Cognitive Interest Of Younger Students

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Cognitive Interest Of Younger Students
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Habermas's methodological critique of positivism in social science went along with his criticism of technocratic politics in the early 1960s, initially in his contribution to the ‘positivism dispute’ ( Adorno [1969]1976 ), and then in major works of the late 1960s. Here, Habermas developed an approach that rejected positivism for its reduction of epistemology to methodology and its failure to appreciate the differences between the natural and social sciences. At the same time, he criticized what he called the ‘hermeneutic claim to universality’ and argued that understanding (Verstehen) needed to be complemented by causal explanation in a model of ‘emancipatory’ social science exemplified by Freudian psychoanalysis and the (originally Marxist) critique of ideology. Theories of this kind combined the two methods in an attempt to identify causal obstacles to the understanding of personal and social problems, which a purely interpretive approach could not capture. However, as he wrote later in a new preface to this work, the problem of Verstehen remains important because mere observation does not give access to a ‘symbolically structured reality’ and because “a participant's understanding is not as easy to monitor as an observer's perception” ( Habermas, 1982a : 549).
Habermas's critique of positivism went along with a cautious appropriation of elements of the Marxist tradition – the theory of ideology in particular. Critical theory's response to what Habermas, following Horkheimer, calls ‘traditional theory’ parallels Marx's critique of idealist philosophy ( Habermas, [1968] 1986 : 212).
In the 1970s, Habermas came to feel that this epistemological approach, a model of knowledge grounded in ‘ cognitive interests ’ (in prediction and control, as in positivist conceptions of natural science, in understanding, as in hermeneutics, and in ‘emancipation’ from unnecessary and unwanted constraints) was too rigid to capture the diversity of social science. He turned instead to seek an alternative foundation for critical social science in an analysis of human communication and, more broadly, ‘communicative action.’ When we make statements about states of affairs in the world, about our feelings or about what we consider right, we commit ourselves to offering grounds for these utterances to someone who might disagree. In this sense, our speech acts, if they are more than just orders or attempts to manipulate others, are oriented toward possible agreement. Communicative action in this sense is distinguished from, and prior to, ‘strategic action,’ as conceptualized in economic and rational choice approaches, ‘normatively regulated action,’ as theorized by Talcott Parsons and other functionalist sociologists, and ‘dramaturgical action’ as in Erving Goffman's ‘presentation of self in everyday life.’ For Habermas, the teleological and strategic, the normative and the dramaturgical model are ‘one sided’ or ‘simplistic’: “Only the communicative model of action presupposes language as a medium of uncurtailed communication …” ( Habermas, 1987a : 142).
The concept of communicative action refers to the interaction of at least two subjects capable of speech and action who establish interpersonal relations (whether by verbal or by extra-verbal means). The actors seek to reach an understanding about the action situation and their plans of action in order to coordinate their actions by way of agreement.
The theory of communicative action is not ‘a continuation of the theory of knowledge by other means’ ( Habermas, 1987a : xxxix) but a ‘reconstructive science,’ which, like linguistics, explicates the rules and principle underlying our everyday speech and action ( Habermas, 1987a : 18–19). As he said in an interview,
I never say that people want to act communicatively, but that they have to . When parents bring up their children, when the living appropriate the transmitted wisdom of preceding generations, when individuals and groups cooperate, […] they all have to act communicatively. There are elementary social functions that can only be satisfied by means of communicative action.
Habermas presented this model in his major work in 1981, through a detailed discussion of the history of social thought and methodology and a reflection on the history of Western modernity. Very briefly, the Enlightenment meant rational and critical reflection on tradition, but societal rationalization also brought with it the decoupling of economic and administrative systems from rational scrutiny, with markets and state bureaucracies following their own logics. Habermas had addressed these questions in his early book, Structural Transformation of the Public Sphere ( 1962 ), which examined the emergence in late seventeenth- and eighteenth-century Europe of a critical public, reading newspapers and discussing current issues in coffee houses and salons. This was based on “post-traditional legal and moral representations” ( Habermas, 1987b : 166).
