Language in self-observation moreWagoner, B. (2012). Language in self observation. In J. Clegg (ed.), Self Observation in the Human Sciences. Charlotte, N.C.: Transaction Publishers. |
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Pragmatism, Qualitative methodology, Research Methodology, Psychology of Language, Introspection, and History Of Psychology
In
J.
Clegg
(ed.),
Self
Observation
in
the
Human
Sciences.
Charlotte,
N.C.:
Transaction
Publishers.
Language
in
Self-observation
Brady
Wagoner
Aalborg
University,
Denmark
The
issue
of
language
is
at
the
heart
of
self-‐observation.
In
order
for
an
experience
to
become
scientific
data
it
has
to
be
expressed
in
a
communicable
form.
As
with
all
language
use,
we
must
presuppose
a
social
practice,
in
which
expressions
can
be
made
sense
of
and
evaluated
by
others
(Wittgenstein,
1953).
The
practice
of
social
observation
developed
out
of
the
protestant
cultural
tradition,
whereby
one
engaged
in
private
self-‐scrutiny
and
self-‐examination.
When
this
tradition
transformed
into
scientific
practice
new
languages,
social
relationships
and
roles
were
simultaneously
developed,
which
in
some
ways
displaced
and
in
other
ways
extended
the
existing
traditions
of
self-‐observation.
In
either
religious
or
scientific
self-‐observation,
knowledge
of
one’s
own
mind
is
inseparably
intertwined
with
the
institutions
in
which
the
activity
is
performed.
As
language
is
an
essential
feature
of
institutional
life,
it
is
little
surprise
that
the
early
debates
between
psychological
laboratories
about
self-‐observation
often
revolved
around
issues
of
language,
description
and
expression.
The
fact
that
language
is
intimately
related
to
the
practice
of
self-‐ observation
poses
a
major
challenge
for
developing
adequate
methodologies,
which
I
will
argue
the
early
introspectionists
were
not
fully
aware
of.
They
were
guided
largely
by
a
dualistic
assumption
that
the
mind
is
inherently
individual
and
private.
Beginning
with
this
assumption,
however,
one
wonders
how
anything
can
be
communicated
about
inner
experience
at
all!
If
self-‐observation
is
intimately
linked
to
social
practices
and
social
institutions,
we
cannot
legitimately
claim
that
it
is
a
purely
individual
process,
but
must
instead
explore
it
in
its
social
dimensions.
In
contrast
to
dualism,
I
will
adopt
the
functionalist
perspective
of
the
American
pragmatists
and
argue
that
the
act
of
self-‐ observation
is
essentially
a
social
process.
This
will
be
true
of
both
its
inner-‐ directed
observation
phase
and
outer-‐directed
communication
phase.
Furthermore,
we
will
see
that
the
two
phases
need
to
be
considered
together,
as
a
cycle,
if
we
are
to
understand
the
data
of
self-‐observation.
Rather
than
condemning
self-‐observation
as
a
method
bound
to
failure,
I
argue
that
these
dynamics
open
up
novel
avenues
for
pursuing
it,
which
I
will
illustrate
with
a
study
of
process-‐oriented
rating
scales.
The
present
chapter
is
divided
into
three
parts:
First,
a
brief
history
of
the
early
laboratories
using
self-‐observation
is
given,
focusing
on
how
various
linguistic
practices
and
social
relationships
among
experimenter
and
observer
shaped
their
results.
Second,
I
outline
an
argument
for
studying
mind
as
it
becomes
embodied
in
a
public
material
medium
and
the
influence
of
others
and
social
institutions
on
the
operation
and
observation
of
mind.
Finally,
I
will
use
ideas
developed
here
to
critique
and
redevelop
contemporary
psychology’s
most
widely
used
and
perhaps
(willfully)
least
understood
method
of
self-‐observation,
rating
scales.
The
act
of
rating
will
be
shown
to
involve
a
dialogical
process
of
linguistic
sense
making,
and
as
such
the
idea
that
rating
scales
provide
unitary
access
to
some
inherently
quantifiable
mental
state
will
have
to
be
abandoned.
Instead,
rating
scales
can
be
used
as
tools
to
explore
the
context
sensitive
dynamics
of
research
participants’
meaning
making.
Varieties
of
Laboratory
Language
There
are
many
varieties
of
‘self-‐observation’,
even
among
the
early
laboratories
of
psychology.
Using
a
single
label
for
them
all
should
not
blind
us
to
their
diversity.
The
languages
used
by
different
laboratories
reflected,
or
perhaps
constructed,
these
differences
in
research
practice.
In
this
section,
I
will
briefly
compare
some
of
the
early
psychological
laboratories,
concentrating
on
how
their
language
use
and
the
practice
of
self-‐observation
interrelate.
Thus,
I
will
not
attempt
to
tell
a
full
narrative
history,
but
rather
focus
on
core
themes
emerging
around
the
issue
of
language.
Although
self-‐observation
has
a
long
history,
it
will
for
our
purposes
be
convenient
to
begin
with
Wundt,
because
he
initiated
a
new
phase
of
research
practice
and
set
up
the
restrictions
on
self-‐ observation,
which
others
would
feel
compelled
to
transgress.
Wundt
and
why
simple
judgments
are
not
so
simple
Wundt
sharply
distinguished
his
method
of
‘internal
perception’
(innere
Wahrnehmung)
from
the
traditional
notion
of
‘self-‐observation’
(Selbstbeobachtung).
This
was
not
mere
semantics.
It
expressed
his
acceptance
of
arguments
by
earlier
thinkers
against
self-‐observation
as
a
viable
scientific
method
and
his
strategy
for
overcoming
the
problematic.
Firstly,
it
had
been
argued
that
scientific
method
required
the
subject
and
object
of
observation
be
independent
from
one
another,
which
was
not
the
case
in
traditional
self-‐ observation.
Second,
mental
events
were
not
reported
directly
but
rather
‘retrospectively’
and
thus
the
data
was
distorted
by
memory.
