BF Skinner’s Daughter is Alive and Well
Posted Jul 17, 2007 10 comments
When I read that B.F. Skinner's daughter committed suicide, it sounded logical. I found numerous accounts of how B.F. Skinner raised his daughter in a box, using "operant conditioning" -- and she grew up with severe psychological disturbances, ultimately killing herself.
However, this morning I went to get some documentation about the fate of Skinner's daughter, and I found out I have decieved a number of people in the past few years. I apologize to everyone who heard me repeat this anaecdote -- it's a complete fake.
B.F. Skinner is relevant to our work here at Skilluminati Research, so it'll be worth establishing some context. Skinner was a behavioralist, which puts him right in the center of our main line of inquiry into systems of social control. Although I take issue with a great many of Skinner's theories and conclusions, I don't think he was a stupid man. Much like Timothy Leary or Buckminster Fuller, most of what people "know" about B.F. Skinner is mere soundbites. His actual work is fascinating and largely distorted, or just plain unknown. I would urge anyone anxious to write off B.F. Skinner as a monster or fascist to actually read his work and wrestle with the ideas and the data he presents.
If you're totally unfamiliar, start here.
Having never spoken to her, I have no way of knowing the motivations of Lauren Slater, author of Opening Skinner's Box. It's safe to assume she is, at the very least, a lazy and sloppy researcher. Perhaps it's important to note that she herself claims to write "creative non-fiction" (apparently a euphemism for "lying"), but it's not my intent to do an armchair analysis of the woman. Let's just focus on what she wrote:
[B.F. Skinner] used his infant daughter, Deborah, to prove his theories by putting her for a few hours a day in a laboratory box in which all her needs were controlled and shaped. He kept her caged for two full years, placing within her cramped square space bells and food trays and all manners of mean punishments and bright rewards, and he tracked her progress on a grid. And then, when she was thirty-one and frankly psychotic, she sued him for abuse in a genuine court of law, lost the case, and shot herself in a bowling alley in Billings, Montana. Boom-boom went the gun.
As it turns out, this passage was more "creative" than "non-fiction."
Let's turn the microphone over to Deborah Skinner Buzan, who is still alive today, married in London. She wrote an extended letter to the UK paper The Guardian which was published on March 12, 2004:
Slater's sensationalist book rehashes some of the old stuff, but offers some rumours that are entirely new to me. For my first two years, she reports, my father kept me in a cramped square cage that was equipped with bells and food trays, and arranged for experiments that delivered rewards and punishments. Then there's the story that after my father "let me out", I became psychotic. Well, I didn't. That I sued him in a court of law is also untrue. And, contrary to hearsay, I didn't shoot myself in a bowling alley in Billings, Montana. I have never even been to Billings, Montana.
Laura Slater has said little in her own defense, which is probably understandable. What could she possibly say?
The Cognitive Dissonance
At this point, you might find yourself in the same position I was: confused. I'd seen photographic proof that Skinner had put his daughter into a conditioning "box" -- but this is worth examining in some detail, because it provides a great illustration of cognitive bias. By observing how my brain malfunctioned, hopefully you can learn something about yours.
Let's be specific and clear: had I seen "photographic proof"? Negative. What I'd seen was a photograph, depicting B.F. Skinner and a woman looking down at a child, who was placed inside what appeared to be a large white box with an open door. It's important to remember that a photograph is just a photograph -- don't trust the caption unless you can verify the information. It's reasonable to assume that, having both "BF Skinner" and a child in a box sharing the same frame, the photograph depicts a "Skinner box" -- the experimental construct that Skinner used to train animals using "operant conditioning." However, this is not the case.
The box in the photo is called a Baby Tender -- and it's another invention of Skinner's, "an easily-cleaned, temperature and humidity-controlled box Skinner designed to assist in the raising of babies." This is a strange place to arrive at -- and I would certainly understand if the reader feels I'm making a dishonest argument. After all, the child in the photo was in fact his daughter, and the box the child sits inside was in fact built by him -- so, doesn't that mean it's a photo of B.F. Skinner's daughter in a Skinner Box?
I still say no. A "Skinner Box," after all, is not a term defined as "any box which was built by B.F. Skinner." It was a specific term used to describe the apparatus he used to test and train animals. Skinner himself described the Baby Tender, and as you can see for yourself, the comfort of the infant, not behavioral conditioning, was the aim of the device:
When we decided to have another child, my wife and I felt that it was time to apply a little labor-saving invention and design to the problems of the nursery. We began by going over the disheartening schedule of the young mother, step by step. We asked only one question: Is this practice important for the physical and psychological health of the baby? When it was not, we marked it for elimination. Then the "gadgeteering" began.
The result was an inexpensive apparatus in which our baby daughter has now been living for eleven months. Her remarkable good health and happiness and my wife’s welcome leisure have exceeded our most optimistic predictions, and we are convinced that a new deal for both mother and baby is at hand.
Why not, we thought, dispense with clothing altogether — except for the diaper, which serves another purpose — and warm the space in which the baby lives? This should be a simple technical problem in the modern home. Our solution is a closed compartment about as spacious as a standard crib . The walls are well insulated, and one side, which can be raised like a window, is a large pane of safety glass. The heating is electrical, and special precautions have been taken to insure accurate control.
After a little experimentation we found that our baby, when first home from the hospital, was completely comfortable and relaxed without benefit of clothing at about 86°F. As she grew older, it was possible to lower the temperature by easy stages. Now, at eleven months, we are operating at about 78°F, with a relative humidity of 50 per cent.
Deborah explains her own experience of "The Box":
I was very happy, too, though I must report at this stage that I remember nothing of those first two and a half years. I am told that I never once objected to being put back inside. I had a clear view through the glass front and, instead of being semi-swaddled and covered with blankets, I luxuriated semi-naked in warm, humidified air. The air was filtered but not germ-free, and when the glass front was lowered into place, the noise from me and from my parents and sister was dampened, not silenced.
The effect on me? Who knows? I was a remarkably healthy child, and after the first few months of life only cried when injured or inoculated. I didn't have a cold until I was six. I've enjoyed good health since then, too, though that may be my genes. Frankly, I'm surprised the contraption never took off. A few aircribs were built during the late 50s and 60s, and somebody also produced plans for DIY versions, but the traditional cot was always going to be a smaller and cheaper option. My sister used one for her two daughters, as did hundreds of other couples, mostly with some connection to psychology.
What a sick, inhuman monster, huh? What kind of heartless beast spends that much time on making his own child comfortable and healthy?
B.F. Skinner, in a hilarious twist of cosmic irony, is an irreducibly complex human organism. It's easy -- and cheap -- to repeat rumors and lies about his personal life in an effort to discredit the man's work. Believe me, if you want to discredit B.F. Skinner, there is an over-abundance of material for you in his actual published work. More importantly, you will be a smarter person for having read Walden Two. I personally think the book is a sick nightmare, but it's also very persuasive and intelligently argued stuff -- if you haven't thought about the questions B.F. Skinner raises, you're frankly in no position to judge him in the first place.
STEP YOUR GAME UP, HUMANS.
Filed in: Social Control
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