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Elizabeth Loftus is a psychologist and
expert on the malleability of human memory
Loftus is most known for her work on memory
distortion and false memory implantation
Her research could also be used to fight
obesity, addiction with false memories
(CNN)You probably feel pretty attached to
your memories -- they're yours, after all. They define who you are and where
you came from, your accomplishments and failures, your likes and dislikes.
Your memories help you separate friends from enemies. They remind you
not to eat too much ice cream or drink cheap tequila because you remember how
horrible it felt the last time you indulged.
Or do you?
One
conversation with Elizabeth Loftus may shake your confidence in everything you
think you remember. Loftus is a cognitive psychologist and expert on the
malleability of human memory. She can, quite literally, change your mind.
Her
work is reminiscent of films like "Memento" and "Eternal
Sunshine of the Spotless Mind," where what you believe happened is
probably far from the truth -- whether you're the eyewitness to a crime or just
trying to move past a bad relationship.
"She's most known for her important work on memory distortion and
false memories," says Daniel Schacter, a psychology professor at Harvard
University who first met Loftus in 1979 and describes her as energetic, smart
and passionate. "It's made people in the legal system aware the memory
does not work like a tape recorder."
In
fact, Loftus' research shows your memory works more like a Wikipedia page -- a
transcription of history created by multiple people's perceptions and assumptions
that's constantly changing.
Eyewitness testimony
Elizabeth Loftus is a cognitive
psychologist at the University of California Irvine.
One
of Loftus' first experiments, published in 1974, involved car accidents. In the
lab she played videos of different incidents and then asked people what they
remembered seeing. Their answers depended greatly on how she phrased the
question.
For
instance, if she asked how fast the cars were going when they
"smashed" into each other, people estimated, on average, that the
cars were going 7 mph faster than when she substituted the word "hit"
for "smashed." And a week after seeing the video, those who were
asked using the word "smashed" remembered seeing broken glass, even
though there was none in the film.
Even a seemingly less important word in the sentence can make a
difference in an eyewitness account, Loftus found. In a subsequent study she
asked people if they saw "a broken headlight" or "the broken
headlight." Those who were asked about "the" broken headlight
were more likely to remember seeing it, though it never existed.
Police officers' biggest mistake is talking too much, Loftus says.
"They don't, you know, wait and let the witness talk. They are sometimes
communicating information to the witness, even inadvertently, that can convey
their theory of what happened, their theory of who did it."
This is particularly troubling when witnesses are identifying a
perpetrator in a lineup. One of Loftus' studies found even facial recognition
can be "contagious" -- if a witness overhears another witness or
police officer describe a misleading facial feature, they are more likely to
describe the criminal with that feature.
It's not all the cops' fault. "Misinformation is out there in the
real world, everywhere," Loftus says. "Witnesses talk to each other
... they turn on the television or read the newspaper if it's a high-publicity
event. They see other witnesses' account. All of these situations provide
opportunities for new information to supplement, distort or contaminate their
memories."
Loftus has testified in and consulted on hundreds of trials over the
past several decades, usually for the defense. Many were high-profile cases,
including those of the Hillside Strangler, Michael Jackson, Martha Stewart,
Oliver North and Phil Spector.
She's not bothered by defending people others sometimes see as vicious
criminals.
"DNA testing ... has revealed that there are hundreds and hundreds
of people who have been convicted in crimes, and they're completely
innocent," she says, noting that they're often convicted because of unreliable
eyewitness testimony.
Repressed memories
Perhaps Loftus' most powerful -- and controversial -- work came in the
1990s when she first began manufacturing false memories.
In
1990, Loftus got an intriguing call from the defense attorney for George
Franklin, father of Eileen Franklin. In her mid-20s, Eileen Franklin claimed
she remembered seeing her father rape and murder her best friend as a child.
The prosecution said she had repressed the memory up until that point.
Loftus testified at the trial about the fallibility of memories but
could not say whether she had ever studied repressed memories such as Eileen
Franklin was maintaining. George Franklin was convicted, and Loftus went back
to the lab.
After doing some research, she became convinced a therapist might have
led Eileen Franklin to suspect her father in the murder. Therapists were
essentially guiding patients to remember false events, Loftus believed --
asking leading questions and telling their patients to imagine an event that
might have happened.
For
example, if a woman came in with an eating disorder, her therapist might say
"80% of patients with an eating disorder were abused. Were you?" Then
the therapist might ask the patient to think about who might have abused her
and when.
While Loftus couldn't definitively prove that repressed memories weren't
real, she could show that it was possible to implant a memory of a traumatic
event that never happened.
Loftus recruited 24 students and their close family members for her 1995
study "The Formation of False Memories." She asked each family member
to provide her with three real childhood memories for their student, and then
sent these memories in a packet, along with one false memory, to the study
participants. The false memories were about getting lost on a shopping trip and
included real details, such as the name of a store where they often shopped and
siblings they were likely with.
