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The
Selected
Writings
of
A.R.Luria
 The
Selected
Writings
of
A.R.Luria

EDITED WITH AN INTRODUCTION BY

Michael Cole

M. E. Sharpe INC.
WHITE PLAINS, NEW YORK
Copyright © 1978 by M. E. Sharpe, Inc.
901 North Broadway, White Plains, New York 10603
This anthology is drawn from Soviet Psychology, Soviet Neurology & Psy­
chiatry, and Soviet Psychology & Psychiatry, quarterly journals published by
M. E. Sharpe, Inc. (formerly International Arts and Sciences Press, Inc.).
Translations ©1964, 1967, 1968, 1974, 1976 by International Arts and
Sciences Press, Inc.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form
without permission of the pul:ilisher.
Articles beginning on pages 3, 45, 78, 145, 229 and 319 are published by arrange­
ment with VAAP, the Soviet Copyright Agency.

Library of Congress Catalog Card Number: 78-64342

International Standard Book Number: 0-87332-127-8

Printed in the United States of America

 CONTENTS

vii Introduction
Michael Cole

I. Early beginnings

3 Psychoanalysis as a System of Monistic Psychology

A. R. Luria

II. Developmental studies

45 A Child' s Speech Responses and the Social Environment

A. R. Luria

78 E xperimental Psychology and Child Development

A. R. Luria

97 Paths of Development o f Thought in the Child

A. R. Luria

145 The Development of Writing in the Child

A. R. Luria

195 The Development o f Constructive Activity in the

Pre school Child
A. R. Luria

229 The Formation of Voluntary Movements in Children

of Pre school Age
0. K. Tikhomirov
 III. N europsychology

273 L . S. Vygotsky and the Problem of Functional

L ocalization
A. R. Luria

282 Two Approaches to an Evaluation of the Reliability

of Psychological Investigations
A. R. Luria and E . Yu. Artem' eva

294 Disturbance of Intellectual Functions in Patients

with Frontal Lobe Lesions
A. R. Luria and L . S. Tzvetkova

302 Neuropsychological Analysis of the Predicative

Structure of Utterances
A. R. Luria and L. S. Tzvetkova

3 19 Syndromes of Mnemonic Disorders Ac com panying

Diencephalic Tumors
A. R. Luria, N. K. Kiyashchenko, L. I. Moskovichyute ,
T. 0. Faller, and N. A. Fillippycheva

330 E ye -Movement Mechanisms in Normal and

Pathological Visi on
A. R. Luria, E . N. Pravdina-Vinarskaya, and
A. L . Iarbus
 INTRODUCTION

The art ic les in this volume are a samp le of the ideas con­
structed and facts c ollected by Alexander Romanovich Luria
( 1902 -19 77 ) during more than half a century of psychological re ­
search . I bec ame ac quainted with parts of the work during the
late 19 50s . I studied with Luria in 1962 -6 3 and at various other
periods in the last 15 years . Despite th is long assoc iation, the
scope of his contributions to our understanding of human nature
has been difficult for me to grasp . "Half a century" is an easy
enough concept to understand formally , but the living substance
of the phrase when applied to a sc ientist's work is rarely, if
eve r, accessible to others . The expos ition that follows is cer­
tain ly inc omplete and probably inaccurate; it is the best that the
facts at hand will permit.
Alexande r Romanovich began his profess ional era at a tumul­
tuous moment in human history. The Bolshevik Revolution had
inte rrupted his high-school c are e r, in the provinc ial Russian
c ommercial cente r of K azan . Changes in educational regula­
tions and cu rricula left him free to acc ele rate his pas sage
through the acc rediting process, and w ithin three years he had
c omp leted the formal requirements for a college degree .
With little guidance from a facu lty in disarray ( owing to the
abrupt change in the inte llectual and political c limate ) , Luria
was allowed to fashion his own education. The product may not
have been ideally systematic, but it rep resented a fasc inating
amalgam of the leading ideas in the soc ial sc iences of the times .
Luria was interested in Utop ian soc ialism and , particularly,

vii
viii Michael C ole

the pr oblem of change : What was the source of ideas about so­
ciety ? How can one use such ideas to bring about social change ?
His social thinking (and hence the medium for his social activi­
tie s) was , from the beginning, focused on the individual. How
can the individual be linked to larger social units ?
In his search for an answer to this questi on, Luria was drawn
to read the ne o-Kantian social -science philosophers of the late
19th century - Dilthey, Richert, and Windelbandt, for whom the
relationship between psychology and history was a pi votal issue .
Although Wundt had set up a psychol ogy laboratory i n 1880, there
was nothing approaching a consensus about what kind of science
psychol ogy could, in principle, represent. E ven Wundt, who
maintained that the experimental method was an appropriate tool
of psychol ogy, did not believe that laboratory methods were ap­
propriate to all aspe cts of the science. Rather, experimental
methods could be used to study only elementary psychological
processes; fol klore and ethnography had to be relied upon to
supply information about higher psychological functions.
Dilthey and his colleagues were not willing to concede this in­
terpretation of either part of Wundt's enterpris e . One of their
central questi ons was what kind of laws were possible from the
study of human psychological processes. Should one strive for
general ("nomothetic") laws that des cribe "Man" but are unable
to account for the specific behaviors of any individual "man" ?
This was the model of the natural sciences (Naturwi ssenschaf­
ten) and the model adopted by Wundt for the study of sensory
processes . Or should psychol ogy attempt only to des cribe the
intricate complex reality of individ uals , providing "idiographic"
accounts in the tradition of the humane sciences (Geisteswis­
sens chaften) such as history ?
Luria' s interest in these matters was not narr owly academic.
Ca ught up in the romantic enthusiasm of the re vol uti on, he sought
a scientific basis for infl uencing human affair s . Perhaps for
this reason, he was not satisfied with the choice between an idi­
ographic, des criptive psychology and a nomothetic, generalizing
psychology. The generalizing, "scientific" psychol ogy of Wundt,
Brentano, and other laboratory psychologi sts seemed too remote
Introduction ix

from any real-life process that one could observe outside the
laboratory. It was bloodless, artificial, and of no use whatever
in dealing with the problems facing humanity.
But the neo-Kantians offered no usable alte rnative. They
could, to be sure , provide much m ore illuminating des criptions
of re cognizable psychological processes. But their method left
them hand cuffed as scientists ; they could not lawfully influence
the objects of obse rvations. They were helpless to initiate or
guide change .
What the situation seemed to require was a new kind of psy­
chology that could deal with the richness of individual psycho­
logical experience but admit of generalizations of the sort that
m ade the natural sciences powerful. For several years psycho­
analysis seemed to Luria a promising basis on which to found
the kind of psychology he sought. Freud ' s writings were the
s ource of many interesting hypotheses about the motivat ional
s ource s of behavior, but his hypothe ses about various symbolic
processes seemed overly abstract and difficult to study by ob ­
jective means. Jung's studies using the free -association method,
however, appeared a promising tool that could make the motiva­
ti onal determinants of individual beha vior acces sible to analysis.
By elaborating the bas ic free-associat ion technique, Luria hoped
to create an experimental science of individual mental life , a
science that would be both idiographic and nomothetic.
These early spe culations about the future direction of psychol­
ogy we re never published , although Luria prepared a manuscript
on the subje ct, when he was 19 years old , that he kept throughout
his career. They did, however, guide his ea rly clinical and ex­
perimental work. He spent time at Kazan' s psychiatric hospital,
where, using Jung's free-association method, he interviewed pa­
tients . Accepting a position in a laboratory de voted to in creas­
ing the efficiency of industrial workers, he carried out studies
of the effe ct of fatigue on mental acti vity. It was in the course
of this work that he developed the first, rudimenta ry te chniques
for combining experimental procedures with the free-as socia­
tion technique; he used an old Hipp chronoscope to meas ure the
reaction time of worke rs, at different levels of fatigue, who were
x Michael Cole

as ked to ass ociate to various verbal stimul i.

This very early activity would be of l ittle inte rest if it were
not so clearly and generall y reflected in L uria ' s later work; but
as the articles colle cted here atte st, the basic techniques Luria
devel oped while still a student were retained and applied through
all the many phases of his career .
1923 was a turning point for Soviet psychol ogy, a turning point
that affected Luria almost immediately. Until that year, aca­
demic ps ychol ogy remained relatively unaffected by the October
Re vol ution. The leading Russ ian psychol ogist was G. I. Chelpa­
nov, who had been the director of the Institute of Ps ychol ogy in
Mos cow since its founding in 1911. Chelpanov was a ps ychol o­
gist in the tradition of Wundt and T itchener, a "brass instru -
. ment" psychologist for whom introspect ion under highly con ­
trolled conditions provided the essential data of ps ychology.
His institute p ursued pretty much of the same is sues, by the
same techniques, as those pursued in m any laboratories in
Germany and the United States .
B y 1923 this appr oach t o ps ychol ogy was under attack for a
number of reas ons, many of which were similar to the reas ons
used in arguments against similar approaches to ps ychol ogy in
the United States . Introspection ist ps ychology was criticized
for its methodological shortcom ings; different laboratories
could not agree on bas ic elements produced by trained intro­
spectors . Arguments about the existence or nonexistence of
imageless thought and "determining tendencies" had prod uced
sufficient theoretical chaos to make many ps ychologists recep­
tive to Watson's call for a ps ychol ogy of behavior that eschewed
the concept of conscious experience altogether . There was also
widespread dissat isfaction with the ver y narrow l imits of intro­
spective ps ychol ogy; it could not incl ude the study of small chil­
dren, of mental patients , or of people engaged in prod uctive ac­
tivity. T o these complaints Soviet critics added the charge that
introspective psychology was neither materialist nor Marxist.
The is sue of the proper framewor k for Soviet ps ychology, es­
pe cially for its titular leader, Chelpanov, came to a head at the
F irst Psychone urological Congre ss , held in Leningrad in 1923 .
Introduction xi

Chelpanov tried to de fend the activities of hi s institute . He eve n

admitted a role to Marxism as a set of ideas applicable to the
social organization of human activity. His defense failed , and
he was removed from his post and replaced by K. N. Kornilov,
a former schoolteacher from Siberia, who had been on the staff
of Chelpanov' s i nstitute for several years.
Kornilov was an advocate of a kind of obje ctive psychology
that was similar in many re spects to Watson' s behaviorism, al­
though he did not reje ct discussion of mental states in the same ,
thoroughgoing way as Watson. Kornilov called his approach
"reactology, " which he took to mean the study of mental effort
as reflected in peripheral motor activity. He "measured" men­
tal effort by studying the reaction time and strength of simple
m otor re sponses, assuming that the more strength spent on the
motor component of a response, the less remaining for the
"mental" component. Confirmation of this generalization was
see n in the fact that the strength of simple reactions was greater
than the strength of complex reactions. Kornilov pointed to his
method as manifestl y a materialist interpretation of mind; and
with this achievement as a rallying point, he was able to gather
a group of young scholars to undertake the re construction of
psychol ogy along materialist and, he asserted, Marxist lines.
One of those invited to the institute in Moscow was A. R. Luria,
whose research on worker fati gue using reaction-time methods
made him a pioneer reactologist in Kornilov's eyes.
The essay in the first section of this collection date s from
this ver y early period in the history of Soviet psychology (and
Luria ' s scientific career), whe n the proper subject matter and
theoretical stance of psychol ogy in the USSR were very m uch a
subject of debate . Only a ver y few pr opositions were generall y
accepted: Psychology should be an objective science, based
wherever feasible on experimental methods; it should be consis­
te nt with the principles of Marxist dialectical materialism .
Agreeing on the se principles and implementing them turned
out to be two ver y distinct tasks. It was not clear what ideas
and techniques from previous psychological research could be
retained. Neither was it clear what Marxist writing implied for
xii Michael Cole

psychology (a problem that existed for many branches of Soviet

science, and was to be the source of repeated di sputes over the
years). In this atmosphere of uncertainty and change, a wide
variety of scientific programs were offered, among them Luria's
suggestion that psychoanalysis be used as a model upon which
to build a materialist, Marxist psychology. Although thi s sug ­
gestion did not prevail, the terms i n which Luria m ade it are
c learly prophetic of both hi s own later work and those influen­
tial movements in psychology that attempted to i nc orporate psy­
choanalytic notions of m otivation into experimental psychology.
The publication in which "Psychoanalysi s as a system of mo­
nistic psychology" appeared, P sychology and Marxism, c ontained
papers from the Second Psychoneurological C ongress. K ornilov,
who wrote the lead essay, was its editor . Thi s volume c ontained
contributions from several branches of psychology, all of them
offering programs of research for a reconstructed Soviet p sy­
chology. Most interesti ng from the vantage point of history was
an essay by a former schoolteacher, Lev Semyonovitch Vygotsky,
who had begun to do research on problems of education, especial­
ly education of the handicapped and retarded. On the basis of
his prese ntation, which treated consciousness as the internalized
modes of behavior from one's social environment, Vygotsky was
invited to join the staff of Kornilov's i nstitute . This event be ­
came the central organizing point of the remainder of Luria's
scientific career.
Although Vygotsky became a m ajor figure in Luria's life al­
most from the outset of their acquai ntance, his i nfluence on
Luria's research and writing came about more slowly . There
were reasons for a gradual, rather than an abrupt, change in the
c ourse of research . As the i nitial essay in this volume suggests,
Luria had already evolved a rationale for research, which was
op 'erative when he met Vygotsky at the beginning of 192 4 . The
extent of the research completed by Luria and his c olleagues i n
the early 1920s is difficult t o judge, bec ause there were few
journal outlets for Soviet psychologists (Luria enjoyed telling
how he got the paper for printing re search c arried out i n Kazan
from a soap factory); but Luria's ( 19 32 ) m onograph The nature
Introducti on xiii

of human conflicts contains several studie s that appear to have

been carried out in 1923 and 1924 . (That monograph is worth
reading both for the intrinsic interest of the resear ch it reports
and for fascinating glimpses into the history of L uria's career
and Soviet psychol ogy.) The earl y chapters explain "the com­
bined motor method, " in which the subje ct had to carr y out a
simple movement in response to verbal stimuli while reaction
time and the dynamics of the movement were bei ng re corded.
Using this technique, Luria (assisted by Alexei N. Le ont'ev, his
lifel ong colleague and current Dean of the Psychology Faculty
at Mosc ow University) studied the influence of motive s on the
organization of voluntar y motor activity. This academic re­
search was carried out in such real-life settings as a purge of
Mosc ow University (where stude nts with inadequate academic
records or "undesirable " family backgr ounds were appearing
before a board of examiners). It not onl y was relevant to an ex­
perime ntal psychoanal ysis (an idea Luria was no l onger pur su­
i ng whe n the book was written i n 193 0 ) but had promi sing poten­
tial for application, which Luria pur sued in the criminal justice
system, where he devel oped the combined- motor method into the
prototype of the modern lie detector . The very popularity of the
research seems to have exte nded his participation in it.
It i s important to keep in mind that when Vygotsky appeared
on the sce ne he was still a very you ng man, a 26 - year- old who
had been a phil ol ogi st until a ver y few years earlier, whe n his
attention was drawn to pr oblems of psychol ogy. By no means
was the sociohistorical school of psychology he pioneered a fin­
i shed product. It was no more than a schema, a point of view
that had to be fleshed out in the or y and experime ntal practi ce.
In the year s between 1924 and 1934 (when Vygotsky died of tuber­
culosis) the "troika" of Vygot sky, Le ont' ev, and Luria began to
c arry out its rec onstruction of psychology from first principles.
It was a slow task, and Luria was not a m an to put all else
aside while waiting for new ideas to ripe n when he had not fin­
i shed harvesting the fruits of his previous labor . Instead, he
seems to have applied his pr odigous energy to both tasks simul­
tane ously: he continued to extend his original methods to new
xiv Michael C ole

problems while sl owl y changing their conte nt and contexts to i n­

corporate the ideas that were growing out of the continuous i n­
teractions with Vygotsky.
It i s within this context that the e ssays in the second se ction
of this book should be read. Pr ogressively, as the years pass,
we can see the ce ntral ideas of the sociocultural approach com­
ing to dominate Luria's research.
The fir st e ssay in this section reports one of several large
research projects using the free-association te chnique to deter­
mine how a child's social environme nt affects the form and con­
tent of his/her linguistic and cognitive proce sse s. In thi s use
of the free- association technique, Luria is applying his notion
that Jung's method for studying the dynamics of individual be­
havior can also reveal social determinants of me ntal life . But
the theoretical rati onale for thi s work no l onger retai ns any
refere nces to Jung (in part, most likely, because Luria was se­
verely criticized for hi s earlier advocacy of psychoanal ytic
ideas). Instead, we see the prototype of ideas that were to be
made famous by Vygotsky in his book Thought and language ,
fir st published in 1934 : language is the product of sociohistori­
cal circumstances and the forms of i nteracti on between child
and adult; it is a vital tool of thought and is susceptible to spe­
cific influence s, which differ i n their cognitive impact depe nd­
ing on the social context in which the y are imbedded.
Perhaps be cause the se ideas have remained ver y much alive
in our own psychol ogical tradition, the research Luria reported
retains considerable relevance . His i nsi stence that the street
urchin is not ge nerall y more backward, but certainl y less edu­
cated, than children raised i n normal familie s is as contempo­
rary as any current jour nal article discussing the education of
"culturall y different" children ("He is not m ore backward than
the school child . . . He is just different. . . . "). Hi s demonstration
that a give n child will be at different "stage s of de vel opme nt"
with respect to familiar and abstract (school -based) words and
that schooling "levels" differe nt cultural experie nces i s an ex­
tremel y important finding that seems to have bee n l ost by the
time cross- cultural research came i nto vogue in the 1960s.
Introduction xv

The next two articles in this section review re search on intel­

lectual devel opme nt in children as it was then being carried out
in the Soviet Union, Western Europe, and America . It was char­
ac teristic of both Luria and Vygotsky that they attempted to
place their resear ch within the general circle of c ontemporary
scientific ideas influencing psychol ogy. In order to be maximal­
l y per suasive, the y sought to demonstrate both the correctness
of their own approach and the points where it made contact with
(and then diverged from) the ideas of their contemporaries.
These articles show, even more clearl y than previously trans­
lated works, Luria' s earl y and pervasive intere st in the devel­
opment of behavior . They show, too, the strong influe nce of
Piaget, Wer ner, Karl and Charl otte B uhler, and William Stern,
both as positive contributor.s to an eve ntual psychol ogy of higher
psychol ogical functions and as foil s against which Luria, Vygot­
sky, and their colleagues pitted their own theories.
Of special interest in terms of current research is Luria's
report on the devel opme nt of writing, a topic that has emerged
in the mid- 1 970s as a major area of concer n in educational re­
search and practice . Hi s study of writte n language represe nts
a rejection of notions (such as De Saussure's) that writing is
simpl y language written down or the conte ntion of the Prague
linguistic cir cle that writing is merel y the graphic repre se nta­
tion of language elements that are reacted to i n a static way for
purposes that are almost e ntirel y re stricted to la nguage' s com­
municative function. Rather, he subsumes language under the
general categor y of a mediated psychol ogical activity whose
specifics are determined by the activities that implement the
purposes of writing in the first place . Thus, instead of begin­
ning with a study of writing as a way of repre senting language,
Luria traces the "prehi story" of writing back to primitive m ne ­
m onic activities whose purpose i s the represe ntation of past
eve nts in the pre se nt. This approach to writing (see also Vygot­
sky' s article "The prehistory of writte n language s, " i n Vygotsky,
1 97 8 ) suggests intere sting ways to i ntroduce writing into young
childre n' s school activities and serve s the more general purpose
of m otivating studies of the relation betwee n writing and talking
xvi Michael Cole

in the course of human development.

The next e ssay in this second section is a de scription of one
of a serie s of studies Luria and his colleagues carried out with
identical and frater nal twins during the mid- 193 0 s. Ver y little
of this work was published in either Russian or E nglish. In 193 5
and 1936 a few articles were published in the Works of the Med­
ical- Genetic Institute (the institution in which the work was car­
ried out); and one article, on the comparative devel opme nt of
eleme ntary and complex mental functions in twins, was published
in the now-defunct American journal Character and Personality
(Luria, 193 7). With the exception of the curre nt c ontribution, it
was not until the late 1950s that more acce ssible accounts of thi s
work appeared in Russian; and when the y did, the study of twins
.as a means of differe ntiating biologicall y and culturall y deter­
mined psychological pr ocesse s (which was the impetus for the
work) had disappeared e ntirely. In keeping with this de-empha­
sis on the significance of twins in c ognitive resear ch, no men­
tion is made i n the title of the article of the fact that the subjects
in Luria's studies of constructive play were ide ntical twins. Se­
lecting them for study is justified onl y on the grounds that their
ide ntical heredity and similar home e nvironments make it easier
to discer n the effects of planned e nvironmental (educational ) in­
terve ntion.
This discussion of constructive play is an excelle nt example
of the way in which L uria linked basic, theoreticall y orie nted
re search with problems of broad social c oncer n. The article
appeared in a publication devoted to educational applications of
research, and L uria place s the proble m squarel y in the context
of conflicting programs of pedagogy. But the interve ntion ex­
periment he de scribes is firml y r ooted in the sociohistorical
theory of mental development. This is e vident in his discussion
of the c onceptual underpinnings of the different approache s to
organizing pre school curricul um units devoted to c onstructive
activities. In his rejection of the highl y structured approach
attributed to Monte ssori and her foll ower s or re sort to totally
unguided free construction, we see reflected Vygotsky' s insis­
tence on a distinction betwee n ele mentary functions, i nvoluntari-
Introduction xvii

l y applied, and higher functions that incorporate planning ele­

ments in a deliberate manner. It i s the task of the educator to
create an environment to move the child from the spontaneous
applicati on of elementary skill s to the deliberate application of
higher, analytic skill s. The te st of the e ffectiveness of such a
program of instructi on is m ore than the satisfactor y completi on
of the instructi onal task itself. If the educational pr ogram is
reall y suc ce ssful, it will re sult in qualitative changes in the
structure of the child' s activity in a variety of seemingl y remote
tasks that, theory dictates, bear a specific analogy to the in ­
structional tasks. The latter part of the paper, which assesses
the children' s ability to handle a variety of perceptual and clas­
sificator y tasks, repre sents the more general test of the conse­
quences of differential tuition in the block-building task, and a
te st of the basic theor y as wel l.
The final article in secti on two is the onl y selecti on in this
vol ume not written by Luria. Rather, it represents one of the
seminal piece s of re search in his well- known program of ex­
periments on the rol e of speech in the deve lopment of mental
pr oce sse s, which was initiated in the late 1940s and carried into
the late 1950s. The contributi on here is by Ole g K. Tikhomirov,
a student of Luria' s who is currentl y on the faculty of Moscow
University.
The reader will quickl y discern that the data base and the o­
retical terminol ogy in this article repre sent a sharp departure
from the earlier contributions in this section of the vol ume . The
data consist of kymographic recordings of the simple motor re­
sponses of very young children, along with their elementary ver­
bal re sponses to instructions by adults. The language is largel y
Pavlovian, providing a de scription of the children' s behavior in
terms of interactions between hypothetical inhibitor y and excit­
atory proce sse s taking place in the nervous systems of individ­
ual subjects. But the true conceptual di sc ontinuity with the ear­
lier articles is not so great as these difference s suggest. In­
stead we see a highl y skilled and imaginative effort on Luria' s
part to mold the style of hi s research to the social /political
realitie s within which he worked.
xviii Michael C ole

Already in the article on constructive play we see change s i n

style of exposition in compari son with earlier sele ctions: there
are fewer explicit reference s to foreign authors, alm ost all of
which are polemical, and a general down-playing of the links be­
tween this work and efforts to devel op the sociohistorical ap­
proach to higher psychological functions. Indeed, the ce ntral
role of Vygotsky in providing the conceptual foundations of thi s
later work is by no means clear . The se changes reflect the fact
that the adherents of the sociohistorical school, Luria and Vy­
gotsky in particular , had been severel y criticized in the earl y
and mid- 193 0s. The se criticisms arose from at least two
sources: unhappiness with carele ss application of standardized
ability tests (whi ch Vygotsky and Luria str ongl y disapproved of,
but which they were accused of fostering via Vygotsky' s associ­
ation with the Institute of Pedology), .and di sagreement about the
significance of observations that L uria had made in Central Asia
concerning the intellectual change s wr ought by the introduction of
literacy and collectivization (see Luria, 1976 ). Between 1934 and
1956 , Vygotsky' s writings were generall y unavailabl e in the USSR.
During the first decade of this period, there was a general
hiatus in psychol ogical publicati ons, owi ng both to the offi cial
di sfavor into which psychol ogy in general, and the sociohistori­
cal approach in particular, had falle n and to the crisis of World
War II, during which psychol ogists contributed their skill s to the
war e ffort.
In the late 194 0s psychol ogy again came under attack, b ut this
time in a way that involved the direct and active intervention of
the Ce ntral Committee of the Communist Party and its chairman,
Joseph Stalin. Thi s is not the place to review the reasons for
Stalin's interest in psychology or its overall impact on the sci­
e nce (see, for example, Graham, 1972 , or Tucker, 196 3 ). It suf­
fices to say that Stalin strongl y favored adoption of Pavl ovian
psychophysiol ogy as a model upon which all of psychology should
be built. All other approache s were considered errone ous, and
their adherents were put under tremendous pre ssure to renounce
their previous activities and join in the reconstruction of psy­
chol ogy along Pavl ovian line s.
Introduction xix

Luria was not exempted from this general requirement, all the
more so since he had been ass ociated with a school of ps ychol­
ogy that had come u nder special scr utiny in the past . From ap­
proximatel y 193 7 through 194 7 he left the study of cognitive de­
velopment and embarked on a career as a neurologist (the fruits
of this work are surveyed in the third section of this book).
About 194 8 , however, he was told to leave the Institute of Neuro­
surgery, where he had been working for several years, and was
assigned to the Institute of Defe ctol ogy, an institution that had
been founded by Vygotsky about twenty years earlier. There he
turned once again to the problems that had occupied him earlier
in his career, b ut it was not possible to approach them in the
style he had come to adopt i n the 193 0 s .
What Luria fashioned was an experimental approach that has
its cl osest parallel in studies contained in The nature of human
conflicts, but with a conceptual structure that grew directl y out
of the basic principles of the sociohistorical school and a lan­
guage that was thoroughl y Pavl ovian. Thus, the basic method is
the c ombined- m otor method, but with a ver y careful concentra­
ti on on the way the verbal and m otor components of a child' s re­
sponse e nter into complex functi onal systems to enable the child
to meet the requireme nts of the task. Critical here is the issue
of whether speech c omes to pre cede and guide the motor re­
sponse (which is possible onl y whe n its excitator y and i nhibitory
c omponents are well i ntegrated) or whether it onl y accompanies
action. This issue has its direct parallel in the studies of writ­
ing, c arried out 2 0 years earlier, in which it was important
to discern when the child' s writing came to precede and guide
his activity instead of following or accompanying it.
It is somewhat ir oni c that this work, which in some respe cts
camouflaged Luria' s mai n lines of concern, generated e normous
interest in his work among American psychol ogists. One cannot
be certain, but I suspect that the Pavlovian framework L uria
used to describe and m otivate this work, espe ciall y the promise
that reflex theories could be extended to the study of language
(Pavl ov' s "second-signal system") were the c ause of the work 's
popularity in the United States. The late 1950s a nd earl y 196 0s
xx Michael Cole

were the high watermark of neobehaviori st theorizing about lan­

guage, and many psychol ogists found an obvious parallel between
Luria' s view that language response s come to mediate motor re ­
sponse s and various line s of mediational stimul us-response the­
ories that had been elaborated he re on the conditioning models
of Hull , Spence, and Skinner. This was also the pe riod when ex­
perie ntial studies of childre n' s intellectual devel opment within
a learning-theory tradition were just beginning to come into
vogue, and Luria ' s ideas about the role of speech in this process
were exceedingl y congenial .
B ut as events turned out, no soone r did. Ame rican and E nglish
psychologists "discover" Luria than he reverted to the line of
work that forms section three of this book and that oc cupied
most of his working career betwee n 1 93 7 and his death in 1 977 -
the study of the brain' s organization of higher psychological
functions. During the last de cade and a hal f of his life he pub­
lished several books summarizing his work on this topic, a body
of learning he liked to call neuropsychology.
Although Luria did not complete his medical training and start
to specialize in neurology until 19 37-38, i nvolvement in medicine
began when he was an undergraduate in Kazan. Luria' s father,
who became a prominent physician foll owing the revol ution, had
wanted his son to be a doctor from the outset, and was not par­
ticularl y happy when Luria failed to c omplete his medical train­
ing before moving to Moscow. Luria did begin hi s medical train­
ing in Kazan, and he retaine d an active interest in the analytic
pote ntial of pathological cases for illuminating gene ral psycho­
l ogical functions. He completed his medical degree in 1 93 7 .
But except for limited studies conducted in the late 1920s t o test
certain implications of Vygotsky' s theories, he unde rtook little
systematic research in clinical neuropsychology until after the
outbreak of the war.
So many vol umes of L uria' s research in neuropsychol ogy have
appeared i n E nglish during re ce nt years that systematic cover­
age in a book such as this would be impossible . The selections
we have chosen give the flavor, but neither the breadth nor depth,
of his effort to use experimental /clinical neuropsychol ogy as a
I ntroduction xxi

basi c tool of psychological analysis.

The first article in the third section of the book begins, very
fittingly, with an overview of Vygotsky's the ory and its implica­
tions for the study of brain-behavior relations. This article
certainl y deserves study by anyone interested in Luria's ap­
proach to neuropsychology (and, I would argue, anyone interested
in the study of human cognition) because it lays out in capsule
form his general enterprise, of which neuropsychology was onl y
one aspect . It is, in fact, as fitting a summar y of the se cond
section, on c ognitive devel opment, as it is an introduction to the
third section, on ne uropsychology.
This suggestion is completel y consistent with Vygotsky's view
that "localization of higher nervous functions can be understood
only chronologically, as the result of mental deve lopment.''
American colleagues hav� often bridled at Luria's characteriza­
tion of their neuropsychology as "atheoretical . " The y correctl y
point to the the ories of brain function that guide their work and
their meti culous attempts to establish the reliability and validity
of their tests. Unfortunately, L uria and his Western counter­
parts never reall y understood each other on this point. Luria's
summary of Vygotsky's views (which he had a large role in
shaping) makes it c lear that his idea of theory is an enterprise
infinitely more ambitious than all those undertaken by any but a
handful of p sychologists from other c ountries. He often said that
in order to have a theory of brain-behavior relations, it is ne c­
e ssar y to have a theory of both the brain and behavior. As the
remaining articles in this section indicate, Luria, like his col­
leagues, c oncerned himself with the minutiae of experimental
detail . What the introductory arti cle on Vygotsky makes clear
is that all of the detail work was done in a ceaseless effort to
carry out a bold program conceived in the enthusiasm of youth,
his own and his government ' s.

Reference s

Graham, L . R. Science and philosophy in the Soviet Union.

New York: K nopf, 1972�
xxii Michael Cole

Luria, A. R. The nature of human conflicts. New York:

Li veright, 193 2 .
Luria, A. R. The devel opme nt of mental functions i n twins.
Character and personality, 1936 - 3 7, �' 3 5-4 7.
Luria, A. R. Cognitive development. Cambridge, Mass.:
Harvard University Press, 1976 .
Tucker, R. C. The Soviet political mind. New York:
Praeger, 1963 .
Vygotsky, L. S. Thought and language. Cambridge, Mass.:
MIT Press, 196 7.
Vygotsky, L. S. Mind in Society ( M. Cole, V. John- Steiner,
S. Scribner, & E . Souberman [ Eds. ] ) . Cambridge, Mass.:
Harvard University Press, 1978.

Michael Cole
PART ONE

Early
Beginnings
A. R. Luria

PSYCHOANALYSIS AS A SYSTEM
OF MONISTIC PSYCHOLOGY

Every major scientific achievement, regardless of the sci­

ence in which it oc curs, always introduces a number of new
methodological principles that al so become binding for any oth­
er, related domain of inquiry.
After Comte ' s work in positive philosophy, uncritical appli­
cation of me taphysical principles in s cientifi c investigation be­
came impossible. The dynamic principle presented in the works
of Darwin, replacing the earlier, static view that the various
specie s had an unchanging, self- contained existence, subsequent­
ly became binding on all biological s ciences .
Even maj or achievements concerning narrower problem s
have had an influence on the evolution of the set of principles
that we may call the leading methodology and that are binding

From K. P. Kornilov (Ed.) Psikhologiya i Marksizm [ Psy­

chology and Marxism ] . Leningrad: Gosizdat, 192 5. Pp. 4 7 -80 .
This paper also constitutes the first chapter of a book enti­
tled [ Principles of psychoanalysis and modern materialism ] .
[ Editor's note: This book was never written. ]
Russian editor ' s note : The que stion of the relationship of
some aspe cts of Freud' s theory to Marxism has been, and re­
mains, a much disputed one . This paper . . . considers the meet­
ing points of the two systems.

3
4 A. R. Luria

in equal measure on all sciences of the epoch. Pavlov's work

on conditioned reflexes, the latest studies of endocrine activity,
Einstein's theories based on his analysis of the speed of light
- all these achievements share the basic methodological pos­
tulates of the period. Marxism, which aside from being a
revolutionary doctrine is a tremendous scientific achievement
in its own right, has been especially valuable for its methodol­
ogy, which first entered s cience under the term dialectical
materialism, and may now be considered as absolutely bind­
ing on many related fields of knowledge. We believe , there ­
fore, that the methodology of dialectical materialism may
be demanded not only of economics and the social s ci ences
but of the biosocial (and this includes psychology) and bio­
logical s ciences as well . Dialectical materialism rests on
two major premises, forming one strong fundament and com­
ing together in a resolute determination to study obje ctively,
with a sharp line drawn between the i maginary and the real ,
the true relationships among perceivable events; and this
means to study them not abstractly, but just as they are in
reality, to study them in such a way that the knowledge we
acquire will help us later to exert an active influence on them.
This last practical touch has had an extremely salubrious
effect on all of Marxist philosophy and has helped it formulate
two postulates that today are fundamental and applicable to all
positive s ciences . The first of these is materialist moni s m ,
which constitutes th e basis for any approach to the phenomena
of nature and society.
Marxism regards as absolutely false the distinction, culti­
vated by idealistic philosophy, between two fundamentally
unique classes of phenomena having different origins, such as,
for example, mind and matter, substance and spirit, etc. For
Marxism the only possible point of view is that the world is
one, that it is a single system of material processes, and that
the mental life of human beings is only one of its many aspe cts ;
for Marxism, the human mind is a product .of the activity of the
brain and, in the final analysis, of the effects of the social en­
vironment and the class relations and conditions of production
Psychoanalysis as Monistic Psychology 5

underlying it on the brain and on each individual human being.

Any attempt to isolate "thought" or "mind" as some discrete
class of phenomena Marxism regards as an uns cientific and
patently idealistic approach to things . Marx and, espe cially,
Engels , and after them many of their followers, clearly stated
the nece ssity of this monistic approach to the study of any
problem. The monistic approach was especially prominent
in the attitude of Marx and Engels toward the mind, which
they saw as a property of organized matter , rooted in the
activity of the human body and in the influence of the so­
cial conditions of production on it. With thi s, the problem
of mind immediately shifts from the realm of philosophical
speculations about the "reality of consciousnes s , " etc. (there
is nothing more alien to Marxism than such blatantly meta­
physical, absolute philosophizing), to the level of a monistic
elucidation of mental phenomena and the reduction of the
mind to a set of more elementary and fundamental material
processes.
We might sum up this first postulate of Marxist methodology
as the require:r;nent to examine the things and events of the
world obj ectively and not to refer to "man" as the ultimate
cause of phenomena (cognition, social phenomena, etc . ), as did
the thinkers of the 18th and 19th centuries, but to explain man
himself in terms of the phenomena of the world outside him,
his external, material conditions of existence.
The second basic premise of the materialist method is that
phenomena must be approached dialectically. Here, Marx­
i sm draws a sharp distinction between itself and metaphysi ­
cal materialism in that it looks on material conditions as
something constantly changing, ceaseles sly in movement, al­
though this movement sometimes experiences leaps, breaks,
discontinuities, as it were, and most often unfolds in a
series of shifts or swings from one extreme to the other
rather than proceeding uninterruptedly in one continuous
direction.
This is where Marxism introduces its dynamic view of
things and events as a necessary principle and draws a
6 A. R. Luria

firm line between itself and a stati c, metaphysical view of

things that tends to see phenomena as dis crete, i solated,
unchanging essences, not as processes . Metaphysical rea ­
soning was absolute and static and seriously impeded the
development of a positive s cientific approach to knowledge
of phenomena, creating a system of philosophical abstrac ­
tions instead of a system of positive s cientific concepts .
Thus, i n studying integral, concrete , vital pro ces ses, s ci ­
ence should take into account all the conditions and factor s
acting on the thing or phenomenon on which it has focused its
attention and, instead of looking for absolute and eternal truths,
should proceed from the principles of objectivity and dialecti­
cal materialism . These basic postulates have been elaborated
in .Marxism into a number of more spe cific methodologi cal re­
quirements .
Since the material environment acting on man is in most
cas es predetermined by the conditions and relations of pro­
duction, any science that studies man must take into considera­
tion these external material factors, which set the conditions
for mental activity, i . e . , such a s cience must have one foot in
biology and the other in sociology. Hence, any science of man
cannot be a metaphysical science of man in general, but must
be a positive science of man as a social or, more precisely, a
class being. Only such a perspe ctive will ensure that scientific
results are correct and obj ective .
On the other hand - and this is the epistemological princi­
ple of Marxism - if the mental apparatus that creates a sys­
tem is influenced by social and. class factors, then any thought
must contain some mixture of subjectivity, cons ciously or un­
consciously giving a class or socio-economic coloring to the
system it has created. Therein lies the reason for the Marx­
ist doctrine that complex sociopsychological phenomena must
not be taken as givens : they must not be "believed literally, "
but explained in terms of other, more elementary principles ;
and the social and class factors that underlie them must be
brought to light.
We call this principle the analytical principle <_!); it acquired
Psychoanalysis as Monistic Psychology 7

its importance in the analysis of "ideological superstructures"

and is a powerful weapon in the struggle for a real and objective
knowledge of things, untainted by "personal distortions, " i . e . ,
knowledge of things a s they really are .
I n these respects the Marxist system i s profoundly and fun­
damentally different from other metaphysical and nai've empiri­
cal philosophical systems and, in contrast to the nai've empiri­
cal method of idealistic philosophy, may be wholly described as
a system of scientific analytical methodology.
Every modern science, in our opinion, should conform to
this basi c premise of Marxist method. This, of course, includes
psychology; and if psychology has, in fact, not always measured
up to this requirement, it is only because it has been more
closely allied to the principles of idealistic philosophy than to
the fundamental tenets of a scientific, materialistic outlook.
It is just these shortcomings that psychoanalysis strives to
over come .

II

In one sense, psychoanalysis is a reaction to the old em­

pirical psychology (!), just as the latter, in its time, was born
of the reaction to rationalist psychology.
Psychoanalysis may also, however, be regarded as a pro­
tes t against the shortcomings and errors of a narrow, empiri­
cal psychology and an attempt to avoid its mistakes .
From either standpoint, psychoanalysis draws a sharp line
between itself and aspects of the dominant psychology, which a
diale cti cal materialist method should also particularly oppose .
Operating mainly with the introspective method, complicated
only by empiri cal controls, classic, "general " psychology was
perforce limited to study of the "phenomena of cons ciousness"
or, more precisely, the "phenomena of one' s own cons cious­
ness"; this, of cour se, tu1·ned it into a s cience that was sub­
j e ctive and naively empirical, as opposed to a purely empiri­
cal s cience.
The concern of this psychology was to study in a more pre-
8 A. R. Luria

cise manner those conscious processes the inves tigator was

able to note in himself through attentive observation of the
phenomena of "subjective experiences, " "thinking, " etc., taking
place within him. All sorts of experimental conditions were
contrived to make it easier to observe these processes; the
real nature of these "experiments " wa s brilliantly exposed by
the Wurzburg school, which showed that in the introspective
method, these conditions played only a subsidiary role.
Because of this nai"ve, empirical approach to mental life,
empirical psychology was forced to repudiate any scientific
materialist foundation of mental phenomena (in empirical psy­
chology this aspect was usually limited to comments added in
passing about "body" and "soul, which are obviously idealistic
ll

concepts) . It was forced to limit its field of inquiry to the, from

a scientific viewpoint, patently perni cious · sphere of subjective
phenomena, i . e . , the indications or statements made by sub­
jects concerning the processes they observed taking place in
themselves, and to take them at their word without making any
adjustments for the "subj ective factor" �) , only oc casionally
correcting experience with ess entially nai·ve physiological
studies (e.g. , a study of respiration and pulse accompanying
consciously evoked emotions) . At the same time, the richest
domain of unconscious mental processes, which underlay the
"bare facts" to which nai"ve empirical s crutiny had access, re­
mained a closed book to the investigations of classic psychology.
Because of these flaws in its basic methods, psychology re­
mained predominantly a descriptive science, concerned with
de scribing and classifying the phenomena of cons ciousness and
hardly daring to venture to explain them or analyze the condi­
tions under which they occurred.
These conditions, which in part ordinarily lie hidden in the
lower, unconscious reaches of mental life and in part are to be
sought in external conditions, had perforce to remain beyond
the scrutiny of general psychology.
All these features defined the clearly idealistic and naively
empirical nature of the old psychology. (4)
The nai"ve empirical data obtained in it s contrived experi-
Psychoanalysis as Monistic Psychology 9

ments were re sponsible for a second fundamental flaw in the

clas sic empirical psychology.
Since it was unable to undertake a scientific explanation of
mental phenomena, expe rimental psychology took another route :
it broke down its findings into di screte, minute elements , "atom­
ic facts , " as it were, and studied each of these hypothetical ele­
ments of the mind separately. (�)
The tendency to construct mind out of such isolated, static
elements is by no means a new phenomenon (6 ) ; indeed, it is
particularly characteristic of that kind of thi cldng Engels [ in .
Anti- Duhring ] , called metaphysi cal , and is fundamentally at
variance with a dynamic, vital, dialectic concept of things.
But this was the metaphysical error to which psychology fell
prey when it drew such a rigid distl.nction between "reason, "
"senses, " and "will" or distingui shed sensations and feelings
as the most rudimentary elements of mental life, or, finally,
when it concentrated on the study of the elementary processes
of sensation, perception, memory, attention, ideas, etc. , in
isolation.
All these elements, viewed as discrete, static phenomena,
are, of course, not real-life proce sses. Even though their study
in isolation may, in its time, have been useful to psychology, it
has now unquestionably become a hindrance to its further develop­
ment, and we may with justification call thi s "subj ect matter of
psychology, " which psychologists themselves admit to be a prod­
uct of abstraction, metaphysical fictions, and the system that
studies them, a metaphysical system to the core .
Of course, a system of psychology built in thi s way was not
even able to begin the study of something such as an integral
psychoneural process, the real basis of human activity, charac­
terizing man' s behavior, motives, responses, etc. The old psy­
chology, which rested on principles such as those enumerated
above, had long since given up studying the whole man, to say
nothing of man as a creature shaped by the specific conditions
of his socio-economic and, above all , his class situation. Even
the most re cent works of general psychology, often reviving the
old traditions of "faculty psychology, " have not been able to
10 A. R. Luria

create a system that would help elucidate the complex structure

of the human personality, let alone influence it.
It should be clear from the above discussion that the main
principles on which classic psychology was based cannot meet
the methodologi cal requirements laid down by the positive sci­
entific thought of the present period; and, of course, they do
not at all meet the prerequi sites of the dialecti cal materiali st
method.
Moreover, almost the whole of modern psychology may, as
far as its basic premises are concerned, be characterized as
a system of metaphysical idealism built on the basis of naive,
empirical investigations .
Of course, such a state of affairs precludes from the outset
any possibility of a sociobiological explanation of mental phe­
nomena, and it does not allow for influencing the mind in any
organized or systematic way. The question then arises whether
psychology may not stand in need of a radical reworking in
terms of the scientific method of dialectical materialism . We
thus come to the problem of the relationship between the psy­
chology and philosophy of Marxism and psychoanalysis.

III

In establishing its concepts, psychoanalysis proceeds from a

number of fundamental postulates that are often entirely different
from those of general experimental psychology mentioned above .
Instead of studying discrete, isolated "elements " of mental
life, psychoanalysis attempts to study the whole personality,
the whole individual , his behavior, inner workings, and motive
for ces (1); instead of des cribing individual subje ctive experi­
ences, it endeavors to explain the different manifestations of
the individual personality in terms of more basic, more primary
conditions of the person's existence and environment; instead
of a covertly dualistic approach to mental life, which often falls
into idealism, it proposes a monistic, dynamic (8) approach to
the personality; instead of studying "things" in isolation, it
would study continuous processes that reflect the organic conti-
Psychoanalysis as Monistic Psychology 11

nuity between' the life of the child and the mind of the adult human
being; instead of "extrasocial" man in general , studied in ab­
s tra ction from the social conditions forming him, psychoanalysis
endeavors to link many of the deepest-lying workings of the hu­
man mind to the influences of social groups ; and finally, instead
of naive, empiricist satisfaction with a description of the phe­
nomena of cons ciousness "as they are given to us, " it starts
out with the principle that the internal, hidden factors determin­
ing phenomena must be studied analytically "not as they are
given to us, " but as they become acce ssible to us through methods
of obje ctive analysis.
Proceeding from these principles, psychoanalysis constructed
its system of psychology; and this system is, in our view, in­
comparably more in line with the methodological requirements
of positive s cience, which dialectical materialism has formu­
lated in their clearest form .
Let us take a look at the foundations of psychoanalysis from
the viewpoint just des cribed to determine where its method
coincides with the method of Marxism.
In their reaction to atomizing, experimental psychology, ap­
plied psychology, and psychoanalysis (�) have come forward
with the resolve to study the whole human personality, and in
this respect are following in the foots teps of Marxism, which
had expressed the same intention earlier.
True, in its early stages Marxism did not have a finished,
pure, psycholbgical theory of the personality; its interests lay
elsewhere, mainly in the problems of society and the develop­
ment of the various forms of society. The problem of the per­
sonality, the motive forces underlying individual behavior, and
the interests impelling people to create ideological systems for
themselves were all questions with which the founders of Marx­
ism were intimately concerned, perhaps because of their tre­
mendous practical i mportance. One need only throw a cursory
glance at the maj or works in Marxist philosophy to see how in­
terested Marx and Engels were in these topics. (10)
We need only look a bit more closely at the premises of the
Marxist approach to personality to see that with respect to
12 A. R. Luria

problems of the mind, this approach really does postulate an

integral, concrete person as its subj e ct matter, not isolated
functions of the mind, as had been the practice in general psy­
chology.
Marxism sees the individual as an inseparable element of
and an active force in history. It is interested in such questions
as the motive forces of the personality or the individual, of the
individual ' s needs and drives, and how the real conditions of so­
cial and e conomic life , so inseparably linked with the personal­
ity, are reflected in the individual' s behavior or, as we would
say, elicit the appropriate responses from the organi sm ( 1 1) ;
and i t is interested in discovering the laws governing individual
behavior, i.e., in uncovering them objectively and s cientifically,
and in knowing the individual personality not as it sees itself,
but ''as it is in fact."
To this integral, monistic approach to the personality Marx­
ism owes another of its tendencies, an extremely important
one : having nothing much in common with pure, speculative
philosophizing, in its constructs Marxism starts with the prob­
lems of practical life (and in this respect is fundamentally dif­
ferent from all metaphysical philosophy) . Its purpose is to
study the world so as to be able to change it; and this activist,
practical orientation runs like a lifeline throughout its system.
This standpoint of practical activi sm especially requires
that man be studied as an integral biosocial organism, so as
to be able to exert a molding influence on him ; in this respect
there is nothing more alien to the spirit of Marxism than an
approach directed toward the study of the isolated "phenomena"
of man' s mental life rather than toward real, historical man.
Finally, this standpoint as cribes central importance to ques­
tions about the motives of human behavior, the way biological
and social forces act on the individual and his re sponses to them .
All these demands Marxism places on modern psychology
may be summed up in one general requirement, namely, that
instead of high-flown speculations about the e s sence of mind and
its relationship to body, a monistic approach be employed in the
study not of "mind in general, " but of the concrete psychoneural
Psychoanalysis as Monistic Psychology 13

activity of the social individual as manifested in his behavior.

This is what we mean by a monistic approach to the study of
mental phenomena. Though it proceeds from the premise that
mental phenomena are ultimately reducible to complicated ma­
terial phenomena, dialectical materialism cannot on that ac­
count demand a materialist formulation for any mental process.
Being dialectical it can make only one demand: that the work­
ings of the brain, the means by which the environment exerts
i ts influence, and outward behavioral manifestations be studied
simultaneously. Thi s, indeed, is the only way that psychology
can, instead of taking the philosophical and metaphysical road
toward constructing a monistic theory of personality, set out
along the promising path of science toward mastering this
problem , namely, by linking the specific motive forces of the
organism and its behavior with processes taking place in the
nervous system and the body' s organs, and by as certaining the
role of these organs in psychoneural activity.
Perhaps there should be a return of sorts to the ideas of
Feuerbach and, before him, to the French materialists of the
1 8 th century, who started out by studying the whole, feeling
human being (i.e., a being knowing obj ectively through the sens­
es) and discarded any concept of a "soul " that existed apart
from the objective processes taking place in the individual.
The philosophy and psychology of Feuerbach and the mate­
rialist � (the "anthropologists") were, of course, immeasurably
nearer to Marxism than the concepts of psychologists of the
subjective, empiricist, and experimental schools. (12)

* * *

In contrast to s cholastic, atomizing psychology, psychoanal­

ysis s tarts out with the problems of the whole person; it pro­
poses to study the person as a whole, and the processes and
me chanisms that shape behavior. (13) It perhaps owes these
principles to the fact that its first point of reference was the
ill personality, the person out of alignment with the social
structure; and its paramount task, as it saw it, was the active
14 A. R. Luria

treatment of this person. This practical, activist orientation

is perhaps what led psychoanalysis to construct the sys tem of
cognitive, explanatory psychology we find in Freud' s theory.
We may take this as a fundamental and primary postulate of
psychoanalysis : psychoanalysis is primarily an organic psy­
chology of the individual ; its maj or objectives are : to trace the
determining factors of all aspects of the concrete individual,
living under definite sociocultural conditions, and to explain the
more complex structures of that individual' s personality in
terms of more basic and more primary uncons cious motive
forces. (14) This individual personality, which psychoanalysis
takes as its starting point, is not regarded by it - and this is
especially important - as a purely psychological concept simi­
lar to the concept of "soul " and "person" in the old psychology.
Despite the forced psychological terminology of psychoanalysis,
which strike s the eye at first glance, it approaches the individ­
ual as an integral organism, in which the anatomical structure
and the functions of the individual organs, the drives, and higher
mental activity are all integrally interrelated. This is why in
the psychoanalytic approach to the individual we often encounter
discussions, sounding strange to the old psychology, about or­
gan functions, zones of the body, etc . , as factors having a dire ct ,
explanatory value for spe cific psychoneural processe s . This
concretely organic approach to psychology is espe cially charac­
teristic of psychoanalysis.
Psychoanalysis is not much concerned wi.th providing a theo­
retical elucidation of the "e ssence of the mental " or the "reality
of mind." Suffice it to say that in the psychoanalytic literature
one almost never comes across definitions of "the mind" and
"the mental" such as those so characteristi c of every philosoph­
ical psychology; the question of "the mind' s reality, " which is
essentially a metaphysical, philosophical question, almost com­
pletely disappears from the picture in psychoanalysis (15 ),
giving way to concrete study of processes and mechanisms
within the individual himself.
The fact that psychoanalysis has systematically abstained
from answering questions about the essence of the mind once
Psychoanalysis as Monistic Psychology 15

more underscores its diale ctical - we could even say practi­

cal - point of view.
The path it has chosen - instead of beginning with a complete,
monadi c formula and materialist explanation of the es sence of
mental phenomena, proceeding first to de scribe, and then to
interpret, the behavior and reactions of the individual, drawing
connections between these reactions and processes taking place
in the organism and its component parts - is unquestionably
s cientifically valid and, in fact, the only one that can bear fruit .
We do, of course, encounter a number of difficulties when we
attempt to come up with a clear- cut philosophical system based
on psychoanalysis, for such a system is just what psychoanaly­
sis is not. But we hope to show that in studying individual be­
havior, the uncons cious drive s underlying it and their conne c­
tions with organic states, psychoanalysis is heading in the di­
re ction of a monistic theory of individual behavior .
Without interrupting the thread of our argument, we should
like to touch briefly on some of the basic features of mental
life as psychoanalytic theory conceives it, for the purpose of
illustrating its fundamental monism.
The first (purely negative) feature we have already men­
tioned. P sychoanalysis denies the property of cons ciousness
to the mind, and instead suggests that this property is inherent
in only a small class of mental phenomena.
Facing the question of unconscious mental activity squarely,
psychoanalysis discards the subjectivism inherent in any at­
tempt to isolate the mind as a spe cial sort of phenomena, dis­
tinct from physical phenomena. Unconscious mental activity
becomes the entire focal point, whose symptom s are easier to
ascertain objectively than to perceive in oneself by means of
introspection, which places them on a level with other proce sses
in the organism from whi ch they are functionally, but not funda­
mentally, distinct (we should be more inclined to say that they
differ from the latter in their relationship to social stimuli,
which is sustained by a complex system of receptors and effec­
tors, and in the way external influences from the environment
shape them, rather than in any fundamental way} . This is al-
16 A. R. Luria

ready a considerable step on the way toward constructing a sys­

tem of monistic psychology.
Further, in its view of mental activity as an energy process
not different in principle from somatic processes, psychoanaly ­
sis provides us with a purely monistic, developed conception of
this energy, stipulating that it may quite easily assume psychic
forms or patently somatic forms.
For the most part, the system of psychoanalysis is based on
the premise that "psychic energy" is wholly subject to the laws
governing any other form of energy; it cannot disappear, but it
can be transformed into another kind, assume other forms, or
be channeled in a different direction.
For example, a severe mental trauma a person has suffered
but almost completely for gotten or a strong impulse a person
has brought under control cannot disappear without a trace . If
conditions prevent the free unfolding of such processes, they are
replaced by others, which may just as well be mental proces ses
as somatic processes. For instance, the energy linked to a
mental trauma may be converted into somatic energy and show
up in a number of somatic symptoms (this is especially appar­
ent in the case of neurotic illnesses, particularly hysteria)
such as functional disorders of the heart, the stomach, etc . , all
of which are based on disorders in innervation, or various "hys­
terical stigma, " even to the point of signs of burns, wounds, and
structural changes in organs .
These symptoms, which mark the conversion of energy from
mental for ms into purely somatic forms, are by no means a
rarity in psychoanalytic practice; and some psychoanalyti c
writers, Grodde ck, for example (16 ) , have provided us with a
number of descriptions of such phenomena.
These phenomena, which in psychoanalysis are referred to
as conversions, are not, in principle, different from others �n
which particular drives are frustrated and disappear, as it were,
from the mental sphere while their energy is transformed into
another form of psychic manifestation, e.g., into fear . The con­
version of one kind of mental energy into another or its conver­
sion into a somatic process represents phenomena of basically
Psychoanalysis as Monistic Psychology 17

the same order, demonstrating the essential organic unity be­

tween these two kinds of energy.
This is surely a tremendous step toward a monistic psychol­
ogy; and what has been said (although it is not a definition of
mental phenomena) is of much greater help for understanding
mental phenomena and their relationships to somatic phenomena
than the dualistic explanations about "soul" and body one finds
in the old psychology.
Finally, one of the pos itive characteristics of the mind, its
capacity to react to complex internal and external (social) stim­
uli and to give birth to complex reactive structures, will be dis­
cus sed further on.

* * *

It goes without saying that in approaching the study of such

a complex system as the whole person, psychoanalysis must
fir st discriminate certain basic determining aspects of the in­
dividual ' s overall organization and begin by investigating them.
We will not be far from psychoanalysis ' s view of the indi­
vidual if we say that it regards the individual personality as an
organized whole that reacts to numerous internal and external
stimuli and in its study places primary emphasis on these two
groups of processes as basic to any des cription of the overall
structure of the mind and as the key to an understanding of the
whole person. (1 7)
Indeed, responses to such stimuli are a manifestation of the
whole reacting person, reflect all its most important features,
and provide us with a general idea of how the individual per­
sonality is structured.
Sherrington (18) and Loeb (19) discussed these kinds of reac­
tions, calling them total reflexes and tropisms; the behaviorists
and writers such as K. N. Kornilov (20) also had them in mind
in dis cus sing integral reactions involving the whole organism.
Thus, the problem of the individual personality is, on the
whole , reduced to the question of the stimuli affecting the or­
ganism and, particularly, the organism ' s response to them.
18 A. R. Luria

As we have said, psychoanalysis endeavors to distinguish

between two type s of such stimuli : external stimuli, coming
from the biological and social environment, and internal stimuli,
originating in physiological processes taking place in the body
and its various organs.
Stimuli of the former kind, preeminently social, exert a
shaping influence essentially on the entire mind; we shall come
back to them a little later . The cons tant stimuli of the se cond
kind, specifically, the way they are reflected in man' s mental
apparatus, are described by psychoanalysis as drives.
But we should stress immediately that psychoanalysis does
not, in principle, make any distinction between the two (2 1 ), al­
though its main concern is with the influence of internal stimuli,
drives, which have been very little studied, despite their funda­
mental importance .
Herein lies the core of the psychoanalytic system (22) and
the point at whi ch it differs radically from clas sic scholasti c
psychology.
Its concept of drive is rigorously monistic, as is its view of
the individual in general. Indeed, a drive is not a psychological
phenomenon in the strict sense, since it includes the effe cts of
somatic and nervous stimuli and of the endocrine system and
its chemistry, and often has no clear- cut psychological cast at
all . We should be more inclined to consider drive a concept at
the "borderline between the mental and the somatic" (Freud) .
(23) The dualism of the old psychology is thus completely dis­
carded. Whether or not the particular person is or can be con­
scious of drive is entirely of secondary importance, depending
on a number of minor details in the development of drive . More­
over, all the hypotheses about the relationship between soul and
body, their psychophysical parallelism or interaction (so ne ces­
sary to the old psychology) , are also left by the wayside . Psy­
choanalysis has shifted the problem to an entirely new plane -
a monistic approach to the mind. Thi s approach is somewhat
reminiscent of a statement by LaPlace , who, after constructing
a system to explain the creation of the world on the basis of the
mutual attraction between the heavenly bodies, responded to his
Psychoanalysis as Monistic Psychology 19

patron' s question about the place of God in his system with the
observation, "Your Excellency, I am able to do without this
hypothesis . "
This approach has enabled psychoanalysis to reexamine the
question of individual mental functions and to place them in their
organic relationship to the indivictual as a biological being.

A few examples will show how psychoanalysis, from the

very outset, began to depart from the doctrines of classic
psychology.
In their very first investigations some psychoanalytic
thinkers noted that the strict isolation of discrete acts
and states as either purely active or purely passive was
a flaw in classic psychology that rendered it incapable of
understanding a number of phenomena.
For example, it was observed that even in such an os­
tensibly simple function as memory other functions of the
mind also played a part, regulating the overall process
of remembering, retention, and recall of accumulated ex­
perience .
It turns out that not everything is remembered, retained,
and recollected with the same degree of facility; items
(we should say stimuli ) unrelated to a person' s interests
are not retained as vividly as others that clearly bear
the marks of this per sonal interest.
Items that are patently opposed to the interests of the
person are remembered with more difficulty and are
erased from memory very swiftly ( although they are
still retained in the uncons cious, as was discovered later)
through the active intervention of personal interest, which
acts as a kind of self- censor . This explains cases of re­
pre ss ion or forgetting of names, actions, etc . , that serve
no purpose for the individual and would be difficult to ex­
plain otherwise. (24)
Thus, psychoanalysis arrived at a concept of drive that
made it an active ingredient of all the mental manifesta­
tions of the individual, sele cting from among the multitude
20 A. R. Luria

of stimuli only those that are suited to it and in this way

enabling the organism to adapt actively to the environment.
The controlling influence of drives shows up just as
clearly in the act of attention, i.n which they effect an auto­
mati c selection that diverts the attention in the direction
in which it may cons ciously absorb the stimuli most in
accord with conscious or unconscious drives. (2 5) The
controlling role of drives is especially apparent in asso­
ciations; most studies have found that associations are
steered by affect and that drives interfere with this pro­
cess. (26) Finally, even processes that were especially
dear to the old psychology, e.g., thought and its allied
process of cognition, have proved to be largely determined
by the direction of drives.
In the light of these observations, psychoanalysis took
an initial step that bore substantial fruit for its subsequent
development: it took sharp exception to the study of dis­
crete mental phenomena in isolation and, once it dis­
covered what all drives had in common, shifted the ques­
tion to the plane of studying the interaction among mental
functions and the interrelations of the different aspects of
the mind, thus laying the cornerstone for positive holistic
psychology.

Hence, the concept of drive as a guiding and determining fac­

tor grew out of psychoanalytic theory and helped it take the
second step toward a monist approach to the study of the whole
person.
We shall not dwell on the question of drives; for our purposes
it was important only to show the unique approach of psychoanal­
ysis to this question.
We have already mentioned the point that was most impor­
tant for our purposes : that for psychoanalysis, drives are not
a purely psychological concept, but have a much broader sense,
lying at "the borderline between the mental and the somatic, "
and are more of a biological nature .
Thus, psychoanalysis attaches special importance to the de-
Psychoanalysis as Monistic Psychology 21

pendence of mental functions on organi c stimuli . It makes mind

an integral part of the organism' s system ; it can hence no longer
be studied in isolation. This is what sets psychoanalysis apart
from the old scholastic psychology, which attempted to depi ct
the mind as something with no connection at all with the overall
life of the organism and studied the brain quite apart from any
influence other organs of the body might have on it (e .g. , the
endocrine glands) and the general dynami cs of the organism as
a whole . Indeed, the outstanding merit of psychoanalysis has
been that it situates the mind within a general system of inter­
relations of organs, views the brain and its activity not in iso­
lation, but on a level with the other organs of the body, . and at­
tempts to give psychology a solid biological foundation and to
effect a decisive break with the metaphysical approach to the
study of the mind. (2 7) I should not be wide of the mark if I
said that in doing this, psychoanalysis took an important step
toward creating a system of monistic psychology. (28)
Let us take a look at this point in a little more detail, despite
the ambiguous formulations pre sented in psychoanalytic systems
(a feature, we might add, of all systems of empiri cal rather than
philosophical knowledge [ 2 9 ] ) and despite the subjective termi­
nology, which Freud himself said was provisional and needed to
be replaced by an organic terminology. (3 0)
We should first of all be interested in knowing what clas s of
drives, i.e . , those constant stimuli originating within the body,
psychoanalysis deals with.
It tends roughly to distinguish between two classes of drives :
one kind has to do with personal interests, i.e., the interests of
the individual concerned with self-preservation; the other in­
cludes drives that are biologically related to the continuation of
the species and are called sex drives. The first, which psy­
choanalysis calls ego drives for short, are based on what is
conventionally referred to as the instinct for self- preservation
and are associated with the alimentary and defensive reactions
of the organism. (3 1) They often play a dominant role in the
life of the organis � in the fate of stimuli from without, in in­
dividual illness, etc. It is this class of drives that plays the
22 A. R. Luria

greate st role in defining the unique, whole per son psychologi sts
are just now getting around to studying, and so these drives are
ordinarily defined as the interests of the particular person.
The sex drives have been studied much more thoroughly by
psychoanalysis . This has been due principally to the fact that
psychologists of the classical school , who studied the mind in
isolation, in abstraction from the various bodily functions out­
side the brain, paid little attention to the influence of sexual
activity on the mind. Perhaps what was partly to blame here
was some false sense of shame that previously hindered an ob­
jective approach to the study of human sexual experience . On
the other hand, we owe the especially well developed theory of
sexual drives in psychoanalysis to the fact that the whole of
psychoanalysis was based primarily on a study of nervous dis ­
eases (conversion neuroses) , in which sex drives play an especially
important role and are particularly accessible to inquiry. (3 2)
This group· of drive s, which is doubtless of endogenous origin
(33) and hence is one of the most rudimentary aspe cts of the
personality (34), is, again, not regarded by psychoanalysis as a
purely mental phenomenon, but rather as being of an organic
order and, indeed, rather alien to the cons cious mind in the
strict sense of that term as understood by ordinary psychology ..
These drives exert their influence on the cons cious mind only
in closest connection with various other bodily functions .
In its definition of sexual dri.ves, psychoanalysis includes
factors that quite patently demonstrate the organic nature of
psychoanalytic psychology, which we shall now discuss.
Sexuality has not been exhaustively defined by Freud. (3 5)
He does, however, distinguish the following components oiit:
functions associated with the differentiation of the sexes and
with the perpetuation of the species , although the latter are not
necessary (36 ); the pleasure derived from functions as sociated
with this organic drive ; a certain attraction to obj ects stimula­
ting this drive ; in brief, the relation to things that we call love
and that, by analogy with hunger, is given the narrower label of
"libido" in psychoanalysis (3 7) i s accorded a central place on a
par with that of an organic substrate . We have already pointed
Psychoanalysis as Monistic Psychology 23

out that the sex drive has a very clearly nonpsychological and
biological sense in psychoanalysi s . In comparing the theory of
the libido with biological theories of sexuality, Freud di scovered
the close affinitie s this theory had with the findings of some of
the most re cent studies in the area of sexual biology, especially
those stre ssing the influence of sexual secretions on the brain
and the nervous system (in particular , the findings of Steinach
and his s chool) . This leads us to presume that the time is not
far off when psychoanalysi s will be able to operate with a ter­
minology of sexuality and sex drives that will include the real
content of the specific sexual chemistry distinguishing these
drives from others , e.g., ego drives . . . .
What do we really mean when we say that pleasure is an es­
sential feature of the sex drive ? Is not this factor extremely
psychological, subj ective ? And if not, how does psychoanalysi s
conceive it ? Is it in this pleasure principle that we shall find
that organic obj ectivity of which we spoke earlier, or doe s it
indeed represent an ultrapsychological teleology, a theory that
these drives are created with the purpose of striving to attain
pleasure ? Let us try to outline briefly the place that pleasure
occupies in the general system of psychoanalysi s .
The doctrine of pleasure doubtless oc cupies a central place
in psychoanalysis. It is viewed as a principal determining fac­
tor, a maj or tendency, a principle of the organism ' s viability.
The entire organism, both its cons cious and unconscious parts ,
is guided by this inclination to seek maximum pleasure by sat­
isfying drive s .
But in this respect the pleasure principle plays a very spe­
cific role . We know that subj ectively gratification, pleasure,
is only a state of cons cious mental activity. But with its plea­
sure principle psychoanalysis goe s far beyond the limi ts set on
the concept by the subj ective "psychology of consciousness" and
transforms pleasure into an organic concept, into a universal
biological principle of the functioning organism .
What appears to cons ciousness as pleasure conceals deeper­
lying organi c impulses ; the organi sm follows these impulses
in its struggle for existence and self-preservation. Psychoanal-
24 A. R. Luria

ysis leads us back to the organic sources : psychological causal­

ity is transformed into organic causality. (3 8)
Indeed, as we have already pointed out, the human organism
is under the constant influence of continual internal stimuli ,
drives; if to these we add the external stimuli that impinge
ceaselessly on the organism, we can get a good idea of the level
of tension that must build up in the organism. And from this
tension arises the biological impulse to lower the level of stim­
ulation, which appears to consciousness as something unpleas­
ant, which must be avoided. (3 9)
A need to release this built-up excitation, of both internal
and external origins, is created. To reduce stimulation coming
from without, to block access to the organism, and, finally, to
reduce the tone of stimulation from drives - these are the tasks
the mental apparatus takes upon itself . In fact, the most re cent
psychoanalytic works define the mental apparatus as an "organ
of inhibition." (40) The basic impulse of the overall organi sm,
which is also reflected in the pleasure principle, if we may
borrow this vocabulary, is thus reduced to an impulse to con­
trol and release the body from these external and internal stim­
uli and excitations (4-1) and to achieve a state of minimum ten-
sion. (4 2)
Hence, the concept of drive is given a quantitative formula­
tion, in energy terms , and processes taking place in the mind
are reduced to energy processes of stimulation and reactions
to them ; with this, the psychological, subje ctive features the
pleasure principle as the maj or impulse of the organism seems,
at first glance, to have , di sappear . We should al so point out
that the apparent teleology to which psychoanalysis seemed to
subj ect the organism also disappear s , to be replaced by a stri ct­
ly biological causality; and, of course, not a trace remains of
any kind of voluntaristic striving for gratification. Psychologi ­
cal teleology gives way to organic causality. (43 )
The organic nature of drives should b e cleaX::- We must now,
however, try to get a better notion of their organic sources,
which brings us to the second question we have posed. Accord­
ingly, we shall have occasion to consider again the second im-
Psychoanalysis as Monistic Psychology 25

portant step taken by psychoanalysis toward the construction of

a materialist moni st psychology for the whole organism by inte­
grating the brain and the mind along with it into an overall sys­
tem of the body' s organs and their interrelations .
Psychoanalysis quite early noted that some parts of the body
are espe cially responsive to different external and internal stim­
uli and that their stimulation has a particularly powerful influ­
ence on the brain and the entire psychoneurological system. For
example, it proved completely impossible in studying the mind
to disregard the sources of its driving forces, that is, the differ­
ent organs of the body; the brain could not be studied independent­
ly of the system of interrelations it has with other organs . (44 )
This raised the problem of the organic sources of drives and
the responses of the individual; and, accordingly, psychoanalysi s
developed the theory of the psychological significance of the vari­
ous organs of the body. Later this theory was molded into a
rigorous system in the doctrine of erogenous zones ( Freud, 4 5 )
and of deficit organs and their mental compensation ( Alfred Ad­
ler, 46) and found lucid confirmation in the physiological theory
of the interrelations of organs and the influence of the endocrine
system on the brain and its functions .
Alfred Adler was the first to take up the question of the im­
portance of the body' s organs and their function for psychology,
and created a structured system to deal with the question. Ac­
cording to him, we frequently find organs with a relatively de­
pressed functional capacity, which are weak, and which are hy­
perexcitable. (4 7) Adler called these organs deficit organs and
claimed that their deficiency was the basis of their morbidity.
It is biologically impossible , however, for an organ with de­
pressed activity not to be compensated for from some other quar­
ter, which would take over for this weak spot in the body; thus,
if one of the dual organs (lungs, kidneys, brain hemispheres ) is
deficient, some of its functions are taken over by the other -
e .g., if one lung is deficient, the second one undergoes a compen­
satory development. The pi cture is somewhat different in the
case of a single organ; in that case, the central nervous system
take s over for the deficient organ and performs its function by
26 A . R . Luria

blocking the stimuli addressed to that organ and creating a men­

tal superstructure over and above the function of the deficient
organ to serve as an auxiliary apparatus in fulfilling the tasks
imposed on it. When an organ is defi cient, the task of compen­
sation becomes a maj or motive force for the mind; the organ
becomes a focal point of interests and attention and in this way
becomes a point of origin for all of the individual' s systemic
responses. This, i.n general outline, is how Adler ' s theory of
the role of the organs in performing mental functions looks . (4 8 )
This brings u s to Freud' s theory of the organic basi s of
drives, which furnished a firm , positive groundwork for the
whole of psychoanalysis. Of the ideas touched on in the fore­
going, we shall be dealing primarily with the organic sources
of sex drives.
Freud' s great merit wa s unquestionably to have called atten­
tion to the role played by the organs and zones of the body in
mental life; each of these zones and organs has its own specific
hypersensitivity, which we have described above as a basic fea­
ture of drive . The se zones, whose stimulation produce s what
we above called pleasure (in the specific sense given to it) , are
also sources of drives. They are, of course, the genitalia and,
in addition, the oral mucosa, the anal opening, and in the very
broadest sense, even the skin and mus cle s.
All these regions, which psychoanalysis calls erogenous
zones (4 9) , constitute a single powerful system that acts on the
mental apparatus, guides its activity, and controls and directs
its striving to reduce the level of tension and to attain pleasure .
These zones, in which endogenous excitation has the pos si­
bility of receiving external gratification, have a definitely sex­
ual nature , although they are not limited to the area of the
genital s. The erogenous function may often be linked to the
ordinary functions of an organ. (50) This introduced a compli­
cation into one of the earlier concepts of psychoanalysis, name­
ly, organ pleasure . An erogenous zone may be any zone of the
human body and, conversely, "There is no area of the body that
is totally devoid of erogenicity."
All of these positions are based on study of infantile, pre-
P sychoanalysis as Monistic Psychology 27

genital forms of sexuality, the sexuality of neurotics, and sex­

ual perversions . The findings of these studies unders cored
that erogenicity was diffused throughout the organism and that
erogenous functions are no more than concentrated in the geni­
tals , which therefore must be viewed not as the only erogenous
zone, but merely as the one that is ordinarily dominant. (g)
This state of affairs, in which the diffuseness of erogenous
functions among the various organs of the body is a primary
premi se, underscores the tremendous importance of erogenous
zones for the mind. In guiding the func tioning of the mental
apparatus in accordance with the pleasure princ iple, the erogen­
ous zones regulate the child' s relationship to the external world
as well, obliging him to distingui sh erogenous stimuli from
others, and in this way condition the child' s various responses
to the external environment.
We need not deal particularly with the view that when the
mother' s breast touches the infant' s mouth and stimulates the
oral mucosa, it concentrates on itself (just as do other stimuli
having no alimentary value, for example, a nipple or the thumb)
all of the child' s interest or, as we would say, hi s responses;
later, specific stimuli applied to the skin or mus cles, the activ­
ity of the intestines, stimuli associated with the excretory ori­
fices (52), etc . , do the same.
It is therefore not surprising that the erogenous zones are
able to influence the entire further development of the person­
ality; and the problem thus posed of the interrelations between
the mind and other organs shifts such psychological questions
as the formation of personality, etc ., to a completely new plane.
The theory of per sonality formation has not yet been suffi­
ciently developed by psychoanalysis on this new organi c basis,
but even the little it does give us helps us to understand the hu­
man mind immeasurably better than the old, subjective, empir­
ical psychology was able to do.
If the functions of the erogenous organs do indeed occupy
such an important place in the child' s life, then it is reasonable
that they should contain the roots of many traits of the human per­
s onality. We have already said that during certain periods of
28 A. R. Luria

development, the functions of these organs concentrate around

them the greater portion of a child' s interests ; stimulation of
them and the responses such stimulation produces are perhaps
the most important factor in the primitive life of the child,
still in the proce ss of being organized; no wonder, then, that
these responses often serve as a prototype to which later forms
of mental life revert. In analyzing specific personality traits
and their origins in primitive responses to organ stimulation,
we find at least three paths by which primitive drives and types
of organi c reactions may be transformed into complex person­
ality traits : a personality trait may simply reproduce the earli­
er response, as it was, reproduce it in a modified, more compli­
cated, sublimated form, or, finally, may be shaped as a reac­
tive structure to this form of primary gratification and ac cen­
tuate features that are the opposite of those that existed in
childhood.
Earlier we noted in passing that the development of the
child' s organism pas ses through a series of stages in which
the different erogenous zones predominate, one after the oth­
er, until they are finally replaced by the genital system as
the sole, dominant one, with a powerful influence on mental
activity.
Psychoanalysis has singled out, especially, three of these
stages of erogenous zone predominance : the stage of oral
eroticism (in which the oral cavity acquires an erotic sig­
nificance associated with eating), then the anal stage (asso­
ciated with the digestive and excretory system), and, finally,
after other zones briefly enjoy this dominant role, the geni­
tal stage . (53 )
No wonder, then, that the predominance of each of these
zones should leave its mark on the formation of the personality,
their overall influence on mental organization taking any one of
the three aforementioned paths .
For example, one of the most important stages in the devel­
opment of the child is the anal stage, during whi ch the anal
mucosa are hypersensitive, all reactions associated with this
zone assume paramount importance, and the child strives con-
P sychoanalysis as Monistic Psychology 29

tinually to stimulate it. In the child' s outward behavior this is

manifested in a heightened interest in defecation, a tendency to
retain the fece s as long as pos sible, and a refusal to defecate
and hence to stimulate the inte stine s.
Freud, and after him other author s, describes a number of
per sonality traits that are unque stionably traceable to the se
primitive reactions associated with the anal stage.
For example, the recurrence of the se reactions later on may
show up in traits such as stubbornness, in indeci sive pondering
over one ' s responsibilities and the performance of one ' s duties,
followed abruptly by impulsive action, etc . (54 ) In this case, a
person is just repeating in other sphere s of life the stubbornness
and the effort to put off the final act (defecation) that once played
an important role at the very beginnings of hi s life, when he was
still a primitive being, and when the focal point of his intere sts
was the activity of the intestines and stimulation of the zones
associated with them. (55 ) The way these personality traits and
habits are formed thus coincide completely with the way condi­
tioned reflexes are formed on their rudimentary organic base .
Examples of personality traits formed through the transfor­
mation or sublimation of primitive anal erotic functions are
punctiliousness and stingine ss, as an attempt to retain one' s
fece s, which later assumes more social forms and is trans­
ferred to another obj ect, i . e . , things collected, money, etc.
Finally, the primitive feature s of' anal eroticism may be in­
hibited or repressed during the subsequent development of the
organism as socially unacceptable, or they may even be re­
placed by other socially colored traits quite the opposite of
them. According to Freud and hi s followers, the characteris­
tics of bodily cleanliness and punctiliousness, which develop
as a reaction in place of an inhibited and repre ssed impul se to
filthiness, to soil oneself by smearing one ' s feces all over one­
self, etc . , are impulses associated with anal eroticism .
However incomplete these examples offered by psychoanal­
ysis are, and however odd they may seem to us (56 ), one
thing must be stressed : in psychoanalysis we have the first
attempt to construct a theory about the development of the
30 A. R. Luria

human pers onality not on the basis of some subj e ctive men­
tal qualities, not by means of a purely external analogy with
biological laws (57), but on an organic basis, by tracing the
primitive foundations of complex personality traits to the ac­
tivity of the organs of the human body and their effects on
man's mental makeup.
The principle of the interrelation of the organs, including
the brain, is a component part of this theory and makes it pos­
sibl e to materialize, to use Binswanger 's term (5 8), the theory
of personality and to place it on a positive foundation.

