Part IV: Values

Large file: Patience please

Coping and change can be accomplished through intrapersonal communication. Extensive research has been conducted related to the use of intrapersonal communication as a way of changing the self, changing behaviors, and coping. These articles examine several perspectives, including some spiritual implications of the intrapersonal communication process.

Communication and the Development of Self (Renee Edwards)

Imaging on the Go (Richard L. Weaver II and Howard W. Cotrell)

A Hierarchical Model Of Message Selection: The Filtering Affects Of Emotional Response (Larry R. Vinson) 

"How Embarrassing:" Intrapersonal Coping Mechanisms (Audra L. Colvert)

Cognitive Structuring for Uncertainty Reduction: Invariants Under Transformation (Maurine Eckloff)

Contemplation: The Art of Intrapersonal Communication (Tom Bruneau)

Intrapersonal Communication and Meditation (Thomas Baglan)

Indian Thought and the Intrapersonal Consequences of Speaking: Implications for Ethics in Communication (William Kirkwood)

Thinking About God: A Cognitive Science Perspective (Dale E. Gauthreaux)

 

Communication and the Development of Self

Renee Edwards

About the Author: Renee Edwards is a member of the faculty of the Department of Speech Communication, Louisiana State University, Baton Rouge, LA 70803-3923, telephone (504) 388-6821. An earlier version of this paper was delivered at the 1993 meeting of the Speech Communication Association.

Abstract: This chapter reports a research project that examined communication factors that influence the development of self-concept. Impression management theory postulates that an individual's sense of self is a function of interactions with others. Hence, the type and number of communicative experiences experienced throughout childhood and adolescence should be related to the differentiation of self. However, too many experiences may restrict the development of self by preventing the individual from creating a core definition of self on which to build. Results of a study reveal that self-differentiation is positively associated with intimacy with extended family and continuity of childhood friendships, and negatively associated with family moves and school moves.


Perspective:

1. This article identifies some "variables" associated with self-differentiation, such as family moves and feeling close to relatives. What other kinds of childhood and adolescent experiences and communication are probably associated with greater self-differentiation?

2. This author proposes that a stable or core sense of self must exist before self-differentiation can occur. What are some characteristics of a "core sense of self"?

3. Based on this research, what should parents do (or not do) to enhance the self-differentiation of their children?

 

The notions of self and self-concept have permeated theory and research in communication (Greene & Geddes, 1988). Roberts, Edwards, and Barker (1987) discuss the self-concept as the center point from which all communication radiates. The self is the environment in which intrapersonal communication occurs (Barker & Edwards, 1980). These theorists propose that characteristics of the self influence the perceptions, cognitions and emotions that construct an individual's communicative actions.

Other researchers have extensively examined the consequences of features of the self on interpersonal communication. Communication apprehension (McCroskey & Richmond, 1987), interaction involvement (Cegala, 1981; Cegala, Savage, Brunner, & Conrad, 1982), and cognitive complexity (Burleson, 1987) are a few of the characteristics that have been shown to influence an individual's communicative skill as well as choice of communication partner or strategy. The lines of research concerning the "personality" features of self provide strong support for the argument that individual characteristics influence communication behavior.

Theorists and researchers concerned with the concept of self generally agree that most animals lack a notion of self (Gallup & Suarez, 1986); this conclusion is drawn largely from mirror recognition studies. These studies reveal, for example, that birds attack their reflections whereas other animals generally ignore theirs. Higher order primates, on the other hand, recognize themselves in mirrors. Chimpanzees learn to use mirrors for grooming purposes (Gallup & Suarez, 1986). Comparable research with human children has found that infants generally do not recognize themselves until eight to twelve months of age (Lewis, 1986). Lewis and Brooks-Gunn (1979) found no relationship between the age of self-recognition and sex, amount of experience with mirrors, socio-economic status, maternal education, birth order, or number of siblings. However, they did find that children who are insecurely attached to their mothers recognize themselves at an earlier age than children who are securely attached. This suggests that the development of self (as measured by self-recognition) may be influenced by very early social relationships.

Self-concept develops throughout childhood and adolescence in extensiveness and complexity (Rosenberg, 1986). Very young children know whether they are male or female, but think that they can be the other when they grow up. Grade school children describe themselves in terms of concrete characteristics ("Celeste is my friend") whereas teenagers include abstract characteristics in their self-descriptions (e.g., honesty, friendliness).

Researchers from several perspectives have investigated the role of self for adults. Research has been concerned with how an individual's self is used to process information, with "personality" variables associated with various dimensions of self, with how dimensions of self influence communication and interpersonal relations, and with the processes by which an individual develops a self.

Research by Markus (1977, 1983; Markus & Smith, 1981) has examined how dimensions of self-concept are used to process information. Markus argues that individuals are "schematic" for particular traits that they perceive themselves to possess and which are important for them. For example, a man who is schematic for creativity is one who describes himself as "creative" and who rates creativity as being an important characteristic of himself. Another individual who perceives herself as creative but does not regard it as an important trait is not schematic for creativity. Markus' research has revealed that individuals who are schematic for a trait process relevant information more efficiently than individuals who are not relevant for that trait.

The interpersonal and communicative implications of self-concept have also been investigated. Ziller, Martell, and Morrison (1977) developed a notion of self-complexity, defined as the degree of differentiation of the self-concept. They argued that persons with complex self-concepts are multifaceted; they possess many characteristics that are important to them. As a result, complex individuals are more likely to be able to match a characteristic from their self-concept to a characteristic of another person and, consequently, they should be perceived more positively by others. Ziller and colleagues conducted two studies that supported this relationship. One study found a positive correlation between complexity and a self-report of social identification for college students. Another study examined popular and unpopular sixth-graders; this study strongly supported the hypothesisó results revealed that 49 out of 50 children could be correctly classified as popular or not based on their complexity score.

The communication effects of self-concept have also been examined in relationship to personal narratives. M. Shaw (1993) gave subjects a list of adjectives and asked them to check those that describe them. The subjects then told a story that was coded for the features of self-concept that it presented. M. Shaw found that the stories matched the subjects' own self-descriptions more than they matched the self-descriptions of composite targets and randomly selected subjects.

Finally, other research has examined the processes associated with the development of self. This research has generally been rooted in impression management theory and the notion that interactions with others form a basis for developing a sense of self. Mead (1934) described the development of self as part of a process of distinguishing between the self and others. Cooley (1902) proposed the concept of "looking-glass self," arguing that sense of self is derived from perceiving the self through the eyes of others.

As part of their research on complexity, Ziller et al. (1977) compared students with speech and hearing impairments to control students; they also compared terminally ill and chronically ill patients. They predicted that reduced social interaction for the impaired and terminally ill subjects would be associated with less complexity; results supported the predictions. In another test of self-development, Edwards (1990) examined the relationship between sensitivity to feedback and self-schematicism. Sensitivity to feedback is a "personality" dimension that concerns an individual's attentiveness to the feedback received from others. Self-schematicism was defined as the degree to which individuals rate personal traits as important to their sense of self. This research found a positive relationship between the variables and concluded that self-schematicism was a result of sensitivity to feedback.

The results of these investigations and impression management theory suggest that the quantity of interaction is an important factor determining the degree of self-development or differentiation. However, Leahy (1985) has argued that the role-taking that accompanies extensive social interaction may have a negative effect on personality in two ways. First, role-taking leads to the awareness of the self as an object in others' thoughts; this may lead to heightened self-consciousness particularly for adolescents. Second, role-taking permits an individual to focus on how the self does not "measure up" to one's own (or others') expectations or standards. Research suggests that higher intelligence, increasing age, and greater social competence are associated with a greater disparity between real and ideal self-image (Leahy, 1985). This argument suggests that extensive interaction may be disruptive to the development of self by preventing an individual from developing a core definition of self. Without a core sense of self, an individual may experience confusion or inconsistency with the peripheral features of self.

Current theory on childhood development assumes the notion that a stable and secure childhood is essential for proper development (Sigel, 1987). However, Peters and Kontos (1987) note that the importance of continuity has not been examined in the literature. At the family level, specific types of consistency that have received some consideration include consistency between attitudes and behaviors of parents (Palkovitz, 1987), consistency between father behaviors and mother behaviors (Palkovitz, 1987), and consistency of care between home and daycare (Long & Garduque, 1987). Other research has examined divorce as a disruptive event in childhood and its effect on development. Allison and Fursterberg (1989) found that children who are younger when their parents divorce suffer more negative effects.

The purpose of this study was to examine these issues by considering childhood and adolescent experiences and their effect on the self-concepts of young adults. Specifically, this research attempted to identify experiences and features of childhood and adolescence (e.g., family moves, school changes, relationships with relatives) that may be associated with greater or less self-differentiation in young adults.

Methods and Procedures

Subjects were 109 students under the age of 30 enrolled in communication classes at a large Southern university. The sample was 63% male and 37% female; the average age was 20.7 (s.d. = 2.01). Approximately 14% were freshmen, 28% sophomores, 29% juniors, and 30% seniors.

Subjects completed a five-page questionnaire during class time. Part 1 of the questionnaire requested information concerning social relationships: number of siblings, marital status of parents, closeness to other relatives, number of family moves, job status of mothers, number of times they switched schools, participation in school activities (measured with three items; Cronbach's alpha = .85), size of high school, television viewing, hobbies (measured with two items; Pearson r = .70), work experience (measured with two items; Pearson r = .53), and dating experience (measured with two items; Pearson r = .52).

Part 2 of the questionnaire assessed self-differentiation using the complexity scale (Ziller et al., 1977). This scale lists 109 adjectives and requests respondents to check all those that describe the self. The complexity score is the total number of adjectives checked. This measure is based on the notion that individuals who are more complex will describe themselves as possessing a greater number of characteristics. Consequently, it appears to tap a "breadth" dimension of the self-concept. Subjects in the present study selected an average of 34.50 adjectives to describe themselves using this instrument (s.d. = 14.24).

Part 3 of the questionnaire assessed self-differentiation using a version of the self-schematicism scale (Edwards, 1990). This scale uses a semantic differential format and requests respondents to rate themselves on 23 adjective pairs. Following each adjective pair, the subject is also asked to rate how important that particular characteristic is to the self-concept on a 9-point scale. The importance ratings are averaged to provide a measure of self-schematicism (Cronbach's alpha = .82 for the present study). This measure is based on Markus's (1977) notion that a self-definitional trait must be perceived as important in order to be considered schematic to the self. Consequently, this measure may tap a "depth" dimension of self-differentiation. The mean response in the present study was 6.43 (s.d. = .88).

Results

Social Relationships

The average number of siblings was 2.45 (s.d. = 2.03). The parents of 26% of the subjects were divorced, and subjects ranged from 1 to 19 years old when their parents divorced (M = 9.15, s.d. = 5.78). Thirty-three per cent of the subjects had a "second" family they spent time with. Forty-three percent felt close to 0-3 relatives; 32% felt close to 4-9 relatives; 13% felt close to 10-15 relatives; and 12% felt close to more than 15 relatives. Their families had not moved for about 50% of the sample; half of the remaining subjects had moved only once or twice. Sixty-two percent of the sample had mothers who worked outside the home. The average number of times that subjects had switched schools was 3.50 (s.d. = 2.00); this includes moving up from elementary to secondary school. Over 40% of the sample attended church regularly or often (answering 7 on a 7-point scale), with the remaining spread fairly evenly across the rest of the scale.

Relationships Between Self-Differentiation and Social Characteristics

The correlation between the two measures of self-differentiation, Ziller and colleagues' complexity scale and Edwards' self-schematicism scale, was .39 (p < .01) (because of the exploratory nature of the research, this and all remaining probability values are for two-tailed tests).

Self-Complexity. Self-complexity, as measured by the Ziller and colleagues scale, was positively correlated with the number of relatives the subjects felt close to (r = .23; p < .05) and with the extent to which subjects pursued hobbies they did alone (r = .38; p < .01). Complexity was not correlated with age, family size, number of family moves, number of schools attended, amount of TV viewing, age at which parents were divorced, amount of dating, activities, amount of work experiences, continuity of childhood friendships, or church attendance.

Males and females were not significantly different (t = -1.31, p > .10; Male M = 33.49; Female M = 37.15), but freshmen and seniors scored lower on self-complexity than sophomores and juniors in an analysis of class standing (F (3, 104) = 3.51, p < .02; Freshmen M = 32.53, s.d. = 13.90, n = 15; Sophomore M = 38.40, s.d. = 14.71, n = 30; Junior M = 38.19, s.d. = 12.59, n = 31; and Senior M = 28.78, s.d. 13.73, n = 32). Subjects who had a second family they felt close to scored significantly higher on self-complexity than those who did not (t = 2.65, p < .01; Yes M = 40.00, s.d. = 15.01, n = 34; No M = 31.96, s.d. = 13.33, n = 68.) Subjects with married parents were not significantly different from those with divorced parents, although the means are in the direction of greater complexity for those with married parents (t = .98, p > .30; Married M = 35.31, s.d. = 14.72, n = 78; Divorced M = 32.39, s.d. = 12.95, n = 28). Subjects whose mothers worked outside the home while they were growing up did not differ from those whose mothers did not (t = .70, p > .40; Yes M = 35.22, s.d. = 15.05, n = 68; No M = 33.31, s.d. = 12.88; n = 41).

Self-schematicism. Self-schematicism, as measured by the Edwards (1990) scale, was negatively correlated with the number of times the family had moved (r = -.27, p < .01), with the number of times subjects had changed schools (r = -.26; p < .01), and with the subjects' age at which their parents were divorced (r = -.46, p < .05). Schematicism was positively correlated with subjects' amount of dating (r = .21, p < .05), with how regularly they attended church (r = .25, p < .01), and with the degree of continuity they ascribed to their childhood (r = .20, p < .05; greater continuity of friendships was positively correlated with schematicism). No correlations were found for the relationships between schematicism and family size, age, number of relatives subjects felt close to, amount of television viewing, hobbies, activities, or work experience.

Females were significantly more schematic than males (t = -2.65, p < .01; Female M = 6.73, s.d. = .83, n = 36; Male M = 6.25, s.d. = .89, n = 62), but class standing did not affect schematicism (F (3, 99) = .17; p > .50). Subjects with "second families" were not more schematic than those without, although the means were in the same direction as for the significant difference for complexity (t = 1.32, p > .19; With M = 6.58, s.d. = .86, n = 31; Without M = 6.33, s.d. = .89, n = 66). Subjects with married and divorced parents did not differ (t = .62, p > .50; Married M = 6.46, s.d. = .83, n = 76; Divorced M = 6.33, s.d. = 1.01; n = 25), nor did those with working and nonworking mothers (t = .61, p > .50; Working M = 6.47, s.d. = .86, n = 64; Non-working M = 6.36, s.d. = .92, n = 40).

Canonical Correlation

A canonical correlation was performed between the two measures of self-differentiation and the childhood experiences that were measured at the interval level. The canonical correlation was significant (Hotellings = .60, approximate F = 2.03, p < .005). The social characteristics that most strongly correlated with the canonical variable were age (with a correlation of -.40 with the canonical variable), school moves (r = -.34), church attendance (r = .45), tv (r = -.25), continuity of friendships (r = .32), activities (r = .57), hobbies (r = .55), and dating (r = .39).

Discussion

The present research reveals some intriguing insights into the relationship between childhood or adolescent experiences and self-differentiation. Self-complexity and self-differentiation were only somewhat correlated and were, in general, related to different childhood and adolescent experiences. Complexity, as measured by the Ziller and colleagues scale (1977), was positively associated with the number of relatives subjects felt close to, their pursuit of hobbies, and having a second family. Freshmen and seniors scored lower on complexity than sophomores and juniors. Self-schematicism, measured by the Edwards (1990) scale, was positively associated with dating, church attendance, and amount of continuity associated with childhood friendships. It was negatively associated with age at which parents were divorced, number of family moves, and number of school changes. Females were more self-schematic than males.

Several factors may account for the relationship between complexity and self-schematicism. Both purport to measure self-differentiation, but they possess a low correlation and are associated with different clusters of social variables. One possibility is that they both tap self-differentiation, but for different domains of personal characteristics. Each measure asks subjects to respond to a list of adjectives that could describe them. The complexity scale lists 109 adjectives and the schema scale lists 23 adjective pairs (adjectives and their polar opposites such as "liberal-conservative"). The lists do not overlap substantiallyó only four of the 46 adjectives on the self-schema scale appear among the 109 adjectives of the complexity scale. In addition, neither list includes characteristics that may be important for many individuals (e.g., athletic, religious). If this explanation is valid, a linear combination of the two variables would be a better measure of differentiation than would either variable individually. This was tested with the canonical correlation. The canonical correlation revealed correlations with some variables that overlapped with the univariate correlations. In addition, it revealed correlations with tv viewing, activities, and age; none of these were identified by the univariate tests. This result supports the notion that a linear combination of self-complexity and self-schematicism may be a better measure of self-differentiation than either variable individually.

Another possibility is that the variables may also tap some other dimension of self, such as self-esteem. Both measures have been used successfully in previous research, but there is a greater body of research to support the validity of the complexity scale. Only one study has supported the predictive validity of the self-schematicism scale. Both measures have face validity, but the complexity scale is substantially easier for subjects to complete. The self-schematicism scale is more complicated; subjects must make two ratings for each characteristic (one concerning how true it is of them; the second concerning how important it is to their sense of self). This complex procedure may be advantageous in that respondents must think more deeply about themselves. In the present study, complexity was associated with fewer of the childhood and adolescent experiences than was self-schematicism. In the present study, self-schematicism was correlated with more experiences, and thus may possess greater predictive value. However, this conclusion is moderated by the specific findings of the present study.

The findings suggest that stability of childhood experiences was more associated with schematicism than were varied social experiences. Greater continuity in childhood friendships, regular church attendance, having parents divorce at an older age, few family moves, and few school changes were associated with greater schematicism. The correlation with dating may even reflect stability; the items on the questionnaire addressed amount of dating experience but not variety or stability of partners. Subjects who dated a lot may have had only one or two "serious" boy or girlfriends rather than a variety of romantic partners. The comparison of High and Low differentiated groups parallels the finding that greater stability is associated with greater differentiation.

The conclusion that differentiation is more associated with stability than with the variety of social experience raises several issues. The first is that schematicism and complexity may not be measures of self-differentiation, as discussed earlier. Symbolic interaction theory would predict that greater variety would be associated with greater differentiation, not the opposite. A second possibility is that current or recent experiences are more important in predicting self-differentiation than are childhood experiences. Thus the present study found that complexity was not correlated with many childhood experiences, but was correlated with the number of close relatives, with having a second family, and with class standing. The lives of sophomores and juniors may call for greater differentiation than the lives of freshmen and seniors. Subjects who felt close to more relatives or who had a second family in childhood may continue those relationships and present different "selves" in them.

