low noise

Unexpected arousal shapes confidence – blog and news coverage

For those looking for a good summary of our recent publication, several outlets gave us solid coverage for expert and non-expert alike. Here is a short summary of the most useful write-ups:

The eLife digest itself was excellent – make sure to fill out the survey at the end to let eLife know what you think of the digests  (I love them).

via Arousing confidence – Brains and Behaviour – Medium

As you read the words on this page, you might also notice a growing feeling of confidence that you understand their meaning. Every day we make decisions based on ambiguous information and in response to factors over which we have little or no control. Yet rather than being constantly paralysed by doubt, we generally feel reasonably confident about our choices. So where does this feeling of confidence come from?

Computational models of human decision-making assume that our confidence depends on the quality of the information available to us: the less ambiguous this information, the more confident we should feel. According to this idea, the information on which we base our decisions is also the information that determines how confident we are that those decisions are correct. However, recent experiments suggest that this is not the whole story. Instead, our internal states — specifically how our heart is beating and how alert we are — may influence our confidence in our decisions without affecting the decisions themselves.

To test this possibility, Micah Allen and co-workers asked volunteers to decide whether dots on a screen were moving to the left or to the right, and to indicate how confident they were in their choice. As the task became objectively more difficult, the volunteers became less confident about their decisions. However, increasing the volunteers’ alertness or “arousal” levels immediately before a trial countered this effect, showing that task difficulty is not the only factor that determines confidence. Measures of arousal — specifically heart rate and pupil dilation — were also related to how confident the volunteers felt on each trial. These results suggest that unconscious processes might exert a subtle influence on our conscious, reflective decisions, independently of the accuracy of the decisions themselves.

The next step will be to develop more refined mathematical models of perception and decision-making to quantify the exact impact of arousal and other bodily sensations on confidence. The results may also be relevant to understanding clinical disorders, such as anxiety and depression, where changes in arousal might lock sufferers into an unrealistically certain or uncertain world.

The PNAS journal club also published a useful summary, including some great quotes from Phil Corlett and Rebecca Todd:

via Journal Club: How your body feels influences your confidence levels | National Academy of Sciences

… Allen’s findings are “relevant to anyone whose job is to make difficult perceptual judgments trying to see signal in a lot of noise,” such as radiologists or baggage inspectors, says cognitive neuroscientist Rebecca Todd at the University of British Columbia in Vancouver, who did not take part in the research. Todd suggests that people who apply decision-making models to real world problems need to better account for the influence of internal or emotional states on confidence.

The fact that bodily states can influence confidence may even shed light on mental disorders, which often involve blunted or heightened signals from the body. Symptoms could result from how changes in sensory input affect perceptual decision-making, says cognitive neuroscientist and schizophrenia researcher Phil Corlett at Yale University, who did not participate in this study.

Corlett notes that some of the same ion channels involved in regulating heart rate are implicated in schizophrenia as well. “Maybe boosting heart rate might lead people with schizophrenia to see or hear things that aren’t present,” he speculates, adding that future work could analyze how people with mental disorders perform on these tasks…

I also wrote a blog post summarizing the article for The Conversation:

via How subtle changes in our bodies affect conscious awareness and decision confidence

How do we become aware of our own thoughts and feelings? And what enables us to know when we’ve made a good or bad decision? Every day we are confronted with ambiguous situations. If we want to learn from our mistakes, it is important that we sometimes reflect on our decisions. Did I make the right choice when I leveraged my house mortgage against the market? Was that stop light green or red? Did I really hear a footstep in the attic, or was it just the wind?

When events are more uncertain, for example if our windscreen fogs up while driving, we are typically less confident in what we’ve seen or decided. This ability to consciously examine our own experiences, sometimes called introspection, is thought to depend on the brain appraising how reliable or “noisy” the information driving those experiences is. Some scientists and philosophers believe that this capacity for introspection is a necessary feature of consciousness itself, forging the crucial link between sensation and awareness.

One important theory is that the brain acts as a kind of statistician, weighting options by their reliability, to produce a feeling of confidence more or less in line with what we’ve actually seen, felt or done. And although this theory does a reasonably good job of explaining our confidence in a variety of settings, it neglects an important fact about our brains – they are situated within our bodies. Even now, as you read the words on this page, you might have some passing awareness of how your socks sit on your feet, how fast your heart is beating or if the room is the right temperature.

