GOVERNMENT AND POLICY CHAPTER 20 Legislating Competence High-Stakes Testing Policies and Their Relations with Psychological Theories and Research RICHARD M. RYAN KIRK W. BROWN The development of competence in schools is an increasing focus of national concern in countries across the globe. This concern is fueled by the fact that educational outcomes, broadly considered, are linked with the health and economic well-being of nations. Beyond the obvious economic and health value of schooling to the individual person, the general expansion of education within a nation is associated with a host of outcomes, from reduced mortality and fertility to increased economic productivity and positive social change (Sen, 1999). Because of the importance of the development of competence, governments are also increasingly attempting to legislate ways to enhance educational opportunities and outcomes. Yet much controversy exists about the appropriate ways governments can stimulate improved schools and greater academic achievement, and what kind of improvements in achievement are actually meaningful for the health and economic well-being of a nation. This issue is international and occupies headlines from Great Britain to South Korea. In the United States, state and federal government policies aimed at obtaining greater "accountability" and "higher standards" have especially stimulated controversy. These recent policy initiatives attempt to improve school performance through high-stakes testing (HST). Specifically, high-stakes policies represent a two-pronged approach to reform. The first prong entails increased testing to gauge how students, teachers, and schools are performing relative to each other, and relative to the standards that government agencies determine all students should meet. The second prong carries the motivational component: This testing has teeth. The attainment of standards is motivated or enforced by high stakes in the form of rewards and punishments, such as 354 20- Legislating Competence 355 financial incentives and job security for educators, and grade retention versus promotion for students. HST reform has become, in short order, the most dominant pressure in America's public schools and is rapidly reshaping teaching practice and curricular contents across the nation. What is most interesting about this approach to reform, for the purposes of this volume, is that HST policies reflect particular theories of motivation and achievement. Specifically, high-stakes reform approaches represent a view of competence promotion and teaching that reflects an operant theory of motivation (Keilaghan, Madaus, & Raczek, 1996) and a view of educational outcomes that is more closely aligned with those espousing performance goals rather than mastery or learning goals (Deci & Ryan, 2002); that is, the governmental policy is founded on the idea that making rewards and punishments more salient and1 contingent on test score outcomes is the most appropriate and effective way of ensuring greater student effort and learning, and more effective teaching. As such, this social policy enacts a behavioristic motivational philosophy and represents a natural experiment in the social psychology of competence. It is a policy that suggests that high-quality educational motivation is a function of external incentives, a view that at least some psychologists support (e.g., Eisen-berger, Pierce, & Cameron, 1999; Hidi, 2002). In contrast, several theories in contemporary motivational psychology predict that attempting to enhance achievement in schools through such external controls will yield some highly negative results, based on the properties of the type of motivation it incites. In particular self-determination theory (Deci 6c Ryan, 1985; Ryan &c Deci, 2000) explicitly predicts important costs of implementing such an approach to motivating competence in public schools. Similarly, some tenets of modern goal theories (e.g., Dweck, 1991; Nicholls, 1984; Elliot, 1999) also suggest potential costs of a focus on demonstrating performance outcomes. Thus, what is scientifically engaging about the social policy debate and implementation is that results of reform should be interpret-able, in accord with the varying predictions of these psychological models. What is so- cially engaging about the debate are the relative costs and benefits to children. In this chapter, we examine HST reforms in the United States precisely because they illustrate the impact that social policy can have on institutional practice, and the relations (or absence of them) between empirically based research in psychology and education, and governmental policies. We highlight the nature of these test-driven reforms, the legislation surrounding them, and both the theoretically predicted impact and the current empirical data on their effectiveness and consequences. We then discuss the seeming divorce between political reforms and current empirical research in the psychology of competence and education. To presage some conclusions, our review suggests that, to date, HST has not, in general, produced positive outcomes. Nonetheless, both the positive and negative data that have been obtained can be readily interpreted using the principles outlined in extant theories of motivation. In line with operant theory, and the general recognition of the power of contingent rewards to control behavior, high-stakes policies do indeed change behavior. They lead to increased district, school, and teacher activities intended to raise test scores. In fact, some of the behaviors that these contingencies incite are part of the problem, such as "teaching to the tests," elimination of developmentally enriching activities that are not likely to be tested, manipulation of targeted standards, and "push-outs" of potentially low performers from the pool of test takers. In line with self-determination theory (e.g., Deci & Ryan, 2002; Ryan & LaGuardia, 1999) and some perspectives on performance-focused motivation (e.g., Midgley, Kaplan, & Middleton, 2001), these high-stakes reforms are yielding a variety of collateral or unintended negative consequences, especially in areas involving persistence and quality of learning. Among the concerns is that HST is typically "one size fits all," requiring all students, regardless of their backgrounds, learning differences, and rates of development, to jump the same evaluative hurdles simultaneously. This approach potentially lowers the ability of schools to optimally challenge students of different talents and achievement levels, and it is of special concern regarding students with disabilities. An- 356 IV CONTEXTUAL INFLUENCES other concern is the problem of transfer: Rises in high-stakes test scores do not appear to generalize to other indices of improved achievement (e.g., other achievement measures). This poor generalizability is not necessarily due to the invalidity of the tests, but rather to the criterion contamination caused by their high-stakes implementation. The rewards and punishments that prompt an urgency to raise test scores lead to a narrowing of teaching, and therefore learning, and foster classroom dynamics that tend to decrease student motivation and engagement, as well as teacher morale and creativity. Perhaps more importantly, because HST neither provides a good basis for intrinsic . motivation nor offers students optimal challenges (because the standards and methods of demonstrating performance are the same for all), reforms based on HST have been associated with increased school dropouts. These dropouts are especially salient among those already at risk, including the urban poor, students with special needs, and those for whom English is a second language—the very children whom many HST advocates have said they do not want to leave behind. THE HIGH-STAKES TESTING MOVEMENT There is little argument that gathering information and providing feedback about performance in educational settings is important for maintaining student and teacher motivation, and for informing educational policy (Linn, 2000; Shepard, 2000). Indeed, feedback regarding outcomes is recognized as a critical feature in improving the function of any organized system (Carver & Scheier, 1998). The function of assessment in gathering information, however, has additional impacts when the outcome data are linked with contingent rewards and punishments, as is the case in HST. HST has been advocated as a means of motivating students and teachers alike to put in more effort, and thereby raise student achievement (Oakes, 1991; Finn, 1991). Policies instituting HST have taken on varied forms, but the common denominator in such initiatives is that state or federal governments mandate standardized testing of all students and then administer rewards or sanctions based on the results. Students, teachers, and schools that improve or do well are rewarded, and those that decline or do badly are punished. For students, HST results can be the basis for promotion versus retention, and in some states, failure on a single indicator can result in the denial of a high school diploma. Teachers in schools that perform well may get cash bonuses, while those in other schools are reprimanded or derogated. For the schools, the comparative student performance average can result in increases versus cuts in school budgets, and in some cases, poor student performance may result in administration changes or even school takeovers by the state. When the stakes get high for administrators, local officials can even add to the stakes. For example, schools have offered cash prizes, parties, exemptions from finals, scholarships, candy, and awards to high-scoring students (Keller, 2000). School superintendents have been given personal cash bonuses when scores in their districts improve. However, the principal incentive at the administrative level is the public nature of high-stakes assessments. Schools and districts are publicly compared on their test scores, with the often explicit reasoning that pride or humiliation will be attached to the differences in score attainments. Accordingly, at all levels of educational systems, raising the stakes leads to increased attention to test scores because of the consequences attached to them. A BRIEF HISTORY OF HIGH-STAKES TESTING The modern HST movement has roots dating back to 19th-century England. Utilitarian philosophers such as Jeremy Bentham (1748-1832) and James Mill (1733-1836) formulated principles of motivation based upon hedonic principles and associationism that provided the foundations of what would become modern behaviorism (Rachlin, 1976). In applying these principles, they suggested the systematic use of rewards and punishments to establish good learning habits in schools. The English Parliament was perhaps the first government to put HST into practice, passing numerous laws intensifying examination structures to ensure liter- 20. Legislating Competence 357 acy, including the Revised Code of Regulations (1862), which advocated a "payment by results" scheme that linked the funds awarded to schools to students' performance on the exams. Whereas the Code promoted a wider national school system, it also prompted a rigid narrowing of curricula and an escalation of teacher-centered drill- and repetition-focused instruction. Although the Code was eventually repealed, the ideas of "streaming" or segregation of students according to ability level, evaluation by exams, and the resultant conservative methods instituted by the British system in the 19th century continued into the modern era. In the United States, the modern instantiation of HST begins with the controversial publication of A Nation at Risk in 1983. This document, authored by the National Committee on Excellence in Education, declared that a rising tide of mediocrity was threatening the United States and its ability to compete in the world economy. (Parenthetically, one should note that despite relative stability in achievement standings since 1983, U.S. workers in 2001 were second in the world in global competitiveness according to the World Economic Forum [2002] report). Although one might assume that reform to alleviate "mediocrity" could take any number of directions, the U.S. government's approach under President Reagan was to step up demands for a core curriculum, more homework, more discipline, and more "accountability" (e.g., performance-based pay for teachers and increased testing), not more resources for schools, in part because lawmakers sought reforms that could be easily understood and rapidly implemented. Within several years following the report, virtually all states adopted more stringent graduation requirements, and many added mandatory homework requirements. School days lengthened and extracurricular amenities shrank. Standardized testing and curricula, matched to what those tests could measure, burgeoned. Echoing the spirit of these reforms, William Bennett, a politician and popular moralist, proclaimed that "accountability is the linchpin, the keystone, the sine qua non of the reform movement" (Toch, 1991, p. 205). The demand for accountability led quickly to a focus on tests and pressure toward better outcomes on them. Policymakers in nearly every state implemented policies to assess educational standards, and in many of these states, high-stakes consequences were attached to these outcomes, presumably as an incentive-punishment system to motivate change. High-performing schools were to be rewarded and underperformers penalized. Thus, the implementation of policy followed a behaviorist paradigm in which contingent rewards were applied to motivate (and control) teachers and students. Although there were disappointing results from this early round of HST and many well-documented negative effects (see review by Toch, 1991), the late 1990s saw a new infusion of investment in HST policies. Politicians and business groups lobbied for still greater accountability in public schools, and states increasingly developed tests by which to rank and reward schools based on standardized test scores. Some states, such as Texas, aggressively pursued HST policies throughout the 1990s, and in so doing showed increased scores on the specific tests that were the targets of rewards and sanctions (Haney, 2000). By the first year of the new millennium, nearly all states were using HST in an attempt to foster school achievement. Nearly all states now publish school or district report cards on targeted tests, with the explicit purpose of motivating schools through public pressure or ridicule. Nearly half of all states also provide financial rewards to schools that improve on tests, and threats of administrative change or takeover for those that decline. Many states are directly paying school administrators bonus cash awards when schools under their watch improve on test scores. Finally, states have been increasingly creating high stakes for students, as well as administrators. The most common high stake is that grade passage versus retention, and ultimately graduation, is contingent on passing a state-administered test. The high stakes of grade retention on the basis of a single examination have been applied as early as the fourth grade (e.g., in Florida). It is explicitly assumed by HST advocates that this type of contingency leads students to work harder in school (e.g., Cheney, 1991; Shanker, 1993), a point contested by critics (see Kelleghan et al., 1996). At this point in time, more than half of all states have made grad- 358 IV CONTEXTUAL INFLUENCES uation from high school contingent on a standardized test performance. A National Initiative: No Child Left Behind In 2001, President George W. Bush succeeded in passing, with bipartisan support, landmark legislation entitled No Child Left Behind (NCLB). A stated goal of NCLB is to raise levels of achievement and close the performance gap separating middle-class from poor and underperforming minority students. The plan called for even more testing and more salient stakes for schools and students alike. Specifically, NCLB mandates annual testing in grades 3-8 in math and reading. According to the legislation, scores from such tests are to be used to determine improving and declining achievement, such that penalties and rewards can be attached to them at the level of schools and children. Schools must make steady progress every year toward raising achievement levels on these exams in each of five racial and ethnic subgroups, as well as among low-income students and those with limited English skills or learning disabilities. Failure to demonstrate improvement for any of these subgroups for 2 consecutive years results in a school being labeled low performing. According to NCLB mandates, schools deemed low performing must facilitate the transfer of students to better schools or provide private tutors for students. Schools that continue to be low performing beyond 2 years can have their administrators and staff replaced. Federal funding is made contingent on compliance with these mandates. NCLB has many critics. Given the expectable, year-to-year deviations that occur in standardized test results, schools may frequently be categorized as low performing for what amounts to statistical issues rather than reasons of educational quality. However, such logistical concerns are not the ones most pertinent to a critique of HST as a strategy of reform. As noted, HST represents a motivational policy. Yet a number of contemporary motivational theories suggest that a host of unintended negative consequences will stem from the pressure and rewards used to externally control teaching and learning. These include narrowing of curricula, teaching to the test, less creative teaching, more superficial and nontransferable learning, more controlling behavior at all levels of power, more withdrawal of effort from at-risk students, and increased dropout rates. We turn first to these theoretical predictions, and then to a review of the accumulating empirical findings on the use of HST. THEORETICAL PERSPECTIVES ON HIGELSTAKES TESTING High-Stakes Testing as an Operant Approach HST is based, at least implicitly, on a behav-iorist view of student and teacher motivation. By putting contingent reinforcements on outcomes, the policy presumably increases efforts and behaviors associated with improvement; that is, HST advocates reason that whatever behaviors schools adopt to enhance test scores will be reinforced and selected for, whereas those associated with lower scores will be extinguished and, in the case of poor-performing schools, selected out. Not only will the behavior of teachers change, so will that of students. According to Shanker (1993), strong consequences attached to test scores will provide students with " the incentive to work hard and achieve because they know something important ... is at stake" (p. 7). The historical link between HST and behaviorism has deep roots. As previously noted, behaviorism emerged from a blend of British associationism and a hedonic view of human motivation, in which learned behaviors were always a function of external controls that punish or reward. It follows from this perspective that educators should utilize these external forces in regulating learning. This approach to motivation was integral to the work of perhaps the most influential of all behaviorist educators, E. L. Thorndike. The central principle of Thorndike's theory of learning, which he called connectionism, was his law of effect, which states that if a behavior is followed by a satisfying consequence, it is more likely to occur in the future under similar conditions. Conversely, if a behavior is followed by an unsatisfying consequence, its probability of recurrence will wane. A second principle was that of 20. Legislating Competence 359 frequency: The more frequently an association is repeated, the more likely it is to recur in similar conditions. Together, these "laws" of learning underwrote educational practices focused on the use of external reinforcements, coupled with practice, drill, and repetition. Although these techniques have characterized conservative approaches to education across history (see Ryan & Lynch, 2003), connectionism gave them a specific theoretical rationale. Thorndike was also an advocate of testing. As he stated, "Testing the results of teaching and study is . . . the sine qua non of sure progress. It is the chief means to arousing . . . the instinct for achievement" (1962, pp. 65-66). However, interestingly, Thorndike was also cautious about how such tests should be used. As he states: "Great care should be taken in deciding anything about the fate of pupils, the value of methods, the achievement of school systems and the like from scores made in a test" (p. 156). Thorndike's behaviorism was influential in education for several decades but eventually gave way to the "radical behaviorism" of B. F. Skinner. Skinner similarly advocated the systematic application by teachers of consequences, principally positive reinforcements, to induce learning. Skinner also promoted the idea of "programmed learning," which viewed instruction not as based in relationships or interests, but rather in a well-structured and systematic application of contingent reinforcements. Today conservative educators continue to advocate the use of rewards to control learning, both at the classroom and school system levels. Behaviorists argue that teaching is most effective when based on control through reinforcements. For example, behaviorists Cameron and Pierce (1994), in the context of reporting a now discredited metaanalysis (see Deci, Koestner, & Ryan, 1999), argued that "teachers have no reason to resist implementing incentive systems in the classroom" (p. 397). At a political level, this theme is echoed loudly. Chester Finn has argued that "the problem is that academic success yields such few rewards [sic] and indolence brings few penalties" (1991, p. 120). He, and a broad array of conservative spokespersons, have argued that putting rewards and penalties behind the test scores will effectively alter the behavior of both teachers and their students. This type of thinking has deeply influenced recent educational reforms in several nations focused on HST. In this view, instruction should be driven by measurement, and the outcomes of measurement should be the basis of rewards and sanctions for both teachers and learners (as discussed in Popham, 1983). Our interpretation of the HST movement as reflecting an operant strategy has one very important caveat. Operant theory has always been focused on making rewards contingent on target behaviors. The twist in the HST movement is that its advocates apply contingent rewards and sanctions to performance outcomes; that is, rather than rewarding valued behaviors, such as student effort or work habits, contingencies are instead applied to test outcomes, the control over which is often questionable, especially for at-risk students. Similarly, rather than rewarding excellent teaching activities and approaches, schools are rewarded or sanctioned on their test score results. This practice is not in line with the fundamental tenets of the operant viewpoint. Indeed, we believe that the focus on performance outcomes, rather than on behaviors that students and teachers have direct control over, is one of the features of HST that lead to reinforcement of the wrong behaviors. This focus on outcomes does find affinity from some theorists who focus on goals as motivating forces in behavior. Among those perspectives that could be aligned with HST-based reforms is the goal theory approach of Locke and Latham (1990), who argue for a high-performance model in which demanding goals are linked with both internal and external rewards to maximize organizational efficiency. Although they developed their model in application to industry, they suggest its generalizability to schooling, arguing that the high-performance model of difficult goals associated with rewards for success "should be made part of our schools as well as our work organizations" (p. 268). Advocating this linkage between measurable outcomes and performance-contingent reinforcements would seem to be fully congruent with the HST approach. A similar advocacy of applying contingent rewards to performance outcomes has also been forwarded by Hidi and Harackiewicz (2000), whose perspective on performance goals we 360 IV CONTEXTUAL INFLUENCES review in discussing theories of mastery and performance goals. Organismic Perspectives on Learning A very different view of what motivates learning and competence can be gleaned from what has sometimes been called the "liberal perspective," and sometimes the "organismic perspective," in which learning is seen as an inherent or intrinsic tendency of the person (Ryan & Lynch, 2003). In this tradition, the desire to learn is seen as a natural or basic tendency of humans. Learning is growth. However, like all growth, this inherent initiative or tendency requires support and nutriments. The result is a process (rather than outcome) focus, in which nur-turance, mainly in the form of warm relationships, optimal challenges, and supports for autonomy and interest, are the most common elements. Throughout history, educators embracing this liberal view have argued that students are not optimally motivated by external controls, but rather by support of their inherent tendency to learn. In ancient times, this view was espoused by Quintilian, who recognized that learners of different ages and types have distinct needs and interests, and held that curriculum and methods should be tailored accordingly. He deemphasized the then common use of punishment, instead stressing the importance of making learning interesting and attractive. In the Renaissance, similar views were echoed by Comenius, who focused on the strategic importance of warm student-teacher relationships and enhancing students' interest in learning. Subsequently, Enlightenment philosopher Rousseau laid the groundwork for much modern thinking in the liberal vein, emphasizing children's curiosity and natural inclination to learn under supportive conditions. Rousseau influenced generations of subsequent educators. Outstanding among them was the Swiss educator, Pestalozzi, who viewed the aims of education not as "imposing on the child fixed doctrines and alien concepts but in helping him to develop his own constructive powers" (Silber, 1973, p. 274). His method of education entailed, first and foremost, an atmosphere of emotional security based in a warm and caring relationship between teacher and child. He advocated that knowledge be gained, when possible, through direct experience rather than through mere words passed from teacher to child. He also downplayed the utility of punishment and fear of evaluation, suggesting that if provided a secure base, the child's nature would lead to discovery and growth. Pestalozzis philosophy was widely disseminated during the 19th century in Europe and the United States, and became a major influence on a diverse family of practitioners, including Froebel in Germany, and Montessori in Italy. Finally, in the 20th century, Dewey (1938) emphasized the importance of cultivating interest and inquiry in crafting an education, rather than arbitrarily imposed educational tasks and goals. He stood, in this respect, in stark contrast to his behaviorist contemporary, Thorndike. In the realm of psychology, Rogers (1969) developed an influential perspective on teaching, stemming from his person-centered approach. He advocated a classroom experience that grows out of the authentic inquiry of the student. Rogers felt that the external locus of evaluation represented by traditional examinations and normative grading stifled the significant learning that grew out of a student-centered, responsive teaching environment. It was Rogers who faced off with B. F. Skinner in the 1950s and 1960s, debating the value of external control versus self-actualization in the enterprise of learning. In summary, a long tradition of philosophy and psychology has argued against externally controlling techniques as the via regia to student learning. Instead, this tradition focuses on nurturing the natural inclination to learn, the diversity of learning abilities and styles, and the importance of students' developing their powers of self-evaluation. Importantly, the last few decades have seen the emergence of several empirically focused motivation theories that supply some support for this perspective. Self-determination theory (SDT; Deci & Ryan, 1985; Ryan & Deci, 2000) is one such empirically based organismic perspective that views humans as intrinsically motivated to learn and develop competencies. However, the theory is centrally concerned with the conditions that support versus thwart these intrinsic propensities. SDT is thus particularly interested in the impact of events 20. Legislating Competence 361 such as evaluations, praise, and contingent rewards and punishments on behavior and learning. Specifically, SDT highlights the fact that students' motivation to learn can vary in its relative autonomy, from behaviors motivated by external rewards and punishments (controlled motivations) to those that are energized by interests and values (autonomous motivations). Both evidence and theory based on SDT suggest that, to the extent that one's motivation is based on more autonomous motives, such as intrinsic motivation or well-internalize d values, the more quality of learning, persistence, and affective experience are enhanced (Grolnick & Ryan, 1987; Ryan & La Guardia, 1999; Ryan, Stiller, & Lynch, 1994). On the other hand, SDT research has found that motivation based on more controlled motives, such as rewards or punishments (external regulations), or self-esteem-based pressures (e.g.,' ego involvement) is associated with lower quality learning, lessened persistence, and more negative emotional experience. Because HST policies are based on the