A third possibility is that there is a moderating variable attenuating the relationship between childhood experiences and self-differentiation. This variable may relate to having a core sense of self, knowing oneself, or feeling that one has a "true" self. The core self may be the foundation necessary for differentiation, and it may result from a stable, predictable childhood. This possibility is certainly consistent with childhood development theory which emphasizes the importance of secure relationships in childhood (Peters & Kontos, 1987). These secure relationships, followed by a variety of social experiences, may be the foundation for a successfully differentiated self.

References

Response from Leonard J. Shedletsky

Considering that the self and self-concept have been so central in intrapersonal communication theory, it is striking to note that the construct under study here, differentiation of self, is far from well understood. As the author points out, two measures of self-differentiationó complexity and self-schematismó have a low correlation. The reasons for this finding remain speculative. Hence, one must wonder why intrapersonal communication theory persists in maintaining that the self and self concept are central to intrapersonal communication.

 

Imaging On The Go

Richard L. Weaver II and Howard W. Cotrell

About the Authors: Richard L. Weaver II (Ph. D., Indiana University, 1969) is a professor of Interpersonal Communication at Bowling Green State University. His publications include 30 books (including all editions), 100 articles, a dozen chapters, and ten speeches in print. His books Communicating Effectively (with Saundra Hybels) and Understanding Interpersonal Communication are among the most popular in their respective areas. Howard W. Cotrell (M. S., Purdue University, 1967) is an associate professor and Assistant Director for Instructional Development in Instructional Media Services at Bowling Green. With Richard L. Weaver II, he has written and published more than thirty-five articles in the area of instructional communication and instructional development.

Abstract: To image is to create a material picture in the mind which can be scanned by a person as she or he would scan a real current event in her or his environment. Imaging has numerous functions. Some of these include doing it for fun and flexibility, for aesthetic awareness, to tune in, for evaluating, to make improvements, for basic enlightenment, or for synergistic consciousness. Five suggestions are included that may help increase imaging skills. It is not a special, unique, or extraordinary procedure involving relaxation, technical preparation, or meditation. It can be practiced daily in all situations we encounter.

Perspective:

1. On what human characteristics is our ability to image based? Why can some people image more easily than others? Are there differences between men and women in their ability to image? Why or why not?

2. Are the suggestions for increasing imaging ability reasonable and practical? What advantages are there in increasing one's imaging ability?

 

The problem was an ugly, odd-shaped set tub in a downstairs bathroom. To cover it required envisioning a box shape and mentally enclosing the bottom, much like a vanity, putting a door in the front to hide the pipes below the tub and for a place to hide pails, sponges, and cleaning fluids. The top required picturing the top of the box hinged at the back to cover the entire sink and faucet handles and yet easy to lift and lower as needed. When lowered, the top provided a surface to place toilet articles, towels for showering, and clothes. It was the image of the completed work that motivated the construction and that resulted in the finished product.

In another situation, authors were having difficulty coming up with ideas for an article. They left the computer, went to town, and wandered the isles of a hardware store. There, they searched their new surroundings for everything that struck them as unique, personally meaningful, or interesting. With their minds open to new sensations and stimulations, they were able to allow the colors, shapes, textures, and patterns to provoke, even entice, their thinking. Ideas flowed.

When leaving home to run a number of errands, the driver mentally plotted the route she would take as she drove from the driveway. Since she needed gas and money to run the other errands, she made the gas station and bank early stops; thus, these places provided the initial direction. Then it was a matter of determining the relationship of the other places we needed to go and how they were most efficiently interconnected by car.

In each of these cases, imaging was used to create a mental picture of the structure, the ideas stimulated, or the map that was followed. The first example about the set tub, although mundane and commonplace by comparison, is not unlike the imaging by F. K. von Stradonitz just before and during the illumination that led to the structure of the carbon ring, which became the foundation of organic chemistry:

I turned my chair to the fire and dozed. Again the atoms were gamboling before my eyes. The smaller groups kept modestly in the background. My mental eye, rendered more acute by visions of this kind, could now distinguish larger structures of manifold conformations, long rows sometimes more closely fitted together, all twining and twisting in snake-like motion. But look! What was that? One of the snakes had seized hold of its tail and the form whirled mockingly before my eyes. As if by a flash of lightning I awoke. (von Stradonitz cited in Koestler, 1964, p. 118)

The second example above, about picking up ideas by walking through a hardware store, is similar to one that Alex Osborn relates in his book, Applied Imagination (1963):

If you know what ideas you are hunting, a lonely walk may help a lot. But if you have no set creative aim, and want only to expose your mind to ideas, a walk through busy marts may . . . help. I asked a friend of mine why he wore a cane when visiting New York. 'I come to New York to get ideas,' said he, 'I don't want to think about my own business while here, so I carry a cane to make me feel that I am not working. My grindstone back home tends to close my mind. Here, with wide-open mind, I can walk along Fifth Avenue and Broadway and can pick up ideas which will help me when I discard my cane and become a manufacturer again (p. 222).

The third example above, mapping out a strategy and then following it, is not unlike the pre-planning reported in Time magazine (1984). According to the article, Sheriff Johnny France went after Don and Dan Nichols, wanted for the July, 1984, kidnapping of Kari Swenson, a member of the U. S. biathlon team. The Nichols had eluded lawmen in the remote Montana wilderness near Bozeman. Sheriff France admitted that imaging had taken place prior to the pursuit. Following the capture he said, "I had rehearsed this capture for a long time. I had dreamed of it, and everything I did was just as if I'd been there before" (Time, 1984, p. 21).

The point of these examples is not in their uniqueness but in their familiarity. We image like this a great deal. It is commonplace, comfortable, and natural.

In the following pages we will first define imaging. Second, we will discuss its function as an ongoing, omnipresent, practical tool for coping with everyday events and situations. Finally, we will offer suggestions for expanding the use of imaging-on-the-go to gain further insights and stimulation.

Definition

The word eidetic comes from the Greek word eidetikos, constituting a figure, from eidos meaning what is seen or the shape of something. Eidetic, then, designates mental images that are unusually vivid and almost photographically exact (Webster's, 1983, p. 580). This definition indicates why the eidetic image offers, perhaps, the most complete foundation for understanding and using the imaging process.

Ahsen's work on eidetics provides an excellent orientation as well as a more concrete definition than the one offered above. In "Eidetics: An Overview," (1977), Ahsen states that the eidetic image is "a material picture in the mind which can be scanned by the person as he [or she] would scan a real current event in his [or her] environment, and as a potent, highly significant stimulus which arises from within the mind and throws it into a series of self-revealing imagery effects" (p. 5). Notice how Ahsen blends the physical and mental, which is also highlighted in his Triple Code or ISM Model of imagery: I (imagery); S (somatic response); M (meaning) (See Ahsen, 1984 for a fuller discussion). Ahsen's is a holistic concept of imaging. For our purposes, his main contribution is pointing out that our ability to mentally reproduce images with such a high degree of sensory realism allows us to interact with them as if they were real objects.

In Imagery and Creative Imagination, Khatena (1984) further explains the eidetic image:

Other attributes [of the eidetic image] are its emerging more clearly during alert consciousness and amendable to voluntary control, healthy orientation, depth of meaning, stability and tendency towards a systematic profession of experience relevant to the central nucleus of the image, as more details appear with repetition of the eidetic. Furthermore, its spatial nature progresses to create thought. (pp. 12-13)

Because it is unlikely we will be able to separate the different kinds of imaging when they occur, and because they are likely to overlap and interact, we will briefly mention two other types of imaging and several subtypes. (Khatena, 1984, pp. 12-14) Memory imaging involves retrieving from storage images associated with the past or present or even anticipated future events and experiences, thoughts, and actions. Memory images are vivid and controllable. Imagination imaging involves images that are novel, substantial, brightly colored, and sharp. Usually they have no particular context, occasion, or personal reference.

Imagination imaging has been described by a number of different terms. Hypnogogic imaging may occur in the twilight state between wakefulness and sleep. Hypnopompic imaging may occur in the drowsy state between sleeping and waking. Creative imaging is that usually experienced by artists, poets, scientists, and other productive people. We are dealing with auditory and visual imagery, but we do not exclude the other sensory images or emotional imagery as well. All imaging has value, but its value is likely to be personal just as its rewards are likely to be different according to those who use it.

Functions

Clearly, this section could be limitless with respect to the functions of imaging because it is a personal process and is likely to serve as many purposes as those who practice and use it. Our point is more than simply suggestive. Our point is that effective imaging does not require relaxation, meditation, extensive practice, or the use of sophisticated and complex processes for effectiveness. We are not saying that these cannot be used; we are simply saying they are not required. Imaging, as noted above, is an ongoing, omnipresent, practical tool for coping with everyday events

Imaging can be used in anticipation of events or circumstances. It can be used to gain feedback. It can be used in reality acquisitionóto try to get us closer to objective reality. It can be used as a reality deterrent, tooóto try to get us away from reality. A reality deterrent may allow the imager to attain a different frame of reference. It can be used for fluencyójust to keep us involved and in touch. And it can be used spiritually as well. We will mention imaging for fun and flexibility, aesthetic awareness, tuning in, evaluating, improvements, basic enlightenment, and synergistic consciousness.

Fun and Flexibility

Imaging allows us to be imaginative, lighthearted, humorous, playful, and maybe even a little crazy. How easy it is to view the world in fanciful ways. Using imaging when waiting for a bus or meeting, doing the dishes or cleaning the house, walking or jogging, mowing the lawn or washing the car could relieve boredom, add a dash of playfulness, make such mundane experiences more interesting and entertaining, and boost ability to come up with creative new ideas. We are likely to add to our fun and flexibility when we image the following possibilities:

See everything as alive.

Think up past and future reincarnations (forms, versions, renderings, or interpretations) for things around us.

Dream up alternative meanings for the things and events around us.

Interpret things and events as the reverse of what we normally think they are.

Image new uses for things around us.

View the world as if you were an animal, a thing, or a small child.

See everything as randomly thrown together, and create a new structure or set of relationships between things.

Think of poetic imagery to express what we perceive in our surroundings.

Look for something humorous in everything we notice.

Regard whatever we're doing as a game, or figure out some way to make it a game.


Aesthetic Awareness

This involves using imaging to discover and appreciate beauty in things as they are. We can create aesthetic experiences for ourselves anytime we choose to do it. Although we all recognize the truth that beauty is in the eye of the beholder, often we do not recognize or appreciate the implications of this aphorismóthat we can train ourselves to experience beauty whenever and in whatever we wish. For some, finding beauty in puddles, rusty fences, shadows, clouds, rustling leaves, telephone poles, and crushed cans is a natural, normal experience. For others, these opportunities might add freshness and aesthetic delight to normal experiencing. We can create aesthetic awareness, by imaging the following:

Search our surroundings for everything that strikes us as beautiful or aesthetically interesting.

Look for scenes in our surroundings that would make great photographs.

View everyday things as if they were art exhibits.

Experience the world as a collection of abstract forms.

Find special or unique value in everything we notice.

Judge the degree of beauty in our surroundings using many different criteria.

Regard everything as a possible inspiration for a new work


Tuning In


Imaging to tune in involves increasing insight into what is present around us. Sometimes getting the most from an event or situation means learning more about it or integrating it with our wealth of already-present knowledge. We casually observe so many things in our surroundings that would prove fascinating if we took the time to examine them more carefully. Benefits might include increased competence, boosted arousal, and heightened understanding. To tune in, we need to image the following:

Notice things we normally wouldn't.

Search for boring things, then look for something interesting about them.

Figure out what the things and places around us communicate.

Think about the probable past and future of things we notice.

Think of something as the title of a book and image what the book might include.

Image what's going on inside each thing we notice.

Think about what we would most like to know about the people or things we encounter.


Evaluating

Evaluating involves judging something in relation to some standard or criterion. One of our unique abilities is that we can consciously choose what basis or criterion to use in making evaluations. To aid in evaluating, we might image the following possibilities:

Use unusual units of comparison to evaluate people and things around us.

Look at the world through different value systems.

Engage in an orgy of evaluation.

Figure out the cultural values implied by things around.


Improvements

This process involves imaging things as we would like them to be. These will be images of desirable future possibilities, rather than pure fantasy. Such imaging is likely to add to feelings of creativity and competence, but also it will alert us to problems and possibilities in whatever we focus on. It prepares us to take constructive action. To practice imaging for improvements, we could image some of the following possibilities:

Image improvements in already pleasant things around us.

Think up actions that would lead to improvements we image.

Image run-down things as if they were already improved.

Image what it took for these run-down things to become improved.


Basic Enlightenment

Enlightenment has many meanings. Most involve a spiritual or religious connotation. Often, it is thought of as a state of fantastically expanded consciousness, oneness with God, universal consciousness, or unimaginable bliss. Here, however, we are thinking of enlightenment as a way of experiencing that maximizes joy and fulfillment (Weaver & Cotrell, 1992). To increase basic enlightenment, we can image the following:

Think of every moment as an opportunity.

Regard whatever we're doing, thinking, or feeling as if it were our hobby.

Think of things we can learn from whatever we encounter.

For any problematic situation, focus on what we are doing and especially on what we can do.

Regard everything as perfect exactly the way it is each moment.

Imaging in these ways can be energizing and satisfying. To image in these ways makes each moment an opportunity for enriching life.

Synergistic Consciousness

Synergy refers to combined action. This occurs when contributions reinforce or compliment each other. More than any other, this type of imaging means thinking holistically, valuing the well-being of all people, and being eager to join with others to come up with creative solutions to problems and disagreements. To use imaging for synergistic consciousness, try some of the following:

Contemplate the total situation in which we are enmeshed.

Define conflicts in terms of underlying needs instead of incompatible solutions.

Look for points in other people's ideas to build on.

Think of our own and other people's ideas as gifts or invitations.

Think of superordinate goals that would resolve conflicts and excite enthusiasm.

Image what it would feel like to be the entire universe.

Think of all the interrelations we can that somehow connect things, people, and events around us to each other.

Image changes in the world that would make it easier for all of us to experience life joyfully. Image in detail how we would behave as an openly cooperative, creative, information-seeking and information-sharing, synergistic sort of person.


Suggestions

Because imaging skills differ so radically between people, the methods for increasing imaging ability are likely to differ radically as well. Ours must be accepted as suggestions only. They may help in increasing imaging skills, but there are no guarantees.

First, think of imaging as an easy, natural, comfortable process that requires no special or technical skill.

Second, do not think of imaging simply as something that requires relaxation, elaborate stress-reduction techniques, or meditation We are not saying these cannot be used; we are simply saying they are not necessary to effective imaging.

Third, try to avoid jumping to conclusions and making split second decisions. Allow time for imaging to work. We tend to be verbal animals. Be more patient. Count to ten. Back off. Try to image the situation as an outsider. Gain distance from the event or situation through time and space. This may give you more opportunity to image.

Fourth, think of imaging as a kind of inner movie. You, however, are the writer, the producer, the director, and the choreographer. You can play all of the characters, and you can choose the dialogue and how the characters interact with each other. Imaging is an act of conscious and deliberate creating through the vehicle of mental imagery.

Fifth, realize that we get better at imaging as we do it. It is like almost anything, practicing increases both skill and learning. Composers are not born with the ability to write great music; they acquire it through teaching and practice. Writers are not born with the ability to write great literature; they acquire it through teaching, practice, trial, and error. With practice, their skill improves. The more we practice imaging, the more situations that it is practiced in, and the more we apply the results to our lives, the better we will become at it.

Summary

Perhaps there is still some concern about why the process of imaging is important or beneficial. Imaging gives us access to part of our brain that we infrequently use in a conscious way. It is a key that we have for unlocking the unconscious mind. Although this is true, to think of imaging in this way alone also is limiting. Imaging is a way for gaining further information and insight as we have tried to demonstrate throughout this article.

Also, words and images work together. This gives us a depth of meaning that would be impossible with just one or the other alone. Once again, images are supplying meanings. But what is going on is more important than simply the relationship between the verbal and the images. Images open the door to inner knowing. They are a separate symbol system with their own code and meaning. Thus, through imaging we are likely to experience different kinds of material, information, and knowledge.

In these pages we have defined imaging, offered a few of its functions, and made several suggestions for increasing imaging skills. We have tried to show how imaging is not a special, unique, or extraordinary procedure involving relaxation techniques, elaborate and technical preparation, or meditation. It can be practiced on a daily basis and in all situations we encounter. In these cases, then, it is truly imaging on the go.

References

Response from Leonard J. Shedletsky

The critical reader may ask: What reason do I have to believe that imaging is useful for me? Why should I focus on my imaging or make any changes in it? How do I know that I can change my imaging?

 

A Hierarchical Model of Message Selection: The Filtering Affects of Emotional Response

Larry R. Vinson

About the Author: Larry R. Vinson is an associate professor of Communication, McNeese State University, P. O. Box 90420, Lake Charles, LA 70609

Abstract: Dr. Vinson provides a way of conceptualizing message selection in which the emotional response affects preference either through habit or conscious thought. An earlier version of this article was presented at the national meeting of the Speech Communication Association, 1993. 

Hunter and Boster (1987) supported a unidimensional model of compliance-gaining message selection. According to their model this selection process is that the selector of the message compares her expectation of the receiver's emotional response to the message with her (the selector's) emotion threshold. If the expected emotional response of the receiver falls below the threshold, is too negative, the message is rejected and if it falls above the threshold the message is accepted. Vinson and Biggers (In Press), using Mehrabian and Russell's (1974) three factor model of emotional response, showed that the expected emotional response of the selector is a better predictor of compliance-gaining message selection than the expected emotional response of the receiver.

In their discussion Vinson and Biggers (In Press) called for more research into the message selection process. These authors noted that their data was consistent with a hierarchical model of message selection. This hierarchical model holds that emotional response acts as a filter in the selection process by affecting the repertoire of messages available for selection. This repertoire is then further filtered by higher order processes such as liking, preference, or attitudes until one message is selected. By examining each processing level and its relationship to the other levels, our ability to explain and predict message selection and use should be enhanced. The purpose of this article is to outline this hierarchical model and to expose it to two experimental opportunities for falsification.

A Model of Emotional Response

Prior to any explication of this hierarchical model of message selection the theoretical and operational definitions of emotional response used in this article must be clearly promulgated. Research and theory development conducted individually and jointly by J. Russell and A. Mehrabian has produced a three factor theory of emotional response which has been shown to be valid with reliable measuring instruments (e.g., Mehrabian, 1980; Russell, 1978; Russell & Mehrabian, 1974). The theory suggests that, at its most primary level, emotional response can be described with three independent dimensions; pleasure-displeasure, arousal-nonarousal, and dominance-submissiveness (Mehrabian, 1976; Mehrabian, 1980; Mehrabian & Russell, 1974; Russell & Mehrabian, 1974a; Osgood, May, & Miron, 1975; Russell, 1978; Russell & Mehrabian, 1977).

Pleasure-displeasure is a continuum ranging from extreme pain or unhappiness to extreme happiness or ecstasy (Mehrabian, 1980). The dimension is measured by adjective pairs like happy-unhappy, pleased-annoyed, or satisfied-unsatisfied (Mehrabian, 1981).