Even if you were not fully aware of these things, the body is always shaping how we experience ourselves and the world around us. That is to say experience is always from somewhere, embodied within a particular perspective. Indeed, recent research suggests that our conscious awareness of the world is very much dependent on exactly these kinds of internal bodily states. But what about confidence? Is it possible that when I reflect on what I’ve just seen or felt, my body is acting behind the scenes? …

The New Scientist took an interesting angle not as explored in the other write-ups, and also included a good response from Ariel Zylberberg:

via A bit of disgust can change how confident you feel | New Scientist

“We were tricking the brain and changing the body in a way that had nothing to do with the task,” Allen says. In doing so, they showed that a person’s sense of confidence relies on internal as well as external signals – and the balance can be shifted by increasing your alertness.

Allen thinks the reaction to disgust suppressed the “noise” created by the more varied movement of the dots during the more difficult versions of the task. “They’re taking their own confidence as a cue and ignoring the stimulus in the world.”

“It’s surprising that they show that confidence can be motivated by processes inside a person, instead of what we tend to believe, which is that confidence should be motivated by external things that affect a decision,” says Ariel Zylberberg at Columbia University in New York. “Disgust leads to aversion. If you try a food and it’s disgusting, you walk away from it,” says Zylberberg. “Here, if you induce disgust, high confidence becomes lower and low confidence becomes higher. It could be that disgust is generating this repulsion.”

It is not clear whether it is the feeling of disgust that changes a person’s confidence in this way, or whether inducing alertness with a different emotion, such as anger or fear, would have the same effect.

You can find all the coverage for our article using these excellent services, altmetric & ImpactStory.

https://www.altmetric.com/details/12986857

https://impactstory.org/u/0000-0001-9399-4179/p/mfatd6ZhpW

Thanks to everyone who shared, enjoyed, and interacted with our research!

 

Enactive Bayesians? Response to “the brain as an enactive system” by Gallagher et al

Shaun Gallagher has a short new piece out with Hutto, Slaby, and Cole and I felt compelled to comment on it. Shaun was my first mentor and is to thank for my understanding of what is at stake in a phenomenological cognitive science. I jumped on this piece when it came out because, as I’ve said before, enactivists often  leave a lot to be desired when talking about the brain. That is to say, they more often than not leave it out entirely and focus instead on bodies, cultural practices, and other parts of our extra-neural milieu. As a neuroscientist who is enthusiastically sympathetic to the embodied, enactive approach to cognition, I find this worrisome. Which is to say that when I’ve tried to conduct “neurophenomenological” experiments, I often feel a bit left in the rain when it comes time construct, analyze, and interpret the data.

As an “enactive” neuroscientist, I often find the de-emphasis of brains a bit troubling. For one thing, the radically phenomenological crew tends to make a lot of claims to altering the foundations of neuroscience. Things like information processing and mental representation are said to be stale, Cartesian constructs that lack ontological validity and want to be replaced. This is fine- I’m totally open to the limitations of our current explanatory framework. However as I’ve argued here, I believe neuroscience still has great need of these tools and that dynamical systems theory is not ready for prime time neuroscience. We need a strong positive account of what we should replace them with, and that account needs to act as a practical and theoretical guide to discovery.

One worry I have is that enactivism quickly begins to look like a constructivist version of behaviorism, focusing exclusively on behavior to the exclusion of the brain. Of course I understand that this is a bit unfair; enactivism is about taking a dynamical, encultured, phenomenological view of the human being seriously. Yet I believe to accomplish this we must also understand the function of the nervous system. While enactivists will often give token credit to the brain- affirming that is indeed an ‘important part’ of the cognitive apparatus, they seem quick to value things like clothing and social status over gray matter. Call me old fashioned but, you could strip me of job, titles, and clothing tomorrow and I’d still be capable of 80% of whatever I was before. Granted my cognitive system would undergo a good deal of strain, but I’d still be fully capable of vision, memory, speech, and even consciousness. The same can’t be said of me if you start magnetically stimulating my brain in interesting and devious ways.

