Frames – Culture, Cognition, and Action (culturecog)

Internalization and Knowledge What

As discussed in a previous post, the sociological discussion of internalization has been traditionally dominated by an emphasis on processes in which other people, via the mediation of artifacts, serve as the primary conduits via which cultural-cognitive kinds are internalized. In that respect, sociologists do not seem to make too much of an effort to differentiate internalization, or the acquisition of cultural kinds from interaction and experience in the world, from the more specific idea of socialization, or the acquisition of cultural kinds from the concerted efforts of other people (the “agents” of socialization) to try to transmit or teach them to us in some way (Berger and Luckmann 1966; Parsons 1952).

Equating internalization and socialization works well for the cultural-cognitive kinds considered in the previous discussion; in the case of beliefs and skills, internalization necessarily involves interaction with artifacts created by other people (beliefs conveyed via oral or written communications), interaction with people when they produce “live” version of such artifacts in the form of spoken words (or other overt symbols), and even the direct manipulation of the body of apprentices on the part of teachers (Downey 2014).

Interestingly, the case of belief and the case of skill are prototypical versions of two types of knowledge usually contrasted in social and cognitive science, following a classic distinction proposed by the philosopher Gilbert Ryle (2002). In Ryle’s rendering, propositional beliefs rendered as sentences in a natural language are a clear case of “knowledge that,” while skills, hard or impossible to verbalize or put in propositional form, are the prototypical case “knowledge how.” For instance, we would say, of a person who holds this belief, they think that immigrants are good for America and, of a person who commands this skill, they know how to dance Capoeira.

However, more extensive consideration of a lot of the internalized knowledge held by people reveals the existence of a large swath of internalized culture that does not quite fit the neat division between explicit propositional beliefs and skills (in terms of the nature of the kind of involved) nor does it fit the usual origin story we tell of such kinds in terms of their provenance in teachers, socialization agents, role models and the like. Take, for instance, cultural knowledge about such entities as cats, computers, houses, or camping trips. These are the cultural cognitive kinds psychologists refer to as concepts (Barsalou 1992; Machery 2009; Prinz 2004).

Concepts clearly count as a form of internalized culture but it is unlikely any socialization agents set out (or spent much effort) to teach you cats have fur, computers run on electricity, or camping trips happen in the summer and the same for the myriad of concepts you have internalized. Instead, this is knowledge that you likely “picked up,” just by living in a world containing cats, computers, and camping trips. In fact, the reason why people don’t need teachers and socialization agents to internalize that cats and birds are alive but a rock is not, is that this knowledge is taken to be so obvious that it, in the words of anthropologist Maurice Bloch (1998:22ff), it “goes without saying”; accordingly, no socialization agent would expend effort transmitting this knowledge since they presume people will pick it up on their own (saving their energies for things that are not that obvious). This means that a lot of internalized culture does not come about via any “socialization” process at least as this is traditionally conceived (Bloch 1998:23ff; Bourdieu 1990); this, in particular, seems to apply to conceptual knowledge as an internalized cultural kind.

In contrast to most propositional beliefs attaching normative, conventional, or arbitrary predicates to entities (e.g., such as “good for America” to “immigrants”), it is a necessary condition that the world is the way it is for people to internalize a lot of the conceptual knowledge they have. For instance, if you were to take a magical time machine and go back to the fourteenth century armed with your current (explicit) conceptual knowledge of what computers are and do and tried to convey it to medieval denizens by talking to them, it is likely that you would fail to transmit the concept of a computer to your interlocutors (although you might be able to transmit a number of fantastical beliefs about the mysterious entity you are calling a “computer”).

In this last respect, all of your “socialization” efforts would be for naught, because in order to internalize workable conceptual knowledge about a thing, you need to interact (directly or indirectly) with the thing the concept is about; in addition, you need to have workable conceptual knowledge about a number of other domains related to the thing (e.g., electricity and machinery in the case of computers) and about the likely situations and contexts in which the thing is likely to be found (e.g., offices) (Yeh and Barsalou 2006).

This is different from belief acquisition. For instance, I (a socialization agent) can stipulate the existence of a substance called “dilithium” and transmit to you the belief “dilithium can power a starship.” You do not need to have a working concept of dilithium, beyond the most general one (e..g, dilithium is a kind of substance), in order for you to acquire beliefs about dilithium (although you will have to have some conceptual knowledge, however vague, indirect, and metaphorically structured, about what “powering up” a technological artifact is, and what a “starship” is).