* * *

These, then, are the main outlines of a psychology constru cted

on the basis of materialist monism, which views phenomena of
mental life as one of the various kinds of organic phenomena and
draws no principled distinction between processes taking place
in the organs of the human body and psychological responses to
them.
Psychoanalysi s, whi ch shifted the theory of mental phenom­
ena to an entirely new plane , the plane of the theory of organic
processes taking place in the human organism as a whole, made
a de cisive break with the metaphysics and idealism of the old
psychology, and has laid the fir st solid foundation (together with
the theory of human responses and reflexes) (5 9) for a materi­
ali st, monistic psychology that takes a positiveapproach to the
mind of the whole person.
This is psychoanalysis' s answer to the leading problem
posed to modern psychology by the most important philosophy
of the age, dialectical materialism, the problem of finding a
materialist approach to the whole personality and the motive
for ces of the individual psyche .
Psychoanalysis has made an important contribution to the
resolution of this problem in that it has taken two maj or steps :
it has affirmed the interrelatedness of individual mental func­
tions, and it has reintegrated the mind into the overall system
Psychoanalysis as Monistic Psychology 31

of organs and their biologically determined activity.

In doing this it has opened up an entirely new biology of the
mind (60) and taken some maj or steps toward the creation of
a coherent, objective, monistic system (6 1 ) ; and we can whole­
heartedly concur with Pfister' s statement that ''Freud was the
first great positivist in psychology. "
If the system of psychoanalysis is to measure up better to
the requirements of diale ctical materialism, however, it must
develop fully the dynamic diale ctic of mental life and take a
third step toward a holi stic approach to the organism : it must
now integrate the organi sm into a sys tem of social influences. (62 )
I t is with these aspects of psychoanalysis that we shall be
dealing in later work.

Notes

[ Editor' s note : The original text contains 120 notes, most of

them citations to very old works or to Russian versions of
Marx, Engels, and Freud. We have retained only those that in­
clude personal comments by Luria, quotations, or references
that seem particularly relevant. ]

1) We want to point out here only the inherent similarity

between the analytical method of Marxism, which looks beyond
the surface of things to their real roots, and psychoanalysis,
which is more spe cialized in its area of application, but _is just
as i mportant in terms of its basic approach.
2) A note on terminology: we use the terms "empirical
psychology, " "general psychology, " and "the old psychology"
(despite a certain inaccuracy) to denote the s chool of psychol­
ogy, which has typified and in fact even become classic for a
whole epoch, that has developed along the lines laid down by
most empirical psychologists of the last quarter of the 19th
century.
3) Any study of purely experimental psychology can serve
as an example; in Russia there are the studies of Chelpanov' s
s chool.
32 A. R. Luria

4) L. Feuerbach gives a brilliant description of this weak­

ness in psychological methods in his essay "Against the dualism
of mind and soul, " in whi ch he write s : " In psychology, roast
pigeons fly into our mouths, while into our cons ciousness and
sens es fall only conclusions, no reference s, results only, and
not the processe s of the body . . . . " ( [ Works ] . GIZ , 1 923 . P. 14 8).
5) See, for example, the criticism of mosaic psychology
in W. McDougall' s An outline of psychology. 1 923 . Pp. 16 - 1 7.
See also the works of a number of psychologists representing
new trends (a detailed list will be found in my pamphlet [ Psy­
choanalysis in the light of the principal tendencies in contem­
porary psychology ] . Kazan, 1 923 . Pp. 10 ff.) .
6 ) See Bonnet, Essais analytiques sur les faculte s de l 'ame,
1 769, according to whom the task of psychology was to "analyze
each fact, breaking it down into its simplest elements . " Quoted
in Boltunov, [ The concept of empiricism in German psychology
of the 18th century ] . Vop. Filosof. Pstkhol . , 1 91 2 , Book 1 1 1 ,
p. 50. The same tendencies are found throughout English asso­
ciationism and are also reflected in some of the most re cent
systems of experimental psychology. See the definition of the
subject matter of psychology in Tichener, Uchebnik Psikhologii .
Mos cow, 1917. P. 3 7.
7) Elsewhere I have called attention to the fact that one of
the most important psychoanalyti c journals, the P sychoanalytic
Review, bears as a subheading the very appropriate motto: A
journal devoted to understanding human conduct. This sums
up very well the intent of psychoanalysis .
8) As I shall try to show later on, this view does not at all
contradict the apparent teleological nature of psychoanalysi s .
9) For how modern psychology deals with this question, a s
well a s its general trend, s e e m y pamphlet [ Psychoanalysis in
the light of the principal tendencies in contemporary psychology ] .
10) Marx and Engels were especially interested in the human
personality and the higher products of human activity, as is evi­
dent from a number of passages in their writings . See, for ex­
ample, Marx' s The 18th brumaire of Loui s Bonaparte and - The
German ideology, and Engels' s L. Feuerbach. . . .
Psychoanalysis as Monistic Psychology 33

Masarak was not far from the truth when he commented,

"According to Marx, the tasks of scientific history consi st in
studying the driving causes refle cted i.n the minds of the active
mas ses and their leaders as conscious motives" ( [ The philo­
sophical and theoretical foundations of Marxism ] . Moscow,
1 900. P. 1 56 ) .
1 1) An examination of the writings of Marx and Engels clear­
ly reveals that in Marxist theory, the mind is conceived as a
reflex to social stimuli . Aside from the cited writings of Marx
and Engels and of Plekhanov (especially Marx' s Theses on
Feuerbach) , there remains only one reference to the Marxi st
Voltmann, [ Historial materiali sm ] . St. Petersburg, 1 90 1 . Pp.
2 5 8 , 262, 266 , etc .
12) Feuerbach brilliantly anticipated many of the concepts
of the new psychology. His arguments for a monistic approach
to the individual, about feelings, about the relationship between
cerebral activity and the activity of the organs of the body were
altogether a classic prototype of a sound and profound approach
to the problem of the individual personality. See espe cially his
es say "Against the dualism of body and soul, flesh and spirit, "
in [ Works ] . GIZ, 1 923 . Vol . 1 , pp. 146 ff.
13) This principle is expres sed especially well in the writ­
ings of American psychoanalysts . See, for example , W. White,
Foundations of psychiatry. 192 1 . Chapt. 1 .
14) For the concept of psychoanalysis as the psychology of
the whole person, see also 0. Pfister, Zurn Kampf um die Psy­
choanalyse. 1 920. Pp. 2 7-28 (Psychoanalyze, als eine System
der organischen Psychologie ). L. Binswanger, Psychoanaly se
und klinis che Psychiatrie . Int. Z. Psychoanal . , 1 92 1 , pp. 14 7 ff.
15) See S. Freud, The ego and the id . (On the psychic na­
ture of the unconscious) . It should be noted in general that the
biological and the sociological approach, but not the logical­
philosophical approach, to the mind is close to psychoanalysis .
1 6 ) G . Groddeck, Uber P sychoanalyse des organis chen in
Mens chen. Int. Z . P sychoanal ., 1 92 1 , p. 2 5 2 . S. Ferenczi,
Hysterische Materialisationsphanomene. (Hysterie und Patho­
neurosen, 1 919) . F . Deutsch, Experimentelle Studien zur P sy-
34 A. R. Luria

choanalyse. Int. Z . Psychoanal ., 1923 , pp. 484 ff . Many of

Freud' s writings are devoted to this subject (see Kleine Schrif­
ten zur Neurosenlehre) . For nonpsychoanalytic writer s dealing
with the same questi.on, see Char cot, Janet, De j e rine, P. Duboi s,
the earlier Carpenter, and many others .
1 7) After de scribing its foundations, I shall have occasion to
return to this, in my view, fundamental postulate of psychoanal­
ysis more than once . For the time being, I refer the reader to
studies in which the mind is regarded as a system reacting to
stimulation and drives . See Freud, Jenseits de s Lustprinzips
(192 1) , espe cially pp. 21 ff . , and W. White, op. cit., especially
pp. 2, 4 , 5 ff.
18) See Sherrington, The integrative function of the nervous
system.
1 9) See Loeb, The organism as a whole from a physiological
viewpoint. London, 1 9 16 .
20) K. N. Kornilov, [ The theory of human reactions ] . Mos ­
cow, 1922 .
2 1) Freud, Jenseits des Lustprinzips . See al so F . Alexander,
Metapsychologische Betrachtungen. Int. Z. Psychoanal . , 192 1 ,
p . 1 8 1 : "These two source s of stimulation, the internal and the
external, have a common origin. "
22) L. Binswanger, Psychoanalyse und Klinis che Psychiatrie.
Int. Z. Psychoanal. , 192 1 , p. 153 , says : "The concept of drive
constitutes the real core of Freudian theory, the foundation of
the whole edifice ."
23) See Freud, Drives and their fate . [ Psikhol. i Psikhoanal.
Bibliotek ] . Moscow, 1922 . Vol . ill, pp. 107 ff. See also hi s
"Psychoanalytic comments on an autobiographic des cription of
paranoia . " Jahrbuch f. Psychoanalyse, II, p. 6 5 : "We regard
drive as a borderline concept between the mental and the
somatic and see in it the mental representation of organic
forces . " On the theory of sexual drive, see Vol . vm of the
cited Bibliotek; L. Binswanger, op. cit. , pp. 153, 155 ; W. White,
Foundations of psychiatry. New York, 1 92 1 . Pp. X and 1. Here
the question of the soul and the body disappears once the prob­
lem of mental life is shifted to a plane studying the mind as a
Psychoanalysis as Monistic Psychology 35

"finite expression of the integration of the individual into an

organic unity . . . . " White correctly observes, "The only way
to approach psychology properly is to do away with .all meta­
physical speculation about the e ssence of the soul and its rela­
tionship to the body and to proceed on the basis of the premise
that what we have become accustomed to calling the mental is
a manifestation of the organism as a whole ."
24) In addition to Freud' s classic works (see his The psy­
chopathology of everyday life, Introductory lectures on psycho­
analysis, Vol. 1 , and his writings on the theory of neurosis -
Minor writings on the theory of neurosis) , see E . Jones, The
repre ssion theory and its relation to memory. Brit. J . Psycho! . ,
VIII (2) ; and T . Loveday, T . W. Mitchell, T . H. Pear, & A . Wolf
OJl this theme, The role of repression in forgetting. Brit. J .
Psycho! . , VII (2) .
25) The first approach to this problem was made in the lit­
erature on witnes ses' testimony, which shed light on the role
interest plays in directing attention and screening per ceptions .
(See W. Stern, H. Gross, and others.)
26) The literature on this question is vast. I shall deal in
detail with the question of complex associations (or responses)
elsewhere . Let me point out only that the problem was first
posed and examined by Jung. See his Diagnostische Assozia­
tionsstudien. 1 9 10- 1 1 . Vols . 1 - 2 .
2 7 ) The clearest statement of this need to integrate the
brain and the mind into an overall system of the body' s organs
may be found in Feuerbach. In hi s essay "Against the dualism
of body and soul " (Works, 1 923 , Vol . 1 , p. 15 7), he says : " . . . .
It is not the soul that thinks and feels, because the soul is a
personified and hypostatized function, transformed into a dis­
crete entity; it is a function or manifestation of thought, sensa­
tion, and desire; and it is not the brain that thinks and feels,
because the brain is a physiological abstraction, an organ riven
loose from its totality, from the skull, from the head, from the
body, and fixed as if it were a self- contained entity. The brain
can function as the organ of thought only in connection with the
human head and the human body. " Unfortunately, this essen-
36 A. R. Luria

tially simple truth has long been forgotten by general psychology.

In this re spe ct psychoanalysis is right in step with the latest
theories on endocrine glands and their influence on the mind;
these theories also attempt to integrate mental life into the sys-:
tern of the body' s organs. Of writings following this line of
thought, I shall mention only the new book by N. A. Belov,
[ Physiology of types ] . Orel, 1924 .
2 8) Aside from Freud, a number of other writers have
pointed out the monistic materialist nature of psychoanalysis,
e .g., Bleuler, Physis ches und Psychis ches in der Pathologie .
Z . Ges. Neurol . Psychiat. , 1916 , XXXI; W. White, Foundations
of psychiatry; L . Binswanger, Psychoanalyse und klinis che
Psychiatrie . Int. Z . Psychoanal ., 192 1 , p. 155 (in conne ction
with personality theory) ; J . Meagher, Psychoanalysis and its
critics . Psychoanal . Rev., 192 2 , No. 3 , p. 326 ; and S . Ferenczi,
a number of writings .
2 9) "The fact that certain concepts of psychoanalysis are
unclear, " stated Freud, "draws the dividing line between specu­
lative theory and s cience, which is built on the basis of e mpiri­
cal data. Science willingly leaves to speculative, contemplative
philosophizing the advantages of a smooth, logically unimpeach­
able soundnes s, and is prepared to be satisfied with obscure,
elusive, basic propositions . " On narcissism . [ Psikhal . i
Psikhoanal. Bibliotek ] . Mos cow, 1 923 , Vol . VIII, p. 12 1 . In
another place Freud adds, ''I myself have an aversion to sim­
plification at the expense of truth. " Introductory lectures on
psychoanalysis. 1922 . Vol. II, p. 7 1 . This makes the inter­
pretation of the basic principles of psychoanalysis extremely
difficult.
30) See Freud : "We must bear in mind that all the psycho­
logical propositions we have allowed for the time being must
sooner or later also be translated to an organic foundation. "
On narcissism . Op. cit., Vol. VIII, p . 122 ; See A. K. Lents on
the outwardly psychological terminology of psychoanalysi s :
[ Conditioned reflexes and the construction of modern psychia­
try ] . In [ New ideas in medicine ] . St. Petersburg, 1 924 . No.
4 , p. 6 9 .
Psychoanalysis as Monistic Psychology 37

3 1) This class of drl.ves takes an especl.ally active part in

processes such as inhibition of stimuli coming from without
(repre ssion, cens or) and in the formation of narcissistic neuro­
ses. More on this later.
It should be pointed out that in psychoanalysis, this class of
drives, despite its apparent simplicity, has been very little
studied. See Freud, Introductory le ctures (Drives and their
fate) , and . . . The ego and the id.
3 2) Freud, Introductory lectures . . . The charges of pan­
sexualism and narrow sexual monism against psychoanalysis
are very remini scent of the charges made against Marxism of
paneconomism and of elevating the economic factor to the sta­
tus of the sole determining factor in history. Engels, in his
letter to Bloch of September 2 1 , 1 890 , deals brilliantly with
this misunderstanding and the reasons for giving priority to
the study of the economic factor . . . .
33) See F . Alexander, op. cit. Only the sex drive has an
endogenous origin; all others originate outside the body, from
environmental stimuli .
34) See I. C . Flugel, On the biological basis of sexual repre s­
sion. Int. Z. Psychoanal. , 1920, p. 324 . "Sexual drives are the
oldest and most primitive form of vital energy."
35) In the psychoanalyti c system, the mind in the narrow
sense is frequently regarded as something opposed and hostile
to sexuality. The definition of the mind often includes the no­
tion of the mind as an "inhibiting organ, " regulating the inflow
of stimuli. This is espe cially clear when applied to one of the
major aspects of the mind, consciousness. See Freud, On
narcissism; F. Alexander, op. cit. , p. 2 73 ; S. Ferenczi, Die
Psyche als Hemmungsorgan. Int. Z . Psychoanal . , 1 922, p. 4 .
36) Freud examined a broad class of sexual phenomena in
which sexual activity is not associated with the procreative
function (perversions , infantile sexuality, neurotic symptoms,
e tc .) . Thus, his concept of sexuality is much broader than just
genital sexuality. . . •

3 7) This way of formulating the ques tion brings into sharp

relief the importance ascribed by psychoanalysis to sexuality . . . .
38 A. R. Luria

3 8) See L. Binswanger, op. cit., p. 152 . "While for Kretsch­

mer and the psychologists the forces determining mental life
come from the mind, for Freud they are rooted in the biology
of the organi sm . " G. Jel gersma, Psychoanalyti s cher Beitrag
zu einer Theorie der Gefuhle . Int. Z . Psychoanal . , 1920, p. 8 .
"Thus , in psychoanalysis we have concepts that are of a purely
natural science order and not a psychological orde r . " See F .
Alexander, op. cit., and others . I have re cently encountered
the pleasure principle in biology (see Ferenczi , Versuch einer
genital theorie, 1924) and even in reflexology (see the interest­
ing paper by V. I. Boldyrev, Two new laws of brain function.
Bulletin of the Battle Creek Sanitarium and Hospital Clinic,
1924 , XIX(2) (March) ; Pfister, op. cit. , pp. 24 7 ff. ; W. White,
op. cit. pp. 10- 1 1) .
·39) See Freud, On narci ssism : "Dissati sfaction i s an ex­
pression of higher stress, i . e . , it is a material process that
has reached a certain level (my emphasis - A. R. L.) resulting
in the accumulation of an internal tension perceived mentally as
a feeling of discomfort, of displeasure ." See al so Freud, Theory
of the sex drive . Jenzeits des Lustprinzips , pp. 3 ff. ; Jelgersma,
op. cit., pp. 1 ..;.2 ff .
40} See Freud, On narcissism ; "The affective apparatus is
the instrument with whi ch we cope with stimulations ." . . .
4 1} Freud, Introductory lecture s; also Jenseits des Lust­
prinzips, p. 62 : "The pleasure principle is an impulse serving
a function whose task is to make the affective apparatus f:ree
of excitement or to maintain the amount of excitation in it con­
stant or as low as possible . " . . .
42) See, especially, Freud, The ego and the id, and Jelgers­
ma, op. cit. It is curious that the psychoanalytic system coin­
cides with Avenarius' s theory of vital differences . (See Aven­
arius [ Critique of pure experience ] , for example, in Lunar­
charsky' s interpretation . Moscow, 1 90 9 . Pp. 24 ff .)
43) See Alexander, op. cit., pp. 2 70-71 , and L. Binswanger,
op. cit. , pp. 153 -54 . At this point it is perhaps e specially op­
portune to state the dialecti cal approach to the que stion of teleol­
ogy: What appears to us as a striving toward a goal (pleasure)
Psychoanalysis as Monistic Psychology 39

is only the realization of a biological necessity. The contra­

diction between causality and teleology is here reduced to nil .
44) See Alfred Adler, Studie uber die Minderwertigkeit der
Organe . 1 90 7 . P . 59, in parti cular. W. M. Wheeler, On in­
stincts . J . Abnorm . Psycho!. , 1 920 -2 1 , XV, 2 95 ff. "A typical
psychologist does not study his material (as he should, that is)
by comparing it and collating its different parts as the natural
scientist does; instead he limits his inquiry to the head, ignor­
ing the other parts of the organism . ". . . L . Binswanger, op.
cit., p. 153 . N. A. Belov [ Physiology of types ] . Orel, 1 924 .
The foundation for mental and somatic phenomena in Freud is
not the brain in isolation, but drives, a borderline concept be­
tween the mental and the somatic and signifying organic forces
(my emphasis - A. R. L .) .
45) The theory of erogenous zones, one of the cornerstones
of psychoanalysis, was elaborated in "The theory of the sex
drive"; an abundant li terature has been devoted to this subj ect.
46) This theory was presented by Alfred Adler in his
clas sic Studie uber die Minderwertigkeit der Organe and devel­
oped further in his later works on the nervous personality,
1 9 1 2 , Praxis und Theorie des Individualpsychologie, 1 920, and
others .
4 7) Some authors call attention to the similarity between
the concept of a deficit organ and the concept of an erogenous
zone in the light of thi s definition of deficiency. See E . Wexberg,
[ Two psychoanalytic theories ] . (Russian trans.) Psychotera­
piya, 1912 . 0. Hinrichsen, [ Our concept of affective proces ses
in relation to the theories of Freud and Adler ] . Ibid, 1 9 1 3 ,
No. 6 . S e e also Adler, op. cit. , p . 25 .
4 8) I have not touched on a number of important aspects of
this original theory, for example, the theory of stigmas of de­
fi cit organs (organic and psychological) , the theory of the paths
and outcome of central compensation, and last but not least,
Adler' s individual psychology, which rests entirely on these
foundations. I hope to be able to return to these themes later .
4 9) The concept of erogenous zones has its own history.
Char cot called attention to their hypersensitivity and specific
40 A. R. Luria

properties, calling them hysterogenic zones. Chambard (1881)

saw them as centres e rogenes connected with sexual functions .
F e r e (1883 ) noted the similarity between the two; and the theory
of erogenous zones has been dealt with in detail by Binet and
F� r e , H. Ellis, and finally, Freud. See H. Ellis, The doctrine
of erogenous zones. Medical Review of Reviews, 1 920, April,
p. 1 9 1 .
5 0 ) See Freud, Introductory lecture s . . . , and other works.
On this point Freud' s theory of erogenicity is very close to
Adler' s theory of organ functions.
5 1) The evolution of the primacy of the genital erogenous
zones fits in completely with the concept of a dominant as a
sphere of maximum excitability, attracting to itself all stimuli,
even those meant for other organs ; the concept of a dominant
was developed by A. A. Ukhtomskii and his school. See the
articles by him and his followers in Russk. Fiziol. Zh. , 1 923 ,
Book VI. See, with this, Ferenczi' s description of the evolu­
tion of genital primacy in Hysterie und Pathoneurosen. 1 9 1 9 .
P . 1 1 . Genital primacy i s manifested in the fact that every
excitation of the erogenous area is immediately drawn into ex­
citation of the genitals as well . . . . As the central erogenous
zone, the relation of the genitals to the other erogenous zones
corresponds to the relation of the brain and the sense organs.
See al so Freud, The theory of the sex drive .
52) See, for example , E . Jones, Anal erotic personality
traits : "In the first years of life of the infant, the act of defeca­
tion is one of his chief interests . "
53) See Freud, The theory of the sex drive; Introductory
lectures . See also D . Forsyth, The rudiments of character .
Psychoanal. Rev. , 1 92 1 , pp. 1 1 7 ff . Forsyth distinguishes three
basic phases of pregenital organization : (1) autonomi c; (2)
differentiation of the erogenous zones connected with the ali­
mentary system ; (3) dermal eroticism. These phases of pre­
genital organization influence the subsequent fate of the "sex­
ual constitution. " . . .
54) E . Jones sees this interesting trait in the curious habit
of putting off answering letters, the avoidance of household
Psychoanalysis as Monistic Psychology 41

chores, etc. See op. cit . , pp. 29-3 0 .

5 5 ) I have described only two personality traits, omitting an
extremely interesting study of other aspects .
56) . . E . Jones, op. cit., p. 24 : "The most striking result
.

of Freud' s studies, which has perhaps caused the most doubts

and provoked the most protests, is his dis covery that certain
character traits depending on sexual stimulation of the anal
zone produce such profound changes in very early infancy. "
5 7) See, for example, Fouill e e, Temperament and personal­
ity, in which a theory of temperament is constructed by analogy
with biological processes of integration and differentiation.
5 8) "In psychoanalysis, personality is something fixed, ma­
terialized, and dynamically enlightened" (L . Binswanger, op.
cit., p. 155) .
5 9) On the fundamental similarity between the respective
approaches of psychoanalysis and reflexology, see Bekhterev,
[ Foundations of human reflexology ] . GIZ, 1 923 (1st ed. , 1 91 8 ,
Chapt. 3 8) , and books by his pupils Ivanov- Smolensky and Lents
in the journal s Psikhiat . Nevrol . Eksp. Psikhol . and Novye
idei v Meditsina, Vol . 4 . See also G. Humphrey, The conditional
reflex and the Freudian wi sh. J. Abnorm . Psycho!., XIV, 33 8 .
60) 0 . Pfister, op. cit. , p . 24 7 : "A complete new world of
psychology has opened - a biology of affective life, new in all
its maj or features . "
6 1) See A . K. Lents, [ Conditional reflexes and the develop­
ment of modern psychiatry ] . Novye idei v Meditsina, �' 6 9 :
"The psychoanalytic system i s psychological in name only; in
reality, it is obje ctive and physiological . "
6 2 ) Only then will the theory of psychoneural activity ad­
vance from mechanical materialism to dialectical materialism.
 PART TWO

Developmental
Studies
A. R. Luria

A CHILD 'S SPEECH RESPONSES

AND THE SOCIAL ENVIRONME NT

The Influence of the Environment in Speech Responses

Modern psychology has come to the firm view that human
personality is shaped by its concrete sociohistorical circum ­
stances . We can think of no form of behavior that can be studied
in isolation from this historical context, by itself, independent
of the specific sociohistorical conditions determining it.
The dialectical method obliges us to rej ec t a static concept of
behavior in which the various types of behavior are studied in­
dependently of the environmental conditions and general context
within which they develop . Both our theoretic al premises and
practical experience have brought us to the definite conc lusion
that no psychological function can be understood except in terms
of its development (the genetic approach) and its particular so ­
cial conditions (the sociologic al approach) . Only by tackling the
problem of the role played by concrete sociohistorical and cul­
tural conditions in transforming behavior can we hope to arrive
at an adequate appreciation of how behavior patterns are shaped.
In the first part of this study (_!), in which we undertook a
genetic analysis of a child's speech responses, we attempted to
trace the general lines of development of children's speech . In

From Rech' i intellekt derevenskogo, gorodskogo i bespri­

zornogo rebenka (Speech and intellect among rural, urban, and
homeless children ] . Moscow- Leningrad: Gosizdat RSFSR, 1930.

45
46 A . R. Luria

this second part, our aim will be to shed some light on the so­
cial factors involved in this process . Again, our emphasis will
be on the psychological aspects of speech rather than on its
phonetic and grammatical aspects . We shall attempt to explore
the psychological aspects of the speech of children from differ ­
ent social groups, and o n the . basis of this material w e hope to
be able to ascertain some of the distinctive features of the
speech pattern (and to a certain extent the thought patterns) of
children reared in different social environments .
More than any other aspect of our behavior, speech is the
product of the specific historic al circumstanc es in which it de ­
velops . Since its primary function is to promote communic ation,
an individual's speech develops under conditions of maximum
interaction with others . The more intimate, the more lively this
interaction, the more rapidly will speech develop , and the richer
will be its content . Drawing its content, as it does, from direct
social experience, speech naturally reflects the richness or bar ­
renness of the social environment in which the experience takes
place; accordingly, it should not be surprising if the speech of
children from different social c lasses were not at all similar .
Indeed, if we examine the speech of these children, we find that
it faithfully reflects the distinctive features of the environment
from which it has sprung .
Social conditions play a tremendously important role in shap ­
ing speech; indeed, speech is social in nature, and communic ative
in both function and origin. But this is not the only reason why
speech is so dependent on social factors; it is, in fact, also an
extrem ely vital tool of thought; it is intimately involved in all of
a child 's intellectual operations - indeed, in all his intellectual
experienc e . And since this intellectual experience is di rectly
linked with specific features of the social environment, it is
reasonable to assume that the particular environment in which
a child grows up also plays a maximum role in the development
of speech, which in turn gives shape and form to the individual's
social experience . Accordingly, it should occasion no surprise
that the speech of a working -clas s child in a large city, the
speech of a child from a backward country area, and the speech
The Environment and Children's Speech 47

of a homeless urchin who has been deprived of a stable social

environment should be radically dissimilar .
Finally, there is one other factor that deserves detailed
sc rutiny in this study . If we are right in saying that speech
is thought's most vital cultural tool, it should follow that
it is one of the most readily influenced of psychological
processes . Any struc tured pedagogical environment or,
to put it in other terms, any plac ement of a child in a
structured social situation will stimulate and structure
that child 's speech, which will then serve as a vehic le for
the subsequent transformation of his intellectual opera­
tions . Conversely, any inadequately structured environ­
ment will lead to the opposite result : if special intellec ­
tual uses of speech are not deve loped, it will remain en­
trapped in its rudimentary state . Speech may fulfill its
communicative functions quite adequately, yet be poorly
suited for complex intellectual activity . We therefore
thought it might be instructive to compare the speech and
intelligence of a child who had been exposed to structured
pedagogical influences over a prolonged period with the
speech and intelligence of a child who had been deprived
of an adequately structured environment within which to
grow and develop . By c arefully comparing and contrasting
children in these two categories we hoped to shed light on
some of the specific features of the speech and intelli ­
gence of children brought up unde r different circumstances
and to c larify the role played by a structured pedagogical
environment in the transformation of a child ' s psycholog ­
ical processes .
Our subjects in this study were schoolchildren and
homeless urchins .
Our method was extremely simple, but adequate to our pur­
pose s . We had decided to investigate what direct speech re­
sponses children from different social groups would give to var ­
ious verbal stimuli . In emphasizing the immediacy, the spon­
taneity even, of a child's speech responses, we of course there -
48 A. R. Luria

by excluded any direct study of knowledge learned in school.

We decided to limit ourselves as far as possible to an investi­
gation of the natural cours e followed by associative processes
when they were not influenced by the particulars of any specific
s ituation. We therefore neither asked the children any ques ­
tions , assigned them problems or tasks , nor imposed any re­
strictions on their intellectual activity during the experiment
by giving specific instructions . The three groups - urban chil­
dren, rural children, and homeless children - were placed in a
s ituation in which their intelligence had fre e play. Our goal
was to obtain an "intellectual profile," an "instantaneous por­
trait," so to speak, of the natural asso ciative processes of chil­
dren living in different social environments.
This obliged us to employ a simple association experiment
as our method; and the results , which we shall analyze in de­
tail in the present essay, demonstrate that this method was quite
suited to describing the specific features of the speech and in­
tellectual activities of children from different social environ­
ments . Indeed , if we took a rigorously deterministic position,
we would have to concede that ideas that cropped up "spontane ­
ously" in our minds were actually a long way from being spontane ­
ous . Their occurrence is determined wholly by our previous social
experience , and the "spontaneous" ideas of an urban, a rural,
and a homeless child will be entirely different. A person's
class and his particular social experience fill his mind with a
quite specific content, and the study of this content not only is
of considerable interest for the infant s cience of psychology of
classes but is also of indisputable pedagogical interest, s ince
it sheds light on specific features of the intellectual resources
of the children from different so cial environments with whom
our pedagogue will come into contact.
What we here mean by intellectual resources has nothing
whatever to do with the skills a · child learns in school. If we
analyze these resources we can get an idea what associations
are the most vivid for a child of a given social background and
what his socially shaped experience has been. Thus the indices
we worked out for assessing this general experiential background
The Environment and Children's Speech 49

first of all characterized the environment in which the child was

brought up and only secondarily reflected the child's stage of
development. We should be prepared to find that the results
obtained in a study of children of different ages but the same
social backgrounds would have much more in common than the
corresponding information obtained about children of the same
age but different social backgrounds .
However, w e undertook the series of involved experiments
and calculations that such a study requires not just because we
wanted to analyz e the elemental content of the intellectual re­
sources of children from different social environments . A
peasant child's richest and most vivid associations will be rooted
in his rural environment, and it is just these associations that
will be the most barren in the urban child; on the other hand,
in the s choolchild these differences will tend to be evened out
by what he learns in s chool, gaps in his experience will be
filled , his experience will become more harmonious , and his
intellectual resources will beco me richer - these observations
certainly did not require any deep and detailed investigation.
But the fact is that we expected our experiments to yield other
data as well.
We do not believe that the social environment supplies merely
the content of every individual' s experience and nothing more;
on the contrary, it determines a vast range of characteristics
inherent in the basic mechanisms underlying a person's reac­
tions and, ultimately, the overall pattern of the reactions of the
social group to which the individual belongs.
Let us consider each of thes e factors individually and attempt
briefly to explain just what we mean by these statements .

. Associative Mechanisms and Environmental Influences

First, the social circumstances in which a child grows up will

inevitably leave their mark on the mechanisms underlying com­
plex psychological processes , not just on the content of those
50 A. R. Luria

processes . This is especially true of associative processes,

which in both their genesis and their function are the most directly
exposed to the influence of environmental factors acting on them .
Let us take a relatively s imple example. A child's speech
responses occur at a definite pace or speed; this speed cor­
responds both to the customary pace of his intellectual activity
and to the extent of his command over his linguistic and asso ­
ciative processes. {!) We may even go one step farther. There
can be no question that the particular so cial conditions in which
the child has had to develop are also inevitably reflected in the
pace and the extent of his command of his language. It is quite
understandable that the relatively s low and quiet pace of country
life is hardly conducive to the development of quick and lively
behavior; and the behavior of a person living under the condi­
tions of an individual hous ehold economy, often even in an al­
most natural economy, with very few surplus items available
to be marketed, a spars e population, and a very low cultural
level, will always be somewhat slow and relatively relaxed. And
if on top of this we consider the fact that, becaus e of the rela­
tive lack of tension in social relations and the cultural back­
wardnes s of country life, the speech of a child from this environ­
ment will begin to develop six months - sometimes even a year -
later than that of a city child , we will not be surprised if the
figures obtained in our experiments quite faithfully reflect the
slower pace of speech and intellectual activity of the rural child
compared with his city peer.
Table 1 gives us a comparison of such figures .

Table 1
Average Speed of Speech Responses in Children
of Different Social Environments
Response time
Subjects (sec)
City children 9-12 years (44 subjects ) 1 .9
Rural children 10-12 years (40 subjects) 2 . 34
Homeless children 10-12 years (46 subjects) 3.01
The Environment and Children 's Speech 51

We s ee that the average response time (regardless of the

difficulty of the test word and the content of the association) of
the rural child is much slower than that of his urban counter­
part. Later we shall see that in a formal sense the complexity
of the as so ciative processes we observed in either case was in
general of about the same level; hence the speed of associative
processes , which is quite different for the rural and the urban
child, is really in this case a reflection of the distinctive pace
(primarily the speed of association and spee ch) of behavior pat­
terns shaped under conditions of different social tensiono
One figure , in particular, strikes our attention: the mean re­
action time for homeless children was 3.01 sec compared with
1 . 9 sec for ordinary children (i.e. , approximately 60% higher
than that of a s choolchild of the same age) . This figure has im­
plications that provide some interesting clues to the specific
mechanis ms concealed behind the bare statistical data. The
fact that the reaction time of homeless children was quite long
is by no means attributable to the same factors that are respon­
sible for the s lower reactions of the rural child; these phenom­
ena, outwardly s imilar, actually conceal factors that are radi­
cally different from one another. In fact, to say that the urchin
lives at a depressed, slowed pace is misleading; all the evidence
indicates that the direct opposite is the case. However, at this
point we come up against two other factors that influenced the
results of our experiments with the homeless children, and in
the light of which the overall slownes s of this group becomes
clear. The street child is deprived of the training other chil­
dren receive in s chool. He is a stranger to everything asso­
ciated with study or with the knowledge and skills acquired in
s chools. He is not more backward than the schoolchild; this we
know from the facts. He is just different: he does not know
how to reason formally - that is taught in school. Anything
even resembling a problem divorced from real life is a novelty
to him. His linguistic experience has had nothing to do with ab­
stract logical operations of the type cultivated in school. This
is why the urchin, who is quick and deft in coping with the situ­
ations of everyday life, becomes quickly disoriented and pro-
52 A. R. Luria

ceeds slowly in the contrived s ituations of an experiment, in

which, moreover, we employed abstract linguistic (associative)
operations.
However, there is also another factor that will help us solve
the puzzle of the urchin's slow performance and throw the con­
tours of his mind into relief. Not only is he a stranger to ab­
stract, formal operations but when he is suddenly exposed to
the unnatural conditions of a te st, he displays a marked emotion­
al tension indicating acute and complex affective reactions that
he conceals from outs ide view. The urchin has had to wage a
bitter struggle with life, and that struggle has left its specific
emotional traces on him. A strong inner dis cipline (especially
in his relations with his clos est comrades ) and an equally strong
distrust of everything coming from without have left their mark
' on his overall behavior. In our experiments the u rchin was not
the average experimental subject, embarking on a test half con­
fident, half unsure; from the very beginning he adopted an atti­
tude of mistrust and hostility toward the experimenter; he was
afraid to let fall an improper word, to give something away -
and all the more so considering that many of these children had
any number of questionable deeds in their past that they did not
want to reveal and hence carefully s hielded from dis covery.
The affective complexes associated with the past experience of
these children had left their mark on their behavior and caused
them to hold back in their responses in our tests. A close anal­
ysis of the reactions of these children will demonstrate the tre­
mendously important role played by the affective traces of their
past experience.
But we might first ask ourselves whether the rural child or
the homeless child is backward in terms of the indices we used.
Indeed, j ust such a view is quite widespread even to this day
among many levels of educators and educational and experi­
mental psychologists , and, morepver , is considerably reinforced
by the results of certain tests that seem effectively to demon­
strate that rural children and street children are quite back­
ward. But is this really the case ? If we ask ourselves on ex­
actly what these evaluations are based we immediately encounter
The Environment and Children 's Speech 53

a serious discrepancy. Although the street child may s core an

average of 69 on the Binet-Burt intelligence tests , this is not in
itself a sign of his deficient intelligence. We can expect the
street child to be quite backward in any s chool-acquired skills;
and a set of tests designed to evaluate s chool development rath­
er than natural development will of cours e give us comparatively
low scores for both the street child and , frequently, the rural
child as well. But a completely different picture is obtained
if we take more than just a formal approach to the s cores , in
particular , if we compare the associative patterns of thes e chil­
dren' s thought processes.
A study carried out by A. N. Mirenova gives a detailed and
qualitative analysis of data obtained on Binet test s cores for
street children. This analys is convincingly demonstrates that
these children are different, not mentally retarded, and that in­
stead of defective intelligence, they have abilities that have
evolved along unique and independent lines.
The result of our study of speech responses just as clearly
bears out our claim that there are no grounds whatsoever for
attributing some form of mental retardation or backwardness
to rural children as far as their natural, spontaneous thought
processes are concerned.
Table 2 gives a summary of these results. We see that the
reactions of both the street child and the rural child are not
radically different in form from those of s choolchildren of the
same age. If we compare these figures with the results of a
study of urban children we will find them very s imilar. Thus ,
rural children gave an average of 65% appropriate responses ,
which is roughly normal for their age; it was typical of them
that only a s mall number of inappropriate responses were totally
alien to the test stimuli. Fifteen percent of rural children gave
appropriate responses (not at all a high figure for the age group
in question) . Most of the inappropriate responses were auditory
association responses , which, as a rule, are very typical for
first- and second-graders , who have only recently begun formal
study of language.
The responses of our homeless children were s imilar. In any
 54 A. R. Luria

Table 2
Types of Speech Responses
of Children of Different
Social Groups (in %)

Inappro- Appro-
priate priate
respon- respon- Appro-

ses ses priate

Extra Audi- Predica- associ-
(groups 1 , (groups
4 and 5) Refusals signal tory tive ations
Subjects 2 , 3)

Rural children
1 0 - 1 2 yrs 35 65 G 15 20 30 35

Urban children
8 - 1 0 yrs 42. 5 52.5 2.5 27.5 12.5 24. 5 23.5

Urban children
51.7 35.2

I
1 3 - 1 6 yrs 11 83 1.6 5.8 1. 7

Homeless children
1 0 - 1 2 yrs 20.4 76.4 1. 7 15 3.7 31 . 5 39.9

event, it would be absolutely wrong to say that the free associa­

tions of these children were in any sense backward; 76 . 4% of
all their respons es we re quite appropriate; 1 5% of the extrane­
ous responses occurred in cases in which the stimuli touched
some sort of affective s cars. Primitive auditory respons es,
echolalia, and stereotypes , which are so characteristic of the
mentally retarded child, are almost completely absent; and there
is no basis whatever for assuming that we are here dealing with
oligophrenic children.
The psychological resources of these children are quite spe­
cific and qualitatively different from those of a child from an­
other social group. They may perhaps be retarded in te rms of
formal learning, but in potential they are fully normal; and un­
der the right conditions , they could develop into complete, high­
ly productive , human beings .
Although for different reasons the rural child and the urchin
are less quick in their speech responses than the average ur­
ban child of the s ame age , their responses are just as complex,
The Environment and Children 's Speech 55

so that in terms of potential the psychological development of

these children is in no sense subnormal.

Environment al Influences and the Level of

Socialization of the Fund of Associations

Our data not only afford us an opportunity to pinpoint those

specific features in the speed and form of associative processes
that are influenced by the social environment in which a child
has grown up: they also provide us with a rough idea of the
associative patterns characteristic of the group as a whole and
hence enable us to draw certain general conclusions about the ex­
tent and direction of the organizing influence of the environment.
A child ' s entire experience, all of his intellectual resources,
are environmentally determined. This we have already stated.
However, the environmental factor is by no means the same in
all cases. If the environment is unchanging, stable, and com­
paratitrely barren in stimuli, if the entire social group of chil­
dren experiences roughly the same , rather monotonous situa­
tions ' then a certain pe rcentage of children will respond with
the same (o r almost the s ame) word to a particular test stimu­
lus; and there will be relatively few different responses derived
from different areas of experience. Quite the opposite picture
is obtained when a child's environment has been rich and varied,
when the social group of children is expos ed to a variety of dif­
ferent influences , or, finally, when the children have not yet
been completely ass imilated into a broad , structured, social
environment and instead have had their behavior shaped pri­
marily by individual, spontaneous experience (family, environ­
ment, etc.) rather than by the organizing influences of a group.
The variety of respons es will in this case be rather large ; and
the index fo r socialization, i. e. , the sameness of group exper­
ience, will be low. Thus, our experiment enabled us not only to
as certain the extent to which a child's experience has been
shaped by his environment but also, indirectly, to determine
some of the characteristics of the environment itself, i.e. , its
sameness, richness, and uniformity .
56 A. R. Luria

T. Ziehen (3) , relatively long ago , called attention to

the fact that the associations of s mall children mo re often
are of quite an individual nature and that responses com­
mon to all or at least a large number of children are
much rarer. Z iehen thought that this characteristic was
peculiar to childhood and noted that the number of like
respons es increas ed with age, indicating a uniformity of
group expe rience.
Kent & Rosanoff (!) obtained similar data in their ex ­
periments . With many children as subjects , they compiled
indices reflecting the frequencies with which certain re­
sponses were encountered in different age groups. They,
too, obs erved an increase in common responses and a de­
crease in individual responses with age.
All thes e observations have been dealt with in the works
of Piaget (�) , who has found that the socialization of speech
is a gradual process in a child's development and that
speech plays a completely different role in young children:
it is egocentric , and only loosely connected to the outside
world. Only later, as the child grows older, does speech
begin to acquire its communicative functions .
Thought in general assumes a social character as part
of the same proces s , and begins to subs erve social goals
and reflect socially acquired experience.

In the ·light of these considerations , it should be clear why our

predecessors have found that the responses of children tend to
become increasingly uniform as they grow older.
The s imilarity and homogeneity of children' s associative re­
sponses increase with age. This trend is abetted by the growing
socialization of the child's behavior and by the fact that children
in a given social group tend to acquire a standard fund of knowl­
edge in s chool or in the course of everyday life. Of course, as
a child acquires this knowledge , his respons es tend to become
not only more like the responses of others in his social group
but also richer and more varied. Thus , along with a decrease
in the number of individual responses , we find that associative
The Environment and Children's Speech 57

respons es begin to move more and more along channels com­

mon to the group as a whole.
The developmental differences we noted in our children were
superimposed, so to speak, on underlying class differences of
a more basic nature. This is reflected in the fact that children
of cons ecutive age groups from the same social group were
much more alike in the s ameness of their collective experience
than children of the same age from different social strata.
Indeed, the barren and monotonous environment of the rural
child shows clear-cut differences from the rich, rapidly s hift­
ing environment of the urban s c hoolchild and homeless waif.
The uniformity and sameness of the responses of the group of
rural children were in sharp contrast to the richnes s and vari­
ety of the responses of urban children. But the problem goes
even deeper: a detailed analysis reveals notable differences
between these groups of children not only in the general nature
of their responses but also in the different degrees of social­
ization exhibited in various areas of childhood experience.
It was comparatively easy to quantify this observation and to
work out relevant indices for the level of socialization of child­
hood experience. The simplest approach was the following:
taking all the subjects belonging to one homogeneous group, we
recorded all the responses they gave to each of the test words.
This approach gave us the "response lexicon" of our children.
In examining this , we immediately perceived that the number
of different responses given to each word varied; some answers
were given frequently by the children (for example , 50% of all
the children gave the word "father" in response to the word
"mother") , whereas other words occurred only once. The fact
that most of the subjects gave identical responses in this cas e
o f course indicates that all the children o f this social group had
a homogeneous experience with respect to that particular asso­
ciation. On the other hand, a large number of nonrecurring
answers , some given only once, meant that a particular area of
experience was poorly socialized and that accidental, individual­
ized memories predominated over routine associations common
to the entire group.
58 A. R. Luria

We also worked out certain average indices extending beyond

individual, concrete spheres of experience; these indices mea­
sured the degree of sameness of responses characteristic of a
group and the average level of socialization of associative pro­
cesses in each particular group. For this we needed only to
take the average indices for the entire group of children on each
of the tests rather than averages fo r the particular words .
Thes e indices will provide us with some indirect idea of the
characteristics of the environment operating on the child, its
relative richness or barrenness , its constancy, and its variety.
Actually, the fact that a good number of responses were identi­
cal fo r the entire group indicates that the environmental influ­
ences operating on thes e children have been largely the same
fo r the entire group. A predominance of individual responses ,
'given only by some subjects , indicates the opposite.
We decided on three principal indices we thought would give
a fair idea of the factors in which we were interested.
1. The index of commonality (uniformity) of collective exper­
ience. This index was computed from the maximum number of
identical responses given to a test word and was expressed in
terms of the number of subjects whose responses to a particu­
lar stimulus were the same. (�)
2. The index of diversity gave us the oppos ite picture. It
was the total number of all different responses given to a stim­
ulus (or the corresponding average number of different respon­
ses for the given group). Of cours e, the index is invers ely pro­
portional to the first. We can expect that a more austere and
unchanging environment will produce a less variegated exper­
ience than a rich and changing environment. Finally, this in­
dex provides a rough idea of the proportion of individual asso­
ciations , atypical for the group as a whole, in a child's total
responses. The next parameter is especially useful in provid­
ing this information.
3. The index of individual responses, i. e. , the number of in­
dividual responses encountered in a given group only once. This
index has a particular importance also because usually a large
number of identical responses was given by two or three chil-
The Environment and Children 's Speech 59

dren in our group, i. e. , they showed a relatively low level of

socialization. Without this index the degree of heterogeneity
of the respons es of the particular group could not have been de­
termined, and we would have lost a very important index for
characterizing the group.
As we shall see , all thes e parameters were relevant to our
analysis , and help us to delineate the specific features of the
collective experience of the children of different social groups.
Table 3 gives a summary of the average values of these in­
dices fo r each of the groups of children we studied.

Table 3
Homogeneity of Collec tive Experience of Children
from Different Social Groups (in %)
Homogeneity
of collective Individual
Subj ect experience Variety Responses
Rural child 35.7 49 .6 15
Urban child
(yoWlger) 16 67 54
Urban child (older) 1 9 .2 47.5 33.9
Homeless urchin 17 56 41

Even a superficial glance at the figures in this table invites

some very interesting inferences. Our attention is drawn es ­
pecially to the fact that the first of our indices - the homo ­
geneity of collective experience - was very high for the rural
children: whereas an average of only 1 6 % of the young urban
children gave common responses, this figure for rural children
was approximately twice as high (35. 7 %) . We consider this fig­
ure one of the most important in the entire study. Indeed, we
can imagine how unchanging and monotonous their environment
must have been for one-third of the children to have responded
identically to the test words ! Of course, such an unusual homo­
geneity of responses is pos sible only when the environment in
60 A. R. Luria

which the child grows up is relatively austere and remains the

s ame , year in and year out. Urban conditions , which are richer,
more varied, and more subj ect to change , will not, of course ,
produce such uniform responses; and the figures clearly bear
this out. The figures s howing the number of purely individual ,
solitary responses given by our subj ects are especially demon­
strative of this fact. The rural child gave very few (only 1 5 %)
of these one-time responses deriving solely from personal, ran­
dom experience, whereas more than half of the urban child's
respons es (54%) were of this type; even for the older s chool­
child the number was still 33.9%. These figures are, moreover,
extremely typical. The unchanging and relatively austere en­
vironmental influences of country life do not leave very much
opportunity for the chance, individualized experiences that differen­
tiate one person from another. Even though the rural child may
think that the word association he gives as a response is out of
his own head, in actual fact it is merely the environment speak­
ing through him; and he hims elf unconsciously responds in a
way typical for his group as a whole. Although we like to re-
fer to the peasant's individualism, it is by no means the kind of
individualis m that strives to maintain some of those unique fea­
tures that distinguish one person from another. In fact, it is
precisely these unique features , these specific differences , that
are rare in the associations of the rural child. These asso cia­
tions are to a great extent the reflection of the conc rete environ­
ment in which the rural child grew up.
In our data for rural children, the figures for individual re­
spons es diverge radically from the corresponding figures for
the other social groups , thereby serving as further evidence
that developmental differences are manifested only against a
background of class differences.
We have some interesting data that s how us the tremendous
s ignificance of the concrete sociohistorical conditions for the
development of a child' s psychological experience and for the
level of socialization attained by this experience. The material
obtained with rural children in our experiments was gathered
in a typical rural village, very quiet, remote from the city,
The Environment and Children 's Speech 61

from the district capital, and from the railroad. The environ­
ment in such a village is characteristically monotonous and un­
changing, and these conditions will yield results like those just
discuss ed.
We were also able to make another study, not included in this
essay, on children of a large village located near a railroad and
of a regional city on which the economy of the village was eco­
nomically dependent. This difference was enough to give us a
completely different picture. Instead of 35% uniform responses ,
we obtained a figure of only 24 %; on the other hand, the variety
of the responses increased sharply. Of cours e, our uniformity
index of collective experience was still higher than that of the
urban schoolchildren, but it was far lower than that obtained
for children from a typical country village, isolated from the
influences of the city.
However, we may go even further in our analys is. We may
ask ourselves whether all spheres of experience are of equal
social significance for children. Will we find that the percent­
age of responses that are the s ame for the entire group is the
s ame for every test word , regardless of from what area of ex­
perience that word has been taken ? O r , on the contrary, will
we find that conditions to which the children of the group are
ac customed and which influence the entire group in the same
way will give us the maximal number of uniform responses whereas
words taken from strange areas of experience to which not all
the children have been exposed will give the most individual
responses , showing a wide range of variation and randomness
for the group as a whole ? It is reasonable to assume that where
environmental influences are restricted to a narrow range of
s ituations , such a difference will be great and that, on the other
hand , if the child' s environment has provided him with a suffi­
ciently rich and varied experience , these differences will be
minor.
To begin, we shall compare the responses of rural children
with those of the older urban children, on the one hand, and with
homeless children, on the other.
T able 4 shows us the indices of s ameness of collective exper-
62 A . R. Luria

ience for children from different social groups , but this time
the figures refer to the values obtained when the test words are
taken from different areas of social experience rather than to
the aggregate indices. The question we posed for ourselves
was: How uniform will the children's (rural, urban, ho meles s )
respons es be when they are given test words from home , s chool,
city life , etc. ?

Table 4
Uniformity of Collective Experience as Reflected in
Responses to Different Types of Stimuli (in %)
Social
Subjects Home School City life Nature
Rural children 40 40 16 20 16
Urban children
(older) 16.5 14 14 12.5 16.5
Homeless chil-
dren 19 20.8 18 1 6 .3 12
The data in Table 4 give u s an interesting picture.
We see that when pres ented stimuli taken from home and
s chool life , the group of rural children had an extremely high
uniformity index: 40% of all rural children gave identical re­
sponses; in the sameness and uniformity of their experience,
thes e subj ects far outstripped the others. But if we look at the
figures for test words assoc iated with city life , we find that the
number of children who responded with identical answers de­
creas ed to 1 6 %, i. e. , more than twofold. The figures here show
that everything associated with a primitive home and s chool en­
vironment was part of the collective experience of rural children
and that the monotonous environment was a major influence for
all of them. None of the responses to test words associated with
the city and with social life derived from such a uniform exper­
ience , and hence the number of identical responses was consid­
erably less.
But city children and homeless urchins did not exhibit such
The Environment and Children 's Speech 63

sharp differences in the sameness and uniformity of their col­

lective experience of different types of test words. The lives
of both of these groups were sufficiently rich and varied that
in no case was the number of identical respons es very high.
But their experience was rich and varied in all spheres : the
indices fo r even the most varied types of test words did not dif­
fer as widely as in the cas e of the peasant children. The indices
for the different types of test words differed very little; in fact,
only one decreas e was noted , and that was by only about 33 %
for the urchins ' respons es to test words associated with nature
(one could , of course , expect that street children would have a
minimum of collective experience in this area).
We observed an analogous but inverse picture when we ana­
lyzed the number of individual (single) responses given by our
subjects to analogous test words. Table 5 summariz es the re ­
sults.

Table 5
Number of Individual (Nonrecurrent) Responses
to Different Sets of Test Words (in %)
Social
Subj ects H ome School City life
---
Nature
Rural children 22 20 48 44 24
Urban children
(older) 42 50 50 48 42
H omeless chil -
dren 55 53 60 59 54

We s ee that the number of responses occurring only once in

rural children was comparatively low for test words associated
with the home and s chool and quite high when the children' s ex­
perience was of a highly individual nature (city, social life).
T he children had not yet been exposed to structured collective
experience in these areas , so that the high number of purely in­
dividual responses should not surprise us. The urban s chool­
child gives us a different picture. Although the number of in-
64 A . R. Luria

dividual responses is higher for these children than for the ru­
ral children, the diffe rences in indices obtained for different
types of test words are not at all great. Obvious ly, school stud­
ies and the influences of city life expose the child to experiences
in all spheres of life , and there is practically nothing that is
totally foreign to him. The material to which he is exposed in
his schoolwork makes nature and society just as acces s ible to
him as the direct impressions he receives from his environ­
ment. For the city child the world of immediate impressions
begins to give way to more mediated forms of experience, to a
wo rld of facts assimilated through communication, books , and
cultural influences.
It is enough to compare the respons es of the rural child with
those of the older urban s choolchild to observe this phenomenon
directly. Let us dwell on a few examples in which the responses
of a city child who has already had long exposure to the influ­
ences of school are compared with those of a 10-1 2 -year-old
rural child to the same test words .

T able 6
Analysis of Responses to the W ord "School " (in %)
Index of
Index of Index of individual
Subj ects commonality diversity responding
Rural children 3 7- 50 15 5
Urban children (younger) 14 60 46
Urban children (older) 11 61 53

Our first example is· the word "school" itself; the indices for
this word showed a wide range of variation for the rural, urban,
and street children. Table 6 presents a summary of these data;
we see essentially opposite pictures for urban and rural chil­
dren: whereas most of the responses of the rural children to
this word were of two kinds ("a building, " "learning") and, more­
over, a total of only 6 different respons es were given (in a group
The Environment and Children 's Speech 65

of 40) , among the younger urban children (44 in all) we obtained

27 different responses , and the same word was given by only 7
subjects . The results were the same for the older schoolchil­
dren: 22 different respons es from a total of 36 subj ects , the
same word being given in only 4 cases.
Table 7
Breakdown of Responses to the Word "School"
Rural children Older urban schoolchildren
1. Building 1 5 1. Pupil 4 1 2 . Shelf 1
2. Learning 20 2. Good 3 1 3 . Grade 1
3. Hut 1 3. Desk 2 1 4. Window 1
4. Barn 2 4. · Clas s 1 1 5 . Five 1
5. Is standing 1 5. Map 1 1 6 . Pretty 1
6. Teacher 2 6. Teacher 1 1 7 . Organized 1
7. Children 1 1 8 . Children's home 1
8. Building 1 1 9 . Group 1
9. Wall 1 20. No. 1 6 1
10. Floor 1 21 . Ass ignments 1
11. Stove 1 22. Big 1

T able 7 is an excerpt from some specific experiments listing

the respons es to various test words .
The uniform, almost stereotyped responses of the rural chil ­
dren and the wide range of respons es of the urban s choolchil­
dren are strikingly apparent, and no laborious analysis is nec­
essary to demonstrate that the foregoing data reflect quite spe­
cific environmental influences. As an illustration, let us take
two types of response to words rooted in the experience of the
rural child but known to the urban child only through indirect
experience; these examples will demonstrate the specific dif­
ferences in the responses in the two cas e s : our test words are
" rake" and "cart. "
Do we even need to point out how fundamental are the differ­
ences in the distribution of thes e respons es ? Both the concrete­
ness of the responses of the rural children and the sometimes
66 A. R. Luria

Table 8

"Rake" "Cart"

Rural Urban school - Rural Urban school-

children children children children

1. To rake 20 1. Shovel 5 1. To ride 21 1. Squeaks 6

2. Pitchfork 2 2. Pitchfork 5 2. Wheel 2 2 . Goes 5
3. Hail 1 3. Iron 3. Plow 1 3. Wood
4. Mow 2 (adj .) 2 4. Horse 2 (adj . ) 3
5. Plow 2 4. Wood 5. Sleigh 3 4. Sleigh 3
6. Shovel 2 (adj .) 2 6. Is ther e 3 5. Horse 2
7. Sickle 2 5. Lies 7. Harrow 1 6. Firm 1
8. Tree 1 there 2 8. Hitched 1 7. Loaded 1
9. Axe 1 6 . Sharp 2 9. Barn 1 8 . To ride 1
10. I'm carry- 7. To rake 2 10. Harness 1 9. To carry 1
ing 2 8 . Sickle 1 1 1. Hay 1 10. Squeaky 1
11. Hay 1 9. Saw 1 12. Roll 2 1 1. Good 1
10. Hay har- 12 . Log 1
vest 1 13 . Peasant 1
1 1 . Mower 1 14. Big 1
1 2 . Hanging 1 15. Black 1
1 3. Hammer 1 16. Wheel 1
1 4. There is 1 17. Coachman 1
1 5. Stick 1 18. Axle 1
1 6 . Peasant 19. Stands
girl 1 there 1
1 7 . Big 1
1 8 . Rake 1
1 9 . Is bro-
ken 1

quite general tone of the responses of the urban children stand

out. (The use of a large number of adjectives is characteristic
of literary associations and the low level of concreteness of the
object for the child doing the associating.) The unusual concen-
The Environment and Children 's Speech 67

tration of the rural child 's res pons es was significant: when 20-21
children respond as one voice, "rake" - "to rake" and "cart" -
"to ride ," two things stand out: the primitive action-word type
of respons e manifested here , and - more important - the high
degree of s ameness in the nature of the responses for the en­
tire group. We almost never find such uniformity among ur­
ban children. Such results can be generated only by a primitive
and unchanging environment. In these cases the rural children
typically had an unusually small number of nonrecurrent an­
swers (only 4 for "rake" and only 6 for "cart") , whereas the
number of such answers among the urban children was far high­
er ( 1 2 fo r "rake" and 1 4 for "cart").
However, we find a completely different picture when we look
at the respons es to words not derived from the immediate ex­
pe rience of the rural child , i.e. , words that are still largely
strange to him . Let us again take two words - this time "union"
and "truth" - to illustrate what we mean. The first of
these is from social life, whereas the second is an abstract
term for the rural child.
The marked differences between the two cases are obvious .
T he rural children displayed an extremely varied pattern of re­
sponses to both words. Thirty different answers to the word
"union" were obtained from 40 children, and 22 of these occur­
red only once; about the s ame picture is seen in the case of the
word "truth. "
The content o f the responses in the two instances is also quite
typical. T he rural children understood the word "union" in the
s ense of a cooperative union, a shop, where they could buy cal­
ico, boots , etc. , whereas the urban children, without exception,
understood union to refer to a social or political organization.
T he responses of the rural children to the word "truth" were
also inappropriate in the vast majority of cases , whereas those
of the urban children clearly demonstrated that they had an ade­
quate grasp of the word' s meaning.
But in this study we were not interested in the children' s
ideas ; we wished only to point out the considerable value of an
association test for the purposes we had set forth inasmuch as
68 A. R. Luria

Table 9

"Union" "T ruth"

Rural Urban Rural Urban

children children children children
1. I sell 1 1. Youth 6 1. I tell 4 1. Untruth 1 6
2. Members 1 2. Workers 4 2. I read 2 2 . Lie 3
3. Shop 6 3. Councils 4 3. Dove 1 3. C rooked-
4. Coopera- 4. Soviet 4. Crooked- ness 3
tive 1 (adj . ) 2 ness 2 4. Good 2
5. Meeting 1 5. Workers 5. I love 1 5. To speak 2
6. Trade 3 and peas- 6. Samovar 1 6. Stupidity 1
7. Proletar- ants 1 7. Cat 1 7. Newspaper 1
iat 1 6. USSR 2 8. Was justi- 8. Bitter 1
8. Moscow 2 7. Workers 2 fied 1 9. Party 1
9. We buy 2 8. Trade 9. Rails 1 10. My 1
10. Shopping 1 unions 1 10. Grandpa 1 11. Pupil 1
11. Council 2 9. Far away 1 1 1. Goes 2 12 . Not ful-
12. Calic o 1 10. Worker 2 . 12 . Purpose- filled 1
13 . Boots 1 1 1. Unity 1 ly 1
14. I sit 1 12 . Peasant 13 . Barn 1
15. Goods 1 (adj . ) 2 14. I be-
16. The boys 2 13 . Alliance 1 lieve 1
17. Rufusal 1 14. Milk 15. Earth 1
18. I don't (adj .) 1 16. Was 2
know 1 15. Ally 1 17. Untruth 1
19. School 2 16. VLKSM 1 18. My 1
20. Building 1 19. Brother 1
2 1. Goats 1 20. Old lady 1
22. Boat 1 2 1. I hear 2
2 2 . Book 1
 The Environment and Children's Speech 69

"Union" "Truth"

Rural Urban Rural Urban

children children children children
23 . We holler 1 23 . I wrote 1
24. Teacher 1 24. School 1
25. Pencil 1 25. Songs 1
26. Let' s go 1 26. Sleep 1
2 7. Hand 1 27. Teacher 1
28. School 1 28 . Right 1
29. Together 1 29. I think 2
30. Necessary 1 30. I don't know 1

it made it unnecess ary to pose questions directly to the subjects

and ensured that the results would be less arbitrary and more
objective.
As we have seen, different areas of experience revealed dif­
ferent levels of socialization for the rural and the urban child.
Moreover, the empirical facts s how that pedagogy has com­
pletely different tasks to perform in the city and in the country,
i.e. , each of these environments has its own specific problems
when it comes to specifying and ordering the fund of social ideas
possessed by children reared in thes e two environments .
We have intentionally omitted dis cussing how the collective
experience of the homeless urchin is ordered and structured.
His responses display a whole array of specific features, and
will be dealt with s eparately elsewhere.
But our numerical data alone are enough to point out a num­
ber of features peculiar to the associative processes of these
children. We are struck first of all by the wide variety of their
responses . As a rule, we found no test words to which the group
of 46 urchins gave less than 1 8 - 1 9 different answers , and usually
the figure was much higher.
The reasons for this are not hard to understand: on the one
hand , the experience of the homeless urchin is incomparably
more diversified than that of a rural child or even of an urban
s choolchild of the s ame age. On the other hand, his individual
70 A. R. Luria

responses , which are connected with specific emotional config­

urations , give the urchin's associations an even more spe cific
character, and hence a greater variety.
However, it should be clear that against this general back­
ground of wide diversity, in which it is frequently impossible to
find any reaction distinct from the others that is peculiar to any
number of subjects , large or small, there are certain major ·

areas of experience which are extremely diversified and with

respect to which a collective experience common to the entire
group is nonexistent.
This brings us to one of the most interesting findings of our
study: the areas of experience that are most commonly part of
the collective experience of the normally developing child are
the least common for the homeless urchin. What could be more
intimate and more familiar to a child than his home ? There is
surely no other area of experience in which respons es are likely
to be mo re invariable and uniform. The group of 40 rural chil­
dren gave only 1 1 different respons es to the word "house , " and
2 (hut and barn) accounted for 27 anwers . T his could hardly
have been otherwis e: for these children the hous ehold is the
focal point of their lives , and it is not surpris ing that the most
s imilar aspects of the home situation produce the stablest and
most uniform impress ions on the minds of the children in this
group. The exact opposite was the case with our street children.
Whe reas the rural children gave the most uniform respons es
to the word "house," the street children gave the most varied
answers , and in this respect behaved quite true to form.
Only three answers were given by as many as three street
children , and these were extremely typical fo r them: "is burn­
ing" (a response that, however strange , we did not encounter
in any of the other groups of subjects ) , "bed ," and "cow. " The
first answer's association with the street experience of the ur­
chin, and the latter's association with vestiges of a rural rela­
tion to the home (the farm unit of house and cow) are quite ob­
vious . Characteristically the test word "home" provoked 8 4%
different respons es , and of these , 70 % (31) were purely individ­
ual, occurring only once.
 The Environment and Children 's Speech 71

Table 1 0

"House"

Street children Rural children

1. Cat 1 20. Mama 1 1. Barn 14
2. Room 1 21. Garden 1 2. Shed 1 3
3. White 1 22. Cow 3 3. Garden 2
4. Is burning 3 23. Horse 1 4. Drying barn 1
5. L amp 1 24. Hut 1 5. Stands the re 1
6. Whe re one 25. Porch 1 6. Home 1
lives 1 26. Wood (adj . ) 1 7. Village 1
7. Tables 1 27. Bench 1 8. Where you live 1
8. Roof 1 28. Yard 1 9. Hut 1
9. Fence 1 29. Wall 1 10. Our 1
10. C hurch 1 30. People live 11. Wood (adj .) 2
11. Black 1 there 1
12. Windows 2 31. Stone (adj. ) 1
13. Red 1 32. Barn 1
1 4. Class 1 33. Clock (ex-
1 5. Stairs 1 traneous) 2
16. Chair 1 34. I don 't know 1
1 7. Frying pan 1 35. Books 1
18. Street 1 36. Home 1
19. Bed 3 37. Knob 1

It is quite understandable that this extreme variety in the re­

sponses given by the street children is tied in with the high de­
gree of variability and diversity of the experience of these chil­
dren, who have grown up without any direct exposure to the in­
fluence of stable , familiar, more or less unchanging circum­
stances ; instead, the situations in which they find themselves
change rapidly and unexpectedly, literally kaleidos copically.
Some test words have completely different meanings for the
street child and for the child growing up in a home environment,
72 A. R. Luria

and hence will illustrate specific differences in the psychologi­

cal relief, so to speak, of these two social groups . The word
"kettle" or ''boiler" [ kotel ] is just such a word (Table 1 1 ).