I don’t want to get derailed arguing about the explanatory locus of cognition, as I think one’s stances on the matter largely comes down to whatever your intuitive pump tells you is important.  We could argue about it all day; what matters more than where in the explanatory hierarchy we place the brain, is how that framework lets us predict and explain neural function and behavior. This is where I think enactivism often fails; it’s all fire and bluster (and rightfully so!) when it comes to the philosophical weaknesses of empirical cognitive science, yet mumbles and missteps when it comes to giving positive advice to scientists. I’m all for throwing out the dogma and getting phenomenological, but only if there’s something useful ready to replace the methodological bathwater.

Gallagher et al’s piece starts:

 “… we see an unresolved tension in their account. Specifically, their questions about how the brain functions during interaction continue to reflect the conservative nature of ‘normal science’ (in the Kuhnian sense), invoking classical computational models, representationalism, localization of function, etc.”

This is quite true and an important tension throughout much of the empirical work done under the heading of enactivism. In my own group we’ve struggled to go from the inspiring war cries of anti-representationalism and interaction theory to the hard constraints of neuroscience. It often happens that while the story or theoretical grounding is suitably phenomenological and enactive, the methodology and their interpretation are necessarily cognitivist in nature.

Yet I think this difficulty points to the more difficult task ahead if enactivism is to succeed. Science is fundamentally about methodology, and methodology reflects and is constrained by one’s ontological/explanatory framework. We measure reaction times and neural signal lags precisely because we buy into a cognitivist framework of cognition, which essentially argues for computations that take longer to process with increasing complexity, recruiting greater neural resources. The catch is, without these things it’s not at all clear how we are to construct, analyze, and interpret our data.  As Gallagher et al correctly point out, when you set out to explain behavior with these tools (reaction times and brain scanners), you can’t really claim to be doing some kind of radical enactivism:

 “Yet, in proposing an enactive interpretation of the MNS Schilbach et al. point beyond this orthodox framework to the possibility of rethinking, not just the neural correlates of social cognition, but the very notion of neural correlate, and how the brain itself works.”

We’re all in agreement there: I want nothing more than to understand exactly how it is our cerebral organ accomplishes the impressive feats of locomotion, perception, homeostasis, and so on right up to consciousness and social cognition. Yet I’m a scientist and no matter what I write in my introduction I must measure something- and what I measure largely defines my explanatory scope. So what do Gallagher et al offer me?

 “The enactive interpretation is not simply a reinterpretation of what happens extra-neurally, out in the intersubjective world of action where we anticipate and respond to social affordances. More than this, it suggests a different way of conceiving brain function, specifically in non-representational, integrative and dynamical terms (see e.g., Hutto and Myin, in press).”

Ok, so I can’t talk about representations. Presumably we’ll call them “processes” or something like that. Whatever we call them, neurons are still doing something, and that something is important in producing behavior. Integrative- I’m not sure what that means, but I presume it means that whatever neurons do, they do it across sensory and cognitive modalities. Finally we come to dynamical- here is where it gets really tricky. Dynamical systems theory (DST) is an incredibly complex mathematical framework dealing with topology, fluid dynamics, and chaos theory. Can DST guide neuroscientific discovery?

This is a tough question. My own limited exposure to DST prevents me from making hard conclusions here. For now let’s set it aside- we’ll come back to this in a moment. First I want to get a better idea of how Gallagher et al characterize contemporary neuroscience, the source of this tension in Schillbach et al:

Functional MRI technology goes hand in hand with orthodox computational models. Standard use of fMRI provides an excellent tool to answer precisely the kinds of questions that can be asked within this approach. Yet at the limits of this science, a variety of studies challenge accepted views about anatomical and functional segregation (e.g., Shackman et al. 2011; Shuler and Bear 2006), the adequacy of short-term task- based fMRI experiments to provide an adequate conception of brain function (Gonzalez-Castillo et al. 2012), and individual differences in BOLD signal activation in subjects performing the same cognitive task (Miller et al. 2012). Such studies point to embodied phenomena (e.g., pain, emotion, hedonic aspects) that are not appropriately characterized in representational terms but are dynamically integrated with their central elaboration.

Claim one is what I’ve just argued above, that fMRI and similar tools presuppose computational cognitivism. What follows I feel is a mischaracterization of cognitive neuroscience. First we have the typical bit about functional segregation being extremely limited. It surely is and I think most neuroscientists today would agree that segregation is far from the whole story of the brain. Which is precisely why the field is undeniably and swiftly moving towards connectivity and functional integration, rather than segregation. I’d wager that for a few years now the majority of published cogneuro papers focus on connectivity rather than blobology.

