicide, 117 Audio-visual hallucinations, 48 Autonomic response specificity, 63 Aversion centers in the brain, 96 Basic drives, 107, 121 Behavioral state, 84 Bereavement reactions, 106 Beverly Hills Supper Club fire, 246 Biological purpose, 70 Brain centers, 193, 200 Brown, R., 13, 20-23, 65, 68,151, 202, 236, 251 Bodily contact, 43, 95,106, 107, 137 Bonding, 87, 102 Bunching on the battlefield, 102 Camaraderie, 2,102 Cardiac deceleration, 187, 190, 192, 195, 196, 226 Cataleptic, 7 Clinical psychology, xii Cocoanut Grove nightclub fire, 163, 173 Cognitive dissonance, 56 Cognitive maps, 3, 4, 9, 10, 56, 59, 61, 73-78, 83, 92, 93, 94, 100, 102, 103, 108, 114, 149, 150, 153, 166, 169, 170, 171, 172, 174, 177, 178, 179, 191, 192, 220, 226, 229, 231, 258 Cold stress, 207 Collective behavior, 1, 2, 6, 13, 15, 16, 18, 19, 20, 101, 159, 219, 234, 236, 250, 251 Comatose, 7, 190, 199, 206, 212 Compulsive eating, 12

306


Conditioned emotional responses (CERs), 207 Congruent, 10, 61, 76, 99 Congruity, 4, 57, 61, 71, 73, 94, 95, 96, 99, 100, 102, 109, 114, 150, 169, 170, 173, 192, 230, 231, 258 Congruity-seeking response, 258 Constraint model of social order, 175 Contagion, 18, 156 Control systems, 34, 45 Conversion experiences, 97 Convulsion-like states, 185 Danger, 1, 3, 15, 17, 18, 27, 28, 36, 41, 46, 48, 89, 101 Defense reflex, 64 Dependency, 2, 28, 33-36, 39, 40, 52, 79, 89, 98, 104, 106, 124, 131, 132, 133, 145, 223, 225 Deterioration in cognitive function and personality, 115 Disaster, 16, 17, 19, 33, 55, 60, 93, 102, 104, 109, 144, 151, 158, 162, 164, 172, 174, 222, 233, 233, 234, 237, 239-243, 245, 247-252, 258 Disinhibition hypothesis, 67, 86, 128, 1 29 Displacement activities, 48,49,66,67,73,107, 132,134,195,198,199,254 Dopamine, xv Eating, 7, 9, 12, 48, 49, 50, 67, 69, 70, 101, 104, 106, 107, 121, 125, 126, 127,132, 134, 137, 170, 171, 182, 187, 190, 199, 200, 205, 206, 209, 213, 214, 219, 221, 224, 225, 227, 253-257 Emotional behavior, 6, 7, 8, 12, 13, 113, 140, 166, 182, 197, 253 Emotional-motivational, 122 Entrapment, 16, 17, 20, 22, 155, 157, 233, 234, 235, 236, 245, 246, 250, 251 Escape points, 211 Escape routes,1, 2, 15, 27, 155, 157, 158, 159, 163, 164, 165, 179, 219, 220, 221, 222, 235, 240, 241 Ethics Committee, 38 Evolutionary-adaptive needs, 253 Familiars, 87,141, 238, 242, 244, 251

Fatigue, 6, 16, 18, 33, 45, 48, 58, 125, 163, 180, 188, 189, 238, 239 Feeding centers, 69 Feedback mechanisms, 4, 12, 56, 57, 177, 207 Financial panic, 18, 19 First-born subjects, 30, 35 Fixed action patterns, 70, 71 Flight, 89, 90, 93, 113, 114, 115, 119, 123, 124, 126, 127, 129, 130, 131, 136-139, 144, 147, 149, 150, 151, 153-156, 158-165, 167, 169, 172, 173, 174, 178, 179, 182, 186, 188, 195, 197, 199-202, 205, 206, 208, 213, 214, 217, 219, 221, 222, 224, 225, 226, 230, 231, 233, 234, 235, 236, 237, 238-245, 247, 248, 251, 253, 254, 258 Food deprivation, 67 Foreman, R., 13, 16, 17, 159, 162, 163, 234 Gastrointestinal activity, 11, 203, 226, 228, 256 General Adaptation Syndrome (G.A.S.), 62, 171, 193, 229 Generalized beliefs, 19 Give-up-it-is, 189 Goal-corrected system, 34 Grasp response, 46 Gregariousness, 68 Group cohesiveness, 21 Group dynamics, 149 Group flight, 235 Group norms, conformity to, 103 Group panic, 1, 109, 220 Habituation, 85, 215, 216 Heightened solidarity, 101, 141, 149 Helplessness, 17, 147 Hippocampus, 201, 202, 204, 206, 207, 209, 215, 228 Hobbes, T., 1,167,176 Hobbesian notion, xiii Homeostatic, 1, 2, 4, 56, 58, 63, 73, 96, 114, 139, 169, 177, 230, 231, 258 Homeostatic system, 73, 177, 230, 231, 258 Homicide, 99, 125 Hospitalism, 77, 78 Human cortex, 84