Max Weber continually points to the paradoxes of rationalization, such as the irrationality of a work ethic pursued to extremes, whereas Habermas poses the more precise question of an ‘imbalanced’ rationalization process, in which “the capitalist economy and modern administration expand at the expense of other domains of life that are structurally disposed to moral-practical and expressive forms of rationality and squeeze them into forms of economic or administrative rationality” ( Habermas, 1987b : 183).
Here, Habermas refers to Marx and more precisely to Georg Lukács’ concept of reification (Verdinglichung), which blends Weber's rationalization with Marx's concept of alienation or estrangement. The theoretical framework, then, is that of Western Marxism, in particular the early critical theory of Horkheimer, Marcuse, Adorno, and others. But where Max Weber, as he sees it, conceives rationalization in cognitive and individualistic terms and Adorno and Horkheimer lapse into an abstract, pessimistic, and ultimately unpromising critique of instrumental reason, Habermas grounds his critique of capitalism in a theory of communication. The specific pathologies of modernity are above all the reduction of the possibilities of communicative action through the ‘colonization of the lifeworld.’
The counterfactual question then became whether we could have had the first form of rationalization without the second; the practical question whether we can reestablish democratic control over these processes. He ended the book with a statement of what he saw as the task of a critical theory of society: “explaining those pathologies of modernity that other approaches pass right by for methodological reasons” ( Habermas, 1987b : 378). Here he reformulated some of his earlier analyses of crisis tendencies in advanced capitalist societies. There he had argued that crises of capitalist reproduction were increasingly displaced into rationality crises in state policy, legitimation crises, and crises of individual motivation. He restates this theme in the Theory of Communicative Action : that the “new conflicts” are located less “in domains of material reproduction” and rather “in domains of cultural reproduction, social integration and socialization”( Habermas, 1987b : 349).
The basic categories of Habermas's theory are, then, those of a broadly conceived sociological theory of action, which, however, also incorporates social historical and system-theoretical, as well as structuralist elements. Although he borrows some concepts from Talcott Parsons ( Holmwood, 2009 ) and often mentions Niklas Luhmann, his conception is closer to those of Pierre Bourdieu and Anthony Giddens ( Outhwaite, 2015 ).
What Habermas (1987b : 553) stresses is that system theories and theories of action ‘isolate and overgeneralize’ aspects of modernity (system and lifeworld, respectively). When, here and elsewhere, he emphasizes the role of language, he does not intend to reduce “social action to the interpretive accomplishments of participants in communication … assimilating action to speech, interaction to conversation” ( Habermas, 1987a : 143). This is rather the way in which action is ‘coordinated.’
The one-sidedness of the other action models can also be illustrated sociologically. I can act strategically but do not, I think, always do so; I can act thoroughly dramaturgically, for example, by ‘power dressing,’ or not bother; I can orient myself to norms or ignore them, like tourists who behave as they would at home. The reference above to mechanisms of action coordination ( Habermas, 1987a : 143) shows that Habermas is going beyond a narrowly conceived theory of action. An alternative form of action coordination is through markets and bureaucratic power.
NANCY MATHER , NOEL GREGG , in Handbook of Psychoeducational Assessment , 2001
The original Woodcock-Johnson Psycho-Educational Battery (WJ) provided the first comprehensive, co-normed battery of cognitive abilities, achievement, and interest ( Woodcock & Johnson, 1977 ). The T ests of C ognitive A bility presented a multifactor approach to test interpretation by providing four interpretive factors: Comprehension-Knowledge (G c ), Fluid Reasoning (G f ), Short-Term Memory (G sm ), and Processing Speed (G s ). The T ests of A chievement consisted of 10 tests organized into four curricular areas: reading, mathematics, written language, and knowledge.
The Woodcock-Johnson—Revised (WJ-R; Woodcock & Johnson, 1989 ) was designed to expand and increase the diagnostic capabilities of the WJ. Similar to the organization of the WJ, the tests were divided into two main batteries: the T ests of C ognitive A bility (WJ-R COG) and the T ests of A chievement (WJ-R ACH). Both the WJ-R COG and WJ-R ACH have two easel test books: the Standard Battery and the Supplemental Battery.