Next we have a sort of critique of the use of focal cognitive tasks. This almost seems like a critique of science itself; while certainly not without limits, neuroscientists rely on such tasks in order to make controlled assessments of phenomena. There is nothing a priori that says a controlled experiment is necessarily cognitivist anymore so than a controlled physics experiment must necessarily be Newtonian rather than relativistic. And again, I’d characterize contemporary neuroscience as being positively in love with “task-free” resting state fMRI. So I’m not sure at what this criticism is aimed.

Finally there is this bit about individual differences in BOLD activation. This one I think is really a red herring; there is nothing in fMRI methodology that prevents scientists from assessing individual differences in neural function and architecture. The group I’m working with in London specializes in exactly this kind of analysis, which is essentially just creating regression models with neural and behavioral independent and dependent variables. There certainly is a lot of variability in brains, and neuroscience is working hard and making strides towards understanding those phenomena.

 “Consider also recent challenges to the idea that so-called “mentalizing” areas (“cortical midline structures”) are dedicated to any one function. Are such areas activated for mindreading (Frith and Frith 2008; Vogeley et al. 2001), or folk psychological narrative (Perner et al. 2006; Saxe & Kanwisher 2003); a default mode (e.g., Raichle et al. 2001), or other functions such as autobiographical memory, navigation, and future planning (see Buckner and Carroll 2006; 2007; Spreng, Mar and Kim 2008); or self -related tasks(Northoff & Bermpohl 2004); or, more general reflective problem solving (Legrand andRuby 2010); or are they trained up for joint attention in social interaction, as Schilbach etal. suggest; or all of the above and others yet to be discovered.

I guess this paragraph is supposed to get us thinking that these seem really different, so clearly the localizationist account of the MPFC fails. But as I’ve just said, this is for one a bit of a red herring- most neuroscientists no longer believe exclusively in a localizationist account. In fact more and more I hear top neuroscientists disparaging overly blobological accounts and referring to prefrontal cortex as a whole. Functional integration is here to stay. Further, I’m not sure I buy their argument that these functions are so disparate- it seems clear to me that they all share a social, self-related core probably related to the default mode network.

Finally, Gallagher and company set out to define what we should be explaining- behavior as “a dynamic relation between organisms, which include brains, but also their own structural features that enable specific perception-action loops involving social and physical environments, which in turn effect statistical regularities that shape the structure of the nervous system.” So we do want to explain brains, but we want to understand that their setting configures both neural structure and function. Fair enough, I think you would be hard pressed to find a neuroscientist who doesn’t agree that factors like environment and physiology shape the brain. [edit: thanks to Bryan Patton for pointing out in the comments that Gallagher’s description of behavior here is strikingly similar to accounts given by Friston’s Free Energy Principle predictive coding account of biological organisms]

Gallagher asks then, “what do brains do in the complex and dynamic mix of interactions that involve full-out moving bodies, with eyes and faces and hands and voices; bodies that are gendered and raced, and dressed to attract, or to work or play…?” I am glad to see that my former mentor and I agree at least on the question at stake, which seems to be, what exactly is it brains do? And we’re lucky in that we’re given an answer by Gallagher et al:

“The answer is that brains are part of a system, along with eyes and face and hands and voice, and so on, that enactively anticipates and responds to its environment.”

 Me reading this bit: “yep, ok, brains, eyeballs, face, hands, all the good bits. Wait- what?” The answer is “… a system that … anticipates and responds to its environment.” Did Karl Friston just enter the room? Because it seems to me like Gallagher et al are advocating a predictive coding account of the brain [note: see clarifying comment by Gallagher, and my response below]! If brains anticipate their environment then that means they are constructing a forward model of their inputs. A forward model is a Bayesian statistical model that estimates posterior probabilities of a stimulus from prior predictions about its nature. We could argue all day about what to call that model, but clearly what we’ve got here is a brain using strong internal models to make predictions about the world. Now what is “enactive” about these forward models seems like an extremely ambiguous notion.