idea that rewards, punishments, and self-esteem-based pressures are effective motivators of learning, the principles of SDT apply (Deci & Ryan, 2002; Ryan & La Guardia, 1999). In what follows, we summarize the theoretical basis for those hypotheses as they relate to teacher and student motivation, and review some of the evidence supporting the validity of these hypotheses. According to SDT the specific effects of external events such as evaluations or feedback on human motivation depend on the psychological meaning, or functional significance, that the events have for the recipient (Deci &C Ryan, 1980, 1985, 2000). The theory specifies that the functional significance of an external event, such as a test score, a tangible reward, or praise from a teacher, can be informational, controlling, or amo-tivating. Events have informational significance when they provide effectance-relevant feedback in a noncontrolling way; that is, when an event provides individuals with specific feedback that points the way to being more effective in meeting challenges or becoming more competent, and does so without pressuring or controlling the individuals, it tends to have a positive effect on self-motivation. Events have controlling sig- nificance when they are experienced as pressure toward specified outcomes or as an attempt to control the activity and effort of the individual. According to SDT, when evaluations have controlling significance, they may produce temporary compliance, but they ultimately undermine self-motivation, investment, and commitment in the domain of activity being evaluated. Finally, events have amotivating significance when the feedback conveys incompetence to the individuals or supplies no inner or outer rationale for acting. Evaluations or reward structures based on overly challenging standards, or that are perceived to be beyond the reach of the individuals, are thus amotivating: They undermine all motivation and lead to withdrawal of effort. Teaching that does not tap into a student's interests, or that does not supply a basis for the experience of relevance or meaning, can also foster amotivation. Both experimental and field studies have supported these predictions concerning the impact of events such as feedback and rewards on subsequent motivation. Extensive reviews are available elsewhere, but a few examples are worth detailing. In experiments with rewards, Ryan, Mims, and Koestner (1983) showed that reward structures delivered in an informational manner did not undermine intrinsic motivation, but rewards used to pressure people toward a specified outcome did. In another demonstration, Ryan (1982) showed that students who were pressured to perform by stressing that outcomes reflected ability (an ego-involving induction) were subsequently significantly less likely to engage with the target task than were students who were induced to focus on the task itself rather than task outcomes. In an experiment conducted within an elementary school, Grolnick and Ryan (1987) had students engage in a reading comprehension task under three conditions. In the first, students were told they would not be tested at all. In the second condition, they were told they would be tested, but only to determine what kinds of ideas were learned, so there were no consequences for failure or success. In a third condition, students were told they would be tested and graded, and that the grade would be delivered to their classroom teacher. This third condition represented a controlling use of 362 IV. CONTEXTUAL INFLUENCES evaluations. Results showed that the controlling evaluation condition promoted not only short-term, rote memory but also produced a significantly lower level of conceptual learning and knowledge integration than the two noncontrolling conditions. Evidence from these and related studies (e.g., Benware & Deci, 1984) indicates that when tests, evaluations, and rewards are used in controlling ways, they have negative effects on students' interest, motivation, and higher level cognitive outcomes in school. Classrooms studies have added to these findings by showing that when teachers are oriented toward being controlling (e.g., using evaluations and rewards), students are less intrinsically motivated, less desirous of challenge in school, and also less confident in their skills (e.g., Deci, Schwartz, Sheinman, & Ryan, 1981; Ryan & Grolnick, 1986). How Performance Standards Affect Teachers The finding that when teachers use controlling strategies and performance pressure to motivate students, the students become less self-motivated and less engaged in school, raises an interesting issue. What factors lead teachers to be controlling? One answer is that they may become controlling when they themselves are pressured to get children to perform. An experiment performed by Deci, Spiegel, Ryan, Koestner, and Kauffman (1982} addressed this issue. Participants simulated teachers with the task of helping students learn a cognitive-perceptual task. The teachers all had the same set of problems to work with and were given the same preparation. However, before entering the teaching session, one group was explicitly told that it was their job to make sure their students performed "up to high standards," whereas another group received no such pressure. The sessions were recorded and rated for differences in teaching strategies. The results showed that the participants who were explicitly pressured to produce high student achievement were more controlling and less supportive of students' autonomy. Specifically, teachers in the performance standards condition engaged in more lecturing, criticizing, praising, and directing—all techniques that have been shown to have a negative impact on students' interest in learning and their willingness to undertake greater academic challenges. Flink, Boggiano, and Barrett (1990) followed up on this reasoning by examining a newly introduced school-based curriculum for elementary students across several schools. They showed that, as predicted, teachers pressed toward higher standards were more likely to engage in controlling instructional behaviors. In line with SDT, the more they did so, the more their students actually performed more poorly on objective test-score outcomes. This is consistent with a wide body of literature linking evaluative pressure with poorer performance in schools (Kohn, 1996; Ryan & Stiller, 1991), as well as dropout rates (Hardre & Reeve, 2003). From the SDT perspective, creating a test-driven evaluative focus not only leads teachers to be more controlling but also leads students to be more externally regulated and/or ego involved in their motivational orientation. According to SDT, ego involvement is potentiated whenever a person's esteem is linked with attainment of specific outcomes (deCharms, 1968; Plant &c Ryan, 1985; Ryan, 1982). Accordingly, ego involvement can motivate effort, just as rewards can. However, like most performance-contingent rewards, ego involvement is a controlling form of extrinsic motivation, and it runs the risk of undermining internal motivations based in value or interest. Furthermore, unless one is ensured of success when applying effort, ego involvement can have deleterious immediate effects. The more ego involving a context, the more many students, particularly the less confident ones, withdraw effort in order to reduce the diagnosticity of tests and thus protect their self-esteem (Martin, Marsh, & Debus, 2001). Additionally, even for students who try to do well, such evaluation-based motivations tend to foster more superficial and less integrative learning processes, thus debilitating long-term knowledge retention and growth (Golan &c Graham, 1990; Grolnick & Ryan, 1987). Beyond this, the evidence suggests that focusing parents' concerns on performance outcomes will lead them, like teachers, to use pressuring motivational strategies that will backfire, leading to lower achievement over the long term (Ginsburg & Bronstein, 1993; Grolnick, 2003; Grolnick, Gurland, Decourcey, &c Jacob, 2002; Grolnick &C 20. Legislating Competence 363 Ryan, 1989). In short, pressure (whether it be through rewards or esteem-related threats) to meet externally dictated or controlled standards usually translates into lower quality teaching and less effective motivational practices, unwittingly undermining high-quality performance, as well as the interest and task involvement that facilitate it. It should also be mentioned that use of uniform evaluative standards for all students regardless of their starting points or resources, which is a invariant feature of HST policies, violates another tenet of SDT's approach to motivation. According to the theory, people are most intrinsically motivated when they are optimally challenged—when the tasks set by or for them are within reach. Tasks that are overly challenging have amotivational significance, and thus undermine motivation altogether, leading to lower effort withdrawal, helplessness, and lower' confidence and self-esteem (Deci & Ryan, 1985; Ryan & La Guardia, 1999; Vallerand & Reid, 1984). The evidence is clear: If the bar appears to be too high, many students will experience futility and withdraw their effort. People are simply not motivated by the prospect of failure. Moreover, test-based reforms seem to ignore the diversity of ways in which students both learn and demonstrate learning. As Gardner (1991) has argued, even a well-constructed test may be a nonoptimal challenge for some children, and may present a distorted picture of how well that student has mastered or understood material. Because the hallmark of HST is a single criterion, it favors those who are most apt within its format. Together, these tenets of SDT would suggest that HST will have a number of negative effects, many of which are undoubtedly unintended (see Ryan & LaGuardia, 1999). The controlling reward structure behind HST should, according to SDT, externally regulate the behavior of teachers. They are thus predicted to engage in those behaviors instrumentally tied to test scores, regardless of their inherent value or worth. One should thus see a narrowing of curricula, more teaching to the test, more controlling motivational techniques used in classrooms, and less positive experience on the part of students and teachers alike. Because of the mo- tivational dynamics set in motion in the classroom, SDT also predicts greater dropout rates among students, especially those at risk for failure or alienation, since withdrawal of effort is a common fallout of controlling and nonoptimal pressures, and uninspiring classroom practices. Systems such as state and district administrations will, because of the high stakes, be driven to "fuzzy accounting methods" (e.g., wavering standards), pushing out students who might bring down scores, and using other devices to maximize the target outcome, regardless of other costs of such behaviors. Yet, because there is pressure on narrowly defined test-score outcomes, scores on targeted tests should increase, but such increases will not necessarily generalize to other indices of achievement, because these increases were obtained through methods that do not incite more s elf-motivation, interest, and value for learning. Achievement Goal Theories: Divided Views on the Value of Performance Goals and High Stakes Another family of theories that has relevance to HST initiatives is those that concern performance versus mastery goals in the achievement domain, and the conditions that inspire them (e.g., Dweck & Leggett, 1988; Elliot, 1999; Nicholls, 1984; Pintrich, 2000). Although the theories differ in some details, the critically important distinction is between goals that are focused on increasing or developing one's competence or knowledge (called mastery or learning goals) and those focused on proving or demonstrating one's competence or ability (often called performance goals). HST, by focusing on the demonstration of specific test scores and using rewards to make that demonstration salient, represents an institutional climate that one might expect to catalyze performance goals; that is, by making the demonstration of competence the most salient issue, students, teachers, and administrators alike would be likely to adopt a performance goal orientation. A large body of evidence suggests that very different behaviors and quality of learning typically follow from performance versus learning and mastery goals. This evidence suggests that the more students are 364 IV CONTEXTUAL INFLUENCES focused on learning or mastery goals, the more extensively they enjoy learning, make greater use of higher level cognitive strategies, experience greater efficacy, and show better integration of what is learned (Ames & Archer, 1987; Elliot, McGregor, & Thrash, 2002; Midgley, Anderman, 6c Hicks, 1995; Midgley et al., 2001). Performance goals, by contrast, appear to foster a more superficial approach to learning, because the motivation is to demonstrate rather than attain competence. For example, a meta-analysis by Utman (1997) suggests that performance-focused goals can produce enhanced performance at rote or algorithmic tasks but tend to undermine performance at more heuristic or complex tasks. Furthermore, students with learning goals are often more willing to tackle challenges and difficult material, whereas those with performance goals are often more interested in demonstrating competencies already attained (Ames, 1992; Thorkildsen &C Nicholls, 1991). Finally, performance goals have been linked to greater self-handicapping (Martin et al., 2001; Urdan, Kneisel, & Mason, 1999) and may leave students more vulnerable to helplessness when failure occurs (Dweck, 2002). However, despite the numerous advantages of mastery goals in learning contexts, Elliot and his colleagues (see Elliot 8c" Thrash, 2002) introduced an important distinction within goal theories between performance-avoidance and performance-approach goals. Performance-avoidance goals concern situations in which the student is primarily motivated to avoid failure or negative outcomes in the demonstration of performance. Performance-approach goals refer to a more appetitive desire to positively demonstrate high performance. Much empirical literature supports the view that the adoption of performance-avoidance goals has many negative consequences. By contrast, performance-approach goals seem to show fewer detrimental effects and can inspire some positive consequences (Elliot &C Moller, in press). It is important to realize that current HST systems do not, at least strategically, aim differentially to foster performance-approach rather than performance-avoidance goals. Indeed, the rhetoric of HST suggests that advocates expect that both desire to attain suc- cess and fear of failing at these demonstrations are engendered. Indeed, they may activate both to different degrees, both across and within individuals (Elliot & Moller, in press; Midgley et al., 2001). Nonetheless, among the achievement motivation theorists focused on the performance versus the mastery goal distinction, opinions are divided as to the implications of the findings. Some theorists seem quite positive about having performance goals coupled with rewards be a central focus in classrooms. For example, Harackiewicz, Barron, Carter, Lehto, and Elliot (1997) argued that performance-approach goals are "adaptive" in settings where achievement is competitively defined or based on normative comparisons, because those whose adopted goal is to demonstrate high performance are more likely to do so. Hidi and Harackiewicz (2000) further advocate linking performance goals with extrinsic rewards. They speculated that performance goals linked with reward contingencies may be effective in promoting long-term interest and intrinsic motivation, especially among unmotivated and at-risk students. As Hidi (2002, p. 332) puts it: "Why should we assume that our children will produce high level schoolwork without expecting and receiving rewards?" Such thinking clearly mirrors the philosophy of HST advocates such as Bennett and Finn. In contrast, other researchers in this domain hold that a focus on promoting performance demonstrations rather than mastery development in real-world classrooms will yield few positive and many negative motivational outcomes. Midgely et al. (2001), for example, highlight the fact that an emphasis on performance goals at best supports and rewards only highly achievement-oriented students who are certain about their abilities, and even for many of them, it leads to an extrinsic and superficial focus, and to vulnerability, if academic setbacks occur. In a context that emphasizes performance goals, they further suggest that many students, especially those with lower or uncertain abilities, will show increased self-protective strategies such as self-handicapping and withdrawal of effort. Thus, performance-focused classrooms may lead some students to be more extrinsically motivated to perform well, but, at the same time, it will lead to lessened intrinsic motivation and 20. Legislating Competence 365 withdrawal of effort among those at risk for failure, a prediction in opposition to the view of Hidi and Harackiewicz (2000). Between these views, Elliot and Moller (in press), even while highlighting the clear benefits of students adopting performance-approach goals, suggest that institutional policies should still be directed toward a mastery focus. For them, performance-approach goals, when they arise, are a natural expression of competence urges (Elliot et al., 2002). However, in their view, policies aimed at performance put many students at risk for undermining effects, because many will adopt an avoidance focus under such a circumstance. Thus, performance-mastery goal theories lack consensus regarding the effects of establishing performance goals as a modus operandi in schools and, by implication, on the effects of HST reforms. Some in this tradition suggest a positive influence of performance goals linked with contingent rewards on promoting interest and achievement efforts, whereas others suggest that a performance goal focus backed by high stakes will lead to numerous deleterious results, especially for at-risk students. Still others suggest the need to develop strategies that could foster performance-approach orientations, without simultaneously generating performance-avoidance concerns in the same setting, although ways to do that have not been explicated. THE RESULTS OF HIGH'STAKES TESTING Given the clear, yet opposing predictions from theories of motivation on the impact of HST, it is interesting to look at what the accumulating evidence actually shows. It is important to note that full-fledged HST programs are still being phased in within most states; thus, the full impact of HST has not yet been felt. In addition, although anecdotes abound, only a few credible empirical studies are available. Nonetheless, there is a growing body of evidence associated with these initiatives, and we review the most extensive studies to date. Moon, Callahan, and Tomlinson (2003) surveyed a nationally stratified random sample of teachers on the effects of state HST programs on their classroom practices. Results indicated that classroom practices were strongly affected, especially in schools serving students in the lowest socioeconomic strata. Teacher reports suggested that HST was indeed salient, and that increases in test scores are not necessarily a result of student academic attainment, but are more due to test preparation. Test preparation associated with HST was reported to drive out other instructional activities, because much time was taken in the classroom to review and practice for state testing. Test preparation was especially intense in poorer districts. The authors speculated that one result of HST is a narrowing of the curriculum and the implementation of practices that may actually run counter to effective instruction, student self-direction and autonomy, and opportunities for interaction between students. Indeed, the authors suggested that the very salience of HST in the minds of teachers may be restricting educational opportunities, particularly among those from the most impoverished areas. Moon et al. further suggested that when teachers specifically teach to the test, the scores may no longer represent the broader domain of knowledge for which they are supposed to be an indicator, especially in schools serving disadvantaged students, where the test preparation was reported to be more intensive. A study by McNeil and Valenzuela (2000) of Texas teachers arrived at similar conclusions. They found that teachers were encouraged or required to reallocate time away from core subjects not tested on the state examinations, and to eliminate or curtail special projects, experiments, library research, extensive writing, or oral assignments. This was especially true in schools that might be lower in absolute performance levels (i.e., those serving less affluent students). Much time was also reported being spent specifically on test-taking strategies rather than substantive issues. Evidence that HST leads to "teaching to the test," which in turn crowds out the teaching of skills not on the tests and the provision of enriched experiences that might better engage students' interest in additional knowledge seeking, may underlie the concern with the generalizability of score gains. This issue can be partly addressed by examining transfer, or the extent to which gains 366 IV CONTEXTUAL INFLUENCES on HST are reflected in evidence of improved achievement on other, nontargeted measures. Little research exists on the validity of test-score increases on HST, despite the fact that it is a crucial bone of contention between HST advocates and their opponents. Perhaps the most comprehensive look at this issue was an 18-state study by Amrein and Berliner {2002). To test the transfer of score increases on high-stakes examinations, they obtained scores on non-HST that overlap with HST in their assessment of achievement domains. These were the ACT (established by the American College Testing Program), Scholastic Aptitude Test (SAT), National Assessment of Educational Progress (NAEP), and Advanced Placement (AP) tests. Their evidence suggested, contrary to that of HST advocates, that when transfer is considered, level of learning in those states with salient HST policies remains level or falls below previous levels once HST is implemented. In contrast, states without high-stakes graduation tests were more likely than states that had imposed them to show improvements on these outside tests. Indeed more than two-thirds of states posted decreases on ACT performance after high-stakes graduation exams were implemented. Neil and Gaylor (2001), using the NAEP as a metric, similarly showed that states without HST were more likely to show score improvements than states with them; that is, NAEP scores were not improved by HST initiatives, and they also had many other potentially negative consequences. They specifically suggested that HST may widen educational outcome inequities between the rich and the poor rather than ameliorate them. With so much attention paid to test scores, an equally important gauge of school performance is high school dropout rate. Although dropouts are hard to track and are often systematically misreported (Orfield, losen, Wald, oč Swanson, 2004), available data show that both dropouts and students leaving high schools for equivalency diplomas are on the rise, with notable escalation in the past few years as HST policies have intensified. Indeed, Reardon and Galindo (2002), for example, studying students between 8th- and lOth-grade in districts with and without HST policies, estimated that the imposition of HST increased the odds of dropout by 39%. Although accounts differ, one possibility is that as states required students to pass tests for promotion, more pupils were held back. In turn, convincing data suggests that the mere fact of retention dramatically increases the probability of dropout (Natriello, 1998). In addition, if one assumes that HST imposes even modestly more difficult standards, that, too, could lead to a motivation and discouragement among students already at risk for failure. A related issue is the concern that HST may lead many students to seek a general equivalency diplomas (GED). Studies comparing high school graduates to young people who received equivalency diplomas show that even among those with similar academic scores, those who complete high school have higher earnings, secure better employment, and commit fewer crimes. One reasonable account of this is that the confidence, self-esteem, and work habits of young adults is greater if they graduate from high school than if they drop out to earn a GED, and that confidence translates into better adult outcomes. In other words, if HST drives students out of school, this has costs, most of which will be borne by children from lower income families. Jacob (2001) examined the effects of high-stakes high school examinations on student retention, especially among low achievers, who, some have argued, would most benefit from a performance-based focus (e.g., Hidi & Harackiewicz, 2000). His findings, based on analysis of data from 15 states, showed that students in the bottom 20th percentile of achievement who faced such requirements were 25% more likely to drop out in states with tests. He also found, however, that use of the tests had no significant effect on subsequent academic achievement for the population considered as a whole. Another way to examine the impact of HST policies is to examine the results in Texas, where the most widely cited and lauded HST program has been in place since the early 1990s. HST policies in Texas have been described in the press as the "Texas Miracle," and have become a model for other reform efforts, including the federal NCLB program. This enthusiasm was partially based on the fact that scores on the 20. Legislating Competence 367 Texas State Achievement Tests (the TAAS) had shown large gains under the high-stakes regimen; TAAS scores provided evidence of a decreasing gap between minority and white students. An independent report by Grissmer, Flanagan, Kawata, and Williamson (2000) of the RAND Corporation initially suggested that the high-stakes policies themselves might have facilitated this positive trend. However a subsequent report by RAND investigators (Klein, Hamilton, McCaffrey, & Stecher, 2000) found that such gains in TAAS scores did not match trends on other measures, raising serious questions about the meaning of these achievement gains, or their transfer, and about the validity of the score gains. With regard to the achievement gap, results from other tests besides the TAAS also suggested that the gap might have slightly widened in Texas, over the same period that TAAS scores suggested it was closing. At the same time, evidence of higher grade retention and dropout rates in Texas has accumulated (Haney, 2000), and outright cheating on results has been documented (Hoff, 2000; Johnston, 1999). Haney (2000) found that increased dropout rates in Texas were especially high among Latino and African American students. Haney linked these dropouts with aggregate score gains, arguing that Texas students' gains in NAEP scores were directly related to exclusion rates. Haney concluded that the apparent rise in scores was illusory. Tracking these dropouts, Haney found that approximately one-third of students leave school before graduation, often as a direct result of being retained in grade 9 by schools focused on obtaining good HST scores. Moreover, evidence from Texas points to considerable teaching to the test, again, especially intensively in low-performing schools serving pockets of poverty and minority students. Such teaching to the test can give the appearance of "closing the gap" when that is not occurring, because of the criterion contamination this behavior causes (Carnoy, Loeb, & Smith, 2000; McNeil & Valenzuela, 2000). For such reasons, Popham (1999) concludes that judgments about school quality based on changes in HST scores are not likely to be valid. Despite the limitations of the empirical studies thus far conducted, it is not unrea- sonable to suggest that the evidence points to the very kinds of changes predicted by some of the motivational theories we reviewed. Under HST, outcome-focused behavior change does indeed occur, no doubt due to the power of rewards and sanctions. Yet these changes are often a "monkey's paw," representing deleterious classroom and institutional processes that hurt especially the most vulnerable populations. This in turn suggests that the HST policies may be exacerbating the problem they are designed to correct. Nonetheless, these negative results should not be taken as a definitive summary or as the final chapter. We reiterate that the results of HST policies are still unfolding. At the same time, there are clearly problems with the impact of HST, which predictably motivates counterproductive processes in both classroom and school administration arenas. It is ultimately the economically disadvantaged students, as well as the frontline teachers who serve them, that appear to suffer the most serious costs. MOTIVATION THEORIES AND EDUCATIONAL REFORM One conclusion we reach from reviewing this material concerns the relevance of debates between theories of motivation to policies attempting to legislate competence in schools. We have underscored how policymakers have, at both state and federal levels, enacted policies driven by a naive behaviorism in their attempts to motivate improvements in school performance. Unlike behav-iorists, however, they have applied rewards and sanctions contingently upon performance outcomes (test scores) rather than desired behaviors, and they have also not appreciated the well-documented deleterious effects that even a well-structured contingency management approach