Table 11

"Kettle"

Street children Rural children

1 . Boils 2 19. Iron (adj . ) 1 1. I cook 1 2

2 . You cook 6 20. Porridge 1 2. Cast iron 8
3. You must boil 21. Trunk 1 3. Father 1
it 1 22. Pot 1 4. Stir 1
4. Grounds 1 23. To be heated 1 5. water 3
5. Urchins 2 24. Fire 1 6. Fill up 3
6 . Lye 1 25. Stove 1 7. Put on 4
7. Cart 1 26. Potbelly 8. Pot 2
8. Kitchen 1 stove 1 9. Cup 1
9 . Steamship 1 27. On the train 1 10. Oven tongs 1
1 0. Big 1 28. Little kettle 1 11. Window 1
1 1 . Ring 1 29. Boilers 1 12. S amovar 1
1 2 . Basin 1 30. Table 1 1 3. Iron 1
1 3. Rails 1 31 . Shop 1 1 4. Jar 1
14. Soup 3 32. Goat 1
1 5. Steering 33. Spring 1
wheel 1 34. Kettle
1 6 . Cube 1 ( echolalia) 1
1 7. Water 1 35. I'll tell you in
1 8 . Floorboard 2 a minute ( re-
fusal ) 1

E ven a quick glance at Table 1 1 is sufficient to reveal that the

two groups have drawn their responses to this word from two
completely different areas of experience. All the responses of
The Environment and Children 's Speech 73

the rural children are associated with eating and the prepara­
tion of food (I cook, fill it up, put it on, etc. ) whereas for the
street children we can distinguish at least three completely dif­
ferent situations with which the word was associated (eating,
street kettles around which the homeles s and abandoned gather
to keep warm; travel - the boilers or kettles on a ship or train,
the "section" into which they get stuffed, and numerous other
s ituations specific to their lives). On the other hand - and this
s hould even go without saying - the street child and the rural
child are direct opposites as far as the uniformity of collective
experience is concerned. A constant environment identical for
all the rural children and a kaleidoscopically changing, individ­
ual, unstable , and diversified yet organized environment for the
street children are the distinguishing marks of the two groups.
T his is why the diversity of the res ponses of the street children
is two and a half times greater than that found in the correspond­
ing group of rural children.
We s hall not dwell further on the street child, his collective
experience, and his individuality; that will be dealt with els e­
where.
Let us merely make one comment of a methodological nature:
it is absolutely meaningless to study children divorced from
the environmental factors that s hape their mental makeup. How­
ever, most of the methods us ed in such studies have not been
sufficiently obj ective. The questionnaire , the survey, the inter­
view , o r studies of the "set of ideas " of a group have always
yielded results whose obje ctivity is open to serious question.
A study of a child's fund of associations such as we have carried
out, an evaluation of his collective experience and level of
socialization, and the uniformity of the responses of his entire
so cial group give us a good idea of those aspects of a child' s ex­
perience that are socialized and allow us at least to make indi­
rect inferences about the nature of the environment that has
s haped the child. We have gathered all our information fro m
"nonarbitrary" data rather than by posing questions to the child
directly; this of course enhances the clinical value of our data
74 A. R. Luria

and illustrates the importance of an associative experiment.

As a method it enables us to study the degree of socialization
of the content of a child 's mind and thus indirectly to explore
the intellectual "capital" of a given so cial group of children.

Speech Respons es and the Pedagogical Process :

It remains for us to say a few words about the implications

of our study for pedagogy.
The stimuli to which children will give the most invariable
and identical responses and to which their responses will be
most varied, more or less unsocialized, and individual are cer­
tainly relevant to education. The issue is what stimuli will pro­
vide the soundest underpinnings for educative processes.
However, one other question should be added: Which stimuli
are sufficiently understood by a child, and which have become
a stable and permanent part of the structure of his experience ?
A serious examination of this problem can provide us with some
basic guidelines for mapping out school curricula, and will help
us to guard against the premature inclusion in a teaching pro­
gram of certain elements that will actually only complicate the
normal learning of s chool material.
An associative experiment conducted with a particular group
of subjects could be a direct source of abundant material for
solving this problem. A particular example will illustrate what
we mean: The rural children used in our experiment were giv­
en the word "threshing floor" [ gumno ] as one of their test
words.
This word was chosen because it is specifically a rural wo rd,
and the experimenters thought it would be unde rstood by all the
children. However, it turned out that the peasants in the region
where the experiment was conducted did not use this word , and
in fact did not even know what it meant, or at least had only a
vague idea of its meaning. T he results revealed this immedi­
ately, and the pattern of responses is shown in T able 1 2.
We see that the respons es to this stimulus differed radically
from the average responses of the rural child in two respects :
The Environment and Children 's Speech 75

F irst , they were much more diversified: there were 30 diffe r­

ent res ponses , 28 of which occurred only once , the othe r 2 oc­
curring s ix times each ("I don't know ," and "To ride") . This
is certainly curious , but a look at the content of the responses
will clear the matter up. At least 17 -18 of all the respons es
were inappropriate ; they were entirely unrelated to the test
word. We can safely say , therefore, that at least half of the
children did not understand the test word , and that while 6 chil­
dren refus ed to answer ("I don't know") , 18 gave inappropriate
responses in an effort to lend this strange word some familiar­
ity.
Table 12
Responses of Rural Children to the Word
"Threshing Floor " [ Gumno ]

1. I go 6 11. Manure 1 21. Iron 1

2. To me 1 1 2. Plow 1 22. Please 1
3. Paper 1 13. Smooth out 1 23. Dove 1
4. Herd 1 1 4. Meeting 1 24. We thresh 1
5. Hay 1 15. On the bo r- 25. Our 1
6. Shed 1 der 1 26. Clock 1
7. Rais e a fuss 16. Let's take 1 27. Man 1
[ gomonyat ] 1 1 7. was 1 28. Mother 1
8 . House 1 18. Oats 1 29. Jackdaw 1
9 . Ears 1 19. Nose 1 30. I don't know 6
1 0. They say 1 20. City 1

We obtained such results only when words not used in the

particular region were pres ented, as in the case just described.
A number of especially abstract words (e.g. , truth, freedom,
thought, number, etc.) produced very similar results in rural
children.
Table 1 3 is a summary of results obtained on rural children
presented with such unfamiliar test words compared with re­
sults obtained with common and easy wo rds .
T he picture is very clear-cut and well defined.
76 A. R. Luria

Table 13 (in %)
Inappro- Appro-
Nature of Index of : Index of priate priate
test word diversity uniformity responses responses

Familiar words 30 62.5 7.5 92 . 5

Abstract words 71 12 69 31

Whereas 62 % o f the answers to easy, ordinary stimuli were

the s ame, this figure (uniformity index) decreased to 12 % for
difficult test words , fo r which instead we observed highly divers i­
fied, variable , and very individual answers . Further, whe reas
9 2 . 5 % of the answers to easy, common test words were appro ­
priate, only 31 % were appropriate for difficult and poorly under­
s tood words . It is therefore quite natural that under such con­
ditions no correctly conceived approach to teaching can afford
to neglect the "index of accessibility" of each stimulus used in
the teaching process ; we can therefore surmis e that the educa­
tional system of the future will employ accurately measured
indices of accessibility for all the stimuli a teacher might have
occas ion to us e. Only if this condition is fulfilled can the teach­
ing process hope to be sufficiently effective , and only then will
methods and techniques of teaching acquire precise foundations.
Of cours e, this "index of access ibility" will vary for different
ages and social groups . A quick glance at our material tells us
that words that are quite within the grasp of t he urban child are
largely out of the reach of the rural child, and that wo rds not
understood by younger children are easy and simple for older
children to understand.
Thes e observations are all obvious , and their detailed analy­
s is can await the place set as ide for them in the pres ent book.
An analysis of all aspects of our findings is beyond the scope of
this succinct outline .
We should once again stress that under certain conditions , a
precise, experimental, psychological experiment will be a nec ­
es sary stage in any concerted effort to improve the effectiveness
The Environment and Children 's Speech 77

of education; and if such an experiment is performed , it goes

without saying that the child-subjects should not be isolated
from their general historical circumstances. Education is al­
ways group oriented , and the teacher should focus on the so­
cialized aspects of his pupils as individuals .
A study of how a specific historical environment is reflected
in a child's mental makeup, how this environment helps to shape
the child's intellectual assets , how it determines ce rtain forms
of complex associative speech processes , and, finally, how cer­
tain clas s traits are created and leave their imprint on the con­
crete psychological characteristics of children growing up in
different environmental conditions - such a study will be suc ­
cessful only if a correctly conceived, experimental approach 'is
used. We s hall consider this array of problems in later stud­
ies ; but the pres ent book, with its modest examples of speech
and associative processes , is at least a beginning.

Notes

1 ) [ Speech and intellect in child development ] . Moscow ,

1927�
2) For a detailed treatment of this ques tion , see [ Speech and
intellect] , Vol . I.
3) Th. Ziehen, Die Ideenassotiation des Kindes , 1- 1898 , 11-
1 9 00.
4) Cf. Whipple, Manual , Vol. II.
5) J. Piaget, Le langage et la p ens e e de l 'enfant. 1924 .
6) In some cases , this index , which takes into ac c ount only
the maximum number of coincident responses , is replaced by
the sum of all responses that were repeated at least three to
f our times {in 8 - 1 0% of the cases) in the given group.

Translated by
Michel Vale
A. R. Luria

EXPERIMENTAL PSYCHOLOGY
AND CHILD DEVELOPMENT

It was not so long ago that investigators of human develop­

ment thought that the empiri cal study of the child was almost
completely impossible . The child was considered too variable
a creature, during hi s first years of life, to conduct experiments
on, so that one could assess child development in the best of
cases only by observations, by keeping diaries and su ch.
There has been a change in attitude in recent years in this
respe ct, however . It has not only proven possible to carry out
psychological experiments on children but indeed this has been
found to be the only way to arrive at any deeper under standing
of the broad outlines of child development or to study in their
developmental aspe cts the sources of those extremely impor­
tant forms of behavior that achieve their fullest development in
the civilized adult .
The work of Kohler, Lipmann, Bogen, and others on the first
manifestations of intelligent behavior in the child, of Jaens ch and
his s chool on the primitive forms of perception in children, of
Katz, Kuenberg, Eliasberg, and Weigl , on juvenile abstraction,
of Ach, Rimat, and Bacher on concept formation, of C . Bu hler on
group re sponses of small children, and, finally, the outs tanding
studies of Piaget on primitive thought in the child and of Lewin
on child behavior in a natural environment have all had an im-

From Nachnoe Slovo, 1 930, No . 1, pp . 77- 97 .

78
Experimental Psychology and Child Development 79

portant part in promoting the experimental study of children;

Volkelt' s review at the Ninth Congress of Experimental Psychol­
ogy was able to present a rather impressive list of experimental
studies of early childhood that are of unquestionable value .
We shall b e dealing with two problems that may b e counted
among the most timely topics in modern scientifi c study of the
child: the development of a child' s per ception of the external
world, and the formation of cultural skill s .
The fir st topi c concerns the ways a child establishe s contact
with the external world and how he becomes part of the system
constituting his environment. The se cond deals with how a child
gradually assimilates cultural experience and becomes an active
member of a cultural, laboring community .. . .
In this paper we have not wished to restrict ourselves merely
to pres enting what Western European psychology has already
a chieved. All this has already been analyzed, criti cized, and
defended by studies conducted by Soviet psychologists. The find­
ings we shall present below are the results of our experimental
resear ch at our laboratory at the Krupskaya Academy of Com­
munist Upbringing.

Development of a Child' s Per ception of the External World

How does the young child perceive the external world ? Re­
sear ch psychologists have been able only to venture good gue sses
as to what processes may be regarded as characteristi c of a
child' s primitive per ception of the external world.
Whatever we per ceive of the world is per ceived in a stru c­
tured fashion, i . e . , as a pattern of stimuli. We react and adapt
to these external stimuli, and indeed our entire behavior amounts
essentially to some more or less apt ac commodation to the di­
verse stru ctures of the external world. To adapt effectively to
the se conditions the individual must per ceive the various situa­
tions of the external world in as clear and as differentiated a
manner as pos sible, distinguish among them, and single out from
among the whole complex system of forms acting on him those
that for him are the most essential . The more differentiated
80 A. R. Luria

and subtle are our mental capacities in this re spect, the more our
minds will be able to dis criminate among the forms per ceived.
May we reasonably expe ct to find in the infant any measure
of distinct per ception of situations or of clear dis crimination of
forms ? There are no grounds to assume so, and indeed every­
thing indicates that the world of a child' s per ceptions differ s
quite sharply from ours a s adults and that, during the first
months of life, an infant doe s not per ceive dis tinct forms and
hen ce is unable to accommodate his behavior to them in any way.
Actually, a number of obje ctively and carefully performed
studies have shown that a child passes the first we eks of life in
a diffuse state between sleep and wakefulness . This primitive,
semisomnolent state and the child' s total isolation from the out­
side world are further exaggerated by the fact that the receptor s
necessary to per ceive the external world do not begin to operate
until rather late . For example, a child doe s not begin to fix his
gaze on shining objects until the age of 3 weeks, the eye begins
to follow a moving obje ct only at about the 4 th- 5th week, and ac­
tive eye movements and sear ch for an object that has vanished
do not appear until the age of 3 -4 months (Blonsky}. The upshot
is that until the age of 3 or 4 months , a child is sort of mentally
blind and does not perceive the external world in any distinct
forms . In fact, this chaotic, blurred nature of infantile per cep­
tion still lingers on for many months . The first thing to pene­
trate the shroud separating the child from the outside world
seems, judging from experimental findings, to be color and dis­
crete colored spots. In a series of ingenious experiments Katz
showed that a child of 3 -6 years may still completely ignore
shape and give marked preference to colors . In his experiments
Katz gave his child subjects a number of shapes ( cir cles, trian­
gles, squares} of different colors and asked the children to
mat ch them . Remarkably enough, in almost no case did the
young children match shape s, but mat ched colors instead . Ap­
parently, this color re sponse is more elementary and manage­
able for the child than a response to shape . In his inkblot tests
Rors chach (!) found that both children and primitive peoples saw
mainly combinations of shades of color in the blots and that only
Experimental Psychology and Child Development 81

subjects with a more differentiated mental makeup saw struc­

tures in them.
All the se considerations indicate that the per ception of colors
and colored spots is a more primitive, or elementary, and earli­
er pro cess than perception of stru cture, and that there is a peri­
od in an infant' s life in which all that he per ceives of the exter­
nal world consists of spots of light and color arranged in no par­
ti cular pattern or stru cture. As time passes, however, the child
begins to per ceive shapes and form; and this capacity then be­
comes one of the most important conditions for the organism, ad­
aptation, without which any further progress would be impossible.
But when does the external world begin to acquire a stru c­
tur ed appearance for the child ? At what point do dis crete, de­
fined stru ctures begin to crystallize out of the chaos of different
shades and hues ? This question is central not only for the psy­
chologist but al so for the epistemologist who wishes to build his
theory of knowledge on positive foundations .
Obviously, experiments aimed at penetrating the fundamental
mechanics of infantile per ception are hardly simple, and a great
deal of ingenuity is required to deal with this problem in the in­
dire ct way required .
In the following we shall des cribe some experiments carried
out in our laboratory to illustrate the degree to which infantile
per ception is structured . �)
To find some obje ctive measure for as certaining whether a
child per ceived a figure as a dis crete shape or as some jumbled
chaos of line s and dots we proceeded from the as sumption that,
when developed, the mind per ceives shape and form as a whole
and that it rather strongly resists breaking it down . If this were
the case and we constru cted a shape from individual, separable
elements , a child who did not per ceive the shape as a whole
would respond to it as an unorganized colle ction of individual
elements, whereas a child with a relatively developed, structured
per ception would relate to it as a whole, undissociable figure .
We had two groups of blo cks. One we arranged in a square,
and the other we spread about at random (Figure 1). Obviously,
a per son with a developed and differentiated per ception would
82 A. R. Luria

DODOO 0 0
see these two figures as two basi­
o a 0 0 0
cally different stru cture s : one would
0 0Do 0 0 D
0 0 0
D D 0 0
have no order to it at all , and the ob­
00000
a server could remove one, two, or
B A
even three pie ces from it without
harm, whereas the se cond would be
Figure 1 a self- contained whole, in which the
elements were arranged to form one
single stru cture that in a sense resisted any attempt to break it
up, i . e . , the Gestalt factor, linking the elements into one single
integral system, would be operative .
Doe s a child per ceive a square of this sort as an integral
stru cture, or is it still for him nothing more than a group of ran­
dom pie ces ? Would we be able to observe the same resistance
to ·breaking up an integral figure in a child as in an adult ?
Let us find out. fu the course of play, we had a child find
from among the others a block onto which we had pasted red pa­
per on the bottom, promising him a pie ce of candy if he found it.
We arranged the blocks in such a way that together they formed
a specifi c stru cture, one block being "extra. "
Figure 2 shows this arrangement . We then be- lgooo(i l
gan our game . r:; [_]
tJ 0
It is evident that if the blocks arranged in oonoCJ ,1
a square were not per ceived by the child as a ------·-

regular stru cture, the choi ce of the one block

Figure 2
with the concealed mark on it would be com­
pletely random, and each block would have an
equal chance of being picked. But if the child per ceived all 16
blocks as a square and the 17th as an extra one, then the rela­
tive stability of the square alone would make the child tend to
pick the extra one standing alone . Thi s would be a persuasive
demonstration that he per ceived these elements as a stru cture
with its own intrinsic consisten cy, existing as a separate, dis­
crete entity.
Our experiments showed �) that children of different age
groups responded in opposite ways to this task. Almost all chil­
dren 1 � to 2 years old picked up blocks indiscriminately, break-
Experimental Psychology and Child Development 83

ing up the square as they did so . Children 2 i to 3 years old or

more, on the other hand, without exception picked the extra block.
These children evidently found it very difficult to break up the
figure . No matter how many time s we repeated the experiment,
placing the extra block in different positions, we obtained the
same re sults : the square remained intact, and the children al­
ways picked the extra block that was not part of it. Even our at­
tempts to check the impul ses inclining the child toward the extra
block (by removing the rewards attached to it) altered the course
of events for only a short time. Thus, it seemed that for this
age group the square was a unified structure, difficult to break
up, and that all the child ts attention was concentrated on the ex­
tra block off to the side . This conclusion was further reinforced
in our experiments by the fact that even if we took one of the
blocks that was part of the square and placed it
so that the identifying mark was face up (Figure
00000 ° 3 ), the child would disregard it and still reach
0
o
a
a
immediately for the block standing alone, not­
D D withstanding the fact that he could have gotten
DODOO
his reward simply and easily by picking the
block lying there with the mark face up. That
Figure 3 is how strong the Gestalt factor, the discrete-
ness factor, was as a determinant and organizer
of the child's entire behavior .
We observed a profound and fundamental difference between
the behavior of 1 i - 2 - year-olds and that of 3 -4 - year-olds . The
behavior of the younger children was ill defined and unorganized
and appeared to be governed wholly by the child' s diffuse and
chaotic per ceptions . . . . The world first ceases to appear chaot­
i c and unstru ctured to the child some time between the age s of
1 i and 2 years . The first foundations for an organized per cep­
tion of the world, which subsequently trans forms the child ' s be­
havior so thoroughly, are laid down during this time . {!)
Psychologists have known that at about this time a child' s be­
havioral processes begin to be organized, the first signs of orga­
nized attention appear, and the child begins to single out particu­
lar obje cts in the external world and fix his gaze and, if one may
84 A. R. Lu ria

use the term, his entire behavior on them. This process is now
mu ch more intelligible to us. fudeed, it is at about thi s time that
the outside world begins to be perceived by a child as something
with a definite stru cture ; and it is quite clear that a child' s per­
ception begins to discriminate certain stru ctures in it that are
the most prominent while others that are less stru ctured begin
to function as background. The se stru cture s, which emerge from
a general background and coordinate the child' s behavior around
them, stand out as a "field of clear cons ciousne ss, " if we may
use a subj ective phrase . Only when certain stimuli of a situation
are singled out in this way does organized accommodation to
them first be come possible .
But what we have just des cribed here are nothing other than
the chara cteristic features of attention . It is chara cteri stic of
attention that it singles out some elements from a general back­
ground and allows others to re cede ; attention is marked, above
all, by the replacement of unorganized, diffuse behavior by orga­
nized response s concentrated on specifi c stimuli. Indeed, some
psychologists have corre ctly observed that our attention is only
the subj ective expression of the organization of our per ceptions
into particular stru ctures.
For instance, let us take a set of lines arranged parallel with
one another, as in Figure 4A, and compare the m with the configu-
ration in Figure B; in
-
both cases , A and B, the
r--
. ' '
number of lines is the
I I sam e ; but in A they are

I I
laid out in a uniform way ,
whereas in B a certain
stru cture has been given
A B
to them. A s a resul t, a
pe culiar change takes
Figure 4 place in perception :
whereas in A our gaze
glides smoothly over the pattern, di s criminating nothing against
the ba ckground of these monotonous lines, in B it concentrate s
on the two middle lines, which appear as a kind of pathway at the
Experimental Psychology and Child Development 85

center of a structured field, and we could say that our attention

is optimally concentrated on them . We are dealing with a simi­
lar process in the child, except that objectively one and the same
figure is first perceived by the child as an undifferentiated col­
l ection of elements, and only later does he begin to per ceive it
as an integral stru cture . Of course, either the figure itself or
whatever is interfering with it (depending on the conditions of
the experiment} begins to attract the child' s attention; in our ex­
periment, spe cifically, the separate, extra block served as a fo­
cal point against the background of the stru cture as a whole and
attracted the child' s elementary attention to it . . . .
After su ch te sts we may distinguish two fundamentally differ­
ent stages in the development of a child' s perception; a chaotic
and diffuse stage, and a stage of stru ctured perceptions, in whi ch
the external world first assumes distinct contours for the child.
These findings agree well with the observations of Maj or @),
who distinguished three stages of perception in experiments in
which he showed children colored pictures .
In the first stage the pictures appeared to the child as merely
chaotic combinations of colored spots; he evidently did not notice
the figures shown in them (at this stage a child will tear up pic­
tures like any other piece of paper). In the se cond stage the
child began to di scriminate the figures in the pictures, but from
all appearances did not differentiate between the picture of an
obj ect and the obj ect itsel f : the child would try to grab an apple
in a pi cture , tussle with a cat in a picture, etc . He began t o dis­
tinguish between an object and its image only much later . This
nai've relationship to shape remains a typical feature of a child' s
per ception for some time .
We noted the same features in the development of a child ' s
active behavior as in the development of his per ception. Exper­
iments we performed with children of different age groups will
illu strate the two stages a child passes through in his relation
to the things of the external world: first, a diffuse, unordered
stage, and, second, a stage in whi ch nai've perception of shape
predominates .
We made a cross out of blocks (Figure 5 ) and asked our sub-
86 A. R. Luria

0
j e cts to count all the blocks . We were not par­
0 ticularly interested in the actual counting (call­
0 CJ 0 .0 0 ing out the numbers), but in the order in whi ch
0 the child moved his finger from one block to the
0
0
next. The degree and nature of the order in this
process would show us, we thought, how a child
Figure 5 accommodated to a regular but relatively com­
plex stru cture at differ ent stages of development,
i.e . , how this stru cture determined the child's actions .
We gave 2-3-year-olds this task. We immediately noti ced that
a regular structure still did not elicit methodi cal , ordered behav­
ior at this age : when he counted the blocks , a child would point
to one block and then another in no order, jumping from one row
to another, leaving out some and counting others twi ce . His ad­
aptation to structure was clearly unsystematic. We have observed
the same type of behavior in many retarded children of much
older age , but at lower levels of development . This unordered,
unsystematic ac commodation later gives way to regular, orga­
nized, systemati c forms of behavior, although not all at once ;
one may say that first only the simplest stru ctures begin to
elicit organized forms of behavior . A child of 3 -4 years is able
to count a series of blocks arranged in a straight l ine correctly
and systematically (Figure 6 A), but still cannot respond in any
organized fashion to the stru cture of a broken line (Figure 6 B) ;
and the ability to respond
correctly to the structure of
a cros s, whi ch require s a 0 00 0 000
systematic switchover from
one intersecting line to an­
other, appear s even later . A

What we found espe cially

interesting, however, was that Figure 6
a child would not directly
acquire this ability to cope with a complex structure, but would
pass through a certain intermediate stage . Whereas for a 2 - 3 -
year-old the structure o f the perceived figure exer cised n o no­
ticeable influence on how he organized his behavior, in the next
E xperimental Psychology and Child Development 87

stage the structure wholly determined the child' s behavior . The

example of the cross shows this with spe cial clarity. A 5-6 - year­
old child would comply with our instru ctions to count the blocks
in the cross by doing so in the order in which he perceived them
in the cross arrangement. But since the cross consisted of two
interse cting lines , the child would count each line separately, so
that the block in the middle would be counted twi ce. Whereas in
the first stage each block constituted a separate , independent
item for the child, in this se cond stage his orientation was de­
termined by his perception of the overall shape , and counting be­
came a function of shape . Only mu ch later would this simple de­
termining role of shape be overcome ; and then, at the same time
as the child perceived an integral stru cture , he would begin to
dis criminate the individual elements as well . Thus we come to
the third stage , in whi ch the ability to ac commodate to a stru c­
ture in an organized fashion goes hand in hand with the criti cal
u se of su ch a comparatively complex process as elementary
counting. In this third stage the individual elements are differ­
entiated from the whole, and behavior begins to as sume a com­
plex and mediated nature ; a direct reaction to shape gives way
to complex, ac culturated perception, linked with abstraction of
individual elements. This differentiation of individual elements
in a shape has quite definite age limits, which although they de­
pend to a considerable extent on the complexity of the stru cture
itself, are still quite con stant.
Thus, we found (in an experiment done by the students Novit­
skii and Elmenev) that 62 .5 % of 4 - 5 - year- old pres choolers made
mistakes in counting a cross owing to holistic perception of
structure; in another group, of 8-9-year- olds, mistakes of this
type were made in only 6 .2% of the cases . When
OCD::::JD I a more complex figure (Figure 7 : blocks ar­
ranged as two intersecting squares) was given
I
D 0
0 00000
o o [J o
to the children, the number of mistakes made

ooocoOJ
OOOGO 0 (counting the blocks at the interse ctions twi ce,
0
or counting unsystematically, in no order) in­
creased to 100% for the pres choolers (5 -6- year­
Figure 7 olds) and remained at a high level even for the
88 A. R. Luria

older group (87 .5%) . The ability to dis criminate an individual

element within a perceived shape is a rather complex task for
children ; it is clear, however, that only after su ch an ability
has developed will a child be able to utilize complex forms
of thought requiring the ability to isolate individual el ements
at will, abstract them, and operate with them with relative eas e .
Thus we s e e that the path traversed b y a child' s perception
leads from chaotic, diffuse per ception, to a simple, holistic re­
lationship to shapes, to a complex, mediated accommodation to
them, combining holistic features with relative ease of discrim­
ination of individual elements .

The Development of Cultural Skills in the Child

An adult pos sesses a number of cultural skills . All are ac­

quired in the process of growing up and learning; and by the time
a child reaches school age , these skills are already to a consid­
erable extent automatic. When we read or write we do not really
carry out any complex psychological actions , but only automat­
ically reproduce te chniques we learned at earlie r stages of de­
velopment. If we wish to find out how cultural skills are devel­
oped, we must go back to the earlie st stages of their history and
des cribe the path they travers ed in the child' s mind. Let us take
the two perhaps most important cultural abilitie s, counting and
writing, to see how they develop in the child.

The Development of Counting

How doe s a child learn to count ? Posing the question in this

way will help us to follow the development of counting pro ce sses
in the child. We know that the abilities and abstract concepts
nece ssary for counting develop quite late, after a child has be­
gun s chool . But we al so know that pres choolers are able to per­
form simple operations of di vision, subtraction, and addition in
their play. Of course, these actions are not automatic for the
child; he must improvise . If a child does not pos sess the te ch­
niques of abstract counting, what does he use in their stead ?
Experimental Psychology and Child Development 89

What stages does counting pass through before it becomes ab­

stract and automatic ?
Experiments designed by E . Ku churin in our laboratory have
enabled us to describe the development of counting in the child
more pre cisely.
In his play a 4 - 5 - year- old subje ct had to divide a number of
obj e cts among 3 or 4 of his playmates . We gave our subj ects
complete freedom to deal with the problem in any way they wished
and re corded only those te chniques the child employed for di vi­
sion. We soon found that the children ac commodated to this prob­
lem in a variety of ways. The younger ones and the most re­
tarded tried to divide up the pile of blocks or tokens directly,
without using any auxiliary te chniques . They would assemble
the items on the table and then would apportion them ''by sight"
with their hands, shoving some to each of their playmates . This
was the very first, simple stage of accommodation to a di vision
problem . It involves a simple and direct operation; the process
is not yet differentiated into a series of successive te chniques
to facilitate division and render it more accurate . The result
of the division, of course , is inac curate and totally dependent on
what the child embraces in his field of vision . We may imagine
that a primitive adult would develop quite accurate di stribution
skills for dividing up his prey (by virtue of a splendidly devel­
oped dire ct perception of quantity) ; but a child, who does not have
such a finely developed capacity as primitive man, will never be
able to achieve anywhere near such accurate results with this
technique .
The process of di vi sion is shaped very differently in some­
what older children (5 - 5 i years old) . In this group we first no­
ti ce that the process of dire ct accommodation be comes differen­
tiated into a number of su ccessive operations, that the child ac­
quires a number of syntheti c techniques to aid division, and that
he first invents some cultural form for dealing with this compli­
cated task.
We note a pe culiar phenomenon in a child of this age : he does
not proceed dire ctly to divide up the elements among his play­
mates , but first performs a series of operations to help him
90 A. R. Luria

make the division more accurately. Without any prompting from

us, the children would begin to make arrangements of the blocks
(or tokens) and then distribute these to their playmates .
In our experiments the children made "sofas," ''tra ctors , " and
"mausolea" (Figure 8), and each of their playmates got one of
them .

Figure 8

Not yet able to count abstractly or to deal with the concept of

number, the child works out little helpful te chniques that enable
him to solve a problem that without them would have been insol­
uble.
By giving each playmate a tractor or mausoleum, a child made
the division corre ctly. The way devised was intelligible to him
and fit his purposes; he operated with con crete obj ects with
which he was familiar instead of quantities that were diffi cult
and strange to him.
But does this ingenious invention not resemble, to some ex­
tent, the device used by a primitive adult in his calculations ?
Has not the child, in his way, come spontaneously upon the same
method of counting as that used by primitive peoples ?
We shall put this qu estion aside for the time being, noting only
that at this point the child has definitely entered a se cond stage
in the development of his counting abilities . This stage of prim­
itive arithmetic is marked by the fact that the process of divi­
sion is now mediated: it takes place with the aid of a series of
auxiliary operations ; and for abstract notions of quantity, whi ch
are still lacking, the functional utilization of a number of con­
crete shapes is substituted.
Experimental Psychology and Child Development 91

But the development of counting in the child does not stop with
this. Clearly, though this elementary devi ce (sofas, tables, mau­
solea) helped the child count, it also limited counting and consti­
tuted an obstacle to its further development . The most impor­
tant limitation a shape used as a devi ce for di vision places on
counting is that it does not allow for any quantitative operations ;
it only enables the di vision to be made in one fell swoop, that is
all . If a "sofa11 a child uses for his division consists of six
pie ces , these pieces will always figure as a single whol e; no oth­
er element can be added to them , just as no element can be sub­
tracted . This makes the process of division extremely constric­
ted; and if a child uses such shapes for comparing and che cking
to see if the apportionment he has made is corre ct , he will have
each time to invent new shapes in suitable quantity in terms of
the number of elements going to each playmate.
Indeed, because of the primitiveness of this form of counting,
using obj e cts and shapes , the child is obliged to take the next
step toward developing counting by numbers and to make the
transition from obje cts to spatial figures . In this stage, a pe cu­
liar change takes place in the devi ces a child uses in counting:
instead of building figure s out of the blocks and then dis tributing
them to his playmates, the child puts the blocks in some spatial
order (column, row, etc . ) and then distributes the number of such
figures required to each of his playmates . These spatial forms
give the child considerably more freedom with regard to quanti­
tative operations . They are no longer spe cifi c sofas or tractors
to whi ch nothing can be added or from which nothing can be taken
away. The columns and rows are distinguished by the fact that
any number of elements can be added to or subtracted from them.
They are therefore no longer simple models of con crete figures,
but represent a transition to the spatial symbolization of quantity
in general . A child who has constru cted su ch shapes can move
elements from one figure to another to even them out and in this
way divide as accurately as possible.
This use of spatial , serial shapes, which we find among 5-6-
year- olds, not only is a further step toward achieving ultimate
mastery over arithmetic but al so marks a transition from con-
92 A. R. Luria

crete , object- bound notions to abstra ct notions of quantity, whi ch

makes arithmeti c operations freer and less primitive .
The overall evolution of arithmeti c skills is elegantly illus­
trated by the different attitudes, appearing at different stages.
of children toward the remainder in a di vision problem .
In the first stage we distinguished, namely, the phase of prim­
itive , dire ct division, no remainder exists. The child makes a
crude sight di vi sion, and as yet has no sense of a remainde r .
As a product of division, a remainder occurs i n the se cond stage,
in which it plays a rather important role. The most striking fea­
ture of a remainder in this phase is its indivisibility. If a child
builds four mausolea out of six pieces each, distribute s them
to four playmates, and still has enough blocks left to build an­
other mausoleum, he will not be able to distribute them . He may
build another mausoleum, but will then disregard it as belonging
to no one, or take it himself, but he will not try to distribute it.
The shape that enabled him to effect the di vision is itself whole
and indivisible, and at this stage the rules of division are quite
different from the rules of ordinary mathematics. At this stage
a remainder may be larger than the divi sor, but still be indivis­
ible. The child is able to cope with a remainder only in the next
stage , when he begins to employ spatial figures; but it is only
when abstract counting is fully developed, during the school- age
period, that he will have fully mas tered the problem of a remainder .
In our experiments we tried to shed light on the basic devices
used by a child who is not yet able to count . By observing in
what order the se devi ces appeared we were able to obtain some
understanding of the steps involved as a child develops cultural
counting abilitie s, and once again found telling evidence of the
trem endous and unique effort this little creature mu st make be­
fore he is able easily and automatically to perform numerical
operations that seem to us so simple and easy.

Development of Writing

An adult writes down something if he wants to remember it

or transmit it to others.
Experimental Psychology and Child Development 93

Group attitudes develop rather late in the child �), so that this
se cond function of writing does not figure in when writing is still
in its embryonic stages. As a means of remembering and re­
cording material, writing passes through a series of specific
stage s before it achieves an adequate level of development.
Writing is one of the typical cultural functions of human behav­
ior . In the first place, it presupposes the functional use of cer­
tain obj ects and devices as signs and symbol s . Instead of dire ct­
ly storing some idea in his memory, a person writes it down,
re cords it, by making a mark that when observed will bring the
recorded idea to mind. Direct accommodation to the task is re­
placed by a complex, mediated te chnique .
This ability to use an obj ect or sign, mark or symbol, func­
tionally develops rather late in the child, and in the pres chool
period we still are able to observe children whose way of coping
with certain problems is clearly primitive and unmediated, chil­
dren for whom the functional use of a sign is still a stage beyond
their reach.
For example, we may ask a 3 -4-year- old in the course of play
to note down in some way some material he has to remember .
In most cas es we find that even the mere thought of using some
obj ect or action to record, or not to forget, some item is still
wholly alien to the child. Without making. any attempt on his own
to record anything, the child will confidently as sure us that he
"can remember better that way. " The ability to mediate hi s
memory, to use some notation or mark, some "mnemo�otech­
ni cal 11 device , as it is called, in place of direct memorization
is lacking in a child at this level of development . . . . *
In our laboratory we have observed how a child devises prim­
itive mnemonote chnical and differentiated des criptive forms of
notation. Once symbolic writing has been invented, the situation
be comes mu ch more complex; and we are not yet able to say
with certainty whether a child would be able to invent su ch a
complex system on his own without outside influences . But all

*The material that follows here in the original is des cribed

in detail in the paper on writing. - Ed.
94 A. R. Luria

the forms of conventional symbolic language and writing in chil­

dren, the codes and cryptography that flourish during the school­
age period, are, of course, not a spontaneous invention, but an
imitation of the systems invented in the history of civilization
and handed down to children in school . Whatever earlier and
more spontaneous symbolic systems of writing may have existed
are for the time being unknown to us.
It is especially characteristic that once a child has learned
symbolic writing and has passed into this fourth stage, in our
count, the stage of symbolic cultural writing, he loses or dis­
cards all the earlier, more primitive forms and immer ses him­
self completely in this new cultural te chnique. We can now put
the child in any situation at all , and whatever the circumstance s,
he will try to use this maximally economical SY.stem ; any rever­
sion to his earlier , spontaneously devised systems will be un­
necessary and often even impossible for him .
Let us return briefly to the example of our experiments. We
gave school-age children the task of remembering a serie s of
digits . As an aid we gave them a piece of paper (but no pencil ) ,
a string, a bunch of straws, etc. In all cases the school- age
children would try to fashion something resembling a particular
digit out of the paper, but in almost no case tried to note the
figure by means of the quantity of elements.
Figure 9 shows a notation from a school- age child (8 years
old ) made with the aid of paper
and straws.
We see that the child made
his notes by tearing from the
paper marks that crudely re­
produced the outward shape of
the figures. When there was
no paper left, he u sed the straws
Figure 9 lying on the floor and made up
his own numerical shorthand,
with simplified, although recognizable, figures .
Under the influence of this task demand, whi ch was made pos­
sible by learning new cultural techniques, the child' s attitude
Experimental Psychology and Child Development 95

toward the devices he had mostly used during the preschool pe­
riod changed radically. When we gave a pres chooler grains or
pellets and asked him to use them to note numbers, he would do
this quite easily, setting off the required number of grains, etc . ,
in a separate pile. But a school-age child would solve this same
problem in a completely different way. From the grains or pel­
lets he would constru ct a symbolic representation of the digits ;
and when the process was made more difficult ( e . g., if the pel­
lets did not keep together, sliding over the smooth glas s surface
provided ) , the child would be more inclined to give up complete­
ly than revert back to old dis carded forms once he had used a
quantitative form of notation.
The development of the cultural skill s of counting and writing
involves a series of stages in which one technique is continually
dis carded for another . Each subsequent stage supersedes and
supplants the previous one ; and only after he has gone through
the stages of inventing his own devices and has learned the cul­
tural systems evolved over the centuries does a child arrive at
the stage of development that is characteristic of advanced, civ­
ilized man .
But a child does not develop at the same pace in all respects .
He may learn and invent cultural forms of coping in one area,
but remain at previous, more primitive level s in other areas of
activity. His cultural development is often uneven, and experi­
ments indicate that traces of primitive thinking often show up
even in quite developed children.
But for those involved in the practical tasks of child- rearing
and edu cation, the detection of these peculiar remnants of earli­
er stages of cultural development is a matter of primary importance .
When he enters school , a child is not a tabula rasa the teacher
may fashion any way he wishe s . This tablet already contains
the marks of those te chniques the child has used in learning to
cope with the complex problems of his environment . When a
child enters school he is already equipped, he already has his
own cultural skills . But this equipment is primitive and archaic;
it has been forged not by the systemati c influence of a pedagog­
ical environment, but by the child's own primitive attempts to
96 A. R. Luria

cope with cultural tasks on his own.

Psychologically, a child is not an adult in miniature . He fash­
ions his own primitive culture ; though he does not possess the
art of writing, he still writes; and though he cannot count, he
nevertheless doe s so. Empirical study of the se primitive forms
of acculturation will not only help us attain a better understand­
ing of the child but will also enable us to trace the genesis of the
most important forms of culturally acquired skills, which are
such important tool s in the life of the civilized, adult, human being.

Notes

1 ) Rorschach, Psychodiagnostik. 1923.

2 ) All the experiments we shall be dis cussing later on were
carried out at the Laboratory of Psychology of the Academy of
Communist Edu cation by laboratory workers and students .
3 ) The experiments were first set up, at our instigation, by
the student Fedorova.
4 ) In saying this we of course have in mind primarily the
child's responses to purely visual , mainly geometric structures .
It i s beyond question that a child re cognizes his mother, father ,
and other s familiar to him before the age of ti year s and that
in this regard the world assumes a structure of sorts already
mu ch earlier . In these cas es, however, the dis crimination of
familiar figures and faces does not take place in conformity
with the laws of a visual structure . This phenomenon is mu ch
more complex; and living, social contact with these people and
things and a number of educative, conditioned responses ac­
quired in the course of this contact here play a much more im­
portant role than visual structure. Hence, we may still regard
our experiments on elementary discrimination of geometric
structures as symptomatic of the general trend of development .
5 ) Major, First steps in mental growth. New York, 1906 .
6) Piaget mentions that in the pres chool period he only very
rarely encountered in children a desire to share with one an­
other, to engage in group dialogue, etc .
A. R. Luria

PATHS OF DEVELOPME NT OF
THOUGHT IN THE CHILD (!)

If with regard to epistemology dialectics is a general method

of inquiry, for psychology the process of dialectical thinking is
itself a subj ect of inquiry.
For the psychologist, dialectical thinking is a product of long
development and the most complex of the higher forms of intel­
ligence. Hence, it is quite natural for the psychologist to try to
trace the development of thought and to determine the sourc es
of dialectical thinking.
If dialectical thinking is the most advanced form of thinking,
possible only at the higher stages of evolution, it is natural for
scientists to want to study the phases that preceded it in the
evolution of thought, and perhaps to shed light even on the dia­
lectic of development of thought processes, by contrasting and
comparing complex forms of dialectical thinking with other,
more primitive form s.
Such a historical analysis should show us what forms of
thought distinguish primitive thinking, what categories and
m ethods are typical of it, and, on the other hand, what catego­
ries and methods of thinking did not emerge until later, becom­
ing fully developed only in the dialectical thinking of the civi.­
lized, adult, human being.
There are several ways one can approach the study of the de-

From Estestvoznanie i Marksizm, 1 92 9, No. 2, pp. 97- 130.

[No.�"""-l :.>ce •t iw•J. 1111<N1.�Vl'l \
97
98 A. R. Luria

velopment of thinking: one may trace the primitive forms of

thinking among peoples at a low level of civilization; one may
stop with animal behavior ; or one may study the development of
thinking ontogenetically, that is, by focusing on the first stages
of intelligent activity in the child.
In all these cases our findings would be qualitatively unique,
yet undoubtedly relatively primitive, forms of thought . An anal­
ysi s of each of these forms should reveal some of the unique as­
pects of primitive thought proces se s .
We shall b e concentrating here on a child' s thought, because
it is closer and more accessible to us and we are able not only
to observe but also to verify certain of its aspects experimen­
tally, and also because intelligence plays a quite spe cific role
in a child' s behavior and hence gives it a number of unique fea­
tures of its own.
Furthermore, in studies on children we are best able to ob­
serve directly how the thought of this creature, who has not yet
become a part of complex social life, is being molded and what
stages it pas ses through before it achieves the full- fledged sta­
tus of the thought of a civilized, adult, human being.
The purpose of this study is to investigate the thought of chil­
dren in the hope of finding in it some c lues to the prehistory of
dialec tical thinking and tracing the antithesis, but also the roots ,
of dialectical thinking i n the primitive aspec ts of infantile in ­
telligence .
We set out along two paths i n our pursuit of this objective :
1 . We studied child behavior, the techniques and devices the
child employs to cope with the complex problems he must face
in his environment .
2 . We studied the child' s verbal thought, the concepts he uses,
his logic .
The first path leads us into the realm of intelligent behavior,
which Thorndike described as characterized by a hierarchy of
skill s aimed at the accomplishment of new tasks . The second
path leads us dire ctly into those questions bearing on thought in
the most ordinary sense of the term, i . e . , a child' s judgments,
his views of the world, and his logi c .
The Development of Thought 99

No psychologist who thinks dialectic ally, however, would

dream of isolating one aspect of the question from the other. If
we want to study a child' s thinking, we must divide our attention
equally between the primitive features of his behavior and those
of the actual mental operations he performs in solving the most
complicated problems posed by his environment.
If the young child displays shortcomings and inconsistencies
in his logic and in the structure of his judgments, this must be
reflected in his behavior : if certain primitive features are typ­
ical of a child' s intellectual behavior, this should be reflected
in the most complex levels of how the child' s outlook on the
world is structured .
Let us first look at children' s behavior, therefore, and then
examine how they actually think (i .e ., we shall first examine
practical intelligence, and then cognitive intelligence), to see if
we can shed any light on what interests us .

Primitive Behavior

The Child' s Natural Behavior and Its Inherent Conservatism

What traits have we become accustomed to seeing in behavior

guided by dialectical thinking ?
A keen regard for the real, the ability to take into account all
sorts of changing conditions, so as to be able not only to adapt
to the real world but also to predict its dynamics and to adapt
it to oneself; a considerable plasticity and flexibility of behavior
that enable one to make use of different devices and different
means, depending on the situation; and, finally, the definitive re­
j e ction of all pat, ossified forms of behavior - these are the
traits of behavior that best reflect a dialectical method of thinking.
It is just these traits that we do not observe in the behavior
of the small child, however; they develop, we find, at a much
later stage . Indeed, we can even observe the very opposite
traits ; and it is these that constitute the groundwork for the de­
velopment of a child' s more complex forms of behavior.
The younger the child (or more precisely, the more primitive
100 A. R. Luria

his level of intelligence), the more unvaried, inflexible, and stat ­

ic is his behavior . Once a child has found a particular way of
dealing with a certain problem, he is unable to refrain from
using it under other conditions and to replace it with another
technique ; he tries to employ the same tactic everywhere; and
the more primitive it is, the more resistant and difficult it is
to suppress.
This has led a number of authors to claim that a child' s be­
havior is conservative (Werner, Sully, Skupin) . Habits developed
in early childhood are fixed and inert, and to gain control over
them requires considerable pedagogical effort. This inert, re­
sistant nature of responses is manifested especially clearly by
the small child when he tries to cope with complex problems
that are new for him; the small child' s behavior is distinguished
by the fact that he always tries to approach new and complicated
problems with the most primitive and habitual methods, which
he has solidly learned.
The small child' s behavior does not extend over a very wide
range : he has a few instinctive responses, which are innate and
modified in specific ways by influences from the environment,
and an assortment of habits, which have been inculcated in him
directly on the basis of these instinctive processes - this is re­
ally all we have on the positive side of the ledger for a young
child in the first years of life . On the negative side, however,
is the need to accommodate to dozens, even hundreds, of new
situations with which life confronts him at every turn.
It is perfectly natural that a child should tend first to rely on
the repertory of instinctive response s and primitive habits he
already possesses to deal with these complex new problems .
This confrontation with new problems and the child' s attempts
to cope with them directly produce a general conflict that, if
conditions are favorable, gives rise to new, more complicated
forms of behavior in the child as he develops . Let us look at
some of the findings .
The following examples are taken from experiments with re­
tarded children conducted by 0. Lipmann. {!) They provide us
with a lucid model of the primitive, rigid behavior of the small
The Development of Thought 10 1

child under complex condtions and give us some idea of the ba­
sic factors determining that behavior.
Lipmann actually only repeated with children Kohler ' s exper­
iments on primate intelligence, with certain modifications. The
simplest of these experiments went as follows: The experimenter
placed a toy on the upper edge of a blackboard, and the child was
supposed to get it. The edge of the blackboard was too high for the
child to reach with his hand. A stick lay near the blackboard, how­
ever, and with it the c h:ild could easily knock the toy down and get it .
Lipmann observed the behavior of children of different levels
of mental retardation in this experiment. He was thus able to
define the most primitive forms of child behavior, behavior that,
as we shall see , displayed distinctly conservative features, an
obstinate resistance to routine ways of resolving a complex
problem, and an inability to discard immediately methods that
were unsuitable in the particular situation and replace them
with others that were more appropriate .
Here are two protocols describing the behavior of two chil­
dren of different levels of development in this situation:

Subj ect A 8 years, 6 months old; severely retarded.

-

Subject stands in front of the blackboard and begins to

jump up and down, stretching out his hand toward the toy.
He was evidently unable to see that he could not get the
toy in this way.
Experimenter : You won' t get anything that way.
Subject continues to jump.
Experimenter : Look, you 'll accomplish nothing like
that; try some other way.
Subj ect stands on the desk, 0.75 m from the blackboard,
and tries to get the toy with his hands . ·

Experimenter : Well, what are you going to use to get

the toy ?
Subject looks confusedly at the experimenter, not know­
ing what to use to help.
Experimenter casually takes the stick and places it
near the blackboard.
102 A. R. Luria

Subj ect looks at him but does not do anything .

Experimenter: You can use anything you find in the
room to help you get the toy.
Subj ect: I don 't know . . . I can 't get it .
Subj ect B - 8 years, 2 months old; slightly retarded .
Subj ect: I can 't get it .
Experimenter: Think how you can get it .
Subj ect: I'll have to c limb up on the desk . (He tries but
fails, since he is too small to reach from the desk to the
top of the blackboard .)
Experimenter: Can't you get it in another way ?
Subj ect: I could use a ladder.
Experimenter: W e don 't have a ladder .
Subject climbs up on the desk again and tries again, but fails .
Experimenter: Can 't you do it another way ? Try, look
around .
Subj ect: Here, I can do it with the stick . (Takes the
stick, climbs up on the desk, and gets the toy . )

We see here two types of behavior differing sharply from one

another yet, in many respects, representing two rungs on the
same ladder .
One child, in protocol A, wanted to deal with the complicated
problem directly. He used the natural responses he had at his
disposal . He reached toward the toy, jumped at it, and then
stood up on the desk and again jumped. The total sensele ssness
and uselessness of this response did not deter him, and he con­
tinued in stereotypical fashion; even the experimenter ' s prompt­
ings did not divert him from these persistent, stereotyped efforts.
The distinguishing feature of the retarded child' s behavior was
his inability to check a cycle of responses once it had begun and,
within a reasonable time, to replace an inappropriate although fa­
miliar tactic with a new, more adequate one (this is a phenome ­
non very typical of each of the most primitive stages of behavior).
These responses, which are semi- instinctive, are repeated
conservatively, compulsively, without any regard for the particu­
lar situation; the child repeats the simplest actions without try-
The Development of Thought 103

ing any more complicated ones (e .g., using the stick to get the
toy), which would require curbing direct impulses and switching
to more complex, no longer instinctive, but cultural actions,
which are possible only for more developed children (protocol B) .
The most primitive forms of behavior in young children and
in retarded children are, at first glance, quite simple and ste­
reotyped. We might say that this persistent attempt to perform
a complex task by means of conservative repetition of the same
natural re sponses, regardless of changing conditions, is very
typi cal of a young child' s behavior. This stage predominates un­
til the age of 3, but frequently lasts even considerably longer .
We may observe a number of similar examples i n the behav­
ior of animal s, and they all show that this instinctive way of
coping with a problem is extremely me chanical and very rigid
and unvarying in its choice of means, quite independent of the
changing conditions .
Kohler performed similar experiments with a chicken. He
placed it behind a partition con­
sisting of three screens (Figure
1 ) and scattered grain on the
ground outside . The chicken was
unable to suppress his immedi­
ate impul ses and go around the
partition to get the grain; instead ,
he battered his head against the
screen in attempts to get directly Figure 1
at the grain and though, of course,
failing completely, persisted in this primitive blind behavior .
The chicken was incapable of checking these impulsive attempts
and going in the opposite direction, 180 degrees from the goal ,
in order thus to reach it.
It is interesting that the resistance and strength of these chicken
impulses could be measured, and Kohler managed to curb the di­
rect impulses and lead the chicken into the detour by turning the
partition so that the bird would have to make only a 90-degree
rather than a 1 80- degree turn to get the grain; this meant that the
chicken could make the detour without losing sight of the grain.
104 A. R. Luria

The stability of primitive impulses, their re sistance to inhibi­

tion, their total dependence on stimuli entering the visual field,
and the impossibility of replacing direct, impulsive efforts with
other, more adequate means are all typical behavioral features
of this species ; the rigidity and inertness of instinctive responses
are not overcome until the higher species, in which new, more
flexible means of coping with complex problems are developed.
For example, a dog is quite able to overcome a direct impul se
and make the 180-degree detour to reach a goal . For our pur­
poses it is important only to note that invariable , blind, and
rigid behavior in which only instinctive mechanisms are used to
cope with a problem is indeed the most primitive form of behav­
ior , and that it is in this pre-intelligent form of behavior that
the features most in contrast to the higher forms of flexible, in­
telligent behavior are most prominently displayed.
This conservatism in instinctive behavior in primitive specie s
is rather striking. Fabre gives the following surprisingly clear
example, showing the extraordinary conservatism of instinctive
behavior. He observed a species of wasp that made rather deep
holes in the sand. An insect would ordinarily fly up to the hole
with its food and leave it at the entrance, fly into the hole, and
if it noted that nothing had been altered, would then drag the food
in. Fabre tried to move the food left at the entrance a certain
distance away with the following result: not finding its food at
the entrance, the wasp would crawl out, fetch it, drag it back to
the entrance , once again leave it there, and crawl back into the
hole again, repeating the same cycle many times in succe ssion
(Fabre found that a wasp would repeat its inspection of the hole
as many as forty times in succession, following the same ac­
customed pattern of actions). �)
The invariance and rigidity of instinctive reactions and the
complete inadequacy of the animal's behavioral equipment when
faced with new conditions are clearly shown in this example ;
there i s no need to adduce further examples t o demonstrate the
extreme uniformity of instinctive behavior, which is unable to
take sufficiently into account the situation in which the individ­
ual must react. (!)
The Development of Thought 105

Intelligent Behavior and Its Primitive Forms

Clearly, the conservatism of natural behavior makes for situ­

ations that are plainly inadequate for coping with complex cir­
cumstances . New and difficult situations require much more
flexible forms of behavior, which can be effectuated only if the
animal (or child) employs new means appropriate to the given
situation. These means must be devised anew each time , in the
light of the changing conditions, and must accommodate to the
rapid pace of these changes . Instinctive and habitual behavior
must be supplemented by a qualitatively new form that is more
flexible and has more dynamic means at its disposal . Kohler' s
primate provides an example of this type of behavior, which in­
volves the suppression of direct, primitive impulses and re­
course to implements when the natural functions of organs are
inadequate .
The switch to the use of tools marks an extremely important
turning point in the history of behavior ; it gives behavior a wide
range of flexibility and opens up new means for dynamic adapta­
tion to complex situations. An animal or child does not learn
to use implements properly all at once, however. In the animal
(and at an even higher stage in the child) their employment re­
mains primitive for a long time ; and though this quite complex
stage of adaptation has been reached, it is still marked by the
deficiencies and shortcomings that are typical of thought at this
particular stage and that have their roots in the characteristics
of primitive behavior .
The primitive features of a child' s thinking show up particularly
prominently in the way the child handles things in the external
world - things he wants to use in dealing with complex tasks .
The ability to employ a particular implement or tool, i.e. , to
use certain things as means or instruments for achieving some
end, is unquestionably a spur to the further development of the
child' s intelligence and raises his behavior to a new level , at
which his relationship to things undergoes a substantial change :
it becomes incomparably more flexible and dynamic than it had
been before; and depending on the specific conditions of the task,
106 A. R. Luria

an obj ect acquires new functions in the child 's behavior, and
the child begins to relate to it differently.
In Kohler ' s primate experiments we already notice the begin­
nings of this dynamic, functional. relationship to things that de­
pends on the situation in which an object is found; a stick that a
monkey had earlier tossed about in a play situation assumes the
role of a pole on which the animal can climb, and in another sit­
uation may serve as an implement for getting a banana lying
some distance away. A hat with a wide brim as shield against
the sun in another situation becomes an obj ect for rolling a fruit
toward the animal, for getting at a stick, etc .
In short, a dynamic, functional relationship to an object as a
tool takes the place of an unvarying, absolute relationship; and
behavior becomes incomparably more flexible than at the lower
levels of the historical ladder.
But even these dialectical. aspects of behavior take time to de­
velop; the individual begins to use some things functionally, but
by no means al.ways with complete success .
This is because the functional. use of things usually develops
much earlier than an understanding of the actual me chanism of
dealing with them, i.e ., of the situation in which things really
may be rationally used as implements . The use of wood to make
a fire by rubbing was known to man at the dawn of civilization;
however, an understanding of the proce ss taking place in this,
the conditions under which it would take place most effectively
and those in which it would be impossible - all occurred much
later; and the ultimate view of this process required scientific
development. �) Clearly, when a device or technique is used
without understanding it, failures will occur that are rooted in
ignorance of the laws of their operation and in inadequate as­
ses sment of the conditions under which they operate . Behavior­
al. devices are not always used with succes s; and often if they
are employed primitively, their use is awkward and ineffective .
A dialectical. command of things and of one' s own behavior re­
quires time, and an analysis of the deficiencies and mistakes
made by a primitive creature in performing operations with
things provides a very illuminating picture of this phase in the
The Deve lopment of Thought 107

development of thought . An analysis of some findings may serve

as concrete examples of such instances.
We have already mentioned Kohler ' s observations on how a
chimpanzee used primitive implements . If a fruit the animal
wanted lay out of reach, the animal would use a stick to get it.
If the fruit hung too high, he would also take a stick, shove it
into the ground, and climb up it to get the fruit . There are in­
stances, however, that reveal to us the primitive nature of this
action. For example, in some cases an animal would take a long
straw instead of the stick, set it upright, and try to climb up it
to get the fruit. This outwardly expedient operation was in this
case employed inappropriately, not all the ne cessary conditions
were taken into ac count, and still the animal did not forgo the
operation. Clearly, the entire operation here bore the primitive
features of a stereotyped use of a technique; a closer analysis
reveals that the maneuver was not the consequence of an act of
intelligence of some order of complexity, but derived solely
from the external visual similarity between the piece of straw
and the stick. For the animal, the mere filling of a particular
spot in the visual field was sufficient to get the fruit; the condi­
tions under which the device would function were not sufficiently
taken into account.
We can observe this same insufficient regard for the particu­
lar conditions in children' s operations with implements . It is
especially obvious in them, be cause this naive physics is com­
pounded by what we may call a naive psychology, a naive rela­
tionship to one ' s own psychological operation, and a far from
complete understanding of the means used in such operations .
All this rests on the fact that a child learns to use certain de­
vices empirically long before he understands all the conditions
and mechanisms of such operations . When he has mastered the
various complex behavioral devices, he will have taken a tre­
mendous step toward developing maximal flexibility in his adap­
tation to the world. Unable as yet to use these devices, he often
displays primitive traits in his thinking.
An observation by L. S. Vygotsky �) is a brilliant example of
a child' s insufficient understanding of the conditions under which
108 A. R. Luria

his own psychological processes operate . A little girl who was

often sent into another room on minor errands noted that she
would perform an errand well when her mother repeated it to
her several times. Once when her mother sent her on an er­
rand, the child said : "Mother, tell me three times what I must
do"; and without actually waiting for her mother to do so, she
ran into the next room to do the errand. Thus, although the child
had made an accurate observation, she interpreted it incorrectly.
Not correctly discerning how repetition actually functioned, she
thought that the act of repetition had force in itself and that the
words needed simply to be repeated to ensure that the errand
would be performed properly. The child' s attitude here was ab­
solute : knowing that repetition would help, but not yet being ca­
pable of analyzing the relevant conditions, the child began to be­
lieve in the independent efficacy of the instructions, and her re­
lationship to her mother' s words assumed the nature of magic,
to use the expression of some authors.
One of our experiments will show graphically these deficien­
cies in a child' s thought, which we might describe as an absolute
relation to an object based on incomplete appreciation of the
conditions under which the object will help the child to perform
some task. (7)
We gave a�hild a toy piano (Figure 2) with the instruction to
hit some key for every picture presented (com­
plex choice response) . To facilitate the opera­
tion we allowed the child to place a mark on
top of the piano over each key (the marks re-
ferred to the picture cues) to help him in his
choice . So that the child could determine as
quickly as possible which mark ref erred to
which key, red paper arrows . (see the figure)
were pasted on the front of the piano, leading
Figure 2 from each mark on the top to the proper key.
The experiments yielded some extremely in­
teresting results . Despite the considerable difficulty of the task
(choice from among 6 , sometimes 8, responses), 5-6-year- olds
were invariably fully confident that they would be able to per-
The Development of Thought 109

form the task without any helping marks . When asked how they
expected to be abl e to hit the right key at the right moment, the
children would point to the arrows, saying, "The arrows will
show me . "
What does this experiment tell u s ? The children knew that
the arrows were there to show the way. In the initial experi­
ments a child would observe that the arrows did indeed show
which key was related to which mark. But the mechanism of
this empirically observed fact remained unintelligible to him;
and failing completely to take into ac count all the relevant con­
ditions, the child figured that the arrows in themselves would fa­
cilitate his task and show him which key to hit. The empirical
experience, the absence of any analysis, and the inability to take
all the conditions into account induced the child to ascribe some
power to the arrows to show the right way. The fact that sever­
al completely identical arrows were pasted on the front of the
piano did not confound the child, and to each instruction he would
answer confidently that the arrow would help him remember
which key to hit and when.
This incomplete appreciation of the conditions involved and
belief in the independent action (power) of a sign were not a ran­
dom occurrence among our 5 - 7- year- old subj ects ; we noted it
in another situation in the same experiment.
In the first series of experiments the marks we had the chil­
dren use to remember which keys to hit were pictures easy to
associate with the pictures that served as cues for hitting the
keys (for example, if the cue was a bell, the hint was a gong;
if the cue was an axe, the hint was a little boy cutting wood; if
the cue was a chair, the hint was a monkey sitting on a chair,
etc . ) . The children were able to perform the task successfully
using these hints .
To test the children' s relationship to the reminder pictures,
in the second series of experiments we had them choose their
own reminders from among several small objects we made
available (nails, buttons, feathers, etc .). Once again, among the
5 - 7- year- olds we found the same peculiar phenomenon confirm­
ing their primitive, magical relationship to a sign; the children
1 10 A. R. Luria

believed that any kind of reminding device would help them .

They would take any obj ect from the box indiscriminately, place
it in the required plac e, and show no further concern about re­
membering the co rrect key . The nail would remember said one
of our little subjects . This absolute relationship to a sign, with ­
out taking adequate account of the c onditions under which it
would operate, often resulted in a situation in which a child dis ­
tributed reminders (often completely identical) in front of every
key, in the belief that they, in themselves , would ensure that the
task was performed correctly.
On the basis of his empirical experience i n the u s e of signs,
but still not able to understand their mechanisms, a child takes
the more primitive way of asc ribing a magical independent pow ­
, er to these signs (a way that, we shall see below, is the simplest
and easiest for the child 's thought) .
A child 's practical thought, having led him to empirical oper­
ations with implements, does not go so far as the analysis and
understanding of the psychological mechanism necessary for the
use of these implements, and hence stops halfway along the
route toward the developed thought proc esses of the adult . We
can do no better than to quote Engels (�) on this point:

The basic features of the method [ of thinking] are the

same and lead to the same results in man and animals, so
long as both operate or make shift merely with these ele ­
mentary methods . On the other hand, dialectical thought -
precisely because it presupposes investigation of the na­
ture of concepts - [ my emphasis A. L. ] - is possible
-

only for man, and for him only at a comparatively high

stage of development . . . .- -- -

Operating with basic concepts and methods of thinking, but

still unable to study the nature of these concepts and methods,
a child shows us the primitive level of thinking that is typical
of him at the early stages of his development . These unique
features will become more apparent when we analyze a child 's
thought more closely .
 The Development of Thought 111

The Primitive Thought and Logic of the Child

Let us proceed directly to the problem of a child 's thought .
We should now inquire into how a child understands the things in
the world around him and how he operates with logical categories .
Such a n analysis should provide us with an insight into some of
the characteristic features of his thought, showing us that the
dialectical method of regarding things is the produ ct of a com­
plex development the child must pass through and that initially
his thought is characterized by a number of predialectical features.
A number of psychologists have already described some of the
feature s of children' s thought; most recently, the Swiss psychol­
ogist Piaget has devoted a number of intere sting monographs �)
to this proble m, putting the thought of a child and the various
stages through which it passes in sharp relief. (10) The small
child thinks concretely and is al most totally incapable of ab­
stract thinking; given the relative primitiveness of his intellec­
tual equipment, he is unable to take into consideration all the
conditions under which events occur. He is inclined to think ab­
solutely and nonrelatively, and to replace complex processe s in
his thinking with nai've, substantive forces without bothering to
analyze them more deeply. In short, this thinking still displays
primitive traits . To describe the se features is all the more in­
teresting since we often observe them in the thinking of many
adults. We may best proceed by analyzing in succession a num­
ber of typical characteristics of a child' s thinking.

The Concreteness of a Child' s Thought

Stern once observed that a small child is totally incapable of
abstract thinking. Any judgment a child makes is concrete, im ­
age -based, emotional, and directly related to his own life, his per ­
sonal interests, and the situation of which he is a part. A 5-6-
year-old is still incapable of complex reasoning; his judgments
are concrete and dire ct. He is unable to pursue a line of rea­
soning and sees every obje ct solely from his own point of view,
recalling directly the role of his own personal experience in it .
The s mall child is still unable to abstract from this personal ex-
1 12 A. R. Luria

perience, alter his perspective, or follow a general line of reason­

ing independent of a situation that is personally familiar to him .
Stern was the first to note this with any c larity . When he asked
a small child (age 4 years, 3 months) how many fingers he had,
he got the right answer; but when he asked the same child how
many fingers his father had, the child answered that he did not
know, that he only knew how many he himself had. Thi s narrow ­
ness of judgments, their limitation to the sphere of the child 's
own personal experience, is very characteristic of the small
child and is not wholly overcome until quite late .
Piaget demonstrates this very clearly . A child is unable to
abstract from his own experience in his judgments or to alter
the viewpoint acquired in his own concrete experienc e . Hence,
. he is completely unable to reason in abstraction from concrete
experience, abstracting logically first one side, and then anoth­
er, of phenomena. Here is a little conversation with a child to
illustrate this :
The experimenter showed a child a little box tied t o a
string; when the string was unwound, the box spun and
swayed slightly in the ai r.
If there were no air, would the box cause a wind?
Yes .
Why ?
Because there is always air in the room .
Yes, but if there were no air at all in the room, would
it still be the same ?
Yes .
. Why ?
Because a little air would always be left nonetheless .
The child acted according to premises furnished him by his
own experience . To alter it, to abstract from it and reason from
the standpoint of another premise was completely impossible for
him . The point of view provided him by his personal experience
was dominant for him .
We observe a similar situation with regard to the thinking of
primitive people. Wertheimer ( 1 1) , like a number of other au-
The Development of Thought 1 13

thors, describes cases in which a savage, when asked to count

to forty, would ask how he should do this, and understood the
task only when asked to count pigs . After reaching a certain
number, however, he refused to count further, declaring, "One
farmer doesn't have more pigs than that, and it is senseless to
count the pigs of different farmers . " The primitive, concrete
nature of thought that does not go beyond the limits of the indi­
vidual' s graphic experience shows up quite clearly here .
A 5 - or 6 - year- old is totally unable to form an abstract judg­
ment, and attempts to urge him in this direction are often total
failures. (12)
A child may reason about something only if he has seen it or
believes it. An adult reasons thus: "Let's suppose you are
right . . . let' s as sume that some condition is altered and that the
result of this would be some change in the process, " etc . Rea­
soning of this sort is completely alien to the child. All a child' s
judgments are guided by one point of view: his own. This point
of view is provided him by his own concrete experience, and it
is inconceivable to him to abstract from it and adopt another
viewpoint (an abstract one, or one of another person). Also, a
child's concrete thinking becomes absolute thinking.
Parallels taken from the history of thought only confirm that
the ability to abstract from a concrete initial point of view and
make some abstract assumption the premise of a whole system
is a product of a later period. An enormous amount of time was
necessary before thinkers could abstract from the concrete em­
pirical postulates of Euclid about parallel lines and make the
assumption that two parallel lines intersect under certain con­
ditions into the basis for an entire system of propositions. Non­
Euclidian geometry was possible only when this original con­
creteness of thought had been surmounted, which was not very
easy, even in mathematics .
The Absolute Character o f a Child' s Thought
The proposition just discussed, namely, that a child perceives
things concretely from the point of view of his direct experience
and often is al most totally unable to adapt to any other aspect,
1 14 A. R. Luria

leads us to a very important fact: a child tends to perceive the

outside world absolutely rather than relatively. He perceives
it directly, and this means that everything he perceives has one
predominant characteristic at each given moment. If this char­
acteristic changes, it is not because of external conditions, but
because the child' s emotional attitude has changed. At any given
moment a child' s judgments are absolute ; he has tremendous
difficulty learning categories of thought that enable him to see
a thing in the process of development and that are quite common
in developed dialectical thinking. A child' s judgments are not
based on consideration of an entire set of conditions : they are
the product of an immediate response to some feature observed
by the child alone .
Piaget (13 ) asked 5-6-year- old children what a brother or sister
was and received the unhesitating answer : a boy or "It's a girl."
The children gave absolute judgments : that not all boys are broth­
ers, that a boy must have a specific relationship to another boy
to be a brother, that the term brother is above all a relative
term - these things were beyond the children' s understanding.

Z . (5 years) asserted that a brother was a little boy.

Are all boys brothers ?
Yes.
Does your father have a brother ?
Yes, and a sister, too.
Why is your father a brother too ?
Because he is a man.
F. (6 years, 10 months). A sister is a little girl .
Are all girls sisters ?
Yes.
Am la sister ?
No.
How do you know ?
I don' t know how I know.
But I have a sister. Am I not her sister ?
Yes.
But what is a sister ?
The Development of Thought 1 15

A sister is a girl .
What is neces sary to be a sister ?
I don't know.

We see that these judgments are completely unmediated and

absolute; an unders tanding of the relativity of the concept of
brother does not develop until much later . Here are some ex­
amples of judgments from 8 - 9-year- olds, in which the element
of relativity now figures.

G . ( 9 years old) . It is when there is a boy and another

boy, and there are two of them.
Is your father a brother ?
Yes .
Why ?
Because he was born second.
So what is a brother then ?
It is when a second child is born.
This means that the first child is not a brother ?
No; it' s the second one, the one born later, who is
called brother.

