What Psychologists Better Know About Recovered Memories, Research,
Lawsuits, and the Pivotal Experiment
By Kenneth S. Pope
Clinical Psychology: Science and Practice Fall, 1995 vol. 2, #3, pp.
304-315.
Book Review: The Myth of Repressed Memory: False Memories and Allegations of Sexual
Abuse. By Elizabeth Loftus and Katherine Ketcham.
"I study memory, and I am a skeptic," writes Loftus in The Myth of Repressed
Memory (p. 7). A distinguished faculty member of the University of
Washington's Department of Psychology and School of Law, she co-authored
Witness for the Defense: The Accused, the Eyewitness, and the Expert Who Puts
Memory on Trial with Katherine Ketcham in 1991. Like their previous work, The
Myth of Repressed Memory is told from Loftus's first-person perspective. Their
new book advances the theme of Witness for the Defense: Here the expert puts
recovered memory of abuse on trial. In my opinion, The Myth of Repressed Memory
will be her most influential work. It goes beyond numerous anecdotes, vividly
told. It presents Loftus's critical false-memory experiment, which seized
wide-spread attention and seemed to prove the skeptics' central assertion:
that therapists could implant false autobiographical memories in their
patients. This review will focus on the pivotal experiment and then on six
broad issues for the field.
THE HISTORIC EXPERIMENT
Loftus dedicates the book "to the principles of science, which demand that any
claim to 'truth' be accompanied by proof" (p. v). That demand for proof posed a
problem. Loftus and those whom she calls her fellow skeptics believed that
therapists were implanting false memories of trauma, creating a "false memory
syndrome" (Loftus, 1994). The skeptics could identify therapists' potential
mechanisms of suggestion, persuasion, or coercion to develop the syndrome. The
problem was: Where was the experimental proof that false memory could be
created?
The obvious experimental design--researchers assigning a specific
autobiographical lie for therapists to implant in patients--could never be
implemented. In my opinion, no human subjects committee (HSC) could approve
subjecting even the first pilot subject to such deceptive manipulation of
autobiographical memory in actual psychotherapy.
Finding a convincing analogue seemed hopeless. The "Chris experiment" showed
that it wasn't. A child or adolescent would be used as the patient analogue and
a trusted older relative as the therapist analogue. Loftus's student, "Jim
Coan, created a false memory in the mind of his 14-year-old brother, Chris"
(Loftus, 1993, p. 533). According to Loftus, the implanted pseudoevent was
greatly feared and mildly traumatic. The research team "developed a paradigm
for instilling a specific childhood memory for being lost on a particular
occasion at the age of five. They chose getting lost because it is clearly a
great fear of both parents and children.... The technique involved a subject
and a trusted family member who played a variation of 'Remember the time that .
. . ?"' (Loftus, 1993, p. 532).
A widely publicized experiment, the story of "Chris" has appeared in American
Psychologist, the New Yorker, newsmagazines, newspapers, books, scholarly
articles, television shows, courtroom testimony, lectures, work-shops, and
countless informal discussions. As textbooks begin incorporating his story, he
will likely become as well known as Anna 0. How could one experiment seize such
attention and profoundly shift our view of memory? The research design and
striking findings reflect five essential criteria:
- 1. The bogus event was traumatic. Just as false memory syndrome involves
apparent recovery of traumatic memories, the experiment had to induce recovery
of a traumatic autobiographical memory. As Loftus (1993) emphasized, "the
lost-in-a-shopping-mall example shows that memory of an entire mildly traumatic
event can be created" (p. 532).
- 2. Chris, the experimental subject, was not an adult. Had Chris been an
adult,
it is unlikely that anyone would have viewed this experiment as remarkable,
meaningful, or persuasive. There would be no way to ensure that adults took
such an experiment seriously and would be any less prone to be truthful with
the experimenters than the experimenters were truthful with them. Media
coverage of decades of deception research eroded the assumption that adult
subjects are naive. Adults can appreciate the opportunity to have a little fun
with experimenters, those so-called experts of the mind who recount in print
and television shows how easily they fool their subjects. They may give
whatever answers they think the experimenter wants. They may give whatever
answers will get them out of there as soon as possible, wondering why
experimenters expect much work or commitment for such a relatively low hourly
wage. But a trusted older relative experimenting on the mind and memory of a
minor still living at home was to many a convincing analogue. This design
echoed the therapeutic relationship, a relationship of sometimes great
importance to the patient, a relationship often reflecting trust, dependence,
and the expectation of honesty. Someone only 8 or 14 years old and an older
relative, like therapist and patient, have a relationship that is not solely
that of researcher and experimental subject. A young child or teen may have
great trust in older family members, looking to them for the safe reliability
and honesty that cannot always be expected from strangers (e.g., those who
conduct psychology experiments), but may be similar to the trust that patients
may place in therapists. Certainly the brief, limited relation-ship between
experimenters and adult volunteers (some of them college students who are even
more aware of deception research) signing up for a university experi-ment does
not reflect much at all the deeper seriousness, investment, and involvement
that a patient has in therapy and the trust that a patient invests in a
therapist. Those less than 15 years old are less likely to be aware that
experimenters sometimes do not tell research subjects the truth, and are more
likely to be truly naive subjects.