can yield in domains such as learning and education. At the same time, results bespeak the power of such contingencies to change behavior, if not necessarily for the better. The specific deleterious effects of such high-stakes policies have been predictable, and sometimes explicitly predicted by some motivational perspectives, whereas others have not addressed these "collateral" conse- 368 IV CONTEXTUAL INFLUENCES quences. Most notably, self-determination theory has specifically argued that these reforms would foster teaching to the test, narrowing of the learning experience, relatively poor transfer of knowledge, and increased dropouts among those most disadvantaged (Ryan & LaGuardia, 1999; Ryan & Stiller, 1991). All of these predictions have come home to roost in states that have used HST. Similar deleterious effects may have been predictable from some goal theories as well, particularly the perspectives of Dweck (2002) and Midgeley et al. (2001). These views stand in contrast to the views of those who have advocated greater emphasis on performance goals in classrooms linked with high stakes. Rather than facilitating achievement in at-risk students, such motivational interventions seem especially harmful to vulnerable groups. If nothing else, one lesson we should learn from this is that our theoretical and empirical differences are far from merely "academic." SOME POLICY IMPLICATIONS Empirical research is critical to informed policy in education, yet the gulf between the types of reforms suggested by educational research and those being implemented by policymakers appears vast. In part, this stems from the fact that policymakers want clear-cut actions, an urge that the implementation of high-stakes and standardized tests appears to satisfy. At the same time, as the effects of this "natural experiment" unfold, we should make sense of the results and outcomes, learning from the implementation (Hamilton, Stecher, & Klien, 2002). To do so we use the lens of SDT, which has specifically predicted many of these effects. The SDT perspective suggests that tests can have both informational and controlling effects, and the high-stakes approach has largely undermined the informational value of standardized testing. Policymakers might first remember the purpose of testing: To gain information that can be used to advocate for those assessed. The informational use of tests would be represented by using tests to help identify students who may be most disadvantaged and in need of resources, and perhaps to identify curricular issues or problems with teaching methods. Informational use of tests would also require that they be useful to teachers—that they would not simply be a scorecard at the end of a year, but a useful indicator of gaps in knowledge, while there is still time to redress the situation. The current practice in most HST states is year-end testing, with individual score reports often not going to the teacher who taught the subject matter until the following year, which is of little educational benefit to the participating students. More importantly, the positive effects that can come from the informational function of tests are undermined when policymakers place high stakes behind test outcomes. The implementation of high-stakes contingencies based upon test performance, which are intended as "motivators," actually do have a strong impact. They lead to practices that distort the validity of the outcomes, and that instigate deleterious institutional behaviors. They narrow curricula, decrease individualized approaches, and make even more vulnerable those students who are at risk for retention and dropout. Taking the stakes out of the heart of testing policies would make the testing more informationally valuable. Whereas high stakes contaminate the criterion, removing the stakes might make standardized testing all the more useful, and less engendering of damaging processes. A further important issue concerns the fact that any standardized paper-and-pencil measure may be a poor fit with the learning and performance styles of some learners, making it inappropriate as a sole criterion for attaining credentials. "One size fits all" as a model of outcomes is a regressive step in schools, where for years educators have been developing approaches to address more effectively diversity in learning styles, interests, and skills. Moreover, basing high-stakes decisions on a single indicator is unfair to students, and even unethical, given the lack of validity of most of the tests for this purpose (American Educational Research Association, 2000). Accountability does not need to be actualized by only a single, uniform test. Instead, schools that use alternative approaches and curricula could develop and justify alternative assessments. This would in fact lead toward greater innovation rather than drying up choice and diversity, which has been the trend under HST. In a context where testing was used for in- 20. Legislating Competence 369 formational rather than controlling purposes, educational experiments might actually permit better judgement on their effectiveness, and indeed catalyze more innovation and progress. For instance, there appears to be growing evidence that high schools organized into small schools or learning communities, where personalized attention is available, are effective in promoting achievement (e.g., Howley Sc Bickel, 2000; Meier, 1998; National Research Council, 2004). Effective non-high-stakes testing could both verify and extend such data, and be a basis for justifying such structural reforms to policymakers and taxpayers. Similarly, an innovative and highly successful experiment in redesigning urban high schools was the creation of the New York Performance Standards Consortium (NYPSC) schools. These schools had served as models and were recognized for their high educational standards, high attendance, and low dropout and college success rates (Darling-Hammond, Ancess, & Ort, 2002). However, NYPSC schools were built around a portfolio-based assessment system that was deemed integral to the form of instruction, which itself was highly individualized rather than standardized. These successful schools are being forced under New York's rigidly enacted high-stakes regimen to change their practices and teach to the tests. In a non-high-stakes atmosphere, standardized tests might have been one among several useful indices affirming their efficacy, but in a high-stakes atmosphere, the curriculum will be bent to the shape of tests, and a successful innovation stifled. An important take-home point is that the introduction of high stakes behind test scores distorts the validity of tests as an indicator of true excellence in the classroom, or of school quality. Amrein and Berliner (2002) described this distortion effect by evoking the Heisenberg Uncertainty Principle. According to the principle, the more important any quantitative indicator becomes in decision making, the more likely it will distort and corrupt the process it is intended to monitor. Because high-stakes policies attach reward and punishment contingent on test scores, they especially have such distorting and corrupting consequences. They make the meaning of test score changes questionable, and they make inferences from score changes problematic. Combined with the fact that most states use percentage-passing rates on tests that are not equivalent from year to year, many of the inferences concerning the outcomes of reform are without a sound scientific basis. 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Dynamic influences of culture on cooperation in the Prisoner's Dilemma. Psychological Science. Yu, A-b., & Yang, K-s. (1994). The nature of achievement motivation in collectivist societies. In U. Kim, H. C. Triandis, C. Kagitcibasi, G. Choi, & G. Yoon (Eds.), Individualism and collectivism: Theory, method and applications (pp. 239-266). Thousand Oaks, CA: Sage. PART VI ca S elf-Regulatory Processes SELF-REGULATED LEARNING CHAPTER 27 The Hidden Dimension of Personal Competence Self-Regulated Learning and Practice BARRY J. ZIMMERMAN ANASTASIA KITSANTAS As each generation traverses the path from childhood to adulthood, its sense of personal identity and esteem is determined by its perceived competence in diverse areas of functioning (Bandura, 1997). The importance of attaining academic competence is widely recognized (Covington, 1992), but other personal competencies also figure prominently in youths' sense of self— especially their athletic prowess (Horn & Hasbrook, 1987; Smoll, Smith, Barnett, & Everett, 1993). More than 50% of all American boys and girls participate in athletic programs between the age of 8 and 18, and millions more participate in interscholastic programs (Ewing & Seefeldt, 1995}. But how do these youth acquire high levels of academic and athletic competence? There is evidence that the attainment of peak levels of academic and athletic competence requires more than basic talent and high-quality instruction; it also involves self- belief, diligence, and self-discipline. The importance of this often hidden self-regulatory dimension of competence was stressed by Amby Burfoot (1997, p. 189), the 1986 Boston Marathon Champion: "I've always been one of those slow-but-steady runners. If I won a lot of races in my day, my success didn't come from any excess of athletic brilliance. It came from discipline and determination, from the fact that í stuck to my programs and goals no matter how slow and sometimes frustrating the progress." There are considerable empirical data to support Burfoot's observation about the importance of self-disciplined learning and practice. For example, Ericsson (1997) has found that high achievers in diverse fields, such as sport, dance, and music, started their learning and practiced at a younger age than lower achievers, and that their competence is directly related to the time they spent in these self-directed endeavors. 509 510 VI. SELF-REGULATORY PROCESSES A social cognitive perspective regarding acquisition of academic and athletic competence focuses on the role of learners' social and self-regulatory processes during extensive study and practice. In this chapter, we describe self-regulation, explain the origins and inertia of self-empowering cycles of learning on individuals' academic and athletic competence, and describe how self-regulatory competence emerges from social modeling experiences in a series of levels. DEFINING SELF-REGULATION AND DESCRIBING KEY SELF-REGULATORY PROCESSES Although every student has some sense of what it means to self-regulate, most personal definitions involve vague beliefs about personal willpower. Although beliefs about self-regulation are important, social cognitive researchers also emphasize the role of specific self-initiated personal, behavioral, and environmental processes designed to attain personal goals cyclically (Zimmerman, 1989). Cyclical adjustments are necessary during the course of learning and performance, because individuals' personal, behavioral, and environmental factors are in constant flux and must be observed or monitored using three self-oriented feedback loops. Behavioral self-regulation involves self-observing and strategically adjusting performance processes, such as one's method of learning or performing, whereas environmental self-regulation refers to observing and adjusting environmental conditions or outcomes, such as one's place for studying or practicing. Covert self-regulation involves monitoring and adjusting cognitive and affective states, such as strategies for remembering or relaxing. To optimize their effectiveness, learners develop self-regulatory plans that involve all three triadic components (Bandura, 1986). There is extensive evidence that successful students and academics, such as professional writers and athletes, use an array of self-regulatory processes to optimize their learning and performance (Zimmerman, 1998). For example, the key self-regulatory process of "goal setting" refers to specifying intended actions or ends (Locke & Latham (1990). The American baseball star, Steve Garvey, described the importance of goal setting in the following terms, "You have to set goals that are almost out of reach. If you set a goal that is attainable without much work or thought you are stuck with something below your true talent and potential" (Anderson, 1997, p. 85). The American novelist William Faulkner put it similarly: "Always dream and shoot higher than you know you can do. Don't bother just to be better than your contemporaries or predecessors. Try to be better than yourself" (Cowley, 1959, p. 123). Novelists, such as Anthony Trollope and Ernest Hemingway, set daily or weekly page completion writing goals for themselves to guide their literary progress (Wallace & Pear, 1977). Another key self-regulatory process is "task strategies," which refers to analyzing tasks and identifying specific, advantageous methods for learning or performing various components of a task. For example, the legendary golfer Sam Snead (1989) would purposely move his ball to the worst lie during practice rounds, because this strategy helped him "develop the shots you need to scramble out of trouble as well as teach you how much you can realistically afford to gamble when in a jam" (p. 160). Many professional writers intentionally end their daily efforts in midsentence, because they have discovered that this practice helps them subsequently to initiate writing (Murray, 1990). The self-regulatory process of "imagery" refers to creating or recalling vivid mental images to assist learning (Pressley, 1977). One of the most successful golfers of all time, Jack Nicklaus (1992), regularly used visual images to guide his practice and competitive play. The Pulitzer Prize-winning writer Donald Murray (1990) also uses imagery to enhance his writing. "I see what I write and many times the focus of my writing is in my image" (p. 97). The self-regulatory process of "self-instruction" refers to overt or subvocal verbalization to guide performance (Meichenbaum, 1977). To help control their temper, athletes attending the Bolletieri Tennis Academy, where champions such as Monica Seles and Andre Agassi trained, are asked to express positive alternative statements, such as saying "Let it go" or "Come on" (p. 47) to focus or motivate themselves (Loehr, 1991). Professional writers also rely on listening to themselves develop their own personal voice. "As I draft, I 27. Self-Regulated Learning 511 write with my ear, hearing the language before it is on the page, following the beat, the melody, the phrasing that will reveal meaning to me" (Murray, 1990, p. 96). The self-regulatory process of "time management" refers to estimating and budgeting use of time. Many elite athletes avoid burnout and stagnation by limiting their daily practice to approximately 4-5 hours, and by avoiding long practice episodes without periods of rest and sleep (Ericsson, 1997). Professional writers also manage their time by setting limits on daily writing efforts. The poet Philip Larkin cautioned, "I don't think you can write a poem for more than two hours. After that you're going round in circles, and it's much better to leave it for twenty-four hours. Some days it goes, and some days it doesn't go. But over weeks and months I am productive" (Murray, 1990, p. 16). Another key form of self-regulation is' "self-monitoring," which involves observing and tracking one's own performance and outcomes. Self-recording one's processes and outcomes can greatly assist self-monitoring, such as when students form lists of key terms and check them off as they memorize them for a forthcoming test. The legendary golfer Ben Hogan (1957, pp. 37-38) once wrote about self-monitoring and self-recording, "Golf also seems to bring out the scientist in the person. He soon discovers that unless he goes about observing and testing with an orderly method, he is simply complicating his problems." Writers also rely on self-recording to guide their creative efforts. "The process log or daybook will help you make the process yours, will give you a chance to see how you write when the writing goes well. If you are to keep improving your writing, you need to build on the procedures you used that have worked" (Murray, 1990, p. 14). A closely related self-regulatory process is "self-evaluation," which refers to using standards to make self-judgments, such as when students compare their homework answers with those of other students. Standards need to be set appropriately, so that they are challenging but attainable. The poet William Safford warned that excessive self-evaluative standards are a major cause of writer's "block" (Murray, 1990). The famous golfer, Walter Hagen, prevented himself from re- sponding negatively to errors by assuming beforehand that he would make three or four errors during each round (Nicklaus, 1992). This realistic self-evaluative standard enabled him to shrug off the frustration when an error occurred. The self-regulatory process of "environmental structuring" involves selecting or creating effective physical settings for learning, such as when students seek out a quiet section of the home or dormitory to study more effectively. Athletes have often gone to special lengths to structure their training environments to increase their chances of success. To prepare himself to win the Tour de France in the mountainous sections of the racecourse, the American bicycle racer, Lance Armstrong, would sleep during training in a low-oxygen tent to adapt himself physiologically to high-altitude conditions ahead of time (Abt, 2001). The novelist William Faulkner humorously recommended a brothel as an ideal setting for writing, because "the place is quiet during the morning hours which is the best time of the day to work" (Cowley, 1959, p. 124). The self-regulatory process of adaptive "help seeking" involves choosing models, teachers, or books to assist one to learn. Adaptive help seeking is distinguished from social dependence by three key characteristics: self-initiation, selective focus, and limited duration of help seeking. There is considerable evidence that students who are not self-regulated avoid asking for assistance because of concern about adverse social consequences of such requests (Newman, 1994). By contrast, self-regulated students seek help selectively by knowing who and what to ask. Getting social feedback on a selective basis is essential for high-level attainment among athletes, as well as students. For example, if Jack Nicklaus (1992) noticed that some bad habits had crept into his golf stroke, he would ask his former golf coach for assistance in identifying the errors and correcting them. "In my case, Jack Grout can get me back to fundamentals in minutes, whereas it might take me weeks of trial and error to iron out a basic fault on my own" (p. 136). These anecdotal accounts illustrate the rich variety of self-regulatory processes that students and athletes use to achieve peak performance. The results of their personal 512 VI. SELF-REGULATORY PROCESSES experiences during many hours of self-directed learning and practice convinced them of the effectiveness of these techniques in acquiring and refining mastery of their field of endeavor. Although the ultimate effectiveness of a self-regulated learning process depends on the quality of its triadic match to the individual, environment, and behavioral task involved, there is growing evidence that students who use self-regulatory processes frequently enjoy greater success and are more motivated, as we discuss next. ROLE OF SELF-REGULATORY PROCESSES IN ENHANCING MOTIVATION AND ACHIEVEMENT To investigate the impact of self-regulatory processes in students' academic functioning, Zimmerman and Martinez-Pons (1986) developed a structured interview, the Self-Regulation Learning Interview Schedule (SRLIS), that involved asking students to respond to a series of common learning problems or contexts, such as "Most teachers give a test at the end of a marking period, and those tests greatly determine the final grade. Do you have a particular method for preparing for a test in classes like English or history?" The students' answers to these open-ended questions were coded into academic self-regulatory process categories, similar to those we described earlier, or a non-self-regulatory "other" category. The differences in the verbal protocols of students assigned to high- and regular-achievement tracks in school were significant in terms of both the quality and quantity of self-regulatory processes reported: High achievers surpassed regular achievers significantly in 13 of the 14 processes that were studied. High achievers not only reported greater use of personal self-regulatory processes, such as rehearsing and memorizing, but also social assistance processes, such as help seeking from teachers, classmates, and other adults. The other personal processes that were assessed included self-evaluation, organizing and transforming, seeking information, keeping records and monitoring, environmental structuring, providing self-consequences, and reviewing (e.g., tests, texts, and notes). It should be noted that students' reports of task strategies would be classified within the organizing and transforming category of the SRLIS, and the self-verbalization and imagery processes would be classified within the rehearsing and memorizing category. Time management answers were classified within goal setting and planning or keeping records and monitormg categories of the SRLIS, depending on the details. As a context-specific measure, the SRLIS assessed students' self-regulation during the course of typical academic assignments, such as reading, studying, and test preparation. However, students' statements that failed to indicate self-initiation (e.g., "I just do the assignment") or students' nonstrategic willpower statements (e.g., "I just try harder") were negatively related to achievement outcomes. Thus, students' responses to academic problems that were merely reactive to the prompts of others were associated with poorer learning. Although individual processes were assessed separately, it was expected that high-achieving students would use them in combination, which in fact was observed (Zimmerman & Martinez-Pons, 1986). As a result, the SRLIS was also analyzed as an omnibus measure of self-regulative functioning both in this study and in subsequent research. Students' combined use of self-regulatory processes accounted for 93% of the variance of their high school achievement track placement and was also highly predictive of their performance on a standardized test. Ley and Young (1998) reported similar omnibus findings using the SRLIS to identify developmentally delayed students entering a community college. They found that these at-risk students were identified from regular students with 94% accuracy based on their reports of academic self-regulation. Purdie and Hattie (1996) used a questionnaire variant of the SRLIS (i.e., without an interviewer's probing) to study self-regulation by Australian and Japanese high school students, and found that high achievers surpassed medium and low achievers in using most of the self-regulated learning strategies. In a subsequent study, Zimmerman and Martinez-Pons (1988) sought to validate the SRLIS against teachers' observations of their students' self-regulation in class. These teacher ratings of students dealt with overt manifestations of self-regulation in class, such as items referring to students who so- 27. Self-Regulated Learning 513 licit additional information about tests (help seeking), display awareness concerning test performance before it is graded (self-monitoring and self-evaluation), complete assignments before deadlines (goal setting and attainment), and are prepared to participate in class (strategic planning). Because self-regulation involves self-initiation and perseverance, students' self-motivational beliefs are essential. Several indices of students' motivation were included in the teacher-completed scale: Does a student express interest in the course matter (intrinsic interest?) Does a student volunteer for special tasks related to the coursework (a learning goal orientation)? These researchers found that these teacher-derived measures of students' classroom functioning formed a single, large underlying self-regulation factor, and that the teacher-derived factor was highly correlated with the students' reports of using self-regulated learning strategies on the SRLIS. These researchers also discovered that the students' underlying self-regulation factor was distinctive from but significantly correlated with their scores on standardized tests of achievement. This indicated the divergent, as well as the convergent, validity of the teacher rating scale. Evidence that motivation measures loaded on the same factor as the self-regulatory process measures confirmed that self-regulation processes and motivation were closely associated. Zimmerman and Martinez-Pons (1990) subsequently studied developmental differences in self-regulated learning strategy use with 5th-, 8th-, and llth-grade students attending regular or gifted schools. Another key motivational belief was studied: self-efficacy, which refers to beliefs about personal capability to perform specific tasks at a designated level of proficiency. These researchers created a self-efficacy scale by selecting from a standardized test mathematical problems and verbal definition problems that ranged in difficulty from elementary school to high school levels. Students were asked to rate their confidence about answering each math or verbal item correctly. The researchers found significant developmental differences in use of self-regulated learning processes. Both regular and gifted students reported developmental increases in overall use of self-regulation processes, but gifted students surpassed regular students at each grade level. These researchers also found that developmental increases in students' use of self-regulation processes corresponded to developmental increases in their verbal and mathematical s elf-efficacy. This indicates that use of self-regulatory processes is related closely to this form of motivation. Two forms of self-efficacy beliefs have been studied to date: self-efficacy for performance or learning (including the use of self-regulation processes to learn). For example, self-efficacy for math performance involve judgments of capability to solve particular problems, whereas self-efficacy for learning involves a student's belief that he or she can learn the necessary processes to solve a particular problem (Schunk, 1989). There is evidence that self-efficacy for learning mathematical fraction problems is predictive of posttest self-efficacy for math problem-solving performance (Schunk, Hanson, & Cox, 1987). The former form of self-efficacy is particularly important when predicting students' motivation to learn an unfamiliar skill, such as a foreign language. Self-efficacy for self-regulated learning processes refers to self-beliefs about personal competence in using processes, such as goal setting, strategy use, and sel f-monitoring, to learn. There is evidence that perceived efficacy for self-regulated learning processes is also predictive of perceived efficacy to perform. Zimmerman, Bandura, and Martinez-Pons (1992) investigated whether high school students' perceptions of self-efficacy regarding self-regulatory skill to learn were predictive of their self-efficacy for academic achievement performance. These researchers assessed self-efficacy for self-regulated learning through ratings of strategies similar to those assessed by the SRLIS, and they assessed self-efficacy for academic achievement using a range of academic subjects, such as math, science, and social studies. They found that self-efficacy for self-regulated learning was indeed linked to self-efficacy for academic achievement. The latter form of self-efficacy for performance, in turn, was predictive of the students' grade goals, as well as their final grades in social studies. Self-efficacy for academic achievement was also indirectly predictive of students' final grades through the goals they set. Interestingly, the self-efficacy and goal-setting measures (given in the fall) increased 514 VI. SELF-REGULATORY PROCESSES the prediction of the final grades in the spring by 31% compared to the students' social studies grade from the previous year. Clearly students' perceived efficacy to self-regulate learning was highly predictive of actual goal setting and academic success. Very similar findings were reported in a follow-up study with college students enrolled in an introductory writing course (Zimmerman Sc Bandura, 1994). Students' self-efficacy for self-regulation of learning to write was predictive of their self-efficacy for attaining high grades in the course. The latter form of self-efficacy was in turn predictive of the students' writing goals, as well as their final grade in the course. Similarly, in athletic contexts, self-efficacy beliefs and self-regulatory processes, such as goal setting, have been highly predictive of personal effectiveness. Regarding self-efficacy, there is extensive evidence that athletes' self-efficacy beliefs are correlated positively with their levels of athletic performance (see Feltz, 1992, for a review). In a recent meta-analysis of 45 studies, Moritz, Feltz, Fahrbach, and Mack (2000) found that the average correlation between self-efficacy and sport performance was .38. Regarding the link between self-efficacy beliefs and self-regulation, athletes who report high self-efficacy beliefs regarding their performance are more likely to set challenging goals and devise strategies that will help them accomplish these goals. For example, Kane, Marks, Zaccaro, and Blair (1996) conducted a study to examine relations among measures of prior performance, self-efficacy, goals, and