Elements of an appreciation of the relativity of this concept

are quite clear here, but are not taken to their conclusion. A
brother is considered a child who was born second. Obviously,
the child was just calling to mind his own direct experience
("Look, now: a little brother has been born for you . "), which
was quite concrete; and the judgment here is only one step to­
ward the relative . According to Piaget 's observations, a correct
(relative) notion of this simple concept does not become estab­
lished until the age of nine .
Although we observe this picture in very simple judgments,
the nonrelative, absolute nature of thinking shows up much more
clearly in more complex types of judgments .
One of our experiments is a splendid illustration of the in­
ability of a child to take into consideration the dynamic nature
of a concept. (14 )
1 16 A. R. Luria

We know that if one gives a small child something (nuts, can­

dy, or simply blocks) , he will try to grasp as many as possible .
This tendency shows up especially clearly when a child is play­
ing in a group and some quantity of something must be divided
up among several children. For a child "many" means "good"
and always produces an impulsive response. The word "many"
may also acquire a negative meaning in a number of cases, how­
ever. There are a number of games in which the person who
has many extra cards or blocks in his hand loses . Clearly, in
these cases taking a lot of the items in the game (blocks, tokens)
at the beginning is something negative, and each player tries to
avoid doing so. "Many" in this case means ''bad"; and a large
quantity of things produces an averting response.
We tried to include a situation of "many" in a game with this
reverse instruction and found a substantial difference between
4 - 5-year-olds and 6 - 7-year- olds . Both groups understood the
instructions well . But whereas the older children related to the
notion of "many" differently, depending on the rules of the game,
the younger children were completely unable to understand that
their attitude toward many blocks should change with the changed
conditions of the game; and when they began a game in which the
first player to go out was the winner (each player would put out
one block in turn) and the experimenter asked the children to
divide up the blocks that were left among themselves, the younger
children reached toward the larger pile or tried to rake as many
as possible from the big pile and even quarreled among them­
selves about who got the largest (and clearly most disadvanta­
geous in the particular game) pile of blocks .
In this case the attitude toward a large quantity was firmly
established : "many" always meant good, and a situation that re­
versed the meaning of this word was totally disregarded by the
children. E ven the possibility of having a different attitude (un­
der different conditions) toward this phenomenon was simply not
understood by the children.
This lack of comprehension of the relativity of any judgment
on the part of a child is demonstrated with uncommon clarity
in Piaget's classic experiments and observations . . . .
The Development of Thought 1 17

This aspect of children' s thought and the gradual development

of judgments from absolute to relative are especially clear in
their judgment of right and left in one of Piaget' s experiments .
This test permitted us to distinguish the principal stages in the
development of relative judgments in the child.
The same object can be either to the right or to the left, de­
pending on where one stands . But a small child is totally unable
to grasp this .
A child' s first relationship to right and left (age 5 to 8) is ab­
solute : the child takes his place as the starting point, and "right"
and "left" are absolute properties of things in this re spect. That
an object may be either right or left with regard to some other
obje ct - this idea does not even enter the head of the small child.
A 5 - year- old can readily distinguish between his right and left
hands, but almost three- fourths of the children this age are in­
capable of pointing out the right and left hands of a person facing
them . The most difficult, almost insoluble, problem for the
small child, however, is to find right and left among three ob­
j ects placed on a table . If a coin, a button, and a key are placed
in a row in front of a child, he is totally unable to understand
that an absolute judgment is quite inapplic able to the button,
that it is to the right of the coin and to the left of the key. In­
deed, the very question is unintelligible to him ; and the ability
to answer this question, to grasp the relativity of these concepts,
does not develop until the age of 1 1 - 12 years. (15)
The structure of judgments of this sort is especially clear in
one of Burt' s tests, in which a child is told: Olya is darker than
Katy, but Olya is lighter than Nina. Who is the darkest ? This
test is soluble only for 1 1 - 12:-year- olds. Before this age, we
usually get results showing that relative thinking is still inade­
quately developed. On the one hand, the small children often give
us direct answers such as since Olya is dark and Nina is dark,
both are dark; and others see an insurmountable contradiction
in the sentence : Olya is darker . . . , and Olya is lighter . . . .

F. (9 years, 4 months) : There 's no way to know, because you

say that Olya is both lighter and darker at the same time . (16)
1 18 A. R. Luria

How can these features of a child' s thought be explained psy­

chologically ?
There are two crucial factors involved here : on the one hand,
the concreteness and image-based nature of children' s thinking
and, on the other, the relative weakne ss of their system of ab­
stract operations. A child who hears the above sentence imag­
ines in pictures the situations "Olya is lighter than" and "Olya
is darker than" and by the end of the sentence has forgotten the
relativity and contingency of these propositions . Of course, the
concrete pictures he has formed will be come mutually contra­
dictory. The image- based nature of thought makes for concrete
and immediate judgments. To go from absolute judgments to
relative judgments the child must first overcome this primary,
unmediated, image-based kind of thought . . . .

'
The Nai ve Substantivism of a Child 's Thought

The properties of a child' s thought we have just described

go hand in hand with another feature that is even more char ­
acteristic : a child will in most cas es formulate his thoughts
about the most complex dynamic processes with naive con­
creteness .
For instance, imagine the conditions necessary to be able to
conceive of ice, water, and steam as stages in the same proces s .
In such an operation not a trace is left of the immediacy o f naive
thought; and a concrete, eidetic relation to it, such as the child
has toward discrete objects that have nothing to do with one an­
other and are complete, independent items, is replaced by a
much more complicated process based on considerable empiri­
cal experience, in which the focus is on the dynamics of the
change involved and on the continuity among these phenomena.
How much simpler is a direct relationship to ice, water, and
steam as discrete, particular obje cts, as static things� Of
course, the naive, realistic thinking of the child is much less
intricate, and we should not be surprised to find that this nai've,
substantive relationship totally dominates the s mall child' s
The Development of Thought 1 19

thinking, in which the most dynamic processes and the changes

they cause are often seen as independent phenomena.
There is nothing more dynamic than the wind, and perhaps
there is nothing simpler than understanding the wind as air in
movement that may be evoked by any physical action. We find
that for the small child, however, this is not yet the case .
Piaget, whom we have already mentioned many times, con­
ducted some interesting experiments with children that demon ­
strated this point quite graphically . He took a simple rubber
ball, punctured it with a pin, and by squeezing it and letting go,
let the air in and out . He then tried to find out how children un­
derstood this phenomenon. The results were quite remarkable .
Children in the 4-6-year age group did not conceive the "wind"
coming out of the ball as air set in motion by squeezing the ball ,
but as a phenomenon with an independent existence, depending
little on the squeezing of the ball ; in short, they saw the wind as
something with a permanent existence, capable of coming and
going, so that the wind coming out of the ball was totally identi­
cal with the wind blowing down the street. Here are a few typi­
cal experiments (17) :

S . (4 years, 6 months )
Look what I am doing ( experimenter squeezes the ball,
directing the stream of air to the child' s face ) . What is
this ?
The wind blows when you move your hand.
Where does it come from ?
From the street.
Is it still there ( the ball is completely compressed, all
the air has been squeezed out of it ) ?
No.
Where did it go ?
It went away.
Where ?
Through the window .
How ?
When it was open.
120 A. R. Luria

But it' s not open now, is it ?

No.
(The experimenter straightens out the ball as the child
looks on.) Where did this air come from ?
From the street.

The naive, substantive nature of this judgment is quite evident.

The wind coming out of the ball came from the street . For the
child there is nothing unexpected in this . But what is important
here is that this is the same wind the child has been used to ob­
serving in the street; and when the ball again inflates, it is the
same wind that goes into it. This primitive judgment precedes
an understanding of wind as the result of mechanical movement,
and the child relates to wind naively as a substantive entity . . . .
The process we have observed, the child' s transformation of
a dynamic function into a static situation, is especially evident
in children' s drawings .
Let us imagine that a child must depict some movement, e .g.,
the movement of a rolling ball or the movement of a person over
some period of time . An adult has a number of ways of doing
this, developed in the pro­
cess of acquiring cultural
experience : he can draw a
figure and put a sign indicat­
ing movement before it (an
arrow, a line, etc . ), or he
l!an portray this in some
schematic way. But the
small child does not yet have
these means, and he will
most often employ a device
the French psychologist Lu­
quet (18) has called the de­
vice of repetition. If a child
is called upon to describe
some action graphically, he
Figure 3 will simply draw an acting
The Development of Thought 12 1

figure several times in one picture, as if breaking down the ac­

tion into individual components .

Here is a little example from Luquet' s book. Using the

picture in Figure 3 , a 5-year-old little girl wanted to tell
the story about a woman who bought a doll . The child de­
picted the inside of a store, showing the woman entering
it (Al ) and the sales clerk inside (B 1 ) . Then the salesclerk
went to the window where the doll was lying. To show this
the child drew the clerk again (B2 ) . The clerk took the
doll and went to the cashier to pay the money (B3 ) and then
gave the woman the package (B4), after which the woman
left the �tore and went home (A2 ) .

This primitive repetition of a figure in motion describe s an

entire complex action. The Swiss psychologist Eng points out,
along with others, that this type of repetition was often used in
early Italian and Flemish paintings. (19) This method of repeat­
ing a sequence of static figure s to depict a complex action is
still not such an illuminating example, however. We are grate­
ful to I. D. Sapiro for an extremely interesting case description,

Figure 4
122 A. R. Luria

an analogue of which may, we think, be found in early childhood.

The patient he observed was suffering from aphasia and the as­
sociated impairment of intellectual functions . When the patient
had to portray on paper (the patient was an enginner, and in the
past had been an excellent draftsman) that he was strolling in
the hall, he showed his stroll by the drawing in Figure 4 , in
which we see the walk depicted as a series of repeated figures
of a walking man. With some of the most intricate intellectual
functions no longer operative, this patient resorted to primitive
repetition of static figures to illustrate walking . . . .

The Syncretism of a Child' s Thought

The examples we have given demonstrate the child' s unre­

strained tendency to generalize about things, to perceive them
in a diffuse, global interrelationship. In the perception of the
small child, "everything is connected with everything else";
but it would be wrong to think that this universal interrelated­
ness has anything in common with the interrelationships in dia­
lectical thinking.
For a child it is sufficient to perceive two phenomena at the
same time to draw a conne ction between them . The elementary
logical fallacy of post hoc - ergo propter hoc is replaced in the
child' s thinking by an even more primitive form of cum hoc -
ergo propter hoc.
How can we explain this syncretism of a child' s thought ?
Contemporary psychological literature points out a number of
factors that doubtless play a very crucial role in this . For ex­
ample, the fact that the child' s ability to use logic is not yet
fully developed, the specific function thinking performs in a
child' s behavior, which we shall discuss further on, the imme­
diacy, the uninhibitedness of a child' s responses, and a number
of other factors all have a part in the child' s syncretic judg­
ments . Of all the factors mentioned, we should like to dwell on
one that is especially interesting for us in the present context:
the narrowness of a child' s attention. Not possessing complex
schemata with which to mediate the intellectual proce ss (20), a
The Development of Thought 123

child' s attention is highly variable and susceptible to outside in­

fluences . As a rule, it is usually able to focus on no more than
one attribute of an object at a time , and this is generally the
most conspicuous, not the most essential, one . There is nothing
extraordinary about the fact that primitive generalizations made
on the basis of incidental attributes and insufficient appreciation
of all the conditions operative in a given case should be directly
derivable from such a structure in a child' s attention. (2 1)
We shall just mention two characteristic features of syncretic
thinking that flow directly from what we have just discussed.
First, there is the immediacy of a child' s judgments . Having
observed one attribute, the child, with extraordinary facility,
makes it serve as the explanation for the general phenomenon
of which it is a part, with total unconcern for the significance
this attribute may have relative to all the other attributes or for
the conditions on which it itself is contingent. Instead of from
prolonged observations or the perception of regular patterns, a
child' s thought will draw a conclusion immediately from his
knowledge of one attribute - a kind of short circuit in his
thought processes that the child is unable to restrain. If we tell
a child a story (as in Vygotsky' s experiments) about two boats,
one red with a number seven on it and the other white bearing
the number four and say that the first one sank, a child will,
when asked the reason, refer with extremely facility to one of
the attributes of the boats (color, number, etc . ) . The attributes
within the child' s ken are very easily transformed in his thought
proce sses into a factor with independent causal for ce ; and when
Vygotsky asked his 7- 8-year- olds what would have happened to
the boats if their numbers had been reversed beforehand, he in
most cases got the answer : "Then the other boat would have sunk . "
These observations bring us closer to the concept of causality
in children and caution us to deal very circumspectly with a
child' s causal judgments . What superficially may seem to us to
be a causal judgment may in fact be the mere use of an inciden­
tal attribute in place of an explanatory factor . We find an unusu­
al enlargement of the concept of causality that makes this cate­
gory lose all significance. The child's thought apparatus must
124 A. R. Luria

still undergo considerable growth and development in terms of

its complexity before this "short- circuit" type of thinking is re­
placed by genuine logical thinking.
Let us suppose, however, that in his judgment a child is still
guided by su ch immediate conclusions on the basis of one attri­
bute, although the grounds for drawing such a conclusion are
very few (often even nonexistent) . The child' s perception of
these attributes is quite variable; and although a judgment yes­
terday may have been based on attribute A (The sun does not
fall because it is hot), today we might get an explanation based
on attribute B (The sun does not fall because it is yellow). A
child' s judgments, defined as they are by the very narrow and
variable field of phenomena that attract his attention, are just
as variable as their data base and demonstrate the child' s total
ignorance of contradiction.
When Piaget demonstrated for his subjects the dissolving of
a green pellet in water, they explained it as follows (6 - 8-years­
old) : "The pellet dissolves because it is green." But when they
. were shown a green pellet that was insoluble in water, the expla­
nation was : "It does not dissolve because it is green. " The chil­
dren were not at all bothered by the fact that their judgments
were mutually exclusive .
Judgments of this short- circuit type, made on the basis of a
single attribute, cannot avoid logical contradictions ; but the con­
tradictions may escape notice be cause the judgments are outside
any notion of lawfulness . . . .

Paths of Development of a Child' s Thought

We have shed some light on the basic features of a child' s

thought and may now ask: How can the presence of such primi­
tive characteristics be explained ?
Of course, the most obvious answer is that the child i s still
inexperienced; he does not have very much knowledge ; he does
not yet possess correct and adequate ideas about a whole order
of things that to us are commonplace . What, really, can we ex­
pect from the thought of a creature who is just taking his first
The Development of Thought 12 5

timid steps along the road of knowledge ?

But this answer is satisfying only at first glance . Is it really
sufficient to postulate merely deficient knowledge in a person
to obtain those specific kinds of judgments, that peculiar kind
of logic, which we see in children ? Imagine initiating a conver­
sation with an educated, civilized adult on a subject he knows
very little about, e .g. , dis cussing mathematics with a historian
or mechanical engineering with a doctor . Will the switch to
these unfamiliar topics be sufficient to produce in these people
the same primitive ways of thinking we find in children ? To be
sure, the form of their arguments will change, and may exhibit
some feature s that seem primitive to us; but we can be certain
that we will not see a complete reversion to infantile thought
patterns . Instead, our partner will probably simply not continue
the conversation; he will profess his ignorance and listen atten­
tively to what we say, only occasionally interjecting his own
com ments, which will actually be logical conclusions from what
we have told him or from his own experience .
A child placed in the same situation, on the other hand, be­
haves in a way that is in sharp contrast to what we have just
described. As a rule, every question will produce an answer .
His thinking, which is at the opposite pole from scientific think­
ing, is not re stricted by the cons traints of method.
A child begins to set up hypotheses of the rawest and most
arbitrary nature with extreme facility. His thinking is an im­
mediate generation of hypotheses ; he does not reason in accor­
dance with set, accepted patterns, but throws himself directly
into the problem, not at all concerned that he may perhaps not
yet have the adequate means to deal with it . Most difficult of
all for a child is to check the steady flow of responses that pop
into his head, and in this his thinking basically differs from an
adult' s . A child does not know much, but he is still unaware of
his ignorance . To achieve such an awareness requires at least
an initial ability to examine the nature of one ' s own concepts,
and it is just this examination that is still lacking in the child.
A child who is able to say "I don' t know" has already achieved
a considerable level of development in his thought processes;
12 6 A. R. Luria

indeed, we should measure intellectual development not in terms

of the quantity of knowledge the child has been able to amass, but
in terms of the number of "I don't know' s" we get in response .
Of course, the peculiar logic of a child' s thought is by no
means explained simply by his ignorance . Clearly this logic is
the window dressing for some more fundamental characteristics.
In fact, a child' s logic is very likely based on the specificity of
the functions intelligence is called upon to perform in a child' s
behavior , on the one hand, and, on the other, on the relatively
small extent to which the child has examined the nature of his
own concepts.
Changes in the functions of thought and in the role of thought
in a child' s behavior, the ac cumulation of experience and the de­
ve�opment of new, previously nonexistent methods of thinking,
and, finally, the development of the rudiments of operations
aimed at clarifying for the child the structure of his own thought
processes are all stages in the development of a child' s thinking.
Let us examine each of them briefly in turn.

The Structure of a Child ' s Behavior

and the Function of His Thought

By intelligent behavior we mean the behavior displayed when

a person called upon to deal with some problem or perform
some task restrains the first impulses toward resolving it,
works out a tentative plan in his mind (or even draws up a draft
plan), checks �t against the real situation, and having satisfied
himself that it is in order, sets to work. In short, we may de­
fine intelligent behavior as any mediated behavior in which be­
tween the task and action there is some intermediate system
that helps to solve the problem. To use Marx' s famous example,
we can call an architect' s behavior intelligent, but not the ac­
tivity of a bee .
Which kind of activity does a child' s behavior most closely
resemble ? Everything that we know indicates that its most
characteristic feature is its completely unmediated nature : a
child does not set up his actions after prolonged deliberation
The Development of Thought 12 7

and preliminary planning: his actions do not follow from hi s

thoughts. On the contrary, it would be more correct to say that
his thoughts are born of his actions . A child fir st acts and then
begins to reason. For a child, thought is not so much the regu­
lator of his actions as it is either a justification of something
he has already done (rationalization) or - and this is more usu­
al - merely the direct result of the impulse evoked by an action.
Not only does thinking play a secondary role in a child's be­
havior but its role is completely different and performs a com­
pletely different function than for an adult . Clearly, however,
this different role of thought is possible only if the stru cture of
all of a child' s behavior is also completely different. The child
must not be given complicated tasks with which to cope and
which require complex intellectual operations . Only if these
conditions are observed will the absence of the normal regulat ­
ing function of thought not have a harmful influence on the
child' s overall behavior .
If we examine a child' s behavior, we see that these really are
the conditions in which it unfolds . The child has much less need
to foresee and test his actions, to assess and plan them, than an
adult. The child is not yet actively involved in work relations .
He plays ; he does not yet work . And this is the basic, decisive
influence on the structure of his behavior. (22 )
Indeed, play t o a considerable extent eliminates from a child' s
situation the category of necessity, with its associated tasks of
verification, weighing, and planning. These are traits of the
kind of thinking that is part of a system of work relations in the
real world. If there is something a child lacks in the course of
his play, he does not have to mobilize all existing forces to get
what is needed : he need only alter the course of his imagination
a bit. In play, which lies beyond the category of necessity, what
is real and what is illusory are blended; reality is modified by
the imagination, and there is no need to alter the real situation
by introducing some devised expedients .
The behavior of the small child is governed very little by the
constraints of the real world, and this circumstance molds all
of his thinking. Here is an example from one of Stern' s diaries :
12 8 A. R. Luria

Gilda, age 2 years, 2 months . Gilda has a flat, rectan­

gular piece of wood in her hands, which she is playing with
as if it were a ball . Suddenly she puts it on her head and
shows me her "nice little hat . " A short time later it be­
comes a plate .

A thing changes its function in a child' s imagination from one

play situation to another : to come up with a pretend situation
to cope with a task is the easiest of all . Of course, the value of
su ch a solution measured in real terms is nil ; but in play this
is not important : what matters most is that it enabl es the child
to cope with complex situations without requiring complex (and
still undeveloped) intellectual equipment.

Primitive Logic . Transduction

Clearly, this sort of play behavior, in which the category of

necessity is still but vaguely operative , must have its own sys­
tem of thought, its own logic.
And in fact we find that it does, and that many of the primitive
feature s we have outlined are merely the product of this pre­
labor (and to a considerable extent primitively social) stage in
a child' s behavior . One negative feature was pointed to above :
thinking does not have a regulatory role in this behavior ; instead
it is born of the act and does not feature a system of logical op­
erations aimed at accomplishing some task . It is rather a chain
of dis crete associations, images, which arise under the influence
of an accomplished action. Images, judgments, and conclusions
are not viewed by the child as a means of resolving some task,
but are simply a reaction to the task. As such, once they have
occurred, they go their own way, unconnected with the task, nei­
ther returning to it nor helping to ac complish it. Piaget char­
acterizes this aspect of a child' s thinking as "immediacy and
irreversibility" and regards it as a fundamental aspect of the
mind of a child.
In the play s tage a child does not employ thinking as an orga­
nized tool he can use to solve a problem. A thought conveyed
The Development of Thought 129

to him does not serve as material for dedu ction. In his behav­
ior he does not use his thoughts for drawing conclusions . He
prefers to form his judgments directly, without a system of log­
ical constructs .
But a child learns ; he acquires experience and makes judg­
ments. If this is not logical thought, what is the basis of this
cognitive activity ? What is the logic corre sponding to this stage
in his behavior ?
A child learns from case to case; his judgments go from fact
to fact. Whereas an adult's judgments are ne ce ssary conclusions
from particular premises, the judgments of a child are direct
responses to obvious stimuli . The role played by logical prem­
ises in an adult' s reasoning is secondary to that of external stimuli
in the thought of the child. Instead of a logical process of rea­
soning, in the child we find a direct reaction to an object. (23 )
This kind of thinking creates its own logic, a logic that i s ig­
norant of the common laws of neces sity; in fact - if one may
use su ch an expression - it is a prelogical logic. Claparecte
and Piaget called this logic transductive logic, borrowing a term
from Stern.
Whereas inductive logic involves drawing conclusions from
the particular to the general and deductive logic goes from the
general to the particular, transductive logic dispenses with this
middle stage entirely. Transductive logic draws a conclu sion
directly from the perceived event; it is a logic that is ignorant
of the category of "rules" as a means of logical reasoning. A
child' s reasoning is only outwardly such: actually, it is com­
posed of a series of direct reactions to conspicuous objects,
with no elements of reasoning present at all and, as we have
s een, with total disregard of the binding nature of facts that are
taken as premi ses . . . .
T ransductive logic is a logic of direct relations to an obj ect,
not the logic of reasoning; it is a logic of particular conc lusions
that does not yet employ the derivation of general laws from a
knowledge of particular cases as a method of thinking; and, fi­
nally, it is a logic that does not require verification, because it
is untroubled by and oblivious of contradictions. Indeed, if the
130 A. R. Luria

category of general laws is completely lacking in a child' s logi c,

if hi s judgments are simple, unverified responses to particular
cases, how easy it will be for him to fall into contradictions and
how difficult it will be to notice them if he does not even pos sess
the category� In fact, a child who has just finished saying that
boats float bec ause they are light goes right on to say that
steamers float because they are heavy. His primitive mind has
not yet acquired an awareness of formal contradiction, because
he doe s not yet know general laws . A dialectical mind has out­
grown general laws because it knows these laws in their dynam­
ic state . A formal mind is in the middle of this dialectical triad.
Transduction is the first stage of primitive logical thinking,
and is born of the direct reactions of the child to things without
any ac companying awareness of these reactions, without reduc­
_
tion of particular case s to general laws, and without the use of
logical operations as the tools of correct thoughts .
Factors in the Development of Logic .
Socialization of Thinking
T ransductive logic lacks two factors : its judgments are de ­
void of any element of logical consistency (they are determined
by incidental impressions) and, viewed formally , they have none
of the characteristics of reasoning (they are given as direct re­
actions to an external stimulus). As a result, transductive logic,
the logic of the play stage in a child' s behavior, is not an ade­
quate tool for real coping with complicated tasks .
What are the factors that cause the child to move on to the
next stage of thought ? How does this incidental, unsystematic
logic of reactive thinking become the logic of reasoning thought ?
Two factors seem to be principally involved here : the child is in­
ducted into work conditions, and his thought becomes socialized.
Obviously, given his emotional, playful relation to life, the child
does not yet perceive the need for discursive, rational thinking
that tries to substantiate every judgment. This will be come
clearer if we consider the relatively minor role still played by
social conditions in a child' s thought.
Stern (24 ) observed that children do not begin to engage in
The Development of Thought 13 1

games of a complex social nature until quite late . During the

first 3 or 4 years, a child usually does not go beyond primitive
social games . In experiments conducted in our laboratory (25 )
w e obtained graphic examples of how 5- and 6 - year- olds were
still incapable of spontaneous division of labor . A group of chil­
dren of this age is in the best of cases constituted on the basis
of primitive imitation and almost never on the basis of differen­
tiated interactions and complex contacts .
This view was developed in an interesting (although in some
places questionable) manner in Piaget' s observations of chil­
dren' s spee ch. Observing children' s conversation, he found that
it by no means always had a communicative function. Much
more often children talk to themselves; and their speech, like
all their behavior, is egocentric. Even the liveliness exhibited
by a group of children at play Piaget saw merely as a phenom­
enon of group monologue, in which no child tried to establish
even the simplest form of verbal contact with the other children.
The number of such egocentric utterances is very high: for a
3 -4 - year- old, 6 0% of all utterances are egocentric; for 6 - year­
olds , it is still 43-47% , and for 7- year-olds, it falls to 2 7-30% .
This egocentrism characterizes the thought of a child, and Pia­
get noted that up even to the age of 10- 1 1 , a child still reasoned
only from his concrete point of view and in a conversation was
unable to assume the viewpoint of his interlocutor by substitut­
ing it for his own habitual egocentric attitudes .
E ven leaving aside questionable statements about the "asocial
nature" of primitive childhood thinking, one cannot doubt that
primitive forms of thought can be overcome only when the child
is placed in a system of more complicated social conditions .
Clearly, such egocentri c behavior does not require thinking
in forms that are intelligible to others, that is , forms that start
with commonly ac cepted facts (or facts that are accepted at
least by one ' s partner in the discussion) and that presume that
judgments are subject to verification and generalization. It is
understandable that egocentric thought is restricted to isolated
dec larations and exclamations in the course of emotional reac ­
tions to obje cts - short- circuit reactions, as it were, based on
132 A. R. Luria

the child' s immediate experience .

The transition to the logic of reasoning, the logic of binding
forms and mutual understanding, presupposes social contact.
Objective thought, which requires that judgments and the argu­
ments on which they are based be tested, is engendered by the
collision of one's own thought with the thoughts of others; it de­
rives from contact, from disagreement . Logic is born of dia­
lectics . As a child enters into social contacts, little by little
egocentric speech gives way to socialized speech, and the cate­
gories we see in fully developed form in the logic of an adul t
first appear in his thinking . Subj ective and casual reactions to
objects are replaced by a system of reasoning, and immediate
utterances are replaced by a tendency to substantiate and test
a judgment; the child begins to show concern that his utterances
be intelligible to others, thought begins to take note of contra­
dictions , and transductive, direct logic is replaced by judgments
based on conclusions drawn from general concepts ; in short, the
primitive thinking of a child becomes logical thinking when it
becomes socialized.
The child' s entry into complex and active social contacts
transforms his thinking in another indirect way as well . Com­
municative speech develops, and new and much more complex
forms and turns of speech are created . Expressions such as
"be cause , " "although, " "besides, " etc . , be come more than just
the external appurtenances of speech and serve to introduce new
categories into thiriking, to introduce some order into thought
processes by furnishing them with the categories of relation,
lawfulness, and consistency. Acquired externally, from encoun­
ters with others, these forms are first learned through imitation,
but later , imper ceptibly, reorganize the entire mind; they infil­
trate it, as it were; and from the external devices they original­
ly were, they become internal forms of thought . Observations
of children convince us that this is actually what takes place .
During the period following the first active social contact, we
see not only a reduction in the number of egocentric utterance s
and an increase i n the percentage of "socialized judgments" but
also the appearance, for the first time, of interludes of silence,
The Development of Thought 133

pauses, which are the first signs that the child is reasoning to
himself. Direct judgments, "short- circuits, " begin to be re­
strained, held back; judgments begin to be separated from stim­
uli by short intervals during which internal reasoning takes
place, and thought begins to precede action. Verbal thinking,
engendered by dialectics, assumes certain essential organizing
functions in the child' s behavior, and he begins his metamor­
phosis from a bee to an architect.

Factors in the Development of Logic .

The Verbal Implements of Thinking

In singling out the place in a child' s behavior that begins to

be filled by speech, we have arrived at an analysis of the major
transformation speech induces in the entire thought and behav­
ior of the child.
We regard speech as a powerful cultural tool that transforms
primitive, natural forms of behavior into complex, cultural
forms . One example will suffice to show that this tool, acquired
through social contact, transforms the entire sequence of acts
of primitive behavior and creates the first forms of planning and
regulative behavior . (26 ) . Let us try to shed some light on the
mechanism of solving some intellectual problem with nonverbal
and with verbal operations . The experiments of Jaensch (2 7),
in which he performed Kohler ' s experiments in an eidetic situ­
ation, appear to us to be crucial for an analysis of nonverbal,
primitive problem- solving. Proj ecting a fruit and stick with a
hook attached to it onto a screen for test subjects, he asked
them to concentrate on this situation; he then took away these
objects and operated only with the vivid image s the subjects now
had of them . When he then asked the subjects to imagine how
they could get the fruit, changes took place in the eidetic image ;
the stick moved toward the fruit and the hook grasped it . . . .
What we have here is a primitive form of adaptation to a visu­
ally presented problem. The changes the hand would accomplish
through action, these subjects, who were known to form eidetic
images, performed in the perceived image . Instead of motor
134 A. R. Luria

activation, sensory activation took place ; and the problem was

solved by shifting the trace excitations in the visual field. We
can see, however, that illusory problem- solving of this type
still plays a considerable role in the adaptation of behavior to
complex situations; it is conceivable that at primitive stage s in
the development of the mind, this preliminary assimilation of
trace images in the visual field was the first means by which a
person learned to cope with complex problems ; very probably,
this sort of sensory circuit was the origin of the first imagic
thinking.
Despite all the interest this sensory accommodation incites
in us, we are obliged to comment on one essential flaw . It can
play a role only in cases in which the problem is presented vi ­
sually and, moreover, when it is pre sented in one visual field .
If we move the fruit and stick into different visual fields, the
problem becomes insoluble by such a primitive method. The
limitations of this eidetic ac commodation are very narrow; it
is restricted to reactions to an immediately given visual field,
and there is no possibility of an active search for ways to solve
a problem.
But what an advance is made in the next stage of development,
when the individual acquires another form of trace excitations,
namely, speech, and when the comparison of eidetic images is
replaced by the comparison and combination of words . And how
much greater do the possible combinations of different condi­
tions become once they are freed from what is visually given in
tangible conditions ! A child who has a good vocabulary plus the
ability to use it is able to call on his experience by making ac­
tive combinations of all his previous experience ; he is no longer
limited to the mere eidetic recall of some situation. The pas­
sive comparison of obj ects is replaced by a new ability - the
ability to select objects actively after first solving a problem
at the verbal level .
Lipmann carried out a series of experiments that compare
well with those of Jaensch we have just described. Lipmann had
his child subj ects solve some practical problem like the ones
Kohler's primates had to solve . We have already des cribed
The Development of Thought 135

similar experiments in which the child subj ects had to get a toy
with the aid of a stick. From his observations of how the chil­
dren tackled the task by proceeding directly to the act, Lipmann
concluded that a child would be able to arrive at a solution to the
problem only after an object that could serve as an implement
was placed in his visual field along with (or right after) the ob­
j ect the child was supposed to get . The operation would then
flow directly from the perceived situation; the situation deter­
mined the action directly.
To determine the role speech could play in problem solving,
Lipmann introduced one modification into these experiments .
Sometimes he would stop a child who had begun to act and sug­
gest that he first solve the problem verbally, that is, that he tell
in words how he was going to get the obj ect. This radically
transformed the child' s behavior . Instead of proceeding grop­
ingly, by directly reacting to the situation, the child would first
work out the necessary combinations in words, devise a verbal
plan for solving the problem, and then put it into action in an or­
ganized fashion. By working out a plan of action verbally the
child was freed from the random encumbering influences of the
situation; he was no longer restricted to what was directly
placed before him . He took the stick (needed to get the toy) , but
this time did not have to wait until it caught his eye, but actively
began to look for it since he had already de cided to use it as a
tool . Verbal planning does indeed help to alter the function of
thought in a child' s behavior ; it transforms it from a reactive
me chanism, bound to the situation, to a me chanism that plans
behavior .
Some interesting experiments by Vygotsky illustrate this or­
ganizing role of speech quite well . Six- year- olds were placed
in a similar situation (the subjects had to get an orange with the
aid of certain tools), and 3 - year- olds had to observe the entire
process . The older children first tried to get the orange with
their hands, reached for it, stood on a chair, and made a number
of unsu ccessful movements . After some time they would finally
get the stick and roll the orange toward them .
When a 3 � - year- old was given the same task, he did not pro-
136 A. R. Luria

ceed immediately to act according to a plan, but first began to

reprodu ce in succession all the movements of the older child;
he did not just select those that served his purpose , but repeated
them all mechanically, imitating everything he had observed.
Without the planning function of speech, the child was not able
to solve the problem verbally first and then implement it in ac­
tion. His thinking was only an imitative reaction to the situation;
it did not command it.
There can be no doubt that by restructuring the entire process
of thinking, the acquisition of speech as a tool also gives birth
to new logical categories that radically distinguish this stage
of thinking from the preceding primitive , syncretic stage . We
should like to demonstrate that above all it establishes the cate­
gory of causality in the logic of a child .
A child who has learned to cope with particular situations by
reacting directly to them, acting first and speaking later, would
not have a sufficiently complete command of either the concept
of causality or the concept of su ccession. Simple experiments
will demonstrate this, and we pers onally have observed the truth
of this proposition many time s .
For example, let u s place before a child several containers
and in one of them place a nut . We do this in such a way that the
position or color of the nut will attract the child's attention. He
chooses this container, gets the nut, and when asked what im­
pelled him to make his choice, he answers that he took that con­
tainer because there was a nut in it (Vygotsky' s experiments) .
The effect - the final stage in the process - is here given as
the cause ; the re sult of the action is regarded as one of its con­
ditions . The child, in throwing himself directly into the situa­
tion, displays a logic in which the category of causality is com­
pletely absent.
The results we obtain are completely different in the case of
a child with whom we introduce speech as a stage in the prob­
lem- solving process, as an aid for solving the given problem.
In reasoning what he mu st do, a child no longer makes mistakes
like the one just described. For the fir st time , cause and effect
begin to occupy definite and meaningful places in his reasoning.
The Development of Thought 137

By spelling out beforehand in words the condition that will later

help him to solve his task, the child for the first time begins to
conceive of it as a condition or cause and the result achieved
with its aid as an effect . . . .
Verbal operations introduce another important change in a
child's thought : with them the child is for the first time able to
isolate, one at a time, the different features of a perceived situ­
ation; verbal operations carry a child beyond the elementary
diffuseness, the totalness of his perceptions, and enable him for
the first time to make the transition to an analytical approach
to learning about the world.
When a mother for the first time points out an object to a
child and names it ("This is a rabbit") she, as Vygotsky quite
correctly observes (28), is isolating that object from its sur­
roundings and creating for the child a totally new stru ctural fo­
cal point in those surroundings . The initial, undifferentiated
wholeness of a child' s perceptions is replaced by organized,
stru ctured per ception, coordinated around this isolated element .
The new denotation, the naming of a new obj ect ("This is a dish")
creates a new, temporary dominant in the child' s perceptual
field. In place of an undifferentiated, holistic perception (broken
only by permanent biological dominants - biological stru ctures,
to use Koffka' s term), the child for the first time perceives a
situation as a dynamic, changing structure or, more precisely,
as a structure with a dynamic, changing focal point. But when,
after dealing with a problem first on the verbal plane, with dif­
ferent combinations, a child begins to liken and compare the
most varied words (and hence ideas as well), which have not
even occurred directly in his experience, when he begins to draw
connections between them under different conditions and in dif­
ferent structures, his perception of the world be comes extreme­
ly dynamic . The child becomes aware that a particular object
may play a different role in different situations ; and his per­
ception, refracted through this prism, acquires a more dynamic
nature and he begins not only to perceive the world from a pas­
sive perspective but also, in perceiving it, to analyze it in order
to act upon it.
138 A. R. Luria

The appearance of analytic thought frees the child from his di­
rect perception of a situation and from all its chance attributes ;
hence we would say that the stage in which a child des cribes a
picture, called by Stern the first and most primitive, the stage
in which the child names individual figures, is already a very
high stage ; in any case, it is not the first stage in the develop­
ment of analytic thought. In singling out a particular obje ct
from its general background, the child replaces his global per­
ception with an analytic, discriminating perception, and this
prepares him for acting in the situation in an organized way.
Finally, and this is perhaps the most important point, with the
development of the forms of verbal thinking, the child acquires
a powerful set of tools with which he can fashion a series of log­
ical concepts to aid him in abstracting from the concrete diver­
sity of his perception of the world and to unders tand phenomena
in their mutual relationship, in terms of an ordered system .
. When Stern's 3 � - year- old asked, "Is today tomorrow ? Is now
today ? " we can see that she was trying with the aid of verbal
terms she knew to get a grasp on complicated time relationships
that still seemed chaotic to her . The child did not accomplish
this all at once . At the age of 4 year s, 3 months, Stern' s daugh­
ter was still confusing the term yesterday with the term today;
she grasped what they had in common (one day away from today),
but could not yet see the differences : "Today we 'll pack, and
yesterday we'll leave ." She did not have a complete grasp of
these concepts until the age of 5 � , when she expressed them in
a specific combination : "After the day after tomorrow is the
tomorrow of the day after tomorrow." (2 9) These logical exper­
iments are possible only after quite distinct and rich forms of
speech have appeared, and by mastering speech the child is able
also to gain command of his thought processes . . . .
The acquisition of certain tools of thought - we have dis­
cussed only speech here - transforms a child's thought pro­
cesses; thought and action now shift places, and the very func­
tions of thought are altered. A child' s behavior in complex situ­
ations for the first time is mediated by certain preceding pro­
cesses coming in between. Involvement in a verbal field takes
The Development of Thought 139

the place of direct actions and prepares the child for coping with
complex situations in a planned way. A child' s life experience
and logical experimentation cause primitive syncretic and trans­
ducti ve logic to fade from the picture, since they have no means
of dealing with the lawful, causal arrangement of things . Inner
speech is the next stage following egocentric and socialized
spee.ch; and once it is acquired, the child, for the first time, is
able to organize his thinking in the ways learned in his verbal
contact with other people (dialectic) and in coping with problems
(logical experimentation) . Thinking acquires ordered, organized
features .

Factors i n the Development o f Logic .

C larification of the Nature of Terms

A child' s play behavior, his primitive contact with a social en­

vironment, and defects in speech development do not completely
explain those primitive features of a child' s thought that distin­
guish it from the complex, mature thinking of an adult . To use
Engels 's expression, the "low level of examination of the nature
of concepts themselves" is the last factor responsible for the
primitiveness of a child 's thought; as this defect is gradually
eliminated, the child accumulates the foundations for organized,
practically correct, and logically stru ctured thought.
All that we know of children in the very early stages of life
indicates they are quite incapable of understanding the mech­
anisms of mental activity . . . .
What is the reason for this late appearance of the ability to
examine the nature of his own concepts in the child, and by what
means does he arrive at an understanding of the me chanisms
underlying his own psychological processes ? This question is
truly one of the most complicated of modern psychology, and we
cannot presume to give a sufficient and complete answer to it here .
Indeed, the as sertion that oneself and the laws governing one ' s
own activity (which would appear to be the most familiar to the
child) are learned latest may seem strange at first glance : nev­
ertheless, the most recent findings demonstrate that this is re-
140 A. R. Luria

ally the case, and that Engels was unquestionably right when he
placed the examination of the nature of one ' s own concepts
among the later stages of development of thinking. (3 0)
There are a number of reasons why an awareness of one ' s
own psychological processes should develop s o late .
Claparecte (3 1 ) studied these proce sses in the small child and
made a number of observations that led him to speak of general
laws governing the difficulty experienced by the child in acquir­
ing awareness of some phenomena (la loi de prise de conscience) .
Ac cording to his observations, a child becomes cons cious of a
process when in the course of carrying out some action he en­
counter s an obstacle . Processes that do not encounter any ob­
stacles along the way may take place without the child' s acquir­
ing full awareness of them, and an analysis of automatic actions
confirms this. We may ask in exactly what cases the child en­
counters su ch obstacles . Everything we know about the behav­
ior of the young child indicates that he reacts dire ctly to each
situation and that preliminary reflection does not play the same
role for him as for adults , that he acts first and reasons after­
ward. Of course, all the difficulties and obstacles occur on the
level of direct action, not in thought, and his awareness is di­
rected toward them . The child begins to be aware of and to
evaluate the mechanisms of the external world much earlier
than the me chanisms of his own psychological processes . . . .
The pos sibility of becoming cons cious of one ' s own psycho­
logical processes initially arises when a child' s actions begin
to be preceded by some preliminary activity or work, when the
child begins to resolve difficulties and obstacles at the verbal
and conceptual levels rather than by direct action.
But the first definitive turn toward an examination of the na­
ture of one ' s own concepts is not pos sible until external speech,
which arises from the child' s encounter with operations and in
contact with other people, begins to "grow inward, " i . e . , when
it begins to be replaced by "internal speech . "
A number of studies by Ameri can psychologists have shown
that the process of gaining awareness is very closely connected
with the process of speech, and that the unconsciou s element in
The Development of Thought 14 1

our behavior may quite accurately be called "the unverbalized"

element. (3 2) This is surely why we cannot expect any really
effective efforts from the child to examine the nature of his own
concepts . We know that inner speech appears quite late in the
child; the role of egocentric speech in his behavior begins to de­
crease, and reflective pauses begin to appear only by the 7th or
8th years . (3 3) Until this process reaches completion, the child
simply does not have sufficient equipment to be abl e to acquire
an awareness of the mechanisms of his thinking with any degree
of success .
One more consideration will help us determine when to expect
this extremely important process, i .e . , the child' s advance from
a simple action to an understanding of the mechani sm by which
this action occurs .
A number of experiments, de scribed elsewhere (34 ), persuaded
us that in learning the various devices and modes of behavior,
the child starts with the external aspects, which are finally in­
ternalized. He begins to approach the world about him through
culturally acquired forms by learning, first, the outward mani­
festations of behavior . Such, for example, are the processes
Ko hler observed in higher primates ; and such, too , is the first
use of tools by a child, or the phase we observed ( Leont' ev and
Vygotsky) of using external devices to develop mnemonotechnical
memory or to develop attention. It is not until much later, when
the child begins to internalize these externally acquired devices,
that he begins to rely on internal behavioral means ; at that point
a profound transformation takes place in his entire behavior on
the basis of these sociocultural influences . This transformation
is further accompanied by the acquisition of a thorough under­
standing of the mechanisms of psychological pro cesses and a
tremendous broadening of the ability to examine the nature of
one ' s own concepts . Internal operations are supplemented by
new means and acquire a new significance in the child' s behav­
ior; they are put to the test more frequently and more thorough­
ly, and at the same time the child moves on to more refined
forms of coping with the real world, as the primitive forms of
thinking are replaced by more complicated cultural forms .
142 A. R. Luria

We should be quite eager to follow the further course of devel­

opment of a child' s thought, his rejection of the primitive pre­
logical phase, the next formal logic phase of development, and,
finally, the emergence of genuinely dialectical forms of thinking.
Unfortunately, however, we do not yet have sufficient material
to deal fully with this problem.
We do feel that it is proven beyond question that a child' s
thought begins with a phase marked by a number of primitive
features. This phase is the most primitive in the child' s devel­
opment and is fully explainable in the light of the spe cific con­
ditions in which a child' s behavior unfolds (the child' s primitive
social contacts, his disposition toward play), and from the spe­
cific function fulfilled by thought in the system of his behavior
as a whole . But the child grows out of this phase as he gets
older ; and under the influence of being involved in practical
work situations , more complicated, active social contact, the
use of new techniques of thinking, and, finally, the child's in­
creasing awareness of the "nature of his own concepts, " he de ­
velops a logic that, disc arding its primitive features, becomes
much more vital and practical.
Further research should tell us how these primitive forms of
intelligence break down and how the extremely complex, dy ­
namic forms of thinking observed at the highest stages of de­
velopment of human intelligence evolve in the proc ess of man ' s
active, practical engagement i n the world around him .

Note s

1) Talk given before the Society for Materialist Neuropsy­

chologists. Discussion paper .
2) See 0. Lipmann & H. Bogen, Naive Physik . Leipzig, 1 923 .
P . 109.
3 ) Cited in H. Werner, Einfii hrung in die Entwicklungspsy­
chologie . 1 926 . P . 74 .
4 ) See data presented by V. A. Wagner, for example : [ Com­
parative psychology ] . Vol . II, pp. 14 1 - 5 7 .
The Deve lopment of Thought 143

5) Engel s gives this example - [ Diale ctics of nature ] .

P. 181.
6 ) [ The history of the cultural development of the child ] .
In pres s .
7) This study, done b y u s together with N . G . Morozova,
will be published in its entirety in Tr . Psikhol . Lab . Akad.
Komm . Vosp.
8) [ Dialecti cs of nature ] . P . 5 9 .
9) J . Piaget, L e langage e t la pens�e d e l ' enfant . 192 3; Le
jugement et la raisonnement de l' enfant. 1 924 ; La repr�senta­
tion du monde chez l ' enfant. 1 926 ; La causaliM physique chez
l ' enfant. 192 7 .
1 0 ) We shall reserve our criticism of the methodological
flaws in Piaget' s constructs for presentation elsewhere ; be cause
of them, we are farced to interpret some of his conclusions
somewhat differently.
1 1 ) M. Wertheimer, Drei Abhandlungen uber Gestalttheorie .
1 92 5 .
12) We were able to obtain some vivid examples of concrete
and practical thinking in our analysis of the intelligence of vag­
abond children: [ Speech and intelligence in the child ] . Tr.
Psikhol . Lab. Akad . Komm . Vosp.
13) Le jugement et le raisonnement de l ' enfant . P . 136 . The
examples are taken from this work (pp. 13 8-3 9).
14 ) These experiments, like the others, were condu cted in
our laboratory at the Academy of Communist Upbringing.
1 5 ) Piaget, Le jugement et la raisonnement . . . . P . 156 .
16 ) Piaget, Une forme verbale de la comparaison chez
l ' enfant. J. Psycho! . (Paris), 18, 14 1 - 72 .
1 7) Piaget, La causaliM physique chez l' enfant. Pp . 18 - 19 .
1 8) Luquet, L a narration graphique chez l' enfant. J . Psychol .
(Paris), 2 1 .
1 9) H. Eng, Kinderzeichnen. 192 7 . P . 153 .
20) See Revault d'Allones , L ' attention indire cte . Rev. Philo ­
soph . 19 14.
� We shall not undertake here an analysis of the specific
physiological me chanisms responsible. for the variability and
 144 A. R. Luria

instability of attitudes in the child.

22) When we use the term "child" here, we are referring pri ­
marily to pre schoolers between the ages of 3 and 5 years; but
the features we describe may also often be found in older children.
23) We know that this position has to be accepted with a
grain of salt; it is not the characterization of the child' s think­
ing, but the traditional characterization of adult thinking that
we question . Does anyone believe that adul ts always draw logi­
cal conclusions from logical assumptions ? E motions and the
structure of one ' s visual and intelle ctual surroundings make us
think that the thought processes of adults are less planned and
logical than is usually assumed.
24 ) [ Psychology of early childhood ] . St. Peter sburg, 19 1 5 .
· P . 194 .
25) Experiments were condu cted by B. V. Belyaev- Bashkirov.
26 ) The problem of the transformation of a child' s behavior
under the influence of behavioral attributes acquired in the pro­
cess of assimilation of cultural experience is des cribed in
great detail by L . S. Vygotsky in [ The history of the cultural
development of the child ] .
2 7) E . Jaens ch, Zurn Aufbau der Wahrnehmungswelt . (2nd
ed. ) 1927. P. 1 95 .
28) See [The history of the cultural development of the chi ld ] .
29) W . Stern, Psychologie der fruhen Kindheit . 1928. P . 34 1 .
3 0 ) [ Diale ctics of nature ] . P . 5 9 .
3 1 ) E . Claparede , L a conscience de l a ressemblance e t de
la diff�rence chez l' enfant. Ar ch . Psycho! ., XVII .
32) J. B. Watson, The unverbalized in human behavior .
Psycho! . Rev. , 1924 .
33) See L . S. Vygotsky, [ Genetic roots of thinking and
speech ] . E stestvoznanie i Marksizm, No. 1 .
34 ) See Vygotsky & Luria, [ Studie s i n the history of behav­
ior ] . Giz, 192 5 . Vygotsky, [ Problems in the cultural develop ­
ment of the child ] . Zh . Pectol. , 1929, No . 6 . Luria, The problem
of the child's cultural behavior . J . Genet . Psychol., 192 8, Dec .
Translated by
Michel Vale
 A. R. Luria

THE DEVE LOPMENT OF WRITING IN THE CHILD

The history of writing in the child begins long before a teach­

er first puts a pencil in the child' s hand and shows him how to
form letters .
The moment a child begins to write his first school exer cises
in his notebook is not actually the first stage in the development
of writing. The origins of this process go far back into the pre­
history of the development of the higher forms of a child' s be­
havior ; we can even say that when a child enters school, he has
already acquired a wealth of skills and abilities that will enable
him to learn to write within a relatively short time.
If we just stop to think about the surprising rapidity with
which the child learns this extremely complex te chnique, which
has thousands of years of culture behind it, it will be evident
that this could come about only because during the first years
o f his development, before reaching s chool age, a child has al­
ready learned and assimilated a number of techniques leading
up to writing that have already prepared him and made it im­
measurably easier for him to grasp the concept and technique
of writing. Moreover, we may reasonably assume that � ven be-

From Voprosy marksistkoi pedagogikii [ Problems of Marx­

ist education ] . Mos cow: Academy of Communist Education,
1 92 9 . Vol . 1 , pp. 14 3 - 76 .

145
146 A. R. Luria

fore reaching school age, during thi s individual "prehistory, " as

it were, the child has already developed a number of primitive
techniques of his own that are similar to what we call writing
and perhaps even fulfill similar functions, but that are lost as
soon as the school provides the child with the culturally elabo­
rated, standard and economical system of signs, but that these
earlier techniques served as ne cessary stages along the way.
The psychologist is faced with the following important and intri­
guing problem: to delve deeply into this early period of child
development, to ferret out the pathways along which writing de­
veloped in its prehistory, to spell out the circumstances that
made writing possible for the child and the factors that provided
the motive forces of this development, and, finally, to des cribe
the stages through which the development of the child' s primitive
writing te chniques pass .
The developmental psychologist therefore concentrates his at­
tention on the pres chool period in the child ' s life . We begin
where we think we shall find the beginnings of writing, and leave
off where educational psychologists usually begin: the moment
when the child begins to learn to write .
If we are able to unearth this "prehistory" of writing, we shall
have acquired a valuable tool for teachers, namely, knowledge of
what the child was able to do before entering school, knowl edge
on which they can draw in teaching their pupils to write .

II

The best way to study this prehistory of writing and the vari­
ous tendencies and factors involved in it is to describe the stages
we observe as a child develops his ability to write and the factor s
that enable him to pass from one stage to another, higher stage .
In contrast to a number of other psychological functions, writ­
ing may be described as a culturally mediated function. The
first, most fundamental condition required for a child to be able
to "write down" some notion, concept, or phrase is that some
particular stimulus or cue, which in itself has nothing to do with
this idea, concept, or phrase, is employed as an auxiliary sign
The Development of Writing in the Child 147

whose perception causes the child to re call the idea, etc ., to

which it referred. Writing therefore presupposes the ability to
use some cue (e.g., a line, a spot, a point) as a functional auxil­
iary sign with no sense or meaning in itself but only as an aux­
iliary operation. For a child to be able to write or note some­
thing, two conditions must be fulfilled. First, the child' s rela­
tions with the things around him must be differentiated, so that
everything he encounters will fall into two main groups : either
things that represent some interest of the child' s, things he
would like to have, or with which he plays , or instrumental ob­
j ects , things that play only a utilitarian, or instrumental, role
and have sense only as aids for acquiring some object or achiev­
ing some goal and therefore have only functional significance
for him . Se cond, the child must be able to control his own be­
havior by means of these aids , in which case they already func­
tion as cues he himself invokes . Only when the child' s relation­
ships with the world around him have be come differentiated in
this way, when he has developed this functional relationship with
things , can we say that the complex intellectual forms of human
behavior have begun to develop.
The use of material tool s, the rudiments of this complex, me­
diated adaptation to the external world, is observable in apes .
In his classic experiments Kohler (!) demonstrated that under
certain conditions things may acquire a functional significance
for apes and begin to play an instrumental role . When an ape
takes a long sti ck to get at a banana, it is quite obvious that the
banana and the stick are psychologically of different orders for
the animal : whereas the banana is a goal , an obj ect toward which
the animal ' s behavior is directed, the stick has meaning only in
relation to the banana, i . e . , throughout the entire operation it
plays only a functional role. The animal begins to adapt to the
given situation not directly, but with the aid of certain tools. The
number of su ch instrumental obj ects is still few, and in the ape
their complexity is minimal ; but as behavior becomes more com­
plex, this instrumental inventory also becomes richer and more
complex, so that by the time we reach man, the number of such
obj ects playing an auxiliary functional role in the life of a human
 148 A. R. Luria

being, who is a cultural animal, is enormous.

At a certain stage in evolution, external acts , handling obj ects
of the external world, and internal acts as well , i. e . , the utiliza­
tion of psychological functions in the strict sense, begin to take
shape indire ctly. A number of techniques for organizing internal
psychological operations are developed to make their perfor­
mance more efficient and productive . The dire ct, natural use
of such te chniques is replaced by a cultural mode, which relie s
on certain instrumental, auxiliary devices. Instead of trying to
size up quantity visually, man learns to use an auxiliary system
of counting; and instead of me chanically committing things to,
and retaining them in, memory, he writes them down. In each
case these acts presuppose that some obj ect or device will be
' used as an aid in the se behavioral processes, that is, that this
obj ect or device will play a functional auxiliary role . Such an
auxiliary te chnique used for psychological purposes is writing,
which is the functional use of lines, dots, and other signs to re­
member and transmit ideas and concepts. Samples of florid,
embellished, pictographic writing show how varied the items en­
listed as aids to retaining and transmitting ideas , concepts, and
relations may be .
Experiments have shown that the development of su ch func­
tional devices serving psychological ends takes place mu ch later
than the acquisition and use of external tools to perform exter­
nal tasks . Kohler (2 ) attempted fo set up some special experi­
ments with apes to determine whether an ape could use certain
signs to express certain meanings, but was unable to find
any such rudiments of "re cord keeping" in apes . He gave
the animals paint, and they learned how to paint the walls , but
they never once tried to use the lines they drew as signs to ex­
press something. These lines were a game for the animal s ; as
objects they were ends, never means . Thus, devi ces of this sort
develop at a much later stage of evolution .
In what follows we shall des cribe our efforts to trace the de­
velopment of the first signs of the emergence of a functional re­
lation to lines and scribbles in the child and his first use of su ch
lines, et c., to. express meanings ; in doing so we shall hopefully
The Development of Writing in the Child 149

be able to shed some light on the prehistory of human writing.

III

The prehistory of writing can be studied in the child only ex­

perimentally, and to do this the skill must first be brought into
being. The subj ect must be a child who has not yet learned to
write; he must be put into a situation that will require him to
use certain external manual operations similar to writing to de­
pict or remember an obj ect . In su ch a situation we should be
able to determine whether he has acquired the ability to relate
to some device that has been given to him as a sign or whether
his relation to it still remains "absolute, 11 i . e . , unmediated, in
which case he will be unable to discover and use its functional,
auxiliary aspect .
In the ideal cas e the psychologist might hope t o force a child
to "invent" signs by placing him in some diffi cult situation. If
his efforts are more modest, he can give the child some task
that is easier for the child to cope with and watch the successive
s tages the child goes through in assimilating the technique of writing.
In our preliminary experiments we followed this se cond course.
Our method was actually very simple : we took a child who did
not know how to write and gave him the task of remembering a
certain number of sentences presented to him. Usually this num­
ber exceeded the child' s me chanical capacity to remember . Once
the child realized that he was unable to remember the number
of words given him in the task, we gave him a sheet of paper and
told him to j ot down or "write" the words we presented. Of
course, in most cases the child was bewildered by our sugges­
tion . He would tell us that he did not know how to write, that he
could not do it . We would point out to him that adults wrote
things down when they had to remember something and then, ex­
ploiting the child' s natural tendency toward purely external im­
itation, we suggested that he try to contrive something himself
and write down what we would tell him . Our experiment usually
began after this, and we would present the child with several
(four or five) series of six or eight sentences that were quite
150 A. R. Luria

simple, short, and unrelated to one another .

Thus, we ourselves gave the child a device whose intrinsi c
technique was unfamiliar to him and observed to what extent he
was able to handle it and to what extent the piece of paper, the
pencil , and the s cribbles the child made on the paper ceased be­
ing simple obj ects that appealed to him, playthings , as it were,
and became a tool , a means for achieving some end, which in
this case was remembering a number of ideas presented to him .
W e think our approach here was correct and productive . Draw­
ing on the child' s penchant for imitation, we gave him a de­
vice to use that was familiar to him in its outward aspe cts but
whose internal structure was unknown and strange . This allowed
us to observe , in its purest form, how a child adapts spontane­
ously to some device, how he learns how it works and to use it
to master a new goal .
We assumed that we would be able to observe all the stages
in a child' s relationship to this devi ce, which was still alien to
him, from the mechani cal, purely external, imitative copying of
an adult' s hand movements in writing to the intelligent mastery
of this te chnique.
By giving the child merely the external aspe cts of the te ch­
nique to work with, we were able to observe a whole series of
littl e inventions and dis coverie s he made , within the technique
itself, that enabled him gradually to learn to use this new cul­
tural tool .
It was our intention to provide a psychological analysis of the
development of writing from its origins and, within a short pe­
riod, to follow the child' s transition from the primitive, exter­
nal forms of behavior to complex, cultural forms. Let us now
examine our results . We shall try to des cribe how children of
different ages responded to this complex task and to trace the
stages of development of writing in the child from its beginnings .

IV

Not surprisingly, at the outset we encountered a problem that

could have presented a considerable obstacl e . It turned out that
T he Development of Writing in the Child 151

4 - 5 - year- olds were totally unable to understand our instructions .

On closer analysis, however, we found that this "negative" find­
ing actually refle cted a very essential and fundamental charac­
teristi c of this age group : 3 - , 4 - , and 5 - year- old children (it
was impossible to fix a definite dividing line : these age demar­
cations depend on a multitude of dynamic conditions having to do
with the child' s level of cultural development, his environment,
etc . ) were still unable to relate to writing as a tool, or means .
They grasped the outward form of writing and saw how adul ts
accomplished it; they were even able to imitate adults ; but they
themselves were completely unable to learn the spe cific psycho­
logical attribute s any act must have if it is to be used as a tool
in the service of some end.
If we asked such a child to note (or write) on paper the sen­
tences pr esented to him, in many instances the child would not
even refuse with any spe cial insistence, simply referring to his
inability to perform the task .
Little Vova N. (5 years old), for the first time in our labora­
tory, in response to the request to remember and write down the
sentence "Mi ce have long tails, " immediately took a pencil and
"wrote " a number of scrawls on the paper (Figure 1 ) . When the
experimenter asked him what
they were, he said, quite con­
fidently, "That' s how you write . "
The act of writing is, in this
case, only externally associated
with the task of noting a specific
word; it is purely imitative . The
child is interested only in "writ­
ing like grownups "; for him the
act of writing is not a means of
remembering, of representing
some meaning, but an act that is
suffi cient in its own right, an act
of play. But su ch an act is by no
means always seen as an aid to
helping the child later remember Figure 1
152 A. R. Luria

the senten ce . The connection between the child' s scrawls and

the idea it is meant to represent is purely external . This is es­
pecially evident in cases in which the "writing" is sharply and
noticeably divorced from the sentence to be written and begins
to play a completely independent and self- sufficient role .
We frequently observed one peculiar phenomenon in small
children: a child whom we had asked to write down the sentences
we gave him would not limit himself to ordinary "writing down, "
as in the case just des cribed; he would sometimes invert the
normal order of writing and begin to write without hearing out
what we had to say.
In these cas es the function of "writing" had become dissoci­
ated from the material to be written; understanding neither its
meaning nor its mechanism, the child used writing in a purely
external and imitative way, assimilating its outer form, but not
employing it in the right way. Here is a graphic example from
an experiment with Lena L . , 4 years old. Lena was given some
sentences and told to remember them, and to do this she had to
"write them down. " Lena listened to the first three sentences
and after each began to write down her s cribbles, which were
the same in each case, i . e . , they were indistinguishable from
one another . Before the fourth sentence I said to her : "Listen,
this time write . . . . " Lena, without waiting until I fini shed, began
to write . The same thing happened before the fifth sentence.
The results are the undifferentiated scrawls in Figure 2,
characteristic of this phase of development. There are two
points that stand out espe cially clearly here : "writing" is dis­
sociated from its immediate obje ctive, and lines are used in a
purely external way; the child is unaware of their functional sig­
nifi cance as auxiliary signs. That is why the act of writing can
be so completely dissociated from the dictated sentence ; not un­
ders tanding the principle underlying writing, the child takes its
external form and thinks he is quite able to write before he even
knows what he must write . But a second point is also clear from
this exampl e : the child' s s crawls bear no relationship to the
meaningful sentence dictated to him . We have deliberately pre­
sented an example with quite expli cit features that would be re-
The Development of Writing in the Child 153

fle eted in the mere outward form of writing if only the child un­
derstood the actual purpose and me chanism of writing things
down, and its necessary connection with the meaning of what is
to be written. Neither the number of items (five pencils, two

Figure 2 . 1 . There are five pencil s on the table . 2 . There are

two plate s . 3 . There are many trees in the forest. 4 . There
is a column in the yard. 5 . There is a large cupboard (writ­
ten prematurely) . 6 . The little doll (written prematurely) .
tablets), the size factor (large tabl e, small table), nor the shape
of the obj e ct itself had any influence on the j ottings ; in each cas e
there were the same zigzag lines . The "writing" had no conne c-
154 A. R. Luria

tion with the idea evoked by the sentence to be written; it was

not yet instrumental or functionally related to the content of what
was to be written . Actually, this was not writing at all, but sim­
ple scribbling.
This self- contained nature of the s crawls is evident in a num­
ber of cases : we observed s cribbling in children from 3 to 5
years old, and sometimes even as old as 6 (although in these
older children it was not as invariant, as we shall show further
on) . In most children in kindergartens, s cribbling on paper is
already an accustomed activity, although its functional, auxiliary
significance has not yet been learned . Hence, in most children
of this age, we observed a similar, undifferentiated s crawling,
which had no functional significance and surprisingly easily be-
. came simple s cribbling on paper merely for fun . We cannot re­
frain from the pleasure of relating a typical example of this total
dissociation between writing and its primary purpose and its
transformation into the mere fun of s cribbling on paper .

Experiment 9/Ill, series Ill, Yura, age 6 (middle kinder­

garten group) .
After Yura dis covered in the first series that he was
unable to remember by me chanical means all the sentences
dictated to him, we suggested he note them down on paper ;
and in the second series we obtained results like those
shown in Figure 2 . Despite the undifferentiated nature of
what he wrote down, Yura remembered more words in the
second series than in the first, and was given a pie ce of
candy as a reward. When we went on to the third series
and again asked him to write down each word, he agreed,
took the pencil , and began (without listening to the end of
one sentence) to s cribble. We did not stop him, and he con­
tinued to s cribble until he had covered the whole page with
scrawls that bore no relation to his initial purpose, which
was to remember the sentences . These s crawls are shown
in Figure 3 . Everything on the right side (A) was done be­
fore the sentences were presented ; not until later, after
we stopped him, did he begin to "write down" the sentences
The Development of Writing in the Child 155

shown on the left side (Nos . 1 - 7) .

I ,/
")� .
�vIA : IJ \ )'. .1-J
7. f/(
/A,
,

. / j,
JI.
,
I c
.
,·

� �·'.,�
'(__\�
\/1,., / \
I

Figure 3 . 1 . There are many stars in the sky. 2 . There

is one moon. 3 . I have thirty teeth. 4 . Two hands and
two legs. 5 . A large tree. 6 . The car runs.
1 56 A. R. Luria

Complete lack of comprehension of the me chanism of writing,

a purely external relation to it, and a rapid shift from "writing"
to self- contained fun bearing no functional relation to writing
are characteristic of the first stage in the prehistory of writing
in the child. We can call this phase the prewriting phase or,
more broadly, the pre-instrumental phas e .
One question remains that has a dire ct bearing on this first
phase in the development of writing and has to do with its for­
mal aspe cts : Why did most of the children we studied choose
to write zigzags in more or less straight lines ?
There is considerable literature on the first forms of graphic
activity in the child. The scrawling stage is explained in terms
of physiological factors , the development of coordination, etc.
Our approach to the phenomenon was more straightforward.
The drawings that intere sted us were the scribbles. Hence , the
most crucial factor here was unquestionably the one that brought
these scribbles most closely, albeit only outwardly, to adul t
writing, namely, the factor of outward imitation.
Although the child at this stage does not yet grasp the sens e
and function of writing, he does know that adults write ; and when
given the task of writing down a sentence, he tries to reproduce,
if only its outward form, adult writing, with which he is familiat .
This is why our samples actually look like writing, arranged in
lines, etc . , and why Vova immediately said, "This is how you write . "
We can persuade ourselves of the crucial role of pure , exter­
nal imitation in the development of this process by a very sim­
ple experiment : if we reproduce the experiment in the presence
of a child with another subj ect (a different one} who is asked to
write signs , not words , we shall see how this immediately alters
the way the child' s "writing" looks .

Lena, 4 years old, who gave us the typical s cribbles

(see Figure 2), in the break after the session noti ced that
her friend Lina, age 7, "wrote down" the dictated sentences
with a system of "marks " (one mark for each sentence).
This was enough to induce her , in the next session, after
the break, to produ ce s crawls that looked completely dif-
The Development of Writing in the Child 157

f erent . Adopting the manner of her friend, she stopped

writing lines of s cribbles and began to note each dictated
sentence with a circle.
( --""-.. . . . Monkeys have
� __

('-\
The result is shown in Figure 4 . "\..., )
__ long tails .
Despite its uniqueness of form, this .�.,,

specimen is not fundamentally dif- . . . The dark night.

ferent from those presented above .
It, too, is undifferentiated, random,
and purely externally associated with
;·
the task of writing; and it, too, is
0 . . . There is a tree
imitative . Just as in the previous
in the yard .
examples, the child was unable to
link the circles she drew with the
ideas conveyed in the sentence and 0-,>'· . . . Lyalya has
then to use this cir cle as a function­ two eye s .
al aid. This phase is the first phase
of direct acts, the phase of pre- in­
strumental, pre cultural, primitive,
(j . . A large apple .

imitative acts . Figure 4

Does "writing'' help a child, at this stage , to remember the

meaningful message of a dictated sentence ? We can answer
"no " in almost all cas es, and that is the characteristic feature
of this prewriting stage . The child' s writing does not yet serve
a mnemonic function, as will be come obvious if we examine the
"sentences" written by the child after di ctation. In most cases
the child remembered fewer sentences after "writing" them
down in this way than he did without writing; so writing did not
help, but actually hindered, memory. Indeed, the child made no
effort to remember at all ; for in relying on his "writing, " he was
quite convinced that it would do his remembering for him . �) . . .
Let us, however, take a case in whi ch the child remembered
several sentences even in a writing experiment . If we observe
how these s entences were recalled, we shall see clearly that
158 A. R. Luria

"writing" had nothing at all to do with this remembering, that it

took place independently of the child' s graphic efforts .
The first thing a psychologist studying memory notices i s that
a child mobilizes all the devices of direct me chanical memory,
none of which are found in reading. The child fixes and re call s;
he does not re cord and read: some of his jottings are quite be­
side the point, and without effect. In our experiments we fre­
quently observed that a child would repeat the sentence after
writing it down, to nail it down, as it were ; when we asked him
to re call what he had written, he did not "read" his jottings from
the beginning, but would go right to the last sentence s, to catch
them while they were fresh in his memory - a pro cedure very
typical of the phenomenon of making a mental note .
Finally, the most instructive observation was how a child
would behave in re calling. His behavior was that of someone
remembering, not of someone reading. Most of the children we
studied reprodu ced the sentences dictated to them (or rather,
some of them) without looking at what they had written, with
their gaze directed toward the ceiling questioningly; quite sim­
ply, the entire process of recall took place completely apart
from the scribbles, which the child did not use at all . We re­
corded some cas es of this sort on film; the child' s total disre­
gard of his writing and his purely dire ct form of remembering
are clearly evident from his facial expressions re corded on film.
Thus, the way children in our experiments recalled the di c­
tated sentences (if they did at all) clearly demonstrates that
their graphi c efforts at this stage of development are actually
not yet writing, or even a graphic aid, but merely drawings on
paper, quite independent of, and unrelated to, the task of remem­
bering. The child does not yet relate to writing as a tool of mem­
ory at this stage of development. This is why in our experiments
the children almost always cut a poor figure : of a total of six
to eight sentences, most of which they were able to remember
by me chanical means, they could remember only two or three
at most if asked to write them down, which indicates that if a
child has to rely on writing without the ability to use it, the effi­
ciency of memory is considerably reduced.
The Development of Writing in the Child 159

Nevertheless, our findings also include some cases that at

first glance are rather surprising in that they are completely
at variance with all we have just de scribed. A child would pro­
duce the same undifferentiated nonsense writing as we have de­
s cribed, the same meaningless scribbles and lines, yet he would
still be able to recall perfe ctly all the sentences he had written
down. Moreover, as we observed him, we had the impres sion
that he was actually making use of his writing. We che cked this
and indeed dis covered that these s cribblings actually were more
than just simple s crawls, that they were in some sens e real
writing. The child would read a sentence , pointing to quite spe­
cific s crawls, and was able to show without error and many
times in su ccession which scribble signified which of the di c­
tated sentences . Writing was still undifferentiated in its out­
ward appearance, but the child' s relation to it had completely
changed: from a self- contained motor activity, it had been
transformed into a memory- helping sign. The child had begun
to asso ciate the dictated sentence with his undifferentiated
scribble, which had begun to serve the auxiliary function of a
sign. How did this come about ?
In some sessions we noted that the children would arrange
their scribblings in some pattern other than straight lines . For
instance, they would put one s cribble in one corner of the paper
and another in another, and in so doing begin to associate the
dictated sentences with their notations ; this association was fur­
ther reinforced by the pattern in which the notations were ar­
ranged, and the children would declare quite emphatically that
the s cribble in one corner meant "cow, " or that another at the
top of the paper meant "chimney sweeps are black." Thu s, the se
children were in the process of creating a system of te chnical
memory aids , similar to the writing of primitive peoples . In
itself no s cribble meant anything; but its position, situation, and
relation to the other s cribbles, i.e., all these factors together,
imparted to it its function as a technical memory aid. Here is
an example :

Brina, age 5 (first time in our laboratory}, was asked

160 A. R. Luria

to write down a number of sentences di ctated to her . She

quickly learned how to proceed and after each word (or
sentence) had been di ctated, she would make her s cribble.
The results are shown in Figure 5. One might think that
our little subj e ct had made
these marks without any con­ (f)
nection with the task of re­
membering the dictated sen-
tences, just as most of the
children dis cussed above . (j..
But to our surprise, she not
only re called all the dictated
Figure 5 . 1 . Cow. 2 . A cow
sentences (true, there were
has legs and a tail . 3 . Ye s­
not many, only five ) but al so
terday evening it rained.
corre ctly located each sen­
4 . Chimney sweeps are black.
tence, pointing to a s cribble
5 . Give me three candles.
and saying: "This is a cow"
or "A cow has four legs and a tail , " or "It rained ye ster­
day evening, " etc. In other words, she recalled the dictated
sentences by "reading" them . It is clear that Brina under­
stood the task and employed a primitive form of writing,
writing by means of topographical markings . These mark­
ings were quite stable; when she was questioned directly,
she did not mix them up, but rigorously distinguished one
from the other, knowing exactly what each one meant.

