© 2004-2021 Mark L. Mitchell & Janina M. Jolley. All rights reserved.
Why do many psychologists prefer
theory to common sense? As you can see from Table T-1, there are at least eight
reasons why scientists prefer theory to common sense.
First,
theories tend to be more internally consistent than common sense. That is, a
theory usually doesn’t contradict itself. Common sense, on the other
hand, often contradicts itself (“absence makes the heart grow
fonder,” but “out of sight, out of mind”). Researchers find
it easier to make clear, consistent predictions from a consistent theory rather
than from inconsistent common sense.
Second, theories tend
to be more consistent with existing facts than common sense. Often, theories
are constructed by systematically collecting data and carefully analyzing the
data for patterns. But even when facts do not play a dominant role in giving
birth to a theory, facts will usually shape the theory’s development.
Generally, if deductions from a theory are incorrect, the theory will be
changed or abandoned. Thus, unlike common sense, theories do not ignore facts.
Consequently, a hypothesis based on an established theory is a more educated
guess and should have a greater chance of being correct than one based on
common sense.
Third,
theories are not restricted to making commonsense or intuitively obvious
predictions. Theories can make predictions that are counter-intuitive. For
example, social learning theory predicts that rewarding a child for a behavior
could make the child like doing the behavior less (because the child may decide
that he or she does the behavior because of the reward, rather than because the
child likes it). Because theories are not limited to making predictions that
are consistent with common sense, a theory may suggest controversial, new ways
of viewing the world. For instance, Darwin’s theory on evolution had us
look at apes as relatives, Einstein’s theory of relativity had us look at
matter and energy as being the same thing, Freud’s theory had us look at
ourselves as being motivated by forces of which we weren’t aware, and
Watson’s theory had us look at ourselves as a set of reflexes.
Fourth,
theories summarize and organize a great deal of information. Just as the plot
of a movie may connect thousands of otherwise unrelated images, theories
connect individual facts and give them meaning. That is, theories try to
explain facts. The ability of theories to connect facts means that theory-based
research will not produce isolated bits of trivia. Instead, the findings will
fit into a framework that connects many other studies. In other words, the
facts revealed by theory-based research are not merely of interest for their
own sake, but also for how they relate to the theory’s explanation of how
the world works. For example, consider the following fact: around age 7,
children stop believing in Santa Claus. In its own right, this is a relatively
trivial fact. However, when put in the context of Piaget’s theory, which
states that around age 7, children are able to think logically about concrete
events (and thus realize that Santa Claus can’t be everywhere at once and
can’t carry that many toys), the finding has deeper significance.
Fifth,
in addition to giving individual facts a meaningful context, theories focus
research. Because many researchers try to test theories, findings from
theory-based research are not only relevant to the theory’s explanation
of events, but also to the findings of other researchers. Because progress in
science comes from researchers building on each other’s work, the importance
of a theory’s ability to coordinate individual scientists’ efforts
should not be underestimated.
Sixth,
theories are often broad in scope. Because theories can be applied to a wide
range of situations, researchers can generate a wide variety of studies from a
single theory. For example, social learning theory can be applied to prisons,
businesses, advertising, politics, schizophrenics, smokers, librarians, mad
dogs, and Englishmen. Similarly, Freud’s theory of the unconscious can be
applied to virtually any situation.
Seventh,
theories try to explain the facts with only a few core ideas. That is, they
tend to be parsimonious: explaining a broad range of phenomena with a few
principles. The value of parsimony is evident when you consider that a major
function of science is to simplify our world. The parsimonious theory provides
a few simple rules that summarize hundreds of observations. These general rules
making existing knowledge easier to understand, remember, and use. Therefore,
scientists prefer theories with a few far-reaching principles to theories that
require a different principle to explain each new phenomenon. Thus, it should
be no surprise that two theories that have enjoyed great
popularity--evolutionary theory and social learning theory--possess only a few,
broad-ranging principles.
Finally,
theories are often more testable than common sense. That is, by talking about
variables that can be objectively measured and by making specific predictions,
a good theory is easy to test.