individual performance with 216 wrestlers competing at a wrestling camp. In general, findings showed that athletes' prior success in wrestling positively influenced their self-efficacy beliefs, which in turn affected the level of goals they set and, consequently, their performance. More interestingly, self-efficacy was found to be the only significant predictor of athletes' performance in overtime matches. Goal setting has also received considerable attention in terms of its relevance in athletic motivation. Research indicates that proper establishment of goals plays an important role in an athlete's motivation, effort, and performance in sports (Roberts, 1992; Zimmerman Sc Kitsantas, 1996). Specifically, setting specific, difficult, yet attain- able process goals has been associated with higher motivation and sport performance (Locke & Latham, 1990; Zimmerman Sc Kitsantas, 1996). Overall, goals not only direct athletes' attention to the task but also motivate them to search for effective strategies and strategically plan the next course of action. Thus, there is compelling research evidence that self-regulated learning processes are predictive of both enhanced motivation and superior academic and athletic performance outcomes. However, how are these processes and motivational beliefs sustained by personal feedback, and how are they structurally linked to other sources of motivation? What leads successful student athletes to develop self-enhancing cycles of learning? A CYCLICAL VIEW OF ACADEMIC AND ATHLETIC SELF-REGULATION OF LEARNING AND PERFORMANCE To assess students' use of self-regulatory processes during ongoing efforts learn, social cognitive researchers (e.g., Zimmerman, 2000) have distinguished three cyclical self-regulatory phases: forethought, performance, and self-reflection (see Figure 27.1). Forethought phase processes and beliefs prepare individuals to learn. Performance phase processes influence attention, volition, and action, and self-reflection phase processes influence individuals' reactions to this learning. These self-reflective reactions cyclically influence forethought regarding subsequent learning efforts. Because of its cyclical nature, this model seeks to explain learning in informal contexts, where the goal is often a long-term continuing process of growth rather than a discrete outcome, such as when learning a foreign language or a lifelong sport, such as golf, tennis, or skiing. Forethought Phase These self-regulatory processes and beliefs fall into two major categories: task analysis processes and self-motivation beliefs. In both academic and athletic fields of endeavor, highly self-regulatory individuals analyze the learning task prior to performance, whether it involves math problems or bas- 27. Self-Regulated Learning 515 Performance Phase Self-Control Self-instruction Imagery Attention focusing Task strategies Self-Observation Metacognitive monitoring Self-recording Forethought Phase Task Analysis Goal setting Strategic planning Self-Motivation Beliefs Self-efficacy Outcome expectations Task interest/valuing Goal orientation Self-Reflection Phase Self-Judgment Self-evaluation Causal attribution Self-Reaction Sel f-sati sfacti on/áffect Adaptive/defensive nG^ľr^1A--Pra%eLTÍ ^5™ of self-regulation. From Zimmerman and Campillo (2003, p. 239). Copyright 2003 by Cambridge University Press. Reprinted by permission. ketball free throws. Highly self-regulated individuals break the task into component parts and set goals for learning the parts hierarchically, with subprocess and process goals linked to more distant outcome goals (Burfoot, 1997; Carver Sc Scheier, 2000), such as bending one's legs, positioning one's hands, and following through with one's arms during a basketball free throw). To reach these goals, highly self-regulated learners must plan strategies that are appropriate for the task and environmental setting (Weinstein Sc Mayer, 1986). For example, students may set subprocess goals in carrying out steps for solving math fractions and link them to the outcome goal of getting a higher grade on the next test (DeCorte Verschaffel, Sc Op'T Eynde, 2000). The advantage of linking process goals to short-and long-term outcome goals in a hierarchical system is that it enables individuals to practice effectively by themselves for long periods of time (Locke &c Latham, 1990; Bandura, 1991). The forethought processes of highly self-regulated learners depend on their advantageous self-motivational beliefs, namely, high perceptions of self-efficacy, outcome expectations, intrinsic interest, and learning goal orientation. As we noted, "self-efficacy" refers to personal beliefs about having the means to learn or perform effectively, and as we have already discussed, these beliefs are linked to students' motivation to initiate and sustain self-regulatory efforts (Bandura, 1997, Pajares, 1996). Don Murray (1990, p. 5) described the power of self-efficacy beliefs as follows: "Yet we also write best—just as we play tennis best—if we feel confident. We have to learn to write with confidence." A closely related source of motivation, "outcome expectation," refers to beliefs about the ultimate ends of performance {Bandura, 1997; Lens, Simons, Sc Dewitte, 2002). For 516 VI. SELF-REGULATORY PROCESSES example, self-efficacy refers to the belief that one can solve story problems on a math test or make a parallel turn on skis, whereas outcomes refer to expectations about the consequences these solutions will produce with their peers, such as receiving social acclaim. A "learning goal orientation" (Ames, 1992; Dweck, 1988; Harackiewicz, Barron, Pintrich, Elliot, & Thrash, 2002; Nicholls, 1984) refers to learners' intention to develop their competence rather than to achieve competitive success. This goal orientation was ex-pressed by the tennis star, Monica Seles: "I really never enjoyed playing matches, even as a youngster. I just love to practice and drill and that stuff. I just hate the whole thought that one [player] is better than the other. It drives me nuts" (Vecsey, 1999, p. Dl). Her statement reveals that the process of learning has supplanted achievement outcomes as a source of motivation. "Intrinsic interest" refers to valuing a task for its inherent rather than its instrumental qualities in gaining other outcomes (Deci, 1975; Lepper & Hodell, 1989). The American actress Geena Davis took up archery just 3 years ago, but she has developed a high skill level by using powerful self-regulation techniques. She described how much she enjoys her solitary learning experiences and has described the feelings of intrinsic interest from practicing in the following way: "I guess I just got hooked. It is really fun to try to see how good you can get, and I don't know how good that is. I haven't maxed out. I haven't peaked. I'm trying to get better" (Litsky, 1999, p. D4). By contrast, poorly self-regulated learners perceive little efficacy, have low academic outcome expectations, are performance-oriented, and have little intrinsic interest in academic learning tasks. Performance Phase These phase processes have been grouped into two major classes: strategy use and self-observation. We have already discussed highly self-regulated learners' extensive use of strategic processes, such as self-instruction, imagery, and environmental structuring, whereas poorly self-regulated learners are not strategic in their approach to learning. Attention-focusing strategies are designed to improve one's concentration and screen out distracting events (Corno, 1993). Kuhl (1985) studied volitional methods of control, such as avoiding ruminating about past mistakes, and found them to be effective. The second major class of performance phase processes is "self-observation," which refers to metacognitive monitoring or physical record keeping of specific aspects of one's performance, the conditions that surround it, and the effects that it produces (Zimmerman & Paulsen, 1995). Because poorly self-regulated learners fail to set selective goals, they are often overwhelmed metacognitively by the amount of information that must be self-monitored, and they cannot adjust their strategies optimally. The legendary golfer Bobby Jones (Jones, 1966) put it this way: "But no human is able to think and at the same time execute the entire sequence of correct movements. The player must seek for a conception, or fix upon one or two movements, concentration on which will enable him to hit the ball" (p. 211). "Self-recording" of problem solution efforts can greatly increase the proximity, informa-tiveness, accuracy, and valence of feedback (Zimmerman & Kitsantas, 1996), and there is evidence that highly self-regulated learners engage in more record keeping than do poorly self-regulated learners (Zimmerman fic Martinez-Pons, 1986; 1988). Often professional writers record notes to guide their efforts to compose: "Process notes help me understand what I do when the writing goes well so I can look back and repeat it when the writing doesn't go well" (Murray, 1990, p. 21). Self-Reflection Phase Two major classes of self-reflection are self-judgments and self-reactions. "Self-judgments" involve self-evaluating one's learning performance and attributing causal significance to the outcomes. We have already discussed "self-evaluation" in terms of comparing self-monitored outcomes with a standard or goal. Highly regulated students self-evaluate more appropriately and more frequently than do poorly regulated students (Lan, 1998). Or, as one poorly regulated student put it, "I don't need no bad news!" Self-evaluative judgments are linked closely to causal attributions about the results of learning efforts, such as whether a failure is 27. Self-Regulated Learning 517 due to one's limited ability or to insufficient effort. Poorly regulated learners attribute their errors to uncontrollable variables such as fixed ability, whereas highly regulated ones attribute errors to controllable variables such as solution strategies. Attributions to uncontrollable variables discourage poorly regulated individuals from further learning efforts (Weiner, 1979), whereas attributions of errors to controllable variables sustain further efforts to learn (e.g., Zimmerman & Kitsantas, 1996, 1997). Similarly, elite golfers tend to disregard the possibility that factors outside their control play an important role (Kirschenbaum, O'Connor, & Owens, 1999) and instead attribute their performance to poor concentration, tenseness, and poor imagination and feel (McCaffrey & Orhck, 1989). Two key forms of self-reactions to learning efforts have been studied to date: self-satisfaction and adaptive inferences. "Self-satisfaction" refers to perceptions of satisfaction or dissatisfaction and associated affect regarding one's performance. People will pursue courses of action that result in satisfaction and positive affect and avoid those courses that produce dissatisfaction and negative affect, such as anxiety (Bandura, 1991). Unlike poorly regulated learners, highly self-regulated ones condition their self-satisfaction on reaching their learning goals, which helps them direct their actions and persist in their efforts much better (Schunk, 1983). Although high achievers set higher evaluative standards for their self-satisfaction (Zimmerman &c Bandura, 1994), all learners need to attain some level of personal satisfaction to sustain their motivation to continue their practice and play. The other form of self-reactions involves "adaptive or defensive inferences," which are conclusions about how one needs to alter his or her approach during subsequent efforts to learn. Highly regulated learners make adaptive inferences, such as by choosing a more effective strategy (Butler, 1998; Winne, 1997), but poorly regulated ones resort to defensive inferences, which serve primarily to protect them from future dissatisfaction and aversive affect. Among the most insidious defensive self-reactions are helplessness, procrastination, task avoidance, cognitive disengagement, and apathy (Boekaerts & Niemivirta, 2000; Garcia & Pintrich, 1994). Or as one hip inner-city student put it, "When it comes to school, I play defense!" After his bout with cancer, Lance Armstrong had to alter his bicycle training methods to minimize pedal resistance (which taxes leg strength), so he adapted by increasing pedal speed (which taxes aerobic capability). As he improved his aerobic capacity, this adaptation became a tremendous advantage over his competitors (Lehrer, 2001). Because of the cyclical nature of self-regulation, self-re actions to learning efforts influence forethought processes regarding further solution efforts. For example, positive self-satisfaction reactions of highly regulated individuals strengthen their self-efficacy beliefs about eventually learning, enhance their learning goal orientations (Schunk, 1996), and increase their intrinsic interest in a task (Zimmerman & Kitsantas, 1997). These enhanced self-motivational beliefs are the source of highly regulated learners' greater sense of personal agency about continuing their cyclical self-regulatory efforts and eventually reaching a solution. The writer Murray (1990, p. 21) put it this way: "The affective—feelings—usually control the cognitive—thinking—in my life. It is important for me to know how I feel when I write well and what causes me to feel that way." A key implication of a cyclical model is that failures to engage in proactive forms of forethought, such as setting hierarchical goals and choosing a strategy, relegate learners to reactive forms of performance and self-reflection, such as unsystematic self-evaluation, attributions to uncontrollable causes, and dissatisfied self-reactions. Although the importance of the self-regulatory processes and beliefs has been widely recognized by academic and athletic experts, as we summarized earlier, the importance of cyclical interdependence is less well understood. CYCLICAL RELATIONS AMONG SELF-REGULATORY PROCESSES AND SELF-MOTIVATIONAL BELIEFS To examine the validity of a cyclical model of self-regulation, social cognitive researchers have adopted microanalytical research designs to reveal specific links between an individual's self-beliefs and use of self-regulatory processes during efforts to learn. A 518 VI. SELF-REGULATORY PROCESSES microanalytical methodology involves asking specific questions about important self-regulatory processes, such as self-efficacy and attribution beliefs, at key points during the act of learning and performing (Kit-santas &c Zimerman, 2002). To test the descriptive accuracy of this model with high school athletes, Cleary and Zimmerman (2001) studied differences between expert and novice male basketball free-throw shooters in forethought and self-reflection phase processes among high school males who were basketball experts, nonexperts, or novices during a practice episode. Experts were boys who shot a high percentage of their free throws during varsity basketball games; nonexperts shot low percentage in those games, and novices had not played basketball on organized teams during high school. During individual practice sessions in a gymnasium, these adolescent boys were questioned regarding their forethought phase goals, strategy choices, self-efficacy beliefs, and intrinsic interest, as well as their self-reflection phase attributions and feelings of satisfaction as they practiced their free-throw shooting. The experts and nonexperts were similar in age, practice time, playing experience, and basketball shooting, but there were significant differences in the use of goals and strategies among the three groups. Regarding forethought measures, experts adopted more specific process goals (i.e., focusing on shooting form) and selected more technique-oriented strategies (i.e., keeping one's elbow straight on the follow-through) than nonexperts or novices. Experts also reported higher self-efficacy perceptions and intrinsic interest in basketball shooting than novices. During the self-reflection phase, experts attributed their failures to strategy use and adjusted their strategies appropriately. By contrast, the nonexpert group members attributed their failure to successfully shoot a basket to general focus strategies, such as not being able to concentrate, and as a result, they made less effective strategy adjustments. Finally, it was found that although nonexperts' general knowledge of the skill was comparable to that of experts, the former did not utilize it in a s elf-regulated manner. In another study examining differences in self-regulatory processes among experts, nonexperts, and novice female collegiate volleyball players, Kitsantas and Zimmerman (2002) found similar results. Experts were selected from the university's varsity volleyball team. The participants in the nonexpert group, selected from the university's volleyball club, had been on the club team for at least 3 years, and the novices were individuals who had not participated in volleyball as an organized sport but had played it informally. The volleyball players were studied individually while serving overhand during a practice episode. The overhand serve was selected because it is a difficult skill to master even for varsity volleyball players; thus, it represents a challenge for all expertise groups. Because the goal of the study was to discover differences in practice methods rather than in effects of differential knowledge of the overhand serve among the three expertise groups, all participants were given a modeled demonstration of this serve. A scoring procedure was created, wherein the opponents' court was divided into six designated target areas, with each area assigned a predetermined number of points written on the volleyball court. It was shown that experts displayed better goals, planning, strategy use, self-monitoring, self-evaluation, attributions, and adaptation than either nonexperts or novices. Experts also displayed higher self-efficacy beliefs, perceived instrumentality, intrinsic interest, and self-satisfaction in volleyball serving than either nonexperts or novices. Interestingly, 94% of the accuracy in the girls' volleyball serving skill was explained by these self-regulation measures. The additive effects of cyclical self-regulatory training in forethought, performance, and self-reflection phase processes during basketball free-throw shooting were studied with college students (Cleary, Zimmerman, & Keating, 2005). Participants were given three-phase training that involved forethought phase goal setting, performance phase self-recording, and self-reflection phase attributions and strategic adjustment processes. The two-phase group received identical training, with the omission of self-reflection processes (i.e., attributions, strategic adjustments), while the one-phase group received training only in goal setting. The results showed a positive linear trend between the number of self-regulatory phases in 27- Self-Regulated Learning 519 which the participants were trained and their free-throw shooting skill and shooting adaptation. The two- and three-phase training groups displayed significantly more accurate free throws and were able to self-correct following missed shots more frequently than the other groups. It should also be noted that the participants who received three-phase training displayed the most adaptive motivational profile, characterized by making strategic attributions and strategic adjustments, and using self-process criteria during self-evaluations. In the academic realm, there is evidence that instructing students to self-monitor their learning more effectively can increase their other self-regulatory processes and beliefs, as well as their achievement. Lan (1996, 1998) used a written variant of the SRLIS as an outcome measure in a self-monitoring training study designed to improve college graduate students' self-regulation and achievement in a statistics course. Students were given a list of 75 statistical concepts that were goals of the course, along with a protocol for self-monitoring their study of each concept, as well as their self-efficacy about knowing it. This self-monitoring group was compared with an instructor-monitoring intervention, in which the students kept track of the teachers' coverage of the concepts, or with a no-treatment control group. Students who self-monitored displayed significantly higher final course grades than students in the instructor-monitoring group and marginally significantly higher grades than students in the no-treatment control group. Compared to students in the other two experimental conditions, students in the self-monitoring group reported using self-evaluation and the planning, and use of the following self-regulatory strategies: environmental structuring, rehearsal and memorization, reviewing the textbook in preparation for a test, and reviewing previous tests in preparation for a test. The instructor-monitoring group reported seeking assistance from peers significantly more often than the self-monitoring group. Lan also discovered that students' use of self-evaluation, and the planning and use of five task strategies, were significantly correlated with their final course grades. These task strategies included seeking information, rehearsal and memori- zation, seeking peers' assistance, reviewing the textbook, and reviewing previous tests in preparation for a test. Clearly, training in self-monitoring led students to increase their use of a range of self-regulatory strategies. The cyclical power of this self-monitoring intervention was particularly evident in one student's informal self-reflections: "It helped me to manage my studying time, and it helped me to determine when I felt comfortable with the material because I could rate my understanding while studying" (Lan, 1998, p. 99). These studies revealed significant differences in the quality of self-regulation during personally directed learning efforts by high school and collegiate athletes of varying levels of expertise. Athletic experts were more focused in their goals, strategies, and attributions than nonexperts or. novices, and they were more self-efficacious about their performance. Students who were trained in successive self-regulatory phase processes displayed not only higher levels of athletic and academic functioning but also superior motivational profiles. These studies indicate that self-regulatory training has important benefits. We now turn to the questions of how such training should be organized to be optimally effective. ACQUIRING SELF-REGULATORY COMPETENCE AND MOTIVATION VIA SOCIAL COGNITIVE TRAINING A social cognitive perspective (Schunk & Zimmerman, 1997; Zimmerman, 2000) envisions optimal self-regulatory training as initially social in form but becoming increasingly self-directed. What changes during the process of acquisition is a person's capability to self-regulate both internal processes and external forces proactively in specific areas of academic and athletic functioning, such as math or basketball playing. Four signposts have been discerned on a social cognitive path to self-regulatory skill. When acquiring an academic or athletic skill at an observational level, learners must carefully watch a social model learn or perform (Rosenthal & Zimmerman, 1978; Zimmerman & Rosenthal, 1974). This first signpost involves discrimination of the correct form of the skill from a model's performance and 520 VI SELF-REGULATORY PROCESSES descriptions, such as when a novice athlete can discern a difference between the golf swing of a professional and that of an amateur. Complete induction of a skill seldom emerges from a single exposure to a model's performance but usually requires repeated observation, especially across variations in task (Rosenthal &C Zimmerman, 1976), such as seeing variations in golf swing based on the position of the ball and the club selected. A novice's motivation to learn at an observational level can be greatly enhanced by positive vicarious consequences to the model, such as an audience's applause for a golfer's fine play. Perceptions of personal similarity to a model increase the impact of consequences to that model vicariously on one's motivation (Brown & Inouye, 1978). In addition to conveying cognitive or motoric skill, expert models display implicit self-regulatory processes, such as adherence to performance standards, and motivational orientations and values (Schunk et al., 1987). For example, athletic models who self-correct their technique help observers to discriminate and rectify common errors. Such models also convey the high value placed on accurate speech and the need to persist in order to improve one's performance. "When acquiring a skill at an emulation level, the second signpost, a learner must duplicate the general form of a model's response on a correspondent task. Learners seldom copy the exact actions of the model; rather, they typically emulate the model's general pattern or style of functioning. Although learners can induce the major features of a complex skill from observation, they need performance experiences in order for the skill to become a behavioral reality. It is one thing to recognize the golf swing of a particular professional, but quite another thing to reproduce that swing oneself. Learners who emulate using a model's task can master basic response elements before contending with new task variations, which enhances their chances of a successful performance. Emulation can be improved through individualized modeling and social support. For example, during participant modeling (Bandura, 1986), a model repeats selected aspects of a skill based on a learner's emulative accuracy. As the learner acquires rudimentary aspects of a skill, the model will introduce more difficult compo- nents. However, once an advanced level of mastery is attained, the model's support will be reduced. Although some critics have criticized modeling as a form of instruction, because of fears that it fosters response mimicry during emulation, these fears are largely unjustified because mimicry represents only a small part of emulative learning (Zimmerman &C Rosenthal, 1974). Instead of duplicating a model's exact responses, observers primarily emulate the strategic features and blend them into their own repertoire of responses (Rosenthal, Zimmerman, &c Durning, 1970). When attaining a self-controlled level of self-regulatory skill, the third signpost, learners must practice it in structured settings outside the presence of models. To optimize learning at this level, learners should regulate their practice using representational standards (e.g., verbal recollections) of an expert model's pronunciation rather than direct observation of that model (Bandura & jeffery, 1973). For example, students might rewrite a vague essay provided by their teacher using a model's strategy of inserting concrete examples for all abstract nouns. Learners' success in matching a covert standard during practice will determine the amount of self-reinforcement they will experience. Self-instruction, such as self-praise or self-critical statements, can help students encode and retrieve the strategy sequences during self-controlled learning (Meichenbaum &c Beimiller, 1990), such as when the students reread their examples to judge their effectiveness. During third level practice sessions, learners who focus on fundamental processes or technique rather than on task outcomes are more successful in achieving automaticity (Zimmerman &c Kitsantas, 1997, 1999), which is defined as the mastery of a model's technique. This automaticity is the most salient behavioral manifestation of the attainment of the third level of regulatory control. By focusing their practice goals on the strategic processes of proven models initially, novice learners can circumvent the frustrations of trial-and-error learning and can instead reinforce themselves for increasing motoric correspondence to this behavioral standard. By contrast, novices who focus on outcomes (e.g., the vagueness of an essay) before mastering fundamental techniques (e.g., the literary components of a 27. Self-Regulated Learning 521 compelling example) are expected to impair learning, because novices make ineffective process adjustments until they acquire self-evaluative expertise (Ellis & Zimmerman, 2001). Although regulation of a skill becomes covert at this level, it remains dependent on a representation of an external model's standard. When acquiring a self-regulated level of task skill, the fourth signpost, learners should practice it in unstructured settings involving dynamic personal and contextual conditions. At this fourth level of skill, learners learn to make adjustments in their skill based on the outcomes of practice, such as whether an exemplification writing strategy reduces the vagueness of an essay. These mindful adaptations are made on the basis of self-monitored outcomes, such as the reaction of a reader, rather than on prior modeling experiences (Graham, Harris, & Troia, 1998). Learners' perceived efficacy in making these strategic adjustments influences their motivation to continue. At the fourth level, learners can practice with minimal process monitoring, and their attention can be shifted toward performance outcomes, without detrimental consequences, because the skill has become automatized at the prior level of self-regulation (LaBerge, 1981; Neves & Anderson, 1981). A self-regulated level of skill is acquired when learners can adapt their performance to changing personal conditions and outcomes. For learners to adapt their performance, they must discriminate key features of the transfer context, choose how to adapt their skill to that context, and monitor and evaluate the results. A behavioral manifestation of fourth level functioning is learners' development of their own distinctive styles of performing. Although social support is systematically reduced as learners acquire a self-regulatory level of