- 3. The manipulation of autobiographical memory seemed convincing. When
debriefing led Chris to consider that the relative who had referred to a
narrative as true was now saying it was false, he was not quite able to believe
it (p. 98). The media have emphasized that the mildly trau-matic memory seemed
more real to Chris than memory of actual events. "Chris . . . refused to
relinquish his false memory even after he was told it never happened. His
implanted recollection ... had become realer than his memory of some actual
events. Chris had become, to borrow a term, an honest liar" (Boss,
1994).
- 4. The false memory still seemed real a year later. The experiment showed
how
persistent a false memory implanted by a trusted figure can be and the
difficulty or perhaps impossibility of convincing a minor that what he or she
clearly remembers as part of the authentic history of the self is complete
fiction. In a videotaped interview conducted a year after debriefing, Chris
says that the false memory "still seems like it really happened" (Loftus,
1994). The presentation of data spanning more than a year tends to be much more
convincing than what are often called "quick and dirty" experiments.
- 5. The experiment relied on apparent realism. Loftus identified a
validity
problem in memory research. This prob-lem arises when experimental subjects are
aware that the materials they try to remember are stimuli of a memory study
(Loftus & Loftus, 1976, p. 110). When subjects sign up for a "memory
experiment" and know that the materials to be remembered are stimuli in a
memory experiment, the findings may lack validity beyond an atypical,
laboratory setting. When an older, trusted family mem-ber, supposedly present
when the pseudoevent occurred, presents the bogus event in the form of "Do you
remember when . . . ?", the experiment avoids artificiality that can
undermine both validity and generalizability.
A similar experiment was piloted on 8-year-old Brittany, whose mother implanted
a memory that 3 years previously Brittany and her friend had gotten lost in a
condominium complex (p. 9g). A little over 2 weeks later, Brittany encountered
another lack of truthfulness when "a friend of the family interviewed Brittany
under the pretext of getting information for a school newspaper article on
childhood memories" (p 9g).
Here was apparent experimental proof demanded by the principles of science and
meeting five crucial criteria, that memory--the memory that allows us to know
our own past, gives shape to our reality, and maintains continuity of the self
over time--can be manipulated with precision. That the highly publicized "Chris
experiment" found quick access to courts, the media, and professional
discourse increases the importance of independent attempts at replication.
Such work should be undertaken by a wide range of graduate students in search
of dissertation topics, psychologists, psychiatrists, researchers, and other
scien-tists in diverse settings.
Those responsible for reviewing, approving, and monitoring this research--it
is unclear whether the Department of Psychology, School of Law, and University
of Washington (UW) review research proposals independently or share
responsibility through a single HSC--might, in a joint effort with the research
team, make available the HSC documents necessary for replicating the Chris
experiment. Publishing the documents--making them readily available in
libraries--would make it easier for a wide range of people to gain HSC approval
in their own settings and save those at UW the trouble and expense of
responding to so many individual requests for such information from
researchers, institutes, and other interested people.
The relevant UW investigators, departments, and committees should provide
information about three major issues. First, what information convinced them
that the experimental procedures piloted on Chris (and Brittany) would be safe
and appropriate? A human subject experiment involving a minor or deception
(let alone both) requires advance review and authorization before the first
pilot subject is run. Loftus (1994) has rightfully condemned those who have
perpetrated experiments on subjects who did not give any informed consent,
subjects who were subjected to protocols that have not been through any human
subjects procedures; by working with others at UW to provide the HSC documents
for the Chris experiment, she can help others take account of the full array of
risks and relevant information in submitting and reviewing replication
proposals. Psychologists have a reminder of such requirements in addition to
their ethics code: authors of articles published in APA journals such as
American Psychologist are required to sign an affidavit that the research
presented was conducted in accordance with the ethics code. Before allowing
false memories to be implanted in Chris, what evidence did the HSC, the
Department of Psychology, and the university more generally consider sufficient
to address such questions as: (a) could convincing a minor that something
imaginary actually happened affect the subjects trust in the family member who
deceives him? (b) what effect does being used as a subject in a deception
experiment have on a minor subject? (c) does a trusted relative telling a
minor something that is not true affect the way the minor views the importance
of truth in family and other communications? (d) what are the implications
and side-effects of a frightening, mildly traumatic, and false autobiographical
memory continuing to seem real a year after debriefing? (e) does a minor
adequately understand the nature of a psychology experiment in which subjects
are deceived--or, to use Loftus vivid phrase in describing another deception
experiment, double crossed (Loftus & Loftus, 1976, p. 94)--and the rationales
for telling someone who trusts you that he or she experienced something that
never happened? (f) what are the possible clinical and developmental effects
of such an experiment? (g) if possible clinical effects were not ignored, what
procedures were used to assess them, who implemented them, and what were the
results?