For the 1989 WJ-R COG, interpretation was enhanced by the measurement of seven factors that represent major components of human intellectual abilities ( McGrew, 1994 ; Reschly, 1990 ; Ysseldyke, 1990 ). Two additional factors (G rw , a reading/writing factor, and Gq, a quantitative ability factor) were measured by the WJ-R ACH. Thus, nine G f -Gc abilities were measured across the WJ-R COG and WJ-R ACH.
The WJ-R Tests of Achievement consisted of 14 tests organized into four curricular areas: reading, mathematics, written language, and knowledge. Several new tests were added to the reading and written language areas. To facilitate pre- and posttesting, parallel alternate forms of the Tests of Achievement, Forms A and B, were available. In addition, both the WJ-R COG and WJ-R ACH have direct Spanish-language counterparts, the Batería-R COG and the Batería-R ACH ( Woodcock & Munoz-Sandoval, 1996a , 1996b ), that contain all of the same tests and interpretive features. Although the basic features of the WJ-R have been retained in the third edition, the extensive re-norming and the new tests, clusters, and interpretive procedures improve and increase the diagnostic power. In addition, two empirically derived theories guided development of the WJ III.
So why did ontogenetic and phylogenetic learning not extinguish MM? Why did evolution not endow H. sapiens with more meta- cognitive interest in critical evaluation? A tentative answer to this intriguing question must at least consider the following aspects.
First, it should be clear from the discussions of conditional reasoning, sample-size neglect and pseudocontingencies that the learning environment does not support reasoning about sampling biases and sampling constraints. Although real samples are virtually never random and unbiased, they rarely reveal how they are constrained and unrepresentative. It is impossible to keep track of sample size or even to determine the beginning and end of a sample. Samples are ambiguous in terms of segmentation units and aggregation levels. They vary in the conditional nature of the sampling process, and they are qualified by an unknown number of extraneous boundary conditions. Moreover, the environment is often closefisted when it comes to providing baserate or feedback information. In such a nasty environment ( Einhorn & Hogarth, 1978 ), the preconditions for logical and Bayesian reasoning are rarely met, precluding corrections of biased samples and quantitative inferences. MM may thus serve the function to prevent organisms from dangerous reasoning!
Second, some reflection on the adaptive costs and benefits of MM reveals that eliminating MM could be like fleeing out of the frying pan into the fire. Routinely engaging in critical reasoning and meta-cognitive censorship of each and every sample would mean to forego the adaptive advantage of responding automatically to signals, primes, and conditional stimuli. The adaptive value of such overlearned routines is contingent on their lying outside the domain of meta-cognitive reflection. Critical assessment would discard as unreliable and invalid many subtle and fragmentary primes, which facilitate automatic functioning.
Third, MM not only supports heuristic functions like signaling and priming, but some MM effects afford themselves useful heuristics. For example, Monte-Carlo simulations show that the pseudocontingency heuristic provides a valid proxy for genuine contingency detection under most conditions, being more frugal and parsimonious than normative correlation measures ( Kutzner, Vogel, Freytag, & Fiedler, 2011b ). A similar point could be made for the inability to disentangle judged quantities from the number of learning trials, which presents a safeguard against unreliability. Likewise, biases resulting from unpacking may be understood as a side effect of an extremely practical zooming tool that allows us to zoom-in and increase the resolution of densely encountered categories and to zoom-out minor matters that can be represented by more abstract categories ( Parducci, 1965 , 1968 ; Unkelbach, Fiedler, Bayer, Stegmüller, & Danner, 2008 ).