skill, they continue to depend on social resources on a self-initiated basis, such as when they seek help from a coach (Murray, 1990). Because self-regulatory skill depends on context and outcomes, new performance tasks can uncover limitations in existing skills and require additional social learning experiences. This multilevel formulation of self-regulation does not assume that learners must advance through the four levels in an invariant sequence, as developmental stage models as- sume, or that the fourth level is used universally once it is attained. Instead, a multilevel model assumes that individuals who master each skill level in sequence will learn more easily and effectively. We next turn to the issue of effectiveness of this formulation in both academic and athletic functioning. EVIDENCE OF LEVELS IN ACQUISITION OF ACADEMIC AND ATHLETIC SKILL To test the sequential validity of the first and second levels in the hierarchy, we compared the two primary sources of regulation for each level: modeling for the observation level, and performance and social feedback for the emulation level. In a study of writing revision (Zimmerman &c Kitsantas, 2002), college students were asked to revise a series of sentences from commercially available sentence-combining workbooks. These exercises involved transforming a series of simple and often redundant sentences into a single, nonredundant sentence. For example, the sentences "It was a ball. The ball was striped. The ball rolled across the room" could be rewritten as "The striped ball rolled across the room." The mastery model performed flawlessly from the outset of the training, whereas the coping model initially made errors but gradually corrected them. Coping models are viewed as a qualitatively superior form of observational learning, because they convey self-regulatory actions, such as self-monitoring and self-correction, as well as writing revision skill. By contrast, mastery models portray primarily writing revision skill. Both modeling groups learned initially by observing an adult demonstrate a multistep-process writing revision strategy, whereas the no-modeling group learned only by hearing the multistep process described. Some members of each of the three experimental groups were given social feedback Students in the two modeling groups that had the benefit of some form of observational learning significantly surpassed the revision skill of those who attempted to learn from only verbal description and performance outcomes. Students who observed the higher quality coping model outperformed students who observed the lower quality mastery model. In support of the theory, this 522 VI. SELF-REGULATORY PROCESSES writing study demonstrated that self-regulatory skills, such as self-monitoring and self-correcting actions of the coping model, were learned vicariously. As was hypothesized regarding enactive learning, social feedback improved writing skill for both forms of modeling. Once again, social feedback was insufficient for students in the no-modeling group to make up for their absence of vicarious experience. Finally, students exposed to both forms of modeling displayed higher levels of sei f-motivation, such as self-efficacy beliefs, than did students who relied on discovery and social feedback. These academic writing results confirmed the sequential advantages of engaging in observational learning before attempting enactive learning experiences. In a similar study of athletic functioning of high school girls, Kitsantas, Zimmerman, and Cleary (2000) studied a high-quality coping modeling group, a lower quality mastery modeling group, and a no-modeling (enactive learning) group. The girls were taught a three-step strategy for throwing darts using coping or mastery models, or by verbal description and direct practice. Social feedback was given to some students in each experimental group. The results were supportive of a multilevel view of self-regulatory development. Adolescent girls in the two modeling groups significantly surpassed the dart-throwing skill of those who attempted to learn from only verbal description and performance outcomes. The coping model was significantly more effective than the mastery model, which indicates that the quality of the girls' observational learning experience influenced their development of athletic skill. During emulation, girls who received social feedback learned better than those who practiced on their own. However, the impact of this social feedback was insufficient in the no-modeling group to make up for the absence of vicarious experience. These results support the sequential advantage of engaging in observational learning before engaging in enactive learning experiences. Finally, girls exposed to observational learning from either form of modeling also showed higher levels of self-motivation, such as self-efficacy beliefs, than did students in the control group. To test the sequentiality of the third and fourth levels of skill (i.e., self-control and self-regulation) in the multilevel hierarchy, the two primary sources of regulation for these levels (i.e., process standards and outcomes) were compared. Recall that process goals are hypothesized to be optimal during acquisition at the self-control level, but outcome goals are expected to be superior during the acquisition at the self-regulation level. Zimmerman and Kitsantas (1999) tested the sequentiality of the third and fourth levels of the multi-level model with high school girls using the same writing revision task that was described above (Zimmerman 8c" Kitsantas, 2002). These girls were initially taught the three steps of the revision strategy through observation and emulation (regulatory levels 1 and 2) that was described previously. During a practice session following training, girls in the process goal group focused on strategic steps for revising each writing task, whereas girls in the outcome goal group focused on decreasing the number of words in the revised passage. Some of the girls in each goal group were ask to self-record. The theoretically optimal group shifted from process goals to outcome goals when automaticity was achieved. Girls in the process-monitoring group recorded strategy steps they missed on each writing task, whereas girls in the outcome-monitoring group wrote down the number words used in each writing task. Girls in the shifting-goal group changed their method of self-monitoring when they shifted goals. Thus, the experiment compared the effects of process goals, outcome goals, and shifting goals, as well as self-recording during self-directed practice. The results were consistent with a multilevel hierarchical view of goal setting: Girls who shifted goals from processes to outcomes after reaching level 4 (i.e., having achieved automaticky) surpassed the writing revision skill of girls who adhered exclusively to process goals or to outcome goals. Girls who focused on outcomes exclusively displayed the least writing skill, and self-recording enhanced writing acquisition for all goal-setting groups. In addition to their superior writing skill outcomes, girls who shifted their goals displayed advantageous forms of self-motivation, such as enhanced self-efficacy beliefs. Zimmerman and Kitsantas (1997) used the same dart-throwing athletic task de- 27. Self-Regulated Learning 523 scribed earlier to examine the effectiveness of goal shifting during dart-throwing practice with high school girls. A process goal group focused on practicing the strategy steps for acquiring dart-throwing technique, whereas an outcome goal group focused on improving scores. The "bull's-eye" on the target had the highest numerical value, and the surrounding concentric circles gradually declined in value. The optimal goal-setting group from a multilevel perspective shifted from process goals to outcome goals when automaticity was achieved. Self-recording was taught to some girls in each goal group. Girls in the process-monitoring group recorded any strategy steps they may have missed on each practice throw, whereas girls in the outcome-monitoring group wrote down their target scores for each throw. Girls in the shifting-goal group changed their method of self-monitoring when they shifted goals. Before being asked to practice on their own, all of the high school girls were taught strategic components of the skill through observation and emulation (levels 1 and 2). The experiment compared the effects of process goals, outcome goals, and shifting goals, as well as self-recording during self-controlled practice. The results were supportive of a multilevel hierarchical view of goal setting: Girls who shifted goals devel-opmentally from processes to outcomes surpassed classmates who adhered only to process goals or only outcome goals in posttest dart-throwing skill. Girls who focused on outcomes exclusively were the lowest in dart-throwing skill. Self-monitoring assisted learning for all goal-setting groups. In addition to their superior learning outcomes, students who shifted their goals displayed superior forms of self-motivation, such as self-efficacy beliefs. CONCLUSIONS Research on academic and athletic self-regulation reveals that an individual's development of optimal competence requires more than basic talent and high-quality instruction; it involves self-regulatory skill and accompanying self-motivational beliefs. This self-regulatory dimension of human competence, although often subtle, is pervasive in personal accounts of successful students, ex- pert writers, and professional athletes. Donald Murray (1990) cautions novice writers about the hidden role of self-regulatory competence in successful writing: "Good writing does not reveal its making" (p. 5). "Getting writing done day in and day out, despite interruptions ... is what separates the writer from the hope-to-be writer" (p. 15). In addition to anecdotal evidence from experts regarding the importance of key self-regulatory processes, there is extensive empirical evidence that learners' use of self-regulatory processes is highly predictive of their academic as well as athletic success. Furthermore, people's self-efficacy beliefs about their self-regulatory competence proved to be predictive of not only their use of self-regulatory processes but also their learning and performance outcomes. The interrelation of various self-regulatory processes and self-motivational beliefs is explained in terms of three cyclical phases: forethought, performance, and self-reflection. Proactive learners, who engage in effective forethought, perform more effectively and experience more favorable self-reflections than reactive learners. Students' development of self-regulatory competence has been studied from a multilevel social cognitive perspective, and there is strong evidence that people who learn vicariously from self-regulatory models and adapt the model's techniques to their own personal functioning are more successful and better motivated than individuals who rely on asocial self-discovery. We believe this is vital information for the development of intervention programs designed to assist poorly motivated learners who are at academic and athletic risk. ACKNOWLEDGMENT We would like to thank Andrew J. Elliot and Carol S. 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J., & Paulsen, A. S. (1995). Self-monitoring during collegiate studying: An invaluable tool for academic self-regulation. In P. Pintrich (Ed.), New directions in college teaching and learning: Understanding self-regulated learning (No. 63, pp. 13-27). San Francisco: Jossey-Bass. Zimmerman, B. J., & Rosenthal, T. L. (1974). Observational learning of rule governed behavior by children. Psychological Bulletin, 81, 29-42. COPING AND DISENGAGEMENT CHAPTER 28 Engagement, Disengagement, Coping, and Catastrophe CHARLES S. CARVER MICHAEL E SCHEIER In 1992 Tom Pyszczynski and Jeff Greenberg published a book called Hanging On and Letting Go. That book was about processes behind depression. However, its title pointed to a fundamental and crucial division within human experience, with implications far broader than depression. On the one side of the division is a continuing engagement in the struggle to attain something desired, even when its attainment appears unlikely. It is easy to see this side as representing the exercise of motivation, a struggle for mastery in the short run, and for ever-greater competence in the long run. On the other side of the divide is giving up, ceasing the struggle, and releasing one's commitment to reaching the desired end. Motivation, commitment, and the struggle for increased competence are a very important part of life. Little that is noteworthy has ever been accomplished without persistence in the face of setbacks, obstacles, and difficulties. Western society justifiably places great stock in hard work and the belief that diligence (along with ingenuity) can overcome whatever obstacles arise. Yet holding on, continuing to try, is not all of life. Letting go is also important (Carver & Scheier, 2003; Wrosch, Scheier, Carver, & Schulz, 2003). People all need to give up sometimes. A key decision in life, which is made over and over in a wide variety of contexts, is when to hang on and when to let go. That decision is made with regard to very broad and important areas of life (e.g., whether to give up an unreachable career aspiration or a failed relationship), and it is also made on a much smaller scale (e.g., whether to keep trying for an A in a course, or whether to keep trying to solve a particular word puzzle). The ability to make these decisions wisely and well represents another sort of competence. The divergence between these two orientations to a goal—engagement in its pursuit versus disengagement and abandonment of it—is the subject of this chapter. Our view is that these are both necessary parts of life, 527 528 VI. SELF-REGULATORY PROCESSES and that the forces inducing one or the other of these orientations are natural aspects of self-regulation. We begin with a brief overview of a broader conceptual framework within which we then address this distinction. CONCEPTUAL OVERVIEW We believe that intentional behavior is the attempt to make something occur in action that is already held in mind (Carver & Scheier, 1981, 1998). This view of behavior provides the basis for our use of the term "self-regulation." When we use this term, we intend to convey several things. One is that people's actions are purposive (even if the purpose is sometimes hard to identify by observers, or even by the actors themselves). Another is that self-corrective adjustments of the action occur as needed, to keep the action on track for the purpose being served. Yet another is that the corrective adjustments originate within the person. These ideas converge in the view that behavior is a continual process of moving toward (and sometimes away from) goal values, and that this movement embodies the characteristics of feedback control. Goals and Feedback Loops This view converges in many respects with the interest in goal constructs in today's personality and social psychology (Austin Ôc Vancouver, 1996; Elliott & Dweck, 1988; Emmons, 1986; Higgins, 1987, 1996; Markus & Nurius, 1986; Read & Miller, 1989; Pervin, 1982, 1989). Different theorists have their own distinct points of emphasis (for broader discussions, see Austin &c Vancouver, 1996; Carver & Scheier, 1998, 1999a; Pervin, 1989), but they also have many similarities. All convey the sense that goals give direction to behavior, thus making the goal a key motivational concept. Indeed, in this view, the self is partly made up of the person's goals and the organization among them (cf. Mischei & Shoda, 1995). How goals are used to produce behavior can be described in many ways. As indicated earlier, we think of the process in terms of feedback loops (Figure 28.1). A feedback loop (Miller, Galanter, & Pribram, 1960; MacKay, 1966; Powers, 1973; Wiener, Goal, Standard, Reference value Input function Output function Effect on environment Disturbance FIGURE 28.1. Schematic depiction of a feedback loop, the basic unit of cybernetic control. In a discrepancy-reducing loop, a sensed value is compared to a reference value or standard, and adjustments occur in an output function (if necessary) that shift the sensed value in the direction of the standard. In a discrepancy-enlarging loop, the output function moves the sensed value away from the standard. 28. Engagement and Disengagement 529 1948) is an organization of four elements: an input function, a reference value, a comparator, and an output function. An input function (which we treat as equivalent to perception) brings information about an existing state into the system. A reference value is a second source of information, coming from within the system. We treat goals as a particular kind of reference value. A comparator, the next element, is something that compares the input to the reference value. This yields one of two outcomes. Either the values being compared are dis-criminably different or they're not. (Either you're doing what you intended to do, or you're not.) The degree of discrepancy detected is sometimes referred to as an "error signal," with more error implying greater discrepancy. (The idea that error detection is fundamental to living systems is echoed in evidence that negative events [which imply discrepancies] draw attention; see Baumeister, Bratslavsky, Finkenauer, &c Vohs, 2001.) After the comparison comes an output function, which we treat as equivalent to behavior (though sometimes the behavior is internal). If the comparison yields "no difference," the output function remains as it was. If the comparison yields a judgment of "discrepancy," the output function changes. Change in the output changes the existing situation in some way. This in turn changes the input. The loop of information thus is closed, and the cycle continues. There are two kinds of feedback loops, which differ in their overall function. In a discrepancy-reducing loop, the output function acts to reduce or eliminate any discrepancy noted between input and reference value. It keeps the error signal as low as possible. Such an effect is seen in human behavior in the attempt to attain a valued goal, or to conform to a standard. In a discrepancy-enlarging loop, the reference value is a value to avoid. It may be convenient to think of it as an "anti-goal." A discrepancy-enlarging loop senses existing conditions, compares them to the anti-goal, and acts to enlarge the discrepancy. Psychological examples of anti-goals are a feared or disliked possible self (Carver, Lawrence, & Scheier, 1999; Markus & Nurius, 1986; Ogilvie, 1987), interpersonal rejection, and a spoiled public image. Each of these is a condition to be avoided. Enlarging a discrepancy thus is an avoidance process. The action of discrepancy-enlarging processes in living systems is typically constrained by discrepancy-reducing processes. To put it differently, acts of avoidance often lead into compatible acts of approach (Figure 28.2). An avoidance loop tries to increase distance from an anti-goal. But there often is an approach goal (or even more than one) in nearby psychological space. If one is noticed and adopted, the tendency to escape from the anti-goal is joined by a tendency to move toward the goal. The approach loop pulls subsequent behavior into its orbit. These two kinds of feedback processes have been found in many kinds of physical systems, ranging from physiological to social, ethological, and economic. The broad existence of such forces in multiple, diverse kinds of systems is one reason we have been drawn to the idea that the feedback concept has utility in thinking about behavior. For our present purposes, though, the main points are fairly simple. Discrepancy reduction is an approach process. Discrepancy enlargement is an avoidance process. The idea that behavior is organized around approaching and avoiding is by no means novel. Approach and avoidance processes have been postulated on a variety of theoretical grounds over many years (cf. Miller, 1944; Miller & Dollard, 1941). These functions have recently come to the fore yet again, in a family of theories rooted in neuropsychology and conditioning. A system managing incentive motivation and approach has been postulated by a number of biologically oriented theorists, variously called the "Behavioral Activation System" (Cloninger, 1987; Fowles, 1980), the "Behavioral Approach System" (Gray, 1981, 1987, 1994), and the "Behavioral Facilitation System" (Depue & Collins, 1999). A system managing aversive motivation and withdrawal from or avoidance of aversive stimuli has been called the "Behavioral Inhibition System" (Cloninger, 1987; Gray, 1981, 1987, 1994), and "Withdrawal System" (Davidson, 1984, 1992a, 1992b, 1995). These theories stand at a different level of abstraction than the ideas that were discussed just previously. These theories deal 530 VI. SELF-REGULATORY PROCESSES Reducing loop (approach) Enlarging loop (avoidance) FIGURE 28.2. The effects of discrepancy-enlarging feedback systems are often bounded or constrained by discrepancy-reducing systems. A value moves away from an undesired condition in a deviation-amplifying loop, and then comes under the influence of a discrepancy-reducing loop, moving toward its desired value. Adapted from Carver and Scheier (1998). Copyright 1998 by Cambridge University Press. Adapted by permission. with neurobiological structures and how those structures may be involved in behavior. However, the two sets of ideas seem very compatible. The feedback loop is a more abstract construct. It might be viewed as being, in effect, a metatheory that is applicable to both neurobiology and other domains in which feedback influences occur. Another comparison is also instructive. Most of the chapters in this volume are organized around the idea that people are motivated by the desire for increased competence. The authors of those chapters move from that starting assumption to consider some of the issues that follow from it. We, in contrast, are describing here a way of viewing the self-regulation of behavior in general. Some behaviors surely represent efforts to extend competence, but not all do, except in a limited sense. That is, we assume that the human organism continuously strives to make better predictions of events in the world (Carver & Scheier, 1999b). We assume that this is an operating characteristic of the organism, an aspect of the workings of our cognitive machinery. We believe (consistent with Piaget, 1963) that these tendencies result in greater elaboration, organization (integration of simple processes into a more complex whole), and adaptation. Do they therefore represent a striving for competence? Perhaps, but it is often an implicit rather than an explicit striving. Affect Overt behavior is important, but not all-important. Also important in human experience is affect. Just as behavior displays fundamental regularities, so does affect, or emotion. Affects serve as self-regulatory controls on what actions take place and with how much urgency (Carver & Scheier, 1990, 1998). Affect sometimes keeps people immersed in the actions they are now engaged in. Affect sometimes leads people to cease their actions. What is affect, and where does it come from? It is widely held that affect pertains to one's desires and whether they are being met (e.g., Clore, 1994; Fnjda, 1986, 1988; Ortony, Clore, & Collins, 1988). But what exactly is the internal process by which feelings arise? Answers to that question can also take any of several forms, ranging from neurobiological (e.g., Davidson 1984, 1992b, 1995) to cognitive (Ortony et al., 1988). We have suggested an answer (Carver & Scheier, 28. Engagement and Disengagement 531 1990, 1.998, 1999a, 1999b) that focuses on some of the functional properties of affect. Again we use feedback control as an organizing principle. But now the feedback control bears on a different quality than it did earlier. We have suggested that feelings arise as a consequence of a feedback process that operates automatically, simultaneously with the behavior-guiding process, and in parallel to it. Perhaps the easiest way to convey what this second process is doing is to say that it's checking on how well the first process (the behavior loop) is doing its job. The input for this second loop thus is some representation of the rate of discrepancy reduction in the action system over time (we limit ourselves at first to discrepancy-reducing action loops). Input by itself does not create affect (a given rate of progress has different affective effects in different circumstances). We believe that, as in any feedback system, this input is compared to a reference value (cf. Frijda, 1986, 1988). In this case, the reference is an acceptable or desired rate of behavioral discrepancy reduction. As in other feedback loops, the comparison checks for deviation from the standard. If there is a discrepancy, the output function changes. We believe that the error signal in this loop is manifest phenomenologically as affect, a sense of positive or negative valence regarding the action taking place. If the rate of progress is below the criterion, negative affect arises. If the rate is high enough to exceed the criterion, positive affect arises. If the rate is not distinguishable from the criterion, no affect arises. In essence, the argument is that positive feelings mean you are doing better at something than you intend to, and negative feelings mean you are doing worse than you intend to (for more detail, including a review of evidence on the link between this "velocity" function and affect, see Carver & Scheier, 1998, Chapters 8 and 9). One direct implication of this line of thought is that the affects that might potentially arise regarding any given action domain should fall along a bipolar dimension. That is, for a given action, affect can be positive, neutral, or negative, depending on how well or poorly the action is going. Now consider discrepancy-enlarging action loops. The view just outlined rests on the idea that positive feelings occur when a behavioral system is making rapid progress in doing what it is organized to do. The systems considered thus far are organized to reduce discrepancies. There is no obvious reason, though, why the principle should not also apply to systems organized to enlarge discrepancies. If that kind of a system is doing well at what it is organized to do, there should be positive affect. If it is doing poorly, there should be negative affect. The idea that affects of both valences can occur would seem applicable to both approach and avoidance systems. That is, both approach and avoidance have the potential to induce positive feelings (by doing well), and both have the potential to induce negative feelings (by doing poorly). But doing well at moving toward an incentive is not quite the same as doing well at moving away from a threat. Thus, the two positives may not be quite the same, nor the two negatives. This line of thought, along with insights from Higgins (e.g., 1987, 1996) and his collaborators, has led us to argue for the existence of two bipolar affect dimensions (Carver, 2001; Carver & Scheier, 1998). One dimension relates to the system that manages the approach of incentives, the other to the system that manages the avoidance of, or withdrawal from, threat. The dimension pertaining to approach (in its "purest" form) includes affects such as elation, eagerness, and excitement on the positive side and frustration, sadness, and dejection on the negative side. The dimension related to avoidance (in its "purest" form) includes affects such as fear and anxiety on the negative side and relief, serenity, and contentment on the positive side. The view we have taken implies a natural link between affect and action. If the input function of the affect loop is a sensed rate of progress in action, the output function must be a change in the rate of that action. Thus, the affect loop intrinsically has a direct influence on what occurs in the action loop. The latter controls what might be thought of as the person's "position," whereas the former controls what might be thought of as the person's "velocity." Action-managing loops handle the directional function of motivation (choosing specific actions from among 532 VI. SELF-REGULATORY PROCESSES many options, keeping the action on track). Affect-related loops handle the intensity function of motivation (the vigor, enthusiasm, effort, concentration, or thoroughness with which the action is pursued). Two Aspects of Approach-Related Negative Affect We said a little earlier that affect sometimes keeps people immersed in the actions they are now engaged in, and that affect sometimes leads people to cease their actions. What did we mean by that? In answering this question, we focus on negative affects (for discussion of positive affects see Carver, 2003). Furthermore, for the sake of clarity, we restrict ourselves here to negative affects that are tied to goal-seeking efforts—approach processes (a parallel line of argument applies to avoidance processes, but we do not talk about avoidance here). Our argument is that falling behind in a goal-seeking effort creates negative affect. More specifically, this experience gives rise to feelings such as frustration, irritation, and even anger (Carver, 2004). The lagging of progress, or the affect thereby created, prompts an increase in exertion, an effort to catch up. Thus, these negative feelings (or the mechanism that underlies them) keep the person immersed in the ongoing action and engage the person's effort more fully (for findings that fit this view, see Harmon-Jones, Sigelman, Bohling, Si Harmon-Jones, 2003; Lewis, Sullivan, Ramsay, &C Allessandri, 1992; Mikulincer, 1988). Such effort often allows the person to increase movement toward the goal and make attaining the goal seem likely again. Consistent