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      <title>The Frontal Cortex</title>
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         <title>Prozac</title>
          <description>&lt;p&gt;Sharon Begley has an excellent &lt;a href="http://www.newsweek.com/id/232781"&gt;Newsweek&lt;/a&gt; cover story on the rise and fall of anti-depressant medications, or how a class of drugs that were once hailed as medical miracles are now seen as barely better than placebos:&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;blockquote&gt;In just over half of the published and unpublished studies, Kirsch and colleagues reported in 2002, the drug alleviated depression no better than a placebo. "And the extra benefit of antidepressants was even less than we saw when we analyzed only published studies," Kirsch recalls. About 82 percent of the response to antidepressants--not the 75 percent he had calculated from examining only published studies--had also been achieved by a dummy pill.

&lt;p&gt;The extra effect of real drugs wasn't much to celebrate, either. It amounted to 1.8 points on the 54-point scale doctors use to gauge the severity of depression, through questions about mood, sleep habits, and the like. Sleeping better counts as six points. Being less fidgety during the assessment is worth two points. In other words, the clinical significance of the 1.8 extra points from real drugs was underwhelming. Now Kirsch was certain. "The belief that antidepressants can cure depression chemically is simply wrong," he told me in January on the eve of the publication of his book The Emperor's New Drugs: Exploding the Anti-depressant Myth.&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;The 2002 study ignited a furious debate, but more and more scientists were becoming convinced that Kirsch--who had won respect for research on the placebo response and who had published scores of scientific papers--was on to something. One team of researchers wondered if antidepressants were "a triumph of marketing over science." Even defenders of antidepressants agreed that the drugs have "relatively small" effects. "Many have long been unimpressed by the magnitude of the differences observed between treatments and controls," psychology researcher Steven Hollon of Vanderbilt University and colleagues wrote--"what some of our colleagues refer to as 'the dirty little secret.' " In Britain, the agency that assesses which treatments are effective enough for the government to pay for stopped recommending antidepressants as a first-line treatment, especially for mild or moderate depression.&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;I'm currently working on a longer article on a related subject, so I won't go into detail here, but I think it's worth pointing out that anti-depressants might still prove to be a very useful class of drugs, just not for depression. To understand why, it's important to realize that antidepressants don't work the way the way the big pharm companies tell you they work, at least on their &lt;a href="http://www.zoloft.com/how_zoloft_works.aspx"&gt;websites&lt;/a&gt;. &lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;Their neat little story goes like this: antidepressants increase the brain's supply of serotonin, thus correcting our chemical imbalance. This implies that sadness is simply a lack of chemical happiness. The little blue pills cheer us up because they give the brain what it has been missing.&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;There's only one problem with this theory of depression: it's almost certainly wrong, or at the very least woefully incomplete. Experiments have since shown that lowering people's serotonin levels does not make them depressed, nor does it worsen their symptoms if they are already depressed. And then there's the "Prozac lag": although antidepressants increase the amount of serotonin in the brain within hours, their beneficial effects are not usually felt for weeks.&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;But just because antidepressants don't work via some silly and obsolete chemical model of depression doesn't mean the drugs don't trigger important changes in the brain. In recent years, scientists have found that the little blue pills modulate the neural pathways of plasticity, up-regulating trophic factors and neurogenesis. Because they make our mind more malleable - and help counter the the toxic effects of stress - the drugs have potential implications far beyond the treatment of depression. &lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;Consider this 2008 &lt;a href="http://www.sciencemag.org/cgi/content/abstract/sci;320/5874/385"&gt;study&lt;/a&gt; by Italian researchers, published in the journal Science. The scientists were interested in seeing if fluoxetine, the active ingredient of Prozac, could increase the potential of brain cells in the adult rat. They studied animals with severe cases of "lazy eye," a condition characterized by poor vision in one eye due to underdevelopment of the visual cortex. The scientists showed that fluoxetine gave brain cells the ability to take on new roles and form new connections, which erased the symptoms of the disorder.&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;Jose Vettencourt, a lead author on this paper, told me that "The drug appears to make brain cells quite young". The scientists are currently repeating the experiment with humans, raising the possibility that fluoxetine might one day be used to treat lazy eye and related conditions.&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;And then there's this brand new &lt;a href="http://www.latimes.com/news/nationworld/nation/la-sci-antidepressants2-2010feb02,0,1093577.story"&gt;paper&lt;/a&gt;:&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;blockquote&gt;Widely used antidepressants may help patients recover cognitive functions, such as memory skills, that are damaged following a stroke, according to research released Monday.

&lt;p&gt;Escitalopram, a type of selective serotonin reuptake inhibitor, or SSRI, was linked to improved cognitive functioning in a group of stroke patients who did not have symptoms of depression, scientists found.&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;Participants were treated within three months of the stroke in one of three ways: a low dose -- 5 to 10 milligrams -- of escitalopram, a placebo pill or problem-solving therapy but no medication. (The standard dose of escitalopram, also known by the brand name Lexapro, for treating depression is 20 milligrams.)&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;After one year, the group on escitalopram had higher scores on tests assessing thinking, learning and memory functions as well as ones testing verbal and visual memory. The group treated with medication also had greater improvements in activities related to daily living.&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;The point is that we might still be taking Prozac, et. al. years from now, just not for depression. The pills &lt;em&gt;do&lt;/em&gt; something - they just aren't great at cheering us up.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;a href="http://scienceblogs.com/cortex/2010/02/prozac.php#commentsArea"&gt;Read the comments on this post...&lt;/a&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/scienceblogs/wDAM/~4/1rkdNA6poss" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</description>
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         <pubDate>Wed, 03 Feb 2010 15:54:54 -0500</pubDate>
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         <title>The Blue Brain</title>
          <description>&lt;p&gt;Via Vaughan at &lt;a href="http://mindhacks.com/"&gt;MindHacks&lt;/a&gt;, comes this link to a preview of a documentary-in-progress on The Blue Brain, that epic &lt;a href="http://thebeautifulbrain.com/2010/02/bluebrain-film-preview/"&gt;attempt&lt;/a&gt; to create a conscious supercomputer. &lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;I was fortunate enough to profile the &lt;a href="http://seedmagazine.com/content/article/out_of_the_blue/"&gt;Blue Brain&lt;/a&gt; in 2008:&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;blockquote&gt;In the basement of a university in Lausanne, Switzerland sit four black boxes, each about the size of a refrigerator, and filled with 2,000 IBM microchips stacked in repeating rows. Together they form the processing core of a machine that can handle 22.8 trillion operations per second. It contains no moving parts and is eerily silent. When the computer is turned on, the only thing you can hear is the continuous sigh of the massive air conditioner. This is Blue Brain.

&lt;p&gt;The name of the supercomputer is literal: Each of its microchips has been programmed to act just like a real neuron in a real brain. The behavior of the computer replicates, with shocking precision, the cellular events unfolding inside a mind. "This is the first model of the brain that has been built from the bottom-up," says Henry Markram, a neuroscientist at Ecole Polytechnique Fédérale de Lausanne (EPFL) and the director of the Blue Brain project. "There are lots of models out there, but this is the only one that is totally biologically accurate. We began with the most basic facts about the brain and just worked from there."&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;a href="http://scienceblogs.com/cortex/2010/02/the_blue_brain_1.php#commentsArea"&gt;Read the comments on this post...&lt;/a&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/scienceblogs/wDAM/~4/NitAxXwiaLA" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</description>
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         <pubDate>Wed, 03 Feb 2010 11:23:47 -0500</pubDate>
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         <title>Sex Ed</title>
          <description>&lt;p&gt;Ross Douthat &lt;a href="http://www.nytimes.com/2010/02/01/opinion/01douthat.html"&gt;reflects&lt;/a&gt; on the recent news that teenage birthrates inched upward during the Bush era, after more than a decade of decline:&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;blockquote&gt;The new numbers, declared the president of Planned Parenthood, make it "crystal clear that abstinence-only sex education for teenagers does not work."