Wundt’s
solution
to
these
problems
was
to
only
accept
the
data
of
self-‐ observation
when
firstly,
there
was
a
controllable
external
stimulus
that
could
be
varied
at
will
to
produce
different
experiential
effects,
and
secondly,
observers
reported
their
experience
immediately
so
as
minimize
distortions
of
memory.
These
conditions
could
only
be
achieved
in
an
experimental
laboratory.
A
third
major
restriction,
following
from
the
other
two,
was
on
the
observer’s
use
of
language.
Danziger
(1980,
p.
247)
comments,
“the
introspective
reports
(in
Wundt’s
laboratory)
were
largely
limited
to
judgments
of
size,
intensity,
and
duration
of
physical
stimuli,
supplemented
at
times
by
judgments
of
their
simultaneity
and
succession”.
In
other
words,
it
was
not
the
sensations
as
such
that
were
described
but
rather
judgments
were
made
about
their
attributes
(Boring,
1950).
For
instance,
to
test
different
sensory
thresholds
Wundt
used
the
varied
the
distance
of
two
separate
points
on
the
skin
(a
method
first
used
by
physiologist
Ernst
Weber).
Observers
were
to
report
simply
whether
they
experienced
two
or
one
points
of
stimulation.
However,
even
with
this
relatively
straightforward
method
problems
crept
in.
In
a
study
done
by
Binet
(1903)
in
Paris,
instead
of
asking
of
judgments
of
one
OR
two-‐points,
he
had
observers
report
the
sensation
qualitatively.
In
so
doing,
he
found
an
array
of
intermediate
qualities
such
as
a
broad
heavy
point
or
bell
shaped
point.
Were
these
to
count
as
one
or
two-‐points?
That
depended
on
observers’
interpretation
of
the
task
and
the
meaning
of
one
or
two
points
within
a
social
practice.
The
Cambridge
expedition
to
the
Torres
Straight
ran
into
the
same
problem
in
using
the
two-‐point
test
to
see
whether
the
sensory
thresholds
of
natives
were
greater
than
Europeans.
The
trouble
was
it
is
unclear
that
the
people
on
the
Torres
Straight
interpreted
the
task
in
the
same
way
as
Europeans.
In
fact,
it
is
entirely
likely
that
they
saw
it
as
a
competitive
social
practice
and
as
such
they
were
more
willing
to
interpret
a
sensation
as
two-‐points
than
they
might
otherwise
be;
little
did
they
know
winning
here
really
meant
losing,
in
that
it
confirmed
western
prejudices
about
natives
as
having
superior
senses
and
as
a
result
a
weaker
intellect,
given
the
then
widespread
assumption
that
there
was
a
zero-‐sum
relation
between
the
two
(see
Richards,
1998)
It
is
interesting
to
note
that
the
question
of
intermediate
forms
between
one
and
two
points
does
not
arise
from
inside
Wundt’s
laboratory,
but
rather
from
an
outsider,
i.e.
Binet.
Wundt’s
theory
stated
that
the
qualitative
wholes
identified
by
Binet
could
be
broken
down
into
more
elementary
sensations,
which
would
then
decide
the
matter
between
one
or
two
points
once
and
for
all.
Observers
in
Wundt’s
laboratory
were
taught
to
automatically
decompose
wholes
into
their
elementary
sensations.
To
qualify
as
an
observer
in
Wundt’s
laboratory
one
had
to
have
made
ten
thousand
introspective
judgments,
so
as
to
make
judgments
more
immediately
and
thus
minimize
the
distorting
effect
of
thought
and
memory.
Thus,
observers
were
acculturated
to
the
particular
standards
of
correctedness
of
the
Leipzig
laboratory.
This
clearly
also
had
the
effect
of
forming
the
data
produced
in
self-‐observation
towards
that
laboratory’s
conventions.
In
sum,
even
at
this
fairly
basic
level
of
sensory
stimulation,
we
see
that
the
language
of
observation
is
closely
linked
to
what
is
observed.
What
one
experiences
is
interrelated
with
what
one
is
attending
to—a
fact
actually
established
early
on
in
the
introspection
debate.
The
Würzburg
School
and
the
virtues
and
vices
of
vague
vocabulary
It
wasn’t
long
before
Wundt’s
restrictions
on
self-‐observation
were
transgressed.
Oswald
Külpe,
one
of
Wundt’s
former
students,
headed
an
institute
of
experimental
psychology
in
Würzburg
that
developed
a
rather
different
experimental
practice
and
language
for
describing
the
mind.
Histories
of
the
Würzburg
School
usually
begin
in
1901
with
an
article
published
by
Mayer
and
Orth
on
some
of
the
qualitative
and
experiential
aspects
of
association.
Mayer
and
Orth
(1901)
aimed
to
classify
association
psychologically,
rather
than
logically,
as
had
previously
been
done.
To
do
so,
they
adopted
a
method,
whereby
the
observer
is
presented
with
a
word,
for
which
they
are
to
make
an
association,
and
then
retrospectively
report
on
the
process
and
mental
content
involved
in
making
it.
In
the
course
of
their
experiments,
they
claim
to
have
stumbled
upon
a
content
of
consciousness
that
did
not
fit
the
traditional
classifications
of
sensations,
feelings
and
images
(as
used
by,
for
example,
Wundt).
To
handle
this
new
content
they
invented
the
untranslatable
word
‘bewusstseinslagen’,
which
nonetheless
has
been
variously
translated
as
‘mental
set’,
‘posture
or
attitude
of
consciousness’
(Titchener,
1909),
‘state
of
consciousness’
(Humprey,
1951),
‘disposition
of
consciousness’
(Mandler
and
Mandler,
1963),
and
‘situation
of
consciousness’
(Kusch,
1999).
Later
that
year,
Marbe,
a
collaborator
with
Mayer
and
Orth
at
Würzburg,
published
a
monograph
on
judgment
using
a
similar
retrospective
method
and
language
of
description.