Despite their similarities, all
theories are not equally good. Some are more parsimonious than others, some are
broader than others, some are more logically consistent than others, some make
more interesting predictions than others, and some are more consistent with the
facts than others. However, if you are trying to develop a research hypothesis,
the most important difference between theories is that some theories are more
testable--and thus more useful--than others. Therefore, when choosing a theory,
make sure that it is testable.
To
be testable, a theory must:
1. make predictions rather than
rely entirely on after-the-fact explanations;
2. predict one outcome rather than
several contradictory outcomes;
3. make a specific prediction,
rather than an extremely vague one; and
4. make a prediction that can be
verified through objective observation.
To be testable, a theory must tell you
about events that have not yet been observed. Unfortunately, not all theories
make such predictions. Instead, some, such as McDougall’s (1908) instinct
theory, only explain what happened after the fact. For example, after a woman
picked apples from her orchard, McDougall might say, “she picked apples
because the instinct to pick apples from an orchard was activated.”
However,
McDougall’s theory could not
make before-the-fact predictions because his theory didn’t tell us when
to expect instincts to be aroused or how to tell whether someone would inherit
a high level of an instinct.
To be testable, a theory must be capable
of making one and only one prediction about what would happen in a certain
situation. To illustrate the problem of making more than one prediction,
consider Freudian theory. According to Freudian theory, receiving a severe
beating from one’s father could result in any of the following outcomes:
1. no apparent effect (we try not
to think about it: repression or
suppression);
2. deep anger and resentment at
people similar to our father
(displacement);
3. great love for our father
(reaction formation); or
4. hate for ourselves
(internalization).
Given all these predictions, it is
hard to imagine an outcome that would not agree with one of them. Freudian
theory would be more testable if it made one prediction.
Almost as useless as
making many predictions about what would happen in a certain situation is
making one extremely vague prediction. Some theories purport to make
predictions about the future, but these predictions are so vague that they are
untestable. An extremely vague prediction may remind us of the fortune cookies
that read, “You will make a decision soon.”
Precision is the reason
we often like to see quantitative statements in theories. For instance, the
statement, “People taking drug A will remember twice as much as those not
taking A,” is more precise than the statement, “People taking drug
A will remember more than those not taking A.”
Even if a theory makes specific,
unambiguous predictions about the future, these predictions must involve
publicly observable events--if the theory is to be testable. That is, for the
relevant variables, we must be able to provide operational definitions:
publicly observable sets of procedures (operations) to manipulate or measure
variables.
To illustrate the
importance of operational definitions, consider the statement: “When you
die, you will go to heaven.” Although this is a prediction about future
events, it cannot be scientifically tested because we cannot find any publicly
observable, physical evidence that would help us determine whether a person has
gone to heaven. Since religion makes such metaphysical (beyond the physical
world) statements, science and religion usually do not mix. Analogously, a few
scientists have argued that science and psychoanalysis do not mix because we
cannot observe the unconscious. Such is the fate of theories whose variables
cannot be operationalized.
We should caution,
however, that not all variables in a theory must be directly observable. Many
theories discuss hypothetical constructs: entities that we cannot, with our
present technology, observe directly. Gravity, electrons, love, learning, and
memory are all hypothetical constructs because they are invisible. Although
hypothetical constructs can’t be seen, we may be able to infer their
presence from their traces or impact. With enough indirect, physical evidence,
scientists can make a very convincing case for the existence of an invisible
entity (a hypothetical construct). Thus, although no one has ever seen a quark,
physicists have demonstrated that quarks exist.
In psychology, the
challenge has not been to see inside the atom, but to see inside the head. Like
quarks, mental states cannot be directly observed. For example, we cannot
directly observe learning. However, we can see its effect on performance. That
is, we can operationally define learning as an increase in performance. Thus,
if we see someone improve their performance after practicing a task, we would
conclude that learning has occurred. Similarly, we can provide operational
definitions for such intangible hypothetical constructs as hunger, thirst,
mood, love, etc.
You now know how to
judge whether a theory can help you generate research ideas. But where do you
find theories?