All these plausible arguments, however, should not blind us for the fact that MM can result in blatantly wrong judgments and harmful decisions. Confusing the probability of HIV given a positive test with the probability of a positive test given HIV can cause harm and wrong action. Illusory correlations can create inequality and discrimination against minorities. Mistaken ecological correlations can inform wrong political strategies, and failures to unpack a complex budgetary plan can lead to serious planning fallacies. Even though MM may be a catalyst of fast and spontaneous responding and a remedy against dangerous reasoning, hazarding all these expensive consequences of MM is clearly maladaptive and dangerous. The crucial question then is what kind of debiasing training, what decision aids and educational practices might help to eliminate or alleviate costs and harm due to MM.
Arthur Schulman , in Cognitive Ecology , 1996
Games like Scrabble, its ancestor Anagrams, and many others reward the ability to discover words that an available set of letters might give rise to. Such discovery skills depend on intimate knowledge of frequently occurring—and not-so-frequently occurring—letter clusters. If the letters belonging to a promising cluster become available, the cluster is likely to be redintegrated no matter how the individual letters are arrayed. Frequent play, it is true, may result in the puzzler’s knowing what can be made from particular sets of letters in various permutations—finding SMOTHER, e.g., the puzzler may recall that THERMOS is its transposal—but the cuing word must always be rediscovered through the combinatorial redintegrative process.
Given a set of letters—either an arbitrary one or one that is known to yield a meaningful word or phrase—it is seldom clear, a priori, whether it can be transposed into anything else that is familiar. Usually it cannot. True anagrams—rearrangements that carry more or less the same meaning as the word or phrase one begins with, as MOONSTARER for ASTRONOMER and BENEATH CHOPIN for THE PIANO BENCH, are genuine discoveries; the puzzler who finds them cannot know they are there until his heuristics of play turn them up. The discovery process is not mysterious, however. ASTRONOMER, after all, suggests MOON, whose letters are obviously present in the available pool, so that STAR-ER emerges easily from the rest. As a rule, then, the would-be anagrammatist finds a word within the source phrase that relates to it, and goes on to see what, if anything, can be made of the letters that remain. The task is straightforward and usually frustrating, but finds such as SNUB I USE FOR NOSY ONE for MIND YOUR OWN BUSINESS can motivate the quest for new ones.
Psychologists have studied anagram solution—really transposai solution, to make the puzzler’s distinction—for decades, but their research has taught us little about how such “anagram” problems are attacked. Some of the variables that affect likelihood and latency of solution are known—word frequency and word length, for example—but how a solution emerges is not clear. According to one review ( Richardson & Johnson, 1980 ), the subject “selects an orthographically regular sequence of letters from the set given and uses this as a probe to interrogate the lexicon” (p. 247). Just how the selection is made, and just what the interrogation might entail, are not spelled out, and so these remain vague conjectures about the anagram solution process. Subjects in anagram experiments, moreover, are by and large novices at the tasks they are set. Their performance reflects their naïveté, with solutions ten times as long as those of expert puzzlers, when they occur at all ( Schulman, Jonides, & Cohen, 1990 ). Order-of-magnitude effects like these suggest that the expert is not merely a faster novice but rather one whose manner of solution is different. I suspect that everyone solves an anagram, when we do so at all, by a process more like redintegration than interrogation, but the expert’s vaster knowledge of word structure enables him to build more letter clusters with redintegrative promise. The cluster-assembly process depends on mutual affinities that for the expert have become second nature: not only will Q “attract” U, but many other letters and letter pairs will be drawn to one another. Hofstadter (1983) argues that all pattern identification, and not merely anagram solution by experts, in the end works in this bottom-up fashion. (“Looking for” may affect evidence gathering, but not the redintegrative use of the evidence itself.) I think he is right, but convincing evidence of any kind will be hard to muster. For the moment, Hofstadter tries to persuade by an example (see Gleick, 1983 ). He asks the reader to try to transpose the nonsense string LOONDERK into a familiar word. What comes to mind are wordlike “solutions” like KLONDORE and KNOODLER, while impossible and unpronounceable strings like RKONLDEO never seem to be entertained. It turns out, after all, that there is no solution word lurking behind LOONDERK; it is simply impossible to permute its letters into an eight-letter English word. But the plausible word parts one creates along the way suggest that Hofstadter’s scenario for sense-making is essentially correct: discovery takes place throu
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