with this view, Frijda (1986, p. 429) has argued that anger as an emotion implies a hope that things can be set right (see also Harmon-Jones & Allen, 1998). Sometimes, however, continued efforts do not have the desired effect. Indeed, if the situation involves loss, movement forward is precluded. When there is a loss, the goal is gone. These cases are more extreme than those described in the preceding paragraph. When failure seems assured or a loss has occurred, the negative affect has a different tone than in the case described in the preceding paragraph. Here, the feelings are sadness, depression, dejection, and grief (in- deed, Finlay-Jones ÔC Brown, 1981, and others have linked loss to clinical depression). Accompanying behaviors also differ. Rather than continue to struggle, the person tends to disengage from further effort toward the goal (KHnger, 1975; Wortman & Brehm, 1975; for supporting evidence, see Lewis et al., 1992; Mikulincer, 1988). At least two studies have found patterns of affective responses that are consistent with this portrayal (Mikulincer, 1994; Pittman & Pittman, 1980). In these studies, participants had varying amounts of failure, and their emotional responses were assessed. In both studies, reports of anger were most intense after small amounts of failure and lower after larger amounts of failure. Reports of depression were low after small amounts of failure and intense after larger amounts of failure. Thus, these two kinds of situations create two different kinds of negative feelings, which relate to opposite shifts in behavior. Although the behavioral shifts are opposite to each other, we believe they both have adaptive properties. In the first case (when the person falls behind but the goal is not seen as lost), feelings of frustration and anger yield an increase in effort, a struggle to gain the goal despite the setbacks. This struggle is adaptive (and the affect is adaptive) because that struggle can foster goal attainment. In the second, more extreme situation, when effort is futile, feelings of sadness and grief yield reduction of effort. Sadness and despondency imply that things cannot be set right, that further effort is pointless. Reduction of effort in this circumstance also has adaptive functions (cf. Wrosch et al., 2003). It serves to conserve energy rather than waste it in futile pursuit of the unattainable (Nesse, 2000). If it also helps diminish commitment to the goal (Klinger, 1975), it eventually readies the person to take up pursuit of another incentive in place of this one. Continued Effort and Giving Up These two functions that we believe correspond to two kinds of approach-related negative affect take us to the heart of the theme of this chapter. The first class of affect (frustration, anger) is a precursor to (or a concomitant of) continued or even increased ef- 28. Engagement and Disengagement 533 fort toward goal attainment. The second class of affect (sadness, despondency) is a precursor to (or a concomitant of) giving up. Our interest in the tension between effort and giving up is reflected in this analysis of affect. It did not begin there, however. We were interested in this issue much earlier, before our analysis of affect had been developed. Some of our earliest work examined influences on people's responses to adversity when they worked on difficult laboratory tasks (Carver &: Scheier, 1981). We found that sometimes when things are going poorly people keep trying, continue to struggle. Sometimes when things are going poorly they stop trying, reduce their efforts. We have long held that this difference in behavioral response rests on a difference in confidence versus doubt about reaching the desired goal. Our view thus is one of a long tradition of expectancy-value theories (e.g., Atkinson, 1964; Bandura, 1997; Feather, 1982; Klinger, 1975; Kuhl, 1984; Kukla, 1972; Lewin, 1948; Shah & Higgins, 1997; Snyder, 1994; Vroom, 1964; Wright & Brehm, 1989). Given enough confidence, a person will continue to try, even in the face of obstacles and setbacks. Given enough doubt, the person will stop trying. It is clear that there is a link between affect and confidence—indeed, they may both reflect the same error signal. But we suspect that the link is less than perfect. Interest in how this more cognitive sense of confidence or doubt influences behavior was what first led us to think about the contrast between engagement and disengagement. We examined both naturally occurring and experimentally manipulated expectancies. For example, in one study we subjected everyone to an initial failure experience, and then let them work on another task. We led some to expect to be able to make up for that failure on a second task, and led others to expect more failure. These manipulated expectancies were reflected in participants' subsequent persistence at what actually was an impossible task. Those expecting to be able to perform well tried longer than those expecting to perform more poorly. Other studies found that expectancies influenced actual performances on tasks and the seeking out of information about the tasks (Carver & Scheier, 1981, 1998). In all cases, greater confidence related to more en- gagement, and doubt related to disengagement. Our interest in confidence and engagement versus doubt and disengagement led us into several research literatures. We have explored this issue in focused domains, such as test anxiety, where some people have more difficulty than others performing in line with their wishes (Carver & Scheier, 1981). We found, for example, that people who are high in test anxiety are prone to disengage from their task efforts into off-task thinking, and therefore perform more poorly. They are also more likely to skip from item to item, in search of easy answers, and to be correspondingly less persistent at a given item. A similar pattern linking negative expectancies to decreases in effort has recently been found in university athletes (Hatzigeor-giadis & Biddle, 2001). We have also used the same line of reasoning to explore how people respond to health threats, in their coping efforts and their psychological well-being (Carver & Scheier, 2002; Scheier &c Carver, 2003). In this work on responses to health threats, we have also explored how this line of reasoning applies in people's broad orientation to the full range of life's experiences— their generalized sense of optimism versus pessimism (Scheier & Carver, 1992). Optimism and pessimism are confidence and doubt writ large, bearing on the person's entire life space. It appears that the same behavioral tendencies—engagement versus disengagement—flow from optimism and pessimism, just as they do from more focused confidence and doubt (Scheier & Carver, 2003; Scheier, Carver, ôč Bridges, 2001). In particular, optimists appear to engage in coping responses that reflect a continued engagement with their goals, and with life more generally. A variety of research (reviewed in Scheier et al., 2001) has shown that people who are optimistic report more problem-focused coping (particularly when the situation is seen as potentially controllable), more acceptance of the reality of adverse circumstances, and more positive reframing of the situation, thereby maintaining their positive expectancies for being able to resolve the problems. In contrast, people who are more pessimistic report greater tendencies to deny the reality of the situation, 534 VI. SELF-REGULATORY PROCESSES as though they can somehow escape its existence by wishful thinking. They are more likely to do things that provide temporary distractions but don't help solve the problem. Sometimes they even report giving up trying to cope. All of these responses look very much like disengagement. Giving Up and Avoidance Effort and giving up create the potential for great complexity. However, reality is even more complex. Before continuing, we must make one more distinction to avoid confusion. Then, we place a limit on what is discussed in the rest of the chapter. The distinction is between disengagement and avoidance. Earlier in the chapter, we described avoidance as an active effort to increase the distance between oneself and an anti-goal. We want to be clear that we regard that process as different from what occurs when a failure of approach leads to giving up. Giving up is a sinking away from effort. It is not an active attempt to distance oneself from a reference value. The surface topography of the physical actions that these processes induce can (in some circumstances) be very similar. The underlying processes, however, are not the same. Thinking of approach and avoidance together gets very tricky in many areas of discussion, such as achievement. As we noted earlier (Eigure 28.2), avoidance processes sometimes lead into compatible approach processes. For example, one way to avoid failure is to approach success (Atkinson, 1957). For that reason, a person who is motivated mostly by the desire to avoid failure at an achievement task may display strong effort when engaged in that task. That behavior can look a lot like the behavior of a person who is interested only in attaining success and is totally unconcerned with avoidance. But the motivational situations for the two people are not the same. The emotions they experience are likely to differ (Higgins, Shah, & Friedman, 1997, Study 4), and some of the strategies they use may also differ (Elliot & McGregor, 2001). In truth, it is likely that most human behavior involves blends of approach and avoidance motivations. Analysis of how the two motivational bases for the same action lead to different experiences is potentially very important. However, that goal is beyond the scope of our undertaking here. For our present purposes, we disregard that complicating factor, instead, from here onward, we focus exclusively on issues arising in approach processes. Functions of Engagement and Giving Up We said earlier that persistence in approach and giving up of approach are both important. Let us return to that assertion and expand upon it. It is easy to grasp that commitment, confidence, and persistence are keys to success. Expectancy-value motive models hold that people who are confident remain committed to their valued goals, remain engaged in attempts to move forward, even when effort thus far has been futile. Discussions framed in expectancy-value terms typically emphasize this idea: that continued effort can result in attainments. That emphasis is quite reasonable, given that many of these theories have roots in analyses of achievement behavior. Much of the interest behind theories of achievement behavior is in the resulting achievement. Indeed, many who are interested in achievement behavior are interested more specifically in how achievement can be maximized. It is certainly true that a person who gives up whenever encountering difficulty will never accomplish anything. To accomplish things, people need to persist when confronting obstacles. There are also reasons, however, why disengagement is sometimes a good idea. The simplest reason, described earlier, is that a person trying unsuccessfully to reach a goal experiences distress. This is true both in small-scale goal pursuit and in life's big picture (Wrosch et al., 2003). With respect to the big picture, lifespan development theorists point out that successful development inevitably requires people to make choices about which goals to continue pursuing and which to give up (Schulz & Heckhausen, 1996). A very basic reason why some goals should be abandoned concerns the biological resources available at different phases of the lifespan (Baltes, Cornelius, & Nesselroade, 1979; Heckhausen & Schulz, 1995). During early childhood, cognitive and physical abilities are limited. As the 28. Engagement and Disengagement 535 child grows, so do the abilities. The growth plateaus; then there is a decline in old age. This cycle of growth and decline limits what goals are within reach at any given point in the life course. If the resources are lacking, the goal cannot be attained. In the same way, goal attainment is sometimes limited by genetic potential. For example, to become a professional athlete is very unlikely for someone who lacks the physical attributes required by a particular sport. More simply, some goals are out of reach no matter how hard you try. Another constraint is the limit placed by the time available in a person's life. Whatever is to be achieved or experienced in life must be done in a finite period of time. The acquisition of skills, knowledge, and expertise takes time (Ericsson & Charness, 1994). Thus, the person is constrained in the extent to which functioning can be maximized in multiple domains. To be committed to attaining excellence in many diverse life domains thus can be a set-up for distress, because there are only so many hours in a day, and so many days in a life. In both the short term and the long term, then, disengagement from certain goals plays an important function. Yet despite this, people sometimes keep struggling for things that seem unattainable. When something is important to them, people often will struggle well past the point where the goal has been lost. Why? In order to address that question properly, we need one more idea, the notion of hierarchicality. Hierarchicality Actions can take place at many different levels of abstraction (Powers, 1973; Vallacher & Wegner, 1987). You can try to be a successful person in your chosen profession, but you can also try to make a paragraph you are writing make sense (which entails the even more concrete attempt to hit the right keys on the computer with just the right amount of pressure). Thus, it is often said that actions (and the goals to which they relate) form a hierarchy (Carver & Scheier, 1998; Powers, 1973; Vallacher & Wegner, 1987). Abstract goals are attained by attaining the concrete goals that help define them (Figure 28.3). System concepts Principles Programs Sequences "Be" goals "Do" goals Motor control goals FIGURE 28.3. A hierarchy of goals (or of feedback loops). Lines indicate the contribution of lower level goals to specific higher level goals. They can also be read in the opposite direction, indicating that a given higher order goal specifies more concrete goals at the next lower level. The hierarchy described in text involves goals of "being" particular ways, which are attained by "doing" particular actions. Adapted from Carver and Scheier (1998). Copyright 1998 by Cambridge University Press. Adapted by permission. .536 VI. SELF-REGULATORY PROCESSES What makes one goal matter more than another? Generally, the higher in the hierarchy a goal is, the more important it is—the more central to the overall sense of self. Concrete action goals (at lower levels} acquire importance from the fact that attaining them serves the attainment of broader, more abstract goals (Carver & Scheier, 1998, 1999a, 1999b; Powers, 1973; Vallacher & Wegner, 1985). The stronger the link between a given concrete goal and a deep value of the self, the more important is that concrete goal. It is easy to disengage from unimportant goals. Important ones are hard to disengage from, for a very good reason. Giving them up creates a disruption (an enlarging discrepancy) with respect to higher level core values of the self. In light of the affect model described earlier, that disruption can be expected to create distress. Thus, if a concrete action goal is very important because of the nature of the self's organization, giving up on it is painful. For example, giving up the dream of becoming a surgeon after being unable to get into a medical school or being unable to do the required work successfully can shake one's self-image to its core. Indeed, giving up sometimes is even harder than that. Giving up the effort to combat a life-threatening illness means giving up on one's life. It follows that one influence on engagement and persistence is likely to be the goal's importance. That is, all other things being equal, people are likely to struggle longer and harder to reach an important goal than to reach a goal that is less important. This greater persistence should occur despite the fact that the distress resulting from failing to approach an important goal should also be greater. In some cases, it is possible to diminish the disruption that occurs at the higher level when giving up at a lower level, and thereby reduce the distress. This is because people often can satisfy the same higher order goal by engaging in diverse concrete activities. For an academic psychologist, many actions serve as pathways for making a contribution to one's profession, including doing and reporting original research, editing books that bring together several people's research, serving on committees in professional organizations, serving as a journal editor, serving as a department chair, and writing textbooks. The pathways to a given high order goal sometimes compensate for one another, so that if progress in one path is impeded, the person can shift efforts to a different one (Figure 28.4, Path 1). If one path is disrupted, another path may be taken instead, and indeed may become more important over time. By taking up an attainable alternative, the person remains engaged in progress toward the high-order goal. Although the process of switching pathways is not always free of distress, the end result is far less distress than if the person had remained committed to the initial pathway and been unable to move forward on it. Sometimes people do not turn to alternative paths that are already in place. They step outside their existing framework and develop new paths, take up new activities they have never done before. There are many ways in which this can occur, but they may share a common element. We believe that the newly adopted activity is very likely to be one that contributes to the expression of some preexisting core aspect of the self (Carver & Scheier, 1999b). Thus, the effect of the new activity is to continue to foster the preexisting core value (Figure 28.4, Path 2). Sometimes disengagement entails shifting from one concrete activity to another, but other times it involves something more subtle: scaling back from a lofty goal in a given domain to a less lofty one. This is a disengagement, in the sense that the person is giving up the first goal while adopting the lesser one (Figure 28.4, Path 3). It is more a limited disengagement than the cases already considered, in the sense that it does not entail leaving the behavioral domain. This shift keeps the person engaged in activity in the same domain that he or she had wanted to quit. By scaling back the goal (giving up in a small way), the person keeps trying to move ahead—thus not giving up, in a larger way. The person thereby retains the sense of purpose in activities in that domain. It should be apparent from this discussion that some instances of specific goal disengagement serve the paradoxical function of helping the person to continue efforts toward higher order values. This is particularly obvious with regard to concrete goals 28. Engagement and Disengagement 537 for which disengagement has little or no cost: People remove themselves from blind alleys and wrong streets, give up plans that have been disrupted by unexpected events, and go away and come back later if the store is closed. The same is also true, however, with regard to goals that are deeply connected to the self. Distress is lessened if one responds to the loss of a close relationship by letting it go (Field, Gal-Oz, &c Bonanno, 2003; Orbuch, 1992; Stroebe, Stroebe, & Hansson, 1993), but especially if one has other ways to satisfy core relationship needs. Similarly, the adverse impact of a disrupted career path can be lessened if the person can isolate what made that career so appealing, and find another career that also satisfies that desire. People need multiple paths to the core values of the self (cf. Linville, 1987; Showers & Ryff, 1996). That way, if one path becomes blocked or washed away, the person can jump to another one. Not every disengagement serves this adaptive function, of course. In some cases, there appears to exist no alternative goal. In such a case, disengagement is not accompanied by a shift, because there is nothing to which to shift. This is the perhaps worst situation, where there is nothing to take the place of what is seen as unattainable. If the commitment to the unattainable goal wanes and there is no substitute, the result is simply emptiness (Figure 28.4, Path 4). A Obstacles appraised as too great to overcome Give up effort, but remain committed to the goal B Give up goal commitment, disengage from goal 1 Distress, futility, helplessness Choose alternate path to high order goal Form new goal, new path to high order goal Scale back to limited goal in the same domain Potential for positive outcomes Potential for positive outcomes Potential for positive outcomes Aimlessness, emptiness, loneliness FIGURE 28.4. Responses to the perception that a goal is unattainable. The person (A) can remain committed to the goal and experience distress or (B) can dissolve the commitment and disengage from the goal. Disengagement has four potential patterns: (1) Choosing an alternative path to the same higher order value produces a situation in which positive outcomes and feelings are possible; (2) choosing a new goal yields a situation in which positive outcomes and feelings are possible; (3) scaling back aspirations while remaining in the same domain creates a situation in which positive outcomes and feelings are possible; (4) giving up commitment without turning to another goal, however, results in feelings of emptiness. From Carver and Scheier (2003). Copyright 2003 by the American Psychological Association. Reprinted by permission. 538 VI. SELF-REGULATORY PROCESSES In general, disengagement appears to be an adaptive response when it leads to—or is tied to—the taking up of other goals (cf. Aspinwall &c Richter, 1999; Wrosch, Scheier, Miller, Schulz, &c Carver, 2003). By taking up an attainable alternative, the person remains engaged in activities that have meaning for the self, and life continues to have purpose. Whenever one talks about disengagement and reengagement in a different pathway to a similar end, the issue of perceived competence emerges. People do not take up a particular pathway unless they feel they are competent to travel that path. Although there are many determinants of the choice of path, perceptions of the match between the demands of the path and the person's competencies play an important role. Thus, as an example, some psychologists serve their profession by serving as department heads, others by serving as editors. GRADATIONS, BIFURCATIONS, AND CATASTROPHES We turn now to a different issue. The dialectic between engagement and disengagement can be viewed in several different ways. The simplest way is to construe effort or even commitment as a linear continuum. In this view, task performance (or persistence, or effort) may be viewed as a reflection of the degree of the person's engagement with the task, with more engagement yielding better outcomes. This is the view that seems implicit, for example, in Bandura's model of the effects of self-efficacy (e.g., Bandura, 1997). People with a strong conviction that they can do something try harder at it than do people who lack that conviction, and the greater effort yields better outcomes. This linearly increasing view is readily applied to some contexts. However, there are also contexts in which it does not fit so well. In this section, we consider possibilities of greater complexity. We have long held that there is a psychological watershed among responses to adversity—that is, that the responses diverge (Carver &c Scheier, 1981) or (to use a currently more fashionable term) bifurcate, forming two categories. One class of responses reflects continued effort. The other reflects disengagement of effort. Just as rainwater falling on a mountain ridge ultimately flows to one side of the ridge or the other, so do behaviors ultimately flow to one or the other of these classes. We took this position over two decades ago largely because of findings that self-focus has opposite effects on behavior as a function of confidence versus doubt. We are not the only ones to have emphasized a disjunction among these responses, however. Others have also done so, for reasons of their own. One well-known model that bears on this issue is the integration between reactance and helplessness suggested by Wortman and Brehm (1975). Reactance and helplessness are virtual opposites. Both, however, appear to concern perceived problems with control. Wortman and Brehm argued that reactance and helplessness differ in the extent of the problem. Cases in which control is threatened, but not lost, are said to produce reactance and an attempt to reassert control. Perceptions that control is lost, in contrast, produce helplessless and giving up. Wortman and Brehm fit these ideas together by assuming a disjunction between two responses (reassertion and giving up) at the point where the perception of threat to control is becoming a perception that control is lost. This is a watershed model. Brehm and his collaborators (Brehm &C Self, 1989; Wright & Brehm, 1989) subsequently put forward an analysis of effort intensity, or task engagement, that appears to represent an extension or derivation from that earlier model. In this newer view, a person puts into behavior the effort that is needed to complete the behavior successfully. If a task is easy, thus requiring little effort, little effort will be expended. As the task becomes harder, more effort is needed to complete it, and more effort will be expended. In effect, the amount of effort expended grows to match the amount of effort needed. At some point on the difficulty dimension, however, the person is exerting maximum effort. If the task gets any harder, the person will see it as beyond his or her capacity. At that point, the situation changes, and changes rather abruptly. There is no point in investing effort in an impossible task. Thus, at this point, the person stops trying. Once more, the result is an abrupt disjunction be- 28. Engagement and Disengagement 539 tween two classes of response (see Wright, 1996, for a review of literature stemming from this theory). In simple terms, the principle behind this model is that you exert only as much effort as you need to succeed, and if no amount of effort will work, you quit. As this brief sketch makes clear, there is at least some theoretical basis for the argument that there is a disjunction between two classes of response: effort and disengagement. The two responses do not necessarily shade gradually into one another. Rather, one appears to give way to the other, and in many cases, the giving way seems to entail some degree of abruptness. Catastrophes The idea that there is a disjunction between these two classes of response has resonances in other areas of thought (for a broader treatment, see Carver &C Scheier, 1998). An example is what is called catastrophe theory. Catastrophe theory is a topological model that focuses on the creation of discontinuities, bifurcations, or splittings (Brown, 1995; Saunders, 1980; Stewart &c Peregoy, 1983; Thorn, 1975; van der Maas & Molenaar, 1992; Woodcock & Davis, 1978; Zeeman, 1976, 1977). A catastrophe occurs when a small change in one variable pro- duces an abrupt (and usually large) change in another variable. Many kinds of catastrophes exist (some of which are very difficult to visualize, because of the number of interacting variables involved). The kind that has been applied most frequently to human behavior is the cusp catastrophe, in which two control parameters (roughly equivalent to predictor variables) influence an outcome. Figure 28.5 portrays its three-dimensional surface. The control parameters here are x and £, and the outcome is y. Figure 28.6 displays three cross sections of this surface, slices made at three different values of variable z (moving from back to front of the surface in Figure 28.5). At low values of z, the surface of the catastrophe expresses a roughly linear relation between x and y. As x increases, so does y. As z increases, the relationship between x and y gradually becomes less linear, shifting toward something like a step function (Figure 28.6B). With yet further -increase in z, the x-y relationship becomes even more discontinuous, with the upper and lower surfaces now overlapping (Figure 28.6C). Thus, changes in z cause a change in the way that x relates to y. This overlap, called "hysteresis," is a particularly interesting feature of a catastrophe. There are several ways to characterize what this term measures and what it implies. The y FIGURE 28.5. Three-dimensional depiction of a cusp catastrophe. Variables x and z are predictors; y is the system's "behavior," the dependent variable. From Carver and Scheier (1998). Copyright 1998 by Cambridge University Press. Reprinted by permission. 