&lt;p&gt;In reality, the numbers show no such thing. Abstinence financing increased under Bush, but the federal government has been funneling money to pro-chastity initiatives since early in Bill Clinton's presidency. If you blame abstinence programs for a year's worth of bad news, you'd also have to give them credit for more than a decade's worth of progress.&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;More likely, neither blame nor credit is appropriate. The evidence suggests that many abstinence-only programs have little impact on teenage sexual behavior, just as their critics long insisted. But most sex education programs of any kind have an ambiguous effect, at best, on whether and how teens have sex. The abstinence-based courses that social conservatives champion produce unimpressive results -- but so do the contraceptive-oriented programs that liberals tend to favor.&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;I think Douthat overstates the equivalence: there's much more evidence that abstinence-based sex education is a failure (such as &lt;a href="http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/content/article/2007/04/13/AR2007041301003.html"&gt;this&lt;/a&gt; 2007 Congressional study) than there is for contraceptive sex ed, which has been linked to mild reductions in teen pregnancy. But I think his larger point is accurate: it's really difficult to change the sexual habits of adolescents.  &lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;That's because we've been trying to change behavior with facts and information. We've assumed that the way to get kids to wear condoms is give them statistics about sexually transmitted disease, or that the way to get students to abstain from sex is to lecture them on morality, or the difficulty of caring for a child while in high school. The problem with such facts is that they don't help teens deal with their moment of sexual decision, which most likely occurs when they're half naked and deranged with desire. In other words, we've assumed that sexual choices are rational choices, influenced by classroom exhortations and dry information. But that's wrong. &lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;Look, for example, at this R-rated experiment, by the behavioral economist Dan Ariely and neuroeconomist George Loewenstein. They began by asking twenty-five male undergraduates at UC-Berkeley a series of provocative sexual questions. The first set of questions concerned their sexual preferences. Could they imagine having sex with a 60 year old woman? What about getting sexually excited by contact with an animal? Did they like getting tied up during sex? The next set of questions dealt with sexual morality. Would the male students slip a woman a drug to increase the chance that she would have sex with them? Would they keep trying to have sex after their date said "no"? The final set of questions was about safe sex. Would the men insist on using a condom? Is it safe to have unprotected sex if you "pull out" before ejaculation?&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;Each male student answered these naughty hypotheticals in two different states of mind. In the first condition, the subjects were told to answer the questions without being aroused. They were supposed to contemplate sex in an un-sexual state of mind. In the second condition, the subjects were shown pornography while answering the questions. (They were alone in their dorm room for this part of the experiment.) When asked in advance, the men didn't think that being aroused would significantly alter their answers. They assumed that their sexual preferences were relatively immune to such temporary emotional biases.&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;The men were completely wrong. Their desire to engage in peculiar sexual acts - like being tied up, or getting spanked while having sex - nearly doubled when they were aroused. Their morality was even more malleable: they were three times more likely to commit a sex crime⎯such as using a date-rape drug⎯when staring at pornographic images. And, of course, being aroused also made them much less likely to use condoms. Although the undergraduates could all recite the benefits of sexual protection, this rational knowledge was irrelevant. The charge of arousal was simply too powerful: they could no longer resist doing the wrong thing, even though they knew it was wrong. As Ariely and Loewenstein drolly concluded: "Efforts at self-control that involve raw willpower are likely to be ineffective in the face of the dramatic cognitive and motivational changes caused by arousal."&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;The point is that we've been arming our kids with the wrong mental tools. Instead of giving them statistics, we need to provide them with the cognitive tools to deal with temptation. Instead of urging them to abstain, we need to show them &lt;em&gt;how&lt;/em&gt; to abstain. There is no secret recipe for overcoming our "hottest" urges, like sexual desire. But you could do worse than giving kids a short lesson in metacognition. I think &lt;a href="http://www.newyorker.com/reporting/2009/05/18/090518fa_fact_lehrer?currentPage=all"&gt;Walter Mischel's&lt;/a&gt; work with four-year olds and marshmallows is relevant here:&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;blockquote&gt;At the time, psychologists assumed that children's ability to wait [to delay gratification for a second marshmallow] depended on how badly they wanted the marshmallow. But it soon became obvious that every child craved the extra treat. What, then, determined self-control? Mischel's conclusion, based on hundreds of hours of observation, was that the crucial skill was the "strategic allocation of attention." Instead of getting obsessed with the marshmallow--the "hot stimulus"--the patient children distracted themselves by covering their eyes, pretending to play hide-and-seek underneath the desk, or singing songs from "Sesame Street." Their desire wasn't defeated--it was merely forgotten. "If you're thinking about the marshmallow and how delicious it is, then you're going to eat it," Mischel says. "The key is to avoid thinking about it in the first place."

&lt;p&gt;In adults, this skill is often referred to as metacognition, or thinking about thinking, and it's what allows people to outsmart their shortcomings. (When Odysseus had himself tied to the ship's mast, he was using some of the skills of metacognition: knowing he wouldn't be able to resist the Sirens' song, he made it impossible to give in.) Mischel's large data set from various studies allowed him to see that children with a more accurate understanding of the workings of self-control were better able to delay gratification. "What's interesting about four-year-olds is that they're just figuring out the rules of thinking," Mischel says. "The kids who couldn't delay would often have the rules backwards. They would think that the best way to resist the marshmallow is to stare right at it, to keep a close eye on the goal. But that's a terrible idea. If you do that, you're going to ring the bell before I leave the room."&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;a href="http://scienceblogs.com/cortex/2010/02/sex_ed.php#commentsArea"&gt;Read the comments on this post...&lt;/a&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/scienceblogs/wDAM/~4/acwTsUBgH6g" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</description>
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         <pubDate>Tue, 02 Feb 2010 10:43:57 -0500</pubDate>
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         <title>Musical Predictions, Redux</title>
          <description>&lt;p&gt;In response to my recent &lt;a href="http://scienceblogs.com/cortex/2010/01/musical_predictions.php"&gt;post&lt;/a&gt; on the neuroscience of musical predictions, Alex Rehding, the Fanny Peabody Professor of Music at Harvard, wrote in to offer a musical theorist perspective. He makes several excellent points, and complicates the neuroscience in useful ways, so I thought I'd reproduce the relevant parts of his email below:&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;blockquote&gt;The point you raise in your latest posting -- about expectation and prediction -- is one that has fascinated music theorists pretty much for the last 200 years. I realize that yours is a science blog, and I'll try my best to resist the urge to add too many traditional music-theoretical talking points.