Second, how was informed consent obtained? What procedures and documents
for informing and obtaining consent met the criteria of the HSC and UW? One
cannot, of course, begin piloting an experiment using deception on a minor
without obtaining prior informed consent from the relevant parents, guardians,
or other legal agents. What information was given to the parents about the
purpose, nature, intended consequences, and possible risks or unintended
side-effects of the Chris Experiment? How, if at all, did they understand that
they would be compensated?
Third, how did the investigators, HSC, and UW address subject assent?
Minors generally lack legal standing to provide informed consent, but HSCs
address the issue of a minors assent. Assent becomes an extremely difficult
issue when proposing to implant a false autobiographical memory that will still
seem real a year after debriefing. Implanting false memories into research
subjects raises other potential dilemmas for HSCs. For example, could false
memories of having given informed assent or consent be implanted in research
subjects?
In its description of experiments as well as other tales of recovered
memories, the Loftus and Ketcham book touches on many of the ethical,
professional, and legal issues of this field. Six major questions can be
noted: choosing sides, telling stories, requiring proof, remaining silent,
bringing suit, and guiding practice and policy.
CHOOSING SIDES
The first issue involves the choosing of sides. Loftus characterizes it this
way:
On one side are the "True Believers," who insist that the mind is capable
of repressing memories and who accept without reservation or question the
authenticity of recovered memories. On the other side are the "Skeptics,"
who argue that the notion of repression is purely hypothetical and
essentially untestable, based as it is on unsubstantiated speculation and
anecdotes that are impossible to confirm or deny." (p. 31)
What are the data supporting and what are the likely consequences of labeling
those with whom one disagrees "True Believers"? Loftus makes clear her source
by quoting from Hoffer's well-known text The True Believer (1965/1989). If the
skeptic demands proof, how does the True Believer decide what to believe in?
Hoffer observed that True Believers shut themselves off from facts, ignoring a
doctrine's validity while valuing its ability to insulate them from reality
(Hoffer, 1965/1989, p. 80). Hoffer described the True Believer's passionate
hatred and fanaticism, noting "the acrid secretion of the frustrated mind,
though composed chiefly of fear and ill will, acts yet as a marvelous slime to
cement the embittered and disaffected into one compact whole" (p. 124).
Similarly, a number of False Memory Syndrome Foundation (FMSF) board members,
including Loftus, compare those who are on the other side to the hunters and
murderers of "witches." The book returns repeatedly to the central metaphor of
the "hysteria" characterizing "an earlier time when God-fearing citizens,
gripped by fear, superstition, and religious fervor, cried witch, and a forest
of stakes was pounded into the very heart of the community" (p. 228).
Quotations from Arthur Miller's The Crucible precede the first page of the book
and chapters 2-4. Historically, hysteria typically has been used to label
women, in this case the allegedly large proportion of female therapists who
seem to implant or otherwise elicit false memories and the allegedly large
proportion of women who assert false memories. FMSF claims that at least 90% of
those whom they described as "accusing adult children" who are afflicted with
the syndrome and about 75% of their therapists were female (Wakefield &
Underwager, 1992, p. 486; see also Freyd, Roth, Wakefield, & Underwager, 1993;
it is unclear what FMSF means by the oxymoronic term "adult children" and how
FMSF scientifically distinguishes adult children from other adults). Wakefield
and Underwager (1994) emphasize that psychiatrist Richard Gardner "sees the
women who make false allegations based on recovered memories as very angry,
hostile, and sometimes paranoid. He believes that all will have demonstrated
some type of psychopathology in earlier parts of their lives" (p. 332).
Aside from attributing group characteristics (e.g., True Believers, hysterical
murderers of those falsely accused as "witches") to those who disagree with
their beliefs about recovered memories, some who have served on the FMSF
advisory board have also made attributions about individuals with whom they
disagree. Wakefield and Underwager (1994), for example, discuss professor of
cognitive psychology Jennifer Freyd "hiding" behind a "dishonest facade," which
they describe as "the contemptible last refuge of fools and the beginning of
conscious knavery" (p. 289).
Loftus is right to remind us of the demand that proof accompany assertions;
many are making assertions about various people who work in this area. Some
assertions are quite broad; they characterize all who are on "the other side."
Some are extremely personal; for example, in addition to remarks about Freyd
cited above are published allegations from other FMSF sources about her sexual
relationship with her husband, how she nurses her infant, her mental health,
etc. (Doe, 1991); one document containing many such propositions was
distributed to her university colleagues while she was being considered for
promotion to full professor. Those who make the assertions bear a heavy
responsibility to ensure that the published evidence accompanying the
assertions meets the highest standards of scientific proof, to state clearly
how making allegations about sexual relationships or nursing are valid and
relevant forms of professional discourse (as opposed to being a form of ad
feminam rather than logical argument), and what limits of civility, respect,
or basic human decency are to be recognized in characterizing those with whom
one disagrees on an issue.