This is the first form of "writing, " in the proper sense. The
actual ins criptions are still undifferentiated, but the functional
relation to writing is unmistakable . Be cause the writing is un­
differentiated, it is variabl e . After using it once , a child may
a few days later have forgotten it, and revert back to me chani­
cal scribbling unrelated to the task. But this is the first rudi­
ment of what is later to be come writing in the child; in it we see
for the first time the psychological elements from whi ch writ­
ing will take shape . The child now recalls the material by as­
sociating it with a spe cific mark rather than just mechanically,
and this mark will remind him of the parti cular sentence and
The Development of Writing in the Child 16 1

help him to re call it . All this and the presence of certain te ch­
niques of undifferentiated topographical writing in primitive peo­
ples spurred our interest in this undifferentiated te chnical aid
to memory, the precursor of real writing.
What role actually is played by the little mark the child makes
on a piece of paper ? We saw that it had two main features: it
organized the child' s behavior, but did not yet have a content of
its own; it indicated the presence of some meaning, but did not
yet tell us what this meaning was . We could say that this first
sign plays the role of an ostensive sign or, in other words, the
primary sign to "take note . " (!) The mark jotted down by the
child creates a certain set and serves as an additional cue that
some sentences have been dictated, but provides no hints as to
how to dis cover the content of those sentences .
An experiment demons trated that this interpretation of a pri­
mary sign was unquestionably the right one . We can des cribe a
number of cas es to prove this . A child at this stage of develop­
ment in his relationship to a sign tries to use the marks he has
made to guide him in recalling. Frequently, these "sentences"
have nothing in common with those dictated, but the child will
formally fulfill his as signment and for each cue find the "match­
ing word. "

Here i s an example of this relation of the child' s to a

primitive sign (we omit the actual drawing as it is very
.s imilar in structure to the preceding illustrations) . We
gave a child 4 years, 8 months old a series of words :
"pi cture - book - girl - locomotive . "
The child noted each of these words with a mark. When
she had finished her writing, we asked her to read it .
Pointing to each mark in succession, the girl "read":
"girl - doll - bed - trunk . ' '
W e s e e that the words re called by the child have nothing
in common with the words given; only the number of words
re called was correct ; their content was determined com­
pletely by the emotional sets and interests of the child
(R. E. Levin' s experiment).
162 A. R. Luria

This illustration enables us to get to the psychological struc­

ture of such a primary graphic sign. It is clear that a primary,
undifferentiated, graphic sign is not a symbolic sign, which dis­
closes the meaning of what has been written down; nor can it yet
be called an instrumental sign in the full sense of the word, as
it does not lead the child back to the content of what was written
down. We should rather say that it is only a simple cue (although
one artificially created by the child) that conditionally evokes
certain speech impulses . These impul ses, however, do not nec­
e ssarily direct the child back to the situation he has "re corded";
they can only trigger certain processes of association whose
content, as we have seen, may be determined by completely dif­
ferent conditions having nothing at all to do with the given cue.

We might best des cribe the functional role of such a cue

as follows :
Let us imagine the process of writing (alphabetic, picto­
graphic, or conventionally agreed on) in an adult. A certain
content A is written with the symbol X. When a reader
looks at this symbol, he immediately thinks of the content
A. The symbol X is an instrumental device to dire ct the
reader ' s attention to the initial written content . The formula:

� /(
A A
(Given content Recalled content}
x
(Auxiliary sign}
is the best expres sion of the structure of such a process .
The situation with respect to a primitive mark su ch as
we have just been discussing is completely different . It
only signals that some content written down by means of
it exists, but does not lead us to it; it is only a cue evok­
ing some (as sociative) reaction in the subj ect. We actu­
ally do not have in it the complex instrumental structure
of an act, and it may be des cribed by the following formula:
(Given content) A-X
X-N (Recalled association}
(Primitive mark)
The Development of Writing in the Child 163

where N may not have any relation to the given content A,

or , of course, to the mark X.
Instead of an instrumental act, whi ch uses X to revert
attention back to A, we have here two dire ct acts : (1) the
mark on the paper, and (2 ) the response to the mark as a
cue . Of course, in psychological terms this is not yet
writing, but only the forerunner of it , in which the most
rudimentary and neces sary conditions for its development
are for ged. @)

VI

We have already discussed the insuffi cient stability of this

phase of undifferentiated, memory- helping writing. Having taken
the fir st step along the path of culture with it, and having linked,
for the first time, the re called obj ect with some sign, the child
must now go on to the second step: he must differentiate this
sign and make it really express a spe cific content; he must cre­
ate the rudiments of literacy, in the truest sens e of the word.
Only then will the child' s writing be come stable and independent
of the number of elements written down; and memory will have
gained a powerful tool , capable of broadening its s cope enor­
mously. Finally, only under the se conditions will any steps for­
ward be taken along the way toward obje ctivization of writing,
i.e . , toward transforming it from subje ctively coordinated mark­
ings into signs having an obje ctive significance that is the same
for everyone .
Our experiments warrant the assertion that the development
of writing in the child proceeds along a path we can des cribe as
the transformation of an undifferentiated s crawl into a differen­
tiated sign. Lines and s cribbles are replaced by figures and
pictures, and these give way to signs . In this sequence of events
lies the entire path of development of writing in both the history
of nations and the development of the child .
We are psychologists, however, and our task is not confined
to simple observation and confirmation of the sequence of indi­
vidual phases : we should like also to describe the conditions
164 A. R. Luria

that produ ce this sequence of events and to determine empiri­

cally the factor s that facilitate for the child the transition from
a stage of undifferentiated writing to the level of meaningful
signs expres sing a content .
Actually, one can say there are two pathways by whi ch differ­
entiation of the primary sign may take place in a child. On the
one hand, the child may try to depict the content given him with­
out going beyond the limits of arbitrary, imitative scrawling; on
the other hand, he may make the transition to a form of writing
that depicts content, to the re cording of an idea, i . e . , to pi cto­
grams . Both paths presuppose some jump that mu st be made
by the child as he replaces the primary, undifferentiated sign
with another, differentiated one . This jump presupposes a little
invention, whose psychological significance is interesting in that
it alters the very psychological function of the sign by transform­
ing the primary sign, which merely es tablishes os tensively the
existence of a thing, into another kind of a sign that reveals a
particular content . If this differentiation is ac complished suc­
cessfully, it transforms a sign- stimulus into a sign- symbol ,
and a qualitative leap is thereby effected in the development of
complex forms of cultural behavior .
We were abl e to follow the elementary inventions of a child
along both these paths . Let us examine each of them separately.
The first signs of differentiation we were able to observe in
the small child occurred after several repetitions of our experi­
ment. By the third or fourth ses sion, a child of 4 or 5 years
would begin to link the word (or phrase) given him and the na­
ture of . the mark with which he distinguished the word . This
meant that he did not mark all the words in the same way: the
first differentiation, as far as we could judge, involved reflec­
tion of the rhythm of the phrase uttered in the rhythm of the
graphic sign.
The child quite early begins to show a tendency to write down
short words or phras es with short lines and long words or
phrases with a large number of scribbles. It is difficult to say
whether this is a cons cious act, the child' s own invention, as it
were . We are inclined to see other, more primitive mechanisms
The Development of Writing in the Child 165

at work in this. Indeed, this rhythmic differentiation is by no

means always stable. A child who has written a series of sen­
tences given him in a "differentiated" manner in the next ses­
sion (or for that matter even in the same session) will revert
to primitive, undifferentiated writing. This suggests that in this
rhythmically reproductive writing some more primitive me ch­
anisms, not an organized and cons cious device , are at work.
But what are these me chanisms ? Are we not dealing here
with simple coincidence, which leads us to see a pattern where
there is only the play of chance ?
An example drawn from one of our experiments may serve
as material for a concrete analysis of this problem.

Lyuse N., age 4 years, 8 months . We gave her a num­

ber of words : mama, cat, dog, doll . She wrote them all
down with the same s crawl s, which in no way differed from
one another . The situation changed considerably, however,
when we al so gave her long sentences along with individual
words : (1) girl ; (2 ) cat; (3 ) Zhorzhik is skating; (4 ) Two
dogs are chasing the cat; (5 ) There are many books in the
room, and the lamp is burning; (6 ) bottle ; (7) ball ; (8) The
cat is sleeping; (9) We play all day, then we eat dinner,
and then we go out to play again.
In the writing the child now produ ced, the individual
words were repres ented by little lines, but the long sen­
tences were written as complicated squiggles ; and the
longer the sentence , the longer was the squiggl e written
to express it .

Thus, the proces s of writing, which began with an undifferen­

tiated, purely imitative, graphi c accompaniment to the presented
words, after a period of time was trans formed into a process
that on the surface indicated that a connection had been made be­
tween the graphic production and the cue presented . The child' s
graphic production ceased being a simple accompaniment to a
cue and became its refle ction - albeit in very primitive form.
It began to reflect merely the rhythm of the presented phrase :
166 A. R. Luria

single words began to be written as single lines, and sentences

as long, complicated s cribbles, sometimes refle cting the rhythm
of the presented sentence.
The variable nature of this writing suggests, however, that
perhaps this is no more than a simple rhythmic refle ction of the
cue presented to the subj ect. Psychologically, it is quite com­
prehensible that every stimulus perceived by a subject has its
own rhythm and through it exerts a certain effect on the activity
of the subject, espe cially if the aim of that activity is linked to
the presented stimulus and must reflect and record it. The pri­
mary effe ct of this rhythm also produ ces that first rhythmic dif­
ferentiation in the child' s writing that we were able to note in
our experiments .
Below we shall dis cuss the very intimate relationship that we
believe exists between graphic production and mimicry. Func­
tionally, graphi c activity is a rather complex system of cultural
behavior, and in terms of its gene sis may be regarded as ex­
pres siveness materialized in fixed form. It is just this sort of
refle ction of mimicry we see in the example given above . The
rhythm of a sentence is reflected in the child's graphic activity,
and we quite frequently encounter further rudiments of su ch
rhythmically depictive writing of complex speech clusters . It
was not invention, but the primary effect of the rhythm of the
cue or stimulus that was at the source of the first meaningful
use of a graphic sign.

VII

This first step along the way of differentiation of primitive,

imitative, graphic activity is still very weak and impoverished,
however . Although a child may be able to reflect the rhythm of
a sentence, he is still unable to mark the content of a term pre­
sented to him graphically . We must await the next step, when
his graphic activity begins to reflect not only the external rhythm
of the words presented to him but also their content ; we await
the moment when a sign acquires meaning. It is then that we
shall doubtless be dealing with inventiveness .
The Development of Writing in the Child 167

Actually, when undifferentiated, imitative, graphic activity

first acquires expressive content, is this not a tremendous step
forward in the child's cultural behavior ? But even here, again,
it is not enough merely to show invention. Our task must be to
as certain what factors are responsible for the shift to a mean­
ingful, depi ctive sign; and to show what they are means to dis­
cover the internal factors determining the process of invention
of expressive signs in the child.
The task of the experimenter in thi s case is consequently to
test certain inputs into an experiment and determine which of
them produ ces the primary transition from the diffuse phase to
the meaningful use of signs .
In our experiments there was one serious factor that could in­
fluence the development of writing in the child : this was the con­
tent of what was presented to him ; and in varying this, we might
ask, What changes in the content we presented were conditions for
indu cing a primary transition to differentiated, depictive writing ?
Two primary factors can take the child from an undifferenti­
ated phas e of graphic activity to a stage of differentiated graphic
activity. These factors are number and form.
We observed that number, or quantity, was perhaps the first
factor to break up that purely imitative, unexpres sive character
of graphic activity in which different ideas and notions were ex­
pressed by exactly the same sort of lines and s cribbles . By in­
trodu cing the factor of number into the material, we could readi­
ly produ ce differentiated graphic activity in 4 - 5 - year-old chil­
dren by causing them to use signs to reflect this number. It is
possible that the actual origins of writing are to be found in the
need to re cord number, or quantity.
Perhaps the best thing to do is to reprodu ce a protocol show­
ing the process of differentiation of writing as it took place un­
der the influence of the factor of quantity.

Lena L., 4 years old, in her first attempt to write sen­

tences produced an undifferentiated s crawl for each sen­
tence, with completely identical s cribbles (see Figure 2 ) .
Of cour se, since these s cribbles were totally unrelated to
168 A. R. Luria

the ideas, they did not even give the effe ct of writing, and
we concluded that this kind of mechanical graphic produ c­
tion hindered rather than helped memory.
We then introdu ced the factor of quantity into a number
of experiments to determine how the altered conditions
would affect the development of graphic activity. We were
immediately able to note the beginnings of differentiation.

• {..IA;... 21-i<> f"- ) - - - .....

- .�
Y oMCfr�. I
.
. MNs� - - ·�r-

y ..A Jl -4 w -- - - - _f � 'l/lt
2. H.-0�
2. P'1 """ "'
l \
'J ..IL4 """ 2 � � l/\/VytM
Y ...l 4 -U.\ I �c . - - - - - -
�
Indeed, graphic production changed sharply under the
influence of this factor (especially if one compares it with
the sample in Figure 2 ) . We now see a clear differentia­
tion, linked to the particular task. For the first time each
s crawl refle cts a particular content . Of course, the dif­
ferentiation is still primitive : what differentiates "one
nose" from "two eyes" is that the scribble s representing
the former are much smaller . Quantity is still not clear­
ly expressed, but relations are . The sentence "Lilya has
two hands and two legs " was perceived and re corded in a
differentiated fashion : "two hands " and "two legs " each
had their own s cribble . But most important, this differen­
tiation appeared in a child who had just produ ced some to­
tally undifferentiated s cribblings, not betraying even the
The Development of Writing in the Child 169

least indication that they might have anything at all to do

with the sentences dictated.

This example brings us to the following observation: quantity

was the factor that broke up the elementary, me chanical, undif­
ferentiated, graphic production and for the first time opened the
way toward its use as an auxiliary device, hen ce raising it from
the level of merely me chanical imitation to the status of a func­
tionally employed tool .
Of course, the graphi c production itself is still muddled; and
the te chnique has not yet assumed precise, constant contour s :
if w e again dictated material having n o reference to quantity, we
would again obtain an undifferentiated s cribbling by the same
child, with no attempt on her part to represent a particular con­
tent with a particular mark . But now that the first step had been
taken, the child was, for the first time, able really to "write"
and, what is most important, to "read" what she had written.
With the transition to this primitive but differentiated graphic
activity, her entire behavior changed : the same child who had
been unable to recall two or three sentences was now able to re­
call all of them confidently and, what is more, for the first time
was able to read her own writing.
Thanks to the quantity factor , this differentiation was achieved
in children 4 - 5 years old . The influence of the factor of quantity
was espe cially strong in cas es in which the factor of contrast
was added - when, for example, the sentence "There are two
trees in the yard" was followed by the sentence "There are many
trees in the forest, " the child tried to reprodu ce the same con­
trast, and hen ce could not write both sentences with the same
markings and instead was for ced to produ ce differentiated writing.
Having noted this, let u s go on immediately to the second fac­
tor defining and accelerating the transition from undifferentiated
play writing to real, differentiated, expressive, graphic activity.
In our experiments we observed that differentiation of writing
could be considerably ac celerated if one of the sentences dictated
concerned an object that was quite conspicuous be cause of its
color, clear- cut shape, or siz e . We combined these three fac-
170 A. R. Luria

tors into a se cond group of conditions that would promote the

child' s learning to put a spe cifi c content into his writing and
make it expressive and differentiated . In such cases we saw
how graphic production suddenly began to acquire definite con­
tours as the child attempted to express color, shape, and size;
indeed, it began to have a rough resemblance to primitive pic­
tography. Quantity and conspicuous shape lead the child to pi c­
tography. Through these factor s the child initially gets the idea
of using drawing (which he is already quite good at in play) as
a means of remembering, and for the fir st time drawing begins
to converge with a complex intellectual activity. Drawing changes
from simple representation to a means , and the intelle ct ac­
quires a new and powerful tool in the form of the first differen­
tiated writing.
Here is a protocol illustrating the guiding role played by the
factor of form in the child' s di scovery of the me chanism of writ­
ing; this protocol al so shows clearly the process of diff erentia­
tion as it progresse s .

Vova N. , 5 years old, first time i n our laboratory. The

subje ct was asked to write sentences di ctated to him in
order to remember them . He began immediately to pro­
duce s cribbles, saying, "This is how you write" (see Fig­
ure 1 ) . Obviously, for him the act of writing was purely
an external imitation of the writing of an adult without any
connection with the content of the particular idea, since
the scribbles differect from one another in no essential
way. Here is the record :
1 . The mouse with a long Subje ct (writes : ) This is how
tail . you write .
2 . There is a high column . Subje ct (write s : ) Column . . ..
This is how you write .
3 . There are chimneys on Subj ect (writes : ) Chimneys
the roof. on the roof . . . This is how
you write . . . .
Now we give the subje ct a picture in bright color s, and
the reaction immediately changes .
The Development of Writing in the Child 171

4 . Very black smoke i s Subj e ct : Black. Like this�

coming out of the chim- (Points to the pencil and then
ney . begins to draw very black
s cribbles, pres sing hard.)
5. In the winter there is Subj ect: (Makes his usual
white snow . scribbles, but separates them
into two parts, apparently un­
related to the idea of "white
snow . ")
6 . Very black coal - Subje ct : (Again draws heavy
lines . )

�W0'v .. . . . u� � g11w<-."'"
Joo�...

Figure 6
172 A. R. Luria

Both the protocol and the writing itself in Figure 6 show that the
generally undifferentiated writing acquires an expressive charac­
ter in only two cases (4 and 6 ), in which "black smoke 1 1 and ''black
coal " are depicted with heavy black line s . For the first time the
s crawls on paper assume some of the features of true writing.
The effect be comes clear when we see how the subj ect re calls
what he has written. When asked to recall what he has written, he
refuses to re call anything at all . It seems that he has forgotten
everything, and hi s scribblings tell him nothing. But after exam­
ining the scrawls, he suddenly stops at one of them and says, spon­
taneou sly: "This is coal . " This is the first time such spontaneou s
reading occurs in this child, and the fact that he had not only pro­
duced something differentiated in his graphic activity but al so was
able to recall what it repre sented fully confirms that he had taken
the first step toward using writing as a means of remembering.
This sort of differentiation was achieved in 4 - and 5- year olds ,
and i t is quite pos sible that i n some cas es i t can occur even
much earlier . The most important thing about all this is that
the emergence of the conditions ne cessary for writing, the dis­
covery of pi ctographic writing, the first use of writing as a
means of expres sion, occurred before our eyes . We can say
with assurance that after observing with our own eyes, in our
laboratory, how a child gropingly repeated the first primitive
steps of culture, many elements and factors in the emergence
of writing be came incomparably clearer for us. Sometimes, in
the same experiment , we were able to observe the sequence of
a whole series of inventions carrying the child forward to one
new stage after another in the cultural use of signs .
The best thing to do, perhaps, is to pre sent a protocol from
one of our experiments in its entirety. We have therefore sele c­
ted a record for a 5 - year-old girl in which we may follow step
by step her dis covery of cultural signs . We have purposely
chosen a subject whose undifferentiated, mnemotechnical writ­
ing we have presented earlier (Figure 5 ) .

Brina Z . , age 5 . The experiment was done in a number

of consecutive sessions in each of which five or six sen-
The Development of Writing in the Child 173

tences were dictated with the instruction to write them

down in order to remember them.
1 st session. The experimenter dictated five sentences :
( 1 ) The bird i s flying. (2 ) The elephant has a long trunk.
(3 ) An automobile goes fast. (4 ) There are high wave s on
the sea. (5) The dog barks.
The subject made a line for each sentence and arranged
the lines in columns (see Figure 7 A, I). The lines were
identi cal . In the recall te st, she remembered only three
sentences , i . e . , the same number she remembered without
writing anything down. She recalled spontaneously, i.e.,
without looking at her scribblings.
2 nd se s sion. The experimenter dictated five sentences,
which included quantitative elements : (1) A man has two arms
and two legs . (2 ) There are many star s in the sky. (3 ) Nose .
(4 ) Brina has 2 0 teeth. (5) The big dog has four little pups .
The subje ct drew lines arranged in a column. Two hands
and two legs were represented by two dis crete lines ; the
other sentences were represented by one line each (Fig­
ure 7A, II) . In the re call test the subj ect de clared that she
had forgotten everything and refused to try to remember .
3 rd session . The experimenter repeated the se cond se­
ries "to help her write down and remember what was dic­
tated a little better . " He then dictated the second series
again with a few changes : (the subj ect's s cribblings are
given in Figure 7A, III) :
1 . Here is a man, and he Subje ct : Then I'll draw two
has two legs . lines.
2 . In the sky there are Subject: Then I'll draw many
many stars . line s .
3 . The crane has one leg. (Makes a mark) . . . The crane is
on one leg . . . There you are . . .
( Points) The crane is on one leg.
4. Brina has 20 teeth. (Draws several lines . )
5 . The big hen and four (Makes one big line and two
little chi cks . small ones; thinks a little, and
adds another two . )
174 A. R. Luria

In the re call test, she remembered everything corre ctly

except for sentence No . 2 . When the experimenter di ctated
this sentence to her and asked, "How can you write this so
as to remember it ? " she answered, "Best with cir cle s . "
4 th session. The experimenter again di ctates sentences
and the subje ct writes them down .
1 . The monkey has a long Subj e ct: The monkey (draws a
tail . line) has a long (draws another
line) tail (yet another line ).
2. The column is high. Okay, so I'll draw a line . The
column came broken .
3 . The bottle is on the Now I can draw the table and
table. then the bottle. But I can't do
it right .
4 . There are two trees. (Draws two line s . ) Now I'll
draw the branches .
5. It's cold in winter . Okay. In the winter (draws
line) it' s cold (draws line).
6 . The little girl wants to (Draws a mark . ) [ Experiment­
eat. er: ] Why did you draw it like
that ? [ Subj e ct : ] Be cause I
wanted to.
In the re call test she remembered corre ctly Nos . 2, 3 ,
5 , and 6 . (see Figure 7B). About No. 4 she said: "This is
the monkey with the long tail ." When the experimenter
pointed out that this sentence was No . 1 , she obje cted :
"No, these two long lines are the monkey with the long tail .
If I hadn' t drawn the long lines, I wouldn't have known. "

This experiment began with completely undifferentiated writ­

ing. The subj ect would jot down lines without relating to them
in any way as differentiated signs ref erring to something. In
the re call test she did not use these lines and re called dire ctly,
as it were . It is under standable that the failure in the first two
experiments depres sed her somewhat, and she tried to refuse
to go on, de claring that she couldn't remember anything and that
she "didn't want to play anymore." At this point, however, a
The Development of Writing in the Child 175

sudden change occurred, and she began to behave completely

differently. She had dis covered the ins trumental use of writing;
she had invented the sign . The lines she had drawn mechanical­
ly be came a differentiated, expressive tool , and the entire pro­
cess of re call for the first time began to be mediated. This in­
vention was the re-
sul t of a confluence of I
two factors : the in­
terje ction of the fa c­ --- f7r • 1 • .Llf°'«<
tor of quantity into the
task, and the experi­ � � ldO •A. ft'"'- ,,,.:., --- M ><• i. J kJ : ,
.... ..__ � , . ,.,.. � -- �""
menter ' s insistent - ., .,,. f.o �>(
requirement that she - p.,. ""'-¥' �.J. ...sl ,....--- 'J �""- ·�···
"write so that it could
be under stood . " Per-
haps even without this
last condition the sub-
j e ct would have dis-
covered the sign, may­
be a little later; but we
wanted to accelerate
the pro cess and re-
store her interest .
This we were able to
do; and the subject,
after switching to a
new te chnique and
finding it su cces sful ,
continued to cooper­
ate for another hour
and a half.
In the third se ssion,
whi ch we shall now
dis cuss, she dis cov­
ered for the first \\ \ \)
time that a sign, by
Figure 7A
means of numerical
176 A. R. Luria

differentiation, had an expressive function: when asked to write

"The man has two legs " Brina immediately de clared, "Then I'll
draw two line s "; and once having discovered this technique, she
continued to use it. She then combined this devi ce with a rough
schematic representation of the object: the crane with one leg
she depicted with a line with another meeting it at right angles;

..-­

,,,..-

---

Figure 7B
The Development of Writing in the Child 177

the large dog with four pups became a large line with four
smaller ones. Thus, in the recall test she no longer proceeded
completely from memory, but read what she had written, each
time pointing to her drawing. The only case of failure was
"There are many stars in the sky. " In the te st session this was
replaced with a new drawing in which the stars were represented
by circle s, not line s.
Differentiation continued in the fourth ses sion, in which the
length of the column was represented by a long line and the tree
and bottle were drawn directly. Of particular interest is her at­
tempt to differentiate her writing in another direction, mentioned
above: when Brina had difficulty expressing a complex formula­
tion, she wrote down the dictated sentence semimechanically,
rhythmically breaking it down into words, each of which was rep­
resented by a line (monkey - long - tail, winter - cold) . She
continued to use this technique for some time; we have observed
the same technique in 7- 8-year- old children. This technique was
le ss successful than the technique of real , differentiated writing,
however, and hence is a special case . After writing "It is .cold
in winter" with two long lines, the subject began to recall them
as the nmonkey with the long tail, " declaring that she had pur­
posely drawn the long line and that without it she would have
been unable to remember the monkey' s long tail . We see here
how a technique that has been used ineffectively is reworked and
acquires an attribute corresponding to one of the ideas ; the line
is then interpreted differently and is transformed into a sign.
After having started with undifferentiated play writing, before
our very eyes the subject discovered the instrumental nature of such
writing and worked out her own system of expressive marks, by
means of which she was able to transform the entire remembering
process . Play was transformed into elementary writing, and
writing was now able to assimilate the child' s repre sentational
experience . We have reached the thre shold of pictographic writing.

VITI

The period of picture writing is fully developed by the time a

178 A. R. Luria

child reaches the age of 5 or 6 years; if it is not fully and clear­

ly developed by that time, it is only because it already begins to
give way to symbolic alphabetic writing, which the child learns
in school - and sometimes long before .
If it were not for this factor, we should have every reason to
.expect that pictography would achieve a flourishing development;
and this is what we actually see everywhere that symbolic writ­
ing is not developed or does not exist; pictography flourishe s
among primitive peoples (there have been many interesting stud­
ies of pictography) . The richest development of pictography is
found in retarded children, who are still preliterate ; and we
should, without reserve, recognize that their fine and colorful

/;
--·

J'

Figure 8
The Development of Writing in the Child 179

pictographic writing is one of the positive accomplishments of re­

tarded children. (In Figure 8 we show some drawings by a retard­
ed child that are quite impres sive in their vividness and grace .)
The pictographic phase in the development of writing is based
on the rich experience of the child' s drawings , which need not in
them selve s serve the function of mediating signs, in any intellec­
tual process . Initially drawing is play, a self-contained process
of representation; then the perfected act can be used as a device,
a means, for recording. But because the direct experience of
drawing is so rich, we often do not obtain the pictographic phase
of writing in its pure form in the child. Drawing as a means is
very frequently blended with drawing as a self-contained, unme­
diated process. Nowhere in such material can one discern any
sign of the difficulties the child experiences in going through the
differentiation of all these processes into means and ends , ob­
j ects and functionally related techniques, which, as we saw above ,
are the necessary condition for the emergence of writing.
We shall not dwell in detail on all the characteristic features
of thi s pictographic phase in the development of writing in the
child, since this phase has been studied much more than all the
others. We shall merely underscore the distinction between pic­
tographic writing and drawing, and once again draw on an actual
experimental record to illustrate our point.

Marusya G. , 8 years old, is a mentally retarded child.

She cannot write, and has poor command of speech. Her
Binet- Bert IQ is 60. Despite this handicap, however, she
has remarkable representational gifts. Her drawings are
an excellent example of how drawing may not be an indica­
tor of intellectual aptitude , but may in compensation devel­
op in people whose intellectual (especially verbal) aptitudes
are impaired.
We performed our usual experiment with Marusya. In
the first natural series, she remembered only one of the
six words. After noting this , we went directly on to the
writing experiment . Here is the record:
Experimenter: Now I shall tell you a number of things,
180 A. R. Luria

and you should write them down on the paper so you can
remember them better . Here is a pencil .
Subje ct : How should I write it ? House and girl, right ?
(Begins to write "girl "; see Figure 8 , 1 . )
Experimenter : ( 1 ) Listen . Subject: A little cow, a
Write that a cow has four real little cow. I think I'd
legs and a tail . better draw the girl instead .
(Experimenter repeats I don't know how (draws
the instructions .) the girl ) .
(2 ) Chimney sweeps are Black . A little box . I
black. don't know how to draw a
chimney (draws a box, then
begins to draw a flower).
(Figure 8, 2 and 3a ["This
is a flower."] )
(3 ) Yesterday evening it It was wet. I put on my
rained. galoshes . There was a lit­
tle drizzle . Here it is
(makes a few light lines on
the paper [ Figure 8, 3 ] ) .
I can draw snow, too. Here
it is (draws a star, Figure
8, 3 a).
(4 ) We had a tasty soup Soup , tasty ( Figure 8 , 4 ) ;
for lunch. they go together .
(5 ) The dog is running Dog, little (draws a dog).
about the yard.
(6 ) The boat is sailing Here's the boat (draws ) .
the sea .

A t this point a bright light was turned on s o that w e could film

the process , and the experimenter called the subje ct's attention
to it : "L ook at our little sun." The subj ect then pro ceeded to
draw a circle and declared : "Here is the sun" (Figure 8, 2a) .
In the re call test, the subject named all the figures she had
drawn, regardless of whether they depicted what had been dic­
tated or were spontaneous drawings : (1) Girl , (2) Soup, (3 ) The
T he Development of Writing in the Child 18 1

boat is sailing, (4 ) The black box, (5 ) Here is a flower, (6 ) The

dog . . . . She then took the pen cil and drew a road and said,
"Here is a road" (Figure 8, 7 ) .
Our record gives a good, detailed des cription of the develop­
ment of pi ctographi c writing in the child. What is espe cially
noteworthy is the extraordinary ease with whi ch the child took
up this kind of writing yet dissociated the depicted figures from
the writing task and turned it into spontaneous, self- contained
drawing. It was with this tendency to draw pi ctures, not to write
with the aid of pi ctures , that our experiment began, when Marus­
ya at our request to pay attention to everything said to her im­
mediately answered: "How should I write ? A house, a little
girl , right ?11 The process of the functional use of writing was
incomprehensible to her; and if she learned it later , it would re­
main a shaky acquisition . Several times during the course of
the experiment, Maru sya reverted to spontaneou s drawing, with
no function related to remembering the dictated material .
This dual relationship to drawing remained with our subject
throughout all the following experiments, and the agility with
which she would switch from pi ctographi c writing back to spon­
taneous drawing was something observed in many pres choolers
and, espe cially, in older retarded children . The more outstand­
ing the pictography, the easier it was for these two principle s
of pi cture writing to be mixed.
A child may draw well but not relate to his drawing as an aux­
iliary device. This distinguishes writing from drawing and sets
a limit to the full development of pictographi c literacy in the
narrow meaning of the term . The more retarded the child, the
more marked is his inability to relate to drawing other than as
a kind of play and to develop and understand the instrumental
u se of a pi cture as a devi ce or symbol, though his drawing skills
m ay be well developed.
But now we have come to the problem of the development of
the symbolic phase of writing; and in order not to lose the con­
ne ction with what has been said, we should pause for a moment
on a very important factor at the borderline between pictography
and symboli c writing in the child.
182 A. R. Luria

IX

Let us imagine a case in whi ch a child who can write pi cto­

graphically must put down something that is difficult (or even
impossible) to expre ss in a pi cture . What does the child then do ?
This situation, of course, for ces the child to find ways around
the problem, if he does not simply refuse to perform the task.
Two such detours, very similar to each other, are pos sible. On
the one hand, the child instru cted to re cord something difficult
to depi ct may instead of obj ect A put down obj ect B, which is re­
lated in some way to A. Or, he may simply put down some ar­
bitrary mark instead of the obj ect he finds difficult to depi ct .
Either way leads from pi ctographic writing to symbolic.writ­
ing, except that the first still operates with the same means of
pi ctographic repres entation whereas the second makes use of
other qualitatively new device s .
In experiments with mentally retarded children we often observe
the development of indirect means of the first type; school and
school instruction provide ample opportunities for the second type .
Let us imagine that a small child or a retarded child is able to
draw well, and we suggest to him some picture that, for some rea­
son, he finds difficult to draw. How doe s he proceed in this ca se ?
We can analyze the indire ct means a child devises in such a
case in their purest form on the basis of one of our experiments .
Let us first take a subject whom we have already dis cussed ear­
lier - Marusya G.
In a fourth session we again gave her a series of senten ces
that were not all equally easy to write down . Here is an extra ct
from the re cord (see Figure 9 ) .
1 . Two dogs on the Subj ect: Two dogs (draws)
street. . . . and a cat (draws a cat) .
Two big dogs .
2. There are many What stars . . . here is the
stars in the sky. sky (draws a line). Here is
some grass below (draws) . . .
I see them from the window
(draws a window) .
The Development of Writing in the Child 183

What does this extract tell us ? The subj ect has difficulty in
representing pi ctographically the sentence "There are many
stars in the sky," and she creates her own unique way to get
around the problem : she does not draw the image given her, but
instead portrays an entire situation in which she saw stars. She
depi cts the sky, the window through which she saw the stars,
etc. Instead of the part, she reprodu ces the entire situation,
and in this way solves the problem .

�·.'� :l

f2E
I J
l

I I

Figure 9
A similar situation was en countered with another subject,
Petya U., 6� years old. Here is an extract from the record.

Session III, (2 ) There Subj ect : I can't draw 1 , 000

are 1 , 000 stars in the sky. stars . If you want, I'll draw
an airplane . This is the sky
(draws a horizontal line) .. .
Oh, I can't. . . .
184 A. R. Luria

We see here the diffi culty of an image that does not lend it­
self well to graphi c representation, so that the subj ect tries to
get around the problem by depicting other, related obj ects .
These children had insufficient ability to use drawing as a
sign or a means , and this was complicated by their attitude to­
ward drawing as a self-contained game . Hence, the representa­
tion is extended from a single image to a whole situation in which
this image was perceived; it is given new roots. In this situa­
tion, however, the indirect path is purely of the most primitive
sort. The whole instead of the part is the first indirect devi ce
used in early childhood; we shall be able to understand it if we
take into ac count the diffuse, holistic, poorly differentiated na­
ture of a child' s perceptions . �) At the very last stages, these
in.direct means acquire another, more differentiated and more
highly developed nature .
It is hardly ne cessary to present all the instances in whi ch a
child chooses an indirect means and, instead of a whole that he
finds difficult to depict, draws some part of it, whi ch is easier .
These features of all infantile drawing that is already at a more
differentiated stage have been des cribed many times, and are
well known to all . Two tendencie s are characteristic of the pic­
tographic writing of a child at a relatively advanced stage : the
object to be depicted may be replaced either by some part of it
or by its general contours or outline . In either case the child
has already gone beyond the aforementioned tendency to depi ct
an obj ect in its entirety, in all its details, and is in the process
of acquiring the psychological skills on whose basis the las t
form , symbolic writing, will develop. Let us give ju st one more
example of the first appearance of this kind of representational
drawing in a child. This is the "part instead of the whole" de­
vi ce we observed in the experiments involving writing a number .

Shura N., 7� years old. The child is instru cted to write

the sentence we presented above : "There are 1 , 000 stars
in the sky." The subj ect first draws a horizontal line ("the
sky" ), then carefully draws two stars, and stops . Experi­
menter : "How many do you still have to draw?" Subj ect :
The Development of Writing in the Child 185

"Only two . I'll remember there are 1 , 000 ."

Clearly, the two stars here were a sign for a large quantity.
It would be wrong, however, to assume that su ch a small child
was capable of using the "part for the whole" device . We had
occasion to observe a number of children who wrote the sentence
about 1 ,000 star s with so many "stars," i .e., marks, that after
demurring several minutes, we finally had simply to stop this
procedure, which looked as though it were going to end with a
thousand stars . A considerable degree of intelle ctual develop­
ment and abstraction are ne ces sary to be able to depict a whole
group by one or two repres entatives ; a child who is capable of
this is already at the verge of symbolic writing.

Let us consider briefly some experiments we ran in this

regard on adul ts. An adul t audience was asked to repre­
sent concrete or abstract concepts graphically; these
adults invariably depicted one attribute of the whole (e.g.,
"stupidity" was repre sented as donkey ears, "intelligence"
by a high forehead, "fear" by raised hair or big eye s, etc.).
Graphic representation by means of a particular attribute,
however, is not at all easy for a child, whose dis crimina­
ting and abstracting powers are not very well developed.

We have arrived at the question of a child' s symbolic writing,

and with this will have reached the end of our essay on the pre­
history of a child' s writing. Strictly speaking, this primitive
period of infantile literacy, which is so interesting to the psy­
chologist, comes to an end when the teacher gives a child a pen­
cil. But we should not be completely corre ct in saying such a
thing. From the time a child first begins to learn to write until
he has finally mastered this skill is a very long period, whi ch
is of particular interest for psychological resear ch. It is right
at the borderline between the primitive forms of ins cription we
have seen above, whi ch have a prehistoric, spontaneous charac­
ter, and the new cultural forms introduced in an organized fash­
ion from outside the individual. It is during this transitional
186 A. R. Luria

period, when the child has not completely mastered the new
skills but also has not completely outgrown the old, that a num­
ber of psychological patterns of particular interest emerge .
How does a child write who, although he is still unable to
write, knows some of the elements of the alphabet ? How does
he relate to these letters , and how does he (psychologically) try
to use them in his primitive practice ? These are the questions
that interest us.
Let us first describe some extremely interesting patterns we
observed in our material . Writing by no means develops along
a straight line, with continuous growth and improvement. Like
any other cultural psychological function, the development of writ­
ing depends to a considerable extent on the writing techniques
used and amounts essentially to the replacement of one such
technique by another . Development in this case may be described
as a gradual improvement in the process of writing, within the
means of each technique, and sharp turning points marking a
transition from one such technique to another. But the profound­
ly dialectical uniqueness of this process means that the transi­
tion to a new technique initially sets the process of writing back
considerably, after which it then develops further at the new and
higher level . Let us try to see what this interesting pattern
means, since without it, in our opinion, it would be impossible
for such cultural psychological functions to develop .
We saw that the prehistory of infantile writing traces a path
of gradual differentiation of the symbols used. At first the child
relates to writing things without understanding the significance
of writing; in the first stage, writing is for him not a means of
recording some specific content, but a self-contained process
involving imitation of an adult activity but having no functional
significance in itself . This phase is characterized by undiffer­
entiated scribblings; the child records any idea with exactly the
same scrawl s . Later - and we saw how this develops - differ­
entiation begins : the symbols acquire a functional significance and
begin graphically to reflect the content the child is to write down.
At this stage the child begins to learn how to read : he knows
individual letters, and he knows that these letters record some
The Development of Writing in the Child 187

content; finally, he learns their outward forms and how to make

parti cular marks . But does this mean that he now understands
the full mechanics of their use? Not at all . Moreover, we are
convinced that an understanding of the mechanisms of writing
takes place much later than the outward mastery of writing, and
that in the first stages of acquiring this mastery the child's re­
lation to writing is purely external . He understands that he can
use signs to write everything, but he does not yet unders tand
how to do this; he thus be comes fully confident in this writing
yet is still totally unable to use it . Believing completely in this
new te chnique, in the first stage of development of symbolic
alphabeti c writing the child begins with a stage of undifferenti­
ated writing he had already pas sed through long before .
Here are some examples from our re cords for different sub­
je cts obtained under different conditions .

Little Vasya G., a village boy 6 years old, could not yet
write, but knew the individual letters A and I. When we
asked him to remember and write down some sentences
we dictated, he easily did so. In his movements he showed
total confidence that he would be able to write down and
remember the dictated sentences . The results are shown
in the following re cord.
1. A cow has four legs Subje ct: I know he has four
and a tail. legs, and this (writes) is 11 I . 11
2 . Chimney sweeps are (Writes) and this is 11A . 11
black.
3. Yesterday evening it Here's rain. Here's "I"
rained. (writes).
4. There are many trees Subject: (writes) Here is "u ."
in the woods .
5. The steamer is sailing The steam goes like this
down the river . (makes a mark). Here's "I. "

The result was a column of alternate I's and A's having noth­
ing to do with the dictated sentences . Obviously, the subject had
not yet learned how to make su cl\ a connection, so that in the
188 A. R. Luria

task in which he was to read what he wrote, he

read the letters (I and A) without relating them at
all to the text .
In this case the letters were completely non­
functional ; the child was at a stage fully analogous
h with the stage studied earlier .
But one may object: the child had obviously not
yet learned the function of writing, and psychologi­
cally the letters were totally analogous to the ear­

J-( lier s cribbles . He had not yet gone beyond the

stage of primary, undifferentiated, graphic activ­
ity. This observation is quite true, but it does not
vitiate the law we wished to demonstrate. We can
present data showing that this inability to use let­
ters, this lack of understanding of the actual me ch­
anism of alphabe tic writing, persists for a long
time . To study the psychological underpinnings of
J I automatized writing skills rather than these skills
n the ms elves we selected a somewhat different ap­
proach; the children were instructed not to write
each word in a sentence completely. The results
of this test gave us a deeper insight into a child's

I�
attitude toward writing. Here is an example :

Vanya Z. , 9 year s old, a village boy, wrote

Figure 10 the letters well, and willingly participated in
our experiment. The results, however, showed
a very unique attitude toward his writing. Here is the record:
1. Monkeys have long Subject writes first "n" and
tail s. then crosses it out and writes
"i" (saying to himself : u
obezyan-J) .
2. There is a tall tree. "v"
3. It's dark in the cellar . "v "
4. The balloon soars. "v"
5. The big dog gave birth "u"
to four pups.
The Development of Writing in the Child 189

6 The boy is hungry.

. "m"
[ Translator's note : Each of the Russian sentences begins
with the letter the boy wrote down. ]
Of course, the subject was able to recall very
little of the written words on the basis of what
was written her e . The way he wrote three dif­
ferent sentences (2 , 3 , and 4 ) indu ced us to do
the following test .
In a se cond session we gave the boy six sen­
tences beginning with the preposition "u . " All
six sentences were written down as six com­
pletely identi cal letters "u" (see Figure 1 1).

These data show that the ability to write does not

ne cessarily mean that the child understands the pro­
cess of writing and that a child who can write may,
under certain conditions, display a totally undiffer­
entiated attitude toward writing and a lack of com­
prehension of the basic premises of it, namely, the
need for spe cific distinctions to record different
contents . F.igure 1 1
We obtained even clearer results when we asked
a s choolchild who had re cently learned how to write to write
some idea with any marks (or graphi c designs) ; he was forbid­
den only to use letters . The most conspicuous result of these
experiments was the surprising difficulty the child had in re­
verting to the phase of pictorial, representational writing
through which he had already passed. Our expectation, which
seemed quite reasonable, that given the conditions of our ex­
periment, the child would immediately revert to simple draw­
ings proved wrong. The child whom we had forbidden to use
letters did not revert to the pi cture stage , but remained at the
level of symbolic writing. He worked out his own signs and,
using them, tried to do the assignment. Finally, what was most
interesting of all was that in using these signs he started with
the same undifferentiated phase with which he began the devel'."'
opment of writing in general, only now he gradually developed
190 A. R. Luria

differentiated te chniques for this higher level of development.

Here is a re cord of an experiment done with Shura I.,

a city schoolboy 8� years old. We asked him to note each
sentence we dictated with marks to remember it. The
subj ect quickly consented to the experiment, and in the
first session used a very simple system . He marked each
sentence with crosses, each element of the sentence being
noted by one cros s . Here is what he produced:
Session I:
1 . A cow has four legs and a tail . XXX
(Cow - four legs - tail .)
2 . Negroes are black. XXX
(Negroes - are - black.)
3 . It rained yesterday evening. XXX
(It rained - yesterday - evening.)
4. There are many wolves in the forest. XXX
(There are - many wolves - in the forest.)
5 . House . X
6 . Two dogs , a large one and a small one . XXX
(Two dogs - large one and - small one .)

The completely undifferentiated nature of this writing shows

with graphic clarity that the subje ct had not yet grasped the me ch­
anism of symbolic writing and used it only externally, thinking
that these marks in themselves would be of assistance to him .
The effe ct of such writing was quite expe cted; the subj ect re­
membered only three of the six sentences, and moreover was
completely unable to indicate which of his markings represented
which sentence .
To follow the process in its purest form, we forbade our sub­
j e ct to make crosses . The result was a transition to a new form,
marks that were not as undifferentiated but that he continued to use
in a purelymechanical fashion. In this se cond trial, however , we
were already able to achieve some differentiation; the subje ct dis­
covered pictographic writing and resorted to it after a number
of failures with his marks . Here is the record (see Figure 12).
The Development of Writing in the Child 19 1

Session II:
1 . Monkeys (Makes two
have long marks .)
tails.
2 . There is a (Two
high column marks.)
on the street.
3 . The night (Two
is dark. marks .)
4 . There is (I'll write
one bottle down a bot-
and two tle.)
glas ses.
5. One big (Makes two
dog and one marks.)
small dog.
6 . Wood is (I'll write
thick. down wood.)

We see that at first this writing

was undiff erentiated; but then, in
cases that were espe cially condu­
cive to pictography, the subje ct
went over to a graphic depiction
of the objects. He was not consis­
tent in this, however, and at even
the slightest difficulty in depicting
something would again revert to
undifferentiated use of signs .
But in this case, we were able
to advance one step in our inquiry
Figure 1 2 into the most difficult problem of
our study, namely, the mechan­
isms by which this arbitrary con­
ventional sign is created . Session III shows this me chanism .
We gave the subje ct a number of concrete images with a word
between them identifying the situation. Figure 13 shows the inter-
192 A. R. Luria

esting process of generation of a sign to identify an abstract ter m .

Session III:
1 . There is a column. (The subje ct draws something,)
2 . The night is dark. I'll put a cir cle for the night
(draws a filled- in cir cle) .
3. The bird is flying. (The subje ct draws something.)
4. Smoke is coming from I'll draw a hou se with smoke
the chimney. (draws) .
5. The fish is swimming. Fish . . . fish. . . . I'll draw a fish.
6. The girl wants to eat. I'll draw a girl . . . . She wants to
eat (makes a mark) - there it is

�
- she wants to eat (Figure 13 ,6 , 7) .

The last is very characteristic.

The subje ct, unable to draw "hun-
ger, " reverted to his system of
signs and, next to the figure of the
little girl, placed a mark meant to
signify that the girl wanted to eat.
Pictography here is combined with
arbitrary symbolic writing, and a
sign is used where pictographic
means are not suffi cient .
Our example clearly shows that
a child initially assimilates school
experience purely externally, with­
out yet understanding the sense and 0
me chanism of using symbolic marks
In the course of our experiment,
however, a positive aspe ct of this
assimilated experience emerged;
when conditions were restricted,
the child reverted to a new, more
complicated form of pi ctographic
writing, in which the pictographic
elements were combined with sym- Figure 13
The Development of Writing in the Child 193

boli c marks used as te chnical means for remembering.

The further development of literacy involves the assimilation
of the me chanisms of culturally elaborated symbolic writing and
the use of symbolic devices to simplify and expedite the act of
re cording. This takes us beyond our topic, and we shall explore
the psychological fate of writing further in another study of adults
who are already cultural beings . We have come to the end of our
essay, and may sum up our conclusions as follows .
One thing seems clear from our analysis of the use of signs
and its origins in the child: it is not under standing that gener­
ates the act, but far more the act that gives birth to understand­
ing - indeed, the act often far precedes understanding. Before
a child has understood the sense and mechanism of writing, he
has already made many attempts to elaborate primitive methods ;
and these , for him, are the prehistory of his writing. But even
these methods are not developed all at once : they pass through
a number of trials and inventions, constituting a series of stages
with which it is very useful for an educator working with school­
age children and preschoolers to be acquainted.
The 3 - or 4 -year- old first dis covers that his scribblings on
paper can be used as a functional aid to remembering. At this
point (sometimes mu ch later) writing assumes an auxiliary in­
strumental function, and drawing be comes sign writing.
At the same time as this transformation takes place, a funda­
mental reorganization occurs in the most basic me chanisms of
the child's behavior; on top of the primitive forms of dire ct ad­
aptation to the problems imposed by his environment, the child
now builds up new, complex, cultural forms; the major psycholog­
i cal functions no longer operate through primitive natural forms
and begin to employ complex cultural devices . These devices
are tried in su ccession, and perfe cted, and in the process trans­
form the child as well. We have observed the engrossing pro­
cess of the dialectical development of complex, essentially so­
cial forms of behavior that after traversing a long path, have
brought us finally to the mastery of what is perhaps the most
priceless tool of culture .
October-December 1 928
19 4 A. R. Luria

Notes

1 ) W. Kohler, Intelligenzprufunge n an Menschenaffen. 1 9 17.

2) w. Kohler, ibid.
3) This is yet another example of a purely external relation
to writing that does not take into account its sense . We could
say that the child's relation to writing assumes a primitive,
magical character . We shall take up this point in more detail
elsewhere.
4 ) See L . S. Vygotsky, "Development of higher forms of at­
tention, " in this book.
5) It is difficult to enumerate on the spur of the moment all
the factors that allow the child to enter this phase of primary
utilization of some undifferentiated sign . The topography and
integral perception of the entire surface of the paper and the
relationships among the signs on it probably play an essential
role here. Werner (Einfuhrung in die Entwicklungspsychologie)
give s the example of the graphic production of primitive peo­
ples, some of which signifies nothing whatever and acquires
meaning only through its topographical position.
6 ) See H. Werner for details on this point in Einfuhrung in
die Entwicklungspsychologie, 1 926 .
A. R. Luria

THE DE VELOPMENT OF CONSTRUCTIVE

ACTIVITY IN THE PRESCHOOL CHILD

Psychological analysis of the development of play, so impor­

tant for the pres chool child, still suffers from relative neglect
in modern educational science.
Montessori's theory of educative games was based on concepts
of associationistic psychology that have long since been dis ­
carded . With its premise that educ ational play should develop
each of the child's senses in isolation and form in him the nec ­
essary associations, this theory attempted to def end the peda­
gogical significance of nonmeaningful activities in the cultivation
of the elementary sensations of play . Instead of meaningful play
activity, this theory proposed exercises to train the senses of
hearing, vision, and touch and regarded such exercises as par ­
ticularly essential in pedagogy, in contrast to the development
of the complex thinking activity of the child, with which the
theory was not directly concerned.
This theory was long ago demonstrated to be false by our in­
creasing knowledge of the structure of psychological processes
and by pedagogical practice .
The development of a child's mental processes cannot be re­
duced to mere progressive improvement in the functioning of

From Voprosy psikhologii rebenka dos chkol'novo vozrasta

[ Problems in the psychology of the pres chool child ] . Mos cow­
Leningrad: APN RSFSR, 1948 . Pp . 34 -64 .

195
196 A. R. Luria

the sense organs or to the formation of as sociations . Three de­

cades of resear ch in Soviet psychology have demonstrated with­
out question that a child's mental development is marked by a
succes sion of different kinds of concrete activity, a steadily
growing complexity in the structure of this activity, and the en­
ri chment of the psychological processes developing as part of
this activity. For this reason alone, the attempt to reduce the
role of educative play to the training of spe cific senses and the
formation of specific associations must be regarded as sci entif ­
ically unsound. Reflecting the state of bourgeois psychology at
the end of the 19th century, this theory sent educators off in the
wrong direction and interfered with the genuine development of
the diverse forms of mental activity typical of childhood.
A need has arisen to analyze the kinds of play activity em­
ployed in children's institutions in the light of modern ideas
about children's mental development . There is also a need to
devise psychologically sound kinds of educative play that could
be put to good use in preschool education.
fu the present article we shall des cribe studies begun several
years ago by Professor V. N. Kolbanovskii and A. N. Mirenova,
and later continued by Mirenova and me .
Games designed to develop constructive activity in the child
often consist of a set of blocks of various shapes with which the
child must build different kinds of structures. These games are
intended to develop the child's creative imagination and promote
the development of his constructive activity. They are enter­
taining, in that a variety of things can be built; yet they should,
at the same time, according to educators, develop the child's
elementary mental processes (his ability to estimate things
visually; to discriminate shapes, etc .) .
Usually two types of such constru ctive games are used in pre­
school teaching. fu the one, the child must build some sort of
structure with blocks (see Figure 1) on the basis of a model
given to him beforehand. These models are usually drawings of
the structures that can be built with the blocks; all the outlines
of the elements from which these structures are made are shown
in the drawing distinctly enough so that a child, after scrutinizing
The Development of Constructive Activity 197

it carefully, can then step by step proceed to put the elements

depicted in it together correctly. People who work with pre­
s choolers say that play of this sort teaches the child to pursue

Structure Model

Figure 1 . An example of building from an elementary figure .

a definite goal, to keep his mind on a spe cific task, to analyze

the pattern before him, to find its component parts, and, finally,
to select the required construction elements in the corre ct
shape, color, and size.
This kind of constructive game, however, very rarely lasts in
pres chool institutions. The patterns , drawn on paper, are usual­
ly quickly lost; and the task of putting the blocks into place ac­
cording to patterns is usually so boring and so unappealing that
it does not catch on with the child as an activity in its own right
but remains among the group activities led by the educator .
Hence, it is usually a se cond kind of constructive game that is
used : "free building. " In this the child is given a large set of
blocks and begins to build with them freely, making houses, a
railroad, a tractor - whatever he wishes . When constru ctive
play is used in this way, it is especially conducive to the devel­
opment of the child's creative imagination. Constructive games
of this "free" type are ordinarily very widely used.
Yet do these different uses of constructive games correspond
to the purposes play should serve, namely, to develop genuinely
constru ctive activity in the child ? Psychological analysis shows
that both of these uses of constructive games have a number of
e ssential shortcomings, and that if they are going to be continued
to be widely used, they must be subs tantially modified. A con­
structive game that is designed corre ctly from the psychological
198 A. R. Luria

point of view must meet certain requirements .

First, the constructive task with which it confronts the child
must be fully defined. He must have a definite goal before him .
This goal may be stated verbally (given by someone else, or for­
mulated by the child himself) or may be in the form of a model
to which the child must refer in building the required structure.
In either cas e the child must observe certain conditions as he
builds; he must learn to analyze the problem, find ways to solve
it, select the blocks that match the elements of the model, and
find the distinctive features in how they are constru cted, reject­
ing blocks that are unsuitable, and selecting combinations that
will enable him to complete his building exercise . Only if these
conditions are met, only if the child maintains a clear idea of
what he is doing and is obliged to find the right ways to solve it,
will the game be really constru ctive and capable of developing
his creative activity and visual analytical acuity. Only under·
such conditions will play remain constructive for a child.
Obviously, neither of the two above-described kinds of construc­
tive play used in children's institutions meet these requirements .
Building on the basis of a pattern, for example , as depicted in
Figure 1 , gives the child a completely defined goal , namely, to
reproduce the figure from blocks . But it does not meet the sec­
ond condition: it does not spur the child to find the means needed
to carry out the constructive exercis e . What is distinctive about
the drawing is that all its component parts are clearly visible
in outline . Hence, there is really no longer a truly constru ctive
exercise . All the child must do is select one by one the blocks
he notes one by one in the drawing. It is not hard to see that'
there is no longer anything constructive about this task: the
child proceeds step by step, sele cting the blocks, until finally
the whole picture is completed of itself, as it were . With this
kind of play activity there is little pos sibility of developing the
child's creative imagination or active intelligence . Since there
is nothing in this task that requires reasoning, in the best of
cas es it will provide only objective practice for functions involved
in the sele ction of like elements - i . e . , visual asses sment of
size, discrimination of color and shape, etc. Obje ctively, such
The Development of Constructive Activity 199

play does no more than train the child's elementary perceptions,

and for all practical purposes goes no farther than the Montes­
sori game s . Indeed, be cause such a game does not involve a
really constructive task, it becomes boring for the child; and the
attentive observer will note that children will complete su ch con­
structive activity, copying the models in the drawing in all their
details, only in rare cases .
The se cond kind [of play ] - free building - meets our con­
ditions as inadequately as the first . Psychologically, free con­
stru ctive play is completely diff erent from building from a pat­
tern . What most distinguishes it is that it gives the child a tan­
gible and appealing task to perform. The goal, formulated by
either the child or the teacher - to build a castle, tractor, train,
etc . - allows the child to form an image of the end product in
his mind, although it does not tell him how to achieve it . The
child must find the way himself; he must himself select those
construction elements suited for completing the task and the pro­
cedures for accomplishing it. As he 'Quilds, both the task itself
and the ways he finds to do it are flexible; the task becomes
more subtle, more refined; new details are added, and new and
better means are found as he goe s along. Be cause of this psy­
chological structure, free building activity is always interesting
to the child and holds his attention for a relatively long time .
However, although it may meet this requirement, this type of
activity has a number of defects that considerably detract from
its pedagogical value .
In formulating his task, the child i s not at all concerned with
whether he can accomplish it or whether the material at hand
has obje ctive building properties that make it suitable for com­
pleting the task. The reason for this lies in certain specific f ea­
tures of the preschool child's mental makeup, particularly in the
psychology of children's play. A child's free play activity un­
folds along a plane of ad ho c meanings ; for this reason play can
to some extent get along without an analysis of the objective
properties of the material with which the child is playing. In
creative play a child quite readily will give some element an
ad hoc designation to suit the purpose of his play. He puts down
2 00 A. R. Luria

a block and says, "Let this be a tree"; another block may be a

cow, and a third, smaller block, a dog. Using the blocks the
child, espe cially the younger pres chooler, will give free rein to
his creative play, which will remain entertaining, but have none
of the features of constructive activity. Once he has de cided
what the blocks stand for, the child is no longer concerned with
whether the objective properties of the things wholly fit the task.
Constru ctive play is ess entially transformed into an ad hoc la­
beling game . The child is no longer required to sele ct elements
suited to putting together a whole stru cture; and whereas it was
originally a means of developing observational skills, thinking,
and constructive activity, such play has now been transformed
into a means for developing the child's speech and imagination .
· This potential for drifting from a truly constructive activity
into ad hoc creative play presents a considerable obstacle to the
child's free constructive building. fu cases in which building
does not take place in accordance with the dire ct instructions of
the teacher and becomes the child's own free activity, this drift
is espe cially likely to occur; and the value of this type of play
for the development of the child's constructive thinking be comes
negligible . Even a child who has been immersed in such con­
structive activity for a long time may not develop the ability to
analyze which constructive elements are suited for ac complish­
ing particular tasks and which typical combinations are best
suited for other cases . The conditions ne ces sary for developing
the child's own ability to think constructively do not exist.
A new type of constructive play is needed, one that would pro­
vide the child with the required goal s, would still be appealing,
and would guarantee that his play would not exceed the bounds of
truly constructive activity. A. N. Mirenova once proposed such
a play activity, which involved building from solid models . This
method, which meets all the above enumerated requirements,
takes the following forms .
The child is pre sented with a solid model that he must repro­
du ce from the blocks he has at hand. This model diff ers from
those normally used in pres chool institutions in that the contours
of the individual elements from which it is made are hidden from
The Development of Constructive Activity 201

the child . This i s accomplished by giving the child only the out­
line of the model he must constru ct, or else - and this is even
better - a model made by the teacher is covered with thick
white paper that conceals its individual components (Figure 2 ) .

Structure Model
Figure 2 . An example of building f rom a model figure .
As is evident from the figure, the model gives the child a spe­
cific task, but does not tell him how to ac complish it. Any part
of the model (wall, roof) may be made from different elements,
and to accomplish the task the child must find different alterna­
tive s of the required solution. Psychologically this kind of con­
stru ctive play differs sharply from both of the forms described
above .
The model gives the child a completely defined task to per­
form. Be cause the model does not also offer a ready-made so­
lution to the task and the child must himself find the required
solutions, the task is interesting and often holds the child' s at­
tention for a long time . However, in seeking the right solution
the child is always obliged to remain within the framework of
constru ctive activity. He must find the required constructive
solutions and exer cise his analytical reason to determine which
elements can be used to construct a straight wall, for example .
With the model at hand he is continually able to measure his so­
lution against it and to assess whether it is corre ct. E ven slight
discrepancies in dimensions or shape will always be noticeable
to the child when he compares the model and the structure he
has built from it. Thus, in performing this task a child always
remains within the framework of genuinely constructive thinking
and runs no risk of drifting into a merely nominal labeling of the
elements (window, roof) of whi ch the structure is composed, in
which his constru ctive activity would degenerate into simple
202 A. R. Luria

spur-of- the-moment play.

Play of this sort, designed to develop visual thinking, analy­
sis, and constructive synthesis, mu st necessarily develop com­
plex for ms of perception in the child, and will not degenerate
into the simple play of free creative imagination.
Our purpose in the present paper is to determine what sort of
psychologi cal influence can be exerted on play stru ctured in this
manner, what aspe cts of visual thinking and perception are cul­
tivated by such play, and whether the psychological and intelle c­
tual changes it achieves persist for some time . (!)
To obtain sufficiently unambiguous data on the psychological
changes produced by the des cribed type of constructive play, we
were obliged to compare it with some of the other forms of con-
, structive play and games in common use . For this comparison
we chose ordinary model building, in which the elements from
which the obj ect is to be constructed are clearly designated on
an accompanying diagram .
The experiment was redu ced to the following: one group of
children was allowed to practice building for an extended period,
using only the methods indicated to them . (We shall call this
method "building by elements , " or method E for short.) Anoth­
er group of children was allowed to do its building with Mire­
nova' s models for the same amount of time (this method we
shall call "building by models , " or method M for short). The
two groups of children were engaged in both these kinds of play
for the same amount of time . Of course , the children practi cing
with method E built a considerably greater number of struc ­
tures (since each of them was easier and took less time) . The
children practicing with method M accomplished considerably
fewer tasks in the same amount of time .
The groups of children occupied with these constru ctive
games had, of course, to forgo any other forms of play for the
time being. Only if that were the case would we be able to ob­
serve the effect of prolonged use of each of these kinds of play
activity in sufficiently pure form .
To ensure that the results of our study would be on as firm
foundations as possible, each kind of play activity had to be in-
The Development of Constructive Activity 2 03

vestigated in a sufficiently large number of children relatively

similar in development.
It was only rarely that this last requirement could be fully
met. Usually the composition of the groups of children was
quite varied, and it could easily happen that one of the groups
we intended to compare quite by chance had a disproportionate
number of more developed children.
This, of course, would inevitably influence the results . To
eliminate this problem without at the same time being forced
to observe large groups of children (random variation within
groups can be eliminated in such cases only by using a large
number of subjects), we took a completely different course. We
carried out our study by means of a comparative analysis of two
very small groups of monozygotic twins .
Monozygotic twins (i.e ., from the same egg) {!) have identical
natural endowments, so that only in rare cases - for example,
if one of them has suffered prolonged illness or been reared in
a different environment - will they display any notable differ­
ences in abilities . We designed our experiment with this in
mind and carried it out in the kindergarten for identical twins
at the Institute for Medi cal Geneti cs . For our purposes we se­
l e cted five pairs of monozygotic twins between the ages of 5 -i
and 6 years. They were divided into two groups so that each
twin of a pair was in a different group, lived in a different room,
had a different room for doing his work, and met his sibling only
on walks . Each of the se groups, consisting of five children each,
was given constructive tasks to do daily for 2 i months, one
group using method E and the other, method M. Altogether,
each twin performed a total of 50 experimental tasks . Before
beginning the experiments we gave each pair of twins a psycho­
logical examination to determine spe cific features of their per­
ception and their visual constructive thinking. After the exami­
nations, a test was also run in which the two groups were given
control tasks to perform, involving building from diagrams
showing individual elements, building from models, and free
constru ctive activity. This control enabled us to determine dif­
ferences introduced into the children's constructive activity by
2 04 A. R. Luria

what they had learned in school .

In order to be better able to study the changes produ ced in
perception and visual thinking as a result of prolonged practice
in constructive play, the two groups were given a series of spe­
cial psychological tests in which we studied the spe cific charac­
teristics of these pro cesses . The results showed that the con­
structive play te chniques we used really did result in consider­
able psychological changes and that the visual thinking processes
of our two groups of twins did indeed begin to show substantial
differences.
The constructive activity of our twin groups was subjected to
a psychological analysis just before the exercises des cribed
above were begun.
Both groups had considerable difficulties in constru ctive ac­
tivity: for example, the children would often sele ct blocks of the
wrong dimensions and sometimes of the wrong shape, and hence
ended up with structures that often diverged flagrantly from the
example they had been given. The main building problem for
both groups was that they very often would simply announce that
some particular block represented such and such a feature on
their model rather than build from the blocks the actual shapes
required. For instance, if the model had a pitched roof, they
would often use a pyramid or simply lean two elongated blocks
against one another and call this a "pointed roof. " If the model
had a window, they would take a wooden cylinder and call it a
window, showing no concern at all for whether it conformed in
all details to the model . Doors or windows were also often rep­
resented by wooden blocks. The re sult would be a figure which
bore no resemblance at all to the proposed example or diagram
and in which all the details in the example were merely nomi­
nally represented (B, C, D, E, in Figure 3 ) .
Because o f this principal psychological feature, the child's
constructive activity be came a pe culiar form of labeling or nam­
ing. One might say that instead of constructing the model, the
child gave a visual account of it. As a rule the children were
satisfied with the results of their efforts and were not aware
that what they had produced left something to be desired.
 The Development of Constructive Activity 205

A c

Figure 3 . Types of model structures used with groups M and E .

After 2 � months of practice in constructive activity, the two

twin groups were given a control task. They were given three
each of the two different kinds of examples (E and M) and had
to build them from the blocks they had at hand . The results of
this control were very illuminating.
After the long period of practice with one or the other of the
methods, the two groups of twins now began to show substantial
differences in their constru ctive activity. Group M built a cor­
rect reproduction of the proposed model of the figure in 74% of
2 06 A. R. Luria

the cases; in 20 % of the cases the reproduction was impre cise,

and in only 6 % was it totally inadequate . In contrast, the chil­
dren in group E produced not a single correct reproduction of
the model, and in 80% of the c ases their attempt was flagrantly
inadequate .
This result, of course, could mean that children in group E
lagged considerably behind in the kind of activity in which they
had had no practice and that our control experiment merely
demonstrated the effe ct of the re cent practice . It was reason­
able to expect that if both groups of children were presented an
" elemental figure" in which all the component parts were quite
evident and in which the children of group E had had long prac­
tice, then group E would make a better showing. However, as
Table 1 shows, this was not the case. The difference between

Table 1
Control Construction Tasks for Groups E and M

Figure
reproduced Figure
Figure adequately reproduced
reproduced but not completely
incorre ctly pre cisely adequately
Experiment Group (% ) (% ) (% )
A. Elemental M 0 .0 13 .3 86 . 7
figure E 6 .6 66 .6 26 .8
B. Model M 6 .0 2 0 .0 74 .0
figure E 80 .0 2 0 .0 0 .0

the two groups of twins remained, and children in group E made

a much poorer showing even in the type of building that they had
practiced for 2 -i months . The children in group M reproduc ed
the example completely correctly in 86 . 7% of the cases, whereas
the children in group E did so in only 2 6 . 8 % of the c ases, and
in most c ases (66 .6 % ) the building was rather c rude, with the
wrong dimensions , windows and doors in the wrong places, the
wrong shapes, etc .
The Development of Constructive Activity 2 07

A psychological analysis of the mistakes made by the children

shows that the two groups approached the construction task in
quite different ways . As a rule, children in group M had already
learned during the practice period how to proceed systematical­
ly, as is required in building: they examined the model careful­
ly, analyzed it into its component parts in their minds, and tried
to reproduce the structural relationships they per ceived in it .
In contrast, the children in group E usually did not go any far­
ther than the simplistic labeling kind of construction we have de­
scribed above . In many cases they did not reprodu ce the ne ces­
sary proportions of the model, but simply labeled its various
parts without regard for whether the ne ces sary constructive re­
lationships were retained . As a result, there was a gross dis­
crepancy between the example and the end product for group E .
Figure 3 illustrates this dis crepancy.
It is understandable that su ch dis crepancies occurred mainly
in reproducing the solid model (in which the relationships among
the elements were hidden) . In reproduction of the elemental ex­
ample, there was almost no instance of the simplisti c kind of
building by labeling; the children in group E, on the other hand,
very often did not get the dimensions right, did not observe the
right proportions and relations, etc .
These findings show that group- M children had learned how to
analyze the model visually into its component parts and had .
achieved a much greater pre cision in their perception of the re­
lationships in which these elements stood with regard to one an­
other in the figure, in their perception of the size and shape of
these elements, etc.
Sharp differences between the two groups of children appeared
not only in how the figures looked after being built but also in
the actual process of building. Table 2 shows this quite clearly.
We see that usually the children in group M did their building
according to some sort of plan. Before they built their model,
the children examined the example carefully, tried out different
alternatives, and only then set about methodically achieving their
objective . Most of the children in group M worked in this planned
m anner. In contrast, the children in group E were almost
2 08 A. R. Luria

totally unsystematic, having no sort of plan . They usually set

right to work: without any preliminary analysis or deliberation,
they took the blocks that seemed to them to be the right ones and
began to build the various parts of the model with them . This
impulsiveness, which was almost completely absent in the chil­
dren in group M, was found in most of the children in group E .
It is especially interesting that it occurred in both kinds of con­
struction: with detailed diagrams, and with solid models . This
indicates that the habits of systemati c analysis and visual think­
ing in doing constru ctive activity were highly developed in chil­
dren in group M, but remained undeveloped in the group- E children.