&lt;p&gt;There is one interesting problem with this model, though, that has generated some interesting discussion in the music-theoretical world over the last twenty or so years. If we derive pleasure from anticipating potential connections - and especially being surprised by thwarted expectations - then it becomes difficult to explain why we would want to listen to a piece more than once: the novelty factor wears off, the uncertainty factor becomes less pronounced. In principle, the piece should get less interesting each time we hear it. Experience, however, shows that this is not the case: we greatly enjoy re-hearing familiar pieces. The whole recording industry makes a lot of money on the basis of this phenomenon.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;Personally, I'd frame the discussion slightly differently. (And please take my views with a huge grain of salt. I'm a lay listener, not an expert.) I think our inexhaustible need for &lt;em&gt;new&lt;/em&gt; music - we want the latest Rihanna radio hit - demonstrates that, once we memorize a piece of music, it grows a little stale. The essential surprise is drained out of the notes, so that there are no subtle patterns left to learn. And that's when our attention begins to wander, and we buy the current pop phenom on iTunes. While there are certain songs I will be listening to forever - most of Blonde on Blonde, late 70s Bruce, Astral Weeks, Otis R., a few Pavement songs, Wilco, a little Bright Eyes, etc. - I'm always struck by the short half-life of most of my music. The stimulus goes from intoxicating and enthralling to tired and tedious in a few short listens. And so we keep on consuming, searching for another shot of acoustic excitement. I think the recording industry makes a lot of money on &lt;em&gt;this&lt;/em&gt; phenomenon.&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;We can now see the neural anatomy that makes this cultural learning possible. The auditory cortex, like all our sensory areas, is deeply plastic. Neuroscience, stealing vocabulary from music, has named these malleable cells "&lt;a href="http://www.nature.com/nrn/journal/v4/n10/abs/nrn1222.html"&gt;the corticofugal network&lt;/a&gt;," after the fugal form Bach made famous. These contrapuntal neurons feed back onto the very substrate of our hearing, altering the specific frequencies, amplitudes and timing patterns that our sensory cells actually respond to. The brain, in other words, tunes its own sense of sound, just like violinists tune the strings of their instrument. One of the central functions of the corticofugal network is what neuroscience calls "&lt;a href="http://www.pnas.org/content/97/14/8081.abstract"&gt;egocentric&lt;/a&gt;" selection. When a pattern of noises is heard repeatedly, the brain memorizes that pattern. Feedback from higher-up brain regions reorganizes the auditory cortex, which makes it easier for us to hear that same pattern in the future. So when we get sick of the latest top 40 jingle playing on the radio, these are the cells to blame. Their infinite capacity to learn means that we quickly get bored. &lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;This, of course, raises the larger question of why certain pieces of music don't go stale. Why are we still listening to Bach's fugues, or Beethoven's symphonies, or Kind of Blue? What is it about these particular soundwaves that allows them to evade the corticofugal boredom? I'd suggest that their place in the canon is inseparable from their ambiguity - their ability to encourage a multiplicity of interpretations - so that new listens reveal new elements to listen for. In other words, we are continually surprised by their sounds, by the capacity of the music to subvert our expectations. Frank Kermode famously argued that literature worked the same way: What makes a novel or poem immortal is its complex indeterminacy, the way every reader discovers in the same words a different story. The same book manages to inspire two completely different conclusions. But there is no right interpretation. If there were - if there was only one way to read Hamlet - then the words would be far less interesting. The art that endures is the art that never loses its capacity to surprise.&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;I think Professor Rehding makes another essential point in his discussion of rhythm:&lt;br /&gt;
  &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;blockquote&gt;The other point that I think is quite important in this respect -- and that's one that most music theory traditionally ignores -- is the importance of rhythm and pulse. We don't simply yearn for the eventual return of the tonic, but we want it to fall in one particular place (or a small range of places) within the temporal order of the piece of music. Composers generate a lot of tension by carefully manipulating the temporal features of their music: a musical climax is not merely about writing loud music but also about the careful gradual build-up and the decline afterwards.&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;This idea is an even more urgent given current musical trends. Over the last few decades, popular music has been transformed by its rhythms, so that some rap songs consist of nothing but words propelled by a pulse. Why is this so exciting, at least for the auditory cortex of people under 25? Does rhythm also take advantage of our musical prediction machinery? Or is it a kind of acoustic scaffolding, making it easier for us to follow the subtle patterns in the rest of the song?&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;I won't even venture a bad guess to those questions. But I want to thank Professor Rehding for his feedback and comments.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;a href="http://scienceblogs.com/cortex/2010/02/musical_predictions_redux.php#commentsArea"&gt;Read the comments on this post...&lt;/a&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/scienceblogs/wDAM/~4/fmIzKqA1ONI" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</description>
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         <pubDate>Mon, 01 Feb 2010 10:04:52 -0500</pubDate>
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         <title>Self-Control and Peer Groups</title>
          <description>&lt;p&gt;For the most part, self-control is seen as an individual trait, a measure of personal discipline. If you lack self-control, then it's your own fault, a character flaw built into the brain.&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;However, according to a new &lt;a href="http://psp.sagepub.com/cgi/content/abstract/0146167209356302v1"&gt;study&lt;/a&gt; by Michelle vanDellen, a psychologist at the University of Georgia, self-control contains a large social component; the ability to resist temptation is contagious. The paper consists of five clever studies, each of which demonstrates the influence of our peer group on our self-control decisions. For instance, in one study 71 undergraduates watched a stranger exert self-control by choosing a carrot instead of a cookie, while others watched people eat the cookie instead of the carrot. That's all that happened: the volunteers had no other interaction with the eaters. Nevertheless, the performance of the subjects was significantly altered on a subsequent test of self-control. People who watched the carrot-eaters had more discipline than those who watched the cookie-eaters.&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;What accounts for this contagion of discipline? One possibility, of course, is that watching someone eat a cookie makes us think about the deliciousness of cookies. In other words, we're primed to crave a reward, since we just saw a reward get consumed. vanDellen, however, argues that the spread of self-control is mostly driven by the "accessibility" of thoughts &lt;em&gt;about&lt;/em&gt; self-control. When we see someone resist the cookie, we're cognitively inspired, and temporarily aware that resistance is possible. We don't have to surrender to impulse.&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;Consider the last experiment described in the paper. In this study of 117 subjects, those who were randomly assigned to write about friends with good self-control were faster than a control group at identifying words related to self-control, such as "achieve," "discipline" and "effort". This suggests that thinking about self-control - or watching it happen - makes us more attuned to its benefits. We think about our waistline and calories, and not just chocolate-chips.&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;The contagiousness of self-control has important consequences. For one thing, it helps explain why Dominos, Taco Bell and McDonald's spend so much money on television ads. Their commercials are testimonials for indulgence - they show people happily consuming thousands of calories - and so that makes us less likely to resist. Why munch on carrots when a large pepperoni pizza is only a phone call away?&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;This study also begins to reveal the ways in which culture can impact character. Kids who grow up surrounded by rituals of discipline - they watch people counter their impulses all the time - have a very different sense of their own potential. They don't have to eat the cookie because they've watched their parents and peers eat the carrot. This is an implicit kind of knowledge - it's not something you can measure on a multiple-choice test - and yet it has profound implications for our success in the real world.&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;Last year, I wrote about this idea in the &lt;a href="http://www.newyorker.com/reporting/2009/05/18/090518fa_fact_lehrer?currentPage=all"&gt;New Yorker&lt;/a&gt;:&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;blockquote&gt;Mischel is also preparing a large-scale study involving hundreds of schoolchildren in Philadelphia, Seattle, and New York City to see if self-control skills can be taught. Although he previously showed that children did much better on the marshmallow task after being taught a few simple "mental transformations," such as pretending the marshmallow was a cloud, it remains unclear if these new skills persist over the long term. In other words, do the tricks work only during the experiment or do the children learn to apply them at home, when deciding between homework and television?

&lt;p&gt;Angela Lee Duckworth, an assistant professor of psychology at the University of Pennsylvania, is leading the program. She first grew interested in the subject after working as a high-school math teacher. "For the most part, it was an incredibly frustrating experience," she says. "I gradually became convinced that trying to teach a teen-ager algebra when they don't have self-control is a pretty futile exercise." And so, at the age of thirty-two, Duckworth decided to become a psychologist. One of her main research projects looked at the relationship between self-control and grade-point average. She found that the ability to delay gratification--eighth graders were given a choice between a dollar right away or two dollars the following week--was a far better predictor of academic performance than I.Q. She said that her study shows that "intelligence is really important, but it's still not as important as self-control."&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;For the past few months, the researchers have been conducting pilot studies in the classroom as they try to figure out the most effective way to introduce complex psychological concepts to young children. Because the study will focus on students between the ages of four and eight,&lt;strong&gt; the classroom lessons will rely heavily on peer modelling&lt;/strong&gt;, such as showing kindergartners a video of a child successfully distracting herself during the marshmallow task.&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;The point is that self-improvement isn't impossible, and that changing the habits of one kid just might help change a classroom. Nobody is an island. &lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/p&gt; &lt;a href="http://scienceblogs.com/cortex/2010/01/self-control_and_peer_groups.php#commentsArea"&gt;Read the comments on this post...&lt;/a&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/scienceblogs/wDAM/~4/IzeJkjOiRrI" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</description>
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         <pubDate>Wed, 27 Jan 2010 13:14:25 -0500</pubDate>
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         <title>Cable News</title>
          <description>&lt;p&gt;Cable news is not good for the soul. People make fun of Jersey Shore, but at least those randy kids don't reinforce our deep-seated political biases. A new &lt;a href="http://mwc.sagepub.com/cgi/content/abstract/2/3/263"&gt;paper&lt;/a&gt; by Shawn Powers of USC and Mohammed el-Nawawy of Queens University of Charlotte looked at the effect of international cable news on the ideology of its viewers. Not surprisingly, they found that people were only interested in "news" that didn't contradict what they already believed: &lt;/p&gt;

&lt;blockquote&gt;Powers and el-Nawawy show that global media consumers tuned in to international news media that they thought would further substantiate their opinions about U.S. policies and culture, and provide them with information on the international issues that they deemed most important. The study found a strong relationship between the participants' attitudes toward U.S. policy and culture and their choice of broadcaster. Those who were dependent on BBC World and especially CNNI were overall more supportive of U.S. foreign policy.&lt;/blockquote&gt;

&lt;p&gt;This shouldn't be too surprising. As Ken Auletta recently reported in the &lt;em&gt;New Yorker&lt;/em&gt;, cable news has grown increasingly partisan in recent years, seeking out an ever more balkanized audience. He cites a study of 35,000 viewers conducted by TiVo: for each Democrat who watches Fox News there are eighteen Republicans, and for every Republican who watches MSNBC there are six Democrats. It turns out that everybody wants their own set of facts.&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;This is an old phenomenon that's been exaggerated by new media trends. Partisan voters are convinced that they're rational⎯only the other side is irrational⎯but we're actually &lt;em&gt;rationalizers&lt;/em&gt;. The Princeton political scientists Christopher Achen and Larry Bartels analyzed survey data from the 1990's to prove this point. During the first term of Bill Clinton's presidency, the budget deficit declined by more than 90 percent. However, when Republican voters were asked in 1996 what happened to the deficit under Clinton, more than 55 percent said that it had increased. What's interesting about this data is that so-called "high-information" voters⎯these are the Republicans who read the newspaper, watch cable news and can identify their representatives in Congress⎯weren't better informed than "low-information" voters. According to Bartels, the reason knowing more about politics doesn't erase partisan bias is that voters tend to only assimilate those facts that confirm what they already believe. If a piece of information doesn't follow Republican talking points⎯and Clinton's deficit reduction didn't fit the "tax and spend liberal" stereotype⎯then the information is conveniently ignored. "Voters think that they're thinking," Achen and Bartels &lt;a href="http://users.polisci.wisc.edu/apw/archives/achen_bartels_thinking.pdf"&gt;write&lt;/a&gt;, "but what they're really doing is inventing facts or ignoring facts so that they can rationalize decisions they've already made."  &lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;The bleak lesson is that we turn the spotlight of attention into an information-filter, a way to block-out disagreeable points of view.  Consider this experiment, which was done in the late 1960's, by the cognitive psychologists Timothy Brock and Joe Balloun. I describe the study in my &lt;a href="http://www.amazon.com/How-We-Decide-Jonah-Lehrer/dp/0547247990/ref=tmm_pap_title_0"&gt;book&lt;/a&gt;:&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;blockquote&gt;Brock and Balloun played a group of people a tape-recorded message attacking Christianity. Half of the subjects were regular churchgoers while the other half were committed atheists. To make the experiment more interesting, Brock and Balloun added an annoying amount of static⎯a crackle of white noise⎯to the recording. However, they allowed listeners to reduce the static by pressing a button, so that the message suddenly became easier to understand. Their results were utterly predicable and rather depressing: the non-believers always tried to remove the static, while the religious subjects actually preferred the message that was harder to hear. Later experiments by Brock and Balloun demonstrated a similar effect with smokers listening to a speech on the link between smoking and cancer. We silence the cognitive dissonance through self-imposed ignorance. &lt;/blockquote&gt; 