The arousal-nonarousal dimension refers to a combination of alertness and activity. High arousal would be characterized by both high activity and high alertness. Moderate arousal might have middle level values for both activity and alertness, high levels of alertness with low activity or low alertness with high activity (Mehrabian, 1980). The dimension is measured with such terms as stimulated-relaxed, frenzied-sluggish or wide-awake-sleepy (Mehrabian, 1981).

Dominance-submissiveness ranges from extreme feelings of being controlled or influenced to feelings of mastery and control. The dimension is captured with terms like controlling-controlled, in control-cared for, and autonomous-guided (Mehrabian, 1981).

The three dimensions combine to predict responses to a higher order construct variously called liking, preference, and attitude. Positive attitude and preference mean liking while negative attitude and lack of preference mean disliking (Mehrabian, 1978; Mehrabian & Russell, 1974). Liking relates systematically to a behavioral variable called approach-avoidance. Approach includes any expression of preference, liking or positive attitude. It also includes movement toward as opposed to away from, degree of exploration, eye contact, looking toward, turning toward, leaning toward or touching. As liking increases approach increases. If the stimulus induces disliking then avoidance will result (Mehrabian, 1981). With this model of emotional response in place the hierarchical model of message selection can be presented.

A Hierarchical Model of Message Selection

Figure One illustrates this model. The triangular shape of the message selection process

represents the restricting effects of the selection process as it moves from bottom to top. At the lowest level, the selector's emotional response serves to filter the messages available for use. Next, emotional response affects a higher order construct referred to as preference or liking which further reduces the message options. At this point selection may occur. This level of message selection is habitual and thus not consciously controlled. The circle to the left of the triangle represents conscious thought. It is disconnected with the triangle to represent the fact that message selection may occur without conscious thought (the habitual selection process). The oval coming off the conscious thought circle extends conscious thought into the message selection process. This communicates the fact that an individual may consciously choose a specific message strategy. For this model to be accurate several assumptions must be tenable.

ïTenet 1: Emotional response can occur without conscious processing.

In the seminal article, "Feeling and Thinking: Preferences Need No Inferences" (1980), Zajonc argued that emotional responses can occur without cognition (conscious information processing). Zajonc defined preconscious affective responses as preferences. Preferences are reflected in such questions as "Do you like your speech class?", "How do you feel about President Clinton?", "Which outfit do you like the most?" Preferences are those emotional reactions which underlie approach-avoidance responses. Recall this article's model which defines preference as a higher order construct generated from emotional responses. This position is consistent with the one developed by Zajonc.

Research defining the neurological loci of emotions also shows that emotion can occur prior to conscious processing. For example, Cannon (1927) and Papez (1938) each identified the limbic system as the emotional brain while conscious thought is known to occur because of higher order cortical processes (Leventhal, & Tomarken, 1986).

ïTenet 2: Pleasure affects the repertoire of messages available for use.

Although the exact modus operandi of mood and memory affects remains controversial, the fact that an individual's emotional state affects memory is nearly axiomatic (Leventhal & Tomarken 1986; Thayer, 1989). One example of the relationship between affective state and memory is the theory of State Dependent Memory (cf. Bower, 1981). This theory holds that perceptions and memories are partially associated with affective states. As these states shift, cognitive elements associated with these states become more or less available to conscious awareness. Thus, emotional state acts as a filter affecting the availability of cognitive elements. The cognitive elements of interest in the present research are message strategies.

An examination of the methodologies used in Bower's research clearly showed that the level of pleasure was being manipulated (cf. Bower, 1981). Thus, an individual's level of pleasure may be said to affect the repertoire of message strategies readily available for use. The assumption here is that differing levels of pleasure make different sets or repertoires of messages available for use. More specifically, that an individual will have a different set of messages available for use when she or he is happy (high pleasure) as compared with when she or he is angry (low pleasure). If this argument is correct one would predict that:

Hypothesis One:

The mean scores of likelihood to use measures for a given repertoire of message strategies will vary according to the level of pleasure reported by the selector.

ïTenet 3: Arousal affects message selection by restricting the number of strategies available within given repertoire.

This hierarchical model argues that pleasure affects the repertoire of messages available for use while arousal then restricts the

Figure 1

Model of Message Selection Hierarchy

number of strategies available within any given repertoire. Research shows that some level of physiological arousal is needed for message selection to occur (Vinson, 1986). Many of us have experienced being very tired and the resultant difficulty with finding the needed word(s). As arousal increases the number of strategies is restricted until at very high levels of arousal the restriction is so great it is hard to find any words at all. If this argument is correct then one should find:

 

Figure 2

Visual Depiction of the Size of Reprertoires

Hypothesis two:

(A) A significant negative correlation will be found between arousal and the likelihood of selecting message scores within the repertoire of messages from which an individual may select.

(B) No significant correlation will be found between arousal and the likelihood of selecting message scores within the set of messages which lie outside of the individual's repertoire.

To test these hypotheses, two studies were designed and conducted.

STUDY #1

Method

Participants. Four-hundred and eight students enrolled in communication courses at a mid-sized southern university participated in this study (Female 252, Male 156).

Table 1

Factor Analysis of Emotion Scales

Items in scaleFactor OneFactor TwoFactor Three

PleasureDominanceArousal

1. Happy-Unhappy*.97-.01 .01

2. Pleased-Annoyed*.97-.01-.06

3. Stimulated-Relaxed-.51-.03 .52

4. Jittery-Dull-.16-.26*.67

5. Controlling-Controlled .06*.77-.27

6. Satisfied-Unsatisfied*.98 .01-.04

7. Dominant-Submissive-.17*.76-.03

8. Excited-Calm .15 .17*.79

9. Influential-Influenced .10*.80 .20

* meets .6-. .39 criteria for factor definition

Stimulus Materials. Stimulus materials were presented in a packet of written materials. This packet included two sections which were randomly ordered. The packets were introduced with the following instructions:

Participants then were exposed to one of two sections, an angry or happy manipulation. For example, they would read, "Now we want you to remember the most recent time that you were very happy! Take a moment and recall what it felt like." Recollection of past emotionally charged events has been shown to induce emotion changes

which are consistent with the emotion of the events (e.g. ., Thayer, 1987). These instructions were followed, on the same page, by Mehrabian and Russell's (1974a) emotion scales (see Table 1). This served as a manipulation check and it helped reinforce the emotion manipulation. The next two pages of the packet included, in random order, two scenarios. One scenario was a compliance gaining situation:

These instructions were followed by nine compliance-gaining responses (See Table 2). The other situation was a responding style scenario:

These instructions were followed by seven types of responses (Vinson, 1990, see Table 3). The other section of the packet was the emotion manipulation for anger. The instructions and scenarios in this section were identical with those in the section described above except the word angry was substituted for the word happy.

Procedure. Packets were randomly ordered in two ways. The two sections (angry or happy) were randomly ordered and the order of the two scenarios was randomized. These packets were then administered to intact classes. Participants were asked to read the instructions carefully and to complete packets.

Data Analyses. The data were analyzed using the SPSSX (1990) statistical package. Data were checked for out of range scores using the program frequencies. Factor structures were explored using principle components extraction and varimax rotation. Hypothesis one was tested using

Table 2

Compliance-Gaining Messages

(1) I would say something like, I wish I could get my new jacket but I am short the money. This way I could remind my friend to pay.

Very Likely____ ____ ____ ____ ____ ____ ____ ____ ____Very Unlikely

(2) I would not exactly tell the truth but would say something like, I need the money to buy my father a birthday present.

Very Likely____ ____ ____ ____ ____ ____ ____ ____ ____Very Unlikely

(3) I would ask for my money back.

Very Likely____ ____ ____ ____ ____ ____ ____ ____ ____Very Unlikely

(4) I would say: Are you going to be able to pay me the $50 that you borrowed? Do you know when?

Very Likely____ ____ ____ ____ ____ ____ ____ ____ ____Very Unlikely

(5) I would explain that I need the money because something has come up.

Very Likely____ ____ ____ ____ ____ ____ ____ ____ ____Very Unlikely

(6) I would say that I am in some kind of trouble and need the $50.

Very Likely____ ____ ____ ____ ____ ____ ____ ____ ____Very Unlikely

(7) I would ask very nicely for the money back and explain that I didn't want to be pushy but things have come up and it can't be helped.

Very Likely____ ____ ____ ____ ____ ____ ____ ____ ____Very Unlikely

(8) I would just say that $50 was borrowed from me and I need it back.

Very Likely____ ____ ____ ____ ____ ____ ____ ____ ____Very Unlikely

(9) I would tell my friend that it is owed to me, that I won't loan anything else unless it is paid back.

Very Likely____ ____ ____ ____ ____ ____ ____ ____ ____Very Unlikely

RESPONDING STYLES MESSAGES

(1) You should go to school it will pay off in the long run.

Very Likely____ ____ ____ ____ ____ ____ ____ ____ ____Very Unlikely

(2) You're a good person, everything will work out.

Very Likely____ ____ ____ ____ ____ ____ ____ ____ ____Very Unlikely

(3) That's not such a big problem.

Very Likely____ ____ ____ ____ ____ ____ ____ ____ ____Very Unlikely

(4) Sounds to me like you just can't make a decision.

Very Likely____ ____ ____ ____ ____ ____ ____ ____ ____Very Unlikely

(5) What do you want to do ?

Very Likely____ ____ ____ ____ ____ ____ ____ ____ ____Very Unlikely

(6) You sound really frustrated about this.

Very Likely____ ____ ____ ____ ____ ____ ____ ____ ____Very Unlikely

(7) I'd tell my friend that I couldn't talk about this right now.

Very Likely____ ____ ____ ____ ____ ____ ____ ____ ____Very Unlikely

 

the program MANOVA (multivariate analysis of variance). The statistical demarcation of .05 was set for rejection of the null hypothesis while power set at .99 with a moderate effect size (.25) required a per cell N of 148 (Cohen, 1969). This study had 204 per cell.

Results

Data Preparation. The factor structures of the manipulation check and the two dependent variables were identified. A criteria of loading at least .6 on one factor and not more than .39 on any other factor was established.

The factor analysis of the emotional response data (Mehrabian & Russell, 1974, the manipulation check data) showed the expected three factor model (72.9% of variance explained; see Table 1). The level of pleasure was the variable of interest for this study. Thus, the three items measuring pleasure were averaged and used in the subsequent manipulation check. If the manipulation of emotion (angry-happy) was successful one would expect that the levels of pleasure reported for each section

Table 3

Factor analysis of compliance-gaining messages

MessagesFactor/Factor/Factor/

Repertoire OneRepertoire TwoRepertoire Three

**1.-.09.06.46

2..01.07*.82

3.-.16.35.32

4..59.42-.44

5..12*.83.10

6..39.16*.75

7.-.26*.81.12

8.*.87-.03.03

9.*.83-.33.07

* meets .6-.39 criteria for factor definition

** see Table 3 for wording of each message strategy

of the study would correspond to the manipulation (i.e., the happy section would be rated significantly more pleasurable than the angry section). A one-way analysis of variance showed that the manipulation of emotion (anger & happy) worked (F(1,406)=11441, P<.00001: Happy mean = 8.52, standard deviation = .66; Angry mean = 1.53, standard deviation = .67).

The factor analyses of the two dependent variables (compliance-gaining message strategies and responding styles) were done to determine the repertoires of message strategies. For the compliance-gaining scenario, using the .6-.39 criteria, three factors or repertoires were defined explaining 62.5% of the variation (see Table 3). Items eight and nine were identified as repertoire one, items five and seven were identified as repertoire two, and items two and six were identified as repertoire three. The items defining each repertoire were averaged and used in the subsequent test of hypothesis one.

For the responding styles scenario, using the .6-.39 criteria, two factors or repertoires were defined explaining 50% of the variation (see Table 4). Items two, six, and seven identified repertoire one, and items three and four identified repertoire two. The items defining each repertoire were averaged and used in the subsequent test of hypothesis one. In sum, a total of five repertoires were defined for the two scenarios.

 

Hypothesis One

Hypothesis one predicted that the mean scores of likelihood to use measures for a given repertoire of message strategies would vary according to the level of pleasure reported by the selector.

This hypothesis was tested by contrasting the mean likelihood of use scores for each of the five repertories of messages for sections which manipulated the two emotional states: happy, angry.

A multivariate analysis of variance showed significant multivariate effects (Hotellings F(5)=12.41, P<.0001). Subsequent univariate one-way analyses of variance generated some support for hypothesis one. While no significant differences were found for responding styles (repertoire one or two), or for the third compliance-gaining repertoire, significant differences were found for the first two compliance-gaining repertoires (Compliance-gaining repertoire one (F(1,406)=61.6, P<.00001, eta2=36.3%, Happy mean=3.40, standard deviation=2.1; Angry mean=5.28, std. dev.=2.7; Compliance-gaining repertoire two (F(1,406)=9.90, P<.002, eta2=15.4%; Happy mean=6.93, standard deviation=2.0; Angry mean=6.25, std. dev.=2.4).

STUDY #2

Method

Data Base . The data used for testing hypothesis two were taken from Vinson and Biggers (In Press). A brief description of these data is presented next.

Table 4

Factor Analysis of Responding Style Messages

MessagesFactor/Factor/

Repertoire OneRepertoire Two

**1. .52 .04

2.*.73-.18

3.-.05*.73

4. .01*.84

5. .54 .36

6.*.64 .11

7.*.68 .28

* meets .6-.39 criteria for factor definition

** see Table 2 for wording of each message strategy

Participants . Sixty five students (38 female and 27 male) enrolled in undergraduate communication courses at a South-Central and Southern University participated in this study.

Materials/Procedures. Stimulus materials were taken from Miller, Boster, Roloff, and Seibold (1977). These materials consisted of two scenarios each followed by 16 compliance-gaining messages (representing Marwell's and Schmitt's Taxonomy, 1967). Participants read a scenario and then read the 16 compliance-gaining messages. After reading each compliance-gaining message the participant completed the dependent variables. The variables of interest for the present study were: (a) the likelihood of selection score for each message. Participants rated their likelihood of selection using a nine interval scale ranging between very likely and very unlikely, and (b) the selector's predicted level of arousal caused by using a specific message. This was measured using three semantic differential scales developed by Mehrabian (1980).

Results

Data Preparation. Reliability of the arousal dimension was determined by computing an alpha coefficient (final alpha =.71). The three items measuring arousal were averaged producing one score. That is, for each 'likelihood to use' score there was one score representing the selector's predicted level of arousal caused by using said message.

To test hypothesis two the repertoire of messages available to the individual had to be discriminated from the set of messages that were not available for use. This was done by dichotomizing the sample into two groups. Group one (the repertoire of usable strategies) was comprised of those messages which were rated as likely to select. In practice messages were assigned to group one if the selector rated the likelihood of selection from 6 through 9 (higher scores mean more likelihood of use). Group two was comprised of those messages which were rated as neutral or as unlikely to select (those scores from 1 through 5). A 'select if' command allowed the linear relationship between arousal and likelihood of selection to be tested for both groups independently.

Hypothesis two was tested using the SPSSX (1983) program Pearson Correlation. The analyses supported both parts of hypothesis two. Specifically, a significant negative correlation (r=-.39, P<.01, corrected for attenuation r=-.55) was found between arousal and likelihood of selection for those messages in the individuals repertoire of choices. Further, no significant correlation was found (r=.06, P>.05) between arousal and likelihood of selection for those message strategies which were not within the individual's repertoire of usable messages.

Discussion

The two experiments reported here provide evidence consistent with the hierarchical model proposed in this article. An individual's reported level of pleasure affected the likelihood of use scores for 2 of 5 repertoires of messages. Thus, the degree of pleasure may act as a filter in the message selection process. The individual's reported level of arousal was negatively correlated with likelihood to use scores for those messages within their repertoire of selectable messages. Thus, the degree of arousal may act to restrict the message choices available within a given repertoire.

What can or should be done next? This theoretical position holds that experienced emotions are the filter in the selection process. The manipulations of affect used in these two experiments were not what one would call strong affective manipulations. A strong manipulation of anger and happiness should make the emotional states so different that the cognitive elements available under each state would also be very different. A strong manipulation of arousal should highly restrict the repertoire of messages and once high enough should slow the ability of an individual to generate a response. This author has developed a method for manipulating anger and happiness and is in the process of collecting more data on this issue.

One interesting implication of this model is what it suggests about training or educating. These data suggest that we should train people in the emotional state that she or he will be in when the message needs to be used. Thus, if an individual needs to use certain messages in the face of anger we need to teach them in an intense, angry environment. The second option is that we need to teach the individual to remain calm and unaffected by the situational cues for emotion. In this case we can train her or him in a calm environment. Kind of reminds me of a coaching tenet; practice like you play.

References

Response from Leonard J. Shedletsky

Can we trust that a paper and pencil test of "how I'd react if" predicts how in fact I'd react if?

 

"How Embarrassing" Intrapersonal Coping Mechanisms

Audra L. Colvert

About the Author: Audra L. Colvert (M.A., Bowling Green State University, 1991) is on the faculty of James Madison University, Harrisonburg, Virginia 22807, where she is an instructor and co-director of the individual events team in the School of Speech Communication.

Abstract: Intrapersonal coping mechanisms help diminish the emotional reaction that embarrassment causes. Embarrassment is a mechanism for self-control. It is closely related to shame. Individuals use emotional catharsis to maintain a comfortable safety net. Embarrassment disrupts the psychological safety and creates a feeling of disease. Coping mechanisms provide a way to alleviate the pressure perceived by individuals in embarrassing situations. Four intrapersonal methods are discussed; apologies, accounts, avoidance, and humor. Coping with embarrassment is handled differently by different people. How well it is done depends on individuals' willingness to evaluate situations and then evaluate themselves.

Perspective:

1. What is the next state of adjustment when the coping mechanisms fail to alleviate the dis-ease associated with the embarrassment?

2. What other steps can people take to alleviate embarrassment intrapersonally?

3. If meaning attached to an event is changed, then how can we ever learn what really happened at that event?

 

Intrapersonal coping mechanisms provide a useful base for dealing with the consequences of embarrassment. Embarrassment is generally regarded as a form of social anxiety closely related to shyness, audience anxiety, and shame (Edelmann, Asendorpf, Contrarello, Georgas, Villanuava, & Zammuner, 1987; Buss, 1980; Schlenker and Leary, 1982). Some researchers believe embarrassment is a negative consequence of failure to present a desired image to others whom we regard as evaluating our performance (Edelmann et al, 1987). Others regard it as a psychological state of dis-ease reflecting a threat to the presented self, or public image (Modigliani, 1968). Yet, one author believes it is more useful to call embarrassment a mechanism of self-control rather than a reaction to fear of negative evaluation by others (Babcock, 1988). All of these definitions and approaches encompass parts of the emotion of embarrassment, yet none go far enough to present a full definition which will encompass a positive or negative reaction. I will argue that embarrassment is a mechanism for self-control of a positive or negative feeling of concern which is likely to arise when there is a perceived discrepancy with one's public image or with one's own personal standards, and the reaction from real or imagined others. I will argue further that strategies for dealing with embarrassment, intrapersonally, help to diminish embarrassing events. It is the goal of this article to show how our emotional awareness can change our perceptions of events and even our attitude towards the events.