Enculturation versus Socialization

The above discussion suggests that concepts are a theoretically important cultural-cognitive kind, distinct from explicit beliefs and non-conceptual skills, that can help broaden and enrich our understanding of the different ways cognitive-cultural kinds can come to be internalized by people. This is for (at least) two main reasons.

First, the existence and pervasiveness of concepts as internalized cultural-cognitive kinds license the distinction between socialization and enculturation as routes to the internalization of cultural kinds. Most sociologists are like Zerubavel in the birthday party example offered in the previous post and use the terms interchangeably, talking about “socialized or acculturated” people. We are now in a position to make a more principled distinction. Socialization is the internalization of cultural-cognitive kinds, such as beliefs and skills, from interaction with agents who intend for us to learn explicit beliefs via direct or indirect (e.g., put them in the world in artifactual form for us to find) symbolic interaction or apprenticeship relations in which such agents coordinate, supervise, and ensure the acquisition of particular skills (e.g., walking, writing, riding a bike).

Enculturation, on the other hand, is a more general idea, referring to all forms of internalization of cultural kinds, even in cases where no explicit teachers or communicators (either human or artifactual) are involved. In contrast to socialization, where we can reconstruct a direct or indirect communicative or transmissive intention on the part of a socialization agent and directed to a socialization target (which, when successful results in internalization), with enculturation, we encounter the, initially puzzling case, of cultural internalization that seems to work by “osmosis.”

Most conceptual knowledge is not acquired via socialization; instead, the bulk of conceptual knowledge is acquired via enculturation: Non-directive processes of experience with and exposure to (solitary or with others, direct or mediated) to exemplars of the physical, artifactual, biological, or social kind in question. For instance, a lot of the conceptual knowledge about the properties of objects residing in the “middle-sized” world of cats, dogs, rocks, tomatoes, magnets, and computers (e.g., not electron, quarks, and supernovas) is acquired via enculturation (not socialization), although knowledge about implicit aspects of some of those objects, if it exists, is usually acquired via socialization (we can go to engineering school and figure how computers work from a teacher or a book). Contextual or variable knowledge about practices regarding such objects (e.g., that in this house cats stay outside) is clearly acquired by socialization, while knowledge that cats eat food, like to sleep, and can move on their own without having to be pushed around by a person (Mandler 1988), is acquired mainly via enculturation.

While a lot of (lexical) linguistic knowledge (e.g., mapping of word labels to objects) is acquired via socialization, it is important to underscore that conceptual knowledge (e.g., that cats have tails and dogs bark) is distinct from the knowledge of how to map lexical labels to objects in a natural language (Tomasello 2005). Children begin to acquire conceptual knowledge about a lot of categories before they learn the mapping between lexical items and members of that category in their native language (Bloch 1991). In the same way, grammatical linguistic knowledge is acquired via enculturation (Tomasello 2005), although a second-order version of it is re-acquired in school via socialization.

Knowledge What

Second, concepts as cultural-cognitive kinds do not quite fit Ryle’s “knowledge-that” and “knowledge-how” binary mentioned earlier. As already noted, we can have “knowledge-that” beliefs about things we have no (or very faint) concepts of (like dilithium). In addition, the hallmark of procedural knowledge (e.g., knowledge of how to ride a bike) is precisely that it is non-conceptual (Dreyfus 2005). You do not need the conceptual knowledge about bikes (e.g., that they are typically made out of metal) in order to learn how to ride one. In fact, you could theoretically lose the conceptual knowledge (e.g., via some traumatic brain injury causing selective amnesia) while retaining the practical expertise.

In this last respect, the existence of conceptual knowledge as internalized cultural-cognitive kinds, distinct from propositional and procedural knowledge, points to the possibility that Ryle’s classic distinction of know-how/know-that does not provide an exhaustive taxonomy of internalized cultural kinds, as has been presumed in previous work (Lizardo 2017). What is missing is what philosophers Peter Gardenfors and Andreas Stephens (2018; see also Stephens 2019) have recently referred to as knowledge-what; general (impersonal) knowledge about the expected properties and features of objects and events in the world. Knowledge-what is equivalent to what other theorists refer to as “conceptual knowledge” or knowledge stored in the “human conceptual system” (Barsalou 2003; Barsalou et al. 2003).