In
fact,
Marbe
restricted
his
participants’
language
of
reporting
to
the
traditional
classifications
of
mental
contents
plus
bewusstseinslagen
(Kusch,
1999).
Neither
Mayer
and
Orth’s
(1901)
nor
Marbe’s
(1901)
publication,
however,
did
much
with
the
new
concept,
beyond
identifying
it,
and
the
identification
itself
was
purely
negative,
as
not
an
image,
sensation
or
feeling.
Nevertheless,
in
giving
the
new
content
a
name,
they
created
an
open
descriptive
concept,
which
would
in
turn
trigger
a
generative
search
for
its
meaning
within
the
Würzburg
School.
The
word
bewusstseinslagen
(Bsl)
soon
encompassed
all
three
aspects
of
the
traditional
division
of
mind—i.e.,
conation,
feeling
and
cognition.
First,
against
Wundt’s
associative
psychology,
they
used
Bsl
to
conceptualize
mind
as
always
actively
engaged,
goal-‐directed,
or
purposive.
Second,
Bsl
could
be
the
feelings,
which
accompany
the
monitoring
of
progress
toward
the
task
goal.
Third,
it
could
be
understood
cognitively
as
a
kind
of
“summary
feeling”—e.g.,
Høffding’s
feeling
of
familiarity.
Given
this
wide-‐ranging
meaning
Bsl
quickly
became
ubiquitous
in
introspective
reports.
Consider
the
following
examples
from
Messer’s
(1905)
experiments,
in
which
observers
were
presented
with
a
stimulus
word
for
which
they
were
to,
for
example,
coordinate
a
concept
or
give
the
first
word
to
come
to
mind:
Subject
4:
“Bsl,
containing
two
thoughts:
1.
You
have
to
wait,
2.
The
coordinated
object
will
come
to
you.”
“Bsl,
for
which
I
can
give
the
thought:
that’s
easy.”
“Bsl:
There
is
a
subordinate
concept
somewhere,
but
you
can’t
formulate
it
very
easily.”
Subject
6:
“Bsl:
don’t
say
that.”
“Bsl,
my
father
always
used
to
mispronounce
that
name.”
“Bsl;
you
could
say
that
at
anytime.”
Subject
3:
“Bsl:
Why
not
think
about
something
else!”
(Quoted
from
Mandler,
2007,
p.
82)
Others
in
the
Würzburg
invented
concepts
akin
to
Bsl
that
either
supplemented
or
subsumed
it.
For
example,
Ach
(1905)
developed
the
even
broader
concept
of
‘awareness’
(Bewusstheit)
to
point
to
our
‘immediate
knowledge’
of
a
situation,
intention,
meaning
or
action.
Messer
(1906)
and
Bühler
(1907)
went
further
by
relabeling
Bsl
as
‘thought’
(Gedanke).
Bühler
is
particularly
interesting
for
our
purposes
because
he
not
only
reformed
the
theoretical
language
of
the
Würzburg
School
but
also
encouraged
the
free
use
of
language
by
the
participants
in
his
experiments.
According
to
him,
experimental
procedures
should
be
brought
closer
to
everyday
life
by
doing
away
with
complex
laboratory
equipment
and
re-‐conceiving
the
relation
between
experimenter
and
research
participant
as
a
naturalistic
conversation,
where
there
were
no
restrictions
on
the
possible
uses
of
language
to
describe
one’s
experience.
This
was
the
exact
opposite
of
Wundt’s
method
and
it
is
little
surprise
that
Wundt
was
one
of
the
most
vehement
critics.
We
will
return
to
this
issue
in
the
next
section.
Expressions
similar
to
Bsl
also
came
to
be
used
outside
of
Würzburg.
The
English
psychologist
Frederic
Bartlett,
for
example,
uses
the
word
‘attitude’
to
name
“a
complex
psychological
state
or
process
which
is
hard
to
describe
in
more
elementary
terms”
adding
that
“it
is,
however,
(...)
very
largely
a
matter
of
feeling,
or
affect”
(Bartlett,
1932,
pp.
206-‐207).
Bartlett
explicitly
points
out
the
similarity
between
his
concept
of
‘attitude’
and
Würzburg
psychologist
Betz’s
(1910)
concept
of
Einstellung
(Bartlett,
1916).
Although
Bartlett
did
not
use
his
participants’
self-‐observations
as
his
primary
data
of
analysis,
he
did
carefully
attend
to
them
in
reconstructing
the
process
by
which
the
primary
data
(e.g.,
story
reconstructions)
was
produced.
In
this
way,
Bartlett
fits
his
participants’
reports
(which
like
Bühler’s
experiments
were
expressed
in
everyday
language)
into
his
own
theoretical
language,
and
in
so
doing
lumps
together
a
diverse
range
of
expressions,
which
at
first
glance
do
not
seem
to
have
much
to
do
with
one
another—for
example,
“hesitation”,
“surprise”,
“confidence”,
“repulsion”,
“exciting”,
“adventurous”,
“like
I
read
as
a
child”,
and
“not
English”.
In
summary,
we
see
that
open
descriptive
concepts
can
be
both
enabling
and
constraining.
Coining
the
word
Bsl
guided
the
Würzburg
to
aspects
of
our
experience
previously
unattended
to
by
psychologists
and
philosophers.
In
so
doing,
they
set
up
a
new
space
of
exploration
and
development.
This
space
should
not
be
thought
of
as
simply
an
arena
waiting
to
be
discovered
but
rather
one
that
only
becomes
meaningful
within
social
framework
or
institution.
Psychological
phenomena
are
not
natural
kinds
like
electrons;
they
are
human
kinds,
which
presuppose
a
background
of
intelligibility
in
social
practices.
Even
more,
human
kinds
unlike
natural
kinds
have
the
potential
to
feedback
into
human
practices
and
transform
them
(Hacking,
1995).
Thus,
our
folk
conceptions
of
thought,
emotion
and
memory
guide
the
way
we
think,
feel
and
remember.
In
this
way,
new
psychological
concepts
open
doors
to
certain
research
practices
while
at
the
same
time
closing
others.