The
students were told all four memories were real and had been supplied by their
family member. After receiving the packet, the students identified whether they
remembered each event and how confident they were that it had happened to them.
In follow-up interviews the researchers asked them to recall details from the
events they remembered.
Seven of the 24 students "remembered" the false event in their
packets. Several recalled and added their own details to the memory.
"It was pretty exciting to watch these normal, healthy individuals
pick up on the suggestions in our interviews, and pick up the false information
that we fed them," Loftus says.
Loftus continued her experiments, convincing
study participants they had broken a window with their hand, witnessed a drug
bust, choked on an object before the age of 3 and had experienced other
traumatic events. And she continued to testify in cases involving repressed
memories.
"I don't think there's any credible, scientific support for this
notion of massive repression," Loftus says. "It's been my position
that, you know, we may one day find (the evidence), but until we do, we
shouldn't be locking people up."
Unhealthy habits
Loftus soon began to wonder if she could
influence other behaviors. What if she could convince people they had a
negative experience with unhealthy food as a child? Would they eat less of it
as an adult?
Using her finely tuned "recipe" for memory implantation, she
guided study participants to believe they had gotten sick eating strawberry ice
cream as children.
A
week later, researchers asked about the ice cream incident. Many participants
had developed a detailed memory -- what Loftus calls a "rich false
memory" -- about when they had gotten sick.
Subsequent studies showed this
memory affected the participant's actual eating behavior.
It
seemed obvious to Loftus that there was potential here to fight obesity.
Therapists couldn't lie to their patients, but parents could convince kids that
they didn't like ice cream or other fattening foods. Critics raged that she was
advocating lying to children.
"Which would you rather have?" Loftus replied simply. "A
kid with obesity, heart problems, shortened lifespan, diabetes -- or maybe a
little bit of false memory?"
Schacter, who also studies memory, objects to the term "playing
around" with someone's mind. He, Loftus and others like them are simply
trying to understand what's going on in our memories, he says. "We're
assessing the limits of memory, the accuracy of memory. ... Almost by
definition we think we're remembering accurately, even though we're not."
Already this year Loftus has co-authored studies on false memories
related to alcohol, politics andstressful events. In one, called "Queasy
Does It," Loftus' team took the same methods they used to persuade people
to eat less ice cream and applied them to vodka or rum. Loftus says this
research could potentially be used to help addicts in the future.
Her
lab at the University of California Irvine is also working to identify the
individual differences that make people more or less susceptible to memory
alteration.
Sometime Loftus worries about crossing into unethical territory -- like
when she created false memories in military personnel who were training to
survive as prisoners of war. When the study published, she feared "we were
going to basically be giving (our enemies) a recipe for how to do bad things to
other people and then contaminate their memory."
But
as a scientist, she says sharing how to implant memories -- so we can
potentially learn how to protect against it -- is better than burying the
information.
Walking the line
In
2006, Loftus attended a talk by legal scholar Adam Kolber on the legal and
ethical implications of memory-dampening drugs. According to Kolber,
neuroscientists had made significant strides in creating medications victims
could take after a traumatic event to dampen the intensity of their memories.
Kolber contended that while those drugs could hamper legal proceedings,
"We have a deeply personal interest in controlling our own minds that
entitles us to a certain freedom of memory."
Loftus was fascinated. "I thought to myself, 'I would want (the
drugs),'" she says. Her colleague disagreed. So like any good experimental
psychologist, Loftus started a study.
She
asked people if they were the victim of a vicious crime, would they want to
take the drug? Eighty percent said no. Well, maybe they want to be able to
testify against the perpetrator, Loftus thought. So she ran it again -- this
time asking if they would take the drug after seeing their military buddy blown
up by an IED overseas. Eighty percent refused.
"I thought, maybe I need to explain to them just how bad
post-traumatic stress disorder is," she remembers. So she did. "And
they still don't want the drug."
The
results taught Loftus just how much people cherish their memories.
"Even if it's going to be a harmful memory, they don't want to let
it go," she says. "(This is) why sometimes I get such resistance to
the work I do. Because it's telling people that your mind might be full of much
more fiction than you realize. And people don't like that."
But
you don't need a psychological researcher to distort your memory in a lab,
Loftus says. People distort their own memories all the time -- they remember
getting better grades than they did, voting in more elections than they did,
having kids that walked or talked earlier than they actually did. Loftus calls
this "prestige-enhancing memories."
We
all want to remember ourselves as just a little bit better than we really are,
Loftus says, and that's not necessarily a bad thing. Scientists call it
"depressive realism," and say depressed people may just remember
things more accurately than the rest of us.
"A little bit of memory distortion might be good for people,"
Loftus says.
This from the woman who has the power to make us remember traumatic
childhood events that never happened. Hey, at least we still like ice cream.