In terms of the contemporary theory of memory systems, if knowledge-how is associated with non-declarative procedural memory and knowledge-that with declarative episodic memory, then knowledge-what encompasses both non-declarative and declarative aspects of semantic memory (Stephens 2019). Accordingly, if knowledge-how is composed of the sum total of cultural-cognitive kinds internalized as skills, and knowledge-that is that composed of cultural-cognitive kinds internalized as (explicit) beliefs (and other declarative “propositional attitudes” about the world (Schwitzgebel 2013)), then knowledge-what is primarily stored in the form of concepts (although we do not need to settle on any one particular theory about the format in which concepts are stored in long term memory).

What makes conceptual knowledge distinctive from non-conceptual (procedural) or strictly propositional knowledge is the fact that it allows us to categorize, make inferences (e.g., derive new knowledge from old knowledge), and thus make reliable inductions about the properties and characteristics of the physical, biological, and social kinds that fall under the concept (Gärdenfors and Stephens 2018). In this respect, concepts stored in semantic memory seem to have both procedural (they allow us to do things) and declarative components (Parthemore 2011; Stephens 2019). Thus, if we know that an event is a “birthday party” (as with the Zerubavel example above), we can reliably guess (and expect) that cake will be served. If we know something is a cat, then we can reliably guess (and expect) that it likes to sleep, eat food, and it’s not ten feet tall.

In this last respect, it seems like Zerubavel was talking about enculturation (as an example of internalization), not socialization, if only because it would be odd to find socializing agents expending much effort “teaching” people that cakes are eaten at birthday parties; instead, parents bring out the cake since even before kids can talk (or show them picture books with birthday parties featuring cake), so by the time they can talk they expect to see cakes at birthday parties. In this respect, the presence of cake is part of the (Euro-American) concept of a birthday party (and is not a propositional belief about birthday parties although it may be that too), and people learn it via an enculturation process (although a late newcomer from a society in which something else was served on this occasion would probably have to learn it via socialization).

There are of course systematic relations between both enculturation and socialization processes, and knowledge-that and knowledge-what as internalized cultural kinds. People become encultured (exposed to a multimodal ensemble featuring people, activities, and objects in a situational context) at the same time that they are socialized; so these internalization processes are not mutually exclusive. However, since enculturation is the more general form of internalization, it follows that, even though all socialization entails enculturation, a lot of enculturation takes place absent the concerted effort or explicit attempts at teaching coming from socialization agents (Bloch 1998; Bourdieu 1990; Strauss and Quinn 1997). Just by acting pragmatically (alone or in concert with others) in a world populated by physical, biological, artifactual, and social kinds people will come to internalize a large swath of (some easy some hard or impossible to explicitly articulate) conceptual knowledge-what about those kinds.

In this last respect, it is likely that one reason why the distinction between knowledge-that and knowledge-what has not been sharply made in cultural theory has to do with the “linguistic fallacy” (Bloch 1998:23ff); this is the idea that, just because we can paraphrase conceptual knowledge using linguistic propositions (e.g., we can say that cats have tails) in belief-like form, it follows that conceptual knowledge consists of just such a collection of know-that sentences and propositions (e.g., “beliefs about” the kind the concept refers to (Bloch 1991; Strauss and Quinn 1997:51)). However, despite their many differences (Machery 2009), no contemporary theory of concepts taken as a serious contender in cognitive psychology sees them exclusively represented as a collection of sentence-like structures (although some armchair philosophical theories, such as Jerry Fodor’s “language of thought” hypothesis do).

A well-known problem with the proposal that conceptual knowledge-what can be reduced or paraphrased as a lot of “knowledge-that” statements is what the philosopher Daniel Dennett (2006) once referred to as the “frame problem.” This is the idea that the number of explicit beliefs we would have to impute to a person to try to summarize their storehouse of (multimodal, cross-contextual) conceptual knowledge what of even the simplest of “basic level” objects such as a chair is virtually infinite, exploding exponentially once we realize how much “implicit beliefs” people seem to have about the category (e.g., we would have to presume that people “know that” chairs are not made out of cheese, did not exist in the Pleistocene, do not explode five minutes after someone sits on them, are not secretly laughing behind our backs, and so on.)

Partly motivated by this (and other issues; see Prinz (2004) and Barsalou (1992)), some of the more promising accounts of concepts as internalized cultural (and cognitive) kinds, abandon lingua-form representation altogether, suggesting that conceptual knowledge consists of simulations stored in the same modality-specific format as the perceptions we have of the (physical, biological, social, etc.) kinds represented by the concept (Barsalou 1999; Clark 1997; Prinz 2004). This account is consistent with observations about cultural internalization made by ethnographers. As Bloch (1998: 25) notes, “[a]ctors’ concepts of society are represented not as strings of terms and propositions, but as governed by lived-in models, that is, models based as much in experience, practice, sight, and sensation as in language” (see also Shore (1996); Bourdieu (1990) and Strauss and Quinn (1997)); propositional beliefs that are a cultural kind distinct from concepts of. In this respect, concepts as a cultural cognitive kind, acquired via enculturation processes may represent a much more crucial aspect of people’s everyday knowledge of the world than propositional beliefs “about” the world.