Embarrassment and Shame

Embarrassment is often compared with and contrasted to shame when trying to describe the emotion. In fact, the terms embarrassment and shame are often used interchangeably. They are both characterized as a feeling of exposure and heightened self-awareness generally accompanied by feelings of distress, inappropriateness, and inadequacy (Sattler, 1965; Lynd, 1958). We must attempt to distinguish between the two emotions, so there will be a clearer understanding between the reactions of each.

Lynd describes embarrassment as "an initial feeling of shame before shame is covered up or explored as a means of further understanding oneself and of the situation that gives rise to it" (Lynd, 1958, p. 38). Modigliani distinguishes embarrassment from shame through common usage. He states, "In common usage one is primarily ashamed of oneself, while one is primarily embarrassed about one's presented self. This may mean that shame is the more personal extension of embarrassment, or it may mean that it is a quite distinct psychological state" (Modigliani, 1966, p. 10).

Babcock supports Modigliani's view when she describes embarrassment as "resulting when an individual perceives a discrepancy between his persona and the facts of the matter. In contrast, shame results when individuals believe they have violated a shared, objective standard of what it is to be a worthy person"(Babcock, 1988, p. 463).

Edelmann summarizes Buss's research and describes the differences between shame and embarrassment in this way:

Embarrassment is recognized as a perceived or real discrepancy in one's own behavior and may be positive or negative. The distinguishing factor between embarrassment and shame is that shame violates a shared, objective, real standard of what it means to be worthy and is almost always negative. It is a fine line between the two emotions and it is difficult to distinguish at times. During shameful events the reactions of others are usually not positive either. The stigma people attach to shame is difficult to eliminate. Shamed people are outcast from groups, where as, embarrassed individuals are the center of attention. It should be noted that because of the differences some techniques used for reducing embarrassment will not reduce shame.

Emotions and Intrapersonal Communication

Emotions such as embarrassment and shame can be controlled through the locus of meaning. If the meaning attached to an event can be changed, then any stigma attached to it may also be changed. Intrapersonal communication extends beyond self-talk. The intrapersonal process includes problem solving activities, conflict resolution, imaging, feeling, introspection, and the evaluation of ourselves and others (Cunningham, 1989). Feelings or emotions impact how people react to situations. The first step in controlling the emotion of embarrassment, intrapersonally, is to look at the concept of emotions in general. Emotions are more than physiological reactions to stimuli. The James-Lange Theory of Emotion provides a classical definition.

Notice the perception step in the stimulus-response model.

Our perceptions of the world and of ourselves are formed through our life experiences, others perceptions of us, the situations we are born into, and our bodies. If we have a poor self-concept our outlook on embarrassing situations will usually be negative. We search for psychological safety. When an embarrassing event occurs individuals feel a great amount of dis-ease. Their first reaction is to fade into the woodwork. However, when we are aware of how the inner-self controls the outward physiological response to the stimulus, it is possible to change the perceptions of events and possibly perceptions others have of the same situation, thus diminishing the feeling of embarrassment.

Coping Mechanisms

Through intrapersonal coping mechanisms, embarrassment can be minimized. Embarrassment is usually classified as a short-lived phenomenon. If the initial reaction to embarrassment can be softened, then the embarrassing scene will pass without having a major impact on any of the parties. Metts and Cupach have identified several researchers who have classified embarrassing predicaments into types of circumstances (1989; 1992). Metts and Cupach summarize the research:

Remedial strategies for coping with embarrassment have generally focused in four areas, apologies, accounts, avoidance, and humor (Metts & Cupach, 1989). This article focuses on using these strategies intrapersonally. It is the goal of this article to show how our emotional awareness can change our perceptions of events and even our attitude towards the events.

Apologies

Apologies are statements which acknowledge blameworthiness and seek atonement for an inappropriate or untoward act (Schlenker & Darby, 1981). Simple statements such as "I'm sorry" and "Please excuse me" are most often sufficient interpersonal remedies. The other parties involved in the event will acknowledge the statements and all will be forgotten. However, intrapersonally, the event may continue to be unresolved. The mind will replay the event over and over. Depending on individuals, they might try to seek an apology from the inner-self. For example, if a guest spills a glass of wine on her host's white carpet, the guest would immediately apologize (lack of competence). However, intrapersonally, the guest may repeat the apology over in her head all night long until she has resolved the crisis with herself by accepting her own apology.

Accounts

An account may take the form of excuses (statements which minimize the actors responsibility for an act) or justifications (statements which minimize the pejorative consequences of an act) (Metts & Cupach, 1989). Providing excuses to others about incidents is a remedial strategy with which many are comfortable. No one is hurt by a white lie. However, some individuals when they are in embarrassing predicaments go so far as to deceive themselves. They can convince themselves that the excuse is justified. They may even begin to believe the specific excuse. For example, if a teenage girl receives a note from a boy, the boy might say a friend sent the note instead of initiating a conversation with the girl (afraid of being conspicuous). Thus the boy avoids a potentially embarrassing episode of talking to a girl, and the boy may begin to believe his friend sent the note. The feeling of embarrassment is minimized by both parties.

Another form of accountability is justification. Kenneth Burke proposes two forms of justification which will reduce the feeling of guilt or shame associated with embarrassment. The first act of purification for Burke is mortification. Mortification is the act of self-sacrifices that relieves man of his guilt, (or in this case embarrassment), through a scapegoat that symbolizes guilt (or the emotion one is feeling) (Brock, 1972). There are three types of scapegoats that individuals can assume.

Scapegoat A deserves what it gets. Embarrassed individuals will accept the situation by saying they deserved it. They may use one remedial strategy interpersonally, but, intrapersonally, they will accept the predicament for what it is. This scenario is usually a humorous event. For instance, someone who plays a lot of jokes on people may finally get one played on him. The individual will get his just reward.

Scapegoat B assumes a teleological stance. This situation was destined to happen. It could not be avoided. When people walk into or perceive an embarrassing situation as inevitable, they will assume the role as scapegoat and allow this predestined event to happen. "Surprise" parties are positive examples of such situations. Individuals may be embarrassed that they are receiving attention, but, they will allow themselves to be the scapegoat because it is a positive experience and everyone benefits.

Scapegoat C is too good for this world. These people are the perfect sacrifice for the event because they are above it anyway. Individuals may feel as if they were put in this situation because they were the only ones who could handle it properly. They will justify the situation by placing themselves in the center of the event and look upon it as an actor on center stage. A disc jockey may agree to be the scapegoat for a pie-throwing contest. The DJ may believe he is the only person with a sense of humor who could make the event a success. A little embarrassment is all right because DJ's are funny people and can handle it.

The second type of justification Burke identifies is victimage. Victimage is the purging of guilt through a scapegoat that symbolizes society's guilt. Rejection of hierarchy results in psychological guilt, purification, and redemption (Brock, 1972). If individuals accept themselves as victims of society then they will purge themselves of the guilt by placing the burden on society. In other words, the victim will blame it on someone else. For example, young children who have accidents while in the center of a group of adults would purge themselves of the embarrassment by blaming it on the parents and everyone who is laughing at the situation.

Avoidance

The third remedial strategy for coping with embarrassment intrapersonally is avoidance. Avoidance refers to a variety of tactics which enable an offending actor to avoid explaining untoward behavior. There are many tactics commonly associated with avoidance, however, two methods are specific to intrapersonal communication; self-deception and selective recall.

Self-deception or deceptive communication hides intended messages from communicators. Parrott, Sabini, and Silver call this "transparent pretexts" which refers to pleasant, fictitious, but blatantly false, reasons that are advanced to conceal less pleasant, but real, reasons for some action (1988). Normally, senders will deceive receivers. If nothing much stands to be gained or lost by lying, both parties may store deceptive messages in short-term capacities and eliminate actual events from memory. In embarrassing predicaments senders may feel dissonance. To resolve this feeling they may lie to themselves about the event. Apple believes individuals can learn to consciously alter their perceptions so as to select emotional responses to stimuli in a highly conscious fashion (1989, p. 325). In changing feelings toward an event, people would alter the perception of the event that is deceiving the mind. Individuals may even believe there was no feeling of embarrassment. Imagine telling your date that you are a good jitterbug dancer, knowing your partner is an expert. When you get out on the dance floor you are so inept that your partner decides to stop dancing. You may deceive yourself into believing that there were too many people on the dance floor or your styles were just too different. It definitely wasn't anything you did! Your partner may even go along with the idea to help alleviate the feeling of embarrassment.

I would go one step further and claim that individuals may consciously or nonconsciously eliminate passages of time from memory. Selective recall allows embarrassed people to continue the scene without interruption because they do not recall the event that has just occurred. Individuals eliminate the scenarios from memory so they do not have to deal with them. Jensen supports this conclusion:

When consistency is at risk, the brain will protect itself by blocking information. Embarrassed people may remember the scene up to the point of embarrassment then jump to the next comfortable spot in the scenario. Continue the dance scenarioóinstead of deceiving yourself, you block the whole scene from memory. The date proceeds as if nothing happened. However, you may never attempt to jitterbug with that person again. When individuals completely block out the event, their body may respond accordingly. There would be no physiological responses such as blushing or perspiring. The interaction will go on as normal for the embarrassed person. In fact, embarrassed people may not even recognize the reactions that other members are having in the group.

Humor

The other intrapersonal coping mechanism for dealing with embarrassment useful in restoring individuals' public-image and self-image is humor. "It diminishes the importance of the event because the identity of the 'victim' can be transformed to 'coactor' and the label 'embarrassing' transforms into 'humorous'" (Edelmann, 1987, p. 86). Laughter can be used by both victims and observers. Humor enables embarrassed individuals to minimize their embarrassment by decreasing the intensity of the situation and recognizing their real or perceived mistakes. For example, tripping over one's feet while walking with a group of people would be funny. Everyone in the group would laugh at the situation. Having the ability to laugh at oneself shows a positive self-image. It is when individuals cannot laugh at the situation that embarrassment can become a harmful emotion that stays in people's memory. That is when it may be necessary to evaluate self-concept and discover why it is difficult for people to laugh at themselves.

Conclusion

This article has looked at the concept of embarrassment and how intrapersonal coping mechanisms help diminish the emotional reaction. Embarrassment is a mechanism for self-control of a positive or negative feeling of concern which is likely to arise when there is a perceived discrepancy with one's public image or own personal standards and the reaction from real or imagined others. Intrapersonal communication uses emotional catharsis to maintain a comfortable safety net. Embarrassment disrupts the psychological safety and creates a feeling of dis-ease.

Coping mechanisms provide a way to alleviate the pressure perceived by individuals in embarrassing predicaments. Four intrapersonal methods were discussed: apologies, accounts, avoidance, and humor. Coping with embarrassment is handled differently by different people. How well it is done depends on individuals' willingness to evaluate situations and then evaluate themselves. It is people who have positive images of themselves and the world around who will best be able to cope with embarrassment.

References

Response from Leonard J. Shedletsky

Colvert says: "It is the goal of this article to show how our emotional awareness can change our perceptions of events and even our attitude towards the events." Has she done that? She distinguishes embarrassment from shame, and then lists four mechanisms that are used to cope with embarrassment? How do we know that "it is people who have positive images of themselves and the world around who will best be able to cope with embarrassment?"

Cognitive Structuring for Uncertainty Reduction:

Invariants Under Transformation

Maurine Eckloff

About the Author: Maurine Eckloff, Ph. D. is a professor at the University of Nebraska at Kearney. An earlier version of this article was presented at the Central States Communication Association Convention, Cleveland, 1992

Abstract: Communication encounters are semantic transactions which include predictions for the future based on correlations from the past. Individuals reduce uncertainty by discovering structural "invariants" which increase predictability and lessen uncertainty in interpersonal communication.

Perspective:

1. How does perception of structural "invariants" in communication aid in selecting appropriate communication behavior?

2. Explain invariance under transformation and discuss how this applies to communication strategies for the reduction of uncertainty.

3. Korzybski states that structural data is the only content of knowledge. How is this concept of structure related to the area of probability? How does knowledge of structure, relations and order work to reduce uncertainty?

 

Research in uncertainty reduction in communication interaction began in the 1970's (Berger, 1979; Berger & Bradac, 1982; Berger & Calabrese, 1975). The central assumption presented was that when strangers meet, the primary concern is to reduce uncertainty. In later research, Berger (1986), Sunnafrank (1986a, b) and Kellerman (1986) discussed the significance of predicted communication outcomes as perceived by the communicator as related to the communicator's need for selecting effective uncertainty reduction strategies. There are indications that several conditions create an increased need for reduction of uncertainty: when the conversational partner seems to deviate from the norm, when future interaction with the conversational partner is likely, and when the partner has high incentive value--a source of high costs and rewards. Grove (1991) notes that if one does not care very much about the communication outcome, one may be quite comfortable with conversational uncertainty, at least temporarily.

Neuberg & Newsom (1993) observe that individuals can lessen their uncertainty through avoidance strategies or by cognitive structuring, the use of simplified generalizations of previous experience to draw inferences about new events. Brouwer and Sorrentino (1993) propose that perceived intrinsic and extrinsic rewards (satisfaction and social approval) and the arousal of fear through threat appraisal increase the need for effective uncertainty reduction strategies.

General semanticists (Korzybski, 1958; Bois, 1983; Weinberg, 1959) explain that the reduction of situational uncertainty occurs by individual identification of structural "invariants" from past experiences and use of these to make predictions of future communication interaction outcomes. The importance of the uncertainty

Figure l

Individuals as Semantic Transactors.

A semantic transaction has at least seven aspects or dimensions.

Adapted from Bois, J. S. (1983). The art of awareness. Dubuque: W. C. Brown, p. 29.

reduction to the communicator is dependent on the

communicator's perception of the personal value of the communication outcome. Figure 1 shows individuals as semantic transactors. As Bois(1983) states: "The individual may be described as a thinking, feeling, self-moving, electrochemical organism in continuous transaction with a space-time environment." Each transactor communicates in the present environment influenced by past experiences and future expectancies.

Korzybski (1958); Bois (1983); and Weinberg (1959) propose that communication encounters are semantic transactions which include predictions for the future based on correlations from the past. Individuals reduce uncertainty by discovering structural correlations which increase predictability and lessen uncertainty in interpersonal communication. Structural correlations, constructs, are thought of as invariants under transformation. Although there are changes in the system or situation (Sondel, 1958), the basic structure remains invariant. The more complex and accurate the structure of invariants in the individual's interpersonal communication "repertoire," the less uncertainty he experiences. Sawin (1991) explains:

Weinberg (1959) proposes a dynamic constancy of internal organization is the prime characteristic of living organisms: "We have what . . . is called 'invariance under transformation'. . . . Of course, this invariance is a relative thing . . . everything is varying" (p. 160). Korzybski (1958) explains invariants under transformation as higher-order abstractions (constructs) which do not significantly change their basic meanings or structural relations in any situation to which they can be legitimately applied. The more complex the perception of structural relationships, the more uncertainty that can be handled. Weinberg (1959) presents an example of invariants under transformation.

Sondel (1958) explains that invariance implies order-relations--a relative permanence: transformation implies change. An individual is seen as an organism-as-a-whole-in-an environment--a structured situation-as-a-whole--under transformation. Transformation implies structured change with form and structure as synonyms. Without knowing a thing about the details, you can recognize a home, a school, a church, a barn, a tree, a child by its essential form--by its structure. To transform something is to change its structure. Sondel (1958) notes that in a world of permanence and change, we may think of transformation as a crossing over of any one thing to other things to make or remake form. (p. 128) The ability to plan, to predict, through use of words (language) preceding interaction reduces uncertainty. To be aware of invariance, order, adds to predictability when in a new interpersonal situation. For example:

It is natural to want something and to dream about how it can be obtained. Pamie saw three rows of vegetables with a wire fence to protect them from the rabbits. To her, this was new form--something to be made, something different. Pamie had predicted on the basis of the relatively invariant relation: if seeds, then radishes, tomatoes, onions, and so on. Invariant relations enabled her to predict and transform the lawn into a vegetable garden.

Similarly, in interpersonal communication one makes predictions about others by discovering invariants. Miller and Steinberg (1975, pp. 52-55) note that we make communicative predictions about others based on our discovery of cultural, sociological and psychological "invariants." Predictions based on cultural and sociological invariants aid the communicator in initial encounters with others. However, invariants based on psychological data are more accurate, as the invariants are established on an individual basis. Miller and Steinberg cite a well known chess champion who stated that "If I don't get to know him I won't beat him." (p. 60). According to this theory when communicating with those for whom one may not have established structural correlations, such as the disabled or those with aids, uncertainty would increase, because one "does not know them." Vygotsky (1962, p. viii) wrote that communication theories can provide an interpretive tool kit of ideas that make it unnecessary to learn the same lessons all over again in each subsequent encounter. Theories can provide the structure (organizing principles) for imposing order on the seemingly disordered events of dyadic interaction. One can then choose one's behavior from an expanded awareness of alternatives.

Garner (1962, p. 24) explains uncertainty as probability. He says that uncertainty is inversely related to the probability of a particular outcome. He discusses internal and external meaning. As an example, he explains:

The amount of structure can be identified with the amount of correlation between events. According to Garner (1962), a set of symbols in which certain invariant relations hold between the symbols is highly structured and one in which there exist no relations between the symbols is not structured at all (p. 143). Meyer (1956) distinguishes between what he calls designative and embodied meaning. Designative meaning is what Garner (1962) refers to as external meaning, while embodied meaning is what Garner terms internal meaning. Unless correlation exists between a symbol system or system of related events, there can be no external signification. Unless the symbols themselves are correlated, there can be no specific rules by which the internal signification can be learned. Importantly, uncertainty is prerequisite to structure. Without variability there can be no correlation:

Garner further states: "Uncertainty and structure are so fundamental to behavior that stimulation without variability is effectively no stimulation at all." (p. 341)

Korzybski (1958) states:

Korzybski further proposes:

Korzybski (1958) discusses invariance under transformation. He explains that it may be used as an investigation of how one system translates into the other. In those translations, which correspond to the transformation of frames of reference in mathematics, we find the most important invariant characteristics or relations which survive this translation. If a characteristic appears in all formulations, it is a sign that this characteristic is intrinsic, belongs to the subject of our analysis, and is not accidental and irrelevant, belonging only to the accidental structure of the language we use. Once these invariant, intrinsic characteristics are discovered, and there is no way to discover them except by reformulating the problems in different "languages," we then know that we have discovered invariant relations, which survive transformation of different forms of representations, and so realize that we are dealing with something genuinely important, independent from the structure of the language we use. The work of Einstein, the revision of mathematical foundations, the new quantum mechanics, colloidal science, and advances in psychiatry, are perhaps structurally and semantically the most important, according to Korzybski. Korzybski (1958) further explains that low level abstractions are absolute and consider no relations. Higher abstractions allow for generalizations and relations. The structure of the human nervous system is such that it abstracts, generalizes, integrates in higher orders, and so finds similarities, discovering often invariant (sometimes relatively invariant) relations. (pp. 262-263)

Korzybski discusses the elimination of the "is of identity" (p. 262). He explains that if the "is of identity" is eliminated, the language becomes similar in structure to the external world descriptively, and because of this similarity of structure, there is predictability and less uncertainty.