TELLING STORIES
Concerns about incompetent or malicious therapists remain abstractions until
embodied in a specific person. This book uses many anecdotes to illustrate its
view of the horrors perpetrated by therapists whose patients experience
recovered memories. Loftus tells the story of her friend "Barbara" (a
pseudonym), describing her as a crusading, sometimes strident colleague, whose
toxic friendship taught Loftus much about how the therapeutic process can be
abusive (p. 223). Loftus alleges that a specific individual had sexually
molested her when she was g and that she had kept it a secret rather than
telling her parents. When Loftus tells the story to her friend Barbara, Barbara
does not put this decades-old product of malleable memory on trial or even ask
Loftus for external evidence that the event really happened. To the contrary,
Barbara apparently begins the True Believer's bizarre, frightening, and almost
psychotic activities. Barbara is clearly, in Loftus's word, "abusive." In
Loftus's memory, Barbara apparently lacks boundaries and the ability to
differentiate other people's feelings from her own; she sends Loftus a
horrifying rendering of genital mutilation. Finally, Loftus understands how
Barbara had mistreated and victimized her: "I knew what Barbara had done--she
had stolen my memory, stuck pins in it, and made it bleed" (p. 226). Loftus's
dramatization of her victimization by Barbara and of her own pierced and
bleeding memory raises complex questions about psychologists' telling stories
about their "friends" to illustrate abusive events or other phenomena.
The path this book uses to dramatic immediacy may exact a high price. The book
states, "Certain scenes and dialogue have been dramatically re-created in order
to convey important ideas or to simplify the story" (p. xi). Perhaps there is
another meaning to this statement, but in context it seems to mean that when
the authors did not know what had happened, they made up words and actions
based on what they thought the people might have said, and shaped this
imaginative exercise to communicate certain ideas or reduce complexity so that
a certain story would emerge clearly. How readers can figure out when the book
is dramatically re-creating scenes and dialogue involving people and events
intended to be real and when it uses other methods of description (e.g., based
solely on authenticated documents or solely on the memory of the authors) is
unclear. Although the dramati-zation of supposedly actual events by those who
were not present has become widespread in books (e.g., McGinniss, 1993), what
are the likely results? Loftus herself asserts, "Cognitive psychologists know
that when people engage in exercises in imagination, they begin to have
problems differentiating what is real and what is imagined" (p. 158).
While the portrayal of Barbara has the persuasive power of narrative, readers
have a responsibility, in my opinion, to consider carefully such questions as
these: Aside from the distortions of memory, were Barbara's words and behaviors
re-created to dramatize a specific point and was a much more complex and
ambiguous story simplified so that it would more neatly support Loftus's view
of the True Believer? If there were a videotape of what was supposedly an
extremely private expression of self-disclosure and friendship, would it differ
signifi-cantly from Loftus's account? What are the strengths and weaknesses of
using an exchange between friends as a basis for assessing "a great deal about
the inherent and potentially abusive power of the therapeutic process" (p.
223)? What responsibilities, if any, does a psychologist have when intending to
publicize a friend's attempts to help as a negative example? An additional
issue in dramatically recreating scenes and dialogue of actual people is that
pseudonyms may be relatively transparent, especially (as in this case) when
surrounding information seems to point to a readily identifiable person.
The book's dramatic re-creations and more factual descriptions make it fairly
easy to tell the skeptics from the True Believers. If therapists travel in
"swarms" (p. 251), have faces "red with anger" (p. 34), or start "swatting"
Loftus over the head with a newspaper (p. 211), they are likely True Believers.
But if the professionals are noticeable by their "dark, soulful eyes" (p. 252),
the description characterizes a skeptic (in this case fellow FMSF advisory
board member Richard Ofshe). Readers might ask themselves if such
characterizations are relevant and valid, and if so, how they increase our
understanding of this area. For example, were Loftus as staunch an advo-cate
for True Believers as she currently is for skeptics, would the skeptics in this
book be flushed, swarming, and swatting? Would skeptical challenges to her
positions be dismissed as unscientific and based on "the prejudices and fears
that lie behind the resistance to my life's work" (p. 4)?
PROOF
The nature of and responses to child abuse have attracted vigorous examination.
For example, FMSF executive director Pamela Freyd once wrote as Jane Doe that
to oppose child abuse constitutes conformity with the widely ridiculed "pc"
movement: "To be against child sexual abuse is a 'politically correct'
position" (p. 163; see also Freyd, 1994).
According to Loftus, the scientific proof is supposedly adequate to support the
truth of the claim: recalling abuse is inevitably followed by a variety of
specific, harmful consequences that seem to constitute a checklist. Loftus and
Rosenwald (1993), for example, discuss "the psychological upheaval, the ruined
reputations and careers, and the breakup of families that inevitably follow the
supposed recall of abuse in childhood" (p. 70). Loftus's conclusion that
upheaval, ruin, and family breakup are universal regardless of the specific
family, the nature of abuse supposedly recalled, whether the individual
discloses the sup-posed recollection to anyone else, and other factors, may
powerfully influence the damages phase of legal actions against those who
recall memories of abuse and/or their therapists. But where is the proof of
this assertion?