To this extent, Gallagher includes “How an agent responds will depend to some degree on the overall dynamical state of the brain and the various, specific and relevant neuronal processes that have been attuned by evolutionary pressures, but also by personal experiences” as a description of how a prediction can be enactive. But none of this is precluded by the predictive coding account of the brain. The overall dynamical state (intrinsic connectivity?) of the brain amounts to noise that must be controlled through increasing neural gain and precision. I.e., a Bayesian model presupposes that the brain is undergoing exactly these kinds of fluctuations and makes steps to produce optimal behavior in the face of such noise.

Likewise the Bayesian model is fully hierarchical- at all levels of the system the local neural function is constrained and configured by predictions and error signals from the levels above and below it. In this sense, global dynamical phenomena like neuromodulation structure prediction in ways that constrain local dynamics.  These relationships can be fully non-linear and dynamical in nature (See Friston 2009 for review). Of the other bits –  evolution and individual differences, Karl would surely say that the former leads to variation in first priors and the latter is the product of agents optimizing their behavior in a variable world.

So there you have it- enactivist cognitive neuroscience is essentially Bayesian neuroscience. If I want to fulfill Gallagher et al’s prescriptions, I need merely use resting state, connectivity, and predictive coding analysis schemes. Yet somehow I think this isn’t quite what they meant- and there for me, lies the true tension in ‘enactive’ cognitive neuroscience. But maybe it is- Andy Clark recently went Bayesian, claiming that extended cognition and predictive coding are totally compatible. Maybe it’s time to put away the knives and stop arguing about representations. Yet I think an important tension remains: can we explain all the things Gallagher et al list as important using prior and posterior probabilities? I’m not totally sure, but I do know one thing- these concepts make it a hell of a lot easier to actually analyze and interpret my data.

fake edit:

I said I’d discuss DST, but ran out of space and time. My problem with DST boils down to this: it’s descriptive, not predictive. As a scientist it is not clear to me how one actually applies DST to a given experiment. I don’t see any kind of functional ontology emerging by which to apply the myriad of DST measures in a principled way. Mental chronometry may be hokey and old fashioned, but it’s easy to understand and can be applied to data and interpreted readily. This is a huge limitation for a field as complex as neuroscience, and as rife with bad data. A leading dynamicist once told me that in his entire career “not one prediction he’d made about (a DST measure/experiment) had come true, and that to apply DST one just needed to “collect tons of data and then apply every measure possible until one seemed interesting”. To me this is a data fishing nightmare and does not represent a reliable guide to empirical discovery.

How to tell the difference between embodied cognition and everything else

Psychscientists have a great post up proposing an acid test for genuine embodied cognition versus the all to popular “x body part alters y internal process” trope. Seriously- check it out!

http://psychsciencenotes.blogspot.co.uk/2012/03/field-spotters-guide-to-embodied.html

Embodied cognition: A field spotter’s guide

Question 1: Does the paper claim to be an example of embodied cognition?

If yes, it is probably not embodied cognition. I’ve never been entirely sure why this is, but work that is actually about embodiment rarely describes itself as such. I think it’s because embodiment is the label that’s emerged to describe work from a variety of disciplines that, at the time, wasn’t about pushing any coherent agenda, and so the work often didn’t know at the time that it was embodied cognition.

This of course is less true now embodiment is such a hot topic, so what else do I look for?

Question 2:  What is the key psychological process involved in solving the task?

Embodied cognition is, remember, the radical hypothesis that we solve tasks using resources spanning our brain, bodies and environments coupled together via perception. If the research you are reading is primarily investigating a process that doesn’t extend beyond the brain (e.g. a mental number line, or a thought about the future) then it isn’t embodiment. For example, in the leaning to the left example, the suggestion was that we estimate the magnitude of things by placing them on a mental number line, and that the way we are leaning makes different parts of that number line easier to access than others (e.g. leaning left makes the smaller numbers more accessible). The key process is the mental number line, which resides solely in the brain and is hypothesised to exist to solve a problem (estimating the magnitude of things) in a manner that doesn’t require anything other than a computing brain. This study is therefore not about embodiment.

Question 3: What is the embodied bit doing?

There’s a related question that comes up, then. In papers that aren’t actually doing embodied cognition, the body and the environment only have minor, subordinate roles. Leaning to the left merely biases our access to the mental number line; thinking about the future has a minor effect on bodily sway. The important bit is still the mental stuff – the cognitive process presumably implemented solely in the brain. If the non-neural or non-cognitive elements are simply being allowed to tweak some underlying mental process, rather than play a critical role in solving the task, it’s not embodiment.