One upshot of the above discussion is that we do not need three separate internalization stories for the three (broad) forms of internalized knowledge (that, how, and what). Instead, enculturation, or, the emergence of personal culture via pragmatic and bodily interaction in the world, serves as a general template, with concept acquisition being the most general form of this process, and skill acquisition and belief formation serving as special-purpose stories featuring artifact-mediated interactions with the world, typically involving other people as intentional drivers of the internalization process (“socialization”). In this respect, all cultural-cognitive kinds (e.g., concepts, skills, beliefs, etc.) are constructed and internalized via people’s activity-driven experience in the world, only a subset of which involve interaction with artifactual cultural kinds. Some cultural-cognitive kinds (e.g., concepts for animals and objects) can emerge from people’s direct interactions with other biological and physical kinds, while others (beliefs about the benefits to America that come from immigration) from people’s interactions with artifactual kinds produced by others with the intent to transmit them to us.

References

Barsalou, L. (2003). Situated simulation in the human conceptual system. Language and Cognitive Processes, 18(5-6), 513–562.

Barsalou, L. W. (1992). Frames, concepts, and conceptual fields. Lawrence Erlbaum Associates, Inc.

Barsalou, L. W. (1999). Perceptual Symbol Systems. Behavioral and Brain Sciences, 22(4), 577–609.

Barsalou, L. W., Kyle Simmons, W., Barbey, A. K., & Wilson, C. D. (2003). Grounding conceptual knowledge in modality-specific systems. Trends in Cognitive Sciences, 7(2), 84–91.

Berger, P. L., & Luckmann, T. (1966). The Social Construction of Reality: A Treatise in the Sociology of Knowledge. Doubleday.

Bloch, M. (1991). Language, Anthropology and Cognitive Science. Man, 26(2), 183–198.

Bloch, M. E. F. (1998). How we think they think: Anthropological approaches to cognition, memory, and literacy. Westview Press.

Bourdieu, P. (1990). The logic of practice. Stanford University Press.

Clark, A. (1997). Being There: Putting Brain, Body, and World Together Again. MIT Press.

Downey, G. (2014). “Habitus in Extremis”: From Embodied Culture to Bio-Cultural Development. Body & Society. http://bod.sagepub.com/content/20/2/113.short

Dreyfus, H. L. (2005). Overcoming the Myth of the Mental: How Philosophers Can Profit from the Phenomenology of Everyday Expertise. Proceedings and Addresses of the American Philosophical Association, 79(2), 47–65.

Gärdenfors, P., & Stephens, A. (2018). Induction and knowledge-what. European Journal for Philosophy of Science, 8(3), 471–491.

Lizardo, O. (2017). Improving Cultural Analysis: Considering Personal Culture in its Declarative and Nondeclarative Modes. American Sociological Review, 82(1), 88–115.

Machery, E. (2009). Doing without Concepts. Oxford University Press.

Mandler, J. M. (1988). How to build a baby: On the development of an accessible representational system. Cognitive Development, 3(2), 113–136.

Parsons, T. (1952). The superego and the theory of social systems. Psychiatry, 15(1), 15–25.

Parthemore, J. E. (2011). Concepts enacted: confronting the obstacles and paradoxes inherent in pursuing a scientific understanding of the building blocks of human thought [Doctoral, University of Sussex]. http://sro.sussex.ac.uk/id/eprint/6954

Prinz, J. J. (2004). Furnishing the Mind: Concepts and Their Perceptual Basis. MIT Press.

Ryle, G. (2002). [1949], The Concept of Mind. Chicago: The University of Chicago Press,. With an lntroduction by Daniel C. Dennett.

Schwitzgebel, E. (2013). A Dispositional Approach to Attitudes: Thinking Outside of the Belief Box. In N. Nottelmann (Ed.), New Essays on Belief: Constitution, Content and Structure (pp. 75–99). Palgrave Macmillan UK.

Stephens, A. (2019). Three levels of naturalistic knowledge. In M. Kaipainen, F. Zenker, A. Hautamäki, & P. Gärdenfors (Eds.), Conceptual Spaces: Elaborations and Applications (pp. 59–75). Springer.