Bsl
was
productive
in
that
it
set
in
motion
a
novel
program
of
research
on
thinking,
using
an
innovative
new
methodology.
This
is
not
to
say
that
Würzburg
were
unconstrained
in
their
use
of
language.
Though
Würzburg
vocabulary
was
more
permissive
than
Wundt’s
laboratory
there
was
still
definite
institutional
constraint
on
what
and
how
an
experience
could
be
reported.
Holistic
psychology
and
the
poetics
of
description
Unsurprisingly,
there
was
a
heated
debate
between
positions
adopted
by
Wundt
and
the
Würzburgers
over
the
contents
of
consciousness
and
the
appropriate
methods
for
studying
psychological
phenomena.
Titchener,
a
student
of
Wundt,
adopted
Würzburg
like
methods
(i.e.
‘systematic
introspection’)
to
produce
evidence
for
Wundt’s
position
that
imageless
thought
did
not
occur.
Danziger
eloquently
describes
how
this
debate
transformed
into
one
about
the
use
of
language
for
reporting
experience:
The
question
of
the
validity
of
systematic
introspection
reports
[…]
becomes
a
question
of
the
relation
between
the
relationship
between
the
subjective
experiences
that
form
the
ultimate
data
and
the
verbal
form
in
which
they
are
symbolically
expressed.
This
relationship,
however,
can
take
different
forms,
just
as
a
physical
datum
can
be
symbolically
represented
by
a
drawing
or
by
verbal
description.
One
might
describe
the
distinguishing
parts
of
the
original
experience,
but
then
one
would
inevitably
fail
to
communicate
the
nature
of
the
experience
as
a
whole;
alternatively,
one
might
attempt
to
convey
the
quality
of
the
whole
experience,
but
this
would
usually
have
to
be
done
metaphorically,
and
therefore
ambiguously,
providing
no
certainty
that
the
experimenter’s
interpretation
corresponded
to
what
had
actually
been
in
the
subject’s
mind.
While
a
relatively
unambiguous
description
of
elements
of
experience
in
a
sensationalistic
language
is
possible,
it
is
also
irrelevant,
for
it
simply
does
not
give
an
account
of
the
experience
as
it
existed.
On
the
other
hand,
verbal
messages
about
actual
whole
experiences
have
an
expressive,
so
to
say
poetic,
quality
which
is
effective
for
purposes
of
interpersonal
communication,
but
which
allows
no
scientifically
certain
conclusions
to
be
drawn
about
the
precise
equivalence
of
what
the
message
evokes
in
the
mind
of
the
listener
and
what
went
on
in
the
mind
of
the
reporter.
(Danziger,
1980,
pp.
255-‐256)
In
this
section,
I
will
explore
the
dynamics
of
holistic
and
metaphorical
language
in
describing
ones
experience.
After
the
waning
of
the
Würzburg
School
in
Germany,
we
find
the
development
of
different
kinds
of
holistic
vocabularies
in
Berlin
and
Leipzig.
In
Berlin,
Gestaltstheorie
developed
a
phenomenological
‘form’
vocabulary,
while
in
Leipzig
Ganzheitspsychologie
advanced
a
more
metaphorical
language.
These
are
differences
between
both
their
theoretical
and
methodological
orientations.
The
Gestalt
psychologists
used
physics
as
their
source
of
inspiration,
while
Ganzheit
psychologists
borrowed
more
heavily
from
aesthetics
(see
Wagoner,
2011,
for
a
review).
Both
schools
varied
some
external
stimuli
against
which
a
research
participant’s
experience
was
understood
as
in
Wundt’s
laboratory.
However,
unlike
Wundt’s
laboratory
experience
was
described
in
terms
of
wholes.
For
example,
by
varying
the
speed
in
which
two
points
appear
Wertheimer
demonstrated
the
phi-‐phenomenon,
whereby
we
perceive
the
stationary
points
as
moving.
Ganzheit
psychologists
presented
stimuli
in
suboptimal
conditions
(e.g.,
at
a
distance,
very
small,
for
a
fraction
of
a
second,
or
at
the
periphery
of
ones
vision)
and
improved
those
conditions,
capturing
participants’
experience
at
each
step.
They
showed
how
perception
went
beyond
the
information
given,
anticipating
future
forms.
Let
us
consider
a
study
done
by
Heinz
Werner,
who
was
trained
at
Leipzig.
Werner
used
a
tachistoscope
to
flash
phrases
in
front
of
participants
at
short
intervals.
Participants
had
to
report
what
they
saw
and
their
accompanying
thoughts
and
feelings
at
each
stimulus
exposure.
The
language
they
could
use
was
quite
open
but
referred
directly
to
the
stimulus
presented
to
them.
Consider
the
following
example
of
a
participant
who
read
the
tachistoscopically
presented
phrase
“sanfter
Wind
”
(gentle
wind):
Through
this
series
we
can
make
inferences
about
the
relationship
between
fully
articulated
meanings
of
words
(on
the
left
in
quotation
marks)
and
“spherical
cognition”
(on
the
right).
What
Werner
attempted
to
capture
with
this
method
was
exactly
the
kind
of
experience
that
eluded
precise
description—i.e.,
the
feel
of
the
word.
His
participant
describes
it
through
metaphors
(e.g.,
“heavy”
and
“warm”)
and
diffuse
semantic
fields
(e.g.,
adjective-‐of-‐direction).
Latter
Werner
and
in
collaboration
with
Bernie
Kaplan
developed
a
method
whereby
participants
expressed
their
experience
in
a
non-‐verbal
medium
(i.e.,
a
line
language)
to
explore
non-‐propositional
aspects
of
language
(Werner
and
Kaplan,
1963)
and
to
help
participant’s
articulate
their
emotions
(Kaplan,
1955).
James
and
Bergson
had
much
earlier
made
arguments
for
the
use
of
metaphorical
expressions
to
describe
one’s
experience,
though
both
thinkers
utilized
a
non-‐experimental
method
of
self-‐observation.