&lt;p&gt;Cable news takes advantage of this cognitive weakness. Interestingly, however, this latest study found that not every cable news channel reinforced the beliefs of its audience. The big exception? Al-Jazeera English, which reduced the dogmatism of viewers:&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;blockquote&gt;The longer participants had been watching AJE, the less dogmatic they were in their thinking...The reduced dogmatism applies only to the cognitive levels of thinking, or the way in which people process new information. People who are less dogmatic in their thought are more open to information that contradicts their worldviews, whereas people who think very dogmatically are more likely to ignore or minimize information that does not support their own beliefs. These levels of dogmatism are strongly related to political and cultural tolerance, and how people behave in confrontational situations. &lt;/blockquote&gt;

&lt;p&gt;Thanks to &lt;a href="http://bakadesuyo.com/"&gt;Eric Barker&lt;/a&gt; for the pointer.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;a href="http://scienceblogs.com/cortex/2010/01/cable_news.php#commentsArea"&gt;Read the comments on this post...&lt;/a&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/scienceblogs/wDAM/~4/S3K-idVHgS0" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</description>
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         <pubDate>Tue, 26 Jan 2010 11:49:32 -0500</pubDate>
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         <title>Power</title>
          <description>&lt;p&gt;The Economist &lt;a href="http://www.economist.com/sciencetechnology/displayStory.cfm?story_id=15328544"&gt;reviews&lt;/a&gt; an interesting new study that investigates the immorality of power:&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;blockquote&gt;In their first study, Dr Lammers and Dr Galinsky asked 61 university students to write about a moment in their past when they were in a position of high or low power. Previous research has established that this is an effective way to "prime" people into feeling as if they are currently in such a position. Each group (high power and low power) was then split into two further groups. Half were asked to rate, on a nine-point morality scale (with one being highly immoral and nine being highly moral), how objectionable it would be for other people to over-report travel expenses at work. The other half were asked to participate in a game of dice.

&lt;p&gt;The dice players were told to roll two ten-sided dice (one for "tens" and one for "units") in the privacy of an isolated cubicle, and report the results to a lab assistant. The number they rolled, which would be a value between one and 100 (two zeros), would determine the number of tickets that they would be given in a small lottery that was run at the end of the study.&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;In the case of the travel expenses--when the question hung on the behaviour of others--participants in the high-power group reckoned, on average, that over-reporting rated as a 5.8 on the nine-point scale. Low-power participants rated it 7.2. The powerful, in other words, claimed to favour the moral course. In the dice game, however, high-power participants reported, on average, that they had rolled 70 while low-power individuals reported an average 59. Though the low-power people were probably cheating a bit (the expected average score would be 50), the high-power volunteers were undoubtedly cheating--perhaps taking the term "high roller" rather too literally. &lt;/blockquote&gt; &lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;The scientists argue that power is corrupting because it leads to moral hypocrisy. Although we almost always know what the right thing to do is - cheating at dice is a sin - power makes it easier to justify the wrongdoing, as we rationalize away our moral mistake. For instance, when Lammers and Galinsky asked the subjects (in both low and high-power conditions) how they would judge an individual who drove too fast when late for an appointment, or whether it was acceptable to cheat on the income tax, people with power consistently said it was worse when others committed those crimes than when they did. In other words, the powerful people believe they had a good reason for speeding - they're &lt;em&gt;important&lt;/em&gt; people, with important things to do - but everyone else should follow the posted signs. We become the exception to the rule, which is the law.&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;The real question, of course, is what causes this blatant hypocrisy. One possibility is that power makes us less sensitive to the needs and feelings of others - it silences our empathy - and so we only think about our own motivations and needs. Adam Smith, the 18th century philosopher, was the first modern thinker to emphasize the importance of empathy in shaping morality. "As we have no immediate experience of what other men feel," Smith wrote, "we can form no idea of the manner in which they are affected, but by conceiving what we ourselves should feel in the like situation."  This mirroring process leads to an instinctive sympathy for our fellow man⎯Smith called it "fellow-feeling"⎯which formed the basis for our moral decisions.&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;Smith was right. Just look at the ultimatum game. In this simple experimental task, an experimenter pairs two people together, and hands one of them $10. This person (the proposer) gets to decide how the ten dollars is divided. The second person (the responder) can either accept the offer, allowing both players to pocket their respective shares, or reject the offer, in which case both players walk away empty-handed.&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;When economists first started playing this game in the early 1980's, they assumed that this elementary exchange would always generate the same outcome. The proposer would offer the responder approximately $1⎯a minimal amount⎯and the responder would accept it. After all, $1 is better than nothing, and a rejection leaves both players worse off. Such an outcome would be a clear demonstration of our innate selfishness and rationality. &lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;However, the researchers soon realized that their predictions were all wrong.  Instead of swallowing their pride and pocketing a small profit, responders typically rejected any offer they perceived as unfair. Furthermore, proposers anticipated this angry rejection and typically tendered an offer around $4.&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;Why are most people so generous? The answer returns us to the "fellow-feeling" described by Smith: proposers make fair offers in the ultimatum game is because they are able to imagine how the responder will &lt;em&gt;feel&lt;/em&gt; if they make an unfair offer.  (When people play the game with computers, they are never generous.) They know that a lowball proposal will make the other person angry, which will lead them to reject the offer, which will leave everybody with nothing. So the proposers suppress their greed, and equitably split the ten dollars. (When people are given oxytocin, a hormone released during childbirth and during moments of social bonding, they make offers that are nearly 80 percent more equitable than normal.) This ability to sympathize with the feelings of others leads to fairness.&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;Unfortunately, states of power seem to induce a temporary state of mindblindness, so that our sympathetic instincts are repressed. A simple variation on the ultimatum game known as the dictator game makes this clear. Unlike the ultimatum game, in which the responder can decide whether or not to accept the monetary offer, in the dictator game, the proposer simply dictates how much the responder receives. (In other words, they have absolute power.) What's surprising is that these petit tyrants are still rather generous, and give away about one-third of the total amount of money. Even when people have power, they remain mostly constrained by their sympathetic instincts. &lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;However, it only takes one minor alteration for this benevolence to disappear. When the dictator cannot see the responder⎯the two players are located in separate rooms⎯the dictator lapses into unfettered greed. Instead of giving away a significant share of the profits, the despots start offering mere pennies, and pocketing the rest.  Once we become socially isolated, we stop simulating the feelings of other people.* As a result, our inner Machiavelli takes over, and our sense of sympathy is squashed by selfishness. The UC Berkeley psychologist &lt;a href="http://greatergood.berkeley.edu/greatergood/2007winter/keltner.html"&gt;Dacher Keltner&lt;/a&gt; has found that, in many social situations, people with power act just like patients with severe brain damage. "The experience of power might be thought of as having someone open up your skull and take out that part of your brain so critical to empathy and socially-appropriate behavior," he writes. "You become very impulsive and insensitive, which is a bad combination."&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;Of course, we live in an age when our most powerful people - they tend to also have lots of money - are also the most isolated. They live in gated communities with private drivers. They eat at different restaurants and stay at different resorts. They wear different clothes and skip the security lines at airports, before sitting at the front of the plane. We shouldn't be surprised that they're also assholes.&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;*I think this helps explain the public preference for politicians with ordinary preferences, or why Scott Brown kept on talking about his truck. And it also justifies Obama insistence on not becoming informationally &lt;a href="http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/content/article/2010/01/24/AR2010012403014_pf.html"&gt;isolated&lt;/a&gt;, whether that's by reading ten letters from constituents every day or following a variety of blogs.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;a href="http://scienceblogs.com/cortex/2010/01/power.php#commentsArea"&gt;Read the comments on this post...&lt;/a&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/scienceblogs/wDAM/~4/Twkb_g88zRk" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</description>
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         <pubDate>Mon, 25 Jan 2010 12:48:19 -0500</pubDate>
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         <title>Musical Predictions</title>
          <description>&lt;p&gt;There's an interesting new &lt;a href="http://www.sciencedirect.com/science?_ob=ArticleURL&amp;_udi=B6WNP-4XX23NY-1&amp;_user=10&amp;_rdoc=1&amp;_fmt=&amp;_orig=search&amp;_sort=d&amp;_docanchor=&amp;view=c&amp;_acct=C000050221&amp;_version=1&amp;_urlVersion=0&amp;_userid=10&amp;md5=05ba3787e20be68d2dd400e80e64d907"&gt;paper&lt;/a&gt; on how the brain makes sense of music by constructing detailed models in real time. The act of listening, it turns out, is really an act of neural prediction. Here are the scientists, from the University of London:&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;blockquote&gt;The ability to anticipate forthcoming events has clear evolutionary advantages, and predictive successes or failures often entail significant psychological and physiological consequences. In music perception, the confirmation and violation of expectations are critical to the communication of emotion and aesthetic effects of a composition. &lt;/blockquote&gt;