Korzybski emphasizes that languages should be structurally similar to the external world (p. 385). Such language leads to the "laws of nature" and gives us structural data which Korzybski says is the only possible content of "knowledge." He comments, "The laws of nature appear to be such that the actual state of the world is represented by that which is statistically the most probable." (p. 680) Korzybski states that "It should be noted that the notions of probability are very flexible, and entirely cover our structural needs, the field of degrees of probability ranging from impossibility to certainty" (p. 310).

Korzybski comments on structure as the content of knowledge:

Korzybski advises, "If we use languages of a structure non-similar to the world and our nervous system, our verbal predictions are not verified empirically, we cannot be 'rational' or adjusted" (1958, p. 751). With valid correlations based on multiple and varied observations from the past, the individual communicator in a communication situation can establish structure, relations and order, for reducing uncertainty. With structure established for prediction the individual can adjust his communication for desired results. With a sufficient repertoire of applicable structural invariants one can reduce communication uncertainty and can interact more efficiently and effectively for attaining communication goals.

References

Response from Leonard J. Shedletsky


The structuralist perspective on language truth and knowledge proposed here embraces, it seems, a view of reality that assumes an objective, independently existing reality. How does this structural view square with the view from the constructivists who do not hold to a straightforward correspondence between words and things?


Author's Last Word

This paper does not propose a "straightforward correspondence between words and things," but rather proposes that through valid structural correlations from multiple past observations, "invariants under transformation" can be discovered to reduce uncertainty, to make future interpersonal communication outcomes more predictable, and to more effectively communicate. ME

Contemplation: The Art of Intrapersonal Communication

Tom Bruneau

About the Author: Tom Bruneau is on the faculty of the Department of Communication, Radford University, Radford, VA 24142, telephone (703) 831-5700. He has written about silence, time, and empathy as communication variables. He constructs new theories of communication, writes poetry, and synthesizes in interdisciplinary scholarship.

Abstract: The author discusses the concept of contemplation by exploring the aesthetic, artistic, and nature of the dynamic process of contemplating from a psychological and spiritual viewpoint. Much of a person's personal everyday perceptual regularities, habitual thinking, and repetitive or usual behaviors can prevent one from the practice of contemplation. The author recommends "be still of mind."

Perspective:

1. How often do you have little mental vacations each day?

2. Do you know where you have been in your mind upon waking up from a day-dream?

3. What do you mean when you are asked "What were you thinking about?" and you say, "Nothing."

 

The concepts of contemplation are some of the most elusive and difficult to explain. Some of this difficulty arises because so many other concepts are related to, or are aspects of, contemplation, (e.g., silence, solitude, states of being, reflective thought, meditation, day-dreaming, wondering, bliss, and many other intrapersonal events or episodes). Conceptual boundaries are vague and seem to defy easy definition. Initially, then, this essay will attempt to begin to explain what seems to be difficult, if not almost inexplicable, and provide some clarification about what is meant by the concept, "contemplating."

Secondly, we will explore the aesthetic, artistic, and dynamically processual nature of contemplating from a psychological and spiritual viewpoint. Here we will be concerned with what is mentally free-flowing and unpredictable. Some scientific explanations are possible in attempting to describe this free-flow, but these are preliminary explanations. Our main concern in this section will be with what may precede moments of conscious creative realizations, awakenings of self-to-self disclosures, sudden and profound insights, flashes of illumination, and even peculiar visions of form-constants or archetypal images, for example. These are argued to be products of the act of deep contemplation and seem to be very important to the genesis of creative conscious thought as well as the development of one's self-awareness, personal identity, and mental growth. These products imply the value and joy of contemplation.

Thirdly, much of our everyday perceptual regularities, habitual thinking, and repetitive, usual behaviors prevents us from the practice of contemplation. Therefore, it will be necessary to discuss these problems. There are many such resistances, such as finding the distraction-free solitude necessary to such intrapersonal adventure, the freeing of ourselves of negative attitudes or fears about exploring interior distances, and breaking out of our "trances of action," clock-bound activities, and daily "busi-ness." Daily routinous, robotic activities prevent us from entering the intrapersonal world hidden from and surrounding regularized thinkingóthinking which is logical, analytical, critical, and objective or goal-oriented. Sitting still and emptying the mind of such anti-contemplative activities is difficult to achieve.

The Concept of Contemplation

The word "contemplation" has an embedded meaning which is instructive; "con-" means "with" and "temp" means "time." To contemplate, then, means to do something with one's own time-experiencing. It is to shift from a "becoming" of mind to a "being" of mind. Fischer (1977-1978) discussed an advanced being-of-mind in terms of achieving a "pure white light" which seems to characterize the entrancing goal of both Eastern and Western contemplative mysticism. We will discuss this strange white light and related states of mind under another section.

Contemplation is a concept which describes a state of "being mind" instead of "having" mind. Having mind concerns purposive thinking, critical thinking, discursive or discriminative thought, and all forms of everyday objective consciousness (including inner speech) which are assumed to be mainly left-brained mental activities. However, as we shall see, the left/right brained distinction is presently a subject of debate and this seems

ContemplationInner Speech

(Silence) (Silences)

Somewhat unconsciousSomewhat conscious

Being (somewhat nonlinear)Becoming (somewhat linear)

DurationalSequential

UnpatternedPatterned

Expanded nownessContracted nowness

InactionAction

Relatively acausalCausal

Solitudinal (alone)Social (including social cognition)

Spiritual (mystical)Secular (profane)

Assumed right-brained processingAssumed left-brained processing

especially so when it comes to deeper kinds of contemplation and holistic integrations of mental activity which concern various advanced levels of synchronous states of being.

To break free of directed or goal oriented thought, or even our own contents and patterns of reference memory, is to shift from conscious restraints and to begin to empty the conscious mind of contents (patterned inhibitory oscillation fields or holoscapes, (see Pribram, 1991), sequence, and words. In short, to contemplate deeply is to achieve a silence of being. It is to achieve a journey without maps. Deep contemplation is to achieve a "no-thing-ness" of mind. In its most profound characteristic, contemplation is pure silence and a stillness or stasis of mind. I have previously discussed these mental states in attempting to distinguish silences (implying sequence and junctures, or breaks in verbal or objective thought) from silence (beyond objective consciousness), (cf. Bruneau, 1973; Bruneau, 1982; Bruneau and Isihii, 1988). It is critical to the positions taken in this essay that we are not concerned with a dualism. We are concerned with a relativity of mind, a series of highly interrelated continua allowing for and describing possible left to right, right to left, and, possibly, various synchronistic hemispheric and interhemispheric integrations and disintegrations. The following interrelated continua-sequence attempt to describe the relative differences between conscious and contemplative states of mind and is adapted from (Bruneau and Ishii, 1988, p. 6).

Contemplation is not an either/or process; there are levels of narrative-like thinking approaching contemplation which can be left-brained (reflective thought, exploratory theorizing, creative scientific imagination, for example); there can be right-brained images which are sequenced almost like language; there are definitely holistic and synchronous states involving both hemispheres as well as limbic and mid-brained processes concerned with thinking as well as feelings and moods. Indeed, both Efron (1990) and Pribram (1991; in press) appear to discount some of the fads of hemispheric specialization.

From the conceptual viewpoint here, I do not consider contemplation itself to concern awareness of our own self, our own ego-involvements, our self labeling, or any form of self reflection. Nor are we said to be contemplative when we are conscious of our own bodily processes, our own emotional states, or our own labeling of our feelings and moods. These self-conscious activities can often precede or follow deeper contemplative activity to which we are often unaware. Contemplation can be so unconscious that we often cannot say where we have been in our mental wanderings. This is very common. There are little "snatches" or brief episodes of contemplation in most people, even the very young ones. Older people facing their end as they know it, moreover, seem to approach contemplation more in personal narrative retrospections and nostalgic raptures.

While some repetitive external stimuli, such as mantras, mandalas, or repeating short sayings (as in with meditative prayer, chanting "aum . . ." or saying Zen koans), (see Aitken, 1978), can help to induce contemplative activity, they can also prevent it by those newly initiated to meditative life. It should be obvious that any attentive focus or vigilance to external motion (in any geometric design or sequentially) is obverse to contemplation. Aids to the initiation of contemplation can help to avoid distractions, such as geometric centering devices or mandalas (see Eliade, 1957; 1961) or auditory compulsing devices,

such as mantras, which can help to induce synchronistic brain states. But, these are not involved in deeper kinds of contemplation as will be discussed below.

Initially, then, the concept of an advanced contemplation concerns a deep, unconscious and pervasive "in-attention." An episode of contemplation is difficult to measure in terms of clock time as it concerns a variable subjective time. It can be fleeting, transpiring in minutes or even secondsóthe person often altering or losing her or his ordinary or habitual sense of passing time. Or, it can last for hours, days, or even weeks for serious students who have learned the discipline of sitting still. These persons often enter what has been called the spacious present, the expanded now and, then, the "eternal present," (see, for example, Coomaraswamy (1947); Eliade (1957); or Tillich (1963).

Neuronal Aesthetics and Contemplation

Two of the leading world authorities in neural science, Sir John C. Eccles and Karl H. Pribram have pointed to scientific descriptions of acts of contemplation. Eccles (1977) discusses the conscious mind as "world 2;" the other two worlds are physical objects and states (world 1) and objective knowledge (world 3). Dreams and creative imaginations are assumed to be world 2 states. Eccles postulates that the self-conscious mind is the central self in that metacommunication (self-to-self talk) occurs there. Apparently, from Eccles' assumptions, the very deepest forms of contemplation could (or should) occur in the minor or nondominant hemisphere, where self-talk cannot occur. Eccles does recognize a spirituality of mind, but seems to be unclear as to where it occurs. He appears to indirectly suggest a potential for contemplation at the creative or imaginative thinking levels of the world 2 dominant hemisphere. Possibly, however, Eccles could conceivably argue that such activity takes place through the spread of neurological action through several integrated cortical "areas" or areas integrated through his "connectivities" dynamically (Eccles, 1977). His model seems unclear as to deeper contemplation.

A model by Pribram (1971; 1991; in press) appears to be open to an artistic view of mind. His holonomic theory, based in information theory, quantum formulations, and neuro-chemistry, is non-dualistic as to hemisphericity or mind-body splits. Nor are his viewpoints simplistically holistic. Pribram's model is too complex to explain clearly here, but his view of "holograms" (inverse Gabor wavelet functions and Fourier energy transformations) organizing into oscillatory complexities called "holoscapes" (structures which seem dynamically akin to variable images) allows for a more dynamic and less mechanical or "rubber-band" view of mental processes.

Pribram also focuses on kinds of consciousness: objective consciousness; narrative consciousness; and transcendental consciousness, (Pribram, in press). The neural experiencing of transcendental consciousness seems to fit our conceptualization of contemplation well. Pribram explains that, beyond a "meta-me. . . the 'I' becomes transparent throughput [throughput is about energy flow, neurologically] experiencing everything everywhere [ó] there is no longer the segmentation into episodes; nor do events become enmeshed in a narrative structure." He goes on to say that "the spiritual contents of consciousness can be accounted for by the effect of excitation of the frontolimbic forebrain (involved in narrative construction) on the dendritic microprocess which characterizes cortical receptive fields in the sensory extrinsic systems (involved in the construction of objective reality)," (Pribram, in press).

Pribram further explains that the:

Here we have a neuroscientific description of mind as art or metaphor with neuronal motion which is congruent with a number of contemplative traditions in psychology as well as religious philosophy.

The psychology of contemplation is broad based, involving many lines of thoughtful inquiry. Perhaps the first big step is to understand paradoxical barriers in our own thinking concerning "no-thingness." What we are discussing here seems paradoxical and, to those stuck in the ruts of analytical thinking, the language of contemplation can naturally seem illogical. Nothingness is somethingness without paradox. Silence is full, not empty. L. Eiseley, the poetic archeologist said it nicely, "One exists in a universe convincingly real, where the lines are sharply drawn in black and white. It is only later, if at all, that one realizes the lines were never there in the first place," (Eiseley, 1975, p. 105). Kahn (1958) noted that, "When we shed off our self we realize that another form lies . . . behind the rhythmic up and down of life . . . behind the apparent shape of things. . . . We are being liberated through silent contemplation. Sontag observed that, "We must destroy continuity (which is insured by psychological memory), by going to the end of each emotion or thought. And after the end, what supervenes (for a while) is silence," (Sontag, 1966, p. 23). D. Hammarskjöld (1971, p. 167) in a poem said it another way:

Silence shatters to pieces

The mind's armor

Leaving it naked before

Autumn's clear eye.

From an artist's psychological view, Neumann appeared to be describing contemplation:

We will return to radiances and light found in deep contemplation below.

Jung would probably view contemplation as concerning the dream states and reveries whereby archetypal images can be activated:

Dream states, to Jung, seemingly bring about contact with images which are assumed form-constants lying beneath conscious awareness and which can then be made conscious upon reflection. It is uncertain whether supposed archaic or archetypal images could be projected, top-down, retinal net objectifications or possibly those of subcortical or midbrain integrations made manifest to ordinary objective consciousness. These images, after all, are often described as distinctly recognizable formulations or objectifications.

Singer has commented on the experiencing of daydreaming: "Generally the word is used to mean a shift of attention away from an ongoing physical or mental task or from a perceptual response to external stimulation towards a response to some internal stimuli" (1966, p. 3). In writing about dreams, telepathy, and ESP potentiality, Ullman, Krippner, and Vaughan (1973, p. 219) stated that the "dream state is a natural arena in which creative energies are at play. Dreams tend to arrange information in unique and emotionally related ways. They break with reality-oriented thought to group things together by 'illogical' association and as a consequence new relationships emerge which can sometimes provide a breakthrough for a waiting and observant mind." We should note here that a deep, contemplative daydream state and one occurring while we sleep may be similar in many ways. For one, we often do not become objectively conscious of many daytime mind-wanderings or reveries just as we can have difficulty in remembering our sleeping-upon-awakening residual dreams. It may be that the movement from objective to narrative to transcendental consciousness, and its relational inverses is a filtering effect or is disrupted, dysfunctional, or undeveloped, (see: (Pribram, in press) for these kinds of consciousness).

Fischer describes a variable speed of brain processes model, (1971). He outlines a continuum of "ergotropic" states of increasing cortical rates which, at the greatest speed, place people in an ecstatic rapture and conjoins with the trophotropic continuum. Slowing down the mind on his "relaxation-meditation continuum" (trophotropic) to a great degree also terminates in an ecstatic rapture and conjoins with the egotropic continuum. So, from Fischer's viewpoint which evolved from the experimentation with legal psychotropic pharmaceutical agents (ergotropic drugs) as well as Eastern states of meditation at the Maryland Psychiatric Center and other medical research centers, speeding up the mind or slowing it down considerably both result in a contemplative-like dream state. Psycho-pharmacology, then, is a way of studying intrapersonal episodes and events.

It should be understood that various stages on Fischer's ergotropic continuum can produce model psychoses or psychotic episodes very similar to those experienced in regular situations of psychic trauma or reactivate previous ones. Ecstasy or "ex-stasis," incidentally, has a hidden meaning. It concerns being stopped or stilled outside of yourself as in the popular coinage, "out of body experience." Some people may be inclined to certain ergotropic or trophotropic neurochemical reactions naturally or due to inborn neurochemical imbalances as well as those neuro-chemical reactions brought on by different pathologies and emotional catharses, for example. Fischer does not seem to postulate any particular brain areas involved and his model is dynamically holistic and based in neurochemical energy transformations.

According to Capra (1975, p. 60), light has a tremendous range in cycles per second, from 106 for AM radio waves to 1014 for visible light to 1028th exponential power for cosmic rays. Where the light described in the psychological, contemplative stances of Christian and Sufi mystics, Buddhist monks, Indian yogi and holyones (muni) fits into the range of light waveforms is puzzling. In tracing the idea of light in meditative traditions, Coomaraswamy (1947) noted that, "Lightening is the standard symbol of divine manifestation, revelation and illumination, a brilliance. . . ." The Buddhist enlightenment is often described as a round radiance; the Greek "moment of illumination" is a sudden flash. To the Christian mystics, the mind "beholds itself wholly radiant with light." This is an anonymous author's description of the attained end of Christian contemplative prayer, stated about the 14th century, and cited by Fischer (1977-78, p. 209). The statement seems to summarize the spirituality of mental light. Fischer further summarizes, "The notion of transfiguration by Light, is a central theme of Greek Orthodox and Roman Catholic as well as Eastern spirituality." The key point here is not religious; the point is that all religious forms of contemplation are profound psychological experiences. The "light" in profound contemplative stances is somehow perceived by the mind "seeing" itself. This seems strangely paradoxical. What kinds of neurological processes are involved is, I believe, uncertain. Perhaps this will always remain a mystery of mind. I do not wish to consider here in any depth the idea that many neuropathologic, psychopathic, and drug-induced mental experiences, as well as hallucinations, often concern the motif of light. Klüver (1966), for example, in describing mescal hallucinations, notes that "The brightness of many visions is so intense as to call forth a blinding sensation," (p. 25). For more detailed descriptions of the nature of hallucinations, see (Fischer, 1974; 1975a; 1975b). Other hallucinatory investigators have described projections of lattice light works, encompassing flashes, glittering geometric form constancies, colored mosaic visions, among others. Some hallucinations are common mental events and are not necessarily dysfunctional. Perhaps the best and earliest scientific and scholarly work on the careful study of intrapersonal hallucinatory images is that of Fischer's.

Space here does not permit any detailed description of religious contemplative traditions, but several other major points are important to the understanding of the processes of deep contemplation besides those mentioned above. Eliade stated that, "A 'center' represents an ideal point belonging not to the profane, geometric space, but to sacred space . . . a center is the paradoxical plane that cuts across the planes; it is a place where the sensuous world may be transcended, (Eliade, 1957, p. 187f).