According
to
them
ordinary
language
misleads
us
into
turning
processes
into
static
things.
Bergson
(1903)
even
elevated
his
experiential
approach
to
“metaphysics”
as
such.
Through
the
‘intuitive’
grasp
of
ones
own
consciousness
one
came
into
contact
with
the
“absolute”.
In
order
to
express
this,
however,
one
had
to
use
symbols,
which
could
only
“approximate”
what
was
apprehended
through
intuition.
Bergson’s
strategy
was
to
deploy
a
number
of
different
metaphors
to
describe
consciousness,
always
pointing
out
how
they
ultimately
failed
to
capture
the
whole.
Yet,
they
functioned
well
to
sensitize
to
certain
aspects
of
our
intuitively
apprehended
experience.
Like
Bergson,
James
marveled
in
the
amorphous
whole
of
the
mind
and
called
on
thinkers
to
develop
rich
metaphors
that
might
capture
some
aspect
of
it.
From
James
(1890)
we
have
such
poetic
expressions
for
experience
as
“the
streaming
of
consciousness”,
“the
buzzing
blooming
confusion”
and
“the
fringe
of
consciousness”,
which
the
Würzburgers
saw
as
being
akin
to
their
own
term
Bsl.
Though
it
is
difficult
to
pinpoint
what
exactly
James’
terms
refer
to,
they
are
highly
suggestive
and
have
inspired
generations
of
psychologists
and
even
stimulated
popular
culture
(with,
e.g.,
the
development
of
the
stream
of
consciousness
novel).
They
are
open
descriptive
concepts
that
allow
us
to
holistically
express
our
experience
as
well
as
guide
us
in
its
investigation.
Self-Observation
as
a
Social
Process
From
the
above
brief
review,
we
see
that
there
is
an
intimate
relationship
between
language
and
the
character
attributed
to
experience.
I
am
not
1.
“—?
Wind.”
What
stood
before
“wind”
feels
like
an
adjective
specifying
something
similar.
Definitely
not
a
word
defining
direction.
2.
“—ter
Wind.”
Know
now
that
the
word
is
“heavier”
than
“warm”…
somehow
more
abstract.
3.
“—cher
Wind.”
Now
it
looks
more
like
an
adjective-‐of-‐direction.
4.
“—ter
Wind.”
Now
again
somehow
more
concrete,
it
faces
me
and
looks
somewhat
like
“weicher
Wind”
(soft
Wind),
but
“ter”
is
in
my
way.
5.
Now
very
clearly:
“sanfter
Wind.”
Not
at
all
surprised.
I
had
this
actually
before
in
the
characteristic
feel
of
the
word
and
the
looks
of
it.
(Werner,
1956,
p.
348)
suggesting
that
language
determines
experience,
but
rather
that
there
is
complex
dialectic
between
the
two.
Poets
and
artists
as
well
as
psychologists
and
philosophers
have
provided
us
with
insightful
and
novel
means
of
not
only
expressing,
but
also,
more
importantly,
observing
our
own
experience.
This
would
not
be
possible
if
experience
was
a
purely
individual
and
private
matter.
Instead,
we
live
in
an
intersubjectively
shared
and
immanently
meaningful
world.
Humans
exist
as
beings
in
constant
communication
with
others,
through
which
we
come
to
develop
shared
perspectives
on
our
experience.
This
is
precisely
why
works
of
art
and
literature
are
often
so
illuminating;
they
teach
us
both
about
the
particularities
of
our
own
life
and
about
aspects
of
the
human
condition
in
general,
which
we
do
not
usually
see
simply
because
we
are
too
close
to
them
in
our
everyday
lives.
In
this
section,
we
will
consider
what
is
involved
in
this
symbolization
of
experience
and
how
it
feeds
forward
into
future
experiencing.
My
starting
point
for
this
theoretical
discussion
is
the
functionalist
perspective
of
the
American
pragmatists,
whose
ideas
were
later
developed
by
a
number
of
innovative
psychologists.
The
American
pragmatists
put
forward
one
of
the
most
powerful
critiques
of
the
traditional
conceptualization
of
self-‐observation,
especially
Dewey
and
Mead.
Their
critique
has
been
generally
missed
as
a
result
of
psychology’s
history
myth,
whereby
the
discipline
has
progressed
in
dialectical
fashion
from
the
‘introspectionists’
to
‘the
behaviorists’
and
finally
to
their
synthesis
in
‘cognitive
psychology’
(Costall,
2006).
One
of
the
many
things
wrong
with
this
story
is
that
Watson’s
(1913)
rather
uninteresting
arguments
are
given
central
place
in
the
advancement
of
psychology,
when
in
fact
more
developed
critiques
of
self-‐observation
were
made
long
before
him.
For
example,
Mead
(1910)
argued
that
‘Other
selves
in
a
social
environment
logically
antedate
the
consciousness
of
self
which
introspection
analyzes’
(p.
179).
In
other
words,
the
act
of
self-‐reflection
presupposes
social
interaction
with
others.
The
introspection
involves
the
incorporation
of
the
other
into
the
self.
This
conceptual
move
naturalizes
the
act
of
self-‐reflection
by
showing
that
it
is
an
outgrowth
of
a
social
process.
One’s
own
gesture
does
not
initially
have
meaning
for
oneself.
A
dog
that
shows
its
teeth
or
a
cat
the
purrs
is
expressing
an
emotion
but
it
is
not
aware
of
the
meaning
their
gesture.
The
gesture
only
has
meaning
for
others,
which
is
their
response
to
the
gesture—e.g.
to
fight
or
run.
The
establishment
of
shared
meaning
requires
the
existence
of
stable
social
institutions
with
interchangeable
social
positions
(such
as
buying
or
selling,
talking
and
listening).
Because
a
vocal
gesture
can
be
heard
from
both
sides
of
a
social
act
in
a
social
practice
it
takes
on
a
dual
meaning
and
enables
the
movement
from
one
social
perspective
to
another.