Strauss, C., & Quinn, N. (1997). A cognitive theory of cultural meaning (Vol. 9). Cambridge University Press.

Tomasello, M. (2005). Constructing a Language. Harvard University Press.

Yeh, W., & Barsalou, L. W. (2006). The situated nature of concepts. The American Journal of Psychology, 119(3), 349–384

Identifying Cultural Variation in Thinking

What does it mean to identify cultural variation in thought? Sociologists routinely identify differences in the way people think or reason about things (e.g., Young 2004), but what does it mean to think differently, and how are differences identified? In this post, I introduce a way of thinking about this question that moves beyond traditional “frame-like” concepts.

The Frame Approach to Thinking about Thinking

Frame-like concepts are often used to denote different ways of thinking, referring to monolithic cognitive objects— “mental fences” (Zerubavel 1997:37)—which “filter” (Small 2004:70) cognition by “[highlighting] certain facts while [excluding] others (Fligstein, Brundage, and Schultz 2017:881).” Frame-like concepts are treated both as durable ways of thinking (Zerubavel 1997) and situationally-variable frames of thought (Goffman 1974), but in either case, they are generally interpreted as mutually exclusive categories, with only one active at any given time.

Frame-like concepts are intuitive but also bring important challenges and limitations. First, frame-like concepts denote differences in thought without explaining what it means to think differently. Frame theory is not so much a theory of how people think as much as an assertion that people think differently. Because of this, frame analysis often lies on shaky ground empirically, with analysts intuiting differences without objective criteria. Person A is said to think about Y using a different frame than Person B because the analyst intuits that their thinking is different. This sounds bad, but is it really? How hard can it be to evaluate differences in thought?

Suppose that we asked two professors for their thoughts about a certain graduate student. The first says “she’s turning out lots of ideas,” and the second says “she’s had a mental breakdown.” These statements are obviously different, yet they are nonetheless instantiations of the same conceptual metaphor—THE MIND IS A MACHINE—identified by Lakoff and Johnson (1999:247). Statements which appear different, even opposite, on the surface may actually be evidence of identical thinking.

And yet, those teachers’ statements are different, which leads to a second major limitation of frame-like concepts—the assumption of monolithicity. Frame-like concepts treat thinking as a unitary process which either is or isn’t the same across persons. More accurately, thinking is a complex cascade of neural activations, such that thinking could be both similar and different across persons, in different ways. For example, persons with different positions on a moral issue and different vocabularies of justification may nonetheless share certain “background” assumptions about the meaning of morality (Abend 2014).

Regarding frame-like concepts, Turner (2018:33–34) notes:

Cognitive science exposes the inadequacy of many of the clichéd extensions of common sense talk about mind used in social theory and elsewhere, notably notions that are useful for interpretation, such as “frame” ideas. Either these can be given an interpretation in terms of actual cognitive mechanisms or they need to be discarded and replaced.

In the next section, I outline an alternative approach for analyzing variation in thought that begins by considering the different cognitive associations responsible for producing observed responses. The primary advantage of this approach is it allows for sameness and difference to coexist in different forms and at different degrees of schematicity. In this way, differences are not established with all-or-nothing catch-all codes like “frames,” but located to particular associations which may have their own distinct causal histories. More generally, this entails rethinking thought as the activation of cascades of associations rather than single “frames.”

Beyond Frames

Moving beyond frame analysis requires a different theory of thinking. When researchers ask participants to perform some cognitive task, they are directing participants to create a response, rather than requesting the delivery of fully-formed ideas:

Our data don’t tell us about the static organization of others’ minds—they tell us about a potentiality that others have that can be used to accomplish certain tasks in certain environments. But that’s fine, since that’s what a mind is—it’s a set of potentialities, and not a cluster of statements, and our questions are tasks that can, if properly designed, evoke these potentials… People don’t necessarily have ready-made opinions. Instead, they often have an inchoate mass of ideas; the question you ask creates a task that requires the respondent to marshal her faculties and thoughts (Martin 2017:78).

These tasks may be understood as evoking bundles of associations. Some associations belong to the general task itself (such as categorization), and others belong to the domain in question (such as “sexuality”). The analytic approach I propose consists of identifying these different associations and observing the similarity or difference for each. Here I identify three kinds of associations common to interviewing tasks—schemas associated with the general task, objects associated with the domain, and object qualities associated with the domain—and discuss each. I use Brekhus’s (1996) findings on sexual identity as a case study.