Centering, or achieving a mental point focus, helps to create the eternal present of the mystics, it is perfect stillness, nonduration, and mental immobility (Eliade, 1957, p. 192). The centering upon the intersect of planes, whether in mandala or cross or "x" or asterisk form, for example, is only an entrancing or entrainment to a deeper synchronicity (or, perhaps an equilibrium of holonomics) involved in beyond-centering activity. When such intersects disappear from the mind, the entrancing can be said to be fulfilled in the eternal mental now, a kind of pure duration. Becoming conscious of this "unconsciousness" can mark the termination of contemplation. While psychic fugues, nostalgic raptures, fantastic futurities and the like approach such depth contemplation, and may indeed induce it, they seem to me to be quite ordinary aspects of "narrative" consciousness, (see Pribram, in press), or a metaphoria of mind, or even a poetics of mind. Previously, I attempted to outline "the deep structure of intrapersonal communication," (Bruneau, 1989). I attempted to show that memory structures (the past), perceptions (the present) and anticipatory expectations (the future) and their integrations, concern the bases of internal communication systems. Perhaps at the very fringes of deeply narrative processes concerning mental mnemonics and futurity are "entrances" to a contemplative transcendental time of being.

Leonard stated that we are a complex of hidden wave forms and resonances, a silent pulse, and "A human being is a "hologram" or holoid of the entire universe. We can call the quality holonomy," (1978, p. 89). However, cortical oscillations, their neurochemical polarities, and their mesobrain interactions are extremely complex and should occupy neuroscientists for many years to come. I am convinced, however, that in the near future spiritual-like, psychological complexities will be further mapped out by a concerted interdisciplinary effort by those studying neurodynamic processes.

Merton, the Christian theologian noted that "finding true solitude is death . . . you find solitude by standing still, here you will discover act without motion (Merton, 1949, p. 59). Merton also said that the true solitary "must not fear that love will destroy his [or her] solitude. Love is his [or her] solitude," (Merton, 1955, p. 251). It is interesting that the idea of God-as-light, and this light being a pure agapic love, are often connected or even equated by theological scholars.

The yin-yang model depicted below was first developed by (Bruneau & Ishii, 1988) and is deceptively simplistic. In their article, Bruneau and Ishii made no claims of completeness, but agreed with Baker's (1955) observation that the goal of communication should be silence. However, they also agreed with the tenets of Confucianism that propriety of expression or appropriateness in both speech and silence (including inner speech) is often necessary to many kinds of thought and action. In this theory, Bruneau and Ishii observed that speech can be yin-ful and deep silence (contemplation) can be yang-ful. Yin and yang can be oppositional and/or complementaryóas well as balanced and synchronous to some degree. These "degrees" can be assessed either in terms of logic (analytical or discriminative thought and perception) or artistic thought (mental narratives and contemplation).

Even blatantly oppositional ideas are included in any yin-yang theory of communication, e.g.: that women are silent and men noisy; that the Far East is silent and the West noisy; that agrarian or nomadic societies are silent while industrial-technological ones are noisy. However, these generalizations are regarded as generally appropriate to yin-yang cycles of particular individuals, groups, organizations, and sociocultural and intracultural factions within and across transcultural boundaries. Nevertheless, loud, aggressive and egocentric utterance or gesture are yin-ful; deep thought and contemplation are yang-ful. The main assumption here is that social or consensually-based expressions (verbal or nonverbal) are more yin-ful than yang-ful. Even intense emotional inner reactions, self-to-self or meta-talk while alone, are more yin-ful than yang-ful.

Social cognition (thought about self-and-other(s) appears to be more yin-ful than the light, aery, flowing aspects of yang-ful dream states, mental reveries, creative theorizings, and doing the "light fantastic" in deep thought. The balancings of solitudinal and social concepts and processes enter the yin-yang theory of communication here. Yin is solitudinal and yang is social and concerns organizational interactive conduct. Yin can be full of divisions, subtractions and oppositional tensions; yang can be full of additions, multiplications, and dynamic relativities.

The following extended excerpt is adapted from (Bruneau & Ishii, 1988):

 

 

 

It is beyond this article to attempt to develop speculative theoretical models in relationship to the precise logic of Ch'i's 64 major permutations in their complex and dynamic changes. The many inner and outer balancing acts between heavy speech and light silence are interesting in this matter. Such balancings give us some binary scientific bases for establishing models of mind with quite a number of states or places with dynamic inter-relatedness between them. Yin is slow and heavy with expression outwardly, (or, inwardly, talking loudlyóintenselyóin our own heads, intrapersonally); yang is light and quick like inward silence levels of thinking fast, levels of interior distance, as in levels of meditative surfaces or as in ecstatic intrapersonal feelings. There are definite movements to and from levels of speech and levels of silence. As Bergson (1911) said, "There may be as many tensions of duration as there are degrees of consciousness" (p. 272).

We are suggesting here, then, that a "cyclic communication continuum" of speechósilence exists (e.g., loud, aggressive utteranceóargumentation and public addressóinterpersonal formalismóintimate speechóspeech to one's self (objective and social cognition)ósubvocal speechónarrative thoughtótranscendental thought or contemplation).

The yin-yang theory of communication is ripe with imaginative potential and is a non-dualistic, yet dualistic, model of personal and social communication. The model depicted above can only pretend to be descriptive. As a static or three dimensional model employing consensual figures (graphemes) and symbols, it contains a delimiting function common to all objective languages or codification systems. It can only point to silence. However, when we infer that the model also depicts continual in-volutions, convolutions, evolutions, and devolutions of neural energy transformations, the model's simplicity complexities. When these energy transformations (rhythmicities) are considered to concern feedback and feedforward cycles, the model can be viewed as cyclic with subsuming cycles. But, yang (silence) seems to have the final word in that open systems concern the creative evolution of novelty or negentropy. We can often attempt to modify cycles of yin-yang, but the Tao relentlessly carries us along; the Tao concerns genetic cycles, earth and cosmic cycles, our life cycles, our mental cycles. The Tao pulls us along, though it is a name which does not name.

The central tenets of Taoism also concern notions about the eternal present. Lao Tsu noted long ago.

From the theoretical perspective here, my interpretation of Lao Tsu is that the "mother" (contemplation) bears forth her children as a world of ten thousand insights, awakenings to self and others, sudden intuitions, and profound personal and objective revelations of many kinds.

The Sufi experience, or the wisdom of the desert holyones (including the early Christian "desert fathers" (Merton, 1960) or mystics), is captured nicely by Cragg as to the peace and serenity to be achieved by contemplation.

In this poetic image, running water seems to concern the time of becoming and the calm, mirrored sea appears to concern the time of being. Slow flowing rivers and pools can be viewed as conceptual objective conscious processes; tumbling brooks, rivulets, and water falls can describe the flows of narrative consciousness; the calm sea can be related to transcendental contemplation.

Coomaraswamy, perhaps the greatest time scholar of the esoteric traditions, seems to point to the difficult problem of achieving an understanding of a spiritual level of contemplation best, when he summarized his great book: "[those] who cannot escape from the standpoint of temporal succession so as to see all things in their simultaneity [are] incapable of the least conception of the metaphysical order" (1947, p. 139).

Barriers to Contemplation

Throughout this essay have been many underlying suggestions about achieving deeper kinds of contemplation. Many hurried people have never achieved any depth of contemplation (from New York City to Tokyo) and are somewhat empty of interior distances. These people live on their lips, living on egocentric surfaces in their behaviors and habitual patterns of thought. It is a sad condition which I tried to describe long ago when writing about barriers to silence in a clock-oriented noisy society. I tried to describe such a style of living as "clock insanity," (Bruneau, 1974), a hectic frenzy of running from place to place on measured "time ribbons," or worn avenues of physical and mental quickness, devoid of the slightest inner depth. Clocks, extensions of the clock, or objective time "pacers," can keep us running from point to point the moment we wake until we sleep, over and over, again and again each day at the fastest pace possible. Even on vacations many people are often filled with busi-ness to the point of exhaustion.

Lewis seems to have gotten to the root of the problem: "Everything in our life today conspires to thrust people into prescribed tracks, in what can be called a sort of trance of action. Hurrying, without any significant reason, from spot to spot at the maximum speed obtainable, drugged in that mechanical activity, how is the typical individual of this epoch to do some detached thinking for himself? All his life is disposed with a view to banishing reflection. To be alone he finds terrifying," (1927, p. vii). Surprisingly, this 1927 statement seems fitting today. In 1994 this condition has become extremely severe, especially with the increasingly banal and perverse consumption of our media products. As Burlingame (1966) noted, we are increasingly becoming rigidly regimented by a "dictator clock." The media is very clock-like in its programming. Eiseley (1962, p. 30) observed that, "many of us who walk to and fro upon our usual tasks are prisoners drawing mental maps of escape." It is curious to me how we glance at our wristwatches or public time pieces, how often each day. The accompanying facial gestures to clock glances, the worry, tension, and a comical awe, are interesting.

Masunaga (1958), in interpreting the Zen master Dogen, wrote, "To study the self is to forget the self. To forget the self is to be enlightened by all things. To be enlightened by all things is to be free from attachment to the body and mind of one's self and of others," (p. 59). The reference here to "mind" concerns ego and "social cognition," not contemplation. Merton (1955, p. 257) commented that, "It is the silence of the world that is real, our noise, our business, our purposes, and all our fatuous statements about our purposes, our business, and our noise: these are the illusion." Tillich (1963) outlines the scope of the problem.

The corporate world, too, is full of the noisy shufflings, clickings and beepings of objective clock-bound thinking and activities.

The fear of being alone, the fear of discovering an ill-esteemed dark negativity or ugly self within, and the view that talk and doing are the only forms of intelligence worth pursuing are really underlying rigid attitudes which are barriers preventing our contemplating. When these attitudes are mixed with a denial of the enlightenment to be found in solitude and the silencing of regular thinking, contemplation becomes hopelessly impossible. Also, vain protests that solitude is impossible to find seem to cancel out silence-as-mind. What is not recognized is that one can be silent and invisible in a crowd, just as one can be in noisy mental confusions while alone in the middle of a great desert. Some people, such as those experiencing a deeply narrative consciousness, such as that in the "life of Walter Mitty," apparently, could conceivably move into a contemplation in the heat of a committee meeting. The creative products flowing into modes of narrative and objective consciousness, out of episodes of contemplation (transcendental consciousness) are absent in ego-bound activities. When the flow-in from episodes of contemplation is absent, I contend, the creative and unique self is not capable of self-discovery. Without contemplation the self-as-personal-identity may go unrecognized for an entire life time and may never grow in depth.

Being a teacher at heart, I am prone to giving careful communication advice. But, the advisory below can seem radical and I am sometimes doubtful about prescription. Nevertheless, perhaps the two major intrapersonal communication prescriptions evolving from this essay are these:

References

Response from Leonard J. Shedletsky

This essay, a poetic appeal to seek inner knowledge, does not promise to offer data. It appeals to the heart. Will the reader know when she or he finds the silence?

Author's Last Word

Hey, Leonard, the "finding" is in the yin-yang cycle = no permanent knowledge states exist. So, "knowledge is ignorance." T. B.

Intrapersonal Communication and Meditation

Thomas Baglan 


About the Author: Thomas Baglan is a professor in the Speech Communication Department at Arkansas State University.

Abstract: Both the psychological and physiological benefits of meditation are summarized as well as the relationship between meditation and intrapersonal communication.

 

When the average person thinks of meditation the image that comes to mind may be that of Buddhist monks sitting in the lotus position waiting for enlightenment. This image provides an incomplete representation and, unfortunately, overlooks other contexts in which meditation is practiced and other beneficial outcomes that may result from that practice (LeShan, 1974).

The forms of meditation are numerous. Indeed, any individual can find a method of meditating suited to her or his temperament. Meditation may involve sitting quietly, counting one's breaths, chanting, repeating a word or phrase, thinking about a particular concept, or contemplating an object. There are also types of "moving meditation" such as Tai Chi, which is a series of movements widely practiced in China and other Eastern cultures. It is suggested that these moving meditations may be well suited for Westerners since they do not call for long periods of inaction.

The benefits of meditation are also numerous. Basically, meditation produces a physiological state of deep relaxation together with a wakeful and highly alert mental state. Those who practice meditation tend to have a lower metabolic rate as well as decreases in heartbeat, blood pressure and lower respiration rates. Changes in the skin's resistance to mild electric current, changes in the lactate concentration of blood, and changes in patterns of brain waves all are indicative of physiological changes associated with reductions of tension and anxiety.

Psychological benefits are also prevalent. Meditation has been found to bring about decreases in anxiety, phobias, and stress. Meditators tend to score lower on measures of neuroses and test anxiety. Other studies show that regular meditation brings about marked decreases in rates of drug, alcohol and cigarette usage, and lessening of psychosomatic complaints. Meditators tend to show increases on measures of self-esteem, and increased feelings of an internal locus of control. Counselors who are taught to meditate develop greater levels of empathy for their clients than nonmeditators. Prisoners who are taught to meditate and do so regularly have much lower rates of recidivism than nonmeditators.

The process of intrapersonal communication would seem to be served by practice in meditation as well. Meditation seems to "quiet" the mind, resulting in less self-talk. To the extent that an individual's self-talk is negative or deleterious, a reduction in such activity would benefit the individual. Feelings of isolation which may lead to negative self-images may be reduced by the ability to develop greater levels of empathy with others. Reductions in tension and anxiety may result in an increased awareness of one's patterns of thought and an ability to restructure such patterns if desirable. Intrapersonal conflict may also be reduced and such conflict more easily resolved due to reductions in anxiety, tension and increases in self-esteem.

References

Response from Leonard J. Shedletsky

Where can the reader find the sources of evidence for the claims made about meditation in this article?

Indian Thought and the Intrapersonal Consequences of Speaking: Implications for Ethics in Communication

William G. Kirkwood

About the Author: William G. Kirkwood is a professor in the Department of Communication, Box 70,667, East Tennessee State University, Johnson City, TN 37614-0667, telephone (615) 929-4170. An earlier version of this article was presented at the annual convention of the Speech Communication Association, Atlanta, 1991.


Abstract: Based on its understanding of the intrapersonal effects of speech, traditional Indian thought holds that ethical speech is not only a moral obligation, but also a discipline by which people can gain self-knowledge and psychological freedom. After describing Indian ideas about the self and speech, this essay proposes five guidelines for ethical communication. While these guidelines reflect traditional Indian values, they are of potential value in their own right, apart from their original cultural context.

Perspective:

1. Communication scholars often study the effects of speech on audiences. How does the act of speaking affect speakers?

2. How do ideas about self, self-knowledge and freedom in traditional Indian philosophy inform its understanding of communication?

3. How relevant are traditional Indian ideas for contemporary communication practice?

 

Two ancient collections of Indian stories, the Panchatantra and the Jatakamala, both tell versions of this fable. Once a draught was drying up a lake where two ganders lived. Resolving to fly to a new home, they said farewell to their friend, the turtle. He replied, "I will surely die when this lake dries up. Please take me with you." "We cannot," said the ganders, "for you have no wings." Faced with slow and certain death, the turtle was not easily dismissed. "Fetch a stout stick," he said to the ganders, "and each of you hold an end in your beak. I will grasp the middle in my mouth, and we can all fly to safety." The ganders objected that the plan would never work, for the turtle was known for his talkativeness; he could never keep still for the length of the journey. "Ah, but faced with these terrible circumstances, I must," said the turtle. "I now take a vow of silence, to last as long as we are aloft." Still doubtful, the ganders agreed, and the three soared heavenward, the turtle grasping the stick for dear life. All went well, and the ganders searched for a new home. In time they flew over a small village, and people there noticed the strange spectacle. "What is that peculiar object those ganders are carrying?" they asked one another busily. Hearing all this, the hapless turtle responded, "What's it to you?" With this he crashed to the ground, where the people carved up his body for food (see Ryder, 1925, pp. 147-149; DeRoin, 1975, pp. 10-11).

Traditional Indian thought stresses that speaking has direct and sometimes dire effects on speakers. While unrestrained speech is considered dangerous, so, too, is unethical speech. For instance, the Mahabharata describes how a raja's chariot soared aloft when he told the truth, but plummeted when he lied (in Hopkins, 1968, pp. 97-98). I have argued elsewhere (Kirkwood, 1987, 1989) that the events depicted in the stories of the turtle and the raja are not simply threats used to coerce ethical behavior. Rather, they are metaphors of the intrapersonal effects of speech on speakers. In addition to these metaphorical treatments, one can also find in classical Indian philosophy a more explicit account of the internal, psychological effects of speech on speakers. Moreover, Indian thought does not merely admonish people to avoid talkativeness and unethical speech, but stresses the positive effects of "right speech" on speakers. In one well-known legend a murderous robber chants a sacred mantra for so long that ants build their home over his unmoving body, and he becomes Valmiki, "the anthill sage" (Narayan, 1986, pp. 100-115); in another tale, a prostitute's utterly truthful speech makes the Ganges flow upstream (in Zimmer, 1971, pp. 161-162). Thus one encounters in traditional Indian thought the belief that right speech is not merely a moral obligation, but a discipline, or sadhana, by which people can gain self-knowledge and psychological freedom.

Indian ideas about speech and self-knowledge can complement existing work on communication ethics in several respects. Dissanayake (1987, p. 159) observes, "In Western models, intrapersonal communication leads to interpersonal communication, but in the Indian model interpersonal communication is secondary to intrapersonal communication." By focusing on the effects of speaking on speakers themselves, study of Indian thought can complement approaches to communication ethics dominated by concern for the effects of speech on listeners or society at large. Illustrative of the latter perspective are the positions of Johannesen (1990) and Nilsen (1974). Both hold that the ethical dimension of communication entails how speakers' behavior affects the well-being of others. Johannesen writes:

Similarly, Nilsen observes, "Morally right speech, like any morally right behavior, is that which contributes to the well-being of others, to their fulfillment as human beings" (p. 18). However, in a note he encourages his readers to "consider the implications" of the view that "there are also ethical questions relative to the effects on the speaker himself of his own communicating" (p. 14).

Nilsen (1974) chose not to address these effects explicitly, but there is much to be gained by doing so. Concern for the social consequences of speech is essential, of course, but it alone may not be sufficient to guide ethical behavior. As Bok (1978, p. 24) notes, speakers easily underestimate these consequences when making ethical decisions. Moreover, the potential effects of speech on others are notoriously difficult to predict. Thus, it may be useful to consider also the effects of speech on speakers. In any event, such considerations are necessary to have a complete picture of the nature and consequences of ethical speech. A noteworthy effort to explore this issue is Kupfer's (1982) study of the effects of lying on the character of speakers. He argues that the "self-opposition or internal conflict involved in speaking what one disbelieves . . . threatens the integration of the liar's personality" (p. 103). The present essay will apply a similar perspective to several aspects of ethical communication by drawing on the long-standing emphasis on intrapersonal communication in Indian thought.

Finally, approaching right speech as a sadhana calls attention to the demands which the effort to speak makes on speakers. Often ethical decision-making considers what might happen after one speaks, but this, too, gives an incomplete picture of the consequences of communicating. Kupfer (1982, pp. 103, 125) argues that lying allows people to avoid what would otherwise require strength of character and "inclines the liar in the direction of disrespect for others." These are not after-effects of lying, they are part of the process of lying itself. Conversely, studying traditional Indian thought will show that right speech also makes demands on people, much as the successful performance of a musical score requires sensitivity from the player, rather than bestowing it. Part of the ethics of any speech act thus involves whether people must develop desirable or undesirable aspects of their personalities in order to perform the act. Nilsen (1974, p. 14) stresses that ethical communication is that which "develops, enlarges, [or] enhances human personalities," and studying the Indian critique of the intrapersonal consequences of speech for speakers will expand the scope of this premise.