Table 2
Control Building Test for Groups E and M

Direct, Methodical,
impulsive planlike
building building
Experiment Group (% ) (% )
A. Figure composed M 13 .3 86 . 7
of elements E 73 .4 26 .6
B. Solid model figure M 6 .6 93 .4
E 66 .7 3 3 .3

The last characteristic in regard to which the two groups di­

verged was also extremely instructive . It was typical of chil­
dren in group M that they almost always noticed the mistakes
they made ( shown in Table 3 ) ; and if the teacher expressed any
doubt that they had reprodu ced the figure correctly, the children
would easily find the mistake and in many cases would correct
it. In contrast, the children in group E were usually completely
satisfied with their results and did not noti ce their mistakes .
As Table 3 shows, this inability to uncover their own mistakes
or the inability to single them out and corre ct them was charac­
teristic of most of the children in group E regardless of the ap­
proach to building used.
The Development of Constructive Activity 2 09

Table 3
Analysis of the Mistakes Made in
Building by Groups E and M

Noticed
Did not mistakes, but Noticed and
noti ce could not cor- corrected
mistakes rect them mistakes
Experiment Group (% ) (% ) (% )
Building from M 1 1 .2 0 88.8
elements E 85.6 0 14 .4
Building solid M 0 26 .6 73 .4
models E 46 .0 4 0 .0 13 .4

Sometimes this inability to notice and analyze the mistakes

they made in building was quite pronounced. The child who had
constructed item D in Figure 3 , in which nothing matched the
exampl e, the round window being represented by a simple cylin­
der, and the roof being in the form of two boards placed together,
continued stubbornly to insist that he had built everything quite
correctly and, commenting on his own work, declared, "Here is
a window, and there is a window; here is a roof, and there is a
roof ; everything is okay. " This paradox becomes intelligible if
we assume that in trying to analyze their building and compare
it with the example, what the children compared was what the
various parts were construed to represent, not the fidelity of
the outward design. Hence, for this child the mere fact that he
construed the example correctly (quite irrespective of how his
building was put together) was enough to make him conclude that
the object he had built coincided completely with the model and
not notice all the disparities . The control experiments showed
that children in group M had really developed constru ctive think­
ing by practice with the solid model , whereas the activity of the
children in group E remained at the same level as before .
In the experiments just described, we placed the children
in clearly unequal situations : we presented the solid model to
the children in group E, who had never had any previous prac-
2 10 A. R. Luria

tice in building these types. As might be expected, in this kind

of constructive activity there was a considerable disparity be­
tween the two groups of twins. The advantage of the children in
group M also showed up in the control experiments (with detailed
diagrams ) : the children in group M did these piece-by- piece
tasks mu ch better than the children in group E, who had had spe­
cial practice in them for 2 � months . However, in order to dem­
onstrate this advantage obtained by the group M children better,
it was neces sary to place the two groups of children in more
equal conditions .
This we did in a spe cial series of control tasks called "build­
ing from missing parts . " Both groups of children were given
an example that outwardly differed in no way from the detailed
diagram ; there was a substantial difference, however ; this mod­
el was built from elements some of which were missing in the
material available . The children had to picture this model in
their minds, fill in the missing parts with some new combina­
tion, and reproduce the latter from elements that did not figure
in the presented example . Thus, the task, which outwardly was
a pie ce-by- pie ce one , required the same analytical abilities
needed in building from a solid model .
In these control tasks the children in group M displayed in­
comparably greater building aptitude than their partners who
had been taught by method E . Figures 4 and 5 give examples of
the differences between the two groups in these tasks . As a rule,
the children in group M easily overcame the obstacles that arose
as the particular task was being carried out. They readily var­
ied the relationships among the elements, replaced the mis sing
elements with new ones, and built the model with completely new
combinations of blocks . In contrast, their partners in group E
were quite unable to cope with this task .
As a rule, they simplistically reprodu ced the same relation­
ships among elements they found in the example, despite the fact
that they did not have the blocks they needed. As a re sult the
structures they built were completely inadequate (see Figure
4B) . They would begin their building with one block that was
either larger or smaller than the one required, so that the end
The Development of Constructive Activity 2 11

Model Materials

Subject E
Figure 4 . Examples of structures built by children
in groups E and M in "missing element " experiments .
result was either too large o r too small . This fixation on their
immediate perceptions and total inability to modify them occurred
with most of the children in group E, but with none of those

Child's Model Child's Child's

material material

Subject Subje ct Subject Subject

Lun. (M) Lun. (E ) Mer . (M) Mer . (E )
Figure 5. Examples of structures built by children
in groups E and M in "missing element" experiments .
2 12 A. R. Luria

in group M, of whom, on the contrary, a certain free- thinking

in their constructive activity was typical .
Table 4 shows that the free substitution of mis sing elements
observed in 86 .6 % of the cases in group M was done by only 13 .4 %
of the children in group E . Consequently, by stressing practice
in method M, we were able to achieve a substantial change in
the analytical perception of children trained by this method .
Table 4
Experiments in Building with Missing Elements

Refusal to substi- Substitution Free substitu-

tute the mis sing with similar tion of missing
elements elements elements
Group (% ) (% ) (% )
M 0 .0 13 .4 86 .6
E 33 .3 53 .3 13 .4

In subsequent experiments we made a more detailed analysis

of the structure of perception in the two groups of children.
The first question that occurred to us was to as certain wheth­
er training produced any clear difference between the two groups
in the perception of simple geometric figures, i .e . , whether the
dis crimination of elementary geometri c figures was more pre­
cise in group- M children or whether there were no noticeable
differences between the two groups in this respect. To answer
this question the children were shown successively a series of
simple geometric figures (triangle, square , trapezoid, etc . ) ,
each figure being displayed for a brief time ; after each presen­
tation the children were to draw the figure from memory. Table
5 gives our results .
An examination of the table shows that we were unable to ob­
serve any difference between the two groups of children in these
experiments. Thus, prolonged practice in constructive activity
with the model method helped to develop the elementary acts of
perception of geometric figures equally for both groups .
The Development of Constructive Activity 2 13

Table 5
Reproduction of Simple Geometric
Figures by Groups E and M

Incorrect Inaccurate Corre ct

reproduction reproduction reproduction
(% ) (% ) (% )
M E M E M E
Average per-
centage corre ct 14 .3 1 1 .4 14 .3 14 .3 71 .4 74 .3

Analogous results were obtained in another serie s of experi­

ments designed to analyze how long the children were able to
maintain visual concentration on differences among elementary
geometri c figures. The children were given a large number of
geometric figures cut out of plywood (five- and six-pointed
stars, triangles, trapezoids, etc .) and asked to analyze them,
concentrating on this task for an extended period. The results
of this test were almost the same for the two groups .
The experiments just des cribed suggested the hypothesis that
the differences we noted in the A
constructive activity of the two
groups of children were due not 1.. -11- 1 11"1 � L,
1 2 3 4
so much to differences in their
perception of elements, but to -L J_
5
differences in their ability to
analyze more complex compo­ s _[ s
7
nents of the visually per ceived
stru ctures and, especially, in B
their ability to per ceive geo­
� � -1 I l l
metric relations . To test this 2 8
hypothesis we pres ented the
series of figures shown in Fig­
5 G 7
ure 6 A to both groups of chil­
dren . The distinguishing fea­ Figure 6 . Experi­
ture of these figures lay in the ment in discrimination
fact that although they had a of geometric relations .
2 14 A. R. Luria

distinct geometric shape, they also embodied complex geometric

relations; their component parts were arranged spatially with
respe ct to one another in such a way that a regular figure could
be reproduced by irregularly arranging its parts in space . These
figures were also presented to the children for a brief period,
and then they were asked to draw them from memory.
Usually the children in group M corre ctly reproduced both the
basi c shape of each drawing and the relationship of its parts to
one another. In contrast, the children in group E in most cas es
reproduced the shape of the parts of the figures corre ctly, as
Figure 6 B shows, but very often arranged them incorre ctly in
space, being unable to preserve the ne cessary relationships
among the parts . The test showed that although there was no
notable difference between the two groups so far as the corre ct
'reproduction of the figures was concerned, there was a distinct
difference in the reproduction of the geometric relations . The
children in group M correctly reproduced these relations in 80 %
of the cases, whereas the children in group E did so in only 5 1 % .
These results induced us to analyze a little more closely to
what extent the children in the two groups were able to perceive
and reproduce geometric relations .
To do this we gave the two groups the task of copying a draw­
ing resembling a honeycomb. To copy this drawing corre ctly it
was not enough simply to perceive it : it was necessary to ana­
lyze the features of its construction, to note in what relation each
element in the drawing stood to another, and to understand that
the side of each element was at the same time a part of another
element oc cupying another position. �)
Figure 7 shows that this task, which is very difficult for pre­
school-age children, was accomplished successfully by both
groups of children. It is evident from Figure 7 that group- M
children usually tried to understand the logic of the construction
of what they had to draw and often partly solved the problem by
finding the relations of the elements to one another. In contrast,
the children in group E usually did not go beyond perception of
the individual elements in isolation; and only one of the most
gifted children from this group was able at least partly to cope
The Development of Constructive Activity 2 15

with the problem, although he was still unable to find the ne ces­
sary relationships .

r::J

�
Subj ect
Lun. (M)
Q
{j
B � ubject
Lun . (E )

�O Q
n Subj ect
c''' Mer . (E )

Figure 7. Reproduction of a drawing by

children in groups E and M.

The resul ts in Table 6 show the tremendous difference be­

tween the two groups .

Table 6
Percentage of Corre ct Solutions by Groups M
and E of a Problem Involving Copying a Drawing

From memory With obj ect present

(% ) (% )
M E M E
Average percentage
of correct solutions 80 20 80 20

These findings convincingly demonstrate that the exercises

2 16 A. R. Luria

the s e children had done with constructive play using m odels re ­

ally had given them the ability not only to perc eive elementary
geometric shapes but also to analyze geometric relations that were
not immediately acce ssible to perception and that they ther efo re
had to analyze further in o rder to make the p rop er di s c riminations .
Jn addition, the experiments des cribed above give rise to the
following qu es tion . The transformation of a simple perception
into a complex a ct of visual anal ysis makes per ception more
voluntary. A child who has l earned how to analyze visual ma­
terial pres ented to him learns how to distinguish at will the re­
quired elements in that material; his pe rc eption thu s loses its
passive nature and be come s in creas ingly active and voluntary.
But did the series of exer ci ses we condu cted with the children
really have an effe ct on the development of voluntary per ception ?
To answer this question we carried out a series of spe cial ex­
periments designed by A. N. Mirenova .
Children in both groups were
pres ented a che ckerboard-type
grid ( Figure 8 ) . A number of
small figures were arranged
along its side s . The child had
to find wher e the figures would
inte r s e c t . He was asked que s ­
tions o f this type : "Where will
one bi cycl e meet the other bi­
cycl e ? 1 1 ; "Where will one rab­
bit meet the other rabbit ? ";
' 'Where will the bi cycl e meet
Figure 8. Board fo r iso lating
the rabbit ? " ; et c . He then had
arbitrary elements from a
to show the point whe re the
uniform field.
line s , extended in his mind, in­
tersected, isolating it from a uniform field .
As Table 7 shows, the children in the two groups differed
sharply in their solution of this proble m . The children in group
M in 100% of the cas es e asily solved the problem, whereas those
in group E were abl e to find the point in the uniform field in only
34 % of the cases . Analogous re sults were obtained in other ,
The Deve lopment of C onstructive Ac tivity 2 17

more complicated experiments on voluntary dis crimination of

complex figures in a uniform field.

Table 7
Pinpointing a Spe cific Point in a Uniform Field
by Children in Groups M and E

M E
Unable to Voluntary Unable to Voluntary
dis criminate di s crimination di s criminate discrimination
(% ) (% ) (% ) (% )
Average
by group 0 100 66 34

The children were shown the

complex grid ( consis ting of sep­
arate triangles ) in Figure 9 and
were asked to find one of the fig­
ures shown and then isolate it
either by removing the other
elements in the grid or by tracing
around it with a finger . This task
doubtl ess requires considerable
voluntary pe r ception and is very
difficult for pres chool children.
However , as Table 8 s hows, Figure 9. Isolating a figure
group- M children were able to f rom a uniform field .
carry it ou t with relative ease ,
whereas i t was al most completely beyond the children i n group E .

Table 8
Isolation of a Figure from a Uniform
Field by Groups M and E

Figures 1 2 3
Subje cts M E M E M E
Corre ctly done (% ) 100 40 80 20 60 20
2 18 A. R. Luri a

This experiment is graphic demonstration that the practi c e

the children i n group M had i n constru c tive activity did indeed
help to develop their ability to discriminate voluntarily a figure
in a uniform field, an ability whi ch, quite understandably, is an
ess ential prerequisite for constru ctive thinking. To dem onstrate
this point conclusively, we condu cted another series of experi­
ments that were especially difficult for the childre n . They were
shown the complex grid in Figure 10. In it they had visually to

I222I
K&2>1
D2J 8 CT
; 2 3

Figure 10. Dis crimination of shapes

against a uniform bctckground .

disc riminate ten complex figures by cir cling the m with a pencil .
Becau se of the difficulty of the task, they were given an u nlim­
ited amount of time . As is evident from Table 9, the two groups
differed significantly.

Table 9
Di s cri mination of C omplex Shapes
by Children in Groups M and E

M E
Average per centage
of correct solutions 82 .5 53 .0
The D eve lopment of C onstructive Activity 2 19

The children in group M were usually able to deal with this

task succes sfully, whereas half of the children in group E were
simply unable to dis cri minate the required shape . The se differ­
ences between partners in groups E and M were negligible in
only one cas e, a particularly gifted twin pair ; for another pair,
somewhat retarded in their development, this task was almost
as difficult for the one as for the other .
From everything we have said, it may be assumed that in the
process of constructive activity in which they pra cti ced model­
building, children not only acquired the ability to use perc eption
for voluntary anal ysis but they also learned how to maneuver
voluntarily with the visual stru ctures they had di sc riminated,
i . e . , their pe r ception acquired the needed mobility.
To che ck this hypot hesis two more series of experiments were
run on the two groups . First they were shown the s eries of geo­
metr i c figures in Figure 11. They
were asked to examine the se fig­
ures attentively and turn them
2 around in their minds, drawing
the m so the right side was on the
left and the left side on the right .

4 5 This experiment required the child

not only to analyze the geometric
relationships in a particular fig­
ure but also to fix cons ciously on
7
the se relationships while turning
the figure in his mind . This abi l ­
Figure 11. Geome tri c ity t o move the figure mentally
fi gures u s ed in the is a psychologically c omplex
rearrangement task. and highly developed form of ac -
tivity .
Once again we noted considerable diff e renc e s between the
two groups of children in this task . The children in group
M c oped with this task with relative eas e . On th e other hand,
the children in group E usually found that it p re sented insuper­
able difficultie s ; they simply c opied the drawing, and were
totally unable to reverse it mentally. Their p er c eption had
220 A. R. Luria

simply not acquired the needed mobility .

Table 10
Movement o f Geom etric Shapes
by Children in Groups M and E

M E
Average per centage
of correct solutions 82 .8 2 5 .4

Table 10 sums up the r esults of this s erie s of experiments . It

shows that the children in group
M were able mentally to shift
the position of the figure cor­
rectly in 82 .8% of the case s , []

[]
whereas those i n group E did so
in only 25 .4 % of the cases . In­
deed, some of the children were
completely unable to cope with
the task. Model
Analogous re sults were ob­
tained in another, easier ex­
periment . The children were
pres ented a model of a hou s e
with a small wing attached on
the right. The model was built
Subject
of blocks . The door s and win­ Pol. (M)
dows in the hou s e (see Figure
12) were situated at the ends
of a diagonal running from top
to bottom and right to left . The

�
children were asked to draw the
mirror image of this hou s e . A
child was shown visually what
Subject Subject
he was supposed to do, although
Kost. (M) Kost. (E)
no drawings were shown to Figur e 12. Exam ples of
illustrate the desired resul t . mi rro r- image drawing by
Usually the two groups o f twins in groups M and E .
The D eve lopment of C onstruc tive Activity 22 1

children produ ced quite different results . The children in group

M in most cases carried out the task corre ctl y, depicting the
hou se with the wing on the left and the windows and door s along
a diagonal running from upper left to bottom right. The children
in group E put the wing on the left, but drew the windows and
door s in the same ge ometri c relations hip as perceived in the
visual model, being in capable of abstracting from their visual
per c eption. Figure 12 shows exampl es of how children in both
groups performed the task .
T able 11 shows the fi gures, from which we see that not one
of the twins in group E was able to complete this task, whereas
60% of those in group M were able to do so .

Table 11
Experiment with T ransposition
of Relationships in Figures (% )
Incomplete Partial Full
Group transposition transposition transposition

M 0 40 60
E 40 60 0

If the children in group M had really acquired the ability to

abstract from their visual per c eption of an obj ect and transpose
it in their minds, i . e . , if their per ception had acquired the nec­
e s sary mobility, then this had to show up in other for ms of ac­
tivity as well , even activity that was quite different from the
content of the exer cises they carried out in their constructive
play. To te st this hypothesis we gave the children the following
task . The experimenter and the subj e ct stood facing one anoth­
er, and the subj e ct had to reprodu ce the experimenter ' s actions
exactly, raising fi rst one and then the other arm to his ey e, nose,
and ear as the experimenter did s o . In order to do this a sub­
j e ct would have to abstract from his immediate perception to
raise his hand on the side contralateral to the experimenter ' s .
This te st, whi ch i s so difficult for pre s chool children, was
quite within the abilities of the children in group M, who did it
222 A . R . Luria

corre ctly in 87.4 % of the case s ; children in group E performed

much more poorly (except for one c ase), doing the task correc tly
in only 44 .0% of the c as e s .
This experiment, which w e repeated many times, gave the
same resul ts each time . It thus provided a quite c lear indic ation
that constructive activity with model - building really doe s devel­
op very complex forms of visual analysis, with suffi cient mobility.
The conclusion to be drawn from all this is that prolonged
practi ce in constructive activity with model- building does indeed
develop a child ' s ability to set up a building problem and work
out an active analysis of the visual material . We see that play
of this sort transforms constru ctive building into a purposeful
activity, to which the child applies his mind correctl y. We al so
s ee that as a result of this activity, the child ' s pe rc eption ac­
quires voluntar ine s s and mobility; and he learns to form distinct
mental image s , which are readily su s ceptible to his control .
Another question aris e s , however : Are all the se achievements
re stri cted wholly to passive constructive activity (building from
ready-made models ) , or do they al so foster the development of
active creativity ?
The fact alone that these exe r cises made the child ' s per c ep­
tion more active and more mobile and that constructive activity
be came more methodical under their influ ence is a strong indi­
cation that free creativity al so bene fits considerably. To answer
this qu e s tion we gave the two groups of children a new control
task in which they were to build anything they pleas ed from the
materials available to the m . They were given a whole set of
building materials and told to build what they wished . The se ex­
periments were done with the children individually, s o that they
could not influence one another .
The r esults showed that, as a rul e , children who previously
had not differed notably from one another now displayed com­
pletely different abil ities in free constructive activity.
Usually all the children in group M went about their task quite
methodically. They first mapped out the problem for the m s elve s ,
sele cted the elements they would need t o build what they had de­
cided on, and then built it in su ch a way that if one followed what
The Deve lopment of Constructive Ac tivity 223

they were doing step b y step, one would say that they were oper­
ating a c cording to a definite plan . The initial de sign be came
more detailed as they went along, and it was only at the very end
of the building that a completed whole emerged.
The children in group E went about their building activity in a
totally different way. Usually they did not have a clear idea of
what they wanted to build at the very outset . There was nothing
distin ctly purpose ful or goal- dir e ct ed about their cons tructive
a ctivity. One part was set up and other pie ces added to it, and
i t was difficult to discern the unfolding of any clear plan in the
r elatively complex pile of el ements they had put together . Some­
ti mes the building ended up as nothing but a complex �epetition
of individual parts , and the initial intention was formulated in
word s rather than embodied in any tangible constru ction .

1st stage 2nd stage 3rd stage

Subj ect Lun. (M)
Figure 13 . Stages in the
constructive activity of
a twin from group M .

Figures 1 3 and 1 4 indicate this

quite clearly. They show four su c­
c e s sive stages in free constru ctive
a ctivity of two twins, the first of
whom was in group M and the sec­
ond, in group E . If we examine
the s e figure s c arefully, we see how
methodically the free cons tructive
building progr e s s ed for the group-
224 A . R . Luria

M twin, and how randomly and uns ystemati cally the group- E
twin piled together all the pieces without any cl early defined goal
or plan. Thus, there were distinct psychological differences in
the creative a ctivity of the two twins .

1st stage · 2nd stage 4th stage

Subj ect Lun. (E)

Figure 14 . Stages in the constru ctive

activity of a twin from group E .

These experiments thus confirm that by giving a child a good

deal of practice with constructive tasks over a prolonged pe riod
we were able to develop his creative constructive abilitie s .
Ou r study would be incomplete without one final, very impor­
tant qu e stion : How las ting were the r e sults we obtained in de­
veloping thi s constru ctive activity ? Do the psychological differ­
ences between the s e two groups persist for s ome time, or do
they disappear quite quickly, being limited to the temporary ac­
quisition of the skill l earned during the activity ?
To answer thi s question we stopped any further spe cial prac­
tice exer cises in constru ctive activity and checked the differ­
ences we observed in the two groups 1! years later . Thi s time
only three sets of twins from the original study were compared .
At the time of this control experiment the children were from
7 years to 7 years and 8 months ol d .
Two twin groups that earlier had had pra cti ce from a model
and building from elements were asked to r eprodu ce thre e con­
trol model s . We distinguished among a primitive approach to
the task ( 1 point), an inadequate approach (2 points ) , and, finally,
a corre ct approach (3 point s ) . As Figure 15 s hows, the re sults
The Deve lopment of Constructive Activity 225

varied . In one , the most gifted pair of twin s , the differences

obs er ved previously had diminished, although the child who had
been in group E continued to build his building with a number of
defec ts, while his partner from group M was perfe ctly able to
cope with the task. In a se cond pair, the earlier differ ences were
still as pronounced as they had been originally. The child who
had been in group M continued to carry out the tasks corre ctly,
wher eas hi s partner from group E, who had completely forgot­
ten the skills he had learned, came up with some totally inade­
quate c onstru ction . The third pair produced no distinctive re sults .

Subject
Subject
Kost. (E)
Kost. (M)

Subject Subject
N. M N. 00
Figure 15. Control constru ctions by twins in
groups M and E li years after practic e .

Similar re sults were obtained when we ran a spe cial series

of control experiments li year s after the practi ce activity; the
purpose of this set of control experiments was to analyze to
what extent the two groups were still able to perceive ge omet­
r i c r elations and cons ciously make a visual analys i s . Again
the most gifted pair of twins, for whom this task was no longer
so compli cated, gave no sign of any notable difference between
them, whe reas the othe r p airs continued to disp lay sharp dif fe r ­
ences (Table 12) .
226 A . R . Luria

Table 12

Voluntary dis crimination Mental rearrangem ent

of figure in uniform field of figures
Experiment Experiment Experiment Experiment
Subje ct 1 2 1 2
Pol . M 85 60 100 100
E 33 10 50 20
Lun . M 50 37 100 40
E 37 25 0 91
Kos t . M 100 90 75 100
E 100 80 62 90

. The fir s t two columns in the table show results obtained in ex­
periments in which a figure was dis criminated against a plain
background. The columns for this group ref er to experiments
in whi ch the subj e cts singled out
figur es mentally on a che cker­

s! •
YiifH
Lun. (M )
Subject
board (first experiment) and from
a complex s tru ctured ba ckground
(se cond exper iment ) .
The last colu mns in the table r e ­
Lun. (E )
f e r t o experiments de signed t o a s ­

p�
sess mobility o f pe r ception and the

w
children ' s ability to shift the posi­
tion of the per ceived figures in
space mentally . The first column
�
8"bj•d
Kost. (M)
,.wt
r efers to transposition of elemen­

Subject tary ge ometric figures (first ex­

Kost. (E) periment ) ; the se cond, to arresting
hand positions (se cond experiment) .
Figure 16. Reproduction One need only to examine thi s
of geometri c relations by table carefully t o see that the dif­
twins in groups E and M ferences in the way groups E and
l� year s after the end of M appr oached thes e problems were
their practice with con­ still quite pronounced, evening out
structive activity. noti c eably only for the third pair
The Deve lopment of Constructive Ac tivity 227

of twins (the most gifted) . Figure 16

gives only two examples illustrating
the differ ences obtained between the
two groups in copying figures involv­
ing complex geometric relations . In
this figure we s ee that these differ ­ Subject
Lun. (E)
ences had vanished f o r the m o s t gifted
pair, whereas for the less intelligent
Subject
pair they re mained distinct in both Lun. (M)
this and m ore complex tasks (Figure 17). Figure 17. Repro­
Thu s , experiments condu cted ti duction of geometric
years after systematic use of deve lop ­ relations by twins in
mental games had been stopped showed groups E and M 1!
that the re sults obtained in those ex­ years after the end
ercises were relatively long lasting of their practice with
and that in our m ain experiment we c onstructive activity.
not only p roduced a sho rt -lived skill
but also c aused a more thorough reorganization of the methods
u s ed in constru ctive activity and for perception in the child.

* * *

The study we have r e viewed was devoted to a psychological

analysis of the proper w �ys to develop the constru ctive activity
of a pr e s chool chil d . In this study, begun by V. I. Kolbanovskii
and A. N. Mirenova and continued by the latter under my direc­
tion, we were able to show how mu ch could be achieved if the con­
stru ctive activity of the child was developed along correct line s .
In contrast t o the methods u sually employed with pres chool
children, which are generally limited to free constru ction or
building from examples, i . e . , pas sive r eproduction of finished
example s with blocks , and do not achieve the required effect,
that is, they do not really develop constru ctive activity, we used
a different method, which we ter med "building from model s . "
The most ess ential psychologically distinctive feature o f this
method is that the child is given a spe cifi c, definite, constru ctive
task to carry out . He has to build a spe cifi c model and has to
228 A. R. Luria

find the ways to do it himself, i.e ., he has to find the constru c­

tive elements from which the model can be built. To do this he
has to transform the direct, spontaneous per ception of the model
into a complex process of visual analysis, to develop his percep- .
tion of geometric relations among these elements, combine them
in his mind, and mentally shift the position of particular figures
relative to one another . By obliging the child to do the se things,
our method was able truly to develop the principal components
of a child's constructive activity.
Our results demonstrate persuasively that our version of con­
structive play is truly developmental in that it achieves radical
changes in the constructive activity of the child and activates
new forms of more complex processes . The effect of play of
. this kind is quite lasting, persisting for some time . There is
every reason to as sume that if the se psychologically designed
kinds of constructive play were introdu ced into pres chool in­
struction, they would bear tangible results in the development
of constructive activity in the preschool child .

Notes

1 ) Detailed results of this study were published in A. N. Mi­

renova & V. N. Kolbanovskii, Tr . Mediko- Biol . Inst . , No . 3 , and
in A . R . Luria & A . N. Mirenova, [Collection of studies on m edi ­
cal genetics, dedicated to Professor S. N. Davidenko ] , and Tr .
Mediko- Genet. Inst., Vol . IV.
2 ) These twins differ from dizygotic twins, Which develop
from two egg cells and are ordinary brothers and sisters born
at the same time . Monozygotic twins are always of the same
sex and look alike . In contrast, dizygotic twins may be of differ­
ent sex and often do not look at all alike . There are a number
of special genetic methods to determine if twins are monozygotic .
3 ) First the children had to copy this drawing from memory,
and then from the real obj ect.
T ranslated by
Michel Vale
0. K . Tikhomirov

THE FORMATION OF VOLUNTARY MOVEMENTS

INCHILDREN OF PRESCHOOL AGE

The development of movements in both phylogenesis and onto ­

genesis is closely coupled with a change in the nature of their
afferentation and thus with a change in the level of regulation.
The specific uniqueness of human voluntary movements lies
in the participation of a verbal system in their construction .
This participation relates to both the afferent and the efferent
components of voluntary movement . The specific stimulus that
evokes voluntary movement is speech, which does not simply
rep lace the direct signal, but facilitates the abstraction and
generalization of direct signals . If elaboration of so-called
voluntary movements in animals requires analysis and synthe­
sis of afferent impulses coming from the working muscles
(Miller, Konorsky, Skipin), then in establishing truly voluntary
movements in human beings it is characteristic for this reverse
proprioceptive afferentation from the completed movements to
be subj ected to analysis and synthesis at the level of the second
signal system with the aid of speech . Only as a result of this
process is it possible for the higher forms of cortical regula­
tion to become "self -regulating"; and only this kind of verbal

From A. R. Luria (Ed. ) Problemi vysshei nervnoi deyatel'

nosti normal 'novo i anormal'novo rebenka [ Problems of higher
nervous activity in normal and abnormal children] . Moscow:
APN RSFSR, 19 58 . Pp . 72 - 13 0 .

229
2 30 0. K . Tikhomirov

participation in the organization of motor behavior makes this

behavior really conscious and voluntary .
It is essential that we ask how such self-regulation is formed
in the child and through what stages it passes .
We began with the fact, established i n the work of T . V .
Yendovitzkaya and N. P . P aramonova, that i n 3 -4 -year -old chil­
dren relatively complex connections in the verbal system can be
established (so that the child can repeat an instruction given to
him), but that these still do not regulate direct action . This is
explained by various age -dependent features of the child 's
neurodynamics: by the diffusene ss of the nervous processes,
which tend to irradiate, which have relatively poor mobility,
etc . Hence, at an early stage the speech a child masters in
c ommunication with an adult still does not regulate the child 's
behavior. As N. P. Paramonova has shown , only continuous
speech reinforcement on the part of the experimenter can guar ­
antee that a 3 -4 -year -old will carry out an instruction correctly .
Our investigation, howe ver, centered on the role of the child's
own external speech in regulating his motor reactions . A word
is a complex stimulus that, like any stimulus , creates an aux­
iliary excitation center and can, by this means , evoke an aux­
iliary motor impulse ; speech also completes a system of con­
nections that have a selective influence . Viewing speech in
this way, we analyz ed the nature and interrelation of these
various influences of the child's own speech at different ages .
To do this we focused only on the simplest form of the child's
speech and tried to show ontogenetic changes in the influence
of spoken words on the regulation of motor respons es .
The experiments consisted of two series . In the first s eries
the subj ect was told to carry out, silently, a movement in ac ­
cordance with a verbal instruction. In the second and more
basic series the subj ect carried out the same movements , ac ­
companying them with speech responses . Then the first s eries
was usually repeated. (!)
In trying to trace the relative role of the various components
of the child' s speech in regulating motor responses we accom­
panied these responses with various kinds of speech.
The Formation of Voluntary Movements 231

In order to determine how well the child could regulate the

execution of motor responses with the aid of voiced speech and
to analyz e the relative role of the various components of ex­
ternal speech in this regulation, we put the child in different
experimental s ettings , giving him different kinds of prepara­
tory instructions .
In the simplest task the child had to squeez e a rubber bulb
each time a signal was presented and to refrain from squeez ­
ing it when there was no signal.
A more complex task was to react differently to two differ­
ent signals : when one signal was given, to squeez e the bulb,
and when another signal was given, not to squeeze it , i.e. , the
instruction set up a simple differentiation between the stimuli.
Finally, to study how well children differentiate successive,
complex, motor responses , we told them to squeez e the bulb
twice in suc cession in accordance with an instruction.
In all these experiments we obtained data showing that
speech has varying influences on the execution of responses ;
thus the organization of motor responses by means of speech
must be based on different mechanisms .
To analyze these mechanisms , which make possible the or­
ganizing of the motor response, we carried out a special group
of experiments that compared the role of speech in organizing
motor responses with nonspeech modes of motor response
organization.
We hypothesized that a child's carrying out a preparatory
spoken instruction is impeded by inadequately differentiated
proprioceptive impulses from the motor responses, which are
needed to form a reverse afferentation . We hypothesiz ed
further that the creation of auxiliary, exteroceptive, reverse
afferentation c ould organize the action and that at this specific
developmental stage the child' s own speech could serve as a
means of auxiliary afferentation.
The data obtained in the experiments to confirm these initial
hypotheses will be presented. in the pres ent artic le . As we
have said, the experiments were conducted in accordance with
the method of preparatory instruction.
 2 32 0. K . Tikhomirov

The stimuli in the experiments were flashing lights of differ­

ent colors located in front of the subj ect . The subj ect ' s motor
response was a squeeze on a rubber bulb with the fingers of
his hand. The motor responses were recorded on a continu­
ously moving paper tape . The apparatus rec orded all the de ­
tails of the motor responses and their relations with the sig­
nals .
The subj ects were preschool children, aged 3 , 4 , or 5 years .
All the children could dis criminate the signals on the basis of
their color . The experiments were conducted individually in
one to six sessions . Each session lasted 15-30 min.

Overcoming the Direct Influenc e of a Stimulus

In most 3 -4-year -old children simple responses to a s ignal,

. which can be evoked with the aid of a preparatory verbal in­
struction, are performed with mistakes , such as s queezing the
bulb not only during the presentations of the s ignals but also
in the inter vals between them. This is presumably explained
by a diffuse irradiation of excitation arising from the stimulus
under the conditions of the experiment.
In experiments by N. P. Paramonova (�) it was shown that
the difficulties in carrying out a preparatory instruction by a
3 -4-year-old child were often overcome by the introduction of
continuous speech reinforcement of the motor respons es . C on­
tinuous speech reinforcement of the child's motor responses
(in the form of an experimenter 's evaluation of the actions )
was presumed to facilitate mastering those neurodynamic dif­
ficulties manifest in the child's carrying out the instruction
incorrectly . These data raised the question of how to analyz e
the role of speech accompaniment of a motor respons e if the
child himself spoke while carrying out the preparatory verbal
instruction, i.e . , the question of the transition from external
regulation of the response by the experimenter to the initial
forms of self-regulation managed by the child himself.
As shown in the work of M . R. Peskovskaya (3 ), 3 - year - old
children manifest a divergence between the execution of motor
The Formation of Voluntary Movements 233

and speech responses to a signal. If in simple motor responses

to a signal a child frequently responds between signals , then
substituting speech respons es for motor ones markedly re­
duces the number of intersignal responses . This is explained
by the great mobility of the child's verbal system at this age .
This mobility of the verbal system can be us ed to organize
motor responses by uniting verbal and motor respons es : with
each presentation of the signal the child says "Squeeze! " or
"Must! " and gives a motor response. This method led to a
sharp decrease in the number of inters ignal motor responses .
Thus , in these experiments it was possible to achieve a con­
c entration of excitation arising from the stimulus with the aid
of the child's own speech.
We repeated these experiments and obtained analogous re­
sults . We shall give here only one illustration. Figure lA
shows a section of the protocol of the experiment with subj ect
Andrei Ch ., age 4 years , who is instruc ted: "Squeeze at the red
light ; but when there's no light, don't squeez e . " But the sub­
j ect continues to squeez e after the signal and between signals
in spite of the frequently repeated instruction. In 44 presenta­
tions of the signal he gives 14 extraneous responses (32%).
But when he says "Squeeze, " the signal meaning of the stimu­
lus , the number of mistakes in the first stage drops sharply;
and then the subj ect generally acts without making any mistakes
(Figure lB) . In the next session he carries out the instruction
silently (Figure lC), and the number of extraneous responses
increases . Thus the diffuse irradiation of the excitation be ­
tween signals is largely overcome with the aid of the subj ect's
own speech .
On the basis of these observations we centered our attention
on the nature of the influence of the child's own speech response
that accompanies and organiz es his motor responses .
We view speech as a complex stimulus having a twofold in­
fluenc e . Speech can have a direct influence by virtue of its
verbalization and a mediating influence by virtue of the system
of selective connections , which is actualiz ed under the influenc e
of speech. These different forms of the influence of speech can
2 34 0. K . Tikhomirov

Figure 1. Andrei Ch ., age 4 years . A. Carrying out the in­

struction "When the red light comes on, squeeze ; and when
there is no light, don't squeez e . " B. The same , with speech
("Squeeze") . C. The same , silently.

be traced on the ontogenetic level and in a system of tasks of

varied difficulty.
In these experiments using simple responses, mastery of the
intersignal motor responses was achieved by the child's saying
each time a word that formulated the signal meaning of the
stimulus ("Squeeze") . But the mere effect of movement regu­
lation by means of this word tells us nothing about the nature
of the word's influenc e, about how this effect is ac hieved.
We hypothesized that for 3 -4 -year -olds the comparatively
simple task of squeezing [ a rubber bulb ] in r esponse to a sig­
nal permits the word "Squeeze" to have not a selective, but a
simpler, impulsive influence , creating an auxiliary center of
excitation that facilitates concentration of the excitation arising
from the stimulus .
The Formation of Voluntary Movements 235

To confirm this hypothesis we modified the experiment s o

that saying the signaling stimulus "Squeez e" or "Must " was
replaced with the syllable "tu" at each signal. * Henc e in this
series of experiments the same instruction was given to the
subj ect as before ("When the light comes on, squeez e; and
when there is no light , don't squeeze"), but the nature of the
verbal accompaniment was different . The subj ect had to pro­
nounce the syllable "tu" at the appearance of the signal and
simultaneously squeez e the bulb.
The results of these experiments showed that in replacing
the utteranc e of the signal meaning of the stimulus with the
pronunciation of a syllable that did not constitute a dir ect sig­
nal stimulus meaning, we obtained the same regulating effect
on the motor response.
Let us take as an example an experiment with Lena F. , age
4 years , 1 month. The s ubject was instructed "When the red
light comes on, squeez e; and when there is no light , don' t
squeez e . " In spite of the fact that the experimenter repeated
the instruction several times , Lena responded in the intervals
between groups of signals (Figure 2A, after 22, 2 5, 29 ) . In 36
signals there were 1 1 inters ignal responses (3 1%) . After this ,
a s eries was carried out in which the subj ect was instructed
to command herself with "tu" at every signal and to squeez e
(she was shown how to do this in advanc e). In this series she
carried out the instruction almost without error (Figure 2B) .
When she later onc e more c arried out the instruction silently,
she again made intersignal motor responses (Figure 2C) . Thus ,
with the aid of "impulsive " speech a child could regulate mo­
tor responses while carrying out an instruction and master
completely or partially the diffuse irradiation of excitation
from the signals .
Let us summarize the results obtained in thes e experiments
on overcoming intersignal motor responses by means of im­
pulsive speech : in 13 of 20 children there was a reduction in
the number of intersignal motor responses in the series in

* "Tu" in Russ ian is a nonsense syllable. - E d.

2 36 0 . K. Tikhomirov

Red
{0 Z2�---,
I
light

51 5J 55 �-�··�, ,-,-5.9.,..., __
, ,5.,t_____,
�r--v- �------, -v-----,r-.r--.r---v--.r-.r--v
Red
light

Red
light

Figure 2 . Lena F., age 4 years, 1 month . A . Carrying out the

instruction "When the red light comes on, squeeze; and when
there is no light , don't squeez e . " B. The same, with speech
( "tu" ) . C. The same, silently .

which movements were accompanied b y speech. Henc e the

data obtained in these experiments confirm our initial hypothe­
sis that, under the described experimental conditions , the
child's speech acts not so much as a system of selective con­
nections but as a means of creating an auxiliary afferent im ­
pulse . The inadequate regulation of the motor responses made
in accordance with the s ingle instruction of this s eries is due
to the as yet undeveloped proprioceptive signalization c oming
from the executed movements . As becomes clear from ques ­
tioning, the children are not aware of the incorrect movements .
Under these conditions a child's speech responses , by creating
a supplementary afferentation of the motor act, which comes
from a more flexible and controllable system, make the act
more controllable and voluntary .
Furthermore, we observed substantial age-dependent and
individual differences among the children. In certain 3 -year -
The Form ation of Voluntary Movements 2 37

olds (usually children with poorly developed speec h and with

perhaps generally r etarded development ) we were generally
unable to carry out the experimental series in which speech
accompanied motor responses because it was impossible to
create a stable system of speech-motor responses . In these
children speech often simply ceased. On the other hand, in
older children - 5-year -olds - the instructions were carried
out right away without mistakes , even silently ; and the inclu­
sion of external speech was superfluous .
Between these two extremes were children who made mis ­
takes while carrying out the instruction silently but whose er­
rors were reduced when an external speech impulse was added.
But even among these children we could observe age-dependent
increments in the effectiveness of the supplementary speech
impulse .
Table 1 presents the average percentage of inters ignal re­
sponses in the series with and without speech accompaniment
for children 3 -4 and 4 - 5 years in age . In this table it is clear
that there is a general tendency for the number of intersignal
respons es to decrease with age, possibly becaus e the nervous
processes are becoming more conc entrated. It is also clear
that relative to 3 -year -olds , 4 -year-olds display better regu­
lation of their responses with the aid of a speech impulse .

Table 1

Experiments with a Simple Response

Intersignal motor responses in carrying out

instructions under various conditions (%)

With impulsive
Silently speech Silently

3 -4 years 71 29 31
4 - 5 years 50 11 17
2 38 0 . K. Tikhomirov

We s et up the basic group of experiments with simple re­

sponses so that after the instruction had been carried out si­
lently, the subj ect immediately had to make motor responses
accompanied by a supplementary speech impuls e. We con­
structed this type of experiment in order to facilitate creation
of a single speech- motor response system .
To ascertain the relevanc e in speech-regulated movements
of purely speech-type responses (as opposed to motor re­
sponses ) , we conducted an additional group of experiments in
which a series with motor res pons es was followed, first, by a
s eries with only speech responses to a signal ("tu! "), and then
by a series with motor and speech responses together .
The results of these additional experiments show that if a
child is told to pronounce the syllable "tu" in response to a sig­
nal, then for almost all children the number of intersignal
speech responses is significantly less than the number of inter ­
signal motor responses . This is presumably explained both by
the great flexibility of the subj ect ' s speech system and by the
different structure of the speech response, the reverse afferen­
tation of which has an exteroceptive aspect. These factors
make it possible to utiliz e the more developed speech responses
as a means of regulating motor respons es . Data from the addi­
tional sess ions are presented in Table 2 . These experiments
also showed that whereas five of six 3 -4-year-olds responded
between signals , only one of six 4 - 5 -year-olds made intersig­
nal responses . This demonstrates the age -dependent develop­
ment of the neurodynamics of the verbal system .
The question arises : Why does a speech accompaniment or­
ganize motor responses ? What is the mechanism of this in­
fluence ? To answer this question let us turn to the latency of
the motor responses . The data indicate that when a child car­
ries out an instruction silently, as a rule the latency of the
motor responses is less than the latency of certain speech re­
sponses to a stimulus . (!) Because of this , in the s eries in
which the motor and speech responses were combined there
was an increase in the latency of the motor responses , often
by one and a half or two times . When the instruction was
The Form ation of Voluntary Movements 2 39

Table 2

Comparis on of Motor and Speech Responses

in Experiments with a Simple Response

Intersignal responses (%)

Motor Speech

3 -4 years 41 10
4 - 5 years 28 1

T able 3

Latencies of Simple Motor and Speech Responses

and of Speech-Motor Responses

Average latency of respons es in carrying out

instructions under various conditions (sec)

Motor Speech Motor -speech Motor

Age responses responses respons es responses

3 -4 years 0.6 1.3 1. 1 0.7

4 - 5 years 0.4 0.9 0.7 0. 5

subsequently carried out silently, the latency again decreased

( Table 3 ) .
In this way movements accompanied by speech are s lowed
down and become, as it were, less impulsive . This speech­
based regulation permits many children to increase the general
tone of inhibition and to master the tendency toward extraneous ,
impulsive , motor responses, a tendency connected with diffuse
irradiation of excitation arising from the stimulus .

* * *
 240 0. K . Tikhomirov

It is ess ential to analyz e how t he child's motor responses

acquire the necessary flexibility under the influenc e of auxil­
iary speech afferentation, how they come to depend on a verbal
instruction and not on the dynamics of the motor act itself or
on a direct signal influence. It is ess ential to analyze as well
how, with age , the movements lose their direct dependence on
a signal and are incorporated into a new system - into the sys ­
tem of speech regulation, by means of which the movements
acquire a truly independent and voluntary nature.
We begin with a conc ept of motor -act structure that distin­
guishes a preparatory afferentation from the signal that evokes
the response. (�_) In established voluntary actions the prepara­
tory afferentation is a system of verbal connections s et up by
. a preparatory instruction, and the direct signal has only an ac ­
tuating influenc e. It is possible, however , that at earlier stages
of development these relations can be quite the reverse : the
traces of the instruction turn out to be too weak and do not form
a preparatory afferentation of the movement, and the direct
stimulus not only actuates but also regulates the movement.
To study these relations we carried out several modifica­
tions of our usual simple-response experiments . To obtain a
simple response to a signal in accordance with a preparatory
instruction we explained and showed a child several times how
to squeez e the rubber bulb . The subj ect was told and shown
that he must squeez e and then immediately release his grip.
Moreover , he was told and shown that he must squeeze only
once in response to each signal. Before beginning the main
experiment, we checked to s ee how the child responded to the
direct order "Squeeze once ." For younger children (age 2-3
years) this task still represented some difficulty; but most of
the children (of age 3 -4 years), after a reinforcing of the in­
struction, responded correctly , i.e . , they squeezed the bulb
and immediately released their grip, and squeez ed it only once ,
as spec ified by the instruction.
We compared the execution of movements required by an
instruction in response to a signal under two s ets of conditions
that differed in principle . In the first case the subj ects were
The Formation of Voluntary Movements 241

presented with comparatively brief signals (1- 1 . 5 sec ) . Under

these conditions the subj ects generally responded as instructed :
Squeez e , and immediately release . It is important to empha­
siz e that the brief duration of the signals provided a favorable
condition for carrying out this kind of movement : the signal' s
appearance evoked the beginning of the motor response , and
the signal' s offset e voked the termination of the squeezing.
Here the influence of the signal, as it were, coincided with the
influence of the instruction.
In the s econd case the very same instruction ("Squeeze the
bulb and imm ediately release it") was carried out under condi­
tions in which, in addition to the short signals , longer signals
(3-4 sec) appeared randomly from time to time. When a long
signal appeared, the subj ect had to terminate his motion before
the end of the direct signal; the influenc e of the signal thus
came into conflict with the requirements of the instruction. It
was shown that under these conditions the motor responses de­
pended greatly on the duration of the signal. With a short sig­
nal the subj ect could easily carry out the instruction to
squeez e and immediately release the bulb ; but with longer sig­
nals carrying out the instruction turned out to be greatly im­
peded; and many subj ects , having squeezed the bulb when the
s ignal appeared, stopped squeezing only when the stimulus
ceased. The motor response acquired a strongly expressed
tonal nature . In all 5-year-olds and in some 3- and 4 -year­
olds this phenomenon ceas ed after several repetitions and
demonstration of the instruction. In some cas es the phenome­
non was stable and did not cease after demonstration and repe­
tition of the instruction. . . . Hence in some cases the instruc ­
tion, not the dir ect signal, defined the nature of the motor re­
spons e . In other cases , with the long signals , the direct sig­
nal (which conflicted with the requirements of the instruction)
defined the nature of the motor respons es .
In a series of other cases the movements ' dependence on
direct s timuli lay in the fact that with the presentation of ex­
tended signals , the movements acquired a rhythmic nature and
sometimes c ontinued after the signal was terminated. Correctly
242 0. K . Tikhomirov

carrying out the order "Squeeze onc e , " a subj ect then given a
long signal would squeez e the bulb several times . In such
cas es the movements are controlled not by the verbal instruc ­
tion, but by the direct signal its elf. Repeated demonstrations
and repetitions of the instruction did not eliminate this phenom ­
enon in many subjects . The stimuli that evoked a wave of dif­
fus e excitation and, so to speak, imparted impulses to the
movement during the duration of their pre sentation turned out to
be a stronger factor than the trace effect of the instruction.
Thus , when a signal conflicts with the requirements of an
instruction, the subj ect ' s difficulties are presumably explained
by the fact that the traces of the verbal instruction do not form
a sufficiently stable afferentation to oppos e the direct influenc e
of the stimulus . If this is so, we should be able to strengthen
the speech afferentation of the motor response by requiring
the subj ect to say a word that will give additional afferentation
and an auxiliary impulse to the movement . To confirm this
hypothesis we conducted a series of experiments in which the
motor respons es were combined with the impulsive speech re­
sponse described above . When the signal was presented, the
subj ect had to pronounce the syllable "tu" and squeez e the
bulb. When this was done, the selective motor response was
broken off by pronunciation of "tu." Hence, in the conflict be­
tween the direct signal and the traces of the verbal instruction,
the instruction was reinforced by pronunciation of the syllable .
It turned out that this method could be used to overcome the
movements ' dependence on the duration of the signal.
Let us consider an experiment with Valya S. (age 4 years ,
4 months ) . She can correctly carry out the instruction "Squeeze
and immediately let go" in response to a direct order and short
signals ; however, upon presentation of longer signals she begins
to assimilate the movement to the signal, and tonal response s
arise (Figure 3A, Nos . 13 - 14) . When the subj ect is again
shown that it is necessary to squeeze, she again correctly car­
ries out the instruction in response to the direct order "Squeeze "
(Figure 3A, after No . 14), but upon presentation of longer sig­
nals, makes tonal responses. After this series is conducted in
The Formation of Voluntary Movements 243

Demon- Squeeze Instruction

A once:

Red
light -,____!_:!__..r-,.
_ __,------,__:.:___,----,_,...,_....:.:___,---,____,-��.r--..,___,---._____:_:_

Figure 3 . Valya S ., age 4 years, 4 month s . A. Carrying out

the instruction "When there is a red light, squeez e and imme­
diately let go. " B. The same, with speech ("tu") . C. The
same, silently.

which the motor responses are combined with impulsive

speech ; when the signal is presented, the subj ect has to say
"tu" and squeeze the bulb. Accompanying the motor responses
with the spoken syllable leads to a change in the nature of the
movement . It no longer depends on the duration of the signal .
In response to both short and long signals the subj ect can cor­
rectly carry out the instruction to squeeze and immediately re­
lease the bulb. This change in nature in clearer in Figure 3B
(Nos . 30-34 , 38-39). Only in isolated cases does the subj ect,
in spite of the speech accompaniment, make tonal respons es
(3 mistakes in 13 signals ). When the instruction is again car ­
r ied out in silence, the number of errors increases markedly
once more, but the instruction is nevertheless carried out bet­
ter than before (Figure 3A) . Thi s experiment shows that with
the aid of a speech impulse it is possible to organize the execu ­
tion o f motor respons es and to overcome their dependence on
the s ignal. We have already mentioned the fact that tonal
244 0. K . Tikhomirov

movement in response to a long signal occurs because the

verbal instruction does not create sufficiently stable afferenta­
tion of the motion; when there is a conflict between the s ignal
and the requirements of the instruction, the signal not only
plays an actuating role but directly energiz es the movement .
Under these conditions the strengthening of the required affer­
entation by pronunciation of the syllables aloud at the instant
of movement has an organizing influenc e on the movement and
makes the movement independent of the stimulus and thus sub­
ordinate to the instruction.
Table 4

Age- Dependent Changes in the Role of Speech

Accompaniments in Overcoming the
Direct Influence of Motor Signals

Mistaken responses to long signals in

carrying out instructions under
various conditions (% )

Silently With speech Silently

3 -4 years 90 49 85
4-5 years 93 33 51

Experiments with a simple response and extended s ignals

show that an auxiliary speech impulse plays a regulatory role
in overcoming the dependence of the movement ' s nature on the
direct signal in all children, to one degree or another . There
are also age-dependent changes in the effectiveness of the
auxiliary speech impulse , as is clear in Table 4 . The average
number of mistakes in a s eries in which the movement is ac ­
companied by speech is reduced from 4 9 % in 3-4 -year- olds to
33 % in 4- 5-year - olds . Subsequent development leads to the
instruction' s being carried out correctly even when it conflicts
with the direct signal.
* * *
The Formation of Voluntary Movements 245

In the simple-response experiments we obtained data on the

organization of motor responses by pronunciation of the signal
meaning of the stimulus (the series on overcoming intersignal
responses ) and by impulsive speech (the series on overcoming
intersignal motor responses and dependence of the movements '
nature on direct signal duration ) . The experiments c larified
the role of the impulsive influence of speech in overcoming the
direct influence of a stimulus on movement , both in the form
of direct assimilation of the movement to the signals and in the
form of its aftereffects (intersignal responses ) . There was ,
however, no comparison of the selective and impulsive influ­
enc es of speech on the regulation of movement . This will be
done in the next series of experiments.

Analysis of the Interrelation of the Impulsive

and the Selective Influences of Speech

In the simple-response experiments we saw that a child's

speech responses can overcome both direct subordination of
movements to a signal and the excitatory irradiation that is
characteristic of the child's neurodynamics . All this took
place only in the cases in which the child's speech acted im­
pulsively .
However , the nature o f speech i s twofold. Speech as a com­
plex stimulus can have a direct and impulsive influenc e, but it
can also actualize a system of selective connections . How is
this latter influence realiz ed in the child ? How are the vari­
ous forms of the influenc e of speech interrelated at various
ages ? In order to answer these questions it was necessary to
s et up an experiment in which the impulsive and the selective
influences of speech could be separated, including conditions
under which they could have directly contrary effects . . . .
In a new s eries of experiments , children had to work out a
system of differentiated responses to the preparatory verbal
instruction "When the red light comes on, squeeze ; and when
the green light comes on, don't squeez e . " This instruction was
repeated by the experimenter several times and was repeated
2 46 0. K. Tikhomirov

by the subj ects . The repetition of the instruction was usually

carried out correctly, although not independently, and in a
questioning form, in fragment s . In the motor responses it
generally turned out that the connection set up in the verbal
system by the preparatory instruction did not completely regu­
late the flow of the motor responses . The excitation in re­
sponse to positive signals was diffuse and broadly irradiated
and led to disinhibition of the differentiation. The subject
squeezed the bulb not only during the positive signals but also
during the inhibitory signals . Thus , the trace influence of the
instruction was clearly inadequate to overcome the diffuse ir­
radiation of the nervous processes , which was manifest in the
disinhibition of differentiation during the presentation of inhibi­
tory signals following a series of positive signals .
We then wondered if it would not be possible to strengthen
the inadequate trace effect of the preparatory verbal instruc ­
tion by pronouncing the signal meaning of the presented stimu­
lus aloud each time . This was done in the following way :
The subj ect was instructed to pronounce its signal meaning
each time the stimulus was presented - to say "Squeeze" or
"Don't squeeze" or simply "Must" or "Must not" and corre­
spondingly to squeez e the bulb or refrain from squeezing it .
Thus , in thes e experiments we wanted to trac e the influence
of pronouncing the signal meaning of the stimulus , i. e . , the
influence of the selective speech connections of the child him ­
self, on the flow of his motor responses in carrying out an
instruction.
In this way we s et up a collision between the selective and
the impulsive influences of the child ' s accompanying speech .
If the words "Must not" influenced selectively, they would c re ­
ate an inhibitory effect; i f they influenced impulsively, they
would evoke a supplementary disinhibition .
The experiments showed that in children aged 3-4 years the
impulsive influence of speech was paramount : a speech ac ­
companiment not only did not decrease but often increased
disinhibition of the differentiation during presentation of an
inhibitory signal.
 The Formation of Voluntary Movements 2 47

Let us examine a specific s ession (with subj ect Lena S . ,

3 years , 9 months ) . In acc ordance with the preparatory verbal
instruction "When the red light comes on, squeez e ; and when
the green light comes on, don' t squeeze" we tried to set up a
differentiation. The subject made motor respons es not only to
the positive signals but also to the inhibitory signals, i.e . ,
there was disinhibition of the differentiation, as is clear in
Figure 4 for presentations of the green light No s . 2 , 4, 6, 8,
and 10.

Red light
lMJ�1�JJ�!LJAM1(Jjt
,!__,.--..__ -����
Green light --- Z 4 6

Instruction
repeated

7.5 %

Red light
JO
�c_r-.,_,----,, ,_, .-----. ,.---
Green light

Figure 4 . Lena S . , 3 years, 9 months . A . Carrying out the

instruction "When the red light comes on, squeeze ; but when
the green light comes on, you must not squeez e . " B. The
same, with speech ("Must, " "Must not" ) .
248 0. K . Tikhomirov

One should note that in a s eries of inhibitory signals pre­

sented after positive signals , the subj ect usually makes an er­
roneous motor response only to the first of the inhibitory sig­
nals (Figure 4, Nos . 2 , 6, and 8) . In Nos . 3 , 7, and 9 in Figure 4,
the differentiation is not disinhibited . This indicates that along
with the irradiation of the excitation we have retention of the
speech traces, which make it possible to overcome this disin­
hibition in the subsequently presented inhibitory signal. Hence
there is a defect here specific ally in the efferent phase. The
question thus arises: Can speech aid in strengthening the in­
hibitory connection ?
To confirm this we conducted a series of experiments with
pronunciation of the signal meaning of the stimulus . It turned
out that in spite of pronunciation of the signal meaning of the
inhibitory stimulus ("Must not"), the subj ect squeezed the bulb
when the inhibitory signal was presented (Figure 4, No . 12) .
On presentation of several inhibitory signals in suc cession, the
subj ect, saying "Must not, " responded erroneously to every in­
hibitory signal (Figure 4, Nos . 12 - 16) .
Thus , during silent carrying out of an instruction dis inhibi­
tion of differentiation oc curs only at the beginning of a s eries
of inhibitory signals ; but in a series in which the signal mean­
ing of the stimulus is pronounced aloud, there is a c ontinuous
disinhibition of the differentiation. After presentation of sig­
nal No. 16, the instruction is repeated; but in the subsequent
presentations of inhibitory signals (Nos . 17-2 1), the differenti­
ation is disinhibited : the subj ect says "Must_ not" but s imul­
taneously squeezes the bulb. After signal No. 2 1 the instruc ­
tion is again repeated, but the inhibition is not extinguished.
After signal No. 26, the instruction is onc e again repeated,
but this does not change the picture (Nos . 2 7 - 2 8 ) . Only with
the repetition of the instruction after stimulus No . 28, i.e.,
after many repetitions of the instruction in a continuous pre ­
s entation o f only inhibitory signals (eight s ignals ) , i s the dif­
ferentiation reestablished. On pres entation of inhibitory sig­
nal No . 29 the subject says "Must not" and, finally, does not
squeeze . The same thing happens on presentation of signals
The Formation of Voluntary Movements 249

Nos . 26-30. After this the positive signal is once again pre­
s ented (No. 30), and the subj ect says "Must" and does not
squeeze in respons e to pres entation of a positive signal. This
also happens in response to signals Nos . 3 1-34 . After repeti­
tion of the instruction, on presentation of positive signals
Nos . 3 5 -36 the subj ect says "Must" and makes a motor re­
sponse ; and then in response to inhibitory signal No. 32 says
"Must not" yet once again makes a motor response.
Thus , in the experiments in which the signal meaning of the
stimulus is pronounced aloud, the words "Must not" evoke a
motor respons e to an inhibitory signal; but with the extinction
of this response the word "Must" also ceases to evoke a motor
respons e to a positive signal. Hence any regulation of motor
responses by the s emantic aspect of the voic ed speech that ac ­
c ompanies the respons es to both stimuli is clearly absent. We
obs erved this abs ence of regulation in most of the children; in
a third of the children the number of errors even increased
when speech accompanied the motor response.
How should we interpret this ? Why does a child saying the
words "Must not" respond with an action that is just the oppo­
s ite of his words (squeeze the bulb); and why when this incor­
rect response extinguishes does he fail to squeeze the bulb
while saying the word "Must , " i. e . , again act contrary to the
meaning of the word ?
Let us analyze the response to the positive signal from the
beginning. On presentation of the positive signal the subj ect
who follows instructions says "Must" and squeezes the bulb .
Like every word, the word "Must" has to be viewed as a com­
plex stimulus that can have both a direct and impulsive influ­
ence and a s elective influence. The selective influence of the
word "Must" is positive - "Must squeez e the bulb"; the im­
pulsive influence of the word is also positive : the verbal re­
sponse is achieved, and creates a corresponding center of ex­
c itation. Thus , the selective and the impulsive influences of
the word here coincide in sign. Because of this we do not know
which aspect of the word produces regulation of the motor re­
sponses to the positive signals .
2 50 0. K. Tikhomirov

This is not at all the cas e with the second half of the instruc­
tion. On presentation of an inhibitory signal the subj ect says
"Must not . " The selective influence of this phras e is inhibi­
tory ("Must not squeez e the bulb"); but, like the first word, it
evokes a center of excitation in the speech part of the cortex,
since the speech response is made and is not delayed. Hence
the selective and the impulsive influences of the words have
opposite signs . They not only do not coincide, as in the first
case, but are in conflict . For this reason we can suppose that
when the child says "Must not" and simultaneously squeezes
the bulb, the words have a regulatory influence on the motor
response not by means of any systematic , selective (inhibitory)
connections , but simply because they serve as a supplementary
center of excitation.
Thus , in 3-4-year -olds in the complex speech responses
"Must not ," in which there is a conflict between the selective
and the impulsive influences of the words , the stronger com­
ponent is more often the direct and impuls ive influenc e of
speech, which regulates the flow of the motor responses , pro­
ducing disinhibition of the differentiation in spite of the mean­
ing of the words . In cases of stable disinhibition of differenti­
ation under the influence of the words "Must not , " by means
of many repetitions during continuous presentation of inhibi­
tory signals , we could achieve a situation in which the subj ect,
pronouncing these words , did not squeeze the bulb, i.e . , in
spite of the positive, impulsive influence of the verbal response,
the subj ect made an inhibitory motor respons e . In this case
the response was formed as a result of direct reinforcement
of the inhibitory process, and was not under the influence of
the selective effect of the words . In subsequent presentations
of the positive signal, the subject said "Must" but still did not
squeeze the bulb, i.e. , he made an inhibitory motor response
contrary to the speech response . Here , as well, the direct,
impulsive influence of the word predominates . On the whole ,
the data from the experiments attempting to regulate a system
of differentiated responses by means of pronouncing the signal
meaning of stimuli show that, in a majority of 3 -year-olds and
The Formation of Voluntary Movements 251

in half of the 4-year-olds , the number of mistakes increas es

in the series in which the motor respons es are accompanied
by speech.
The fact that when there is a conflict between the selective
and the impulsive influences of a word the regulation of motor
respons es is effected by the latter aspect of the word indicates
that in 3 -4 -year -olds the nonspecific influence of speech (in
the experiments with simple differentiation) dominates under
these conditions . This is presumably connected with the fact
that there is an as yet inadequate differentiation of the word' s
specific aspect - its meaning . The verbal system does not
dominate the system of selective connections .
We have described the inhibitory influence of the words
"Must not" in the experiments with simple differentiation.
There are, however , difficulties other than those we described.
A s econd difficulty lay in uttering the words "Must " and "Must
not" and in combining them with the movements . In several of
the childr en , usually 3 -year -olds , we obs erved difficulties in
combining the speech and motor responses into a system and
in switching over from one type of speech response to the other .
These obser vations demand spec ial and more careful analys is .
Only in se veral, usually older , subj ects did we observe par ­
tial regulation of motor respons es with the aid of pronunciation
of the signal meaning of the pres ented stimuli. We shall return
to these findings at the end of the pr esent section.

* * *

In the simple differentiation experiments , di sinhibition of the

differentiation in the pronouncing series is explained by the
direct, impulsive influence of the speech accompanying the in­
hibitory respons e. Hence it is logical to ask how an instruction
will be carried out if there is a "reduction" of this conflict.
In order to eliminate the conflict between the selective and the
impulsive influences of the speech response "Must not , " we
s et up the following experiment : The subj ect was told that on
presentation of a positive signal he must say the word "Must"
2 52 0. K . Tikhomirov

and squeez e the bulb, and on pres entation of an inhibitory sig­

nal he must remain silent and not squeeze the bulb. In this
way conflict in the speech response was eliminated : to the
positive signal the subj ect responded verbally and squeez ed
the bulb (in other words , a positive motor response corre­
sponded to a positive articulation), and to an inhibitory signal
there was no speech response and the motor response was in­
hibited. It turned out that this produced a dramatic improve­
ment in carrying out the instruction.
Let us consider an experiment with Gena P. (age 3 years,
7 months ) . The subj ect was given the preparatory spoken in­
s truction "When the red light comes on, squeeze the bulb ; but
when the green light comes on, you must not squeez e the bulb."
'!'his instruction often produced disinhibition of the differenti­
ation during presentation of an inhibitory s ignal following posi­
tive signals (Figure 5, Nos . 1 1, 13, 14, 16 - presentations of
green light ) .
After this w e conducted a series i n which the speech and
motor respons es were brought together , i.e. , in which the sub­
j ect pronounced the signal meaning of the stimulus ("Must
not," "Must"). Now the subject, pronouncing the corresponding
part of the instruction, had either to squeeze the bulb or els e
refrain from squeezing it . It is clear from the figure that the
experiment did not give the desired results . The subj ect, al­
though saying "Must not" on pre.sentation of an inhibitory sig­
nal, nevertheless s imultaneous ly squeezed the bulb {F:i,gure 5B,
Nos . 25 -30, 3 1-36). Thus , pronouncing the signal meaning of
the stimuli leads no longer to isolated mistakes , as in series
A, but to continuous disinhibition of the differentiation. This
disinhibition is stable and is not extinguished by many repeti­
tions of the instruction (Figure 5, after Nos . 27, 30, 3 1) . We are
dealing here with the same situation that we spoke about above :
the words "Must not" act as a supplementary impulse and
evoke, in spite of their meaning, a continuous disinhibition of
the differentiation.
We then conducted a s eries in which the subj ect was told to
pronounce the signal meaning only of the positive stimulus and
 The Formation of Voluntary Movements 2 53

Red light
Green light -----< ,..----, �--�

Instruction
repeated

LJ--------------�----,c;r.-----..._,-..-.:.r-\-T"-
Red light
Green light ___ "

c I

Figure 5 . Gena P ., 3 years, 7 months . A. Carrying out the

instruction "When the red light comes on, squeeze; but when
the green light comes on, you must not squeeze." B. The
same, with speech ( " Must, " "Must not"). C. The same, with
the inhibitory link ("Must" . . . ) being pass ed over in silenc e .
D . The same, silently.

to remain s ilent when the negative stimulus was presented. It

turned out that under these conditions disinhibition of the differ ­
entiation o n presentation o f an inhibitory signal following posi ­
tive signals was almost completely extinguished. In Figure 5C
it is c lear that on presentation of [ positive ] signals Nos . 66 -84
the subject, saying "Must ," squeezed the bulb and, on presenta-
2 54 O. K. Tikhomirov

tion of [negative] s ignals Nos . 37-44 , remained silent and did

not squeeze the bulb. In 12 signals there was only 1 error
(8 %). After this , the instruction was again carried out silently,
and again there was dis inhibition of the differentiation (Figure
5D, Nos . 52 - 55) .
Thus , comparing the results of series A , C, and D, we see
that carrying out the instruction is disrupted because of the
weakness of the trace influence of the verbal connections and
that reinforcement with the aid of pronunciation (series D) im­
proves carrying out the instruction and leads to regulation of
the motor responses . However, a comparison of s eries B and
C shows that such regulation is extremely limited, because it
is realiz ed only under conditions in which the actualized aspect
of the speech response coincides in sign with the motor re­
spons e : to a positive signal a speech and a motor response are
made ; to an inhibitory signal both the speec h and the motor re­
sponse are inhibited.
These observations confirm the hypotheses that the influence
of speech still has here a relatively simple nature and that
speech acts primarily as a supplementary impulse regulating
the flow of the respons es .

* * *

If motor-respons e regulation in the process of establishing

a differentiation on the basis of a preparatory instruction is
achieved only when the meaning of the sign "Must" coincides
with its direct and impuls ive influence, the question then arises
as to which aspect of the word "Must" actually achieves this
regulation: Is it the system of selective connections underlying
the word, or is it a supplementary impulse connected with the
word's pronunciation ? Perhaps there is essentially no mean­
ing, in general, of the pronounced word apart from the fact of
its pronunciation.
To answer this question we made a s eries of observations .
The subject was told to pronounce the nonsense syllable "tu"
and to squeeze the bulb when the positive s ignal was presented
The Formation of Voluntary Movements 2 55

and to refrain from both motor and voic ed respons es on pre­

s entation of inhibitory signals . We conditionally called such
speech "impuls ive" speech. In this way this series analyzed
the nature of the influence of a conditioned speech impulse on
the flow of the motor respons es in isolation from the pronunc i­
ation of the signal meaning of the stimuli, as in the previous
series . We assumed that under these conditions we could uti­
lize the supplementary speec h impulse as a means of regulat­
ing the motor responses . . . . We found that 20 children aged
3 - 5 years , in carrying out the instruction, had an average of
4 5 % mistakes (respons es to the inhibitory signal) ; but for
speech alone the average was only 4 % . This is explained by
the great mobility of the verbal system and by differenc es be­
tween the structure of the speech and the motor responses
(see P . 2 38) . As the experiments showed, the more integrated
impuls es from speech responses could be suc cessfully used
as a means of regulating the child's movements .
Let us consider an experiment with Larisa T. (age 3 years,
8 months ) . A simple differentiation was established on the
basis of the preparatory spoken instruction "When the red
light comes on, squeeze ; but when the green light comes on,
you must not squeez e . " Although she squeezed the bulb on
presentation of a positive signal, in several cases the subj ect
also squeez ed mistakenly on presentation of the negative sig­
nal (Figure 6A, Nos . 12, 19, 2 1 to green light) .
Then the subj ect was told to say "tu" and to squeeze when
the positive signal appeared and on pres entation of the inhibi­
tory signal to remain silent and not to squeez e . In this s eries
the instruction was carried out almost without error (Figure 6B) .
When the instruction was again carried out silently, dis inhibi­
tion of the differentiation- occurred once more (Figure 6B,
Nos . 42, 52, 54, 56) .
Thus, with the aid of a simplified speech (even "voic ed")
impulse of what was to be done on presentation of positive sig­
nals we were able to achieve an almost error-free execution
of an instruction, something that was quite impossible when
it was carried out silently. How are we to interpret this finding ?
2 56 0. K. Tikhomirov

29!

Figure 6 . Larisa T ., age 3 years, 8 months . A. Carrying out

the instruction "When the red light comes on, squeeze ; but
when the green light comes on, you must not squeeze. " B. The same,
with speech at the positive signal ("tu ") . C. The same, silently.

The instruction, which sets up verbal connections , creates

preparatory afferentation of the movement, as a result of
which the red light evokes a motor response and the green
light evokes an inhibition of movement. But the s ituation is
quite different in cases in which the verbal connection, closed
by a preparatory instruction, is stable enough to oppose the
diffuse irradiation of excitation arising from the stimulus ,
manifest in disinhibition of the differentiation, and in which it
can thus make the excitation process selective. In our subj ects
the memory traces of the verbal connections produced by the
preparatory instruction frequently were weak, did not r estrain
the diffus e irradiation of excitation, and did not provide affer­
entation of the motor act .
Under thes e conditions the voiced impulse "tu," which i s ut­
tered in response to a positive signal and not uttered in re-
The Formation of Voluntary Movements 2 57

spons e to a negative one, strengthens the speech afferentation

of the motor responses . We should emphasiz e that the supple­
m entary speech impulse is selective : it is made only in re­
sponse to the positive signal. Such selectivity of the impulse
is facilitated both by the generally greater mobility of the
neurodynamics of speech and by the fact that with regard to
the subject's speech response, there is no continuously acting
stimulus such as those coming from the bulb in the subj ect ' s
hand. In this way , using a supplementary signal and the re­
verse afferentation that arises from it, we were able to achieve
improved execution of the prior instruction.
Consequently, in the experiments involving pronunciation of
the signal meaning of only the positive stimulus ("Must" ) , the
regulatory influenc e on motor responses was realiz ed not so
much by the system of selective connections underlying the
word as by the supplementary speech impulse that created
auxiliary afferentation. Moreover , these findings are relevant
to understanding the mechanism of the nonspecific speech in­
fluenc e in the pronunciation experiments . Specifically, the
mere utterance of the words "Must not" creates an impulse
toward movement in spite of their inhibitory meaning.
Let us summariz e the data obtained in the experiments on
regulating movement by means of a supplementary voice im ­
pulse (Table 5 ) . We observe regulation of responses in 29 of
3 0 children, although it is expressed differently in different
children . The regulation is expressed as a reduction in the
number of mistakes in the series involving combining the re­
sponses. In this case there were usually two types of mis ­
takes : the first was disinhibition o f speech responses , i . e . , on
presentation of an inhibitory s ignal, the child said "tu" and
squeez ed the bulb ; the second type of error occurred when the
child retained a differentiated system of voiced responses but
nevertheless inhibited his motor responses . Although speech
responses occurred without error in a majority of children
(2 5 of 3 9 ) , combining these responses with movements in­
creased the number of errors in the speech responses them­
selves (these errors occurred in 14 of 19 children) .
2 58 0. K . Tikhomirov

Table 5

Experiments with Simple Differentiation. Regulation of

Respons es by the Impulsive Influence of Speech

Responses to an inhibitory signal in various

series of experiments ( % )

Motor and
Single Single speech Single
motor speech responses motor
responses responses combined responses

3-4 years 47 4 20 34
. 4 - 5 years 58 2 25 60

Analysis of the data shows that with increasing age there is

a change in the number of cases in which motor inhibition is
connected with speech inhibition on presentation of an inhibi­
tory signal. In 3 -4 -year-olds an average of 47 % of the total
number of cases of motor inhibition coincides with speech in­
hibition, whereas in 4 - 5 -year -olds the proportion of such
cases is down to 25 % . These data indicate an age-related
change in the stability of speech responses .
Thus , in several children 3-4 years of age we observed a
sharp difference between the influence of s emantic and impul­
sive speech. Uttering the signal meaning of the stimulus only
inc reases disinhibition of the differentiation, owing to the fact
that the words "Must not" do not act selectively, but impul­
sively ; accompanying positive responses with impulsive speech
and remaining silent for the inhibitory signals creates the
necessary auxiliary afferentation of the movement and dra­
matically improves the execution of the instruction.
* * *

A question remains , however, as to the mechanism by which

the auxiliary speech impulse exerts its influenc e .
The Formation of Voluntary Movements 2 59

In order to achieve an understanding of this regulation, we

compared the latency of the positive responses . It turned out
that the latency of the motor response to positive signals was
less than that of the impulsive speech response. In the 4 - 5 -
year -olds , * when the motor and speech respons es were com­
bined there was usually an inc rease in the latency of the for­
mer ; but when the instruction was once again carried out si­
lently, there was a decrease in the latency of the motor re­
spons es to the positive signal. This is shown in the data in
Table 6 .