Brekhus (1996) finds that Americans mark sexual identity along six dimensions: (1) quantity of sex, (2) timing of sex, (3) level of perceived enjoyment, (4) degree of consent, (5) orientation, and (6) the social value of the agents. Brekhus (1997) is primarily interested in identifying general dimensions of sexual identity and understanding the process by which these are constructed, but suppose we are interested in variation in thinking about sexual identities? To this end, we can identify the different kinds of associations activated when marking sexual identities.

Brekhus’s six dimensions of sexual identity are specific combinations of schemas, objects, and object qualities. Each of these three things may vary independently of the others, though they may be associated to a certain extent.

1. Schemas associated with the task

Marking sexual identity is a common kind of task, in that all marking entails assigning an object to a category. In terms of cognitive linguistics, this involves the activation of the CONTAINER image schema (Boot and Pecher 2011). Whether we are talking about identities, classification (Bowker and Star 2000), or boundaries (Lamont and Molnár 2002), we are referring to the same general schematic process—putting things in containers. At this level, we would expect no variation.

The task of marking sexual identity (and classification more generally) may simply involve putting someone within a container (e.g. “gay”), but it may also involve putting someone on a SCALE (Johnson 1987:122). For example, Brekhus notes that sexual identities are marked by quantity, degree of consent, level of perceived enjoyment, the timing of sex, and social value of the agents. Each of these is an instantiation of the SCALE schema. Thus, we may observe variation in the marking of sexual identity based on differences in the schema associated with the task. This variation is not the result of possessing or lacking SCALE and CONTAINER schemas, which are universal but result from a habitual association between a schema and the thing being marked (Casasanto 2017).

2. Objects associated with the domain

Brekhus’s (1996) dimensions of sexuality focus on three kinds of objects: the agent (e.g. their age, history, and social value), the agent’s partner (e.g. their gender relative to the agent), and the interactions between them (e.g. the duration of their relationship and degree of consent). Marking sexual identity may vary in by focusing on one or more of these objects rather than the other, but for this domain, these are the primary objects. If we were talking about some other domain of identity, the associated objects might be different.

3. Object qualities associated with the domain

Brekhus’s (1996) dimensions of sexual identity are based on specific qualities of the different associated objects. For example, an agent’s identity is marked based on how much they enjoy sex, or how much sex they’ve had. There is more room for variation here, and we can imagine even other potential object-qualities. For example, sexual identity could be marked based on the LOCATION of sex, whether it happens in the bedroom, or in a public space (e.g. “exhibitionist”). LOCATION, in this case, is a quality of the people engaging in sexual acts (“a person in this kind of space”).

Additionally, we can imagine new object-qualities by applying the SCALE schema in new places. For example, Brekhus discusses orientation in terms of CONTAINERS—what kind of person or thing you are attracted to—but orientation can also be marked in terms of quantity—how many kinds of persons are you attracted to? (e.g. pansexual). Similarly, sexual identity could be marked not only by the kind of partner in the relationship but the number of partners in the relationship (e.g. polyamorous).

Concluding Remarks

Taken together, this short exercise suggests the following:

Thinking tasks, like marking identities, activate multiple kinds of associations which may be analyzed as distinct processes working together.
Similarity and difference in thinking may occur in different ways (e.g. at the level of schemas, objects, and object qualities).
Similarity and difference may coexist. Responses that appear different may nonetheless be manifestations of the same basic structure (e.g. all instantiated by the same schemas and focusing on the same objects).
Cognitive difference may be established either by introducing new associations from other domains or recombining associations in new or different ways.

In addition to pinpointing where there is more or less similarity in thought, analyzing thinking in this way opens new questions for analysis. For example, If certain schemas are dominant for a certain task, why, and to what extent does this vary across persons? Why are certain schemas, such as SCALE, more commonly associated with certain objects over others? How does a person’s individual experience influence which bundles of associations are activated when ascribing sexual identities? The takeaway is that thinking does not happen via filtering frames, but the activation of multiple associations working together, and that by recognizing this fact and incorporating it into the analysis, we get a better understanding of culture and thinking and are better prepared to think about how thinking varies across persons, times, and situations.

References

Abend, Gabriel. 2014. The Moral Background: An Inquiry into the History of Business Ethics. Princeton University Press.

Boot, Inge and Diane Pecher. 2011. “Representation of Categories: Metaphorical Use of the Container Schema.” Experimental Psychology 58(2):162.