I
am
other
from
the
perspective
of
another
person’s
perspective.
Thus,
by
taking
the
social
position
of
the
other,
through
the
vocal
gesture
inside
the
social
act,
I
can
become
other
to
myself
(Mead,
1934).
In
short,
introspective
self-‐reflection
is
only
possible
through
a
history
of
interaction
with
others
in
social
institutions.
In
Mead’s
(1910,
p.
179)
own
words,
Consciousness
could
no
longer
be
approached
as
an
island
[…]
It
would
be
approached
as
experience
which
is
socially
as
well
as
physically
determined.
Introspective
self-‐consciousness
would
be
recognized
as
a
subjective
phase,
and
this
subjective
phase
could
no
longer
be
regarded
as
the
source
out
of
which
the
experience
arose.
Objective
consciousness
of
selves
must
precede
subjective
consciousness,
and
must
continually
condition
it,
if
consciousness
of
meaning
itself
presupposes
the
selves
as
there
[…]
When
in
the
process
revealed
by
introspection
we
reach
the
concept
of
self,
we
have
attained
an
attitude
which
we
assume
not
toward
our
inner
feelings,
but
toward
other
individuals
whose
reality
was
implied
even
in
the
inhibitions
and
reorganizations
which
characterize
this
inner
consciousness.
Introspective
self-‐consciousness
is
derivative
of
consciousness
of
others
and
not
vice-‐versa.
Internal
thought
here
is
a
form
of
inner
dramatization
of
social
conduct
and
is
thus
necessarily
bound
up
with
social
meanings.
So
far
the
conditions
and
character
of
the
inner
directed
phase
of
self-‐ observation
have
been
described.
Let
us
at
this
point
consider
the
outer
directed
communication
phase,
whereby
experience
becomes
the
data
of
scientific
analysis.
Firstly,
it
should
be
made
clear
that
though
communication
of
ones
experience
has
typically
been
done
through
the
verbal
medium
in
psychology,
we
can
take
‘language’
in
a
broader
sense
as
any
means
of
establishing
intersubjectivity,
and
may
include,
e.g.
‘gesture
languages’,
‘picture
languages’
and
‘line-‐languages’.
For
something
to
count
language
there
must
a
differentiation
between
the
perspectives
of
an
addresser
and
addressee
as
well
as
between
the
object
and
symbolic
vehicle
used
to
refer
to
it
(Werner
and
Kaplan,
1963).
There
is
a
direct
link
to
Mead’s
(1934)
approach,
in
which
language
brings
together
two
perspectives
(i.e.,
addresser
and
addressee)
taking
place
within
a
social
act.
Objects
in
Mead’s
approach
are
also
referred
to
through
some
material
medium
(e.g.,
the
vocal
gesture),
and
thus
out
of
this
interaction
distinctly
social
objects
may
emerge,
e.g.,
property.
The
opposing
pairs
addressee-‐addresser
and
object-‐symbolic
vehicle
can
be
more
or
less
distanced
from
one
another.
For
example,
communication
between
two
people
with
a
long
history
together
has
a
very
different
form
to
one
between
strangers.
In
the
former
case,
much
can
be
taken
for
granted
while
the
latter
relies
more
on
widely
shared
conventions
of
communication.
In
communicating
we
always
attune
to
the
perspective
of
our
interlocutor
(of
course,
with
varying
degrees
of
success).
As
a
thought
experiment,
it
is
interesting
to
think
of
what
the
introspection
reports
would
have
looked
like
if
the
observer
was
from
one
school
of
psychology
(e.g.,
Würzburg)
and
the
experimenter
another
(e.g.,
Leipzig).
How
would
these
inter-‐institutional
dynamics
affect
the
data
generated
there?
The
inner
directed
phase
of
self-‐observation
involves
reflecting
on
oneself
through
the
perspective
of
others
and
a
social
institution
more
generally,
while
the
outer
directed
phase
involves
transforming
that
experience
into
a
symbolic
form
understandable
within
institutional
constraints
of
communication.
These
two
phases
are
mutually
in
feeding.
The
symbolic
products
of
an
introspective
report
can
be
used
as
orienting
devices
in
the
act
of
observing
one’s
own
experience
and
what
is
there
observed
can
find
its
way
back
into
reports
in
one
expression
or
another.
We
saw
above
how
quickly
the
ambiguous
concept
Bsl
quickly
became
ubiquitous
in
introspective
reports;
however,
the
concept
evolved
during
the
history
of
the
Würzburg
School,
which
suggests
that
the
concept
was
a
constraint
but
not
a
determinant
of
experience.
It
would
be
interesting
to
explore
how
reporting
experience
(in
say
one
medium,
such
as
drawing
versus
verbal)
affected
what
was
reported
in
future
trails.
In
one
experiment
on
imagination,
Bartlett
(1932)
presented
participants
with
a
series
of
inkblots
and
asked
them
to
provide
a
description
of
each.
He
reports
a
“persistence
of
attitude”
in
participants’
interpretations
–
for
example,
one
participant
sees
“ghosts”;
“more
ghosts
kissing”;
“more
kissing”;
“green
ghosts”
(Bartlett,
1916,
p.
255).
Thus,
what
is
reported
in
the
first
instance
becomes
a
constraint
on
what
is
observed
thereafter.
Experience
comes
into
being
and
is
formed
through
some
material
medium.
Thus,
the
strict
separation
between
inner
and
outer
is
unjustified.
The
boundary
between
the
two
is
mutable.
At
times
observation
of
ones
experience
and
communicate
of
it
may
even
coincide,
as
when
we
think
aloud.
Ericsson
and
Simon
(1993)
have
done
a
number
of
ingenious
studies
on
expertise,
in
which
they
simply
have
participants
say
aloud
what
they
normal
say
silently
to
themselves.
With
this
method
they
can
show,
for
example,
the
strategies
waiters
use
to
organize
their
memory
for
orders.
In
the
next
section,
I
will
explore
how
we
can
transform
rating
scales
into
a
method
sensitive
to
the
above
outlined
social
dynamics
of
self-‐observation.