540 VI. SELF-REGULATORY PROCESSES easiest way to start is to say is that at some range of z, there is a "foldover" in the middle of the x-y relationship. A region of x exists in which there is more than one value of y. This area is illustrated more precisely in Figure 28.7, which shows the same cross section as in Figure 28.6C. Not all areas of the three-dimensional surface have the same properties. In particular, the dashed-line portion of Figure 28.7 that lies between values a and b on the x axis— the region where the fold is going "backward"—is different from the rest of the surface. It is generated by the mathematical function, but the behaving system that the function is modeling will never actually be there. The system will always be either at the surface above it or at the surface below it. But which one? Interestingly, the behavior of the system that is being modeled depends on its recent history (Brown, 1995; Nowak fic Lewenstein, 1994). Place yourself mentally on the surface (which you will recall is the outcome variable created by x and z). As you move into the range of variable x that lies between points a and b in Figure 28.7, a great deal depends on which side of the figure you are moving from. If the system (whatever it is) is moving from point c into the zone of hysteresis, it stays on the bottom surface until it reaches point b, where it shifts abruptly to the top surface. If it is moving from point d into the zone of hysteresis, it stays on the top surface until it reaches point a, where it shifts abruptly to the bottom surface. Thus, continuing move- A Back x B Middle C Front x FIGURE 28.6. Three cross sections through a cusp catastrophe, illustrating relations between x and y from Figure 28.5: (A) Toward the back of the surface (relatively low values of z), the relation between x and y is relatively linear; (B) toward the middle of the surface (moderate values of 2), the function spreads on the vertical axis and a nonlinear relation has begun to emerge between x and y, resembling a step function; (C) toward the front of the surface (larger values of 2), the function spreads even farther on the vertical axis, and a region of overlap develops between upper and lower surfaces of the figure. From Carver and Scheier (1998). Copyright 1998 by Cambridge University Press. Reprinted by permission. 28. Engagement and Disengagement 541 y a b d X FIGURE 28.7. A cusp catastrophe exhibits a region of hysteresis (between values a and b on the x axis), in which x has two stable values of y (the solid lines) and one unstable value (the dotted line that cuts backward in the middle of the figure). Traversing the zone of hysteresis from the left of this figure results in an abrupt shift (at value b on the x axis) from the lower to the upper portion of the surface (right arrow). Traversing the zone of hysteresis from the right of this figure results in an abrupt shift (at value a on the x axis) from the upper to the lower portion of the surface (left arrow). Thus, the disjunction between portions of the surface occurs at two different values of x, depending on the starting point. From Carver and Scheier (1998). Copyright 1998 by Cambridge University Press. Reprinted by permission. ment from either extreme of x toward the other extreme enters a region where either of two outcomes occurs, depending on the starting point. How does catastrophe theory apply to human behavior? Several applications have been suggested (see Carver &c Scheier, 1998, Chapter 15), one of which is of particular interest here: that confidence versus doubt as a partial determinant of effort versus disengagement may feed into a catastrophe (Figure 28.8). Thus, rather than always being linearly related to engagement, expectan- cies may sometimes be involved in discontinuities in engagement. If there is actually a catastrophe here, there should be a region of hysteresis in the relation between expectancies and engagement. "We are unaware of behavioral evidence on this issue. There is, however, evidence that suggests a catastrophe in the perception of expectancies themselves. People's levels of confidence, once formed, tend to remain stable in the face of disconfirming evidence. A study making this point (though done for a different reason) was conducted some time Engagement, effort, or persistence Low High Confidence FIGURE 28.8. A catastrophe model of effort versus disengagement. From Carver and Scheier (1998). Copyright 1998 by Cambridge University Press. Reprinted by permission. 542 VI. SELF-REGULATORY PROCESSES ago by Langer and Roth (1975). Participants received (or observed someone else receiving) false feedback of success or failure on each of 30 trials guessing (rigged) coin tosses. There were always 15 successes and 15 failures, but with different patterns. In one condition, the early part of the series was mostly failures, with a gradual shift to successes. In another condition, the early part of the series was mostly successes, with a gradual shift to failures (there was also a random condition that we ignore here). After 30 trials, participants completed questionnaires, including items asking how often they (or the person they observed) had been correct on the 30 trials, and how many successes would have occurred if there had been 100 more trials. Participants who had started with mostly successes reported having more success than those who had started with mostly failures. A similar pattern, though weaker, emerged in expectations for the next 100 trials. Those with early success expected more success; those with early failure expected more failure. This pattern indicates that people tend to hold onto initial perceptions, even in the face of contradictory information. In the same way, we suspect that a person who enters the region of hysteresis from the direction of high confidence (who starts out confident but confronts many contradictory cues) will continue to display efforts and engagement, even as the situational cues imply less and less basis for confidence (cf. Peterson et al., 2003). A person who enters that region from the direction of low confidence (who starts out doubtful but confronts contradictory cues) will continue to display little effort, even as the situational cues imply more and more basis for confidence. This model helps indicate why it can be so difficult to get someone with strong and chronic doubts about success in some domain to exert real effort and engagement in that domain. It also provides a clearer sense of why a confident person is so rarely put off by encountering difficulties in the domain where the confidence lies. In terms of life in general, it helps show why optimists tend to stay optimistic and pessimists tend to stay pessimistic, even when their current circumstances are identical (i.e., are in the region of hysteresis; see also Aldwin, 1994, regarding divergent responses to stress). The Wortman and Brehm (1975) model is reminiscent of the middle stage of the development of the catastrophe surface, where something resembling a step function has begun to emerge, but the region of hysteresis does not yet exist (Figure 28.6B). Does a region of hysteresis eventually develop? We suspect that there are cases in which a person who enters the situation with the strong belief of no control will continue to show little effort even when control begins to emerge. We also suspect that there are cases in which a person struggling with a threat to control will continue to struggle even when control disappears. Such effects of the person's behavioral history would yield hysteresis. We think a case can be made for a region of hysteresis in the Brehm and Self (1989) model as well. A critical issue in this case may be the ambiguity of the situation the person faces. That theory tends to assume that the person knows the point at which maximum effort is required. But this will not always be true. A person who begins with a task that is far too hard to perform won't try seriously. If the task changes gradually, so that success is now possible, how will the person know, if only half-hearted effort is being exerted? Not knowing that success is now possible, why would the person try harder? A person who begins with a task that is challenging but attainable will exert strong effort. But how will this person know if the task demands increase to exceed his or her maximum potential effort, unless he or she continues to try? In short, it appears that there is good potential here for a region of hysteresis. Two further points should be made here. First, we should be clear that however interesting these ideas are, evidence on them is lacking. Apparently the processes of effort and disengagement have not been studied in a parametric manner that would allow plotting effort across the full range of expectancies. The idea of a carryover as the task characteristics shift (i.e., a region of hysteresis) has not been around long, and it has not been the subject of any investigation of which we are aware. A second point is that it is important to realize that catastrophe theory does not predict hysteresis all the time, but only under certain conditions. Farther back on the ca- 28. Engagement and Disengagement 543 tastrophe surface, the relation of x to y looks more like a step function (Figure 28.6B). Farther back yet, it looks more like a linear function (Figure 28.6A). In order to see the hysteresis, it is critical to engage the control variable that is responsible for bringing out the bifurcation in the surface. If this variable is not at the appropriate level, the hysteresis would not emerge, even if the research procedures were otherwise suitable to observe it. Inducing the Catastrophe This raises an important question. What variable induces the bifurcation? We think that in the cases under discussion here, the variable is importance. Tesser (1980) pointed to social pressure as a potentially critical variable in another application of the catastrophe model. Our interpretation is that social pressure is only one of several forces that can make a behavior or a decision important. There are common threads among important events. In each case, the person preparing to act has something on the line. Important actions demand mental resources. We suspect that almost any strong pressure that demands resources (time pressure, self-imposed pressure, strong connection to a higher order value of the self) will induce similar bifurcating effects. When things are important, when there is a lot at stake, there seems to be a tendency toward polarization (see also Baron, Vandello, & Brunsman, 1996). Earlier in the chapter, we suggested that people would continue their task efforts longer in the face of developing doubt when the goal was important than when it was not. Our argument there was based on the idea that it is hard to disengage from a value that is central to the self, because of the disruption it creates within the self. Thus, persistence should be greater for important than for unimportant goals. It is of interest that the catastrophe principle makes the same point about persistence, and actually adds to it. The previous discussion implicitly assumed a behavioral history in which the person began with the belief that the goal was attainable. However, the catastrophe model adds the prediction that a person who begins with the belief that the goal is not attainable will stay in disengage- ment mode longer (as doubt fades) when the goal is important than when it is not. These ideas are intriguing but untested. They seem to us to be worth exploring in some depth. Essentially the same principle is already under investigation in the context of close relationships (Gottman, Murray, Swanson, Tyson, & Swanson, 2002; Gottman, Swanson, & Swanson, 2002) and in the context of alcohol relapse (Hufford, Witkiewitz, Shields, Kodya, & Caruso, 2003). We hope to see it explored as well in the years to come with regard to other kinds of motives. COMPETENCE, PERSISTENCE, AND DISENGAGEMENT This volume contains a set of chapters that present differing perspectives on competence and motivation. In closing, we return to that overarching theme and reiterate what we regard as our contribution to it. People are engaged throughout their lives in a continuing process of both using and expanding their competencies. Engagement in effortful action is based in part on the perception that one has the competence needed to potentially succeed at attaining the goal. The competence in question might be a particular skill that is needed for the activity; alternatively, it might be the more general ability to acquire the skill needed to perform the activity (cf. Dweck, 1996). In either case, without the relevant sense of competence, effort will be minimal or brief. For successful negotiation of the challenges life provides, however, we believe yet another kind of competence is also important: the ability to know when to continue the effort to reach a goal, and when to disengage and let it go. This is an important competence, because misapplication of either of these choices creates what many would hold to be adverse outcomes. Giving up a goal that is attainable at a reasonable cost results in what some would see as a stunted life, a life in which challenges go unmet and accomplishments within reach are foregone. On the other side, continued commitment to an unattainable goal produces continued distress. Whether either of these outcomes is bad for the person is a value judgment that var- 544 VI. SELF-REGULATORY PROCESSES ies from one philosophical stance to another. For some people, there may be enough value in maintaining high aspirations to compensate for the negative feelings that result from the inability to move toward them adequately. For other people, there may be enough value in accommodating quickly to the intractability of a situation to compensate for the lost attainments that a demanding struggle might bring. For most people, however, the best path is somewhere between these two extremes. This intermediate path requires the competence to judge what kind of situation one is facing. Is this a situation where you should hang on, or a situation where you should let go? ACKNOWLEDGMENTS Preparation of this chapter was facilitated by support from the National Cancer Institute (Grant Nos. CA64710, CA64711, CA78995, and CA84944) and the National Heart, Lung, and Blood Institute (Grant Nos. HL65111 and HL 65112). REFERENCES Aldwin, C. M. (1994). Stress, coping, and development: An integrative perspective. New York: Guilford Press. Aspinwall, L. G., & Richter, L. (1999). Optimism and self-mastery predict more rapid disengagement from unsolvable tasks in the presence of alternatives. Motivation and Emotion, 23, 221-245. 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Catastrophe theory: Selected papers 1972-1977. Reading, MA: Benjamin. DEFENSIVE STRATEGIES CHAPTER 29 GS Defensive Strategies, Motivation, and the Self A Self-Regulatory Process View FREDERICK RHODEWALT KATHLEEN D. VOHS «"vy/ho am I?" Most people respond to W this question with a list of characteristics that includes dispositions, values, goals, and, most important, competencies. In fact, self-perceptions of competency touch on most every aspect of the self. A typical response to the "Who am I?" question might be, "I am charming (social competency), intuitive and insightful (intellectual competencies), and a golfer (athletic competency}." When asked about personal projects or goals, people report pursuing goals in which competency is either the means to, or the end state of goal attainment: "I am working on getting along better with people, learning to appreciate the Postimpressionists, and lowering my golf handicap." It is not surprising then, that our senses of competency, agency, and effectiveness un-dergird our global self-esteem. In fact, Tafarodi and Swann (1995) have provided evidence that global self-esteem is composed of the somewhat independent dimensions of self-liking and self-competency. "Self-liking" refers to the extent to which people feel a sense of positive regard from others. "Self-competency," in contrast, reflects self-esteem derived from an evaluation of what one can do.1 Two implications of competency-based self-esteem are the focus of this chapter. First, because self-worth2 is based, in part, on self-evaluations of competency in various domains, people should be highly motivated to display those competencies in relevant situations. The very definition of "competency" implies the capacity to produce effective, goal-directed behavior on demand. More specifically, given that their senses of competency are one critical basis of self-worth, people should be highly ego-involved in those situations in which their competency is on the line. The self-defined golfer should be more concerned about, and more emotionally involved in, a round of golf than should be the accidental 548 29. Defensive Strategies, Motivation, and the Self 549 hacker, who is out for an afternoon of fun in the sun with friends. Second, because competency presumes the ability to produce desired consequences, performance feedback, successes, and failures imply something about the degree to which one possesses the competency in question. Therefore, performance outcomes become linked to one's self-worth via the diagnostic information that such outcomes provide about competency. None of this would be too complicated (1) if there were clear, objective, and unambiguous performance standards by which to measure competency; (2) if, relatedly, competency evaluation were not so often dependent on social comparison and interpersonal feedback; (3) if competencies, presumed to be a property of the individual, were not so context-dependent; and most important, (4) if people were always accurately confident about their skills, abilities, and capacities. Unfortunately, for the purposes of clear and confident self-understanding, most competencies are defined socially and in circumscribed contexts. Consider, for example, intellectual competency. A young adult is believed to be intelligent based upon grades in college courses compared to other students who take the same courses at the same time. "Intelligence" in this case is defined as performance in specific contexts relative to others. However, our lay theories of competency in general and intelligence in particular assume generality across contexts and shifting comparison groups. The expectation is that the capable undergradate will also be a successful graduate student or an accomplished businessperson. For many people, self-assessments of competency, and their related feelings of self-worth, are inferred from personal histories that include ambiguous, inconsistent, or overly circumscribed experiences (see Jones & Berglas, 1978, for a similar argument). Although they may believe that they possess desired competencies, they are not confident in these assessments. This is not a problem so long as they are not called upon to perform or to provide evidence of their competency in a novel context, or for a new audience. It is only then that they are confronted with the possibility of disconfirmation, disrespect, or rejection. The stakes are high for these people. In addition to issues of compe- tency, their self-esteem, because it is linked to competency, is also under siege. In this chapter, we are concerned with what people do when they are threatened with the disconfirmation of a desired competency self-image. Specifically, we focus on the defensive cognitive, emotional, and behavioral responses that are in the service of competency-related self-image protection. We take the perspective that most defensive strategies can be understood in terms of self-regulatory processes that are internally coherent and, at least in the short term, adaptive or successful. Self-handicapping behavior (Jones & Berglas, 1978; Rhodewalt & Tragakis, 2002) is used to illustrate the self-regulatory processing approach to defensive strategies. Other defensive strategies are then interpreted in terms of our model. We conclude the chapter with a discussion of defensive behavior and accurate self-assessment of ability, competency, and self-worth. Although we assume that all people's self-esteem is anchored, in part, by their senses of competency and efficacy, there are broad individual differences in conceptions of competency, thresholds for experiencing threat, and the preferred strategies employed in response to threat. Consider two college seniors, both of whom believe that they are academically talented but who have yet to prove that talent in graduate school. For both students, the upcoming Graduate Record Examination (ORE) poses a potential threat to their competency and esteem. The night before the exam, one senior gets in some light studying, has a good meal, and gets a full night's sleep, while the other stays out until very late, gets quite drunk, and wakes 30 minutes before the exam starts. The former set of behaviors would be nondefensive, since this student is approaching the upcoming threatening situation diligently, with behaviors clearly aimed at achieving the goal of doing well on the test. The latter behaviors are defensive, because they potentially mask the extent to which performance indicates the student's "true" abilities (see the later section on self-handicapping). In the course of describing our model, we also address the psychological units and processes that give rise to these individual differences in the frequency of use and the preferred modes of defensive behavior. 550 VI. SELF-REGULATORY PROCESSES CONCEPT OF DEFENSE WITHIN THE PROCESS OF SELF-REGULATION Our core assumption is that people possess desired or valued self-images, including competency images, Moreover, they are motivated to produce outcomes that verify these competencies. Such confirmation sustains or boosts self-esteem, while confirmation failure threatens or damages self-esteem. There is wide agreement in the social-psychological literature that people are motivated to view themselves positively (Leary & Downs, 1995; Sedikides & Strube, 1995) and to have others view them in a way that is consistent with their self-views (Swann, 1983, 1985). Given the importance of competency to feelings of self-worth, it follows that people would develop ways of defending these self-views in the face of challenges to their veracity. What is meant by defense? The concept of defense has had a long and often controversial history in psychology, in part because of its principal residency within psychodynam-ic psychology (see Paulus, Fridhandler, & Hayes, 1997, for a recent review). Paulus et al. (1997) noted that, traditionally, "psychological defense" has been defined as "the process of regulating painful emotions such as anxiety, depression, and self-esteem" (p. 543) and "defense mechanisms" have been viewed as "mental processes that operate unconsciously to reduce some painful emotion" (p. 543). Typically, these terms have been used to connote indirect, implicit, or otherwise unhealthy means of alleviating negative emotions. Our approach to the discussion of defense is both narrower and broader than traditional conceptions of the construct. In our view, psychological defense reflects efforts to maintain desired self-images, including beliefs about one's competency in the face of threatening feedback. These defensive acts may be cognitively, affectively, behaviorally, or interpersonally based behaviors—or some combination—enacted by the individual in anticipation of, or as a reaction to threats to the self. Although the defenses differ in function, they share the common element of defending the self by changing or altering the interpretation of "psychological reality." Whether these defensive strategies are conscious or unconscious, automatic or controlled, is not the main focus of this perspec- tive. Undoubtedly, self-deception is at that heart of most defensive behavior but, as we argue in a later section, individuals have some implicit or explicit awareness of their strategic behavior. From this perspective, psychological defense is a special case of self-regulation. In our view, the maintenance and protection of competency self-images embody the constructs and processes described in the social intelligence model of personality (Cantor & Kihlstrom, 1987; see also Cantor, 1990, 1994). The social intelligence perspective is that people bring their social intelligence (self-conceptions, autobiographical memories, constructs, decision rules, and if-then contingencies) to bear on the problems that they are currently trying to solve. People set goals, define challenges to be met and problems to be solved, and then choose and shape situations in order to meet these goals and solve these problems. With specific reference to defensive acts, at the most abstract level of generalization, the problem to be solved is one of maintaining coherence between self-beliefs about competency and external contexts that may challenge those beliefs. The way that people define these beliefs, perceive threats, and select strategic responses to blunt or redirect those threats constitutes the essence of the defensive problem-solving cycle. Figure 29.1 displays the competency-defense self-regulation cycle. The cycle includes both individual difference characteristics (distal motives) and situational factors, including transient goal states (proximal motives). Motivation in this model reflects chronic or acute orientations to protect competency images from threat or discon-firmation. With regard to distal motivation, people may have had competency-related learning histories that were capricious and inconsistent, so that although they believe that they possess high ability or skill, confidence in these assessments is uncertain. People also differ in their contingencies of self-worth (Crocker & Wolfe, 2001). Some are more convinced than others that the display of competency is linked to love and acceptance by significant others. In addition, people's naive theories about the extent to which competencies are modifiable (Dweck, 1999; D week & Leggett, 1988) contribute to distal defensive motivation. Finally, people vary in 29. Defensive Strategies, Motivation, and the Self 551 t * / 1f Distal Motives (Self-Concepts, Goals Si Concerns) ---^ Proximal Motives (Situational cuestoÜireat) I Defensive -- ,___w ^\ Acts J ^ Outcomes FIGURE 29.1. Competency/defense self-regulation cycle. how central any given competency is to their sense of self-worth. Self-defining competencies are more vulnerable to threat than are more peripheral self-views. In short, distal defensive motivation is high when people's senses of competency are high but fragile, when the competency forms an important basis of self-worth, and when people believe that the competency in question is stable and unmodifiable. It is low to the extent that people are confident in their ability, view the competency as less important to self-worth, or believe that the competency can be modified through factors such as effort, practice, and instruction. Proximal defensive motivation reflects current demands on the individual. Current demands take meaning in the context of chronic distal motives and concerns. For example, being called upon to demonstrate business acumen with a new corporate partner is more threatening for individuals who are unclear about the causes of their past successes than for those who are certain of their abilities in this domain. The primary contextual trigger is the demand to produce an ability-related outcome. However, other situational factors can exacerbate threat to one's competency beliefs. Situations that differ from past competency-relevant arenas contribute to the individual's uncertainty about displaying the ability or skill in the new context. For instance, graduate school provides a test of intellectual competency that calls upon similar competencies that produced success in college. Nonetheless, it is not clear that competencies that were sufficient for success in college will be equally sufficient for success in graduate school. Thus, the proximal situation presents a potential threat that should be experienced more intensely by those who possess chronic defensive motivation than in those who do not. People have a vast array of defensive responses available that encompass both intrapersonal and interpersonal tactics. In general, people use these strategies to regulate emotions and thoughts about self-beliefs. The examples provided here are by no means exhaustive; rather, they provide a sample of the types of responses people enlist in defense of the self. The distinction between intra- and interpersonal defensive strategies is also somewhat arbitrary, in that many strategies are both. For instance, self-handicapping behavior is a defensive strategy that enables individuals to dismiss incompetence as an explanation for poor performance (an intrapersonal outcome) and also protect their self-images in the eyes of others (an interpersonal consequence). Defensive strategies are intrapersonally based to the extent that they arise and proceed primarily within the head of the person, and involve interpretations and distortions of meaning. The purpose of these tactics is to allow interpretations of self and situation that preserve desired competency images. Defensive strategies are interpersonally based to the extent that the defensive person uses other people to bolster feelings and thoughts about the self. These strategies allow people to modify their thoughts or feelings about others, to alter perceived relationship closeness, or to use others as an audience that serves to verify the self, or at least the self as displayed for public consumption. Intrapersonal Strategies People's self-protective cognitive gymnastics can be quite remarkable. They have an uncanny ability to take self-relevant but 552 VI. SELF-REGULATORY PROCESSES threatening information about the self (or the anticipation thereof) and turn it into something more benign. Attribution processes are perhaps the most fundamental and widely used intrapersonal defensive strategy; they are the "duct tape" in the defensive strategy toolbox. Greenwald's (1980) influential article on the totalitarian ego brought to light the point that people are generally biased to see themselves as good and competent. In this review of the literature, Greenwald coined the term "beneffectance," a word that is a combination of the words "beneficence" (meaning to do good) and "effectance" (meaning to be competent), to reflect people's tendency to view themselves as producers of good but not bad outcomes. The self-serving attribution bias is one manifestation of beneffectance. People persistently offer internal attributions for success and external attributions for failure (Miller & Ross, 1975; Weary, 1978). Most important to this discussion, self-serving