Bowker, Geoffrey C. and Susan Leigh Star. 2000. Sorting Things Out: Classification and Its Consequences. MIT Press.

Brekhus, Wayne. 1996. “Social Marking and the Mental Coloring of Identity: Sexual Identity Construction and Maintenance in the United States.” Sociological Forum 11(3):497–522.

Casasanto, Daniel. 2017. “The Hierarchical Structure of Mental Metaphors.” Metaphor: Embodied Cognition and Discourse 46–61.

Fligstein, Neil, Jonah Stuart Brundage, and Michael Schultz. 2017. “Seeing Like the Fed: Culture, Cognition, and Framing in the Failure to Anticipate the Financial Crisis of 2008.” American Sociological Review 82(5):879–909.

Goffman, Erving. 1974. Frame Analysis: An Essay on the Organization of Experience. Harvard University Press.

Johnson, Mark. 1987. The Body in the Mind: The Bodily Basis of Meaning, Imagination, and Reason. University of Chicago Press.

Lakoff, George and Mark Johnson. 1999. Philosophy In The Flesh. Basic Books.

Lamont, Michèle and Virág Molnár. 2002. “The Study of Boundaries in the Social Sciences.” Annual Review of Sociology 28(1):167–95.

Martin, John Levi. 2017. Thinking Through Methods: A Social Science Primer. University of Chicago Press.

Small, Mario Luis. 2004. Villa Victoria: The Transformation of Social Capital in a Boston Barrio. University of Chicago Press.

Young, Alford. 2004. “The Minds of Marginalized Black Men: Making Sense of Mobility.” Opportunity and Future Life Chances 23.

Zerubavel, Eviatar. 1997. “Social Mindscapes: An Introduction to Cognitive Sociology.” Cambrdge, MA. : Harvard University Press. 連結.

The Evocation Model of Framing

In a forthcoming article, my coauthors and I outline what we call an “evocation model” of framing by which a frame, understood as a situated assemblage of material objects and settings (i.e., a form of public culture), activates schemas, understood as flexible, multimodal memory structures (i.e., a form of personal culture), evoking embodied responses (Wood et al. 2018). In this post, I will discuss several empirical examples from conceptual metaphor research that are consistent with our model and which expand it in promising ways.

Conceptual Metaphor Theory

Conceptual Metaphor Theory (CMT) asserts that much of our reasoning about abstract concepts is based on analogical mapping, whereby some more familiar source is used to understand and make inferences about some less familiar target. For example, Lakoff (2008:383) argues that people typically understand anger metaphorically as a hot fluid in a container. Following this metaphorical mapping, the body is understood as a container for emotions, emotions are understood as substances, and anger itself is understood as heated substance. This metaphorical mapping is manifest linguistically in phrases such as “you got my blood boiling,” “she was fuming,” and “he’s really steamed up.” It is also often manifest visually in similar ways. Consider, for example, the depiction of anger in the movie, Inside Out: Anger is red, boxlike, and at times, literally exploding with fire. This particular conceptual metaphor is extremely common across different cultures (Talebi-Dastenaei 2015).

via GIPHY

Metaphors and Schemas

The mapping of a source onto a target in CMT may be also described as the activation of a particular schema in relation to a task. In some cases, such as describing the experience of anger, there is one dominant schematic network guiding meaning construction. In other cases, there are multiple accessible schemas–multiple sources–which could easily be activated for a specified task. In our paper, we argue that framing is the process by which a frame (understood as an assemblage of material objects that may include anything tactile such as text, sounds, visible objects, smells, etc.) activates schemas, and this activation evokes a particular response. A quickly-expanding field of experimental research on CMT supports this model.

Schematic Activation and Reasoning about Crime

Thibodeau and Boroditsky (2011) find that activating particular schemas over others when describing a social problem affects the kinds of solutions people propose to address the problem. In one experiment they told two groups of participants about increasing crime rates in the fictional city of Addison, gave relevant statistics, and asked for possible solutions. They described crime in Addison metaphorically as a beast preying on the city to the first group, and as a virus infecting the city to the second group. Remarkably, despite having the same crime statistics, individuals in the different groups clustered around different solutions: “When crime was framed metaphorically as a virus, participants proposed investigating the root causes and treating the problem by enacting social reform to inoculate the community, with emphasis on eradicating poverty and improving education. When crime was framed metaphorically as a beast, participants proposed catching and jailing criminals and enacting harsher enforcement laws.” Additionally, Thibodeau and Boroditsky found that participants were unaware of the role of the metaphorical framing on their own thinking–both groups believed their solutions were rooted solely in the available data–suggesting that the framing effect was covert.