To find a useful theory, start by
reading textbook summaries of theories. Reading a textbook summary should at
least acquaint you with some of the theory’s propositions (to go beyond
your text's brief explanation of dissonance theory, you can go to
the article that
launched dissonance theory ,or, to get an online summary of the theory's
relevance to modern life, try this
link or this
one) . Although these
summaries will allow you to select a theory, do not rely exclusively on
textbook summaries--such summaries may oversimplify the theory. Thus, the
researcher who relies exclusively on textbook summaries may be accused of
ignoring key propositions of the theory or of using a straw theory: an
exaggerated, oversimplified caricature of the theory. Therefore, in addition to
reading textbook summaries, you should also see how other researchers have
summarized the theory. To find these summaries, consult journal articles that
describe studies based on the theory (e.g., “Elation and Depression: A
test of opponent process theory”). Usually, the beginnings of these articles include
a brief description of the theory that the study tests.
Once you have selected
a theory, read the original statement of the theory (the citation will be in
the texts or articles that you read). Then, to keep up-to-date about changes in
the theory, use Psychological Abstracts to find books and review articles
devoted to the theory (see Appendix B).
Once you understand the
theory, your task is to apply your powers of deduction. You have these powers
or you wouldn’t have passed high school geometry and you wouldn’t
be able to write an essay. In fact, much of your everyday thinking involves
deductive logic. For example, you may say, “The important thing about a
college education is to learn how to think. This assignment doesn’t help
me learn how to think. Therefore, this assignment is not important to my
college education.” If your premises were sound, your statement would be
an example of sound, deductive logic.
In deducing hypotheses
from theory, you will use the same deductive logic illustrated above. That is,
you will apply a general rule to a specific instance. The only difference is
that the general rule comes from a theory instead of from the top of your head.
To reassure yourself that you can apply deductive reasoning to propositions
that were made up by someone else, try this deductive reasoning test:
1. All people treated like b turn
out c.
2. Person a is being treated like
b.
3. Person a will turn out
___________.
1. All behavior can be changed by
controlling its consequences.
2. Al’s behavior is bad.
3. Al’s bad behavior can be
changed by ___________.
As this
“test” illustrates, if you know the premises and set them up
correctly, deductive logic can be as simple as 1-2-3. Thus, because you know
common sense’s premises, you probably had no problem deducing research
ideas from common sense. Consequently, once you know what a theory’s
premises are, your problem will not be how to think deductively, but what to
think about. In the next few pages, we will give you some strategies that will
help you focus your deductive reasoning.
Contrary to common
stereotypes about theories, theories can be applied to practical situations. As
Kurt Lewin said, “there is nothing so practical as a good theory.”
For example, social learning theory has been used to cure shyness, promote
energy conservation, address speech problems, reduce violence, and improve
studying behavior.
To take a closer look
at how theory can help you attack a practical problem, consider cognitive
dissonance theory (Festinger, 1957). According to cognitive dissonance theory,
if a person holds two thoughts that he considers inconsistent, he will
experience dissonance (see Table T-2). Since dissonance is unpleasant, the
person will try to reduce it, much as the person would try to reduce hunger,
thirst, or anxiety (Aronson, 1990).
Let’s see how
dissonance theory was used to get people to conserve energy. After being told
they would get their names in the paper if they conserved energy, people cut
back on their energy use. Then, dissonance was induced by telling them that
their names would not be printed. This created dissonance between two
inconsistent ideas: (1) I do things for a reason, and (2) I went without air
conditioning for no reason. Participants resolved the dissonance by cutting
energy use even more! That is, they decided: (1) I do things for a reason, and
(2) I went without air conditioning because I believe in energy conservation
(Pallak, Cook, & Sullivan, 1980). Similarly, Stone, Aronson, Crain,
Winslow, and Fried (1994) applied dissonance theory to getting people to engage
in safe sex. Specifically, they created dissonance by (1) having participants
publicly advocate the importance of safe sex and then (2) reminding each
participant about times when that participant had failed to use condoms. Stone
and his colleagues found that participants reduced this feeling of dissonance
by buying condoms.
Many researchers take
advantage of the fact that a major purpose of theories is to explain what
happens in the world. For example, researchers wanted to understand why
fraternities engage in hazing (Aronson & Mills, 1959; Gerard &
Mathewson, 1966). They wondered if cognitive dissonance theory could explain
hazing. Consequently, they tried to induce dissonance in some participants by
having them suffer electrical shocks as a requirement for being accepted into a
“boring” group, whereas other participants were able to join the
group without an “initiation.” The researchers found that the participants
who received shocks resolved the dissonance caused by the opposing thoughts,
“I am a logical person,” and, “I went through unpleasantness
to join a boring group,” by deciding that the boring group was a pretty
interesting group after all.