Obviously, anyone is free to make an absolute statement about all recall of
abuse and may rely upon clinical experience, a collection of anecdotes, an
appeal to authority, or countless other justifications. But a scientific
approach, according to Loftus, demands that the assertion of truth be
accompanied by proof Moreover, readers must have the proof presented in
sufficient statistical detail to address questions about whether the sweeping
conclusions were warranted in terms of the base rates of psychological
upheaval, ruined reputations and careers, and family breakup for the general
population on which this research was based.
A careful examination of proof with regard to diverse conspiracy allegations
would be extremely useful. Repeatedly, claims of powerful groups cooperating in
illegal, destructive behaviors seem to arise in this area. For example, those
who recover memories may describe conspiracies of Satanists, who perform
secret ceremonies involving child abuse and murder. Those who testify for the
defense in child abuse cases may describe what seems like a conspiracy of those
who seek to protect children. In their recent book, Wakefield and Underwager
(1994), for example, claimed: "This child protection system is allied with a
law enforcement system that commits illegal acts such as murder and fabrication
of evidence" (p. 36).
Ofshe and Singer, two of Loftus's FMSF advisory board colleagues, have raised
the issue of a conspiracy directed against them. They filed a federal suit
against the American Psychological Association (APA), American Sociological
Association (ASA), and various individuals, alleging racketeering activity
connected with an effort to destroy Ofshe and Singer's ability to function as
professionals and to testify as expert witnesses in certain trials (Singer &
Ofshe v. APA et al., 1992, p. 3). One question this suit raises is: Can those
who sue an organization be regarded as unbiased experts in other legal actions
whose principals are members of the organization?
These plaintiffs also filed a suit in state court alleging that APA, ASA, and
others conspired in a number of acts, including attempts to obstruct justice,
deceiving federal judges, mail fraud, and defamation (Singer & Ofshe v. APA et
al., 1994a, p. 7). The complaint noted that both Singer and Ofshe derived a
substantial portion of income from consultations and work as expert witnesses,
and discussed how Ofshe was greatly emotionally distressed in light of how his
potentially jeopardized credibility could affect his clients. (For additional
information, see Singer & Of she v. APA et al., 1993; Singer & Of she v. APA et
al., 1994b).
Assessing conspiracy claims and other assertions requires not only requesting
proof but also analyzing the methods by which that proof is obtained. Judge
Yule, for example, held that Ofshe's methods seemed in some regard to be those
of which he is critical when discussing therapists working with recovered
memories. "Just as [Ofshe] accuses [therapists] of resolving at the outset [to
find] repressed memories of abuse and then constructing them, he has resolved
at the outset to find a macabre scheme of memories progressing toward satanic
cult ritual and then creates them" (Crook v. Murphy, 1994a, p. 27).
REMAINING SILENT
Loftus remains silent on some important issues. She states flatly, "I have
stopped arguing statistics" (p. 34). Her reluctance, however, makes it
difficult to understand the assumptions underlying descriptive and inferential
statistics that she cites. For example, she supports an assertion about
therapists that "fully a quarter of them are engaging in beliefs and practices
that are risky if not dangerous" (Loftus, 1994) by citing a study in which
survey forms were sent to a total of 1,600 U.S. psychologists and 300 British
psychologists (Poole, Lindsay, Memon, & Bull, 1995). Findings were presented in
terms of country, age, gender, theoretical orientations, experiences, beliefs,
and behaviors using 145 forms from the 1,600 U.S. psychologists and 57 forms
from 300 British psychologists. Psychologists need to scrutinize the
assumptions underlying research in which percentages are reported to the second
decimal when bases are less than 100 (see Table 2, p. 429), a number of t tests
and chi-squares are conducted without a plan for controlling Type I error, and
an inadequate sample size is used for characterizing the large population of
therapists in two countries across numerous variables.
Following Loftus's lead in terming those on the other side "True Believers,"
Pendergrast (1995) has examined the 25% figure and other findings reported by
Poole and her colleagues. Pendergrast believes that social workers or
master's-level counselors contain a larger percentage of True Believers, but
uses the more conservative 25% figure.
Taking that 25 percent figure as accurate, however--and ignor-ing the
substantial number of "recovered memories" that arise outside that core
group--we arrive at 62,500 True Believer therapists. Poole and Lindsay
found that each therapist saw approximately 50 female clients per year,
of
whom 34 percent recovered memories. The hunt for repressed memories
blossomed to full flowering 1988, with the publication of The Courage to
Heal. Thus, assuming that these same True Believers have practiced their
memory-retrieval arts from 1989 to 1993 (ignoring the first year and
1994), we arrive at an astonishing figure by simple multiplication:
62,500 True Believers x 50 clients/year x 5 years x 34 percent who
recover memories = 5.3 million cases of "recovered
memories"! And that doesn't include men who have recovered memories. (p.
491)
Skeptical of the result, Pendergrast observes that 5.3 million constitutes
slightly over 2% of the U.S. population and would mean that about 1 in 12
American families had already experienced a recovered memory accusation.