These findings suggest that when multiple schemas may be fittingly activated to support reasoning, the schema that is activated may in large part determine the result people come to. Recent sociological work on schematic understandings of poverty reaches a similar conclusion (Homan, Valentino, and Weed 2017).

Schematic Activation and Creative Thinking

In some cases, schematic activation influences cognitive performance more than predisposing someone to one outcome over another. For example, Leung et al. (2012) identify several metaphors which express creative thinking–considering a problem “on one hand, and then the other,” “thinking outside the box,” and “putting two and two together”–and ask whether physically embodying these metaphors actually makes people more creative. In a series of studies, Leung et al. have participants perform different tasks measuring convergent thinking (“the search for the best answer or the most creative solution to a problem”) or divergent thinking (“the generation of many ideas about and alternative solutions to a problem”) while being in either a controlled or experimental condition. Participants in the experimental condition for the “thinking on one hand, and then the other” metaphor were asked to generate ideas for using a campus building while physically holding out one hand and pointing to a wall, then switching hands and pointing to the other wall and generate more ideas. Leung et al. found that participants in the experimental condition generated more ideas (evidence of higher divergent thinking) than those in the control conditions.

To test the “thinking outside the box” metaphor, participants were assigned to perform a convergent thinking task in one of three conditions: sitting inside a 5×5 foot box constructed with pvc pipe and cardboard, sitting outside the 5×5 foot box, or sitting in a room without a box present. Leung et. al found that participants in the outside-the-box condition generated more correct answers than either two conditions–literally thinking outside the box seems to have helped them think outside the box metaphorically. In a related study, they had other participants perform a divergent thinking task while either walking freely, walking in a fixed, rectangular path, or not walking at all. Here they found that participants who walked freely generated more new ideas.

Together, these findings highlight the subtle influence of one’s environment on cognitive performance. While framing in sociology is typically understood as influencing what people think, it may be beneficial to also consider how certain frames facilitate or inhibit particular cognitive tasks.

Schematic Matching and Evaluating Drug Effectiveness

Keefer et al (2014) demonstrate an extension of our framework with their theory of “metaphoric fit.” The authors argue that when people evaluate the effectiveness of an abstract solution to an abstract problem, people are more likely to positively evaluate the effectiveness of the solution if the problem and the solution are understood via the same metaphors (i.e. the same schemas are activated in relation to both). They test this specifically with a series of experiments about a fictional drug proposed to treat depression. In one experiment, they described to participants the drug “Liftix” (the solution) with vertical metaphors: (e.g., “has been shown to lift mood”; “patients everywhere have reported feeling uplifted”). Two groups were given this same description of Liftix, but each group received a different description of depression (the problem). In one condition, participants were given a description of depression that activated the same verticality schema: “(“Depressed individuals feel that while other people’s lives have both ups and downs, their life has considerably more downs”). In the other condition, depression was described more literally: (“Depressed individuals feel that while other people’s lives have both positive and negative periods, their life has considerably more negative periods”). Both groups then rated how effective they thought Liftix would be. Participants in the metaphor-matching condition were more likely to give Liftix a higher rating. The authors replicated the experiment by activating LIGHT/DARK rather than UP/DOWN and found the same results. They also replicated the experiment by activating these schemas visually rather than linguistically, and again saw the same outcomes.

This study suggests that the evocation of a particular response may not be the result of activating a particular schema alone, but the interrelations of activated schemas. As such, it offers an intriguing expansion to our model and suggests that a more relational schematic analysis may sometimes be necessary.

Conclusion

A growing body of experimental research supports the core of our evocation model of framing. In various ways, the physical environment may be manipulated to activate particular schemas or combinations of schemas, and this activation evokes particular responses. In some cases, this activation may affect what people think, and in other cases, how well they think.

Although each of the studies I cited here is experimental, I note that the analysis of schemas, frames, and framing need not be limited to experiments. For example, a researcher might wish to know the variety of ways people schematically understand a concept before constructing an experiment, as Homan et al. (2017) do in their study of poverty. Alternatively, a researcher may lean on established experimental results to make inferences about the consequences of observed frames “in the wild.” Beyond this, research may focus also on the development and diffusion of particular models of frames, as we discuss in the forthcoming paper. The bottom line is that experimental work has been helpful for giving empirical support for the basic theoretical framework, but researchers should consider experimental research as just one piece of a larger puzzle.