Table 6

Experiments with Simple Differentiation. Changes in

the Latency of Motor Responses Combined with Speech

Latency of motor and speech-motor responses

on pres entation of positive signals (sec )

Motor and
Single speech Single
motor Speech responses motor
responses responses combined responses

3 -4 years 0.5 1 .0 0.3 0.6

4 - 5 years 0.4 1.0 0.6 0.6

We can conc lude that the regulatory role of the auxiliary

speech responses that accompany the motor responses amounts
to a reduction in the impulsiveness of the movements, to a
certain restraining or inhibiting of the motor respons e that re­
sults in a reduction of the disinhibition of the differentiation as
the child attempts to carry out a preparatory verbal instru_ction.
* * *
* Added by author in a personal communication to the editor
(1975).
260 0. K. Tikhomirov

The experiments in which the signal meaning of every stimu­

lus was spoken aloud in association with differential motor re­
spons es have shown the predominance of the impulsive influence
of the word. . . . However , one ought not to c onc lude that dis in­
hibition when speech accompanies the motor response implies
speech has absolutely no selective influenc e .
In several children about 4 years old we encountered a para­
dox : dis inhibition of the differentiation, which was observed in
the preliminary silent execution of the instruction and which
sharply inc reased when the movements were coupled with
speech respons es to every signal ("Must" or "Must not" ) , was
suddenly and completely extinguished when the instruction was
again carried out silently in the subsequent series of experi­
ments . An analysis of the latency of the incorrect responses
to an inhibitory signal in this series of experiments s hows that
all the mistakes in carrying out the instruction silently share
one feature : their latencies are relatively short (0. 5 - 0 . 6 sec ) .
These are, s o to speak, premature, impulsive responses of the
child. These mistakes are quite different from thos e in the
s eries with combined movement and speec h, which are inhibited
under the influence of the speech impulse of the motor re­
sponses . These disinhibited responses have a latency of two
to three times greater than that of the impulsive responses
(1.7-2 . 0 s ec ) and roughly coincide with the latency of the
s peech response itself.
It turns out that the nature of the mistakes in the series com­
bining responses is directly connected with how the instruction
is carried out silently when the pronunciation of word(s) is
eliminated. If the pronunciation s eries has mistakes of disin­
hibition only under the influence of speech and the impulsive
responses are extinguished, then the instruction in the subse­
quent series will be carried out correctly. If in the same pro­
nunciation series there are , in addition to inhibition errors ,
impulsive sque·ezings (with short latencies ) , then e ven after
verbalization has been eliminated, the instruction will still be
carried out with many errors (Table 7 ) .
In the first case we have this picture: The predomi-
The Formation of Voluntary Movements 261

Table 7

Hidden Influence of Pronunciation in Simple Differentiation

Experiments . Dependence of an Instruction' s Execution
on the Nature of Mistakes When a Verbal Response
Accompanies Movement

Subjects Indicators Experimental series

With
Silently speech Silently

Serezha O. Disinhibited
(4 years, 6 responses (%) 43 80 0
months )
Latency (sec ) 0.5 1.6

Serezha K. Disinhibited
(4 years) responses (%) 37 77 66
Latency (sec) 0.6 0.6 2.0 0.6

nance of the impulsive influence of speech leads to an inc rease

in the total number of mistakes in the s eries in which the re­
sponses are combined. The verbalization, however , facilitates
strengthening of the s elective connections thanks to which the
impulsive motor responses to the bulb are extinguished. The
effect of strengthening these connections is also expressed
when there is no more verbalization : the impulsive squeezings
do not aris e . E liminating verbalization leads to extinction of
the disinhibition errors that arise from speech. In short, the
instruction is carried out c orrectly.
Thus, already in 4-year-olds we observe a selective influence
of the spoken word, but it is still masked by the predominant,
impulsive influence and is expressed only as an afteraffect of
the utteranc e .

* * *
2 62 0. K. Tikhomirov

In analyzing the data from the experiments with 3- and 4 -

year-olds we have shown that it is possible t o ac hie ve regula­
tion of motor responses by using the simple impulsive influ­
ence of speech. However , such regulation by means of the
system of selective connections ener giz ed by speech is quite
often impeded, especially when it conflicts with the impulsive
influence of speech. Furthermore, with some 4-year -olds the
number of mistakes is reduced by uttering the signal meaning
of the stimuli "Must" or "Must not . " It is natural to assume
that in still older children, uttering the signal meaning of two
stimuli will produce a clear effect of motor-respons e regula­
tion, i. e . , the direct and impulsive influence of speech will no
longer predominate; and instead the system of s elective con-
. nections that are energized under the influence of speech will
predominate. To analyz e this question the experiments with
simple differentiation we des cribed above were carried out
with 5-year-olds .
The experiments showed that the instruction to make differ­
ential responses to different signals was more easily mastered
by 5-year-olds ; the traces of this instruction were more stable ;
and, under the usual conditions (moderate rate, long signals ),
they were able to regulate motor responses in a sufficiently
stable way. With 3- and 4-year -olds we had only to accelerate
the rate of signal pres entation (intervals of 2 -3 sec) to increase
the number of disinhibited differentiations . With 5 -year-olds
this could be done only by combining a rapid rate of signal pre­
s entation with a reduction in the duration of the signals them ­
s elves (to 0. 5-0. 75 sec ) . Hence, with age a narrowing in the
zone of difficulty for carrying out the same instruction occurs .
However , we are interested primarily in the nature of the
influence of the child's own speech in overcoming difficulties
in carrying out motor responses guided by a preparatory in­
struction.
It turned out that, under these conditions , in 5 -year -olds
speech has already begun to play a specific role and that even
when there is a conflict between its impulsive and selective
influences, speech continues actively to regulate motor responses.
The Form ation of Voluntary Movements 263

Let us take as an example the experiment with Natasha K.

(age 5 years , 10 months ) . She is given the instruction "When
the green light comes on, squeeze the bulb ; but when the red
light comes on, you must not squeeze . "

36

Figure 7. Natasha K ., 5 years, 10 months . A. Carrying out

the instruction "When the green light comes on, squeeze ; but
when the red light comes on, you must not squeeze . " B. Speech
responses to the signals ("Must," "Must not"). C. Combining
speech and motor responses . D. The same, silently.

The instruction is correctly repeated and carried out. How­

ever , when the rate of presentation is accelerated and the dura­
tion of the signals is s hortened, mistakes resulting from disin­
hibition of the differentiation occur. Hence in Figure 7A we see
that the subj ect responds incorrectly to signals Nos . 5, 44, 45 ,
47, 50, and 52. To the 30 inhibitory signals she m'akes 15
264 0. K. Tikhomirov

mistakes (50%) . Furthermore, replacing the motor respons es

with speech responses reveals a greater preservation of the
speech ones . Combining the movements with speech leads to
a sharp reduction in the number of mistakes (Figure 7C ) . In re ­
sponse to 21 inhibitory signals there are only 2 mistakes (10%).
In subsequent silent execution of the instruction the number of
mistakes again increases (to 25%).
Thus, pronunciation of the words "Must not" in response to
an inhibitory signal leads to a result that is quite the opposite
of that we observed in 3 -year-olds . In spite of the conflicting
nature of the speech response "Must not," in spite of the im ­
pulsive disinhibitory influence of this verbal response , we s ee
in operation here the system of selective connections under -
. lying speech, which by this time has become sufficiently stable
to allow effective regulation of motor responses .
Certain data from these experiments point to a mechanism
for this regulation. Comparative analysis of the latency of
speech and motor responses to a positive signal indicates that
the average latency of speech responses is always greater (by
1�-2 times) than the average latency of motor responses . Ad­
dition of speech to motor responses to a positive signal leads
to their retardation, to an increase in the latency of the motor
response; the movements now begin to flow, as it were, under
an increased tonus of the inhibitory process, which reduc es
the disinhibition of differentiation. At least in some cases, un­
der the influence of the accompanying speech there is a de­
crease in the variance of the latency of the motor responses
(by a factor of two or more). E ven with a very crude recording
of a very excited child we could observe a decrease in the vari­
ance of the amplitude of motor respons es to a positive signal
(Table 8). This decrease in the variance of the amplitude of
motor responses and in latencies presumably indicates that
under the influence of speech, there is a concentration of the
nervous processes in which the regulatory influence of speech
is manifest and which leads to a reduction in the number of
cases of disinhibition of the differentiation.
Thus with children 5-7 years of age, under conditions in
The Form ation of Voluntary Movements 265

Table 8

A Simple Differentiation Experiment

(Natasha K. , 5 years , 10 months) .
The Regulatory Role of Verbal Responses
Accompanying Motor Respons es

Mistaken re­ Motor responses to

sponses to an a positive signal
Experimental inhibitory Latency Amplitude
s eries signal (%) AM* V* V

Silently 50 0.4 13 15
With speech 10 0.5 7.5 6

*AM - average latency of the motor response (sec) .

V - coefficient o f variance (%) .

which connections set up by an instruction do not completely

regulate the flow of motor responses , it is possible to strength­
en this regulation by ac companying each motor response with
a speech response . In the accompanying wor ds ("Must not")
the dominant aspect is no longer the impulsive influence but,
instead, the s elective and s emantic influence .
The data from simple differentiation experiments with 5 -
year -olds indicate that nearly all children experience , though
in differing degrees , a reduction in dis inhibition of differenti­
ation under the influenc e of pronouncing the signal meaning of
the stimuli "Must," "Must not." These data indicate the pres ­
ence in 5-year -olds , in the given experimental situation, of a
s elective, re gulatory influenc e of speech.
In Table 9 we summarize the dynamics of the age-dependent
c hanges in the influenc e of saying "Must not" to the inhibitory
stimulus . This table gives the average number of mistakes
(as a percentage) in three basic s eries of experiments with
children 3, 4 , and 5 years old. In 3-year-olds verbalizing the
meaning of the stimulus only decreases the differentiation,
2 66 0. K. Tikhomirov

Table 9

Age-Related Changes in the Role of Pronouncing

the Signal Meaning of Two Stimuli in
Experiments with Simple Differentiation

Responses to an
inhibitory signal in carrying out an
instruction under various
conditions (%)
Number of Age
children (years) Silently With speech Silently

10 3-4 40 60 37
10 4-5 56 52 42
10 5-6 57 30 38

which is explained, as we said above, by the impulsive influ­

ence of speech; in 5-year -olds oral speech reduces the disin­
hibition, because of the selective influence of speech.
Having established the existence of a selective influence of
accompanying speech in older preschoolers, we proceeded to
analyze the degree to which this accompanying speech neces ­
sarily participates [in the respons es ] . Perhaps it is sufficient
merely to reinforce the connection between the corr es ponding
speech responses and the signal in order to strengthen the in­
structions having regulatory influence so that this influence
becomes adequate for regulating movements without the child ' s
having to respond verbally each time. To confirm this hypoth­
esis we returned once again, after a series of experiments
with several speech responses, to investigating s everal motor
responses and then to combining them with speech.
It turned out that with older children (age 8 - 1 1 years), under
the conditions of a simple differentiation (with positive signals )
and when a considerable number of mistakes had been made,
only one instance of the speech responses ("Must," "Must not")
led to a sharp reduction in disinhibition of the motor response
The Formation of Voluntary Movements 267

(Table 10) . This phenomenon is quite weakly expressed when

conditions have been made more difficult because of short sig­
nals, and the regulation then obtained is achieved only by ac­
companying the motor respons es with speech each time.

Table 10

Influence of Practicing Speech Responses

on Subsequent Motor Responses

Dis inhibitions of differentiation in

various experiments (%)

Before After Combining

practicing practicing motor and
Number of speech speech speech
children responses responses respons es

8 48 22 9

Carrying out a preparatory spoken instruction requires that

at least two conditions be met : a stable connection is neces ­
sary, first, between the stimuli and the words that form the
s ignal meaning of these stimuli and, s econd, between those
words and the corresponding movements . When these two
conditions have been met, the instruction can be carried out :
every stimulus, being mediated by the verbal connection of
inner speech, evokes the required response. The speech re­
sponse's preparatory role is evident in the fact that under
relatively simple conditions, the connection "word-movement''
is already stable in older preschoolers . Thus, when the speech
responses are practiced, we observe a direct projection into
motor responses; but the connection "signal-word" is still in­
sufficiently reinforced, so that a single repetition of the pre­
paratory instruction is inadequate. Saying the words "Must"
or "Must not" aloud when the signal is presented is required
to reinforce the signal meaning of the stimuli. From speech
 268 0. K. Tikhomirov

that accompanies movement the child moves on to speech that

precedes movement .
From the results of experiments in establishing a s imple
differentiation guided by a preparatory instruction we can draw
s everal conclusions . In these experiments the essential fea­
ture is analysis of the interrelation of the impulsive and the
s elective influences of speech. It turns out that this interrela­
tion changes with age and passes through a s eries of stages .
In the first stage, which applies basically to very young chil­
dren and occasionally to 3 - year -olds, there is no regulatory
influence of the connections underlying the word; the impulsive
influence of the word is dominant . Regulation of positive motor
responses by a speech impulse is hindered by difficulty in ere-
. ating a system of speech-motor responses . In the s econd
stage, i.e., in 3 -4 -year-olds, a clear regulation of motor re­
sponses is formed with the aid of an auxiliary speech impulse.
Words, which form the signal meaning of the stimulus, act not
selectively, but impuls ively, and hence regulate motor re­
sponses only when the impulsive and the s elective influences
are of the same sign. When they are of opposite sign, the im ­
pulsive influence of the words dominates; and for this reason
adding the response "Must not" to an inhibitory signal leads
to disinhibition of a delayed motor response .
In the third stage, i . e . , in 5-year-olds, movement regulation
is effected by a system of selective connections activated by
words . Even when the impulsive and the s elective influences
of words conflict, the specifically selective influence predomi­
nates, which organizes the realization of motor responses in
carrying out an instruction.
Subsequent development presumably consists of an ever­
increasing s elective influence of speech, no longer as external
speech, but in the form of inner speech or traces of connections
established according to the preparatory instruction that have
become so stable that it is unnecessary to use external speech . . . .
Notes
1) This methodological principle was presented in the
The Formation of Voluntary Movements 269

article by E . D . Homskaya, [The role of speech in the com ­

pensation o f disturbed motor reactions ] . [Problems of the
higher nervous activity of normal and abnormal children ] .
Vo l. 1 . Moscow : APN RSFSR, 1956 .
2 ) N. P . P aramonova, [On the formation of mutually acting
signal systems in the child ] . [Problems of the higher ner­
vous activity of normal and abnormal chi ldren ] . Vol. 1.
Moscow : APN RSFSR, 1956 .
3) See the article by A. R. Luria, [The role of speech in the
formation of voluntary movement ] . [Materials of a conference
on psychology ] . Moscow : APN RSFSR, 19 57.
4) We conducted experiments, with V. Rozanova, in which
we analyzed the latencies of speech responses. See V . Roza­
nova, [The study of motor and speech responses in preschool
children]. Department of Psychology, Moscow University,
19 57.
5) See [Problems of higher nervous activity ] . Moscow :
USSR Academy of Sciences, 1949 .
 PART THREE

Neuropsychology
A . R . Luria

L . S . VYGOTSKY AND THE PROBLEM

OF FUNCTIONAL LOCALIZATION

Forty years ago, in the mid-192 0s, a young Soviet psycholo­

gist, still under thirty, came to the C linic of Nervous Diseases,
at first to observe, later to conduct his own independent re­
search . His name was L. S . Vygotsky .
Unlike many others, including Professor G. I. Rossolimo, the
director of the clinic, he had not come to conduct psychological
tests for perfecting diagnoses of brain diseases . His task was
incomparably greater: he saw the analysis of local brain infec­
tions as a basic means of solving fundamental questions of the
structure of mental processes and of the material substratum
of complex forms of mental activity . Some years later he wrote :
"It seems to me that the problem of localization, like a common
channel, includes examination of both the development and the
di sintegration of higher mental functions . " Thi s was in a lec­
ture he read six weeks before his death : "The problem of the
development and disintegration of higher mental functions "
( Problema razvitiya i raspada vysshikh psikhicheskikh funktziy .
In L . S. Vygotsky, Razvitiye vysshikh psikhicheskikh funktziy
[Development of higher mental functions ] . Moscow: APN
RSFSR, 1960. P . 383) .
Vygotsky approached the problem of localizing mental func­
tions from a well thought out, innovative viewpoint, which from

From Voprosy psikhologii, 1966, �(6), 55-61.

2 73
2 74 A. R. Luria

the outset was opposed to the basic psychological and neurolog­

ical tenets of the time .
Psychology in the 1920s was dominated by the idea that human
mental life was a complex of "functions " or "properties" com ­
mon to man and animals . Leading psychologists of the time re­
garded sensations and perceptions, attention and memory, judg­
ment and deduction, emotions and voluntary actions as natural
manifestations of the working of the nervous system, or at best
as processes with a reflex structure whose mechanisms were
carefully studied in the conditioned reflex activity of animals .
This came only shortly after the period of domination of dual­
ism, when the crucial question for psychology had been whether
mental and physiological phenomena were "parallel" or "inter ­
active . " Therefore, the naturalistic approach to mental phe­
nomena, which had been the point of departure for both German
Gestalt psychology and American behaviorism, not only was ap­
proved but even endorsed by the most progressive wing in psy ­
chology .
Naturally enough, however, after succ essfully solving a num­
ber of important questions of the mechanisms of elementary
mental processes (sensations and the simplest forms of percep­
tion, involuntary attention, and spontaneous memory), the "natu ­
ralist" psychologists could not begin to approach questions of
the mechanisms that underlay specifically human higher mental
functions . How can one understand the mechanism of a volun­
tary act? What are the characteristic ways in which voluntary
attention and active memory work ? How can one approach sci­
entific analysis of abstract forms of thought that allow man to
penetrate the deepest connections of reality ? At the time an
attempt was made to answer all these questions by idealistic
"descriptive psychology" - understood as the "science of the
spirit [dukh ]"- which took up these questions while rejecting
their genuinely scientific, materialist analysis .
Our young Soviet psychologist's point of departure differed
radically from these views .
In Vygotsky 's view, higher mental functions, which the natu­
ralistic school had refused to study, must not be just the sub-
Vygotsky and Functional Localization 275

j ect of causal analysis: such an analysis must b e the basic task

of scientific psychology . To retain the natural scientific ap ­
proach and rej ect this examination would mean to arrest scien­
tific progress and direct it along false lines . The spiritualist
psychological approach is just as unacceptable, however : to re­
tain the question of higher forms of consciousness and will but
rej ect scientific analysis of the genesis of these phenomena
would be to substitute fideistic philosophy for science .
Vygotsky saw the way out of "the historical crisis of psychol­
ogy"* in a radical reappraisal of basic psychological concepts .
"Higher mental functions " must have an origin; but this origin
must not be sought in the depths of the spirit or in hidden prop­
erties of nervous tissue : it must be sought outside the individ­
ual human organism in obj ective social history . In forming so -
ciety and using tools, man created new, indirect forms of rela­
tionship to the external world to which he had formerly accom­
modated himself and which he now controlled . The formation of
language during the process of social development provided him
not only with a new, previously unknown method of communica­
tion but also with a new tool for ordering his mental processes .
The higher mental functions that originated in social labor and
speech enabled man to rise to a new level of organization in his
activity . By adapting the methods created for verbal communi­
cation to his own needs, he developed forms of intelligent per­
ception, voluntary attention, active recall, abstract thought, and
voluntary behavior that had never existed in the animal world
and that have never, to any extent, been demonstrated to be pri­
mordial properties of the "spirit . "
T o approach human mental life from this angle entailed a rad­
ical reorganization of all the basic areas of psychology . Per­
ception and memory, imagination and thought, emotional experi ­
ence and voluntary action ceased to be considered natural func ­
tions of nervous tissue or simple properties of mental life . It
became obvious that they have a highly complex structure and

*He made a special analysis of this crisis, but it has not been
published .
2 76 A. R. Luria

that this structure has its own sociohistorical genesis and has
acqui red new functional attributes peculiar to man. Speech ac ­
tivity ceased to be regarded as an isolated process only indi ­
rectly connected with perception, attention, memory, and thought.
It actually became possible to explain the processes of abstract
thought and voluntary action scientifically . What had previously
been considered isolated "functions" or even irresolvable prop­
erties now emerged as highly complex functional systems formed
in the past and changing in the course of lifetime development .
When communicating with adults, reorganizing his behavior on
the basis of obj ective activity and speech, and gaining knowledge,
a child not only acquires new forms of relationship to the exter­
nal world but also works out new ways of regulating his behavior
and establishes new functional systems enabling him to master
new forms of perception and rec all, new ways of thinking, and
new methods of organizing voluntary actions .
Vygotsky's ideas radic ally altered our view of the nature and
structure of mental processes. Fixed and immutable "mental
functions " were transformed into complex and mobile functional
systems that change during development; psychology emerged
from its constricting naturalistic boundaries and became the
science of the social formation of natural phenomena.
One question, however - perhaps the most essential one -
remained open: How is the material substratum to be under­
stood ? What conceptions of the working of the brain should un­
derlie our view of the material bases of mental activity ?
The problem of localizing mental functions in the cerebral
hemispheres (and the question of the cerebral bases of mental
activity was formulated in precisely this way) underwent a pe ­
riod of acute crisis i n the 192 0s, reflecting to a large extent the
general crisis in psychology . On the one hand, neurology con­
tinued to assert its naive ideas of the localization of complex
mental functions in limited areas of the cerebral cortex - ideas
originally crystallized in the great discoveries of the 18 70s . On
the basis of the simplified views of mental functions then current
in psychology, neurologists assumed that in addition to the cor­
tical sensory and motor "centers, " analogous centers could be
Vygotsky and Functional Localization 2 77

found for more complex mental processes . As a result of the

writings of Lissauer, Henschen, and Kleist, the idea of "percep ­
tual centers, " "calculational centers , " and "conceptual centers"
in the cerebral cortex did not seem the least bit extraordinary .
Naturally enough, however, these views of restricted localiza­
tion gave rise to serious doubt . Aware of the complexity of hu­
man higher mental processes and taking into account the well­
known clinical fact that they could be disrupted by injuries in
widely varied locations, many neurologists assumed that com ­
plex form s of mental processes were the result of the activity
of the brain as a whole . Some of these authors, adhering to the
holistic viewpoint (Monakov, Grunbaum), under the noticeable in­
fluence of the Wurzburg school of psychology, were indifferent
to all attempts to examine more closely the cerebral appara­
tuses connected with higher forms of mental activity . Others,
supporting Gestalt psychology (K . Goldstein), tried to construct
a hypothesis of an excitation structure evenly distributed
throughout the cortex and to see the basis of complex forms of
human mental activity in these featureless "structural" processes.
While accepting a restricted localization of elementary physio ­
logical processes in limited areas of the cortex, they rejected
in practice all concrete analysis of the critical zones that take
part in the execution of complex forms of human mental activity .
"Revolving in a vicious circle of structural psychology," wrote
Vygotsky, "examination of the localization of specifically human
functions vacillates between the poles of extreme naturalism and
extreme spiritualism" (loc . cit . P . 386) .
The idea of higher mental functions as social in origin, sys ­
tematic i n structure, and dynamic i n development, which Vygot ­
sky took as his starting point, naturally could not be contained
in the patterns described: a new, radically reorganized ap­
proach to their cerebral localization was required.
The fact that no mental function could be understood as a sim­
ple " property" of mental life forced, from the outset, rej ection
of the idea that higher nervous processes were represented in
the cortex in the same way as elementary physiological "func­
tions"; however, concrete ideas about their complex differenti -
2 78 A. R. Luria

ated composition had already rendered fruitless the concept of

the brain as a single, undifferentiated whole at the foundation
of such functions .
The ideas that Vygotsky arrived at made him think that "lo ­
calization of higher nervous functions can be understood only
chronogenically, as the result of mental development, " that the
relationships characteristic of the separate parts of the brain
that fulfill higher mental functions "are formed during the pro­
cess of development, " and that "the human brain possesses new
localized principles compared with an animal's brain" (loc . cit .
P . 382 ) . This discovery required a much fuller and more con­
crete analysis of the functional organization of human mental
processes, for without this all attempts at solving the problem
of localization would be impos sible .
In his earlier experiments (see his Izbrannyye psikhologi ­
cheskiye issledovaniya [Selected psychological investigations ] .
Moscow: APN RSFSR, 19 56; and Razvitiye vysshikh psikhi­
cheskikh funktziy) Vygotsky had already considered the fact that
a child's mental development is not a simple maturing of natural
"instincts , " but occurs in the process of obj ective activity and
communication with adults . The child masters the tools devel­
oped in human history and learns to make use of external means
or signs to organize his own behavior . Whereas an animal's
responses are produced by stimuli arising from its external or
internal environment, a child's actions very quickly begin to be
directed by signals he himself creates and obeys . The child 's
direction of his attention by means of his own speech signals and
his organi'zation of his activity through the regulation, first, of
external and, later, of internal speech serve as examples of me­
diated organization of his mental processes. Only gradually
does this overt activity, which relies on the external environ­
ment, contract and acquire a covert character, turning into those
internal mental processes that can appear as simple and irre­
solvable "mental functions" .but actually are the product of highly
complex historical development.
Naturally such a mediated, "instrumental" type of behavior,
which is peculiar to man and absent in animals, makes one as-
Vygotsky and Functional Localization 279

sume a new principle in localizing higher mental processes as

distinct from those forms of cerebrally organized behavior
found in animals . This is why Vygotsky speaks of the role of
"extracerebral connections" in localizing functions connected
with specifically human areas of the brain (Razvitiye vysshikh
psikhicheskikh funktziy . P . 39 1). These are formed in man's
external activity, in the use of tools and external signs, which
are so important to the formation of higher mental functions.
Human practical activity is impossible to imagine without an ob­
jective, as is verbal thought without language and its external
devices, speech sounds, letters, and logico-grammatical con­
structions, created in the course of social history .
Social history ties the knots that produce new correlations be ­
tween certain zones of the cerebral cortex; and if the use of lan­
guage and its phonetic codes gives rise to new functional rela­
tionships between the temporal (auditory) and kinesthetic (sen­
sorimotor) areas of the cortex, then this is the product of his ­
torical development relying on "extracerebral connections" and
forming new "functional organs" in the cerebral cortex (see
A . N. Leont 'ev, Problemy psikhicheskogo razvitiya [ P roblems
of mental development] . Moscow: APN RSFSR, 19 59) .
However, the fact that in the course of history man has devel­
oped new functions does not mean that each such function relies
on a new group of nerve cells and that new "centers" of higher
nervous functions appear, such as those so eagerly sought by
neurologists during the last third of the 19th century . The de­
velopment of new "functional organs " occurs through the forma­
tion of new functional systems, which has never happened in ani ­
mals and which is a means for the unlimited development of
cerebral activity . The human cerebral cortex, thanks to this
principle, becomes an organ of civilization in which are hidden
boundless possibilities, and does not require new morphological
apparatuses every time history creates the need for a new function.
The study of systematic localization of higher mental functions
thus removes the contradiction between the ideas of restricted
localization and notions of the brain as a single entity . E ach
specific function ceases to be thought of as the product of some
2 80 A. R. Luria

center ; on the other hand, the function of the brain as a whole

ceases to be presented as the work of an undifferentiated and
uniform mass of nervous tissue . Both ideas have been replaced
by that of a system of highly differentiated cortical zones work­
ing simultaneously and accomplishing new tasks by means of
"intercenter" relations . These ideas, established by Vygotsky,
have provided the basis for the study of systematic or dynamic
functional localization that now, 30 years after the author's death,
have been thoroughly incorporated into modern science . (See
A. R. Luria, Vysshiye korkovyye funktzii cheloveka [The higher
cortical functions of man ] . Moscow State University, 1962 .)
One vital aspect of Vygotsky 's study of systematic localization
of mental functions still requires concrete experimentation, how ­
ever. This is the que stion of dynamic change in the correlation
of cerebral "centers" during development and disintegration,
which opens up new horizons for extended study of "chronogenic
localization" of functions in the cerebral cortex. Neurology had
never considered the possibility that the same functions could,
at different stages of development, be performed by different
parts of the cortex and that the interaction of different cortical
zones could vary at different stages of development . This is the
conclusion Vygotsky reached after careful study of the develop­
mental pattern of higher mental functions in ontogenesis . This
was a completely new idea for neurology .
In tracing the early stages of ontogenesis, Vygotsky showed
that the first steps in forming higher mental functions depended
on more elementary processes that served as a base . Complex
concepts cannot be developed if there are insufficiently stable
sensory perceptions and ideas; voluntary recall cannot be
formed if there is no stable substratum of immediate memory .
In later stages of mental development, however, the relationship
between elementary and complex processes changes. Higher
mental functions developing on a base of elementary mental pro ­
cesses begin to influence the base, and even the simplest forms
of mental processes are reorganized under the influence of
higher mental activity ; it is enough to recall the part played by
verbal classification in color perception to understand the full
Vygotsky and Functional Localization 281

depths of this proces s .

These facts compelled Vygotsky to as sume that the relation­
ship between separate cortical zones changes during develop ­
ment and that if, initially, the formation of "higher" centers de ­
pends on the maturity of the "lower, " ultimately the "higher"
organize and influence the "lower" in fully formed behavior .
This inverse correlation of cortical areas at different stages of
development, according to Vygotsky 's theory, means that injury
to one particular cortical area may lead to extremely diff;r;mt
syndromes at different stages . If injury to the cortical zones in
question in the early stages of development leads to underdevel­
opment of the higher sections forming on this base, after matur­
ity it is the lower systems dependent on these zones that are af­
fected by injury . This assumption makes it clear that injury to
the gnostic zones of the cortex in early childhood leads to gen­
eral mental underdevelopment, and that in an adult it produces
isolated symptoms of agnosia that can - within certain limits -
be compensated for by the undamaged higher systems of the cortex .
The assumption that a change occurs in relations between cen­
ters in subsequent st�ges of ontogenesis added a new dimension
to the study of dynamic localization of mental functions; but only
the next generation of investigators will be able to estimate the
full import of this brilliant theory .
Vygotsky 's research of the late 1920s on the development of
higher mental functions, the changes occurring in them under
abnormal conditions, and their disintegration in the presence of
cerebral injury laid the foundations for a new area of science,
neuropsychology, which has only recently become established.
His last work, published posthumously, "Psychology and the
localization of mental functions '' (notes for a lecture he was fated
never to deliver), was the first and most comprehensive program
for investigating the functional organization of the human brain,
the organ of human consciousnes s .
This was one of the greatest contributions to science of that
outstanding investigator L. S. Vygotsky .
Trans lated by
William M. Mandel
A. R. Luria and E . Yu . Artem 'eva

TWO APPROACHES TO AN
EVALUATION OF THE RE LIABILITY
OF PSYCHOLOGICAL INVE STIGATIONS
(Reliability of a Fact and Syndrome Analysis)*

A psychologist faced with the problem of ensuring the neces ­

sary degree of reliability of a fact he has discovered usually
proceeds along a scientifically well-established path . He defines
the problem, isolates the relevant area of investigation, finds a
procedure adequate to the problem, and collects the number of
cases necessary to ensure the reliability of the discovered fact .
The criterion of reliability in these cases is the amount of data
the investigator has at hand and the amount of variability in the
results obtained . It is generally accepted that when the facts at
hand are completely homogeneous, a relatively small number of
experiments is sufficient to ensure reliability, whereas if the
variability of the obtained data is relatively great, the number
of observations required to ensure the statistical reliability of

*This paper was prepared for presentation at the XIXth Inter­

national Congress of Psychology, held July 2 7 -August 2, 1969, in
London, and was obtained by the editor directly from Professor
Luria. It reflects one of the primary concerns of the psychology
group at Moscow University - the need to increase mathemati ­
cal sophistication in the conduct of psychological research. - Ed.

282
Evaluating Reliability of Psychological Investigations 283

a fact must be increased considerably .

However, this procedure, which is classical for almost all
spheres of science, is not the only one; and there are numerous
fields in which this classical procedure is inapplicable . One of
these is clinical psychology; another is a new branch of psychol ­
ogy, namely, neuropsychology .
Neuropsychology is concerned with the analysis of cerebral
mechanisms of mental processes, and its primary subj ect mat ­
ter is the case in which circumscribed local brain lesions cause
specific changes in mental processes. An analysis of patients
with local brain lesions has established that the temporal region
of the left hemisphere plays an essential role in ensuring com ­
plex forms of verbal (phonemic) hearing; that the parieto -occip ­
ital region of the left hemisphere is involved in the synthesis of
incoming visual and tactile impressions into simultaneous spa­
tial structures and in the formation of complex forms of verbal
(symbolic) syntheses; and that the frontal lobe is intimately in ­
volved in the programming and regulation of human behavior .
However, a fundamental difficulty always arises in any neu­
ropsychological investigation . A neuropsychologist always deals
with a relatively small number of cases. For example, a rela­
tively "clean" local lesion of a ce rtain brain area that does
not involve neighboring zones of the cerebral cortex and is not
accompanied by general cerebral disturbances is so unlikely
that it is effectively impossible to ensure the reliability of an
observation by accumulating an amount of reproducible material
that is statistically sufficient .
Does this circumstance preclude the possibility of the neuro­
psychologist 's obtaining reliable facts, so that neuropsychology
must be relegated to the fate of a descriptive branch of knowl ­
edge that can never approach the reliability of a genuine scien­
tific investigation ?
To accept this view would be to renounce any attempt to find
scientific means of acquiring reliable knowledge in an entire,
important sphere of science.
There are numerous important considerations that convince
us that such a view is totally unwarranted and that the reliability
284 A. R. Luria & E . Yu. Artem 'eva

of a neuropsychological investigation, as of any clinical investi ­

gation, can, indeed, be ensured, albeit in a totally different way,
which is a function of the very nature of this sphere of knowledge.
A neuropsychological investigation is based on the premise
that any mental activity is a complex functional system reflect­
ing the joint activity of a whole group of cerebral (and in the
first instance, cortical) zones, and that every area of the brain
has its own highly specific function, which plays a neces sary and
specific role in the effective performance of complex forms of
mental activity. From this premise we may infer that by dis ­
rupting this role, a lesion of any area of the brain gives rise to
an immediate primary defect, which in turn produces a series
of secondary or systemic disorders and disturbs the normal
process of that form of mental activity in which this functional
system was active .
Thus, as we have already demonstrated elsewhere (A . R .
Luria, 1967, 1962 , 1966, and others),* a lesion of the cortex of
the left temporal region results directly in the disturbance of
complex forms of verbal (phonemic) hearing, which is a primary
symptom of such a lesion. However, disturbance of phonemic
sound necessarily entails a disturbance of all forms of verbal
activity, which is impossible without the participation of intact
verbal hearing. Consequently, these patients are necessarily
unable to perceive speech addres sed to them with adequate c lar ­
ity, to name obj ects without error, or to write, although mental
processes that do not involve phonemic hearing (e.g., written
calculations, spatial orientation) remain intact.
The same holds true for lesions of the left parieto -occipital
region of the cortex. The structure of this region, which is an
"area of overlapping" of cortical sections of the visual, auditory,
tactile, and vestibular analyzers, makes it an important appara­
tus for the synthesis of successive incoming impressions into
simultaneous spatial structures, thereby ensuring, as an eminent
neurologist phrased it, the possibility "of unifying isolated stim-

*References were not supplied in the manuscript we received

from P rofessor Luria. - Ed.
Evaluating Reliability of Psychological Investigations 285

uli into a simultaneous whole" and "of converting a consecutive

review into a simultaneous panorama." Hence it is natural that
when this section of the cerebral cortex is damaged, the possi ­
bility of relying on such "simultaneous spatial structures" van­
ishes; and the patient begins to experience notable difficulties in
orienting himself in the perceived space, in distinguishing be­
tween right and left, or in simultaneously comprehending the
spatial relationships among a group of obj ects . This defect is
an immediate, primary result of the particular lesion .
However, such a lesion unavoidably leads to secondary or sys­
temic disorders of all types of mental activity that are not able
to take place without simultaneous synthesis . Consequently, pa­
tients with a lesion of the parieto-oc cipital region of the left
hemisphere are not able to decipher a geographical map or geo ­
metrical patterns, whatever their complexity . They begin to ex­
perience serious difficulties in mental computations and are no
longer able to comprehend logico-grammatical constructions
exhibiting a complex system of relationships (A . R. Luria, 1947,
1962, 1966) . These difficulties are a secondary or systemic re­
sult of a primary focal lesion, and processes that are not incor ­
porated into such "instantaneous spatial structures" remain in ­
tact in these case s . An analysis of primary defects from local
brain lesions and of their relationship to secondary systemic
disorders is also the paramount method of neuropsychology, by
virtue of which a neuropsychologist is able to describe the set
of symptoms or "syndrome" of mental disorders resulting from
the local brain lesion.
This method of "syndrome analysis" of brain lesions, which
essentially reproduces the method employed in any clinical in­
vestigation, is of prime significance : it is a second method of
ensuring the reliability of an observed fact, and can be ranked
on a par with the first method - the classical method - with
which we began our discussion .
There are many features of this method that are quite unique
and that render it fundamentally different from the first, clas ­
sical method.
In itself, a "primary symptom" does not exhibit any signifi -
286 A . R. Luria & E. Yu . Artem 'eva

cance and can have many causes. An elevated body temperature

may be the result of any one of dozens of causes, and does not
in itself indicate an underlying infection, intoxication, or other
phenomenon . Even less does the high temperature have a causal
association with any specific system of the organism . A physi ­
cian can advance a hypothesis as to the nature of a disease and
suggest a sufficiently probable analysis of it only by correlating
an elevated temperature with a whole series of other symptoms.
The difficulties a patient with an as -yet-unknown brain lesion
experiences in repeating closely similar phonemes (such as £
and p, or d and t) suggest that these difficulties can be traced to
a disturb �ce i; phonemic hearing. However, the plausibility of
this hypothesis is very slight. Indeed, the difficulties experi ­
enced by a patient in repeating similar phonemes can with equal
probability be caused by difficulty in switching from one pho ­
neme to the other, by defects in articulation, by general inactiv­
ity, etc . The observed symptom itself is always amenable to
many interpretations, and its definitive significance can finally
be established only by comparing it with other symptoms or, in
other words, by "syndrome analysis." Thus, if a patient expe­
riencing difficulties in repeating similar phonemes also exhibits
the same difficulties in writing them or in discriminating word
meanings, confuses similar -sounding words, has trouble in
naming objects, or makes phonemic mistakes in selecting words,
without, however, showing any signs of a pathological inerti:iess
in movements, difficulties in articulation, or diminished activity,
it is much more probable that the observed syndrome is a mani ­
festation of an underlying disturbance in phonemic hearing.
The same holds for the second example given above.
A disturbance in spatial orientation is not sufficiently reliable
grounds by itself for postulating a lesion of the parieto-occipital
sections of the brain. This syndrome may be the result of mem ­
ory disorder, defects in programming of the patient 's activity,
inactivity from which the patient becomes increasingly suscep ­
tible to any direct stimulus, etc. The significance of a hypothe­
sized lesion of parieto-occipital brain systems i. s substantially
enhanced only after the neuropsychologist turns to an analysis
Evaluating Reliability of Psychological Investigations 287

of other types of mental activity and discovers that the patient

is able to perform without difficulty tasks not requiring intact
spatial patterns, retains adequate goal-directedness and activity,
has an intact verbal memory, but experienc es difficulties in
perceptual and in motor and symbolic processes that require in­
tact spatial patterns for their fulfillment.
This means that neither a description of a single symptom in
one patient nor its repeated observation in a large number of
patients increases reliability in the analysis of a fact under
study . A single symptom is always open to multiple interpreta­
tions (A. R. Luria & M. Yu. Rapoport, 1964), and the necessary
reliability can be ensured only through syndrome analysis .
Consequently, a neuropsychologist (in contrast to a psycho ­
physio logist and general psychologist) is seldom able to eschew
a careful study of "secondary" symptoms not directly related to
the obj ect of his study . On the contrary, he makes such a com ­
parison of a whole group of processes (some disturbed, so�
intact) the primary method of his investigation; moreover, the
greate r the number of such symptoms, whether negatively or
positively correlated, he has at his disposal, the greater is the
reliability of his hypothesis .
It would be erroneous to think that a comparison of interre­
lated symptoms and syndrome analysis, which is the chief
method of neuropsychology, can only inc rease the probability
of an accurate local diagnosis of a lesion .
The main value of this method lies in the fact that it allows
one to go from a description of the clinical picture of a patient's
disorders to an analysis of the fundamental conditions or factors
behind the observed group of symptoms .
However, such a "factor analysis, " which is conducted on one
patient by correlating a large number of symptoms and which
substantially increases the reliability of a hypothesis, is not
limited to a simple description of the observed symptoms . This
method can be utilized to its fullest only by a qualitative analy ­
sis of those symptoms that exhibit a maximum correlation and
are necessarily associated with each other .
As we already indicated in one of the examples above, if a
288 A. R. Luria & E . Yu . Artem 'eva

lesion of the parieto-occipital section of the left hemisphere in­

evitably gives rise to symptomatology that includes disordered
spatial orientation, considerable difficulties in calculation, and
disturbances in the comprehension of complex logico-grammati ­
cal structures, the investigator can assume with high probability
that all these disorders conceal a common factor that is directly
involved with the function of po ste rio r sections of the cerebral
cortex and that breaks down when they are injured. A precise
characterization of this factor requires a psychological analysis
or, in other words, a careful study of the disturbed processes
and an attempt to find some common constituents without which
these processes could not run their normal course . In the ex­
ample we have given, an investigation made it possible to isolate
the factor responsible for formation of simultaneous spatial pat ­
terns or relationships; moreover, this factor is disclosed by a
qualitative analysis of each of the processes enumerated and is
corroborated by the necessary appearance of the entire group
of symptoms desc ribed for a circumscribed local brain lesion .
This illustrates a close similarity between the method of
"syndrome analysis" and the method of "factor analysis, " which
is widely used in psychology . However, the procedures used in
the former are fundamentally different and pe rmit a high degree
of reliability to be achieved with a comparatively small number
of cases - sometimes even a single case .

After pointing out that syndrome analysis can considerably in­

crease the reliability of a psychological investigation and pave
the way for isolation of "factors" even when the number of sub ­
jects is small, we should give a more precise formulation of the
formal foundations of such a possibility . It would be desirable
to employ a procedure for evaluating reliability of inferences
that would most fully reflect the formal aspects of the logic
evolved by a clinician or neuropsychologist in many years of
p ractice . A convenient instrument for such a procedure would
appear to be some modification of Bayes' s formula by which the
Evaluating Reliability of Psychological Investigations 289

a posteriori probabilities of a hypothesis after the occurrence

of a certain event are evaluated:
Let Av A 2 , A 3 , . . . , A n be a system of nonintersecting hypoth ­
eses constituting in their totality a reliable event; B, an event
that either may or may not occur empirically ; P(A 1 ), P (A2 ), . . . ,
P (An ), a priori probabilities of the hypotheses; and P(B/ Ai), ... ,
(P (B/An ), the probabilities that event B will occur if the corre­
sponding hypothesis is true .
Then P(A.B)
P(A 1/B) --
=
P(B)1-
P(B/ Ai) P(\)
P(B)
P(B/ A.)1 P(A.)1
n ( 1)
L P(B/ A.) P(A.)
J J
j = 1.

We will use the Bayes approach to discuss two different but

interrelated problems of neuropsychology:
( 1) knowing a set of manifest symptoms, to evaluate the re­
liability of an inference concerning the location of a lesion;
(2 ) knowing the location of a lesion, to distinguish a set of
symptoms forming the essential factors of which a syndrome is
constituted . This problem seems to be very closely associated
with the detection of a set of symptoms necessary for an opti­
mum increase in the probability of a hypothesis concerning an
actual loc ation .
Let us turn to a solution of the first problem.
Ag�n, assume A - a hypothesis conc erning lesion location,
A - a hypothesis of any other location,
B 1 , . . . , Bn - observed symptoms,
C 1 , . . . , C m - factors responsible for the symptoms,
Dl, ... , Dk - a factor-ensemble: factors on the next level
of generality, perhaps already unequivocally associated with
the lesion.

Let us construct a hierarchical procedure for establishing the

290 A. R. Luria & E . Yu . Artem 'eva

reliability of the hypothesis A of location; first, we determine

the reliability of the exi stence of the factors underlying the
symptoms (the roots of the symptoms) and then the reliability of
uniting the factors into a factor-ensemble corresponding to the
given lesion and the reliability of the location hypothesis itself .
Let the actually observed symptoms known to us be
B 1, · · , Bn
·

C the hypothetical factor,

-

'C all other factors that can explain the symptoms,

-

P(C) the probability of how often the given factor occurs,

-

P (B/C) the probability that symptom Bi occurs if the

-

hypothetical factor C occurs (as a rule, P (B/C ) 1), =

P (B/'C) - the probability of a symptom 's appearing jointly

with other factors .
The probability P (C) and P (Bi /'C), generally speaking, must
be determined from records; but, as will be shown below, in
most cases very rough estimations of the type "symptom Bi
occurs jointly with factor C less often than without it" (the type
familiar to every empirical researcher) are sufficient to estab­
lish reliability . Since at this stage of observation we employ
independent tests and do not know whether Bi and Bj are as so­
ciated or not, we assume their independence in the aggregate of
sets of outcomes corresponding to C and C, which is the as ­
sumption least favorable to our hypothesi s .
Then
P 0(C) = P(C)
P(B /C) P(C) ·

pl
(C) = ����-=-�����-
P(B/C) P(C) + P(B/C) ( 1 - P(C))
·
(2)
(C) = P(B/C) P(BlC) P(C)
·

p 2
P(B /C) P(BlC) P(C) + P(B/C) P(BlC) ( 1 - P(C))

P(B/C) P(B/C), . . . , P(B/C) P(C)

p n(C) =
P(Bi/C) P(BlC), . . . , P(B/C) P(C) + P(B/C) P(B/C), . . . , P(B/C) ( 1 - P(C) .
Let us examine a numerical example illustrating a readjust­
ment of the probability of the hypothesis postulating the pres-
Evaluating Reliability of Psychological Investigations 29 1

ence of factor C :
Let P (C ) = 0. 5, P (B/C ) = 1, P (Bi/C) = 0 . 5, with B 1, B2 , . . . ,
B l O occurring empirically,
P 0 (C) = 0. 5

P l (C) = 0. 5 �·�.2 5 o. 7=

P2 (C) = 0. + g_-:. 0 5 � 0.82

7 .
P 3 (c ) 0.82 +0.82
=
o. rn . o. 5 � o .9
0. 9
p 4 (c ) = 0. 9 + 0. 1 . 0. 5 � 0 · 94
0.9 4
p 5 (c ) = 0. 94 + 0.03 "" 0 · 99 7 .
After the hypotheses postulating the presence of factors have
been tested, or at least after P (C/B 1 , . . . , Bn ) have been found,
we pass to a discussion of the relfa,bility of the hypothesis A
itself, postulating location.
Let A be our hypothesis, and C 1, . . . , C m factors . If P(A),
P (C / A) , P (C i /A) are known, then analogous to formula (2)
P(C /A), . . . , P(C /A) P(A)
Pm (A) = P(C /A), . . . , P(C /A) · P(A) + P(Cm/i\), . . . , P(C /A.) P( ) (3 )
m m A

Here, sinc e C 1, . . . , C m have a probability near but not equal

to unity, the true reliability (let us call it a) of the inference is
somewhat lower than that which we obtained. Actually,

(4)

If the number of factors is relatively small and they are re­

liable to 99.9%, error is negligible; and a correction for P m (A)
is unnecessary ( a � P m (A)) . If, however, P (C i/B 1, . . . , Bn) is
far from unity, a correction is necessary .
If the factors are not independent, but combinations of factor ­
ensembles appear, the true reliability is even greater since in
this case
292 A. R. Luria & E . Yu . Artem 'eva

P(C 1, . . . , Cm/A) · P(A)

P(A/C l , . . . , Cm ) = P(C , . . . , C /A) · P(A) + P(C , . . . , C /A.) P(A) > P (A)
1 m 1 m - m
We observe that our approach differs from the well -known
idea of calculating the probabi lity of a disease when symptoms
assumed to be independent are manifested . Without speaking of
the difficulties in establishing the initial values and in the in­
terpretation of the results of such a calculation, its results are
weaker than those examined here . Let us illustrate this with a
numerical example .
Assume that two symptoms B 1 and B2 are observed and that
it is known that they can be explained (or perhaps cannot be ex­
plained) by one factor, C . The reliability of location A must be
determined with a significance of 90%. Assume that
P(A) 0. 5 P(B/A) = 1
= P(C/A) 1 P(B/C) = 1
=

P(C) = 0.8 P(B/A) = 0.6 P(C/A) = 0.05 P(B/� = 0.4 5

then P(Bi/C) can no longer be as signed arbitrarily, but must be
compatible with the other probabilities .
Then P(C/B 1B2 ) ::::: 0. 99 5
P(A/C) ::::: 0. 9 52
a = 0. 9 52 0. 99 5 ::::: 0. 947
·

i.e., A is, practically speaking, reliable (90% significance ) .

Let us now find P(A/B 1 B2 ) by assuming independent symp ­
toms .

and the inference cannot yet be considered significant at the

90% level.
We now pass to the second type of problem a neuropsycho lo ­
gist faces . Assume that only one patient is observed and that
the location A of the lesion and the set of symptoms B t, . . . , Bn
detected by a specific set of tests are known . It is desirable to
isolate adequately a set of factors circumsc ribing the lesion .
Assume that such a problem can be solved as follows : the
symptoms are concretely analyzed, as a result of which the as ­
sumed set of factors C 1 , . . . , C m is elucidated and estimates of
P(Bi/C j ), P(Bi /C'j ) are obtained . As in the first problem ,
P(C j /B 1 , . . , Bn) are calculated by formulas analogous to (2 ) ;
.
Evaluating Reliability of Psychological Investigations 29 3

and a, the reliability of the location A , is found.

P {C 1, . . . , Cm/A) P{A)
a = P(C ), . . . , P(C ) ...:;,_ __:;::..._
1 m _____ _ ______

P(C 1, . . . , Cm/A) · P(A) + P{c 1, . . . , C /A) P{A)

m
If the estimated frequenc ies of occurrence of the sets of fac ­
tors elsewhere than at the given location are known, the sets of
factors and their specific interrelation (see the sets A and A),
which together optimize the tendency of a . toward unity , can be
found . These sets and this interrelationship are the best coor ­
dinates for detecting a lesion and, consequently, are in some
sense its best desc riptive characteristics and factor-ensembles .
Then the sets of symptoms and their interrelations, which give
the optimal inc rease in probability P (C j /Bl, . . . , Bn), can rea­
sonably be assumed to be the symptomatology of the factor C j ,
and the combination of such sets for all C j in the factor-ensembles
to be the symptomatology of a lesion in the particular location.
Translated by
Michel Vale
A. R. Luria and L . S . Tzvetkova

DISTURBANCE OF INTE LLECTUAL FUNCTIONS

IN PATIE NTS WITH FRONTAL LOBE LESIONS

It is well known that lesions of the posterior (parieto-occipi ­

, tal) and frontal lobes of the brain lead to structurally disparate
disturbances in intellectual functions .
Whereas in patients with posterior (parieto-occipital) lobe
lesions the orienting basis of intellectual activity is preserved
and only individual intellectual functions (such as the possibility
of simultaneous comparison of different descriptions) are dis ­
turbed, patients with frontal lobe lesions exhibit a contrary pic ­
ture . Individual functions are potentially preserved, but the
orienting basis of an intellectual act is often affected, and the
selectivity of intellectual processes governed by a particular
program is disrupted [ 1, 2 ] .
We have previously restricted outselves to an analysis of
disturbances in solving arithmetic problems . In the present
report we shall explore disturbances manifested in another type
of intellectual function, i . e . , those involved in outlining and re­
counting a written text. Particular attention has been given to
an analysis of the orienting basis of this type of activity .
The patients were presented with a relatively simple text .
They were to read it through and recount it orally . Then they
were asked to outline their recitation . Thus they were placed
in a situation that required a special orientation toward the con-

From Voprosy psikhologii, 1967, 13(4), 102 - 106 .

294
Effects of Frontal Lobe Lesions 295

ceptual structure of the text . For a control, the same patients

were asked to relate some event in their lives and to outline
this account .
The study involved a comparative analysis of patients with
parieto -occipital or with frontal lobe lesions .
It is recognized that work with a written text, like other intel­
lectual tasks, demonstrates the most essential aspects of an in­
tellectual act . For a coherent account of any event, it is first
necessary to set out certain ideational points of reference to
establish the pattern of narration; then the individual episodes
must be distinguished and coordinated with each other, showing
their interrelatedness . This preliminary analytic-synthetic ac ­
tivity is immediately transformed into a detailed narrative .
The construction of an outline of a perused text represents
the most complicated requirements for the orienting basis of an
intellectual act . To compose suqh an outline it is necessary to
divert one 's attention from the direct exposition of the material
and to break the text down into its ideational components . Each
of these components acts as an ideational reference point in
constructing an outline . These points may be delineated only in
the final result of an active, conscious process to extract the es­
sential point of the material (A . A . Smirnov [ 4 ] ). All these
processes (breaking down the text into components, isolating the
ideational points of reference in the text, and determining the
points of primary and secondary importance and the relation­
ship between them ) are the principal elements in any intellec ­
tual activity .
The analysis of a text according to its ideational components
and the extraction of the main thought from each of these, i . e . ,
the ability to ignore unessential details, is an active process
requiring a preliminary orientation to the material and the
maintenance of a goal -directed, analytic-synthetic activity .
In our study we found that in work with a written text, as in
the solution of arithmetic problems ( see reference 3), the dis ­
turbance of the process reveals sharp differences between pa­
tients of the two test groups .
Patients with frontal lobe lesions exhibited striking defects
296 A. R. Luria & L. S. Tzvetkova

in work with a written text.

These defects were already apparent in the simple recounting
of the perused text .
Descriptive texts containing several trains of thought were
often recounted fragmentarily by these patients : only isolated,
sometimes unrelated, facts were presented. They were unable
to discern the chief thought of the text, to distinguish a unified
pattern of exposition; and sometimes they included in their ac ­
count incidental associations that occurred to them while read ­
ing and consequently were unable to give a unified, consistent
presentation of the perused material.
The disturbances characteristic of these patients were also
manifested when they recounted re latively simple narrative
texts : sometimes these narrations followed the text very closely,
often the individual fragments of the exposition were unrelated,
and sometimes the sequence of the exposition was interrupted
by incidental associations that occurred to the patients as they
read the text .
A careful analysis showed that all these defects were attrib­
utable to the fact that these patients did not make a special ef­
fort to analyze the ideational structure of the text; the exposi ­
tion followed the formal plan of the text, rather than an outline
formulated by the patients . This was especially noticeable when
the patient was asked to make his own outline of narration first
and then to relate its content. Often the patient was totally in­
capable of performing such a task .

For example, patient Bog . (56 years old, higher educa­

tion, senior scientific assistant) had been admitted to a
rehabilitation course after removal of a tumor from a
posterior area of the left frontal lobe . The patient
clearly manifested a frontal lobe (posterior area) syn­
drome, with inactivity, lack of spontaneity, clumsy per ­
severations, and inertness of stereotypes occurring in
the motor and the speech apparatus . The patient was
asked to read and recount orally a story by G. Skrebitzkiy
and V. Chaplin, "Look out the window." The patient al-
Effects of F rontal Lobe Lesions 297

most word for word recounted the content of this story,

but was completely unable to outline it .
When asked to formulate an outline of the story, the pa-
tient said: "Outline . . . well . . . yes . . . the first point, that
is . . . of course ! The first is . . . look out the window . . .
(pause) . . . well, and then the second is - look out the win­
dow (laughs) and there you will see . . . the whole window
is decorated with white designs and the trees also . . . "
(then the patient again glided off into a simple exposition
of the story 's content) .
Patient Urb. (30 years old, secondary education) under ­
went several operations in 1960-63 . First a tumor (oli­
godendroglioma) in the anterior area of the right frontal
lobe was removed; this was followed by extirpation of a
tumor from the posterior area of the right frontal lobe;
and finally, another tumor in the posterior -medial area
of the left frontal lobe was removed.
This patient, like the previous one, was able to com ­
municate the content of stories quite accurately, in great
detail. For example, he had no difficulty in recounting
L . N. Tolstoy 's story "The eagle"; but he failed com ­
pletely in his attempts to outline the story . To the tester's
questions "How did the story begin ? What was the main
thought in the first part of the text ? " the patient answered,
"About an eagle and his nest." When asked to give an out­
line of the story, the patient immediately passed to a
simple recounting of the text: ''Next the people simply
took away his fish, the devils, and went away . The eagle
i s our tsar, and that's the way they treated him! He flew
back to his young without the fish, and there they were
peeping, asking for something to eat ; but the eagle was
tired . . . , " etc . (Extract from report of July 12, 1963 .)

Analogous difficulties were observed in patients of this group

when they attempted to narrate some known or experienced
event. They were able to narrate a known episode or series of
episodes, but they were unable to formulate a preliminary out-
298 A. R. Luria & L . S. Tzvetkova

line ; and they were incapable of relating a story in accordance

with an outline . Hence, to write a composition on a slightly
known theme requiring preliminary reflection and the construc ­
tion of a basic plan of exposition was completely beyond the ca­
pabilities of these patients .

The same patient Bog . related a j ourney to the South .

" I traveled to the South . The South, the land of plenty,
beautiful country. Yes, I went there . There grow the
p lane trees, beeches, hornbeam, rosalia . . . there is the
sea. Where you can bathe and get a tan . . . , " etc . This,
however, is the outline he made for this same story .
"(1) The South is a land of the sun . (2) The South is the
land of happiness . (3) My journey (pause) . . . that's all."
In response to a request for a more detailed outline from
the moment of departure, the patient wrote: "( l } My jour­
ney to the South. (2 ) My journey to the land of plenty .
(3) My journey . . . (pause) . . . that's all."
Further attempts to encourage the patient to make an
outline were fruitless.
The same phenomena was observed in patient Bor. (50
years old, secondary -school teacher), who had had a tu­
mor removed from the left temporal lobe in 1963. When
asked to relate something about the North, sh� said: "The
North means the cold and lack of fruit . . . that's all; what's
more . . . " (pause). When requested to relate something
more detailed, she retorted: "Well, what are more de ­
tails ? . . . I simply can't . . . I will tell about Shadrinsk ; I
lived there and know the place, but don't know how to tell
about it . . . There is much snow, severe frost . . . there are
difficulties with water . . . you must wait your turn for a
bath . . . there are many dogs . . . every house has a mean
dog . . . the houses are of wood. They fell trees . That 's all."

Thus, when working with a written text, as when solving arith­

metic problems, patients with frontal lobe lesions are inca­
pable of isolating essential relationships and cannot compose a
Effects of Frontal Lobe Lesions 299

preliminary outline . The orienting basis of intellectual activity

leading to the construction of a plan for further exposition is
profoundly disturbed in these patients.
Patients with parieto-occipital lesions displayed a totally dif ­
ferent syndrome .
In contrast to patients with frontal lobe lesions, patients of
this group exhibited pronounced defects in both the nominative
function of speech and in its logico -syntactical structure . This
is sharply reflected in the detailed narrative speech of the pa­
tients . Sometimes they have difficulty in constructing a sen­
tenc e, and even more in constructing an entire coherent narra­
tive . For this reason, these patients experienced considerable
difficulty in fulfilling the task of reciting a perused text. But
in contrast to patients with frontal lobe lesions, they managed
a story outline with relative ease . Even though they still ex­
hibited the described speech defects, they were aware of the
central point in each ideational unit, frequently expressed this
in two or three words, and were able to formulate an outline,
although with considerable speech difficulties .

Patient Bub . (39 years old, higher education), with re­

sidual symptoms of thromboembole in the left medial
cerebral artery and a syndrome of gross semantic apha­
sia, spatial disorientation, acalculia, and defective oral
expression, was examined by the same procedure . After
several attempts to give a coherent account of the con­
tent of a story about the adventures of Odysseus, the pa­
tient was still unable to fulfill this task . However, he
quite rapidly composed a precise outline of the story,
consisting of the following points : " ( 1) Odysseus - a
brave and clever man; (2) The journey of Odysseus;
(3) His encounter with Cyclops; (4) Scylla and Charybdis;
(5) Odysseus and the people . " (Extracts from report of
January 12, 196 3 . )
The same phenomenon was observed in patient L., who
had had an arachnoid endothelioma removed from the left
occipital parasagittal area in 196 1, after which a syn-
300 A . R. Luria & L. S. Tzvetkova

drome of spatial disorientation, pronounced semantic and

anamnestic aphasia, and acalculia persisted.
The patient was asked to tell about a journey to the
South. She experienced considerable difficulty in fulfilling
the task. "In the South . . . it is hot . . . there is . . . vegeta-
tion . . . especially southern . . . there . . . it . . . Oh ! Good
heavens ! Really, I know all about it ; I've seen it . . . but I
can 't say anything . There are tropical plants . . . and . . .
and there are . . . people live . . . there . . . Oh ! I can 't ! "
(refusal) .
The speech of the patient was interrupted by pauses and
accompanied by pronounced emotional responses.
But when asked to make an outline of the story, the pa­
tient wrote, formulating each point with difficulty : (1) De ­
parture from Moscow ; (2 ) Sketch of the landscape along
the way; (3) Approaching southern regions ; (4) Character ­
istics of nature and the beauty of the South ; (5) Return
home .
Analogous phenomena were observed in her attempts to
cope with an outline for a story on a theme based on her
personal experience . For example, when she was asked
to make an outline of a story on the theme ' The North"
she said: "First, how it all began . . . this . . . How should
I say it? . . . well, anyway . . . the excursion, no . . . no . . .
no excursion, the preparation for departure to the North .
And then, the second point, well . . . the beginning . . . how
should I say it ? Well, let's say the beginning of the j our­
ney . The next point . . . that we . . . no . . . well, yes, I have
it, the interesting things met along the way . Next, arri ­
val, so, then . . . the forests . No, that 's not what I mean,
I want to tell about . . . no, about the arrival in the North .
How beautiful it is, different from where we live, unusual
. . . this can be expressed in the outline as . . . northern
beauty . And then . . . who lives there, what 's the correct
way to say it ? The inhabitants of the North, right ? And
now, something must be said about the animals, " etc .
(Extract from report of February 2 5, 1962 .)
Effects of Frontal Lobe Lesions 301

The data obtained demonstrate quite convincingly the essence

of the difficulties experienced by patients with parieto -occipital
lesions and make it possible to establish the fundamental differ­
ences in ttc intellectual processes of patients with parieto­
occipital and of those with frontal lobe lesions . Whereas in pa­
tients with parieto -occipital lesions the orienting basis of intel­
lectual activity remains intact and the main defects are associ ­
ated with disturbances in the ability to formulate the subj ect
verbally, patients with frontal lobe lesions retain this ability,
and the main defect is found in a disturbance of the orienting
basis of intellectual activity and the ability to program that ac ­
tivity, i . e . , to extract a system of ideational relationships as a
guide for subsequent exposition.

References

1 . Luria, A . R . [Disturbance of the structure of an action in

frontal lobe lesions ] . Dokl. APN RSFSR, 1962, No . 5 .
2 . Luria, A . R., & Khomskaya, Ye. D . [Disturbanc e of intel­
lectual operations in posterior lobe lesions ] . Dokl. APN
RSFSR, 1962, No. 6 .
3 . Luria, A. R., & Tzvetkova, L . S. [ Neuropsychological
analysis of problem solving by patients with local brain dam ­
age ] . Moscow: "Prosveshchenie" Publishers, 1966.
4. Smirnov, A . A. [Psychological memoirs ] . Moscow : APN
RSFSR, 1946 .
A. R. Luria and L. S. Tzvetkova

NE UROPSYCHOLOGICAL ANALYSIS OF THE

PREDICATIVE STRUCTURE OF UTTE RANCES

A few years ago, one of the authors (A . R. Luria, 1947, 1948,

1962, 1963) described a special form of speech disorder, oc­
curring as a result of local injury to a posterior area of the left
frontal lobe, that he called dynamic aphasia.
This speech disorder is very similar to the speech adynamia
noted by early investigators (Kleist, 1930, 1934; Pick, 1905; and
others), and could be desc ribed as follows : The patient retains
the motor and sensory components of speech and can easily
name obj ects and repeat words and even sentences, but is to ­
tally unable to utter independent, expanded statements . His ac ­
tive speech is manifestly disturbed. When the major part of the
above -mentioned brain area is damaged, the patient is unable to
construct even simple phrases . In less severe cases various
difficulties arise as soon as the patient attempts to compose a
coherent story, describe a situation, or employ speech in an
oral conversation .
Although comprehension remains as fully intact as motor
speech, the patient is unable to use speech for spontaneous com ­
munication and thus, for all practical purposes, is without
speech . When he is asked to desc ribe a picture or relate a
story, he makes unsuccessful attempts, saying: "Yes . . . and . . .

From A . A. Leont 'ev (Ed . ) Teoriya rechevoy deyatel 'nosti

[ The theory of verbal activity ] . 196 8 . Pp . 2 19 -33.

302
Neuropsychological Analysi s of Speech 303

how should I say it? . . . what the devil ! . . . No, I don't know . . . "
[ da . . . i . . . kak by eto skazat' . . . chert voz 'mi . . . net ya ne znayu ] .
We recall a patient with a bullet wound in the lower part of
the posterior area of the left frontal lobe who tried to compose
an oral composition on the subject "The North. " After 10 min
of unsuccessful attempts, he was able to say only: " There are
bears in the North . " With further encouragement, he added:
'Which I shall tell you about."
Another patient with an analogous syndrome who attempted to
present a more elaborate composition on the subj ect "The
North" proved to be totally incapable of doing so and solved the
problem by reciting Lermontov's well-known poem ''In the Wild
North . "
The syndrome of dynamic aphasia does exist, but its detailed
mechanisms are still unclear . The purpose of the present ex­
periment was to attempt to collate certain data for an analysis
of the disorders underlying this type of speech defect.

The Problem

Let us begin with a few examples of disorders of active

speech in patients with dynamic aphasia; only then will we be
able to formulate a hypothesis and set up a series of experi ­
ments to verify it.

Patient Mor (Institute of Neurosurgery, case history

No. 36309) (aneurism of the left anterior cerebral artery
and hemorrhage in the posterior central region of the left
hemisphere).
The patient was asked to relate the history of his ill-
ness. 'Well . . . what the devil . . I . . . oh . . . no . . . this is
.

terrible . . . painful . . . no . . . (3 ' 35"). [ Nu . . . chert voz 'mi

. . . ya . . . o . . . net . . . eto uzhasno . . . eto gore . . . net . . . ]
T ell us, please, where you live, what you do, and how
old you are. "I . . . oh . . . well . . I can't . . . simply can't."
.

[Ya . . . ok . . . vot . . . ne mogu . . . nikak. ]

When the patient was asked specific questions and the
304 A. R. Luria & L. S. Tzvetkova

experimenter prompted him, the patient was able to com ­

plete the answers .
Where do you work ? "Oh . . . well . . . " [O . . . da] I work .
"I work as a groom . " [Ya rabotayu konyukhom . ] How old
are you? - 'Well . . . how is it ? " - [Vot . . . kak eto ? ] I
am . . ''I am 2 8 ! " [Mne 28 ! ]
.

Where do you live ? - - - "I live . . . I live . . . " [ Zhivu . . •

zhivu . ] I live . . . - "I live in the country . " [ Ya shivu v

derevne .]What do horses do in the country ? - "O . . .
well . . . well . . . " [ 0 . . da . . . da ] They work in . . . They
.
--

haul . . . - ''Hay . " [Travu. ]

Who loads the hay in the cart ? "The workers . " [ Rabo­
chiye . ] Who pulls the wagon ? "The horses . " [ Loshadi . ]
What is in the cart ? ''Hay . . . " [Trava. ]

It is c lear that the patient was incapable of composing a

phrase, but had no difficulties in finishing a sentence begun by
the investigator .
What is the nature of the basic defect leading to a disturbance
in spontaneous speech ? It is difficult to give a name to this de­
fect . This speech disturbance is not based on a defect in nomi ­
nation: the patient has no difficulties in naming obj ects . Nor
is there a defect in activity : the patient actively attempts to
find the required speech construction, as is clearly manifested
in his affective reactions to his own incapacity .
What mechanism could underlie this disturbance ?

Disorders in Predicative Functions

There is evidence to indicate that a defect in the predica­

tive functions of speech lies at the basis of this disorder.
As Vygotsky pointed out many years ago, the process that
begins with a thought and terminates with an expanded state ­
ment has an intermediate stage of inner speech that is ab­
breviated in form and predicative in structure (L. S . Vygot­
sky, 1934) . He hypothesized that inner speech is a mecha-
Neuropsychological Analysis of Speech 305

nism used by the subj ect for the transition from the initial
conception to an expanded verbal statement . There is rea­
son to suppose that it is precisely inner speech with its
predicative functions that participates in the formation of the
structure or scheme of sentences and that is disturbed in
cases of dynamic aphasia.
The first evidence supporting this hypothesis can be obtained
in an experiment that determines whether patients with dynamic
aphasia are able to find the names of obj ects (nouns) and the
names of actions (verbs) with equal facility . If the predicative
function of speech in these patients is, indeed, disturbed, it will
be far more difficult for them to find the names of actions than
the names of obj ects .
Fifteen patients with dynamic aphasia and 15 control subj ects
participated in this experiment. They were asked to give as
many names of objects and actions as possible within 1 min
(with their eyes closed) .
The controls experienced no perceivable difficulties in
solving either problem, nor were there any marked differ­
ences in the ease with which they found names for obj ects
and actions .
The patients with temporal (sensor) aphasia had serious dif ­
ficulty in naming both obj ects and actions ; moreover, it was
sometimes even less difficult for them to name actions than
obj ects .
The patients with dynamic aphasia can be divided into three
groups . The first group was composed of patients with a syn­
drome of severe dynamic aphasia. They could not find names
of either objects or actions, and instead of providing the re­
quired names produced verbal stereotypes .
The second group was able to find the names of nine or
ten obj ects within 1 min, but could not name even a few
actions .
The third group, made up of patients who showed good re­
covery from dynamic aphasia, exhibited no disorders in the
naming of objects, but experienced marked difficulties in find­
ing the names of actions . The data are given in Table 1.
306 A. R. Luria & L. S. Tzvetkova

Table 1

Finding Names of Objects and Actions in 1 Min

(Average Data from Our Experiments)

Number of Number of
obj ect names action names

Pat�ents with dynamic

aphasia ( 15) 10 . 3 2 .7
Controls ( 15) 30 31

Table 2 presents data obtained from a group of six patients

with dynamic aphasia.

Table 2

Finding Names of Obj ects and Actions :

Group of Patients with Dynamic Aphasia

Number of Number of
obj ect names action nam es

1. Pim . (27237) 10 2
2. Mor . (36309) 8 2
3. Bog. (2472 5) 11 3
4. Kr. (33957) 12 2
5. Ilm . (337 58) 9 4
6. Sklyar . (337 5 5) 12 3
Total 62 16

It is easy to see that it was approximately four times as dif ­

ficult for these patients to find the names of actions (verbs) as
to name obj ects (nouns) .
Below are some examples from our protocols .