Rethinking
Ratings
Scales:
Triggering
a
Process
of
Sense
Making
Rating
scales
are
one
of
the
most
widely
used
research
methods
in
contemporary
psychology.
They
provide
a
quick
means
of
obtaining
large
quantities
of
data
that
can
then
be
interpreted
through
a
statistical
analysis.
This
data,
however,
is
much
more
problematic
than
researchers
are
typically
willing
to
recognize.
For
rating
scales
to
be
valid,
we
must
assume
that
in
making
a
mark
on
a
scale
we
are
immediately,
unitarily,
and
accurately
accessing
our
mental
states,
and
that
these
states
are
inherently
quantifiable—all
very
controversial
assumptions
(Wagoner
and
Valsiner,
2005;
see
also
below).
Simply
labeling
them
‘self-‐report’
methods
rather
than
‘self-‐observation’
or
‘introspective’
methods
or
attending
to
quantitative
outcomes
overcome
of
these
process
does
not
overcome
the
difficulties
involved
in
the
practice
of
self-‐observation,
though
it
might
obscure
them
in
the
eyes
of
the
research
community.
One
could
without
too
much
difficulty
argue
that
contemporary
versions
of
self-‐observation,
such
as
rating
scales,
are
in
fact
much
more
primitive
than
those
practiced
in
the
first
decades
of
the
20th
century:
By
using
naïve
observers,
who
have
only
a
minimal
social
relation
to
the
experimenter,
and
by
only
attending
to
static
outcomes
the
data
generated
by
rating
scales,
the
data
produced
is
much
more
ambiguous
than
in
early
introspective
methods.
In
this
section,
I
will
draw
on
a
study
I
conducted
with
Jaan
Valsiner
(Wagoner
and
Valsiner,
2005)
to
disambiguate
rating
scale
data
by
focusing
on
the
process
by
which
the
data
is
produced
rather
than
the
quantitative
outcome
of
this
process.
Rating
scales
normally
encourage
research
participants
to
speed
up
the
process
of
rating
with
endless
pages
of
a
boring
questionnaire,
which
participants
try
to
get
through
as
quickly
as
possible.
Our
method,
by
contrast,
was
a
process-‐oriented
approach.
To
observe
it
we
slowed
down
the
process
of
rating
and
focused
our
analysis
on
the
dynamics
therein.
In
our
study
observers
were
presented
with
a
picture
of
an
attractive
member
of
the
opposite
sex,
which
they
were
to
rate
on
multiple
dimensions
–e.g.,
attractiveness,
approachable,
likeable,
etc.
In
the
questionnaire,
participants
were
first
to
make
their
rating
and
then
immediately
explain
how
they
arrived
at
the
mark
in
a
space
provided
directly
below
the
scale.
Thus,
the
research
strategy
was
similar
to
that
of
the
Würzburg
School.
Consider
the
following
female’s
rating
for
“approachable”
(ibid,
p.
203)
–
the
arrows
and
divisions
are
made
by
the
researchers
to
help
the
reader
attend
to
certain
aspects
of
the
participant’s
text:
Approachable
Not
at
all
|-‐-‐-‐-‐-‐-‐-‐-‐-‐|-‐-‐-‐-‐-‐-‐-‐-‐-‐X-‐-‐-‐-‐-‐-‐-‐-‐-‐|-‐-‐-‐-‐-‐-‐-‐-‐-‐|
Very
much
←←←←←<Object>→→→→→
In
the
inquiry
into
the
subject’s
rationale
of
putting
the
marker
in
the
middle,
we
get:
“Personally
approaching
guys
especially
nice
looking
guys
is
not
a
common
practice
so
I
wouldn’t
deem
him
all
that
approachable…
…but
he
would
probably
be
used
to
girls
approaching
him…
…so
it
evens
out.”
We
see
that
making
a
rating
does
not
involve
an
immediate
or
unitary
access
to
some
internal
mental
state.
Instead,
an
elaborated
process
of
sense
making
is
involved.
The
participant
relates
to
the
object
of
rating
(i.e.
the
picture
of
a
man)
through
the
linguistic
category
of
‘approachable’.
The
category
does
not
directly
map
onto
some
hypothetical
internal
state,
but
is
rather
an
internally
negotiated
intersubjective
relation.
In
other
words,
‘approachable’
can
only
be
made
sense
of
in
a
co-‐inhabited
and
immanently
meaningful
world.
Although
the
subject
is
engaged
in
what
might
be
called
an
‘internal’
process,
the
process
itself
involves
imagining
public
scenarios
that
would
count
as
‘approachable’
within
ordinary
language.
In
so
doing,
she
identifies
two
rather
different
and
opposing
scenarios:
in
the
first,
she
imagines
herself
approaching
a
nice
looking
guy,
while
the
second
is
a
more
abstract
use
of
‘approachable’
as
a
category
to
describe
the
man
on
his
own
terms,
taking
herself
out
of
the
picture.
Both
meanings
of
‘approachable’
are
grammatically
correct
(to
use
Wittgenstein’s
phrase)
in
ordinary
language.
This
ambiguity
in
the
meaning
of
‘approachable’
as
this
participant
relates
to
the
picture
generates
a
dialogical
tension
(represented
by
the
<object>
with
arrows
to
the
left
and
right
of
it),
which
traditional
rating
scales
that
only
look
at
the
quantitative
outcome
would
be
entirely
blind
to.
They
would
assume
a
rating
in
the
middle
of
the
scale
is
the
outcome
of
a
neutral
response.
However,
here
we
see
that
in
fact
it
represents
two
forces
pulling
in
opposite
directions.
It
is
the
interplay
between
these
two
parts
(phases)
that
produces
the
“3”,
rather
than
a
single
state.
In
focusing
on
the
process
of
constructing
an
intersubjectively
meaningful
rating
over
the
outcome
we
come
to
see
that
a
multiplicity
of
meanings
and
forces
are
at
work
for
a
single
unitary
rating.