Theories are general rules that,
ideally, hold most of the time under specific conditions. Therefore, ask
yourself, “under what situations or conditions, does the theory not
apply?” That is, has the theory neglected to specify important moderator
variables: variables that can intensify, weaken, or reverse the relationship
between two other variables?
Because researchers
asked this question about cognitive dissonance theory, we now know that people
do not change their attitude every time they behave in a way that goes against
their attitudes. Instead, the presence of certain moderator variables will
determine whether performing a counter-attitudinal behavior will change
participants’ attitudes (Aronson, 1989; Brehm & Cohen, 1962; Festinger
& Carlsmith, 1959). Specifically, if participants are going to change their
attitudes after doing a counter-attitudinal behavior, the following conditions
must be met:
1. participants must believe that
they engaged in the behavior of their own free will (perceived freedom);
2. they do not receive a large
reward for doing the behavior (insufficient justification); and
3. they view the attitude as
important to their self-concept (self-relevance).
For example, if a
smoker is forced at gunpoint to say smoking is bad, or given $10,000 for saying
smoking is bad, or does not view smoking as important to his self-concept, the
smoker will not change his or her attitude about smoking. That is, perceived
freedom, insufficient justification, and self-relevance are all variables that
moderate the relationship between doing a counter-attitudinal behavior and
changing one’s attitude. Can you think of other moderator variables that
should be included in dissonance theory? To answer this question, think about factors,
situations, or circumstances that might prevent people from trying to eliminate
inconsistencies between their attitudes and actions.
When looking for
moderating variables, ask yourself whether the theory might be too
parsimonious. For example, operant conditioning theory’s rule that a
behavior reinforced under a partial reinforcement schedule is more resistant to
extinction is too simple. A behavior reinforced under a partial reinforcement
schedule is more resistant to extinction only when the person believes the
reward is controlled by external forces, such as chance, fate, or the
experimenter’s whim. Partially reinforced behaviors are not more
resistant to extinction when the participant believes that getting
reinforcement depends on skill (Rotter, 1990). In other words, the relationship
between reinforcement schedules and extinction is moderated by the variable of
perceived control.
Another way to generate
research ideas from a theory is to design a study that tests the accuracy of
the theory’s core assumptions. Often, attacking the heart of the theory
involves examining the physiological or cognitive events that are--according to
the theory--the underlying causes (mediators) of a phenomenon. For instance,
cognitive dissonance theory assumes that when people have two beliefs that they
see as contradictory, they experience an unpleasant, anxiety-provoking state
called dissonance. To reduce dissonance, people will reconcile the
inconsistency. In other words, dissonance theorists assume that dissonance
mediates attitude change.
To test this
assumption, you might try to induce and maintain dissonance in participants and
determine whether they do find dissonance an unpleasant, anxiety-provoking
state (Elliot & Devine, 1994). If participants felt decreased arousal, it
would seem that you had disproved a core assumption of the theory. That is, you
would have cast doubt on the belief that the state of dissonance is a mediating
variable--physiological process or mental state that is the mechanism for how
an event has its effect--for attitude change.
In addition to trying
to measure an alleged mediating variable, you may try to manipulate it. For
example, suppose that a certain manipulation tends to cause attitude change,
presumably because it creates a cognitive and physiological state of dissonance
that people then reduce. If the psychological state of dissonance is really the
mechanism by which attitude change occurs, interfering with that psychological
state should reduce attitude change. Therefore, you might expose all your
participants to the attitude change manipulation, but do something so that half
of your participants would be less likely to experience the physiological
arousal of the dissonance state. For example, you might reduce any feelings of
dissonance-related arousal by giving one group
a tranquilizing drug. If dissonance
really is the mediating variable for attitude change, your tranquilized
participants should experience less dissonance-related arousal and thus less
attitude change than your other participants.