Similarly, Loftus might have discussed portions of her own work spanning 3
decades that seem relevant to the book's attack on the myth of repression.
Early in 1994, for example, her own data led her to observe: "There is a reason
to believe that the 19% figure we obtained in the current study may actually be
an overestimate of the extent to which repression occurs" (Loftus, Polonsky, &
Fullilove, 1994, p. 81) and "One could argue that this means that robust
repression was not especially prevalent in our sample" (p. 80). In the prior
decade she discussed "motivated forgetting" and presented a documented study of
a college professor who became unable to remember a series of traumas but after
a long period of time was able to recover memories of the traumas. "Eventually,
R. J. was able to remember all of her trau-matic experiences. . . . Even though
the return of her memories made her wiser, she was also much sadder. More than
most of us ever will, R. J. understood the true meaning in Christina Rosetti's
words in Remember: "Better by far you should forget and smile than that you
should remember and be sad" (Loftus, 1980/l988, p.73). Discussing an example of
response to a single trauma (i.e., unlike R. J.'s response to a series of
traumas), Loftus asserted: "After such an enormously stressful experience, many
individuals wish to forget . . . and often their wish is granted" (p. 73). And
in the 1970s, Loftus wrote:
Memories that may cause us great unhappiness if they were brought to
mind often appear to be 'forgotten." However, are they really lost from
memory or are they simply temporarily repressed as originally suggested by
Freud (1922)? Repression is the phenomenon that prevents someone from
remembering an event that can cause him pain and suffering. One way that
we know that these memories are repressed and not completely lost is that
the methods of free association and hypnosis and other special techniques
used by psychotherapists can be used to bring repressed material to mind
and can help a person remember things that he has failed to remember earlier. (Loftus & Loftus, 1976, p. 82).
Discussing the experimental evidence of repression, she reviews an analog
experiment by Zeller (1950) and explains: "This experiment indicates that when
the reason for the repression is removed, when material to be remembered is no
longer associated with negative effects, a person no longer experiences
retrieval failure" (p. 83).
SUING PROFESSIONALS AND LITIGATING SCIENCE
As an expert witness, Loftus has testified extensively for the defense. She
testified that all of her courtroom testimony in criminal cases was on behalf
of defendants and that she had testified only for defendants alleged to have
engaged in abuse in civil cases focusing on repression and child abuse (Smith
v. Smith, 1993, pp. 4, 6-7).
Her recounting of courtroom experiences encourages us to consider how the
methods of science and the meth-ods of litigation differ, their influence on
each other, and, in the words of one court, the need for "more papers, more
discussion, better data, and more satisfactory models" (Underwager and
Wakefield v. Salter, 1994, p. 11). Those who work in the area seem compelled to
keep an eye on the courts and their power. FMSF, for example, informed accused
parents that they could seek guardianship proceedings by making legal claims
that the child who has recovered memories is incompetent ("Legal Aspects of
False Memory Syndrome," 1992, p. 3). No action, however, was deemed as
desirable as filing a malpractice action against the therapist. "The best
course of action is by the child who realized the error of the accusations
made, and recants and brings an action for malpractice, against the therapist.
It would seem that there is a very real possibility that the parent could join
in this action.... Therapists, medical institutions and insurance companies
will be seriously threatened by such actions" ("Legal Aspects of False Memory
Syndrome," 1992, p.3).
Novel suits in two California cities blamed a popular book for leading people
to believe false memories of sex abuse and satanic ceremonies ("Author Target
of False-Memories Lawsuit," 1994, p. B3; Butler, 1994).
Two members (actually, one is a former member) of the FMSF advisory board filed
an interesting suit. After psychologist Anna Salter wrote a case study
exploring the relationship of claims made by psychologists Ralph Underwager
(credited with coining the term "false memory syndrome") and Hollida Wakefield
to the primary research and original sources, Drs. Underwager and Wakefield
sued Salter, claiming defamation. The appellate court noted: "Underwager
served on the board of the False Memory Syndrome Foundation until resigning t
after being quoted as telling a Dutch journal that sex with children is a
'responsible choice for the individual"' (Underwager and Wakefield v. Salter,
1994, p. g).
The appellate court summarized some salient aspects of Underwager and
Wakefield's career:
Psychologists Ralph Underwager and Hollida Wakefield have written two
books.... They conclude that most accusations of child sexual abuse stem
from memories implanted by faulty clinical techniques rather there from
sexual contact between children and adults. The books have not been well
received in the medical and scientific press. A review of the first in
the
Journal of the American Medical Association concludes that the authors
took a one-sided approach: " . . . When a given reference fails to
support their viewpoint they simply misstate the conclusion. When they
cannot use a quotation out of context from an
article, they make unsupported statements, some of which are palpably
untrue and others simply unprovable." . . .
Underwager's approach has failed to carry the medical profession, but it
has endeared him to defense lawyers. He has testified for the defendant in
more than 200 child abuse prosecutions and consulted in many others.
(pp.1-2)
The court described Underwager's testimony "that children are incapable of
correctly remembering or accurately describing sexual contacts" and cited
other cases in which courts (e.g., Washington state's Supreme Court) had
concluded that Underwager's work was not embraced by the scientific community.