In
short,
by
slowing
down
the
process
and
by
building
in
space
for
meaningful
elaboration
in
order
to
access
these
constructive
dynamics
of
rating,
we
see
that
there
is
much
more
to
rating
than
is
normally
assumed.
Let
us
take
another
example
to
further
illustrate
this
point:
Courteous
Not
at
all
|-‐-‐-‐-‐-‐-‐-‐-‐-‐|-‐-‐-‐-‐-‐-‐-‐-‐-‐|-‐-‐-‐-‐X-‐-‐-‐-‐|-‐-‐-‐-‐-‐-‐-‐-‐-‐|
Very
much
←←←←<Object>→→→→→
In
the
inquiry
into
the
subject’s
rationale
of
putting
the
mark
just
right
of
the
middle,
we
get:
“I
can
see
this
guy
holding
doors
for
the
ladies
and
buying
flowers
for
his
girl,
etc.
which
is
courteous/nice…
…but
I
can
see
him
having
multiple
girls.”
Again,
there
is
striving
to
situate
the
category
and
object
of
rating
to
intersubjectively
meaningful
world,
leading
the
subject
to
imagine
two
opposing
scenarios,
both
of
which
are
grammatically
correct
uses
of
‘courteous’.
As
above,
the
switch
of
perspectives
is
easily
identifiable
with
the
use
of
the
word
‘but’.
Interestingly,
although
the
two
uses
of
‘courteous’
are
conflicting
when
viewed
from
a
meta-‐level
(as
we
force
participants
to
do
with
the
rating
task),
they
co-‐ exist
without
confusion
in
everyday
life,
and
as
we
see
here
they
can
easily
flow
into
each
other
in
thought.
Of
course,
the
researcher
can
try
to
fixate
language
but
he
or
she
cannot
fix
observers’
sense
making.
Rigorously
designed
rating
scales
will
include
a
test
phase
to
minimize
the
problem
of
the
openness
of
word
meaning,
rewording
their
questions
accordingly.
However,
language
is
inherently
open
and
ambiguous.
Words
do
not
fit
things
in
a
one-‐to-‐one
relation.
Therefore,
researcher’s
efforts
to
fix
the
meaning
of
words
and
their
relation
to
judgments
can
only
ever
by
partial.
Instead
of
hiding
these
complexities
behind
quantitative
scores
and
aggregate
statistics,
methods
of
self-‐observation
need
to
bring
them
to
the
fore
if
they
are
to
count
as
rigorous
scientific
methods.
Otherwise,
the
meaning
of
the
numbers
on
a
scale
will
remain
entirely
obscure.
Moreover,
ignoring
the
question
of
participants’
meaning
allows
researchers
to
talk
as
if
a
certain
experimental
manipulation
caused
participants
to
think
in
a
certain
way
(as
indicated
by
a
rating
scale
score).
The
above
examples
illustrate
that
participants
enter
a
space
of
reasons
or
norms
when
they
fill
out
a
rating
scale.
Thus,
the
category
of
cause
is
inappropriate
here;
instead,
participants
negotiate
meaning.
As
such
we
need
to
adopt
a
discourse
of
mediation
in
the
place
of
causality
(see
e.g.,
Moghaddam,
2006).
Conclusion
In
this
chapter,
I
have
argued
that
the
practice
of
self-‐observation
should
be
developed
along
functionalist
lines
of
thought
rather
than
in
dualistic
terms.
Using
early
debates
about
in
self-‐observation
as
our
case
study,
we
saw
that
the
data
produced
was
intertwined
with
the
institutions
(with
their
varied
practices,
social
roles
and
languages)
within
which
it
occurs.
An
expression
of
experience
is
a
social
relation
because
1)
it
is
made
possible
by
being
a
co-‐inhabitant
of
an
inter-‐subjectively
shared
world
and
2)
it
carries
with
it
the
potential
to
attune
others
to
some
aspect
of
human
experience.
In
the
remaining
space,
I
will
sum
up
some
of
the
key
take-‐away
points
of
this
chapter:
1) One
gets
different
results
on
the
two-‐point
test
depending
on
the
degree
of
permissiveness
in
language
used
to
report
the
scores
and
more
broadly
the
institution
in
which
the
reporting
occurs.
Thus,
there
were
differing
results
between
laboratories
in
Leipzig,
Paris
and
Torres
Straight.
2) Open
descriptive
concepts
(such
as
Bsl
or
the
‘stream
of
consciousness’)
can
be
generative
of
productive
new
research
directions.
This
points
to
the
fact
that
psychological
concepts
are
not
natural
kinds
but
rather
human
kinds,
which
once
created
feedback
into
social
practices
and
experience.
3) Debates
over
self-‐observation
turned
into
discussions
about
the
appropriate
scientific
language
to
express
experience—either
sensationist
or
holistic
language.
The
former
is
restrictive
but
relatively
clear,
while
the
latter
opens
up
psychology
to
new
dimensions
of
mind
but
is
at
the
same
time
more
ambiguous.
4) Self-‐observation
is
not
a
purely
individual
act.
Instead,
it
presupposes
interaction
with
others
in
stable
social
institutions.
The
inner
phase
of
self-‐observation
involves
taking
the
perspective
of
others
toward
ones
self.
The
outer
directed
phase
requires
expressing
that
experience
in
publically
accessible
symbol.
Both
phases
are
social—thus
they
are
not
as
separate
as
they
might
first
appear
and
may
even
coincide
using
methods
like
the
‘think-‐aloud
protocol’.
5) Traditional
rating
scales
can
be
transformed
into
instruments
for
capturing
the
dynamics
of
meaning
making.
From
the
examples
given
here
we
see
that
making
a
rating
involves
thinking
of
public
scenarios
in
which
to
ground
the
rating.
Thus,
rather
than
providing
access
to
some
unitary
mental
state,
ratings
are
make
like
creative
self-‐dialogues
taking
place
within
an
inter-‐subjectively
shared
and
imminently
meaningful
world.
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