&lt;p&gt;The paper consists of a computational model and and an experiment. The model essentially demonstrated that statistical predictions based on our personal listening experience - because I listen to Bruce Springsteen, I'm able to predict the melodies of John Mellencamp - was much better at simulating the mind than a rule-based model, in which our expectations are fixed and inflexible.&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;The experiment was more compelling. The scientists measured the brain waves of a twenty subjects while they listened to various hymns. It turned out that unexpected notes - pitches that violated the previous melodic pattern - triggered an interesting sequence of neural events and a spike in brain activity: &lt;/p&gt;

&lt;blockquote&gt;Our electrophysiological results showed that low-probability notes, as compared to high-probability notes, elicited a larger (i) negative ERP component at a late time period (400-450 ms), (ii) beta band (14-30 Hz) oscillation over the parietal lobe, and (iii) long-range phase synchronization between multiple brain regions.  &lt;/blockquote&gt;

&lt;p&gt;There are two interesting takeaways from this experiment. The first is that music hijacks some very fundamental neural mechanisms. The brain is designed to learn by association: if this, then that. Music works by subtly toying with our expected associations, enticing us to make predictions about what note will come next, and then confronting us with our prediction errors. In other words, every melody manipulates the same essential mechanisms we use to make sense of reality. &lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;The second takeaway is that music requires surprise, the dissonance of "low-probability notes". While most people think about music in terms of aesthetic beauty - we like pretty consonant pitches arranged in pretty patterns - that's exactly backwards. The point of the prettiness is to set up the surprise, to frame the deviance. (That's why the unexpected pitches triggered the most brain activity, synchronizing the activity of brain regions involved in motor movement and emotion.) I wrote about this concept in &lt;a href="http://www.amazon.com/Proust-Was-Neuroscientist-Jonah-Lehrer/dp/0618620109"&gt;Proust Was A Neuroscientist&lt;/a&gt;:&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;blockquote&gt;Before a pattern can be desired by the brain, it must play hard to get. Music only excites us when it makes our auditory cortex struggle to uncover its order. If the music is too obvious, if its patterns are always present, it is annoyingly boring. This is why composers introduce the tonic note in the beginning of the song and then studiously avoid it until the end. The longer we are denied the pattern we expect, the greater the emotional release when the pattern returns, safe and sound.  Our auditory cortex rejoices. It has found the order it has been looking for. 

&lt;p&gt;To demonstrate this psychological principle, the musicologist Leonard Meyer, in his classic book Emotion and Meaning in Music (1956), analyzed the 5th movement of Beethoven's String Quartet in C-sharp minor, Op. 131.  Meyer wanted to show how music is defined by its flirtation with--but not submission to--our expectations of order.  He dissected fifty measures of Beethoven's masterpiece, showing how Beethoven begins with the clear statement of a rhythmic and harmonic pattern and then, in an intricate tonal dance, carefully avoids repeating it.  What Beethoven does instead is suggest variations of the pattern.  He is its evasive shadow. If E major is the tonic, Beethoven will play incomplete versions of the E major chord, always careful to avoid its straight expression. He wants to preserve an element of uncertainty in his music, making our brains beg for the one chord he refuses to give us. Beethoven saves that chord for the end. &lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;According to Meyer, it is the suspenseful tension of music (arising out of our unfulfilled expectations) that is the source of the music's feeling. While earlier theories of music focused on the way a noise can refer to the real world of images and experiences (its "connotative" meaning), Meyer argued that the emotions we find in music come from the unfolding events of the music itself.  This "embodied meaning" arises from the patterns the symphony invokes and then ignores, from the ambiguity it creates inside its own form. "For the human mind," Meyer writes, "such states of doubt and confusion are abhorrent. When confronted with them, the mind attempts to resolve them into clarity and certainty."  And so we wait, expectantly, for the resolution of E major, for Beethoven's established pattern to be completed. This nervous anticipation, says Meyer, "is the whole raison d'etre of the passage, for its purpose is precisely to delay the cadence in the tonic."   The uncertainty makes the feeling. &lt;strong&gt;Music is a form whose meaning depends upon its violation&lt;/strong&gt;.&lt;/blockquote&gt; &lt;/p&gt; &lt;a href="http://scienceblogs.com/cortex/2010/01/musical_predictions.php#commentsArea"&gt;Read the comments on this post...&lt;/a&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/scienceblogs/wDAM/~4/WpB1S6LhGmc" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</description>
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         <pubDate>Wed, 20 Jan 2010 08:54:42 -0500</pubDate>
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         <title>Chess Intuition</title>
          <description>&lt;p&gt;Time Magazine has an interesting &lt;a href="http://www.time.com/time/magazine/article/0,9171,1950683,00.html"&gt;profile&lt;/a&gt; of Magnus Carlsen, the youngest chess player to achieve a number one world ranking:&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;blockquote&gt;Genius can appear anywhere, but the origins of Carlsen's talent are particularly mysterious. He hails from Norway -- a "small, poxy chess nation with almost no history of success," as the English grand master Nigel Short sniffily describes it -- and unlike many chess prodigies who are full-time players by age 12, Carlsen stayed in school until last year. His father Henrik, a soft-spoken engineer, says he has spent more time urging his young son to complete his schoolwork than to play chess. Even now, Henrik will interrupt Carlsen's chess studies to drag him out for a family hike or museum trip. "I still have to pinch my arm," Henrik says. "This certainly is not what we had in mind for Magnus."

&lt;p&gt;Even pro chess players -- a population inured to demonstrations of extraordinary intellect -- have been electrified by Carlsen's rise. A grand master at 13 (the third youngest in history) and a conqueror of top players at 15, he is often referred to as the Mozart of chess for the seeming ease of his mastery. In September, he announced a coaching contract with Garry Kasparov, arguably the greatest player of all time, who quit chess in 2005 to pursue a political career in Russia. "Before he is done," Kasparov says, "Carlsen will have changed our ancient game considerably."&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;One of the fascinating elements of Carlsen's talent is that he's learned the game by playing computer chess, matching his wits against advanced algorithms. The end result is a prodigy who's amassed an unprecedented amount of deliberate practice at an early age, as he's able to play multiple games on the same machine at the same time. Computers, in other words, have accelerated the pace of his chess education.&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;The article then discusses Carlsen's semi-mystical chess "intuition," which allows the youngster to "feel for where to place the pieces":&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;blockquote&gt;According to Kasparov, Carlsen has a knack for sensing the potential energy in each move, even if its ultimate effect is too far away for anyone -- even a computer -- to calculate. In the grand-master commentary room, where chess's clerisy gather to analyze play, the experts did not even consider several of Carlsen's moves during his game with Kramnik until they saw them and realized they were perfect. "It's hard to explain," Carlsen says. "Sometimes a move just feels right."&lt;/blockquote&gt;