In addressing the belief "that Underwager is a hired gun who makes a living by
deceiving judges about the state of medical knowledge and thus assisting child
molesters to evade punishment,' the court held that
Scientific controversies must be settled by the methods of science
rather than by the methods of litigation.... More papers, more discussion,
better data, and more satisfactory models--not larger awards of
damages--mark the path toward superior understanding of the world around
us. (pp. 10-11)
PRACTICE AND POLICY
The Myth of Repression documents how court involvement has raised complex
practice and policy questions about memory disturbance, acceptable
interventions, and personal responsibility. The highly publicized case of
American University President Richard Berendzen illustrates many of these
questions. The same day President Berendzen resigned, he entered Johns Hopkins
(Spevacek & Gonzales, 1990). The police had caught him making what were
described as "terroristic," obscene phone calls (Vatz & Weinberg, 1993,
B4).
When staff at Johns Hopkins injected sodium amytal, Berendzen began talking
about childhood abuse (Brown & Sanchez, 1990, A1).
He was sweaty and woozy and groggy.... And the psychiatrists who
surrounded his bed kept bombarding him with questions.... He slept for a
few hours, and then ... it was time for group therapy. Still groggy, he
staggered down the hallway and slumped into a seat among the child
molesters and the rapists and the exhibitionists who were his fellow
patients. "And this doctor suddenly riveted me to the wall--wham!--with
these questions and everybody's staring at me and he's going back to all
these things when I was a kid. And the first thing that jolted me was: How
the hell does he know that?" (Carlson, 1990, W12).
During this time, according to a reporter, Berendzen "told them about events
that he'd totally forgotten" (Carlson, 1990, p. W12). He himself noted that
when he engaged in sex with his parents, "Once it was over, it was erased"
(Berendzen & Palmer, 1993, p. xi). In treating Berendzen, the Johns Hopkins
staff also used age regression (Berendzen & Palmer, 1993, p.123), guided
imagery (pp. 154-155), focus on a famous case of alleged child abuse (p. 122),
imaginary letters to his mother (pp. 131-132), and bibliotherapy that included
symptom checklists (p .157) . In light of staff assurances that Berendzen would
always be treated just like any other patient (p. 152), it may surprise readers
to learn of patients' constant access to staff: "McHugh said that even though
Berlin was my attending physician, he wanted me to have his home number and
told me to call if I ever needed him" (p. 153).
The Johns Hopkins evaluation allowed Dr. Paul McHugh, chief psychiatrist and
FMSF board member, to reach a number of specific conclusions. Appearing with
Berendzen on television the same day of the court hearing, McHugh compared the
phone calls to "a kind of foreign body imprinted in him earlier in his life"
("Berendzen pleads guilty to obscene calls," 1990, p. 2). McHugh concluded that
the phone calls were symptoms: "We concluded that Dr. Berendzen is a patient,
and this behavior that he has had, of these telephone calls, are symptoms of
that patienthood, that he is suffering from--in a kind of post-traumatic
disorder, provoked by serious--the most serious kind of sexual abuse to him
when he was a child" (p. 2). McHugh's report to the court asserted that the
calls were not obscene (Berendzen & Palmer, 1993, p. 187). A woman who had
taped some of the calls noted that one involved the graphic description of "a
four-year-old Filipino sex slave locked up . . . in a dog cage.... And the only
thing that she was fed was human waste" ("Berendzen pleads guilty to obscene
calls," 1990, p. 1). McHugh's report to the court emphasized that these
nonobscene calls had nothing to do with Dr. Berendzen's prurient interests but
were an attempt to bring resolution to his own abuse-caused patienthood (Cohen,
1990, A21). The report submitted to the court emphasized that the patient was
now sound psychologically and physically (Spevacek & Gonzales, 1990, A1).
Finally, "Dr. McHugh said after the weeks of treatment that Mr. Berendzen will
'never indulge in that behavior again" (Vatz & Weinberg, 1993, B4). The history
of child abuse was highlighted in the court hearing less than a month after he
had entered the hospital, and he received a suspended sentence.
As reported by McHugh, Berendzen, and the media, these events highlight some
intensely discussed questions about working with adults who claim to have been
abused as children after a long period during which, in Dr. Berendzen's words,
they "somehow don't remember it any more" ("Berendzen pleads guilty," 1990, p.
4). When child abuse is reported 40 years later, can clinicians or forensic
specialists decide with certainty that it did or did not occur? Are sodium
amytal, age regression, guided imagery, probing memories of famous cases of
alleged child abuse, assigning reading materials containing symptom
checklists, and similar techniques useful in assessment and intervention? Can
interrogations conducted in a darkened hospital room or an intensive therapy
group distort findings? Can the possibility that a forensic expert may appear
on national television with the patient affect the process and outcome of a
forensic assessment? What, if any, are the implications of forensic expert and
patient appearing on television shows together? Can a clinician determine
whether a patient experienced prurient inter-est during phone calls, and what
are the assumptions underlying making this distinction? Have sufficient
con-trolled research studies been published in peer-reviewed journals to
provide an empirical basis for assuring courts, after less than a month, that
someone who has made non-obscene but illegal phone calls in the past will
"never indulge in that behavior again"? Can childhood abuse suddenly cause the
symptoms of posttraumatic stress disorder 40 years later, and if so, can a
course of assessment and treatment of less than one month bring about such a
complete recovery that the patient is now sound?