Index Hypothalamus, 9, 12 64, 69, 70, 122, 123, 129, 138, 200, 201, 202, 205-209, 211, 213, 214, 215, 224, 226, 228 dorsal hypothalamic, 70 hypothalamic-pituitary adrenocortical (HPA) system, 247 posterior-lateral hypothalamus, 9, 200, 206 ventromedial hypothalamus, 203, 204, 209, 215, 228 Identification with the aggressor, 96 Identification with culture, 60 Imitation, 42, 79, 81 Immobility, 91, 96, 113, 114, 115, 127, 135, 138, 156, 158, 159, 179, 180,181, 182, 185, 189, 190, 194, 195, 196, 199, 204, 217, 220, 221, 228, 231, 254 Immobility reactions, 113, 135, 179, 180, 181, 195 Impure affects, 127 Imprinting, 83, 86, 88, 89, 92 Incongruity, 10, 11, 12, 57, 59, 61, 62, 64, 65, 67, 73, 78-81, 83, 85, 88-93, 99,113, 138, 139, 149, 150, 152, 160, 169, 170, 171, 172, 173, 177, 178, 179, 181, 186, 187, 189, 190195, 206, 207, 210, 216, 217, 226, 228, 230, 231, 258 Incongruous, 9, 10, 12, 75, 91, 92, 93, 94, 95, 97, 98, 99, 100, 102, 106, 141, 192, 193, 194, 199, 202, 207, 208, 210, 215, 226, 230 Inexperienced mothers, 35 Inhibition, mechanism of, 9 Internal models, 60 Internal norms, breakdown of, 74 Intolerance of outsiders, 104 Intracranial stimulation, 59, 130, 208 Invasion from Mars, 16, 115, 151 Iroquois Theater fire of 1903, 21, 27, 115, 163, 221, 235 Irrelevant activity, 68, 123 Irrelevant behavior, 49 Irrelevant drives, 48, 49, 65-67 Kiss of Judas, 61

307

Lang, K. and G., 17, 187, 220, 238 Lateral inhibition, 9, 10, 91, 100, 109, 192, 193, 216 Leadership, 20, 116, 136, 137, 145, 146, 147, 149, 164, 165, 237, 239 LeBon, G., 6 Libidinal ties, 21, 164, 167, 169 Livingstone, David, 181 Local Adaptation Syndrome (L.A.S.), 171 MacKay, Donald, 9, 59, 61, 62, 91 Marasmus, 189, 194 Mechanical solidarity, 102, 103, 104 Medawar, Peter, 5 Mental model, 4 Messianic movements, 103 Midbrain lesions, 206, 212, 213 Midbrain periventricular system (PVS), 210 Midbrain reticular system, 63 Military leaders, 146 Military panic, 2, 27, 151, 154, 157, 219, 220, 221, 235, 251 Military sociology, xii Millenarian movement, 103 Morale, 118, 141, 143, 144, 145, 149, 165, 172, 238, 239, 240, 252 Moro response, 46 Motivation, categories of, 200, 213 Motivational behavior, 7 ,8, 71, 201, 203, 206, 224, 229 Motivational systems, 4, 7, 106, 253, 254, 257 Motor activity, 7, 12, 64, 173, 181, 188, 192, 194, 195, 199, 202, 203, 208, 214, 217, 227, 229, 256, 257, 258 Need for achievement, 34 Negative-feedback mechanisms, 4, 12, 57, 177, 207 Neural basis of motivation, 69 Neurophysiological deficits, 58, 253 Neurotransmitter systems, 84 Non-adaptive group behavior, 14, 15 Non-nutritional sucking, 34, 45, 46, 47, 48, 50 Non-rational flight, 16 Non-specific behaviors, 7 Non-social flight, 16 Noradrenaline, 127, 186, 228, 229, 247, 257