&lt;p&gt;At first glance, there is something surprising about a teenager weaned on chess software extolling the wonders of intuition. It's as if we expect Carlsen to act like his software, to be as explicit in his strategic decisions as Deep Blue, the IBM supercomputer. But that misses the real purpose of practice and the real genius of the human brain. When we practice properly - and this means engaging in &lt;a href="http://scholar.google.com/scholar?hl=en&amp;client=safari&amp;rls=en&amp;q=author:%22Ericsson%22+intitle:%22The+role+of+deliberate+practice+in+the+acquisition+of+...%22+&amp;um=1&amp;ie=UTF-8&amp;oi=scholarr"&gt;deliberate practice&lt;/a&gt; - we aren't just accumulating factual knowledge. Instead, we're embedding our experience into our unconscious, so that even insanely complicated calculations - and Carlsen can regularly plan twenty chess moves in advance - become mostly automatic. &lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;This is a truism of expertise. Although we tend to think of experts as being weighted down by information, their intelligence dependent on a vast set of facts, experts are actually profoundly intuitive. When experts evaluate a situation, they don't systematically compare all the available options or consciously analyze the relevant information. Carlsen, for instance, doesn't compute the probabilities of winning if he moves his rook to the left rather than the right. Instead, experts naturally depend on the emotions generated by their experience. Their prediction errors - all those mistakes they made in the past - have been translated into useful knowledge, which allows them to tap into a set of accurate feelings they can't begin to explain. Neils Bohr said it best: an expert is "a person who has made all the mistakes that can be made in a very narrow field."  From the perspective of the brain, Bohr was absolutely right. &lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;And this is why we shouldn't be surprised that a chess prodigy raised on chess computer programs would be even &lt;em&gt;more&lt;/em&gt; intuitive than traditional grandmasters. The software allows him to play more chess, which allows him to make more mistakes, which allows him to accumulate experience at a prodigious pace.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;a href="http://scienceblogs.com/cortex/2010/01/chess_intuition.php#commentsArea"&gt;Read the comments on this post...&lt;/a&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/scienceblogs/wDAM/~4/WsPM0bMKbBk" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</description>
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         <pubDate>Mon, 18 Jan 2010 12:20:51 -0500</pubDate>
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         <title>Charity is Social</title>
          <description>&lt;p&gt;There's a new and very timely &lt;a href="http://www.jneurosci.org.resources.library.brandeis.edu/cgi/content/abstract/30/2/583"&gt;paper&lt;/a&gt; out this week that looks at the cortical mechanics of charitable giving. While it's been known for a few years that giving away money activates the dopamine reward pathway - that's why doing good &lt;em&gt;feels&lt;/em&gt; good - this latest paper attempted to investigate the philanthropic system in detail. In a world full of need, how do we choose where to give?&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;The larger goal of the scientists was to better understand a core feature of the human brain, which is the ability to assign value to alternatives. How do we know that X is better than Y? How does the cacophony of mental activity - a confusing swirl of experience, memory and sensation - get transformed into a neat computational signal, which allows us to automatically assess our options? Here are the Caltech neuroeconomists, laying out their agenda:&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;blockquote&gt;Donations to charity represent a complex social decision in which the benefits for the giver are abstract and indirect, unlike decisions involving primary reward or money where the benefit is concrete. Although two previous neuroimaging studies of charitable giving have reported activity in regions that respond to primary reward, neither addressed the questions of what neural networks provide the input used to compute values. In the case of decisions over primary rewards (e.g., choosing which juice to drink), the value is likely to be influenced by sensory factors such as expected taste and by somatic states such as thirst. On the other hand, computing the value of a charitable donation might require inputs from areas involved in social cognition. For example, because giving to charity involves sacrificing resources for the benefit of others, these decisions are likely to require a shift in attention away from the subject's own state to focus on the needs of others. In addition, the value that we assign to addressing the needs of others might depend on how much empathy we feel for them.&lt;/blockquote&gt;

&lt;p&gt;The experiment itself was straightforward. Twenty-two female subjects were given $100 to spend in the fMRI machine on various charities; whatever money they didn't spend was theirs to keep.(In addition, subjects were told that their donations to charity would be matched by a separate pool of research funds. Thus, when a subject donated $25 from her endowment, the charity received $50. So this investigation into altruism was itself altruistic.) The subjects then completed 150 trials in the scanner, as they decided how much to donate to 75 different charitable organizations, from the Brain Tumor Society to the Los Angeles Opera. (Before the scanning, the women were asked to rate the charity on a scale of "deservingness" and its "closeness to them," which was defined as the likelihood that someone they knew would directly benefit from its mission.)&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;What did the fMRI machine reveal? The "value" of a charitable donation was reflected in the activity of a brain area called the ventromedial prefrontal cortex (VMPFC), a bit of tissue a few inches behind the forehead. Furthermore, the VMPFC seemed to be making its computations by summing the responses of a variety of other "primary areas," such as the anterior insula and posterior superior temporal cortex (pSTC), both of which are associated with aspects of social cognition. (The insula has been linked to feelings of empathy, while the pSTC is in charge of perceiving agency in others.) &lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;The real question, of course, is what this scanning experiment can teach us about the psychology of charity, apart from giving us a few new acronyms to reference. Here's Hare, et. al.:&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;blockquote&gt;One basic hypothesis that has been proposed in behavioral economics is that the amount given to a charity depends solely on the giver's preferences for that donation. The functional connectivity data presented here suggest that social cognition capabilities might also play a role in determining the size of the donation, perhaps by influencing how the value of giving (i.e., the preferences) are computed at the time of the decision. For example, a subject who does not activate the insula might end up giving a small donation because she does not generate the empathy necessary to construct such a preference. Similarly, a subject who does not activate pSTC with sufficient strength might make a small donation, not because she is indifferent to the charity's beneficiaries when she is able to take their perspective, but because she has difficulty focusing her attention on others. &lt;/blockquote&gt;

&lt;p&gt;The point, then, is that charitable donations aren't purely rational calculations. Instead, our decisions are deeply influenced by the quirky social machinery of the brain, which is influenced by variables like empathy (How close do we feel to the beneficiaries of the good cause?) and the ability to detect agency (Does the charity make us think of other people?). This helps explain the effect I &lt;a href="http://scienceblogs.com/cortex/2010/01/haiti.php"&gt;blogged&lt;/a&gt; about yesterday, or why abstract appeals tend to be less compelling than concrete examples of individual suffering. When it comes to altruism, specificity beats scope, if only because the decision to give is inherently social.&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;I think this research also helps explain why social media like Facebook, Twitter, etc. always seem to become extra relevant during crises and disasters. While the platforms were designed to convey social banalities, they can also serve as vessels of empathy, as people forward along the latest reports and most resonant stories. It doesn't matter if the subject is Iranian protests or Haitian refugees - social media makes the tragedy feel closer, more human.  And that is what makes the tragedy feel real.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;a href="http://scienceblogs.com/cortex/2010/01/charity_is_social.php#commentsArea"&gt;Read the comments on this post...&lt;/a&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/scienceblogs/wDAM/~4/i1YRiU0QAQs" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</description>
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         <title>Haiti</title>
          <description>&lt;p&gt;The news out of Haiti this morning is hellish; the Earth slips and thousands die. The early reports have the same feel as the 2004 Indian Ocean tsunami, in that every bulletin brings more awful news. I already find myself dreading tomorrow's newspaper, which will outline the full scope of the tragedy. Here is more &lt;a href="http://thelede.blogs.nytimes.com/2010/01/13/haiti-disaster-relief-how-to-contribute/"&gt;information&lt;/a&gt; on where to donate.&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;I'd like to take a moment and discuss a cruel paradox of such events, which is that the sheer scale of the suffering seems to inhibit our empathy. There are no stories yet, just anecdotal shards and heartbreaking photographs. And so all we get is ledes citing the horrifying statistics and shocking numbers of dead. But these numbers quickly get incomprehensible - we can't imagine a thousand corpses - and so the emotional event becomes an abstraction, which fails to trigger the proper moral reaction. In my book, I write about the research of Paul Slovic, a psychologist at the University of Oregon, who has looked at this paradox in detail:&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;blockquote&gt;Slovic's experiments are simple: he asks people how much they would be willing to donate to various charitable causes.  For example, Slovic found that when people were shown a picture of a single starving child named Rokia in Mali, they acted with impressive generosity. After looking at Rokia's emaciated body and haunting brown eyes, they donated, on average, two dollars and fifty cents to Save the Children. However, when a second group of people were provided with a list of statistics about starvation throughout Africa⎯more than three million children in Malawi are malnourished, more than eleven million people in Ethiopia need immediate food assistance, etc.⎯the average donation was fifty percent lower. At first glance, this makes no sense. When we are informed about the true scope of the problem we should give more money, not less. Rokia's tragic story is just the tip of the iceberg.

&lt;p&gt;According to Slovic, the problem with statistics is that they don't activate our moral emotions. The depressing numbers leave us cold: our mind can't comprehend suffering on such a massive scale. This is why we are riveted when one child falls down a well, but turn a blind eye to the millions of people who die every year for lack of clean water. Or why we donate thousands of dollars to help a single African war orphan featured on the cover of a magazine, but ignore widespread genocides in Rwanda or Darfur. As Mother Theresa put it, "If I look at the mass I will never act. If I look at the one, I will."&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;a href="http://scienceblogs.com/cortex/2010/01/haiti.php#commentsArea"&gt;Read the comments on this post...&lt;/a&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/scienceblogs/wDAM/~4/mYxuhL-Fwlw" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</description>
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         <title>Falsification</title>
          <description>&lt;p&gt;In a recent New Yorker, &lt;a href="http://www.newyorker.com/online/blogs/johncassidy/2010/01/the-chicago-school-and-the-financial-crisis.html"&gt;John Cassidy&lt;/a&gt; spends time with a number of influential economists at the University of Chicago, home to the Chicago School and its emphasis on the productive efficiency of free markets. Obviously, the financial maelstrom of the last few years has led many to question this premise, at least in its strongest form. How have these economists reacted? If you read my recent article in &lt;a href="http://www.wired.com/magazine/2009/12/fail_accept_defeat/all/1"&gt;Wired&lt;/a&gt; on the psychology of failure, you probably aren't too surprised to learn that Cassidy finds several eminent Chicago economists who insist that the market failure wasn't actually a failure, or that even if there was a failure then it didn't involve the markets. In other words, their assumption remains intact - it's the evidence that's so flawed.&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;Here, for instance, is Cassidy interviewing Eugene Fama:&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;blockquote&gt;I asked him how this theory [the efficient-markets hypothesis, which "underpinned the deregulation of financial markets] had fared in the recent crisis, which many, myself included, have described as an example of gross inefficiency. Fama was unruffled. "I think it did quite well in this episode," he said..."Stock prices typically decline prior to a recession and in a state of recession. This was a particularly severe recession. Prices started to decline in advance of when people recognized that it was a recession and then continued to decline. That was exactly what you would expect if markets were efficient."

