Sunday, October 7, 2007

Luria, S., and Pillemer

S. “wasn't aware of any peculiarities in himself and couldn't conceive of the idea that his memory differed in some way from other people's.” He believed everyone's mind functioned the same way, and that we all had to deal equally as often with the difficulties of his synesthesia and eidetic memory. This led me to think about how common—if not universal, to some extent—this experience must be. I would imagine that only those young adults with a very special empathy would assume a priori that all people experience life in vastly different ways. (I recognize that this comment as well as many—or all—of my others are colored by my subjective experience of life, and that all my statements about the minds of others are just my mind's best attempt at the most accurate of conjecture.) I would also imagine that no two people perceive, retain, and remember events, systems, and actions in the same way. This is not to say that the difference between my experience and my roommate's experience is anywhere near the size of the difference between mine and S.'s experience; his experiences are so markedly different that one must use several hard to pronounce conditions to approximate S's world. But this does start my thought process moving down the slippery slope toward suggesting that there may not be enough shared experience in terms of perception and memory to formulate any sort of more realistic picture of human memory. Are there enough commonalities to get past the most vague conception of schemata? Does my memory work similarly enough to yours to allow us to gain anything by studying different interpretations of the “human memory?” Is there anything resembling a normal human memory? Can (and I guess I'm with my buddy Neisser on this one) we really learn anything truly meaningful about memory without obtaining an in-depth study—the detail of which approaching Luria's study of S.—of every living human being? Can we generalize anything beyond asserting, “This method worked for this subject on this occasion but on that occasion it was different”?
Okay. Enough of my subjective epistemological break down.

All that said, I really appreciated Luria's account, mixing a great deal of phenomenological data with ample experimental/lab data. I cannot help but lean in the direction of saying this may be the best way to figure out what commonalities we do share.

I was also extremely fascinated by S.'s control over his body—his body temperature, heartbeat, etc. If he could learn and perfect certain techniques of his visual memory, can we “normal people” learn to do the same? And if so, can we learn to use these images to the extent that S. could, and so learn to control our body temperatures? What were the limits of his bodily control? What are the limits of ours? Levitating monks, anyone?

In the section titled Momentous Events, does Pillemer really say anything beyond, “We often remember the things that seem the most important to us”? Of course someone is more likely to remember a moment when their life is “abruptly and violently altered,” if they actually experienced an earth quake or perceive themselves as directly related to the news they hear, if the moment initiates a “major life transition,” or comes at a time of life-altering personal insight. I know that Neisser would scoff at this section of the chapter. The funny thing is how often Neisser is cited—and how banal the summaries of the conclusions of his studies are.

2 comments:

Carolyn said...

Cory posed some very interesting questions that, like most mysteries pertaining to memory seem to be, essentially unanswerable. For instance, Cory asks if our individual memory systems are similar enough to generalize about human memory. I think that it is quite possible that while we think we are talking about the same things, we are not. Language seems to get in the way of sensory description because there is no way to truly share a sensation. What if what I think of as red is purple to someone else? What if what I identify as feeling “anxious” someone else would identify as “excited?” In memory research there is necessary leap of faith that the commonalities we find in experimentation point to commonalities in our physiology and psychology.

Like Cory, I also find it fun to think about the capabilities of body control. We always hear in Sci-Fi movies that humans use only a small fraction of our brain, but the Mnemonist seems to be proof that more really is possible. How powerful is the human brain? And what other conditions can cause an increased connection between the body and the mind? What are some mind/body connections that we take for granted?

In response to the Pillemer chapter Cory asks if it isn’t all too obvious that we remember stuff that is important to us. In this regard our opinions diverge. Pillemer does not merely say that we remember important things, he explores the complex relationship between traumatic events and the rest of our lives. Though I have never experienced anything as traumatic as Hiroshima or sexual abuse, I have had experiences as a child that to this day affect my everyday life. I find it fascinating that singular moments can have such a huge impact on our lives. I also find it interesting that the same event can affect people differently. Why did a childhood moment that both my brother and I experienced scar me deeply while he came out with only a vaguely unpleasant memory?

Unknown said...

Everyone wants to be unique, but no one really wants to be different. It doesn't really seem odd that S was unaware of his special abilities. Obviously each person's mind works in a unique way, as Cory said our experiences color our mentality and behavior. However, for the most part I feel that people assume that they think, that they use their brains in the same way as everyone else, with some minor differences. It is impossible to get into the brain of another person, to see if they actually see and hear and think and remember in the EXACT same way as anyone else. As we saw on the first day of class, each person described their memories in different terms. I remember faces very well but never names, therefore even with an apt description of the process of learning a name (if the person is able to really describe it) I would not be able to quite imagine how it works. I would still be in my own mind.
The brain is very individualized when it comes down to the tiny details. Therefore it probably would be interesting to do an intensive study of people with normal memory, and how it functions for individuals.
As for S. his memory was an incredible feat, but it also caused him so many problems. Carolyn suggests that perhaps he could be using a higher percentage of his brain power, but I feel like having a memory that good could actually be limiting in the long run. He had to focus on the images created for his memory as opposed to the people saying the words. I imagine interpersonal relationships would be hard, because he would develop static with overlapping voices and garbled sentences. His mind is so busy recording that he probably can't pay attention. It seems a high price to pay for using more power. I wonder however if, he wasn't using more brain power, but instead areas of the brain that are normally devoted to other things, if he was rerouting normal brain functions to the process of remembering.
It is also hard to imagine not being able to forget. It seems like it could be such a good thing, you'd never forget your keys or that homework assignment, or that important conversation with your teacher. However you'd also never forget the mundane details of life, breakfast lunch and dinner 7 days a week. It seems like all of the mundane would cause a lot of interference. Not forgeting would make it difficult to remember. To me, S's method of forgetting seems counterintuitive. By trying to erase something I'd only succeed in branding it in my mind. In taking the extra time to burn it or erase it, it seems like the data would just rearrange itself somewhere else. Since S's memory was so detailed couldn't he just pull up the black board and rewrite what he'd 'erased'. wouldn't the memory of the memory still exist?