This essay will describe an understanding of speech, self-knowledge, and freedom which emerges from classical Indian thought, particularly as found in the Upanishads and in Sankhya-Yoga thought, the latter being known for its distinctly psychological orientation.1 Then it will argue that five guidelines for ethical communication can be derived from this understanding. While the essay will summarize traditional Indian ideas, its main objective is to use these ideas to develop guidelines for communication which are of potential value in their own right, apart from their original cultural or historical context.

Speech, Self-Knowledge and Freedom

An understanding of the relationship between speech, self-knowledge, and freedom must begin with an account of the nature of the self.2 Kena Upanishad (I.1-9) stresses that the self (or atman) is not something which can be seen, heard, uttered, or even thought of. Neither is it the act of seeing, hearing, speaking, or thinking; it is the very awareness which makes possible all of these. Thus Aitareya Upanishad (III.5.1-4) says the self is pure "consciousness." This, too, is the nature of the self (purusha) in Sankhya-Yoga (Organ, 1964, p. 69). Hence self-knowledge consists in experiencing the self as consciousness itself, rather than as the contents of consciousness or even as the psychophysical processes which deliver and manipulate those contents. Ordinarily people do not know the self as consciousness, however. Rather they identify with the various roles, activities, and tendencies which define the empirical ego, the self of "name and form" (nama-rupa). This empirical ego is a historical, social, and symbolic construct, similar to what Mead (1934, pp. 135-144) meant by the "self." If one defines the self as a collection of "names and forms," then self-knowledge consists in perceiving accurately the beliefs, predispositions and actions of this self. However, for classical Indian thought this is not sufficient. Rather, one must know the source of awareness itself.

Although accurate knowledge of the various traits of the empirical ego (i.e., "a valid self-concept") is essential for daily living, Vedanta and Sankhya-Yoga stress that identifying with this self of name and form obscures knowledge of the self as consciousness. According to classical Indian thought this is the condition in which most people find themselves. It is not only a condition of ignorance (avidya), but also the source of suffering, limitation and selfishness. On the other hand, knowing the self as consciousness is held to be liberating. It not only frees one from pain and confinement; it frees one to live more mindfully, flexibly, and unselfishly.

This is so for three reasons. First, identifying with the empirical self causes suffering, because this self is defined by a collection of biological and social forms, and all forms are threatened by unwanted changeójust as the turtle's life was threatened by the draught. By comparison, because the atman is formless consciousness itself, it is unaffected by any such change and hence free from suffering.3 In such freedom lies a capacity for greater awareness of life, unbound by fear. Second, because the ego is defined by and indeed clings to certain forms of life, their limitations are its limitations. Since every form is limited in some way, the ego itself is necessarily limited. The turtle's inability to fly symbolizes this limitation. In realizing the pure awareness of the self, however, lies freedom of responseósymbolized by the ganders (hamsas), traditional symbols of spiritual freedom in Hinduism (Zimmer, 1953, pp. 35, 47-50).

Third, preoccupation with the empirical ego leads one to perceive oneself as fundamentally unique and separate from other people and life forms. Even fairly universal conceptions of the ego (e.g., "I'm a human being") necessarily imply separation from some other forms (e.g., "I'm not a plant"), and such differences deepen as the self-concept is more narrowly defined ("I'm a man, an American, a professor"). For Vedanta and Sankhya-Yoga philosophy awareness of the self as consciousness is necessary to discover one's connection to all life. Dissanayake writes, "[The Indian model] asserts that if communication is to be truly functional, intrapersonal communication must lead to a transpersonal communication in which oneness with the world is unambiguously perceived" (1987, p. 159). This "transpersonal communication" is to be attained via the realization of the true self, which for Sankhya-Yoga is quite literally "consubstantial" with the selves of all other sentient beings (Organ, 1964, p. 69), and is for the Upanishads the individual expression of Brahman, the divine reality which pervades and unifies all life (Organ, 1964, pp. 52-55).

Thus knowing the self as pure consciousness both defines self-knowledge and is an essential precondition for psychological freedom. How, then, do such ideas bear on the practice of speech? Kupfer (1982) argues that right speech permits one to integrate one's character and beliefs, but for classical Indian thought right speech is essential if one is to set aside preoccupation with the self of name and form and know the nature of consciousness itself. Specifically, the foregoing analysis suggests that to achieve self-knowledge and psychological freedom, one must accomplish three things, each of which depends on right speech.

First, one must attain a unified, quiet state of mind, for to the degree one's mind is divided or scattered, it is impossible to know the self as consciousness, because this self is characterized by quietude and utter simplicity. Since some kinds of speech churn up the mind, while others help quiet it, this implies a guideline for right speech. Second, one must abandon notions of oneself as the empirical ego, separate from the rest of life. Because ordinarily speech is a principal means of identifying with the ego and pursuing its impulses (see Eliade, 1973, p. 27; Kirkwood, 1987, p. 7; Zimmer, 1971, p. 319), it is essential to practice speech which does not have these effects. Third, to accomplish the first two objectives, one must gain control of one's thoughts and actions. This is accomplished in part by investing one's speech with "intrapersonal authority." If one's speech lacks this inner authority, one is deprived of a valuable instrument for mastering one's inner life and outer conduct, and this makes it difficult to act in ways which promote self-knowledge.

I find the distinction between the self as empirical ego and the self as pure consciousness a fruitful one, regardless of whether one accepts the larger metaphysical system which gives rise to it. But even were one to reject this distinction, the three objectives which arise from it would still be quite useful. Attaining a quiet, unified mind; abandoning a sense of self as separate from the rest of life; and investing one's speech with greater intrapersonal authority are worthy goals in their own right.

Guidelines for Speech

Five guidelines for speech are suggested by the foregoing analysis. Following the method of Patanjali, a second century, B. C. E., Sankhya-Yoga philosopher, one may characterize each as a "restraint" (or yama)ósomething to be avoidedóand as an "observance" (niyama)ósomething to be done. Although these guidelines stress the effects of speech on speakers, they also consider its effects on others. For whatever one seeks to achieve for oneself through speech, one should practice with respect to others. To do otherwise is to perpetuate the very sense of ego-involvement and separateness which one seeks to overcome. Hence, the following discussion will demonstrate that regard for the effects of speech on speakers yields ethical guidelines which serve others, as well.

ï1. One should restrain the impulse for internal or overt speech and master the practice of silence.

As the fable of the turtle illustrates, Indian thought warns that "excessive talkativeness" is a formidable obstacle to self-knowledge, regardless of the quality of one's speech. The inability to restrain speech blocks self-knowledge for two reasons. First, incessant inner or overt speech reflects and perpetuates a state of mental restlessness entirely incompatible with knowledge of the self as quiescent consciousness. Second, the continual, unrestrained impulse to speak reflects ego-preoccupation run amuck, and such preoccupation blocks self-knowledge.

Accordingly, one should learn to restrain the urge to speak. Specifically, this means refraining from what Vyasa (seventh-eighth century, C. E.) calls "sterile" speech, that which does not serve productive ends for oneself or others (Eliade, 1973, p. 49; Hariharananda, 1983, p. 208). Moreover, one should moderate the need to express one's opinions, for while self-expression is not harmful, the inability to keep one's thoughts to one's self is. Apart from reflecting mental restlessness and the dominance of the ego, the unrestrained urge for self-expression also makes it difficult to learn by listening to others (sravana).

Ultimately, one must be capable of both overt and internal silence (maunam). This mastery does not, however, require constant outward silence, as practiced in some monastic communities, though it may be aided by it. Rather one must learn to master silence as a discrete performance of a specific duration, just as one learns to perform a text, a dance, or a song. Yoga psychology maintains that knowledge of the self as consciousness will arise naturally when complete internal stillness (vritti nirodha) is sustained effortlessly for a sufficient length of time, on the order of minutes, not hours or days (see Eliade, 1973, pp. 71-72n). Yet although such moments are comparatively brief, they are difficult to achieve. The purpose, therefore, of learning to restrain the impulse to speak and cultivating a more quiet way of life is to enable the performance of moments of utter quietude, in which self-knowledge and hence psychological freedom may arise.

As regards communication with others, one cannot master silence for them, but one can help create contexts and environments which briefly relieve others of the nearly incessant obligation to speak or be spoken to.

ï2. One should avoid language which fosters ego-identification in oneself or others and select language which promotes accurate knowledge of the empirical ego.

Because preoccupation with the various "names and forms," tendencies, and activities which constitute the empirical self hinders knowledge of the self as consciousness, it is essential to restrain speech which encourages such preoccupation. On this view, expressions such as "I'm proud to be an American," "I've got a headache," "I'm very shy," and "I scored three goals" are especially problematic, since they express and thus reinforce identification with social identities, physical symptoms, the personality, and personal actions, respectively. Similar expressions are equally troublesome when applied to others, as in "You're such a procrastinator" or "You're a real hunk."

These examples make clear that ordinarily speech is shot through with ego-preoccupation, and restraining all such speech seems a tall order, perhaps an impossible one. On the other hand, knowing the traits of the empirical ego is essential for improving one's life and relations with others. Therefore, one should value speech which accurately describes the empirical self, but preferably forego ways of expressing such knowledge which most strongly reinforce ego-identification in oneself or others. On this view, if one wanted to express approval of the egalitarian values of the United States, it would be wise to find other ways to do so than proclaiming, "I'm proud to be an American." Telling a friend, "You often turn in assignments late" would be preferable to "You're such a procrastinator," although the former expression is far from perfect. Similarly, "My head aches" is better than "I've got a headache." "This head aches" might be better still, but it seems awkward and affected. However, this example shows we pay a price for the linguistic convenience of "I," "me" and "my." Perhaps for this reason Sufis insist that the use of "I" is blasphemy, since only God can truthfully utter this pronoun (Schimmel, 1975, pp. 25-26). If one cannot do without the convenience of such language, perhaps one might at least moderate it and not take self-referential comments too seriously.

ï3. One should restrain speech which arouses strong desires or aversions in oneself or others and practice speech which promotes attitudes of desirelessness.

Because the empirical self is incomplete and vulnerable to unexpected or unwanted change, identifying with it leads one to desire some things and fear others. Conversely, such cravings and fears reinforce preoccupation with the empirical self. When one "desires" or "fears" something, one links her or his emotional well-being and sense of self worth to gaining or avoiding it, and feelings of inadequacy or incompleteness replace knowledge of the self as formless consciousness. Therefore, one should avoid speech which intensifies or reinforces inadequacy, desire or aversion in oneself. It is also unethical to try to arouse such feelings in others. Moreover, people as auditors should avoid messages which arouse strong desires or fears in them. It should be stressed that this guideline does not judge some desires as "bad" while others are "good," but rather asserts that all desiring and fearing reinforce ego-involvement, make the mind restless and distracted, and thus deter knowledge of the self as consciousness.

This analysis has far-reaching implications for the practice of communication. One might readily agree that it is unethical to arouse desires or fears which are contrary to people's best interests, but the present critique goes further, suggesting that communication should not arouse in people any strong desires or aversions, as defined above. On this view the intense desire to save children from starvation can reinforce ego-preoccupation as much as the desire to own a Ferrariómore so, because a desire to rescue children is not easily dismissed as egoic. Hence, a thorough re-examination of persuasive communication is required.

The preferred alternative is to communicate in ways which promote an attitude of desirelessness (vairagya) in oneself and others. In traditional Indian culture several kinds of speech are held to promote this attitude. These include poetic expression and dramatic performance which foster the detached awareness of universal feeling states, or rasas (Deutsch, 1975; Kirkwood, 1990); and the speech of those who unselfishly perform their duty (dharma) in service to the larger social or natural order of which they are a part (see Brown, 1940,1972; Kirkwood, 1987, 1989). Such forms of expression are also possible in contemporary western cultures, but at present they do not seem to be highly valued; in light of the present analysis, perhaps they should be.

This analysis also suggests that persuasive appeals should be grounded in the recognition of what is wise, compassionate, or fitting, rather than in desires or fears born of the insecurity of the empirical self. Persuasion based on such principles would, for instance, call upon people to help hungry children because it is fitting and right to do so. Rather than trying to arouse an intense desire to "do good" or avoid guilty feelings, it would seek to show people how they can exercise wisdom and compassion in a given case.

ï4. One should restrain speech which is not consistent with one's thoughts or actions and practice truthfulness.

Classical Indian thought stresses that falsehood and duplicity undermine self-knowledge, but truthfulness promotes it and thus is liberating (Kirkwood, 1989). Although there are several aspects of truthfulness, I will focus on only one of these here. People speak truthfully, Vyasa states, when their speech "accords with their thoughts and deeds" (Eliade, 1973, p. 49; Hariharananda, 1983, p. 208). When they fail to do so by saying one thing and thinking or doing another, two obstacles to self-knowledge arise. First, when speech and thoughts or deeds are inconsistent the mind itself is divided, and a divided mind cannot know the self as consciousness (which, say the Upanishads, is "one without a second"). Second, when people regularly speak in ways inconsistent with their thoughts or when they do not act as they say they will, they fail to perceive any connection between their speech and their attitudes and behavior. Thus untruthfulness tends to deprive one's speech of intrapersonal authority, and one loses a powerful instrument for mastering one's life.

Therefore people should strive to "make the heart and the lips the same," as Ramakrishna put it (in Prabhavananda & Isherwood, 1969, p. 98). It is also important to "be true to one's word" in daily actions (Kirkwood, 1989, p. 222). The consistent practice of truthfulness unifies the mind, helps relieve one of the need for incessant inner speech ("to keep one's story straight"), and invests one's words with intrapersonal authority, all of which promote self-knowledge and freedom.

In addition to its effects on speakers, truthful speech benefits others. For classical Indian thought perhaps the greatest of these benefits is the opportunity to gain knowledge from hearing truthful speech. However, in his commentary on the Yoga-Sutras Vyasa adds an important qualifier regarding the effects of truthful speech on listeners: If what one thinks to be true would cause harm to another, it should not be spoken, for "it is not the truth, but only a sin" (Eliade, 1973, p. 49; Hariharananda, 1983, p. 208). Thus the practice of truthfulness should always be guided by consideration for the welfare of others. This does not require lying, but it does mean that speakers must learn how to express the truth in harmless ways or keep it to themselves. This is a worthy discipline in its own right.

ï5. One should restrain speech which denigrates others or oneself and practice speech which honors others and oneself.

In addition to its disregard for the dignity of another or oneself, speech which devalues others or oneself also obstructs self-knowledge and with it freedom. Insofar as judgmental or unkind speech is motivated by the insecurity of the empirical ego, such speech reinforces speakers' identification with this sense of self. Furthermore, speech which devalues others disregards their status as conscious beings and treats them as mere objects, as Kant might put it. Such treatment will hinder others' self-knowledge if it leads them to adopt identities based on, for instance, gender, race, or more unique individual traits. Of course, if others are devalued by speech they may nonetheless be wise enough not to "take the bait." But whatever its effects on others, speech calculated to devalue others will certainly obstruct speakers' self-knowledge. In treating others as objects not worthy of respect, speakers necessarily adopt this identity themselves. This identity is not because unkind speech changes the spiritual status of the speaker, but simply because the way in which speakers view others is implicitly the way they view themselves. Speech which devalues others is based on the belief that the speaker and the other are fundamentally different and separate, and this belief derives its support from the still more basicó and mistakenóidea that all people, including oneself, are empirical selves comprising different names and forms.

Therefore people should avoid speech which denigrates others or themselves. This avoidance includes name-calling and sexist and racist language, as well as persuasive strategies which assume the inferior status of others, such as manipulation. Furthermore, while people should not try to demean others or themselves, they should also avoid speech which would seem likely to have this effect, even if this is not their intent. As noted earlier, predicting the effects of communication is not always easy, but part of a sadhana of right speech is learning to be increasingly sensitive to others' frames of mind and their likely responses to one's speech.

Finally, because the Indian ethics of ahimsa or nonviolence means more than avoiding doing harm, but rather implies nurturing and supporting life, speakers should actively seek to affirm the worth of others and themselves. It is noteworthy in this regard that while the compassion (karuna) of the Buddha (or "awakened one") is lauded in Buddhist scripture, so is his "friendliness" (maitri) toward all sentient beings (see Conze, 1954, pp. 34, 124, 154, 168). This friendliness, even more so than compassion, affirms the worth of those befriended. In being a friend to all beings, the awakened one affirms that differences in "name and form" do not determine one's worth. Paradoxically, learning to appreciate and enjoy the unique qualities of every person (including oneself!) is an especially powerful and gentle way of dissolving preoccupation with such qualities. Speech which displays "universal friendship" can thus promote self-knowledge and freedom in speakers and others.

Notes

1 On the psychological emphasis of Sankhya-Yoga, Chethimattam (1971, p. 76) writes: "The Samkhya-Yoga schools present the psychological context for a metaphysics of the person." For summaries of Sankhya-Yoga thought, see Chethimattam (1971), Eliade (1969), and Zimmer (1971).

2 For an extended discussion of classical Indian theories of the self, see Organ (1964).

3 On the freedom of the atman from suffering, see the Bhagavad Gita (II.20-25), a portion of which reads: "Swords cut one not. . . . Unmanifest one, unthinkable one, unchangeable one is declared to be; Therefore knowing one this Thou shouldst not mourn" (Edgerton, 1972, p. 11).

References

Response from Leonard J. Shedletsky

Kirkwood gives us a chance to glimpse Indian philosophy of the self, truth, knowledge and freedom. One idea that runs through the essay is that speech affects the speaker as well as the other. Speech affects the speaker's self-knowledge and freedom. "The intrapersonal consequences of speech for the speaker" is a phrase Kirkwood uses. Does it feel right to you?

Thinking About God: A Cognitive Science Perspective

Dale E. Gauthreaux

About the Author: Dale E. Gauthreaux is at the Department of Communication and Theatre, Augustana College, Box H-2192, Sioux Falls, SD 57197, telephone (605) 336-5483. This article was previously presented to the Commission on Intrapersonal Communication Processes at the annual meeting of the Speech Communication Association, Chicago, 1992.


Abstract: Religious knowledge has always been difficult to characterize and explain. Given the metaphysical assumptions of religion, religious knowing is virtually impossible to explain from a cognitive perspective. However, this essay posits a cognitive explanation for religious knowing without the metaphysical presumptions and articulates some of the ways such a perspective might enhance our understanding of religious thought as well as cognitive processes.

Perspective:

1. How is thinking about religious matters different from (or the same as) thinking about other matters, e.g., intellectual propositions, emotional feelings, aesthetic enjoyment?

2. In what way does an associative network of memory structure enhance the social science understanding of religious thought?