&lt;p&gt;The emphasis that Fama placed on the stock market surprised me. Surely, I said, we had experienced a giant credit bubble, which eventually had burst. "I don't know what a credit bubble means," Fama replied, his eyes twinkling. "I don't even know what a bubble means. These words have become popular. I don't think they have any meaning...People have jumped on the bandwagon of blaming financial markets. I can tell a story very easily in which the financial markets were a casualty of the recession, not a cause of it."&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;The interview continues in a similar vein. The point is that nothing in the last few years, at least in Cassidy's telling, has led Fama to reconsider his theoretical assumptions. The financial markets are efficient; government regulation is to blame. In my Wired article, I discuss some of the neuroscience behind such intellectual stubbornness, and the way the brain cleverly dismisses dissonant information. &lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;But Cassidy's excellent article also made me think about the role of colleagues in triggering new ideas, and the potential dangers of working in a department filled with people who share the same ideology. Here I describe the research of Kevin Dunbar, who spent several years watching scientists work:&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;blockquote&gt;While the scientific process is typically seen as a lonely pursuit -- researchers solve problems by themselves -- Dunbar found that most new scientific ideas emerged from lab meetings, those weekly sessions in which people publicly present their data. Interestingly, the most important element of the lab meeting wasn't the presentation -- it was the debate that followed. Dunbar observed that the skeptical (and sometimes heated) questions asked during a group session frequently triggered breakthroughs, as the scientists were forced to reconsider data they'd previously ignored. The new theory was a product of spontaneous conversation, not solitude; a single bracing query was enough to turn scientists into temporary outsiders, able to look anew at their own work.

&lt;p&gt;But not every lab meeting was equally effective. Dunbar tells the story of two labs that both ran into the same experimental problem: The proteins they were trying to measure were sticking to a filter, making it impossible to analyze the data. "One of the labs was full of people from different backgrounds," Dunbar says. "They had biochemists and molecular biologists and geneticists and students in medical school." The other lab, in contrast, was made up of E. coli experts. "They knew more about E. coli than anyone else, but that was what they knew," he says. Dunbar watched how each of these labs dealt with their protein problem. The E. coli group took a brute-force approach, spending several weeks methodically testing various fixes. "It was extremely inefficient," Dunbar says. "They eventually solved it, but they wasted a lot of valuable time."&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;The diverse lab, in contrast, mulled the problem at a group meeting. None of the scientists were protein experts, so they began a wide-ranging discussion of possible solutions. At first, the conversation seemed rather useless. But then, as the chemists traded ideas with the biologists and the biologists bounced ideas off the med students, potential answers began to emerge. "After another 10 minutes of talking, the protein problem was solved," Dunbar says. "They made it look easy."&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;When Dunbar reviewed the transcripts of the meeting, he found that the intellectual mix generated a distinct type of interaction in which the scientists were forced to rely on metaphors and analogies to express themselves. (That's because, unlike the E. coli group, the second lab lacked a specialized language that everyone could understand.) These abstractions proved essential for problem-solving, as they encouraged the scientists to reconsider their assumptions. Having to explain the problem to someone else forced them to think, if only for a moment, like an intellectual on the margins, filled with self-skepticism.&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;The lesson is that the process of discovery benefits from our differences, from the disagreements and contradictions that arise when people with different assumptions discuss the same data. When everyone agrees, or has the same academic background,&lt;br /&gt;
then the stubbornness is reinforced. The theory doesn't change. The School of X - and it doesn't matter what X is - remains tethered to its dusty preconceptions. The failure never leads to a better answer.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;a href="http://scienceblogs.com/cortex/2010/01/falsification.php#commentsArea"&gt;Read the comments on this post...&lt;/a&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/scienceblogs/wDAM/~4/2QMiCuUuH1I" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</description>
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         <title>How We Decide (Paperback Remix)</title>
          <description>&lt;p&gt;The paperback of &lt;em&gt;How We Decide&lt;/em&gt; is now shipping from your favorite online retailers and should be in local bookstores. To celebrate the occasion, I thought I'd repost an interview I conducted with myself when the hardcover was published last year. If you'd like more, there's also &lt;a href="http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=101334645"&gt;this&lt;/a&gt; interview on Fresh Air, and &lt;a href="http://www.colbertnation.com/the-colbert-report-videos/217984/february-05-2009/jonah-lehrer"&gt;this&lt;/a&gt; interview on the Colbert Report. &lt;/p&gt;

&lt;blockquote&gt;Q: Why did you want to write a book about decision-making?

&lt;p&gt;A: It all began with Cheerios. I'm an incredibly indecisive person. There I was, aimlessly wandering the cereal aisle of the supermarket, trying to choose between the apple-cinnamon and honey-nut varieties. It was an embarrassing waste of time and yet it happened to me all the time. Eventually, I decided that enough was enough: I needed to understand what was happening inside my brain as I contemplated my breakfast options. I soon realized, of course, that this new science of decision-making had implications far grander than Cheerios.&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;Q: What are some of those implications?&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;A: Ever since the time of the ancient Greeks, we've assumed that humans are rational creatures. When we make a decision, we are supposed to consciously analyze the alternatives and carefully weigh the pros and cons. This simple idea underlies the philosophies of Plato and Descartes; it forms the foundation of modern economics; it drove decades of research in cognitive science. Over time, rationality came to define us. It was, simply put, what made us human. There's only one problem with this assumption: it's wrong. It's not how the brain works. For the first time in human history, we can look inside our brain and see how we think. It turns out that we weren't engineered to be rational or logical or even particularly deliberate. Instead, our mind holds a messy network of different areas, many of which are involved with the production of emotion. Whenever we make a decision, the brain is awash in feeling, driven by its inexplicable passions. Even when we try to be reasonable and restrained, these emotional impulses secretly influence our judgment.&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;Q: Can neuroscience really teach us how to make better decisions?&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;A: My answer is a qualified yes. Despite the claims of many self-help books, there is no secret recipe for decision-making, no single strategy that can work in every situation. The real world is just too complex. The thought process that excels in the supermarket won't pass muster in the Oval Office. Therefore natural selection endowed us with a brain that is enthusiastically pluralist. Sometimes we need to reason through our options and carefully analyze the possibilities. And sometimes we need to listen to our emotions and gut instinct. The secret, of course, is knowing when to use different styles of thought--when to trust feelings and when to exercise reason. In my book, I devoted a chapter to looking at the world through the prism of the game of poker and found that, in poker as in life, two broad categories of decisions exist: math problems and mysteries. The first step to making the right decision, then, is accurately diagnosing the problem and figuring out which brain system to rely on. Should we trust our intuition or calculate the probabilities? We always need to be thinking about how we think.&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;Q: Why write this book now?&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;A: Neuroscience can seem abstract, a science preoccupied with questions about the cellular details of perception and the memory of fruit flies. In recent years, however, the field has been invaded by some practical thinkers. These scientists want to use the nifty experimental tools of modern neuroscience to explore some of the mysteries of everyday life. How should we choose a cereal? What areas of the brain are triggered in the shopping mall? Why do smart people accumulate credit card debt and take out subprime mortgages? How can you use the brain to explain financial bubbles? For the first time, these incredibly relevant questions have rigorously scientific answers. It all goes back to that classical Greek aphorism: Know thyself. I'd argue that the discoveries of modern neuroscience allow us to know ourselves (and our decisions!) in an entirely new way.&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;Q: HOW WE DECIDE draws from the latest research in neuroscience yet also analyzes some crucial moments in the lives of a variety of "deciders," from the football star Tom Brady to a soap opera director. Why did you take this approach?&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;A: Herbert Simon, the Nobel Prize-winning psychologist, famously compared our mind to a pair of scissors. One blade, he said, represented the brain. The other blade was the specific environment in which our brain was operating. If you want to understand the function of scissors, Simon said, then you have to look at both blades simultaneously. What I wanted to do in HOW WE DECIDE was venture out of the lab and into the real world so that I could see the scissors at work. I discuss some ingenious experiments in this book, but let's face it: the science lab is a startlingly artificial place. And so, wherever possible, I tried to explore these scientific theories in the context of everyday life. Instead of just writing about hyperbolic discounting and the feebleness of the prefrontal cortex, I spent time with a debt counselor in the Bronx. When I became interested in the anatomy of insight⎯where do our good ideas come from?⎯I interviewed a pilot whose epiphany in the cockpit saved hundreds of lives. That's when you really begin to appreciate the power of this new science--when you can use its ideas to explain all sorts of important phenomena, such as the risky behavior of teenagers, the amorality of psychopaths, and the tendency of some athletes to choke under pressure.&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;Q: What do you do in the cereal aisle now?&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;I was about halfway through writing the book when I got some great advice from a scientist. I was telling him about my Cheerios dilemma when he abruptly interrupted me: "The secret to happiness," he said in a very authoritative voice, "is not wasting time on irrelevant decisions." Of course, this sage advice didn't help me figure out what kind of cereal I actually wanted to eat for breakfast. So I did the only logical thing: I bought my three favorite Cheerios varieties (Honey-Nut, Multigrain and Original) and combined them all in my cereal bowl. Problem solved. &lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;a href="http://scienceblogs.com/cortex/2010/01/how_we_decide_paperback_remix.php#commentsArea"&gt;Read the comments on this post...&lt;/a&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/scienceblogs/wDAM/~4/P_TY62whMsU" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</description>
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         <title>Intelligence and the Idle Mind</title>
          <description>&lt;p&gt;I've written before about the &lt;a href="http://www.boston.com/bostonglobe/ideas/articles/2008/08/31/daydream_achiever/"&gt;importance&lt;/a&gt; of daydreaming and the so-called default, or resting state network, which seems to underlie some important features of human cognition. Instead of being shackled to our immediate surroundings and sensations, the daydreaming mind is free to engage in abstract thought and imaginative ramblings and interesting counterfactuals. As a result, we're able to envision things that don't actually exist. &lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;Of course, this new research conflicts with the bad reputation of mind wandering. Children in school are encouraged to stop daydreaming and "focus," and wandering minds are often cited as a leading cause of traffic accidents. In a culture obsessed with efficiency, daydreaming is derided as a lazy habit or a lack of discipline, the kind of thinking we rely on when we don't really want to think.&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;However, in the latest &lt;a href="http://www.scientificamerican.com/article.cfm?id=idle-minds-intelligence"&gt;edition&lt;/a&gt; of Mind Matters, Susan Whitfield-Gabrieli and John Gabrieli of MIT outline some interesting new research on the link between resting state activity - the performance of the brain when it's lying still in a brain scanner, doing nothing but daydreaming - and general intelligence. It turns out that cultivating an active idle mind, or teaching yourself how to daydream effectively, might actually encourage the sort of long-range neural connections that make us smart. At the very least, it's time we stop discouraging kids from staring out the classroom window, because mind wandering isn't a waste of time:&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;blockquote&gt;For the first time, functional measures of the resting brain are providing new insights into network properties of the brain that are associated with IQ scores. In essence, they suggest that in smart people, distant areas of the brain communicate with each other more robustly than in less smart people.