Rather than trying to torpedo a theory,
some researchers think the best hypotheses are those in which two theories make
opposite predictions. Ideally, these studies, called critical experiments, try
to settle the question of which theory’s view of the world is more
correct. One of the first critical experiments was simple but persuasive.
Participants looked at two lights. Almost as soon as one went on, the other
went off. According to structuralism, the person should see one light going on,
another going off. However, according to Gestalt theory, participants should
see the illusion of a single light moving back and forth. Gestalt theory was
supported.
More recently,
cognitive dissonance theorists have taken on psychoanalysis. Specifically,
dissonance researchers tested the psychoanalytic position that if you express
hostility towards a person, you’ll release pent up anger and consequently
feel better about the person. Dissonance theory, on the other hand, predicts
that if people are mad at someone and then hurt that person, then people will
justify their aggression by denigrating that person. Consequently, after
expressing their aggression toward a person, people will feel more hostility
toward that person. Experiments support the dissonance prediction (Aronson,
1990).
If you can devise a
situation where two theories make different predictions, you have probably
designed a study your professor will want to hear about. However, even if you
perform a critical experiment, do not expect the “loser” of your
study to be replaced. The loser has only lost a battle, not a war. There is
usually enough vagueness in any theory for its arch-supporters to
minimize the extent of the damage.
That is, they may argue that their theory wouldn’t necessarily make the
prediction that you claimed it would. In other words, they may say that you put
words in their theory’s mouth. If they can’t claim that you put
words in their theory’s mouth, they may concede that their theory applies
to a more limited set of situations than they thought or they may modify the
theory to account for the results (Greenwald, 1975). Because scientists usually
respond to a damaging set of findings by modifying an established theory rather
than “throwing the baby out with the bath water,” Darwin’s
theory of evolution and Festinger’s theory of cognitive dissonance
survive today, but not in their original form. That is, by adapting to new
data, theories evolve.
As you have seen, theory is a very
useful tool for developing research ideas and tying those ideas to existing
knowledge. Without research based on theory, psychology would chaotically move
in every direction with little purpose, like a chicken with its head cut off.
Indeed, theory-based research is responsible for much of psychology’s
progress since 1892, when psychology was described by William James (p. 468)
as:
a string of raw facts;
. . . but not a single law in the sense in which physics shows us laws, not a
single proposition from which any consequence can causally be deduced . . .
This is no science. . . .
Yet not everyone
believes that theory-based research is always best (Greenwald et al., 1986;
Kuhn, 1970; Skinner, 1956). (See Table T-3 for pros and cons of theory-based
research.) Thomas Kuhn (1970) argues that theories can serve as blinders,
causing us to ignore problems that don’t fit nicely into existing theory.
Skinner (1956) also argues that sticking to a theory’s narrow path may
cause us to ignore interesting side streets. Specifically, Skinner’s
advice to investigators was “when you find something of interest, study
it.”
In addition to stopping
us from seeking new facts, theories may also stop us from seeing old facts in
new ways. Thus, we may fail to make the kind of discoveries Darwin, Freud, and
Skinner made--the ones that result from seeing what everyone else has seen, but
thinking what no one else has thought. As physicists learned when
Newton’s theory was largely overturned by Einstein, looking at things
exclusively through one theory’s perspective is especially dangerous when
the theory has not been extensively tested. In other words, some experts
(Greenwald et al., 1986; Kuhn, 1970; Skinner, 1968) would agree with Sherlock
Holmes’ statement about the danger of premature theorizing: “One
begins to twist facts to fit theories rather than theories to fit facts.”
Fortunately, as Aronson
(1989) points out, science is like a big circus tent. Under the tent, there is
room for research derived from theory, but there is also room in the tent for
researchers who follow hunches.
Not only can
hunch-based and theory-based research share the same circus tent, but they can
sometimes share the same ring. For example, suppose that an intuitive hunch led
you to predict that having pets would cause the elderly to be more mentally
alert and healthy. You might then use theory to help you clearly articulate a
logical rationale for your prediction--or even to help you refine your
prediction. For example, according to learned helplessness theory, a lack of
control over outcomes may cause depression. Therefore, having a pet, or even a
plant, may give one more of a sense of control and thus make one less
vulnerable to helplessness (Langer & Rodin, 1976).