Two profound policy questions are: (a) should a person who only after arrest
claims a history of child abuse be exempt from jail and fines for seemingly
abusive and illegal behavior? and (b) are the forensic uses of mental health
syndromes scientifically based and consistently applied? For example, McHugh's
colleague at Johns Hopkins, John Money, criticized the FBI's handling of the
complaint against Sol Wachtler, chief justice of New York State's highest
court, arguing that no one should hold Wachtler responsible for his actions
because he suffered from advanced symptoms of an erotomanic delusional
disorder, which is a devastating illness (Derscho-witz, 1994, pp. 323-324).
Leo (1994) comments that the illness afflicting a prominent judge arrested for
such symptoms as extortion and threats to kidnap a 14-year-old girl (the
daughter of a woman with whom Wachtler, unknown to his wife, had been sexually
active) is one that apparently can be diagnosed from 300 miles away, that
telephoning the patient or even knowing much about him is unnecessary, and that
all the clinician needs to know is that the patient is blameless. Leo has
described how Money compared Berendzen's condition, as he did Wachtler's, to
epilepsy (i.e., an illness that rendered the individual not responsible for
his own acts).
When a 17-year-old patient claimed that a dentist had assaulted her, more than
20 people told the police that he had also fondled them (Gordon & Ordine, 1992,
Bl). At the trial, Graboyes, the dentist, admitted that he had begun fondling
patients at least 19 years earlier (Gordon, 1991). When Graboyes pled guilty to
indecent assault and corruption of a minor, the district attorney's office
asked for jail time. Harold Lief, a member of the FMSF advisory board,
testified that jail would not be useful because Graboyes was mentally ill and
suffered from a sexual disorder. The judge sentenced him to probation and
ordered that he obtain treatment for his illness. Afterward, Graboyes observed
that his mental illness had rendered him totally disabled and sued to ensure
that he would receive $5,000 a month disability payments for life.
Leo (1994) raises a vital issue of policy and practice:
People at the top of society are far more likely to get away with
psychologized and neurologized excuses than people in rough
neighborhoods.
John Money offered his epilepsy analogies, not after drive-by shootings,
but in defense of a college president and a chief judge.... The
psychologized vocabulary of moral evasion afflicts the whole society,
but it is most corrosive when it lets the powerful off the hook.... [I]t
is crucial to our sense of justice that high-pla
ced perpetrators be held accountable, and not disap-pear into the mists
of
psychology" (pp. 24-25, 28; for discussion of this issue in the case of
the dentist, see Gordon, 1991).
CONCLUSION
I believe The Myth of Repressed Memory is one of the few books that are must
reading among the array that vigor-ously attack those whom Loftus terms True
Believers. In only 290 pages, it covers a diversity of anecdotes, ideas, data,
and assertions. It addresses crucial issues confronting the profession and the
public.
In an area in which so much is at stake, it can be almost irresistible to stake
out an extreme position and defend it by attacking those who disagree as True
Believers, as comparable to murdering and superstitious witch hunters, as
dishonest knaves and fools, and similar characterizations. But the fact that so
much is at stake is a compelling reason to avoid such attacks, to rethink the
FMSF claim that filing a lawsuit is "the best course of action," to consider
the unintended consequences of imaginatively dramatizing supposedly nonfiction
accounts, to ensure that no relevant data--one's own or others'--are excluded
from evaluations of evidence, to assume responsibility for replicating pivotal
experiments, and to assess the degree to which assertions of truth are
accompanied by proof.
What I view as flaws in this book (e.g., dismissing those who disagree as True
Believers) distract and detract from the value of Loftus's contributions and
the serious questions she raises. In my opinion, they do her and the field an
injustice. Not only the two sides that Loftus describes but all sides have
important ideas, data, questions, creativity, experience, wisdom, and concerns
to contribute. The current state of research and the complexity of issues would
seem to make blanket claims of "truth" or "myth" at best premature and at worst
destructive. Even if I or anyone else were convinced of an extreme and absolute
positionthat all recovered memories are true or that all represent a false
memory syndromea rethinking of the position, respectful discussion with those
who disagree, and another look at the evidence can only be healthy. Both
scientifically and clinically, avoiding reflexive acceptance or rejection of an
idea or allegation is crucial. Each client, claim, and hypothesis deserves
careful, unbiased evaluation in light of the full range of available evidence
and context. Even once we have conducted such an evaluation and feel absolutely
certain of our conclusions, we can always be wrong and must never overlook that
possibility. It is hard to overstate the need for "more papers, more
discussion, better data, and more satisfactory models."