&lt;p&gt;In a recent paper, researchers at the Chinese Academy of Sciences, led by Ming Song, examined how resting brain networks differ between people who have superior versus average IQ scores. They used graph theory to quantify the network properties of the brain, such as how strong the communication is among distant brain regions. A graph is a mathematical representation that is composed of nodes (or brain regions) and connections between them (functional connectivity or temporal correlations), and can be used to characterize neural networks. Like prior researchers, they found that the posterior cingulate cortex is the hub of the human brain - it is the most widely and intensively connected region of the human brain at rest.  Moreover, the strength of connectivity among distant brain regions was greater in people with superior than average IQ scores. Another 2009 study came to a similar conclusion, and noted that the strongest relations between resting connectivity and IQ were observed in the frontal and parietal brain regions, which have been most associated with performance on IQ tests.&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;Thus, remarkably, the strength of long-distance connections in the resting brain can be related to performance on IQ tests.  We are often impressed when people make creative connections between ideas - perhaps long-range connectivity in the brain empowers such mental range.&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;a href="http://scienceblogs.com/cortex/2010/01/intelligence_and_the_idle_mind.php#commentsArea"&gt;Read the comments on this post...&lt;/a&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/scienceblogs/wDAM/~4/4M9EXbQfPUA" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</description>
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         <title>Funding Innovation</title>
          <description>&lt;p&gt;Via &lt;a href="http://www.marginalrevolution.com/marginalrevolution/2009/12/the-danger-of-old-scientists.html"&gt;Tyler Cowen&lt;/a&gt;, comes this graph of demographic shifts in NIH grants, which show a clear trend: older scientists are getting more money.&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;&lt;span class="mt-enclosure mt-enclosure-image" style="display: inline;"&gt;&lt;img alt="6a00d8341c66b253ef0120a76bb7fe970b-800wi.png" src="http://scienceblogs.com/cortex/6a00d8341c66b253ef0120a76bb7fe970b-800wi.png" width="649" height="375" class="mt-image-center" style="text-align: center; display: block; margin: 0 auto 20px;" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;Cowen also cites the eminent economist Paul Romer, who worries about the effect of this shift on innovation:&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;blockquote&gt;Instead of young scientists getting grant funding to go off and do whatever they want in their twenties, they're working in a lab where somebody in his forties or fifties is the principal investigator in charge of the grant.  They're working as apprentices, almost, under the senior person.  If we're not careful, we could let our institutions, things like tenure and hierarchical structures and peer review, slowly morph over time so that old guys control more and more of what's going on and the young people have a harder and harder time doing something really different, and that would be would be a bad thing for these processes of growth and change.  I'd like to see us keep thinking about how we could tweak our institutions to give power and control and opportunity to young people. 
&lt;/blockquote&gt;

&lt;p&gt;The bad news is that Romer is right, at least in part: young scientists, in general, tend to be a bit more innovative. (If you noticed all the conditionals and hedges in that sentence, please keep on reading.) The ingenuity of youth is perhaps best demonstrated by the inverted U curve of creative output, a well-studied phenomenon in which creativity rapidly increases at the start of a career before it crests and declines. Here's &lt;a href="http://psychology.ucdavis.edu/simonton/"&gt;Dean Simonton&lt;/a&gt;,  a psychologist at UC-Davis who has painstakingly quantified this demographic data:&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;blockquote&gt;One empirical generalization appears to be fairly secure: If one plots creative output as a function of age, productivity tends to rise fairly rapidly to a definite peak and thereafter decline gradually until output is about half the rate at the peak.&lt;/blockquote&gt;

&lt;p&gt;For instance, Simonton and others have shown that physicists tend to make their most important discovery before the age of 30, which is why they morbidly joke that if they haven't done Nobel-worthy work before they get married, they might as well quit the field. (The only field that peaks before physics is poetry, with an ideal creative age of 21.) Simonton argues that young physicists and poets mostly benefit from their innocence, ignorance and naivete. Because they haven't become "encultured," weighted down with false assumptions and tedious obligations, they're more willing to rebel against the status-quo. (Simonton rejects the obvious alternative explanation, which is that the creative decline is due to age-related cognitive decline. After all, some academic fields, such as literary criticism, have a peak creative age in the late forties.)&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;So I do think Romer is right to worry about this slow creep in grant funding to older scientists. However, before we start blaming the staid conservatism of the NIH, I think it's worth considering the extent to which this shift might be due to intellectual changes within scientific fields. In other words, the changes in funding might be a side-effect of scientific progress, and not an institutional failure. &lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;Let's begin by considering the differences in peak creative age between different scientific fields. While physics, math and poetry are dominated by brash youth, many other fields are more amenable to middle age. (Simonton's list includes domains such as "novel writing, history, philosophy, medicine".) He argues that these fields show a very different creative curve, with a  "a leisurely rise giving way a comparatively late peak, in the late 40s or even 50s chronologically, with a minimal if not largely absent drop-off afterward."  (These differences are also cross-cultural: for instance, the age gap between the creative peaks for poets and novelists has been found in every major literary tradition across the world, with novelists getting wise and poets getting stale.) This suggests that the most efficient allocation of grants in these fields - at least if we want to fund innovation - is to fund medical researchers, philosophers and novelists in middle age, when they're tenured and deeply "encultured". Sometimes, innovation requires decades of education. That might not be romantic - it's amazing how many cliches of creativity come from 19th century British poets - but it's the demographic reality.&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;What accounts for these stark differences in peak creative age? One possibility is that they are caused by intrinsic features of the academic disciplines. As Simonton notes, those disciplines with an "intricate, highly articulated body of domain knowledge," such as physics, chess and poetry, tend to encourage youthful productivity. In contrast, fields that are more loosely defined, in which the basic concepts are ambiguous and unclear - examples include biology, philosophy and lit crit - lead to later peak productive ages. Furthermore, the peak of all intellectuals seems to be getting postponed, as the increasing complexity of research in general requires increased time to master. In 1500, the peak of creative output was 25; by 1960, it was 37.&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;But that doesn't mean we can afford to ignore the graying of NIH funding. I've talked to far too many young scientists who are exhausted by the bureaucracy of getting money. We need to fund impetuous youth, if only to give them time to grow old and wise.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;a href="http://scienceblogs.com/cortex/2010/01/funding_innovation.php#commentsArea"&gt;Read the comments on this post...&lt;/a&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/scienceblogs/wDAM/~4/XT_mNHRruoA" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</description>
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