308


Nuclear bombing, 248 Old Sergeant’s Syndrome, 189 Optimal level of stimulation, 59 Orienting response (OR), 42, 52, 64, 65, 66, 84, 85, 108, 196, 197, 217, 218 Organized group, 13, 17 Orgy, 101 Orson Welles’ broadcast, 16, 115 Oxytocin, 90, 226, 247 P-system activation, 217, 228, 231 Pain centers, 130 Pan, 68 Panic, theories of, 2, 12, 164, 167, 179 Parasympathetic effects, 190, 200, 201, 203, 204, 208, 212, 213, 228 Parsons, Talcott, 1, 2, 19, 20 Passive avoidance deficit, 12, 215, 216 Passive avoidance learning, 215 Pathological bravery, 113, 119, 136, 137, 153, 222 Payoff matrix, 21, 22 Perception, 108, 114, 115, 116, 126, 156, 159, 161, 237, 242 Perceptual differentiation, 87, 88, 108 Peripheral receptors, 86, 102, 173, 192, 197, 198, 227, 254, Persecution, 102, 119 Physiological arousal, 8, 33, 35, 38, 40, 48, 52, 55, 57, 62, 81, 113, 169, 190, 225 Physiological needs, 253 Pleasure centers, 211 Post-flight let-down, 188, 217 Post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD), 249 Positive feedback, 202, 210, 211, 212 Practical implications, xi President Kennedy, 32 Primary drives, 12, 66, 68, 79, 107, 108, 132, 171, 254 Primary group, 17, 21, 141, 142, 172, 239, 245, 246, 251 Primary group ties, 17 Prisoners’ Dilemma, 21, 22, 23, 24 Prosocial conception of man, 1, 175 Protection from predators, 45, 47, 48, 49, 51, 52, 161 Protest stage of separation, 124 Psychopathic personality, 215

Psychological salience, 56, 59, 60, 62, 73, 170, 231 Psychophysiology, 56, 84 Psychology, 6, 8, 10, 14, 21, 37, 40, 46, 57, 64, 67, 106, 108, 127, 164, 176, 181, 187, 219, 253, 254, 257 Punishment, 2, 87, 88-92, 95, 96, 98, 99, 108, 109, 131, 142, 223 Purposive behavior, 19 Quarantelli, E., 6, 13, 16, 17, 113, 155, 158162, 167, 174, 220, 234-238, 249 Rapid Eye Movement (REM) sleep, 48, 63, 84, 204 Rebound P.N.S. arousal, 191 Rebound phenomenon, 196, 203 Reciprocal inhibition, 92, 193, 204, 230 Reticular formation, 64, 65, 88, 206 Revitalization movements, 103 S-system,10, 200, 201, 205, 210, 211, 212, 213, 215, 216, 217, 220, 226-231, 254-258 Salience, 3, 56, 59, 60, 62, 73, 170, 231 Satiety center, 209 Schultz, D., 13, 20, 21, 113, 145, 157, 163, 164, 167, 169, 174, 219, 220,235, 238, 240, 241 Self-concept, 4, 56, 57, 74, 105 Self-evaluation, 29, 30, 31, 40, 41, 42 Self-evaluation drive, 40 Self-equilibrating system, 4 Self-interest, 165, 176, 177 Self-mutilation, 66, 68, 92, 107, 117, 127, 131, 136, 137, 223 Self-regulating system, 31, 166 Sensation-seeking, 68 Sensory deprivation, 55, 58, 59, 68, 74, 79, 80, 88, 93, 97, 115, 116, 157, 188, 220, 253 Sensory feedback, inhibition by, 9-12, 78, 187, 192, 196, 199, 207, 225, 230 Sensory stimulation, 4, 9, 10, 50, 51, 52, 58-61, 64, 65, 66, 69, 70, 71, 73, 78, 83, 85, 91, 92, 94, 97, 102, 107, 108, 137, 181, 187, 192, 198, 199, 201, 207, 208, 210, 213, 215, 216, 220, 227, 228, 254, 255, 256, 258