 

That religion plays a significant role in our individual lives [influencing behavior and beliefs] and collective lives [providing group identity and cohesion] is unquestionable (Stevens, 1986). Neuhaus (1986), citing numerous surveys, demonstrated the significance of religion in American life in terms of affiliation, participation, doctrinal orthodoxy, and subjective statements of importance. Watts and Williams (1988) noted that psychologists have studied these externals of religion because of the pragmatic ease in objective measurement.

Regardless of the importance, religious thought has received inadequate attention in the study of human behavior. Though William James as early as the late 1800s stressed the importance of religion in the life of the individual, the psychological study of these phenomena has been limited and fragmentary. Whether due to the multiplicity of inputs (theology, philosophy, emotion, motivation, self or personality) or some other reason, the result is an element of human activity without complete explanation. Yet due to the historical influences of religion in this country, virtually everyone has developed some kind of religious orientation, i.e., they possess religious knowledge and some view as to the purpose of religious belief or faith. Perhaps the most significant work done in the psychology of religion within the last 25 years has been the development and use of the intrinsic-extrinsic measure of religiosity to analyze these orientations (Allport, 1966; Allport & Ross, 1967; Batson & Ventis, 1982; Brown, 1964; Donahue, 1985; Hood, 1970; Hunt & King, 1971; Kahoe, 1974).1 These studies deal with the operation of religiousness within the individual in a traitlike manner and not with the cognitive elements of the religious beliefs.

Eister (1974), however, has noted that the emphasis in the study of religion has changed from what religion is to "how language that is called religious is used" (p. 2). Regardless of the perspective taken of religious knowledge, scholarship has been lacking a cognitive explanation addressing the structures and processes of these beliefs. This essay attempts to provide the basis for how an explanation of religious knowledge might be accounted for within cognitivism. In order to adequately accomplish this goal, the ultimate purpose of this work will be to posit possible cognitive structures and processes for religious thought (Greene, 1984). Before one can begin to examine these components, however, an understanding of how religion and religious knowledge have been addressed in the literature is necessary.

Definition of Religion

Within the psychology literature, religion has been characterized in three ways. The religious phenomena is defined by (a) its structure; (b) its functions; and/or (c) a mystical or metaphysical experience. Though these categories are not mutually exclusive or comprehensive, they seem to be the dominant modes by which religion is described. A brief look at each of these should benefit this essay's subsequent analyses.

One way in which religion has been defined is based on the structure of the beliefs or symbols. Sadler (1970) contends that "For social scientists the term religion usually signifies a social system of beliefs, practices, and a moral code which unite into a community those who adopt them" (p. 22). Likewise, Spiro's (1966) definition posits a structural approach in which

A second manner for characterizing religion is based upon the specific functions of the structures. Geertz (1966) defined religion affectively as

Batson and Ventis (1982) define religion as the function or activity of confronting the "existential questions" of life. Specifically, they state that religion is "whatever we as individuals do to come to grips personally with the questions that confront us because we are aware that we and others like us are alive and that we will die" (p. 7) Thus, religious beliefs are developed from the answering of these "life and death" questions.

A third definitional category is that which views religion based upon the idea of some mystical or metaphysical experience. In his discussion of religiosity, Alton (1986) notes,

An additional manner in which religion has been characterized is in Spilka's (1986b) analysis of religion and psychotherapy. In this work, he presents five ways in which religion relates to mental disorder: as an expression of abnormality, as a socializing and suppressing force, as a haven, as therapy, and as a hazard. Thus, he notes that religion might serve the mentally distressed by offering self-esteem, control, and meaning. Certainly these perspectives overlap and coincide at points, but undoubtedly, each of these approaches yields a different picture of religion and its role in human behavior.

Characterization of Religious Belief

Characterizing and defining beliefs in general is a task which by itself presents numerous difficulties. To attempt such a clarification in terms of religious knowledge complicates the matter. The question which must be addressed in this formulation is whether religious knowledge is a special kind of entity or whether religious concerns are merely the content of ordinary knowledge constructs. Though Watts and Williams (1988) argue that religious knowing is an "unusual" kind of knowledge, they contend that it is not necessarily a "unique" one:

Thus it can be concluded from this perspective that "religious knowing involves, not so much coming to know a separate religious world, as coming to know the religious dimension of the everyday world" (p. 151). Such a view certainly posits religious knowledge as the content of ordinary knowledge structures.

In contrast, a perspective has been offered which views religious belief or thought as distinctively different from most of the other human thought processes. In order to even discuss beliefs within this perspective requires one to move beyond a humanist-scientific perspective and assume a mystical or transcendental world-view (Frank, 1977). In the latter view, one "assumes the existence of one or more realities which are accessible only to states of consciousness other than the ordinary waking one" (p. 556). So Hoffman (1976) argues "metaphysical assertions [belief statements] do not simply present transcendent facts, super-data so to speak. Rather, their function is to define the context within which the ordinary facts of our experience are to be interpreted" (p. 122). In a slightly different vein, Fowler (1981) differentiates "faith" from the more classical understanding of religious belief. He argues:

It is a similar notion of faith which led Spilka (1986a) to view religion as a multidimensional component of daily living. Thus, faith could possess reason or deny reason in its formulation. For Aquinas, faith was the practice of accepting certain beliefs on the authority of the church with logical reason as subsidiary to the decision-making .

From a physiological perspective,2 Gazzaniga (1985) notes that with the evolution of the left-brain interpreter religious beliefs were inevitable. Though Rumelhart and colleagues (1987) note that we are "a long way from connecting our more abstract networks with particular brain structures" (Vol. 2, p 552), Gazzaniga contends that "explanations were generated and institutions created [within the mind] to manage and deal with the issues of human existence and cosmic origin" (p. 166). This assertion was made from the observation that a particular lesion in the temporal lobe would lead to (a) a deepening of religious beliefs (and switching from one belief to another without apparent cause), (b) desire to write extensively, and (c) performance of bizarre sexual activity. Gazzaniga surmised, "the brain lesion frees the patients from their personal histories and prepares them for any set of beliefs" (p. 167). Likewise, the "difficulty of translating right-hemispherical processes into logical, verbal formulations of the left brain" causes some of the right brain images, e.g., religious notions, to be "perceived as numinous, awesome and mysterious, or uncanny, preternaturally strange" (Turner, 1983, p. 239).

A similar characterization is made by Stevens (1986) in which religious experience is viewed as "a nonintellectual perception of reality arising from a nonordinary state of consciousness." He notes that consciousness is often reached through activities of meditation or contemplation. Further, the contention is made that "our predominantly left-hemispheric culture is hostile to such states of mind because they are not materially productive" (p. 21).

Perhaps it is a misdirection to attempt to reduce mental (mind) processes to neurological brain states (see Searle, 1984). Ashbrook (1984) reminds that while the brain can be distinguished along hemispheric boundaries, the mind cannot:

Yet if the mind and brain cannot be separated and together cannot be understood, then how should one address the mind-body problem in psychological research? Again Ashbrook (1989b) suggests the need to synthesize our understanding of the mind-brain distinction: "The hyphen says the two words belong to one reality. 'Mind' identifies the human meaning of 'brain,' even as 'brain' designates the empirical referent of 'mind'" (p. 75). While it is assumed that the mind is instantiated in brain states, the neurological phenomena are not the focus of cognitive science. Thus, this work acknowledges the constraints of neurophysiology but is primarily concerned with the representations and processing of information within the mind.

Psychological Functions of Religious Knowledge

Various scholars have theorized regarding the role played by religious experience and knowledge in human activity. Freud argued that religion served to rid the individual of oedipal guilt and reduce the fears of helplessness by projecting God from one's unconscious. Jung viewed religion more sympathetically and essentially reduced all the unconscious to religious experience. Fromm (1950) provides somewhat of a synthesis between these two by arguing that religious experience is a basic part of man, belonging to his very nature, but allegiances to virtually anything (e.g., money, state, ideologies, could all be seen as religious). Durkheim contended that religion provided cohesiveness to society by supplying values and normative order. Along a similar line, K. Davis argued that while religion was "patently false; it persisted because it was socially valuable" (Wilson, 1982, p. 7).

One way in which religious thought has been viewed as valuable is in offering causal explanations for a more coherent world, i.e., religion has served an attribution role (Berger & Luckmann, 1966; Proudfoot & Shaver, 1975; Spilka & Schmidt, 1983; Kallstad, 1987; Weiner, 1986). Proudfoot and Shaver (1975) have contended that "one of the functions of religious doctrines and symbols is the attribution of power and responsibility for particular events to the actor or to natural or supernatural forces which are, in different degrees, beyond his control" (p. 321).

Of particular note regarding attribution is Kelly's (1955) personal construct psychology which argues " that we might better understand individuals if we accepted that each person develops a system of personal constructs of their world in order to understand and predict the events of their lives" (Preston, 1987, p. 253).

While Proudfoot and Shaver (1975) suggested that an understanding of the conditions under which attributions would be made would enhance our understanding of the doctrines and symbols themselves, Frank (1977) states that attribution takes place when "the cognitive and moral map supplied by a belief system orders experiences in terms of importance." By providing guides for the selection of inputs and "by representing an orderly, self-consistent universe, it enables the believers to predict and control physical events and to evaluate the behavior of others as well as their own from an ethical standpoint" (pp. 556-7). Thus, religious knowledge becomes useful in terms of its usage in goal attainment.

Bowker (1976) summarized this notion of attribution and applied it to religious thought:

Another role filled by religious experience, according to Jung, is its contribution to the development of the individual's self-identity (Moreno, 1970). Further, James3 argued that "no psychology can claim to have achieved a whole picture of personality unless it considers] religion and those personal phenomena which often play a role in it" (Sadler, 1970, p. 3).

As a counterview to the hopelessness experienced in life, religion has provided a hopeful outlook. As Frank (1977) states it, belief systems serve "to counteract what has been termed 'ontological anxiety,' the prospect of disappearing into nothingness, which all humans must face" (p. 557).

In summary, it can be noted that religion or religious thought serves four fundamental psychobiological functionsómythological or explanatory, sanctification of the moral code, ritual, and spiritual (Stevens, 1986).

A Cognitive Model

for Religious Knowing

The purpose of the discussion to this point has been to demonstrate how the difficulty faced by scholars in defining or characterizing these various phenomena has resulted in a diverse and, at times, inconsistent, literature. Having done so, attention should now be directed to the more significant task of this essay: positing a cognitive model for religious knowledge.

Just how religious beliefs should be conceptualized cognitively is a difficult question.4 Is religious knowledge simply the content with no different structure or process than any other form of knowledge? If so, then can there be said to be any form of metaphysical experience? Or can the content of a construct affect its structural representation and processing capabilities? How one answers these questions undoubtedly will ultimately affect the approach to articulate the structural representations and processes for utilizing religious knowledge. In fact, Ashbrook (1989a) has argued, "The nature of God, the nature of human nature, the nature of the universe, the nature of human destiny are matters which depend upon how we know and how we process what we know" (p. 349).

Though Bellah (1970) has argued against a cognitive, reductionist approach to religious study, Eister (1974) points out that "man's feelings, values, and hopes do arise into consciousness from unconscious mechanisms, and. . .the genetic and cultural as well as wider environmental sources of brain patterns are what shape them" (p. 31). In fact, it can be argued that virtually all of our activities can be explained in terms of cognitive operations.5

In whatever manner religious knowing is conceptualized, one overarching criterion should be the ability of the construct to incorporate and explain a broad range of definitional and functional categories. With this requirement, propositional or associative networks of memory will now be presented as such a framework.6

Associative Networks of Memory

In positing the concept of how knowledge is stored in memory, Anderson (1983a, 1983b, 1985) has argued for the propositional or associative network (ACT*) in which the meaning of information is preserved, but not necessarily the exact wording. Basically, this theory asserts that ideas are encoded or stored as individual "nodes" in a semantic network with "links" serving as the associations between the ideas. The strength of the link is based upon the number of learning opportunities, the frequency of activation or rehearsal (Anderson, 1983a) and/or some salience factor. Information is then retrieved by activating the appropriate memory node. The time required for this retrieval is a factor of both the strength of the connections between the ideas, increased by practice and recency (Pirolli & Anderson, 1985), and the distance from the initial node. As the activation spreads it takes relatively more time the further it must travel within the network (Anderson & Pirolli, 1984).

Ashbrook (1989a) also expressed an associative view of cognitive representation:

Viewing religious experience or knowledge from the cognitive perspective of associative networks of memory provides several fruitful explanations for the study of religious thought:

1. Such a formulation enables memory structure of religious knowledge to possess affective information by including emotion nodes linked to other features of the network (Bower, 1981; Bower & Cohen, 1982);

2. This perspective incorporates both procedural knowledge, as well as declarative knowledge without making Tulving's (1985) distinction (Anderson & Ross, 1980).7 In fact, if Gazzaniga is correct that religious knowledge is inevitable within the total cognitive process, even less emphasis needs to be placed upon the distinctive types of memory stores;

3. The associative network can serve as a production system in which knowledge might be manifested in behavioral parameters based upon the salience or valence of any given knowledge structure. Watts and Williams (1988) suggest that the significance of the knowledge for behavior might be found in how the knowledge was acquired, direct experience or assent to doctrine. Interestingly, Festinger, Riecken and Schacter (1964) found that people often hold to religious beliefs in the midst of the most adverse situations.

4. Without the various distinctions between memory, this proposed construction provides a system capable of metaphorical and analogical knowledge (Ashbrook, 1989b). Such a view would encompass Ian Ramsey's (1964) notion that analog and metaphor assist human thinking in pointing toward truth;

5. Associative networks of religious thinking also explains the propensity for highly "religious" people, i.e., those involved with religious activity, to practice greater attribution from a religious framework based upon stronger links due to the frequency of activationó likewise, such a formulation would allow for such an association to decay without such rehearsal;

6. Additionally, this conception allows for the development of religious knowing or experiences (Piaget, 1955) by adding nodes to the network as well as developing the capacity for better use of the representational structures. In other words, as children age, they can think better about religious concepts (cognitive processes) as well as know them better (content) (Anderson, 1985).

7. As amalgamated structure this network notion of religious thought with its variety of features (types of knowledge) might account for Kellenberger's (1985) concept of religious knowledge as a third perspective of knowing.

8. Most importantly, this formulation of religious knowing keeps the explanation within the framework of cognitive share's R. Steiner's "view that the issues raised by direct religious knowing apply solely to religion. Religious knowledge is not sui aeneris. The cognitive capacities needed for experimental religious knowing can be found in other fields of human cognition" (Watts & Williams, 1988, p. 58).

It should be noted, however, that this notion of associative networks of religious knowing has met with opposition. Ashbrook (1989a) drawing upon the work of Rumelhart and colleagues(1987), and Pribram (1986) has indirectly challenged the network construct of religious belief by stating

Pribram characterizes this phenomenon as the "holographic paradigm." A similar structure in cognitive science is the "schema" (Schank & Abelson, 1977). The phenomena of schematic patterning, however, can be addressed within the concept of associative networks. As nodes are repeatedly and frequently activated together, "chunking" can occur in which subsequent nodes are so closely associated they appear to be inseparable. Thus, when one is activated, several others are as well. When this activation of multiple nodes occurs virtually simultaneously, it appears that a schematic pattern has been achieved instead of multiple idea nodes. For example, it is feasible to imagine a schema for the character of God. If utilized often enough, concepts such as parent, creator, sustainer may become so linked with deity that they are activated in a rapid, complete fashion, but they could still be held in separate nodes of memory.

Conclusion

This article has not attempted to address the truth or falsity of any particular religious belief. Instead it has attempted to posit a possible cognitive formulation for how such beliefs are represented and processed within human cognition. As such it has shown that even if religious knowledge is a characteristically different type of knowledge, such as aesthetic understanding, it is still fruitful to explain these constructs in the terms of associative networks. The significance of the knowledge upon subsequent thought or behavior is based upon its salience or activation within the mind. The conception has viewed religion, religious thought, and religiosity, in general, as information-driven behavior instead of some of the more traditional trait-based approaches which have been demonstrated to be rather poor at explaining or predicting human behavior (Mischel & Peake, 1982).

This formulation now demands specific empirical research for support. By utilizing the traditional methods of cognitive science (time measures, memory, demand on cognitive processing, verbal reports or protocols, production errors) in assessing the nature of association and activation, much could be further learned regarding the cognitive processes of religious thought.

1Similarly Roberts (1989) distinguished parallels in religious images with "exchange theory [in which behavior is goal-oriented] and symbolic interactionism [in which behavior is consensual]" (p. 382). Likewise, Allen and Spilka (1967) have distinguished between "committed" and "consensual" religion.

2Ashbrook (1989a) notes, "A superficial view of what is happening in the brain sciences could be characterized as a move downward from psyche as mind to soma as body, from mind to brain, from spirit to matter" (p. 336).

3James also noted several possible admirable effects resulting from religious experiences: (1) a sense of peace, harmony, and fulfillment; (2) a new, keener awareness of one's world and one's self; (3) an insight into one's particular potentialities combined with an eager incentive to actualize them by making them a primary interest; (4) a rediscovery of spontaneity and a sense of individual freedom; (5) a deeper sense of individual continuity and personal integration; (6) a more affirmative attitude toward life and a sense of zest and joy; (7) a deeper feeling of tenderness and a higher regard for one's fellow men (Sadler, 1970, p. 26).

4This endeavor is difficult in one sense because it is a scientific one and, as such, is a Popperian attempt to approximate the truth from a rational procedure.

5Smith et al.(1987) note the wide variety of our daily activities which are governed by cognitive processes: reading words (sight and sound in recognizing patterns), recognizing faces (perceiving and identifying objects), telling sheep from goats (categorizing objects), reaching for a glass of beer (planning and controlling movements), tapping your head and rubbing your stomach (doing two things at once), doing mental arithmetic (holding information and operations for a short time), popping the question (planning and producing speech), listening to speech (perceiving, understanding, or ignoring a spoken sentence), reading a book (comprehending and remembering text), witnessing an accident (remembering and recalling events), arriving in a new city (acquiring and using spatial knowledge), diagnosing an illness (uncertainty and risk in making decisions), and investigating a murder (making inferences and solving problems.

6Associative networks have been utilized to explain a wide variety of cognitive processesó from basic memory to person perception and judgment (Hastie, 1988).

7Tulving argued for a tripartite system of memory comprised of procedural memory ("know how" for perceptual, motor, or cognitive skills), semantic memory (the "knowing that" implicit memory for general knowledge shared by a culture), and episodic memory (specific autobiographical memory regarding the occurrence of events).

References

Response from Leonard J. Shedletsky

Gauthreaux offers an associative network of memory explanation for religious thought. It is not clear, however, how such a memory system is unique to religious thought.

Homepages: Communication Resources (Aitken) | Communicating (Berko) | Intimate Communication | Intrapersonal | Public Speaker/Public Listener (Berko) | "Speech Communication Teacher" (NCA)