Patient Pim . (2 72 37), age 29, student (tumor removed

Neuropsychological Analysis of Speech 307

from the lower part of the posterior area of the left

frontal lobe), with dynamic aphasia.
Ses sion 1 . Finding nam es of obj ects (time - 1 min) .
Ci rcle . . . camel . . . ho rse . . . cow . . . lamb . . . blue . . .
You must name only nouns . " Nouns . . . table . . . circle
. . . sun . . . sky . . . rain . . . ' '
Session 2 . Finding names of actions (time - 1 min) .
"0 . . . how is it . . . go . . . ride in a bus . . . go . . . " [ 0 . . .
kak eto . . . idti . . . yekhat ' na avtobuse . . . poyti . . . ]
Patient Kr. (33957), age 45, bookkeeper (meningioma
removed from the left premotor zone), dynamic aphasia.
Ses sion 1. Finding names of objects (time - 1 min) .
"Horse . . . dog . . . camel . . . duck . . . tree . . . oak . . . pine
. . . maple . . . apple . . . tomatoes . . . cucumber . . . now . . .
earth . . . no, I can 't . . . "
Session 2 . Finding names of actions (time - 1 min) .
"0 . . . (2 5 ") . . . work . . . 0 . . . now (3 5 ") . . . read . . . "
[ Okh . . . rabotat ' . . . 0, seychas . . . chitat' . . . ]
Patient Mor . (36309), age 28, farm worker (hemor ­
rhage i n the region o f the left anterior motor artery),
dynamic aphasia.
Session 1. Finding names of objects .
" . . . yes . . . fog . . . sky . . . oh . . . window . . . door . . .
frame . . . o, yes, frame . . . I can 't . "
Session 2 . Finding names of actions (time - 1 min).
"Oh . . . no (20") . . . o . . . no . . . {30") . . . oh . . . I can't . . . "

The cases examined by us show that patients with dynamic

aphasia exhibit considerable difficulty in finding the names of
actions , and we can confirm that the predicative structure of
their speech is defective .
Is it possible to as sume that this deficiency, which is one of
the fundamental causes of difficulties in the free construction
of phrases, is, at the same time, the most important symptom
in the general picture of dynamic aphasia?
The answer to this question will be given in a series of spe ­
cial experiments .
308 A. R. Luria & L. S. Tzvetkova

Disturbances in the Syntactic Scheme of a Sentence

As we have seen, it may be assumed that difficulties encoun­

tered in naming actions are an expression of more severe dis ­
orders in the predicative form of inner speech .
One of Vygotsky 's hypotheses states that inner speech, abbre ­
viated in structure and predicative in function, i s an important
intermediate stage between the initial conception and its incor ­
poration into an expanded statement . It may be assumed that if
this predicative function of speech is disturbed, an impairment
in the construction of sentences ensues .
Does this actually take place in patients with dynamic apha­
sia? We can come closer to an answer by checking the impedi ­
ments in the active, expanded speech of these patients .
As we have already stated, these defects cannot be wholly
attributed to a disorder in initial concept, which does not ac ­
count for the inability of these patients to enter into an active,
expanded conversation. We can give these patients an initial
concept (for example, a concrete theme on which to compose a
story, such as "The North, " or a picture they are to describe ) ,
but this does not facilitate the task of composing an expanded
statement.
Nor is the cause of these difficulties a disturbance in the out ­
ward expression of speech ; the motor organization of speech
does not cause difficulties for these patients .
We may now return to a deficiency in the predicative function
of internal speech and assume that a result of such a defect may
be disturbance in the linear scheme of a sentence, which is
necessary for the transition from an initial concept to an ex­
panded spoken utterance .
It i s quite probable that patients with dynamic aphasia are not
able to find the sentence scheme necessary for an expanded
spoken utterance . Our patients were not able to arrive at a
preliminary scheme that would potentially contain the informa­
tion on the quantity and sequence of speech elements that were
to make up the phrase . For this reason they were able to utter
individual words by selecting them from all the flowing speech
Neuropsychological Analysis of Speech 309

elements, but were unable to find the necessary scheme of an

expanded spoken sentence .
If this was the cause, we can assume a disturbance in subj ec ­
tive generative grammar, whose mechanism now oc cupies the
attention of many prominent linguists (N. Chomsky, 19 57, and
others) .
How can we verify this hypothesis ?
There are two possible ways: a negative one, and a positive
one .
The first way is to give the patient the individual words that
are necessary for constructing a sentence without giving him
the linear scheme of the sentence . If this is of no help in con­
structing a sentence, we can conclude that the difficulties are
not caused by lack of the necessary words .
In the second way (po sitive) we give the patient the linear
scheme of a sentence without the individual specific words . If
this helps the patient to compose a sentence, we obtain indirect
proof that the absence of a sentence scheme is responsible for
impediments in active expanded speech . Let us describe data
obtained in both experiments .
1 . We gave individual words to patients with a dynamic apha­
sia syndrome and asked them to construct a whole sentence
from them .
As a rule the patients were unable to perform the task . Ei­
ther they attempted to repeat the words or, instead of con ­
structing a new sentence, they reproduced speech stereotypes
in which the given words were included .

Patient Mor . (36309) was given the two words house

and hen and was asked to make a sentence that would in­
clude these words . After a long pause and unsuccessful
efforts he said: "House . . . oh . . . house . . . I can't . . . and
hen . . . house . . . oh, my goodness . . . here is the house . . .
and nothing . . . " [dom . . . o . . . dom . . . ya ne mogu . . . i
kuritza . . . dom . . . o, bozhe moy . . . vot dom . . . i nichego ] .
Patient Bog. (277 15) (meningioma in a lower posterior
area of the left frontal lobe) was given the word to thank,
3 10 A . R. Luria & L. S. T zvetkova

[blagodarit ' ] and in another experiment the word to fly

[ letat ' ] . Both times he was asked to construct a sentence
inc luding one of the two words . For a long time (5-7 min)
he tried to do this, repeating the given word, but was un­
able to form a sentence . He finally recited a fragment
from a well-known poem that contained the words I thank
("For all, for all, I thank you" [ za vse, za vse tebya
blagodaryu ya] ) .
The negative results of these experiments are clear : Patients
with dynamic aphasia are not able to form a sentence even if
individual words are given to them . The task presented to them
cannot induce them to find a scheme for the required sentence ;
the patient is able only t o repeat the individual words, or must
resort to reciting well-established verbal stereotypes .
2 . Let us turn to the second experiment, in which the posi ­
tive procedure was used.
We asked a patient with dynamic aphasia to give a sentence
expressing a wish (I am hungry ; or Give me something to drink)
or formulating a simple graphic situation (a woman cutting
bread; a boy reading a book).
After the patient demonstrated his inability to compose an
expanded sentence, a series of counters was placed on a table .
None of the counters carried any additional information, but the
number of counters in a row corresponded to the number of
words in the requi red sentence .
This type of experiment gave the patient the external linear
scheme of a sentence without presenting any specific words .
The results of this experiment were striking . A patient who
had previously been incapable of constructing an expanded sen ­
tenc e was able to accomplish this task by touching each con­
secutive counter with his finger; when the counters were taken
away, he was again helpless.
The linear structure scheme given the patient thus became
a means of compensating for the original defect . Let us look
at some examples .
Patient Mor . (36309 ), who had a very distinct form of
Neuropsychological Analysis of Speech 3 11

dynamic aphasia, was able to name obj ects easily and to

repeat words and short sentences, but was unable to utter
a coherent statement or employ speech in spontaneous
communication . When he was asked a question, he re ­
peated it mechanically, but was unable to find the phrase
required for an answer . When he was shown a picture of
a horse and wagon filled with hay and asked to relate its
contents he responded: "Oh . . . yes . . . oh, the devil . . . a
horse . . . and what else ? . . . oh, the devil! "
When three counters were placed before him and he was
asked to compose a sentence by pointing to each of the
counters, he pointed to them saying:
''The horse t pulls t the wagon t " [Loshad' t vezet
telegu t ] .
When four counters were placed before him and he was
asked to relate what farm workers do in the country, he
pointed successively to each of the counters and said:
"The farm workers t haul t hay t with t horses t "
[ Kol' khozniki t perevozyat t seno t na t loshadyakh t ] •

When, however, the counters were taken away and the

patient was asked to answer the question again, he was
unable to do so and unsuccessfully attempted to find the
required words . He was asked to use counters. He took
separate bits of white paper, placed four of them in a
row, and, pointing to each of them, composed the sentence:
"The trucks -haul-the grain-to the barn" [Gruzoviki ­
vezut-khleb-k sapayu ] . Then he took one more counter
and added: "and to market" [i na rynok ] .
He attempted unsucces sfully to compose a sentence on
the weather in exactly the same way :
"The weather • .oh, what is this
• the weather . . . no
• • . " . • .

[ Pogoda . . . o, chto eto pogoda

. . • .net. •] However, • . . .

after taking three counters, he said, pointing to them :

"The weather -today -is splendid!" [ Pogoda segodnya
prekrasanya! ] .
The patient was asked to re late the contents of the pie -
ture "The Boy in the forest. " He said: "The boy (long
3 12 A. R. Luria & L . S. Tzvetkova

pause) • the for est . . . no

• • I can't." • • •

He was given several counters, which he placed on the

table, and pointing to each of them, said, "The boy • • •

went into the forest to gather mushrooms

. • • and lost • • •

his way •He cried

. . and climbed a tree , etc ." [ Mal '
• • •

chik poshel v les •za gribami

• • i poteryal 'sya •on • • • . •

krichal •i zalez na dervo i t.d. ]

• •

We have demonstrated a technique for restoring speech with

the aid of external supports that give form to the linear scheme
of a sentenc e.
It is unnecessary to review other experiments with patients
exhibiting the syndrome of dynamic aphasia: all the patients
in our group , which represented varying degrees of dynamic
aphasia, presented an analogous picture . We can thus conclude
that this experiment was a positive proof of our hypothesis.
The chief disturbance in dynamic aphasia can hence be de ­
sc ribed as a loss of the linear scheme of a sentence, which, as
far as we know, may be the result of dis ruption of inner speech ,
abbreviated in form and predicative in function.
Strengthening a Linear Sentence Scheme
and Overcoming Preseverations
The restoration of a linear sentence scheme by means of ex­
ternal supports has an additional result that we cannot over­
estimate . This technique is an important aid in overcoming the
pathological inertness of verbal stereotypes or verbal per­
severations, which are typical of speech disorders from injury
to the anterior brain area.
As has already been noted by one of the authors (A. R. Luria,
1962, 1963) and verified by a series of animal expe riments, in­
jury to the anterior brain area has a double consequence : in
animals the complex and elaborate programs of action are dis ­
turbed, and, in addition, the complex motor stereotypes becom e
pathologically inert .
The same is observable i n speech pathology: injury to the
posterior area of the left frontal lobe leads to marked per-
Neuropsychological Analysis of Speech 3 13

severations in expressive speech, and we have every reason to

suppose that motor perseverations are one of the most impor­
tant mechanisms in the so-called efferent or kinetic form of
motor aphasia (A. R. Luria, 1947, 1963, and others) .
Pathological perseverations are especially clearly manife sted
in cases of dynamic aphasia when injury to the premotor zone
affects subcortical motor ganglia.
In these cases, which result in efferent motor aphasia, dis ­
ruption of active speech i s associated with especially distinct
perseveration after a word has been uttered.
One of the most important findings is that in these cases the
restoration of a linear sentence scheme by means of external
supports has a dual result: it restores the possibility of ex­
panded speech and enables the patient to overcome pathological
perseverations . Here is an illustration:

Patient Os . (29558), age 47 (tumor with cyst removed

from left premotor zone) . The patient 's movements were
"de -automatized, " and his speech was severely disturbed .
Spontaneous speech was profoundly disordered, and he
was incapable of uttering a series of words even mechan­
ically (counting, verse recitation, etc . ) . He could give an
echolalic repetition of one of two words ; but when a large
series of words was presented to him, he was unable to
repeat them, because of perseveration of the first word.
Active speech was impossible . He was unable to give an
expanded answer to a question, although his understanding
of the question remained unimpaired .
Tell me, please, about your condition . "Oh, yes . . . it
is . . . oh, darn it . yes
• • . • "• [ Okh . . . da . . . eto tak . . . o
chert voz 'mi . . . da. ]
What kind of work do you do ? "Oh, yes . . . it is . . . no
. . . " [ Akh, da . . . eto tak . . . net . . . ]
The patient was shown a stick and instructed to ask
someone to give it to him .
"Oh . . . sgi . . . sgiv . . . sgivesteck [ Akh . . . z d . . . da . . .
zdar . . . z darushku ] . (Contamination: instead of saying
3 14 A. R. Luria & L . S . Tzvetkova

"Give me the stick" [ dayte ruchku ] , the patient inter­

changed the two words in speaking.)
The patient was given external supports (two pieces of
white paper), which were plac ed on a table at a distance
of 15 cm from each other . He was asked to touch each
piece and say the required sentence . He said: "Give the
stick" [ day . . . ruchku ] . No perseveration or contamina­
tion was noticeable .
The external supports were taken away, and the patient
was asked to repeat the same sentence: "Givestick . . . oh,
no, oh . . . my goodness . . . sgi vstig . . . oh the devil . . . "
[ Zdarushku . . . o . . . net . . . o . . . bozhe moy . . . zdarus 'k . . .
o chert . . . ] .

As we have noted, in this case the external support method

had a dual result: it restored a linear sentence scheme and,
at the same time, helped to overcome pathological inertness .
We have given some examples of the reorganizing role of ex­
ternal supports in the organization of behavior, which one of
the authors demonstrated many years ago in a series of experi ­
ments (A. R. Luria, 1932, 1948).

Attempts at a Physiological Analysis

of the Above Findings

We have demonstrated the role of external supports in the

restoration of a linear sentence scheme, which is lacking in
patients with dynamic aphasia, and in overcoming pathological
inertness in the speech system . Would it now be feasible to
make a few attempts at a physiological analysis of the facts
given and the mechanisms underlying dynamic aphasia?
Let us reconstruct the mechanisms of speech disorder in
this form of aphasia. As has already been noted, we have every
reason to believe that the fundamental mechanism of dynamic
aphasia is a disturbance in inner speech and its predicative
functions . We may even suppose that in this case the transi ­
tion from an initial concept to a linear sentence structure i s
Neuropsycho logical Analysis of Speech 3 15

impaired . Is it possible to verify this in a more direct way ?

Can we actually demonstrate that in this form of aphasia the
transition from an initial concept to speech activity is indeed
disturbed ?
Further experiments are necessary to get closer to the phys ­
iological mechanism of this phenomenon. It is well known that
every intention ensures preliminary preparation for action and
that preliminary preparation for a required action is necessary
if the action is to be successfully performed .
In speech activity such preliminary preparation can be seen
in changes in the electromyograms (EMGs) of the speech appa­
ratus in the form of alterations in the initial background of
tongue and lip electromyograms during the preparatory period
for speech . This has been demonstrated by several authors
(Bassin & Beyn, 1957) .
C an we use this technique for our purposes ?
Is it possible to show that the disturbances in the transition
from an initial concept to speech that we observed in c ases of
dynamic aphasia were physiologic ally concentrated in the motor
output into actual speech or, on the other hand, that they blocked
the process in the preceding stages, when the transition from
an initial concept to speech had not yet occurred ? In addition,
is it possible to show the kinds of changes that can be recorded
when we use the above -desc ribed external support method and
when the initial restoration of linear sentence structure opens
the way to verbalization of a initial conc ept ? We employed a
technique described earlier by the above -mentioned authors
(Bassin & Beyn, 1957) .
E lectromyograms of the lower lip (which are indicative even
for a latent speech process) were recorded for patients with
dynamic aphasia. This experiment was carried out both in
cases in which the patients were not able to construct a sen­
tence and in cases in which they were able to overcome this
difficulty by means of external representation of a linear sen­
tence structure .
The patient was asked to prepare for a verbal response with ­
out reproducing aloud the required sentence, and in both cases
3 16 A . R. Luria & L. S. Tzvetkova

EMGs of the lower lip were recorded with an Al 'var electro ­

encephalograph .
It was quite evident in the c ase of a patient with dynamic
aphasia who tried to express a thought verbally that no changes
in the background EMG were noticeable .
This i s proof that in these patients disturbances do not occur
in the motor stage itself, but that the delay in speech impulses
is localized in the preliminary stage of the process . In the
second c ase, however, in which external supports were used to
restore a linear sentence structure, the EMG underwent appre ­
ciable changes .
In this case an intention to utter a sentence results in sharp
changes in the background EMG; and separate EMG outbursts,
whose magnitudes correspond to the individual components of the
sentence in preparation, occur. It is clear that external supports
open a pathway for impulses from the speech -motor apparatus .
The data we have presented indicate that an important ad­
vance in physiological analysis of the mechanisms of dynamic
aphasia is possible . The findings admit the hypothetical pos -
sibility that a disturbance in inner speech, with its predicative
functions, is typical of dynamic aphasia; that this disturbance
leads to disturbance of the mechanism of transition from an
initial concept to a linear sentence structure, which, in turn,
renders impossible preliminary excitation of the speech-motor
apparatus ; and that a defect in active sentence construction i s
the result o f such disturbances.
One hundred years ago Jackson advanced his well -known view
that "To speak is to 'propositionize ' "; and 50 years ago Ger ­
man neurologists made the first inroads into the study of dy ­
namic aphasia. Previously, dynamic aphasia has been re ­
garded as a unique form of aphasia "without aphasia." Only
now, through the combined efforts of neuropsychological, lin­
guistic, and physiological analyses, has it been possible to take
the first steps toward a description of its mechanism .
Conclusions
A lesion of the anterior section of the speech zone of the left
Neuropsychological Analysis of Speech 3 17

hemisphere leads to a specific speech disorder that may be

c alled dynamic aphasia. Patients with this type of disorder re ­
tain speech comprehension and have no difficulty in uttering in­
dividual words . They readily understand speech, can name ob­
j ects, and can repeat isolated words and short sentences ; but
they cannot employ speech for communication and are unable
to construct a sentence .
For many years the mechanisms of this disorder in struc ­
tured speech have been unknown. The authors of the present
report have attempted to analyze the mechanisms underlying
dynamic aphasia. They have demonstrated that patients with
this disorder c an name obj ects with ease, but have difficulty
in naming actions , and that the predicative functions of speech
are disturbed.
This suggests the hypothesis that the chief factor in this form
of aphasia is associated with disturbance in inner speech, ab ­
breviated in structure and predicative in function. This funda­
mental disorder results in disruption in linear sentence struc ­
ture and in blocking the transition from an initial conc ept to a
spoken sentence .
The hypothesis was tested in an experiment in which the pa­
tients were provided with a linear sentence structure by means
of external supports, which restored the capacity to construct
sentence s . Electromyographic recordings showed that this ex­
ternal support method relieved the blocking of the speech in­
nervation necessary for restoring active speech .

References

Bassin, F. V . , & Beyn, E . S. (0 primenenii elektromiografi ­

cheskoy metodiki v issledovanii rechi ] [Materialy sove ­
shchaniya po psikhologii ] . Moscow, 19 57.
Chomsky, N. Syntactic structures . The Hague, 19 57.
Kleist, K. Die alogischen Denkstorungen. Arch . Psychiat .
Nervenkr . , 1930, 90.
Kleist, K. Gehirnpafuologie. Leipzig, 1934.
Luria, A. R. The nature of human conflicts . New York, 1932 .
3 18 A . R. Luria & L. S . Tzvetkova

Luria, A . R. [T raumatic aphasia ] . Moscow, 1947.

Luria, A . R. [Restoration of brain function following combat
injury ] . Moscow, 1948 .
Luria, A . R. [ Higher human cortical functions ] . Moscow, 1962 .
Luria, A . R. [The human brain and mental proc esses ] . Mos ­
cow, 1963 .
Pick, A . Studien iiber motorische Aphasie . Vienna, 190 5 .
Vygotsky, L . S. [Thought and speech ] . Moscow, 1934.

Translated by
Michel Vale
A . R. Luria, N. K . Kiyashchenko,
L. I. Moskovichyute, T . 0. Faller,
and N. A . Fillippycheva

SYNDROME S OF MNEMONIC DISORDERS

AC COMPANYING DIENCE PHALIC TUMORS

Recent neurophysiologic al, pharmacological, and clinical psy ­

chological studies have convincingly demonstrated the relation­
ship between the gross memory disorders first described by
S . S. Korsakov [1 ] and lesions of the medial Papez structures
of the brain [2 -6 ] .
Papez ' s circuit (the hippoc ampal circuit) includes, in addi­
tion to the hippocampus its elf, the mammillary bodies, the Vicq
d 'Azyr mammillothalamic bundle, fibers from the anterior nu­
c leus of the optical thalamus projecting to the frontal cortex,
the septal nuc lei, the fornix, and the links between these struc ­
tures, which pass through the corpus callosum . It should be
noted that, generally speaking, these structures play an impor­
tant role in emotional and autonomic responses, regulation of
homeostasis, tonic activation of the cortex, regulation of the
level of alertness, and orienting responses [7, 8 ] . In other
words, one of the functions of these structures is to supply the
energy necessary for mental proc esses to take plac e . C linical
p sychological studies [ 2 -4 ] have shown that patients with lesions
of structures encompassed by Papez 's circuit did not suffer from

F rom Zhurnal nevropatologii i psychiatrii imeni S. S.

Korsakova, 1973, 73( 12 ) , 1853 - 58 .

3 19
320 A. R. Luria et al.

apraxias, agnosias , speech disorders, or disorders of complex

cognitive processes . The syndrome of focal lesions of the me­
dial brain structures consisted of mnemonic disorders, fre ­
quently accompanied by disorders in the regulation of emotional
and autonomic responses [ 9, 10 ] . This observation gave the
impres sion that the memory disorders accompanying different
foc al lesions in Papez 's circuit were all of the same type, al­
though the various c linical syndromes in which they appeared
differed . We have studi ed the significance of the different parts
of Papez 's circuit in the organization of memory proc esses and
the specific contributions made by lesions of each structure of
this sy stem in the development of amnestic clinical syndromes .
To stimulate the discus sion of these disorders we made a com ­
parison between them and neurophysiological data on the func ­
tional state of the brain .
The present article presents the results of a study of 48 pa­
tients with foc al lesions of only one part of Papez 's circuit,
namely, the diencephalic region (cases of pituitary adenoma
with supe rretrocellar growth, craniopharyngeoma, and tumors
of the third ventricle ) . For our analysis we chose patients who
displayed no signs of intrac ranial hypertension and for whom it
was accordingly possible to link these disorders with the local
influence of the pathological lesion in the diencephalic structures
as well as with their functional state . All our observations were
verified by surgery or autopsy .

To explore the nature of memory disorders accompany ­

ing lesions of different parts of the hippocampal circuit
we worked out a sy stem of c linical psychological exami ­
nations that inc luded the following: ( 1) recall of elemen­
tary sensory stimuli (a modification of Konorsky 's meth ­
od) ; (2 ) recall of a series of isolated terms addressed to
the visual, auditory, and motor analyzers (sequences of
words , pictures of obj ects, geometric figures, and se ­
quences of finger positions ) ; and (3) recall of semantic
structures (sentences, narrations) . The conditions sur ­
rounding the recall of this material varied: w e compared
Mnemonic Disorders Ac companying Diencephalic Tumors 32 1

direct recall, recall after an empty pause, i . e ., an interval

(2 · min) containing nothing to recall, and rec all after a
pause in which some task had to be perfarmed as a diver ­
sion . This task could be either of a different type from
the material to be memorized (i . e ., addressed to another
sensory modality) or similar to the initial material either
in its characteristics or in the direction of its recall (homo­
geneous interferenc e) . It is known that an experimental
situation is most difficult for a subj ect when, after rec all­
ing one series of elements , he must recall a second se­
ries, analogous to the first, after which he must again re ­
collect the first series. If two sets of such material are
alike in both the type of material and the direction of the
recall, favorable conditions are created for detecting
deficiencies in memorization and retrieval. It is charac ­
teristic that the influence of interferenc e on the memory
trac es of preceding experience, an influence associated
with retroactive inhibition, is also involved in some way
in forgetting in normal persons [ 11 ] . Earlier investiga­
tions have shown that this type of experimental task should
be able to detect even very well conc ealed memory dis ­
orders [4 ] .
A second part of the study consisted in compiling an ex­
tensive record of different physiological indices: electro ­
encephalograms (E EGs), rheoencephalograms (REOs),
elec tromyograms (EMGs), pneumoencephalograms (PE Gs),
the galvanic skin reflex (GSR), and respiration, all of which
together p rovided a good general idea of the state of the
connections between the brain stem and the cortex, the
regulation of cerebral circulation, and the state of the
functional system responsible for voluntary movements.
These indices were recorded together with a multiple
study of memory proc esses in a c linical psychological
experiment . It was necessary to make a second study of
memory processes in each patient because of the pecu ­
liarities of tumor development, which was accompanied
by fluctuations in the patients ' overall functional state .
322 A. R. Luria et al.

Patients with lesions in the dienc ephalic region displayed a

quite distinct picture of memory disorders, which was not spe ­
cific to any particular modality, i . e . , it affected visual, auditory,
and somatosensory traces equally . Also, the disorders were
always particularly distinct when some interferenc e was intro ­
duc ed . Finally, in cases in which the memory disorders were
quite gross, they were manifest regardless of the extent of se­
mantic organization of the material to be memorized, but as a
rule were not accompanied by active confabulations or any im ­
pairment in the structure of memory patterns .
Our case material was broken down into four groups ac cord ­
ing to the severity and distinctive characteristics of the memory
disorders and the clinical physiological syndrome of which they
were a part . All degrees of memory disorder, from rapid fa­
tigue to a gross amnestic syndrome with impaired conscious ­
ness, were represented .
It is noteworthy that in some of the patients with rather large
diencephalic tumors, mnemonic processes were largely intact,
indicating that the neural structures in this region were still
largely in good functional order. These patients constituted
group one . They were still readily acces sible to communica­
tion, were completely oriented, and were still emotionally flex­
ible, or at times somewhat disinhibited . They had no subj ec tive
complaints of memory disorders and performed all tasks flaw­
lessly . The clinic al picture inc luded visual and endocrine and
metabolic di sorders, with no signs of a pathological influenc e
of the lesion on the brain stem .
The second group included patients with an asthenic syndrome
and mild memory disorders that were more conspicuous the
larger the amount of material to be memorized . However, these
difficulties were relatively easily overcome by added verbal
promptings . These patients typically displayed fluctuations in
their condition, with signs of exhaustion during the course of
one examination and for even longer periods of time. Subj ec ­
tively the patients were troubled by heightened fatigabi lity,
weakness, and periodic drowsiness; and they sometimes com ­
plained of memory impairment . They were completely oriented
Mnemonic Disorders Accompanying Diencephalic Tumors 323

in space and time and to the nature of their illness . Their

emotional responses were completely appropriate to the situa­
tion or were somewhat disinhibited. The extent of endocrine
and metabolic disorders was the same as in the first group, and
they showed no signs of pathological influenc es on the brain­
stem structure s .
E E G abnormalities for the first and second groups were
similar: irritative changes were usually recorded against a
background of more or less regular alpha rhythm (frequency
9 - 10/ sec ) with a pronounced depression in response to light;
peaked waves, epi -complexes, and beta waves were manifest,
and theta waves were usually recorded from the anterior sec ­
tions of the brain .
The third group inc luded patients with distinct memory dis ­
orders having characteristics of an amnestic syndrome, vary­
ing in prominenc e in the individual case . Memory disorders
were evident even with an ordinary amount of material to be
memorized, and regardless of the level of semantic organiza­
tion of the latter (i.e . , whether two sequences of three words
each, two sentenc es, or two short narrations were to be mem­
orized ) . However, added promptings did improve recall . Fluc ­
tuations in the general state and in the level of memory disor­
ders were more pronounced and covered a wide range from one
day to the next; it was especially typical that these fluctuations
would occur during the course of the same investigation, and
even during the course of one assignment . In the latter case,
improvem ents were not spontaneous, but were effected by giv­
ing added instructions or by offering emotional encouragement .
The clinical picture of these patients featured a considerable
reduction in activity, languor, adynamia, and heightened fatiga­
bility . Often the patients would lie passively for whole days on
end without even reading or listening to the radio . Emotional
responses were monotonic and flattened; the patients were un­
able to sustain an adequate concern for their illness, and often
underestimated its gravity . Even their rare confabulations
were not spontaneously offered, but given only in response to
a specific question . They were never extended, emotionally
324 A. R. Luria et al.

charged, or productive . Orientation in space and time varied in

accuracy . Sometimes changes in sleep patterns were observed .
In contrast to groups one and two, this group sometimes di s ­
played symptoms of damage to the brain stem (paresis of the
upward gaze, patho logical reflexes ) . The EEG abnormalities of
these patients at different stages in the investigation were poly ­
morphous . All featured a reduction in the duration of depres­
sion of alpha activity in response to different stimuli, inc luding
light stimuli . It is noteworthy that almost all the patients showed
a prolongation of the depression brought about by a light stimu ­
lus if the latter was presented against a background of another
stimulus , especially one that was randomly chosen. This obser­
vation is in line with the improvement noted in recall after ver­
bal prompting or after changi ng the amount of material to be
memorized.
The fourth group of patients included those with the most gross
and stable impairments of memory for current events and, to a
certain extent, for past events . Recall deficiencies were appar ­
ent even if only one word or sentence was to be memorized, re ­
gardless of whether the interfering task was homogeneous or
heterogeneous . There were some fluctuations in the condition
of memory within the same investigation and from investigations
on one day to those on the next . Usually neither verbal prompt­
ing nor a change in the instructions produced any notable im ­
provement in mnemonic functions ; indeed, they often led to an
aggravation of the memory deficiency and inhibition of the pa­
tient . An amnestic syndrome was always accompanied by dis ­
turbed consciousness, with disorientation i n time and plac e and,
especially, gross disorientation in the patient 's awareness of
his own illness (often the patient would show not even the least
sign of awareness of his inauspicious phy sic al condition ) . Per ­
sistent and quite monotonic emotional changes and rapid mental
fatigue were observed . This group of patients also displayed
symptoms of a brain-stem lesion in the mesencephalon and
rhombencephalon. The EEG changes in patients of the third and
fourth groups were both especially polymorphous . A marked
reduction in the alpha-rhythm time was combined with the ap -
Mnemonic Disorders Accompanying Diencephalic Tumors 32 5

pearance of long periods of generalized brain -stem bursts,

which could be suppressed by supplementary afferent stimuli .
The responses in the various electrophysiologic al and auto­
nomic parameters to indifferent stimuli and cue stimuli showed
a wide range of variations that correlated in magnitude with the
depth of the mnemonic disorders . The depression of a normal
flow of afferent impulses into the cerebral cortex from nonspe ­
cific structures of the brain stem increased in proportion to the
extent of memory disorders, and in the last group of patients
was combined with pathological influenc es from the brain stem .
It is conc eivable that the combination of these pathophysiological
factors produced the depression of excitation in the cortex and
in the cerebral hemispheres as a whole . The clinical expre ssion
of this was the different degrees of memory disorders and dis ­
orders of consciousness .
Observations showing the entire range of mnemonic disorders
(corresponding to the four groups described above) in one patient
are especially interesting within the context of the functional
role of the diencephalon in the organization of memory .

Patient C . , 34 years old, had been hospitalized at the

Institute of Neurosurgery of the USSR Academy of Medi ­
c al Sciences for a cystic tumor of the third ventricle.
The first time (March 197 1) dysmenorrhea, thirst, obe ­
sity, and disturbed sleep patterns were noted, in addition
to indi stinct temporal hypopsia and slightly reduced mus ­
c le tone . The fundus oculi was normal, and c erebrospinal
fluid pressure was 170 mm H 2 0. The EEG showed gener ­
alized abnormalities: a reduction in the amplitude of brain
waves, disturbances in the basal rhythm, and slight irrita­
tion of the cortex. There were synchronous groups of
theta waves in the frontal regions . A neuropsychological
study showed no signs of agnosia, apraxia, speech disor­
ders, or impairment of cognitive processes; the patient
was fully oriented in time and plac e . The personality of
the patient was intact, she had insight into her illness, and
her emotions were only slightly blunted . She complained
326 A. R. Luria et al.

of memory impairment ( "I used to have a good, quick mem ­

ory, but now I'm forgetful" ) . A special study of her mem ­
ory processes di sclosed some specific abnormalities: A
routine experiment revealed no di sorder of memory ; the
impairment appeared under specific circumstanc es, either
when the volume of the material to be memorized was in ­
c reased (for example, when three narrations were given
instead of two, as a result of which one was forgotten ) ,
when the recall period was extended (after memorizing
nine of ten words, the patient remembered four words on
the next day, but on the second day was unable even to re­
member the test ) , or when the specific memory as sign­
ment was eliminated (i .e ., the patient was asked to recall
at will any randomly remembered material ) . The extent
of memory impairment varied from day to day, and
prompting helped recall .
In June 197 1 the patient again was admitted to the insti ­
tute because of a deterioration in her condition: she began
to have severe headaches, debility and fatigue inc reased,
and she became drowsy . Her range of interests narrowed,
and she stopped reading . Her insight into her illness di ­
minished and emotional flatness inc reased . Hypomimia
and adynamia were evident . Signs of aspontaneity and in­
activity appeared, which, however, were not persistent, but
varied over the course of the day or even within shorter
intervals of time. Hand tremor, bitemporal hypopsia, and
signs of congestion in the fundus oculi appeared . The
EEGs showed a general marked slowing of rhythm and a
predominance of slow activity in the temporal leads . Ven­
triculography with "myodil" showed a tuberous filling de ­
fect in the third ventric le, which narrowed the space it
occupied. The outflow from the third ventricle was en­
cumbered . We therefore decided to perform a ventriculo ­
cisternostomy .
A neuropsychiatric examination done before the opera­
tion showed that the higher cortical functions were still
intact but that the aggravation of hypertensive phenomena
Mnemonic Disorders Accompanying Diencephalic Tumors 327

and the local influence of the tumor on the hypothalamic

sections of the brain were accompanied by a worsening of
emotional and mnemonic disturbances . Memory studies
showed that interference had led to contaminations, or to
total obliteration, of memory trac es . These symptoms
were even more conspicuous when sentenc es and narra­
tives were used as the test material: extremely gross
contaminations appeared of which the patient herself was
unaware . She began to forget events that had just occurred.
The state of her memory began to fluctuate over a wide
range from day to day, and she would become quickly ex­
hausted even during a single test . A new task presented
after a short period would liven her up somewhat. On one
day she would recall two sequences of three wo rds after
one presentation, or after three presentations if there had
been interference from a counting task .
Several days later she would recall the same two se­
quences of three words after one presentation, but after
a counting task she would remember only three words .
The second time she could not remember a single word
after counting, and on the fifth repetition after counting,
she even denied that she had ever performed the task . The
same thing occurred in the recital of narratives: direct
recall of one narrative (about a chicken laying a golden
egg) and then another narrative (about a c row that tossed
pebbles into j ars so as to be able to drink himself full on
hot days) caused the patient no memory difficulties, but
it was impossible for her to recollect a previously re­
called narrative . This is how she then remembered the
first tale : "The sun shone down on the j ars containing
the golden eggs . The j ars heated up and the eggs floated
to the top . . . . "
In September 19 7 1 the patient was admitted to the insti ­
tute for the third time, because of a sudden deterioration
in her condition. She had become apathetic, adynamic ,
and had almost constant headaches. She experienced brief
los ses of consciousnes s . There was distinct right -side
328 A. R. Luria et al.

hypopsia, with gross paresis of the upward gaze and pro ­

nounced choking of the optic al discs. Efferent nerves were
paretic on both sides . Bulbar disorders were sometimes
manifest . There were pyramidal signs in the form of
weakness in the limbs on the left side, central paresis of
the 7th and 12th nerves on the left side, Babinski 's sign
on the left, and Oppenheim ' s sign on both sides. Finger
tremor appeared, and at times a grasping reflex occurred.
Her condition fluctuated: the patient was sometimes apa­
thetic and adynamic, and at other times concerned about
her condition. She was oriented in place, but not always
in time . As her condition deteriorated, the patient would
quickly fall asleep if left to herself. But she could be eas ­
ily awakened, after which she would answer questions in
monosyllables. By this time her memo ry was extremely
impaired (without confabulations ), but her rapid fatigabil ­
ity made i t impossible to test her memory proc esses.
All attempts to increase the patient 's alertness so that
the experiment could be performed we re unsuccessful .

From this case description it is evident that the four types of

memory disorders found in different patients with diencephalic
lesions c an also occur in the same patient at different stages in
the development of the pathological process .
Thus, in diencephalic tumors, the memory impairments are
not specific to a particular memory modality . They are deter­
mined basically by the extent to which memory traces are path ­
ologic ally suppressed by interfering factors.
The range of memory disorders i s very wide, from inconspic -
uous impairments to full-blown syndromes similar to the Kor­
sakov syndrome . It is therefore pos sible to distinguish among
c linical types of disorders, differing in the severity of the mem ­
ory disorder and in the particular physiological changes in their
c linical picture . The extent of memory disorders does not de­
pend on the size and site of the dienc ephalic tumor, but is as ­
sociated with the stage of development of the pathological pro­
cess and the functional state of the involved brain areas.
Mnemonic Disorders Accompanying Diencephalic Tumors 329

The described memory disorders appear in conjunction with

general disturbanc es in the level of alertness and consciousne ss
and are to a considerable extent correlated with c linical and
neurophysiological symptoms of depres sion of the asc ending
activating system of the brain stem .

References

1. Korsakov, S . S. [ Morbid di sorders of memory and their

diagnosis ] . Moscow, 1890 .
2 . Popova, L . T . [ Memory and memo ry disorders in focal
brain lesions ] . Moscow, 1972 .
3 . Luria, A . R . , et al. [Memory disorders in the c linical
pic ture of aneury sm of the anterior commi ssural artery ] .
Moscow, 1970.
4 . Kiyashchenko, N. K. [ Memory disorders in loc al brain
lesions ] . Moscow, 19 73 .
5 . Sc ovill, W . , & Millmer, B. J . Neurol . Neurosurg. Psy ­
chiat . , 19 57, 2 0 , 1 1 .
--
- 6 . Milner�B . In C . Whitty & 0. Zangeill (E ds . ) , Amnesia.
London, 1966 . P. 109 .
7 . Sokolov, E . N . In [ The orienting reflex and orienting­
investigatory activity ] . Moscow, 19 58 . P . 1 1 1 .
8 . Bekhterev, N. P . [The physiology and pathophysiology
of the deep structures of the human brain ] . Moscow- Lenin­
grad, 196 7 .
9 . Bragina, N. N . In [ Deep structures of the human brain
under normal and pathological conditions ] . Moscow- Lenin­
grad, 1966. P . 3 1 .
10 . Filippycheva, N . A . , & Faller, T . 0 . In [Materials of the
5th All -Union C onferenc e of Neuropathologi sts and Psychia­
trists ] . Moscow, 19 69. Vo l . 1, p. 2 70 .
� Smirnov, A . A . [ P sychology of memorization ] . Mos ­
cow, 1948 .
A. R. Luria, E . N. Pravdina-Vinarskaya,
and A. L . Iarbus

EYE -MOVEMENT ME CHANISMS IN

NORMAL AND PATHOLOGICAL VISION
(Simultaneous Agnosia and Optical Ataxia)

The psychological, psychophysiological, and neurological lit ­

erature has long since taken note o f the intimate relationship
that exists between visual perception of obj ects and their de ­
pictions and eye movements .
We know that the region of the macula lutea, where receptors
are concentrated at maximum density, i s the area that trans ­
mits maximal information and that most accurately carries out
organized and differentiated vision. Therefore, in order to ac ­
quire maximal information, the eye i s compelled always to move
to a position in which the retinal image of the portion of the ob­
j ect under examination is in this central portion of the retina.
This shifting of the central visual field to points bearing maxi ­
mal information constitutes the reflex activity of the eye, which
begins with a signal received by the retinal periphery, and i s
carried out by means o f a system o f visual motor reactions
arising in response to these signals .
Visual analysis, which consists of a continuous process of
singling out the points bearing maximal information and subse­
quent synthesis of them, requires a system consisting of at
least two stimulated points : one on the periphery of the retina,

From Voprosy psikhologii, 196 1, No . 5.

330
Eye Movements in Normal and Pathological Vision 33 1

serving as source of the signals that promote further eye motion

and have the function of orientation, and the other in the central
portion of the retina, ac cepting and transmitting differentiated
visual information .
In light of these facts, fundamental interest attaches to those
forms of visual pathology in which the visual cortex (to the de­
gree that its cells are in a state of pathological weakness) is in­
capable of providing reception of the above-mentioned system of
visual signals . In the words of Pavlov ( 1949), the visual co rtex
"is capable of dealing simultaneously with a single stimulated
point, and all other points are as though they did not exist . . . . "
In these cases the initial limitation of the capacity of visual re­
ception necessarily leads to p rofound disturbances of visual
movements, of the "optical ataxia" type; and the normal process
of visual perception is severely disturbed .
C ases of this type have been described repeatedly in the neu ­
rological literature under the names of "narrowing of visual at ­
tention" (Ho lmes, 19 19), "simultaneous agnosia" (Wolpert, 1924),
"fragmentary perception" (Paterson & Zangwill, 1944), and
others . A similar case of injury to the occipital co rtex, which
results in the subj ect ' s being able to perceive only a single ob ­
j ect at a time (regardless of its size), has recently been de ­
scribed by one of the present authors (Luria, 1959) . A distinc ­
tive feature of such cases i s that, simultaneously with the nar­
rowing of visual perception in all these patients, "visual ataxia"
is observed or, more precisely, a disorder of visual-motor co ­
ordination and an inability to shift vision to points bearing maxi ­
mal information and actively to analyze the obj ect, image, or
entire situation seen (Balint, 1909 ; Hecaen & Ajuriaguerra,
1954; and Luria, 1959) .
The connection between the narrowing of visual perception to
a single element and disturbances in the active analyzing move ­
ments involved in centering one ' s gaze i s of fundamental signif­
icance to an understanding of the functional structure of visual
perception. Therefore, analy sis of this connection - by means
of the most exact methods available - may be of significant in­
terest. We shall therefore consider that problem and trace the
 332 Luria, Pravdina-Vinarskaya, & Iarbus

nature of the disturbance of the visual act in various for ms of

damage to the c entral visual apparatus .

C linical medicine is familiar with case s in which, as a result

of damage to the visual nerve or the visual conducting pathways,
the field of vision narrows sharply . Various hemianopsias and
concentric narrowings of the visual field, sometimes reaching
the stage of what is called tunnel vision, fall in this category . If
the visual cortex remains intact under these conditions, the pa­
tient is in a position to perc eive - in the remaining visual field
- an entire system of simultaneous visual stimuli . The remain­
ing visual field is even capable of experiencing a certain func -
. tional reorganization, with the production of a new "functional
macula" (Gelb & Goldstein, 192 0). In such cases the tracking
movements of the eye not only are preserved intact but begin to
serve as the principal means of compensation for the visual defect.
The following will serve as illustration .

Since 1955, patient D. has been troubled by constant

frontotemporal headaches and impaired vision. The diag­
nosis was optochiasmal arachnoiditis ; and on February 15,
1956, the patient underwent surgery (parting of the arach ­
noidal commissures in the optochiasmal region) .
Examination of the patient 's vision now reveals the fol­
lowing. Visual acuity of both eyes: 0.4 with correction .
Visual field: markedly concentric, narrowing to 10° from
the point of focus (both eyes). Capable of discriminating
colored obj ects . Fundus: optic papilla somewhat pale,
with borders not quite clear-cut; arteries very narrow,
sclerotic . Despite the fact that the visual field is confined
to 10° (tunnel vision), the patient is capable of orienting
herself completely in space, perceiving obj ects, images,
and pictures on various subj ects . She continues to work
as an archivist, reads, writes, moves in the streets with ­
out assistance, and does housework . She compensates for
Eye Movements in Normal and Pathological Vision 333

her visual defect by tracking movements of the eyes,

which continue to be wholly organized in nature, and are
capable of being recorded.

The method of recording eye movements employed in this

case was that deve loped by one of the authors of this article
(Iarbus, 1956) . It consists of attaching a device to the anesthe ­
tized temporal portion of the sclera, which records the eye
movements . This device consi sts of a rubber suction cup to
which a tiny mirror is glued. The light beam impinging on the
mirror from a light source records the eye movement on mov ­
ing photographic paper.
Recordings made by this method showed that patient D. had
retained the tracking movements of the eye and that they did not
differ from the normal. Figure 1 shows the eye movements in
following the contours of a rec tangle (a) , and in looking at a
portrait (b) . Inasmuch as the patient is incapable of perceiving
simultaneously all the visual material presented to her, she
compensates for this defect by tracking the contours of the
drawing all around . Thus, the tracking movements of the eye
remain, in this situation, the principal means of compensating
for the narrowed visual field.

a b
Figure 1 . Eye movements in examination of
a rectangle (a) and a portrait (b). (Patient D.)
 334 Luria, Pravdina -Vinarskaya, & Iarbus

Defects in simultaneous visual perception associated with in ­

jury to the peripheral portion of the visual apparatus are suc ­
cessfully compensated for by the intact sy stem of the centrally
controlled tracking movements of the eyes .
An entirely different picture is seen in ce rtain injuries to the
cortical end of the visual analyzer.

We have already pointed out the comparatively rare instances

(most often of bilateral injury to the oc cipito -temporal divisions
of the brain) in which a pathological state of the visual co rtex
results in an entirely different type of narrowing of visual per ­
ception: the subj ect finds himself capable of perceiving only one
· obj ect at a time (regardless of its angular size), and simulta:-­
neous perception of more than one obj ect is beyond his c apaci ­
ties . As a rule, the cases of central disorder of the volume of
visual perception of this nature described in the literature are
accompanied by disturbance in organized tracing movements of
the eyes and by opticomotor ataxia.
However, in no case (inc luding that desc ribed by Luria, 19 59)
has the shifting of gaz e seen in the patient been subj ected to detailed
study. This gap is filled in the present communication.
In 19 59 and 1960 we had the opportunity to observe a patient
charac terized by the foregoing combination of symptoms of "si ­
multaneous agnosia" and "visual ataxia" and the associated
syndrome of profound disorder of organized visual perception .
We present the data resulting from study of this patient.

General Data

Patient R., 48 years of age, bookkeeper, was admitted to the

Institute of Neurosurgery with complaints of a peculiar visual
disorder consisting, in his words , of the fact that he could see
only one obj ect at a time . Therefore, he was incapable of look ­
ing at pictures or going to the thez.ter or the movies, for he was
able, in all these c ases, to see only disconnected fragments .
Eye Movements in Normal and Pathological Vision 335

Spatial orientation and acts that can be perfo rmed only on the
basis of visual perception were difficult for him . For example,
he would mi ss a chai r he was looking at while attempting to
seat himself on it, and was compelled to calculate this act fo r
a long time and to perform it "by fee l." He could bend directly
over a disposal urn and yet miss it in discarding a cigarette
butt. Reaching for an overhead support in a trolleybus, he would
miss it and bang the heads of others . All these difficulties could
be overcome only when the patient abandoned attempts at visual­
motor coordination and oriented himself by proprioc eptive per ­
ception . According to his desc ription, when walking he had "not
so much to see as to sense the way with his foot ." When walking
down a staircase, he could refrain from holding the bannister,
but could not get out of the way of anyone he met. Nor could he
read, because he extracted from the text only isolated and unre ­
lated words . He had no trouble in writing isolated letters or
syllables, but writing as a process was disordered because he
could not simultaneously perceive the line and his pencil, "and
one line was written over the next ."
In February 1958, R. began to experience headaches, and after
a while he found that it was difficult for him to dress: he con­
fused his right and left boots, and was unable to find the sleeves
of his jacket immediately . In April of the same year he encoun­
tered even greater difficulties in reading : he found himself ca­
pable of recognizing only single letter s and could not immedi­
ately grasp combinations of them . His handwriting also changed .
The progress of the disease led to considerable disturbances in
visual perception and the patient 's orientation in spac e ; and after
a brief stay in one of the regional hospitals, R. was sent to the
Institute of Neurosurgery bec ause of suspicion of a tumor of the
occipito -parietal portion of the brain . In the institute , the fol­
lowing was observed . The patient maintained contact, knew
where he was, and had good time orientation . Sometimes he
displayed affective outbursts in inadequate relations with people
in his environment, but usually he very quickly recognized that
he was wrong and begged pardon for his improper reactions .
His memory of past events was not entirely intact, and he was
 336 Luria, Pravdina-Vinarskaya, & Iarbus

not always capable of providing a coherent history of his disease.

R. went to examinations willingly and repeatedly added, on his
own initiative, various details desc riptive of the results obtained.
Neurologically three things we re observed in the patient:
sluggishness of pupillary response to light with convergenc e,
fundus normal, visual acuity 1 . 0 (bilateral) . Examination of the
visual field was difficult because the patient invariably pe rceived
but a single obj ect (this will be desc ribed below in detail), but
the impression was left that the field had been somewhat nar ­
rowed, and that R. oriented better in the right half of the field .
Optokinetic nystagmus was sluggish on the left and barely no ­
ticeable on the right . Reflex nystagmus was sluggish . There
were mild defects of binaural hearing, and mild bilateral py ra-
. midal symptom s . No disorders of sensation were observed ex­
cept for some disturbances in discriminative sensitivity of the
skin of the right wrist and of the lungs , but there were pro ­
nounced disorders in sense of localization of painful stimuli of
that same wrist. Posture tests were difficult because of the pa­
tient 's problems with simultaneous perception of space. Tests
for different motions in suc cession and evaluation and perfor ­
mance of rhythms pre sented no difficultie s . The patient 's
speech was not disordered . He was capable of repeating series
of words and numbers, and could name obj ects without difficulty .
Acoustic analy sis of words was intac t . Oral counting was per­
formed with ease within the limits of simple assignments, but
written counting was very difficult because of vi sual defects .
There were clearly defined difficulties in simultaneous percep ­
tion, and digital agnosia was present . Considerable difficulties
were seen in Head's tests, in orienting on a geographic map, and
in terms of the position of the hands of a c lock . Di sorders in
understanding logical relations in grammar (of the type of se­
mantic aphasia) were quite pronounced. Blood pressure was
140/ 190. Wassermann test was negative, as was the blood Cys ­
ticercus antigen with cerebrospinal fluid complement-fixation
test . The cerebrospinal fluid showed 0. 66% protein and 12/3
cytosis . Lange 's test results : 3 - 3-2 -2 - 1 -0. Cerebro spinal
fluid pressure 200 mm Hg.
Eye Movements in Normal and Pathological Vision 337

A skull x-ray showed no deviations from the normal . An

electroenc ephalogram (E E G) revealed changes of the diffuse
excitation type . The absence of an alpha wave in the occipital
regions and the nature of the changes in response to individual
and rhythmical light stimuli led to the conclusion that the occip ­
ital lobes of the brain were the site of the primary involvement
in the pathological process .
All the clinical data - the distributed nature of the cerebral
symptoms accompanied by lack of signs of intracranial hyper­
tension - compelled a hypothesis of a vascular brain di sease
of unc lear etio logy ; and the sluggish pupillary reactions and the
degenerative nature of the Lange reaction suggested the possi ­
bility of specific endarteritis .
Inasmuch as the most vivid clinical manifestation of the dis ­
ease took the form of complex optical and spatial di sorders, the
conclusion could be drawn that the major focus of damage lay in
the cortical regions of both parietal-oc cipital lobes of the brain .
This was subsequently confirmed by electroencephalography .

Investigation of Visual Perception

As previously indicated, the major disorders seen in the pa­

tient were associated with his visual perception .
From the very outset the patient complained of visual defects,
which essentially resolved to the fact that he was capable of see ­
ing only a single obj ect at a time and was compelled to search
for the remaining obj ects or details of a situation . When one of
these details appeared, the first obj ect disappeared. Thus, when
he rode down the street, he was capable of seeing at one time
only one machine in the entire flow of machines in motion, only
one person in a crowd, only one house or one window. When he
looked through a window he could see the snow falling, but the
wall of the house ac ross the way disappeared . As in the case
previously desc ribed (Luria, 1959), the size of the obj ect per­
c eived played no significant role . The limitation of his visual per­
c eption lay in the quantity, not in the siz e, of the obj ects perceived.
When the patient was shown various geometric figures for a
 338 Luria, Pravdina-Vinarskaya, & Iarbus

brief period, he was capable of perc eiving only one of them at a

time, but concluded that he had been shown two . Change in the
distance between figure s, displacement in the horizontal or ver­
tical plane, and removal to various distanc es (30 cm, 1 . 5 m,
2 .5 m, and 3 m), with a change in angular size, did not affect the
results . Each time the patient saw only one figure, and only oc ­
casionally noted that "there is also something else " in his visual
field, most often conc eiving of the second figure as being like
the first (for example, evaluating a triangle and a circ le as two
triangle s). However, experiments conducted under more pre ­
cise conditions, with the figures presented for 1 msec with the
aid of a flashbulb, made it possible to convince ourselves that
the patient perceived simultaneously only a single figure , re -
. gardle ss of its angular size, and that perception of the given
figure plus "something else" was the result of moving his eyes
when the display time was inc reased .
Experiment 1. Display of figures for 1 msec (figures measured
4° or 5° angle size)
1. Circle Circle
2. 1 Unity
3 . Three -segment broken ( 1) Didn 't understand .
line (2 ) Four. (3) Four, but the
bottom vertical was mis sing .
4. Rectangle ( 1 ) Didn't understand .
(2 ) A square .
5 . Multiplication sign A cross looking like a multipli ­
cation sign .
6 . Triangle T riangle .
7 . Plus sign An ordinary cross.
8 . Two circles (one A little circle .
under the other) One ?
One (2 - 5 ) . Same thing.
9. +O ( 1) A little c ross ; nothing else .
(2 ) A little circle ; nothing else .
(3) A little cross . (4) A little
circle.
Eye Movements in Normal and Pathological Vision 339

10. Same thing, but patient ( 1) A little cross. (2) A little

was told there would be circle . (3) A little circle
two figures and, it seems, something
else too . Probably there 's
a little cross and a little
circle here.

Thus, perception of individual figures displayed for a very

brief period was within the patient 's capacities; but short -term
display of two figures led to perception of only one of them, even
when the patient was told that two items would appear .
Analogous results were obtained when, under the same cir ­
cumstances, complex obj ects or images were displayed . Under
these conditions , however, the obj ect or image was not immedi ­
ate ly recognized. The impres sion was gained that recognition
took shape gradually on the basis of seizing hold of certain in­
dividual identifying characteristics.

Experiment 2 . Display for 1 msec ; image measuring 5 ° -8°

angle size.

1. Carrot (drawing) (1) Something red. (2 ) Some­

thing red . (3) A carrot .
2 . Poppy (drawing) ( 1) Something red. (2 ) Some­
thing dark red. (3) A flower .
3 . A rooster (drawing) ( 1) A spot . (2 ) A spot.
(3) Some bird - wings and a
nose . (4) A chicken or a
bird .
4 . A cup (drawing) ( 1-5) Some figure of light blue
color; I don 't understand.
(6-8) Some kind of spot .
(9) A cup .
5. A mushroom (large ( 1) Something stands out, like
10° - 1 5° angle size) a mushroom . . . . I saw the
cap and recognized the
340 Luria, Pravdina-Vinarskaya, & Iarbus

mushroom . . . . Didn 't see

the stem .
6 . A pear (drawing) ( 1) Pear -like . (2 ) A pear.
7 . Fork (drawing) Fork .
8 . A broom (drawing) ( 1) An awl ? Something long .
(2 -3) Sc rewdriver . (4) A brush .
9 . An infant (drawing, ( 1) A Jack (of cards). (2 ) A
8° angle size) c lock ? (3) A skull ? (4) A
flower . (5-6) A c lock !
10 . Scissors (the obj e ct) Scissors; I guessed from one
blade.
1 1 . A comb (the obj e ct) A comb .
12 . Penknife, half-open ( 1) A blade, probably of a small
(the obj ect) knife . (2 ) A small knife
bent at an angle .
13 . Two cherries (drawing, ( 1-3) Don 't know . (4- 5 ) Some­
20° angle size) thing red . A flower ?
(6) P robably a flower .
(7) Probably a fountain pen (the
stem of the cherry ) . (8) A
flower ? (9) A cherry ? I
recognized it by the stem .
One cherry . ( 10) A flower .
( 1 1) A cherry emerges . ( 12 ) A
flower . . . . ( 13 ) It emerges
as a cherry .

The experiment shows that the patient was able, after a very
short display, to perc eive both objects and their image s; but as
a rule he recognized them by some identifying characteristic ..
Hence perception of relatively simple obj ects and images with
clear -cut identifying characteristics was easy, but recognition
of more complex obj ects or images containing a number of de ­
tails (9, for example) was quite difficu lt . Adequate perception
of images incorporating several identical elements ( 13 , for ex­
ample) was beyond the capacities of the patient .
These experiments enabled us to conclude that in patient R.
Eye Movements in Normal and Pathological Vision 34 1

we actually were dealing with a c lear-cut case of simultaneous

agnosia with reduction of the capacity for simultaneous visual
perception to a single meaning-element . It is this defect that
explains the fact that, in this patient, complex visual perception
proved to be fragmented.

Pathology of Opticomotor Coordination

As in the case previously desc ribed (Luria, 1959), the narrow­

ing of visual perception to a single component was accompanied,
in patient R., by gross disturbanc es in opticomotor coordination.
These defects , clearly manifested in the complaints and be ­
havior of the patient, appeared just as c learly in special experi ­
mental tests . What was most important, however, was the fact
that they were manifested in instances when the patient 's move ­
ments were controlled by vision, and were not seen when the
movements were controlled kinesthetically .
When the patient 's body was touched, he was able to localize
the point of contact rather accurately (except for the right wrist
and forearm) and, with his eyes c losed, to place his hand at the
point indicated . Localization of contact was quite accurate, and
movements (indicating the point of contact) were rather confi­
dent . The range of errors did not exceed 1 cm, and no significant
difference was seen between the right and left sides . The same
experiments conducted with a lag between contact and pointing
to the spot yielded only an insignificant increase in error. It
was conside rably more difficult for the patient to localize the
next two points of contact. In these cases the error in localiza­
tion of the second point of contact increased, but confidence in
movement in the pointing gesture did not change significantly .
More complex movements, controlled by the kinesthetic ana­
lyzer or performed conceptually on verbal instructions, proved
to be just as intact.
The patient readily recognized geometric figures (a circle,
quadrangle, or triangle) when they were traced on the skin of
his forearm (no significant difference between the right and the
left side was seen) and reproduced them with eyes c losed and
342 Luria, Pravdina-Vinarskaya, & Iarbus

without difficulty, drawing on his skin or in the air . He was

capable of reproducing, with eyes closed, the position of a hand
or finger in spac e, and of repeating a rather complex sequence
of movements controlled kinesthetic ally . Hand motions in ac ­
cordance with an assigned pattern 1-2-3;4 were copied quite
t
accurately after only two kinesthetically presented example s .
On the other hand, all visually controlled movements displayed
a pronounc ed contrast to movements kinesthetically controlled.
Like patient V ., previously desc ribed (Luria, 1959), R. was un­
able to touch a visually presented dot accurately with a pencil. He
said that he could see either the dot or the pencil point, but could
not see both together, and his misses of the target were within
an area of 6 cm . He could not plac e a dot in the center of a cir ­
'
cle or cross, missing constantly and putting i t at various points
in the circle (and sometimes outside it) . Altho_ugh he could draw
a circ le or triangle with eyes closed without difficulty , he was
inc apable of tracing a figure presented to him visually and dis -­
torted the contours in the grossest manner . He was incapable of
tracing the outlines of a fac e if he was offered a sketch inc luding
eyes, nose, and mouth, and was not able to place eyes, nose, and
mouth within the given oval of a fac e . He could not do a drawing
of any complexity (for example, an elephant or house) . Instead
of the continuous outline, he presented isolated representations
of individual constituents, saying: "My idea of it is perfectly all
right, but my hands don't go where they should." He made a sat­
isfactory analysis of the acoustic composition of a word, but was
incapable of writing or copying, because the letters came out on
top of one another, and lines were not observed at all .
All these data indicate that the patient's opticomotor coordi ­
nation was grossly disturbed, although kinesthetically controlled
movements were intact, and that these disorders were intimately
associated with the basic defect of gross reduction in visual per­
ception to a single constituent, as obse rved above .
Pathology of Visual Tracking Movements
All these data bring us to the final phase of our observations -
Eye Movements in Normal and Pathological Vision 343

analysis of the disorders observed in the patient in the move ­

ments of the eye itself, and primarily in the searching move ­
ments of gaze. In order to accomplish these movements, as we
have stated above, it is necessary to preserve a system con ­
sisting, at the very least, of two stimulated points, one of which
contro ls the eye movements, shifting the obj ect to the central
visual field, and the other of which directly carries out differ­
entiated visual reception.
Experiments involving recording of the eye movements of the
patient, conducted in accordance with the above -described tech ­
niques , yielded clear -cut re sults .
Fixation of a single point did not disclose any significant de ­
fects in eye movements when the requirement was to trac e a
single moving point . Eye movements in fo llowing a pendulum,
recorded on a photomicrogram, showed a rather regular sine ­
wave, indicating that in this movement the patient revealed no
pathology whatever (Figure 2) .

\
Figure 2 . Eye movements in tracking one moving point .
(Patient R.)

We witnessed a sharp contrast to this intact simple act of vi­

sual movement as soon as we proceeded to the problem of shift ­
ing the eye from one given point to another . In these cases
(even when the two points were only 5° or 6° apart) , organized
344 Luria, Pravdina-Vinarskaya, & Iarbus

voluntary shifting of the eyes from point to point proved impos ­

sible ( Figure 3) . The patient, unable to see two points simulta­
neously, actually now engaged not in shifting the eyes from point
to point, but in ataxic movements of search for the new point.
Therefore, he was unable to find it at once, and constantly lost
track of it; and even long-held display of two points failed to
lead to c lear -cut, coordinated movements of the eyes .

Figure 3 . Eye movements when shifting from one

point of fixation to another . (P atient R.)

This disorder of the self -regulating movements of the eye ,

which appeared as soon as the gaze began to be controlled by
two points presented simultaneously, should manifest itself�o
less c learly in any act of visual tracking of a system of points
or line s . This was manifested c learly i n a series o f records
made subsequently .
 Eye Movements in Normal and Pathological Vision 345

Figure 4 presents a recording

of the eye movements of the pa­
tient when given the assignment
of tracing a rectangle with his
eyes . In this case the eye move­
ments hardly have the nature of
organized tracking of outlines,
with the result that a motor
"copy" of the figure offered
emerges . In the record repro ­
duced, this contour cannot be dis ­
tinguished, and one is capable of
seeing only a number of ataxic
Figure 4. Eye movements in
movements demonstrating that
tracing a rectangle vi sually .
the patient now finds and now
(Patient R.)
loses the lines he is seeking .
In Figure 5 we present a rec ording of eye movements in ex­
amining a portrait . Whereas in normal vision (Figure 5a) the
tracking movements of the eye reproduce the contours of the
drawing accurately, yielding points of fixation at its principal
points , in the patient (Figure 5b) no copy of the image perceived
emerges in the eye movementR

(b)

Figure 5 . Eye movements in examining a portrait:

(a) control (subject examines portrait freely with
both eyes and without instructions); (b) patient R.
346 Luria, Pravdina-Vinarskaya, & Iarbus

The patient, although grasping the significance of the complete

picture, is incapable of analyzing it visually and of consistently
tracking the details constituting it . The "tracke r" of the eyes
here proves to be so disturbed that, on shifting from perc eption
of the whole to tracking details, the patient begins to experienc e
the same difficulties that arise each time that the visual percep ­
tion of a single point is replac ed by the visual perception of a
complex structure .
Analogous data emerged from recording the patient 's eye
movements in reading . Here, too, he was capable of fixing only
isolated points, but not of consistently tracing lines and trans ­
ferring his eyes from one point to another; reading therefore
became a disorganized grasping at isolated components of the
text. We cite an example.

Text specimen:
'What is your last name ? " "My name is Ivanova."
'What is your first name ? " "My first name is Nedezhda. "
' What is your patronymic ? " "My patronymic is
Vasil 'evna. "

Specimen of patient 's reading:

"Read from the beginning. " "Vasilina. " "My patronymic
is Vasilina . . . . My patronymic is Vasilina."
'What is your first name ? Nadezhda. What is your
first name? Nadezhda Ivanovna. . . . My last name is
Ivanova. My first name . . . Ivanova? . . . that 's also my
first name . . . again it says my first name, but that ' s what
it is . . . . My patronymic is Vasilina Ivanovna."

These data demonstrate that the pathological condition of the

visual cortex, caused by the reduction of accessible visual in­
formation to a single element, inevitably results in disordering
the entire tracking system of the eye, and that opticomotor
ataxia is merely a manifestation of disturbance of this system.
At the same time, these data make po ssible a direct approach
to analysis of the paradoxical observations in visual agnosia
Eye Movements in Normal and Pathological Vision 347

arising in such cases . The patient 's intact ability to perceive an

entire image directly (based, it seems, on isolation of the lead­
ing meaningful characteristic) disappears as soon as the patient
proceeds to consecutive visual tracking of the components of a
simultaneous structure presented to him . We find that a patient
who is incapable of grasping several components at once is in­
c apable of examining them consecutively : when he directs his
gaze toward a single element, the others disappear, and orga­
nized tracking of the entire complex is violated . Thus, the visual
tracker remains intact only when there is a system of visual
stimuli consisting at the very least of two simultaneously stim ­
u lated points, of which one activates the orienting oculomotor
reflex, and the other provides precise, differentiated vision.

Experiments in Restoration of Opticomotor Functions

The data on the intimate connection between the two phenom­

ena described above - the reduction in the number of elements
perceived to one, and disorder of the tracking device of the eye
- were confirmed by experiments with the obj ect of achieving
temporary restoration of both these disturbed functions .
E arlier, on the assumption that the syndrome described is ex­
plained by pathologically impaired tonus of the occipital cortex,
when this region, in Pavlov 's expres sion, proved to be so weak
that "it was possible to deal simultaneously only with a single
stimulated point, " we conducted an experiment on the influence
of caffeine on this weakened cortical function . Significant re­
sults were obtained: in a 30- to 40- min period, the volume of
elements perceived simultaneously increased to two or three,
and the phenomena of optical ataxia temporarily disappeared
(Luria, 19 59) .
We attempted t o pursue this approach i n the case under di s ­
cus sion, but in this instance employed, in addition t o caffeine, a
cholinesterase antagonist - galanthamine - that, according to
Eidinova & P ravdina-Vinarskaya ( 19 59), had proved to be a pow­
erful agent in restoring synaptic conductivity and inducing a
substantial improvement in the functional activity of the weak-
348 Luria, Pravdina-Vinarskaya, & Iarbus

ened cortical cells . The experiments confirmed our expecta­

tions . The inj ection of 0 . 5 cc of c affeine in a 10% solution led
to a considerable expansion of the functional visual field. Within
2 0 min, after the inj ection, the patient began to perc eive simul ­
taneously two of the figures suggested to him . There was also
a pronounced improvement in oculomotor coordination . An ef ­
fect similar to this was obtained upon subcutaneous inj ec tion of
1 cc of a 0.2 5% galanthamine solution. Data involving changes
in visual-motor coordination proved particularly c lear -cut .
Whereas before the inj ection of galanthamine the task of placing
a point in the center of a circle or of drawing a circle around a
point was beyond R. 's capacities , this became possible for him
within 40 min afte r the inj ection . Similar results were obtained
in reading . Whereas before the galanthamine inj ection the pa­
tient was able to grasp only scattered words in the text and
moved in di sorderly fashion from line to line, afterward he was
able for a while to follow a line in a more organized manner,
and even to move from one line to the next. This continued for a
period, but then the defects typic al of this patient began to re­
appear in their previous form .
The inability to obtain lasting recovery of visual synthesis and
visual-motor coordination compelled us to refrain and, for
practical reasons, to abandon direct efforts to restore reading,
and to follow the course of reorganizing the reading proc ess by
inhibiting the disordered eye movements of the patient and pro ­
ceeding from the fact that kinesthetic afferentation was intact .
To accomplish this, we employed, at the suggestion o f L . S .
Tsvetkova, the device o f placing a frame around the text that
left but a single syllable expo sed (and, subsequently, a word),
which eliminated the disorderly appearance of unconnected
items in the text . This frame was gradually shifted by the pa­
tient along the line and, as new components were disc losed, it
made possible a complete process of tracking, based fundamen­
tally on kinesthetic afferentation . The frame was moved to the
next line by pushing it back along the line just read, after which
it was moved slowly to the next . Thi s technique resulted in
slow, but coordinated, reading . It was gradually replaced by
Eye Movements in Normal and Pathological Vision 349

tracking the text with the aid of a ruler below it, and finally with
the aid of a finger moving along the line . Thi s approach, the re­
sult of which was to shift the leading role in the act of reading
to the mechanism of kinesthetic tracking, proved to be the sole
means of attaining a certain recovery of the act of reading on
the part of the patient .

Conc lusion

The normal process of visual perception necessarily includes

reflex shifting of the eyes (relative to the obj ect), as a con­
sequence of which those features of the obj ect containing maxi­
mum information are fixed by the central visual field . The com ­
plex proc ess of examining a picture or real situation presumes
a consecutive series of these movements.
The reflex shifting of the eye, with fixation in the central sec ­
tions of the retina of points bearing maximum information, is
pos sible only if there is a system of simultaneously excited
points . Some of these points (peripherally located) constitute the
source of impulses inducing reflex shifting of the eye, and others
(c entral in location) bear the function of rec eption and transmis ­
sion of visual information.
In cases in which the existence of such a system of simulta­
neously excited points proves impossible, a sec ondary distur ­
bance of organized sighting movements arises necessarily, and
the integrated process of visual perception disintegrates .
In the present article, which constitutes a continuation of a
communic ation previously published (Luria, 1959), we provide
an analysis of a case in which, as a result of bilateral damage
to the parieto -occipital divisions of the cortex, the patient was
capable of perceiving but a single obj ect at a time. As a con­
sequenc e of this limitation of the functioning of the visual cortex
to the confines of a single stimulated point, one could observe
in the patient a gross ataxia in sighting and, as a result, a
marked disorder of the self-regulating acts of visual perception .
Use of the technique of recording visual movements, demon­
strating that these movements are normal in peripherally in -
3 50 Luria, Pravdina-Vinarskaya, & Iarbus

duced tunnel vision and are very disordered in c entrally origi ­

nating simultaneous agnosia, makes it possible to approach more
closely an analysis of the role played by eye movements in ac ­
tive perc eption, and thus to pose a number of significant ques­
tions on the psychological and physiological mechanisms under ­
lying visual perception .

References

Balint, K. Seelenlaehmung des Schauens . Monatschr. Psych .

Neural., 1909 .
Eidinova, M . B., & Pravdina-Vinarskaya, E . N. [ Cerebral in­
sults in children and tactics for overcoming them ] . Moscow:
APN RSFSR, 19 59.
· Gelb, A . , & Goldstein, K. Psycho logische Analy se hirnpatho­
logischen Faelle . Leipzig, 192 0.
Hecaen, H ., & Ajuriaguerra, J . Balint 's syndrome . Brain,
19 54, 77.
Holmes, G. Disturbanc es of vi sion by cerebral lesions . Brit .
J . Ophthal ., 19 19, 1.
Iarbus , A. L. [A ne ; method for recording eye movements ] .
Biofizika, 19 56, _!(8) .
Luria, A. R . Disorders of simultaneous perception in a c ase
of bilateral occipitotemporal brain injuries . Brain, 19 59, 82 .
Paterson, A., & Zangwill, 0. L. Disorders of visual spac e per­
ception as sociated with lesions of the right hemisphere .
Brain, 1944, 67.
Pavlov, I. P . [ Pavlovian Wednesdays ] . Vol . 3 . 1949 .
Wolpert, J . Die Simultanagnosie . Z . Neural . Psychiat ., 192 4,
93.
Translated by
Michel Vale
 ABOUT THE EDITOR

Michael Cole is Professor and Coordinator of Communications

Program , University of California, San Diego. He has been the
editor of the translation j ournal Soviet Psychology since 1969 .
He coedited A Handbook of Contemporary Soviet Psychology,
and has coauthored Culture and Thought: A Psychological In ­
troduction, The Cultural Context of Learning and Thinking, and
many other books and articles. Having obtained his Ph.D. at
Indiana University, Professor Cole taught at Yale , the Univer ­
sity of California at Irvine , Hampshire College , and the Rocke ­
feller University. His own research is devoted to studying the
influence of cultural environment on the development of cogni ­
tive skills .

351