Index Sensory overload, 59 Separation, threat of, 2, 27, 150, 241 Separation panic, 2 September 11, 2001, 234, 246 Septo-hipppocampal stimulation, 207 Septum, 200, 203, 204, 205, 206, 208, 209, 211, 212, 215, 228 Set goal, 34, 45 Sex, 7, 8, 30, 37, 40, 46, 68, 77, 107, 121124, 128, 130, 131, 133, 134, 138, 200, 208, 221, 225, 253, 254, 257 Situational response specificity, 63 Significant others, 258 Sleep, 48, 63, 65, 84, 116, 188, 190, 199, 203, 204, 228, Smelser, Neil, 1, 2, 6, 13, 18, 19, 20, 76, 145, 151, 155, 156, 158, 159, 161, 162, 164, 165, 166, 169, 172, 235, 236, 237 Smelser’s theory of panic, 70 Social attachment (affiliative) model of group behavior, 245 Social attachment, 98, 100, 172, 233, 234, 245, 247, 250, 251, 252 Social context, 4, 98, 140, 141, 147, 169, 172, 175, 229, 233, 234, 239, 242, 244, 251 Social comparison theory, 30 Social drives, 79 Social environment, 19, 20, 57, 159 Social psychology, 21, 46, 167 Social norms, 17, 27, 37, 42, 103, 237, 258 Social reinforcement, 34, 79, 306 Social disorganization, xiii Social order, constraint model of, 175 Social relations, Hobbesian view of, 3 Sociological theory, 5, 18 Solitary confinement, 74, 75, 97 Schachter, Stanley, 28 Stress, 6, 7, 8, 10, 12, 13, 21, 31-37, 48-50, 55, 56, 62, 63, 65, 75-79, 89, 93, 101, 102, 103, 105, 109, 114, 117, 127, 140, 147, 149, 153, 160, 161, 181, 185-189, 196, 197, 198, 207, 219, 222, 224, 239, 240, 244, 247, 248, 249, 250, 251, 252 Stressors, 12, 55, 61, 62, 63, 80, 101, 207, 195, 225, 226, 229 Stress reactions, 55,117, 246, 248

309

Stimulation-avoidance behavior, 179, 217, 219 Stimulation-seeking behaviors, 51, 64, 65, 70, 92, 94, 99, 107, 117, 121, 124, 135, 139, 173, 190, 206, 214, 215, 219, 230 Stupor, 16, 119, 163, 181, 189, 190, 199 Susceptibility to social influence, 40, 46, 73, 79, 80, 81, 97, 114, 115, 149 Sympathetic nervous system (S.N.S.), 41, 64, 127, 188, 192, 196, 201 Syndrome of behavioral deficits, 206 Tactile aspect of affiliative behavior, 43 Tactile contact, 43, 52 Tactile discrimination, 197 Temporal patterning of events, 187 Temporal patterning of stress, 188 Threat, 27, 28, 32, 39, 102, 104, 105, 130, 143, 150, 151, 152, 154-159, 161, 162-165, 174, 179, 181, 219-221, 233-235, 237, 239, 241-245, 247, 248, 249, 251, 252, 258 Titanic, 23, 143, 158, 220 Trans-marginal inhibition, 185 Triggering event, 27 Tropism, 64, 198, 200, 226, 254 Unstable reward structure, 14, 21 Value-added, 19, 155 Value-judgment, 34, 133 Variable-interval schedule, 69 Vasoconstriction, 62, 63, 126, 171, 187, 188, 193, 201, 229 Vasopressin, 90, 226 Vietnam War, 119, 141 Visual deprivation, 58 Voodoo Death, 189 Weapons of mass destruction, 233, 234 Wild running, 2, 12, 91, 113, 114, 117, 135, 137, 173, 182 Withdrawal, 17, 28, 88, 89, 90, 95, 96, 98, 108, 127, 129, 130, 152, 189, 190, 194 W.I. Thomas’ dictum, 16 What-is-it reflex, 64 World Trade Center and Pentagon, 234, 247

Mass Panic and Social Attachment

Panic

Panic

Panic!

Panic

Mass Imprisonment: Social Causes and Consequences

An Unsuitable Attachment

Attachment: Second Edition (Attachment and Loss Series, Vol 1)

Don't Panic

Odd Attachment

A Short Introduction to Attachment and Attachment Disorder

Blind Panic

Don't Panic

Panic Signs

Market Panic

John Bowlby and Attachment Theory

John Bowlby and Attachment Theory

Don't Panic

Blind Panic

Dont Panic

Panic diaries: a genealogy of panic disorder

Loss: Sadness And Depression (Attachment and Loss)

An Unsuitable Attachment

Drupal 6 Attachment Views

Attachment Narrative Therapy

Profit From The Panic

The Panic Zone

The Panic Zone

Mass Panic and Social Attachment

Panic

Panic

Panic!

Panic

Mass Imprisonment: Social Causes and Consequences

An Unsuitable Attachment

Attachment: Second Edition (Attachment and Loss Series, Vol 1)

Don't Panic

Odd Attachment

A Short Introduction to Attachment and Attachment Disorder

Blind Panic

Don't Panic

Panic Signs

Market Panic

John Bowlby and Attachment Theory

John Bowlby and Attachment Theory

Don't Panic

Blind Panic

Dont Panic

Panic diaries: a genealogy of panic disorder

Loss: Sadness And Depression (Attachment and Loss)

An Unsuitable Attachment

Drupal 6 Attachment Views

Attachment Narrative Therapy

Profit From The Panic

The Panic Zone

The Panic Zone

Recommend Documents