attributions are triggered or exacerbated by threats to the self. Self-serving attributions take the form of crediting the self for good outcomes but blaming others or the situation for bad outcomes. For instance, if a golfer has a particularly good round during a day on the course, he may think that the modification he made to his swing is to credit. Conversely, if on the next round, he has a particularly terrible score, he may blame the other people with whom he golfed for being too distracting during his shots. Support for the idea that self-serving attributions are pronounced under conditions of threat is found in the Campbell and Sedikides (1999) meta-analysis of data from approximately 7,000 participants. The data revealed that self-threat exercised a considerable influence on the magnitude of self-serving attribution biases. More pertinent to this discussion, the association between self-threat and the self-serving bias was a function of not only the presence of threat-related situational factors (e.g., status differences) but also motivation-related individual differences (e.g., achievement motivation). Thus, from the perspectives of beneffectance and the self-serving bias, people defensively call upon tried-and-true attributional defenses in times of threat, in order to alter their causal interpretations and protect the self. A different intrapersonal defensive strat- egy involves selective recall and editing of autobiographical memories. This work builds on Michael Ross's pioneering work on biased recall of personal histories {for a review, see Ross, 1989). This research has been termed "revising what you had to get what you want" (see Conway & Ross, 1984), which is an apt descriptor of what people do when they are motivated to justify or accommodate their current circumstances. There is evidence that such revisionist history can be called upon in response to threats the self. Ybarra (1999) provided participants with positive feedback, negative feedback, or no feedback about their performance on an analogies test, then also provided positive and negative information about a target person. Results from an incidental recall task for the target's behaviors revealed that negative-feedback participants showed the misanthropy effect by recalling more negative than positive target behaviors. Although not directly tested, the implication of these findings is that memory distortions may result from the need for self-esteem protection. Rhodewalt and Eddings (2002) provide a more direct test of the self-esteem protection hypothesis in their study of narcissism and autobiographical memory distortion. High- and low-narcissistic men were interviewed by a woman, purportedly for the purposes of a possible date, and also reported their romantic histories. A week later, they learned that the woman had chosen or rejected them as her dating partner. Participants again recalled their history of romantic relationships. Narcissistic men who were rejected reported dating histories that were significantly more self-aggrandizing than the histories that they had reported prior to the rejection. Moreover, the more they inflated their romantic pasts, the more their self-esteem was protected from the effects of the rejection. In summary, people construct and reinterpret their understandings of past events, as well as their personal attributes, feelings, and experiences, in order to bolster current self-views and self-beliefs. Whether they are cognitive gymnasts, totalitarian rulers, or reconstructive historians, people find a way to regulate intrapersonally relevant self- and social knowledge so as to preserve desired self-beliefs about who they were to aid them in thinking about who they are. 29. Defensive Strategies, Motivation, and the Self 553 Interpersonal Strategies The interpersonal arena also affords venues for defensive behavior, in that most defensive strategies involve public behaviors, social interactions, or interpersonal relationships. It stands to reason that if other individuals are often sources of threat, then they should also be potential implements in diffusing these threats. It is a special feature of interpersonal defensive behaviors that they create or manipulate the reactions of other individuals, or that the behaviors have clear and direct implications for the nature of an interpersonal relationship. The reactions of others, which are often not the ones intended by the actor, thus intensify rather than ameliorate the threat, requiring additional defensive reactions from the threatened individual. Perhaps the best illustration of interpersonal defensive behavior may be found in re-' search inspired by Tesser's self-evaluation maintenance theory (SEM; 1988). In essence, SEM involves manipulating interpersonal closeness for the purpose of self-esteem protection or enhancement. For instance, people feel threatened when someone close to them, such as a good friend, has outperformed them on a domain that is important and relevant to their self-concept.3 According to Tesser, the state of "comparison threat" triggers a number of possible self-evaluation maintenance responses. A person experiencing comparison threat from a close other may attempt to reduce the threat by decreasing either the perceived (or actual) closeness of the relationship or the relevance of the domain to the self-concept. In our framework, the former response would be interpersonal, and the latter would be intrapersonal. There is an abundance of findings supporting the SEM model. For example, Tesser demonstrated that the when siblings were outperformed by a brother or sister close in age (i.e., relevance of the comparison is high), participants decreased the closeness of the relationship by lowering the extent to which they identified with that sibling. Another SEM strategy is to sabotage the threatening individual, so that he or she is less likely to do well in the future. For example, students failed to give a friend the best help (as measured by the quality of hints that were given to the friend by the participant to help him or her on a verbal test) when the friend had outperformed them on an earlier verbal test (Pemberton & Sedikides, 2001). Consistent with an SEM perspective, interpersonal reactions of anger and hostility are frequent defensive reactions exhibited when people encounter a threat to their competencies. Along with anger and hostility, people also alter their views of others to become more denigrating (Morf & Rhodewalt, 1993). High self-esteem people may be particularly prone to this type of defensive response. For instance, high self-esteem people who are threatened by negative competency feedback respond by derogating others, namely, they decrease how favorably they rate generalized others and even personal friends (Brown, 1986; Brown & Gallagher, 1992). In another example, Fein and Spencer (1997) reported that high self-esteem people threatened by negative feedback about their intellectual competencies derogated outgroup members to a greater extent than did threatened low self-esteem participants. Furthermore, derogating others seemed to have served a compensatory function, in that those participants who played the derogation card also experienced a boost in self-esteem. Strategic self-presentations are frequently used for interpersonal defensive purposes. For example, people respond with self-aggrandizing presentations when they feel threatened, and with approval seeking when they feel rejected. In one investigation, Baumeister and Jones (1978) found that people who believed that their interaction partner saw a "personality profile" of theirs that contained negative information about their abilities, responded with compensatory self-enhancement. Specifically, they evaluated more positively their skills in other, unrelated domains. A qualification to this finding is that it occurred primarily among high self-esteem people for whom negative feedback threatens a positive self-perception of abilities more so than for people with low self-esteem. One question that is pertinent throughout this discussion of defensive behavior: Do these strategies work? The answer to this question within the domain of defensive self-presentations is complex, because self-presentational strategies rely on the responses of 554 VI. SELF-REGULATORY PROCESSES others. Thus, their success may be considered in terms of interpersonal costs and benefits. In general these costs should be high given that threatened individuals (particularly those with high self-esteem) make more self-aggrandizing statements (Baumeister, 1982) and derogate the source of threat (Morf & Rhodewalt, 1993). Because of these characteristic responses to threat, Vohs and Heatherton (2003; Heatherton & Vohs, 2000) hypothesized that high self-esteem people would be seen as less likable after receiving information that their intellectual abilities are below average. This prediction was supported by the finding that threatened high self-esteem people received lower likeability ratings from previously unacquainted interaction partners (who had been given no information about the person's intellectual abilities and was thus unthreat-ened). Low self-esteem people, conversely, were liked more after being told that they possessed subpar intellectual abilities, a topic we discuss more fully when we consider individual differences in rejection sensitivity as a defensive strategy. Threatened high self-esteem participants were seen by their partners as arrogant, unfriendly, rude, uncooperative, and insincere. Apparently, they self-enhanced to their partners during the course of the interaction and, as a consequence, were less appealing. Additional studies showed there to be an explicit social comparison dimension to this effect, such that high self-esteem people who were told that their intellectual abilities were poor responded by boosting judgments of themselves relative to their interaction partner and generalized others (Vohs & Heatherton, 2003). Research on self-verification processes (Swann, 1985) also supports the notion that people respond to threat with strategic self-presentations. When people engage in self-verification, they are choosing or eliciting from the environment feedback that conforms to their preestablished views of self. This desire to receive feedback consistent with self-beliefs has been found to hold across self-esteem levels and other personality traits. The purpose of self-verification is to increase control and predictability of outcomes in an uncertain world (Swann, Stein-Seroussi, &c Giesler, 1992). There are two types of self- and other-perception discrepancies that threaten one's competencies: one in which others' perceptions are more positive than one's self-view, and the other, in which one's self-perceptions are more positive than others' perceptions. In the former case, threat arises from the idea that others may be expecting better performance or outcomes than one can actually produce. In the latter, threat arises from the idea that others are underestimating one's likely performance. Both can therefore be problematic, because they set the stage for perceptions of one's abilities that will not match up to actual performance. In this section, we have provided an overview of the cognitive, behavioral, and interpersonal responses that can be summoned in response to threats to the self. Each strategy was characterized as being primarily intra-or interpersonal, and research demonstrating their defensive nature was reviewed. This selective list is offered only to illustrate the wide range of responses that can be enlisted in the service of preserving one's self-concept and sense of competency. We return now to the competency/defense self-regulation model by providing examples of how specific defensive strategies form the nucleus of a cycle of behavior that we characterize as defensive styles. DEFENSIVE STYLES People differ in the learning histories upon which their competency self-conceptions are built. Moreover, they vary in the extent to which competency defines self-worth, and they diverge in their theories about the underlying causes of competency. All of these factors, we have argued, underlie distal defensive motivation. The combination of these elements also shapes problem definition, so that challenges to competency images take on different meanings and suggest different solutions (defensive reactions) for different people. One conclusion of this reasoning is that there should be consistent individual differences in the employment of preferred defensive strategies; that is, there should be defensive styles. Self-handicapping behavior provides an excellent example of the competency/defense self-regulation cycle as manifested in a unique defensive style. "Self-handicapping" is a defensive strategy in which people create, or at least claim, obstacles to successful performances when 29. Defensive Strategies, Motivation, and the Self 555 they harbor doubts about their ability to be successful, and when failure would confirm that the ability is lacking (Jones & Berglas, 1978). According to Jones and Berglas, the person who arrives late for a job interview or who gets drunk the night before taking the bar examination to enter legal practice is manipulating in a self-serving way the attributions that one may draw about the actor's ability or competency. Tardiness and inebriation not only decrease the likelihood of receiving an offer of employment or passing the examination, but they also protect one's belief that he or she has the ability to do well. Jones and Berglas argued that the self-handicapper is capitalizing on the attri-butional principles of discounting and augmentation (Kelley, 1972); that is, conclusions about lack of ability are discounted, or downplayed, because the handicap offers an equally plausible explanation for the rejection or failure. In the unlikely event of suc: cess, attributions to ability are augmented, or accorded greater causal importance, because the good performance happened despite the handicap. The self-handicapper then is willing to trade the increased likelihood of failure for the opportunity to protect a desired self-image. It is important to point out that self-handicappers are willing to accept the label of slacker or drunkard in order to preserve a more central belief that they are competent. The label implied by the handicap is almost always applied to a quality that is external to the individual or is believed to be under the individual's control, while the attribute that is being protected is believed to be fixed and unmodifiable, a point to which we return momentarily. Over the past quarter-century, self-handicapping behavior has been extensively investigated (for reviews, see Arkin &c Oleson, 1998; Rhodewalt & Tragakis, 2002). Collectively, this work illustrates the competency-defense model outlined in Figure 29.1. Research findings can be grouped into categories representing the distal and proximal antecedents of self-handicapping, the strategic behaviors enlisted in the service of self-handicapping, and the consequences of these behaviors for the individual. Figure 29.2 provides a schematic of this model for self-handicapping behavior. As in the generic Figure 29.1, self-handicapping is recursive in the sense that the consequences of self-handicapping feed back into the process and reinforce self-handicapping acts, while maintaining, or perhaps exacerbating, antecedent motives and concerns. Distal Motives In their original theoretical statement, Jones and Berglas (1978) proposed that self-handicapping is motivated by a desire to protect a positive but insecurely held competency im- Fined Them, Competence J Dutal Motives Proximal Motives Consequences FIGURE 29.2. Self-handicapping self-regulation cycle. Adapted from Rhodewalt and Tragakis (2002). Copyright 2002. Reproduced by permission of Routledge/Taybr & Francis Books, Inc. 556 VI. SELF-REGULATORY PROCESSES age. In fact, the standard experimental paradigm employed to elicit self-handicapping behavior in the laboratory provides participants with response-noncontingent success feedback on an important competency such as intellectual ability. This experimental manipulation is thought to mimic real-world situations in which people are uncertain of what they did to produce the success that is being attributed to their competency. For example, publication of scholarly papers in prestigious journals is evidence of the brilliance of the researcher. The introspective researcher need only think of all of the serendipity that went into the production of that scientific publication to be uncertain that he or she can replicate that brilliance in the future. The experimental evidence consistently shows that compared to individuals who receive response-contingent success feedback, participants who receive response-noncontingent success feedback subsequently opt to self-handicap prior to taking a second ability test. This experimental analogue is thought to reflect the real-world circumstance of people who have experienced success in the past and attributed that success to their ability, but are uncertain that the attribution is correct. In summary, one distal motivation to engage in self-handicapping behavior involves competency self-images derived from a capricious history of success. Consider two entering college freshmen who both wish to believe that they are academically gifted but differ in the past events that would support such a claim. One student may have attained an almost perfect high school grade point average (GPA), been a National Merit scholar, and earned an academic scholarship. This student studied conscientiously but did not spend every waking minute hitting the books. The second student may also have an almost perfect high school GPA, but here the comparison with the first student ends. The second student's mother was the high school principal; this student played sports and in fact had been awarded an athletic scholarship to college. This student studied very hard and at several times throughout high school received tutoring. Both students want to interpret their high grades as evidence of superb academic ability, but the former student should be more confident in this judgment than the latter, because this student experienced more ability-contingent academic successes than the second student. The second student also experienced academic success, but it was unclear because of other plausible explanations whether these successes were attributable to ability. How much did the mother's power over the teachers, the teachers' concerns about the student's athletic eligibility, or extraordinary effort and exceptional preparation contribute to this student's high grades? Both students in the foregoing example should be equally comfortable until called upon to produce evidence of their academic ability. It is at this point that the student who is uncertain might be drawn to self-handicap. However, not all individuals who harbor concerns about their competency self-handicap when entering evaluative situations. There is a second set of distal factors that promote self-handicapping as the logical response. Past research has shown that people differ in their naive theories about the causes of ability. Specifically, Carol Dweck and her colleagues (Dweck, 1999; Dweck & Leggett, 1988; Elliot & Dweck, 1988) have discussed these "self-theories" with regard to mastery-oriented versus helpless behaviors in achievement contexts. According to this perspective, people fall into one of two camps with regard to their beliefs about the causes of ability and competency. "Fixed entity" theorists believe that ability is a fixed trait. Whatever one's capacity, it is relatively fixed and unmodifiable. In contrast, "incremental" theorists assume that ability can be cultivated through learning, that one's capacities are malleable. It is probably more accurate to say that most people entertain both theories and differ in the extent to which they favor one over the other as the predominant explanation for ability. Dweck also contends that "fixed-entity" and "incremental" self-theories are associated with different goals in achievement contexts. The "fixed entity" theorist pursues performance goals, that is, goals of receiving positive feedback and outcomes, such as a high grade or praise from the teacher. The "incremental" theorist, in contrast, pursues learning goals, characterized by learning something new or improving upon an existing skill. We believe that the Dweck framework extends to an understanding of self-handicapping behavior. If individuals enter achievement settings with different beliefs about the 29. Defensive Strategies, Motivation, and the Self 557 nature of their abilities, then competency feedback has different implications for self-worth. Our model specifies that the combination of a "fixed entity" view of competency and the pursuit of performance goals should also promote the tendency to self-handicap when the individual anticipates negative feedback about the "fixed entity." Returning to our college freshman who is uncertain about his or her academic ability, consider this student's possible reactions to the first set of course exams. If our hypothetical student embraces an "incremental theory/learning goal" orientation, this is clearly an unsettling situation. The evaluation is important, and the outcome is uncertain. However, the meaning of that outcome, while potentially disappointing, is not damning. A negative evaluation signals that more training and preparation are required before the student can move on. But what if our hypothetical student holds a "fixed entity theory/performance goal" orientation? Failure for this student does not mean that more preparation is required. Rather, it signals that ability is lacking, and this is a devastating message, because, according to the fixed-entity view, there is not much one can do to remedy the deficit. Thus, when situations require the demonstration of a certain competence, the performance goals and focus on ability of those who hold fixed theories of competence may also motivate strategic defensive behavior, especially self-handicapping. Returning to Figure 29.2, one can see that the use of self-handicapping strategies is the product of two learning histories (Rhodewalt, 1994). First, the self-handicapper has had a set of socialization experiences that instill the belief that competency is fixed and can only be demonstrated rather than improved. Second, this person possesses ability self-conceptions that are based on a causally ambiguous and shaky history of success. Thus, self-handicappers enter many evaluative situations with the goal of demonstrating an ability of which they are uncertain. It is the confluence of these two learning histories and the more immediate performance demands that set the stage for self-handicapping. Evaluative situations that pose the threat of negative feedback about the self are to be avoided, because their implications are so damaging. In these contexts, people will embrace self-handicaps, because the trade- off of increased risk of failure for the protection of an ability self-conception seems like a bargain. Is it the case that people who display a tendency to self-handicap also hold "fixed entity" views of competency and pursue performance goals? This important question has not been extensively investigated, but existing data suggest that the answer is "yes." Rhodewalt (1994) devised several measures to probe respondents about their naive theories of competency. For example, individuals provided responses to a set of open-ended questions, such as "What does it mean to be intelligent (athletic, socially skilled)?"; "What does it mean to be unintelligent (unathletic, not socially skilled)?"; and "What could one do, if anything, to become more intelligent (athletic, socially skilled)?" A second measure required respondents to read a vignette about a bright and accomplished college student who had been accepted to medical school. They rated the person in the vignette for intelligence and then apportioned 100 points among possible causes of her academic achievement, including the factors "innate intelligence," "effort," and "privileged background." With respect to goals in achievement contexts, participants completed a measure of goals in school (Nicholls, 1984) that assessed both performance and learning goals. Participants also completed the Self-Handicapping Scale (SHS; Jones & Rhodewalt, 1982). The SHS is a face-valid, self-report measure of people's tendencies to make excuses and use self-handicaps. In support of the hypothesis, the tendency to self-handicap was significantly related to the endorsement of fixed-entity theories of ability across both measures of assessment and all ability domains (intelligence, athleticism, and social skills). Also, as hypothesized, self-handicapping was associated with the pursuit of performance goals in academic settings. More recently, Elliot and Church (2003) conducted a motivational analysis of self-handicapping and reported that self-handicapping tendencies were positively related to performance approach goals and performance avoidance goals (avoidance of failure), and negatively related to mastery goals. There are two points that merit mention at this point in our discussion. The first concerns the issue of defensive strategies and regulatory coherence. We have argued that 558 VI. SELF-REGULATORY PROCESSES defensive behavior can be understood in terms of a logical problem-solving cycle. The relation between the distal motives and self-handicapping strategies illustrates this point. Given the underlying competency beliefs and concerns held by these individuals, self-handicapping makes sense, because it defends against the threat to competency as it is defined by the individual. Second, as we have noted elsewhere (Rhodewalt &c Tragakis, 2002), although self-theories and their related goals form one branch of distal motivation, and positive but uncertain self-conceptions form a separate branch, as depicted Figure 29.2, the two factors are probably embedded in the same developmental history. They may connect at a developmental level that involves understanding of the contingencies between behavior and outcomes. Jones and Berglas (1978) argued that the self-handicapper simply does not understand the connection between past success and personal attributes. We suggest that the same sort of ambiguous understanding of ability is more compatible with a fixed-entity view than with an incremental view of competency; that is, an incremental theory implies an understanding of the contingencies among effort, practice, preparation, and performance. A fixed entity view of ability requires less attention to contextual and motivational influences on performance. Future research may reveal that the same developmental experiences that contribute to a positive but confused self-image also foster fixed entity beliefs about the characteristics of that self-image. We would be remiss if we did not mention one additional distal factor. This factor is highlighted by our example of students about to enter college. For both students, academic ability is important to their self-worth. It is only those domains of competency that are important to the individual's self-esteem that comprise part of the distal constellation of self-handicapping motives. Proximal Motives Proximal motives are engendered by features of the situation that pose a potential threat to the individual's self-image of competency. The most frequent and immediate threat is being called upon to exhibit the valued attribute or competency. It is the fear that one cannot produce evidence of a competence, skill, ability, or attribute that elicits acts of self-handicapping. This was the central focus of the Jones and Berglas (1978) formulation of self-handicapping; however, Snyder and Smith (1982) have argued more broadly that self-handicapping is a response to anticipated threats to the self. Thus, self-handicaps can be used both to hide feelings of inferiority and to protect a shaky self-concept. While some may object to this characterization of self-handicapping (Berglas, 1988), it does capture the wide array of research findings in the literature. Clearly, having a desired self-conception debunked by a poor performance is a threat to the self. Because most acts of self-handicapping are enacted before an audience, a second set of proximal motives becomes relevant. Self-handicapping could be motivated by the desire to preserve competency images in the eyes of others (i.e., self-presentation motive), or it could be in the service of protecting the self from the realization that one is not as competent as one desires to be (i.e., self-deception motive). A number of researchers have examined this issue without providing conclusive results. Berglas and Jones (1978) attempted to address this question in their initial demonstration of self-handicapping by varying whether the experimenter would know of the participant's choice to self-handicap. Whether or not the experimenter was allegedly aware of the self-handicap did not make a difference, leading Berglas and Jones to conclude that self-handicapping was for self-protection. Others (see Kolditz ÔC Arkin, 1982) have produced evidence that self-presentational concerns can increase the likelihood of self-handicapping. Rhodewalt and Fairfield (1991) found that self-handicappers who anticipated doing poorly on an IQ test stated that they were not going to try on the upcoming test (and actually withdrew effort} even when these response were ostensibly anonymous and could serve no self-presentational purpose. Certainly, both motives could be operating, and the pursuit of one does not preclude the other. Consequences of Self-Handicapping Much of our work has focused on the outcomes of self-handicapping behavior. Does it work? And if so, what are the costs to the self-handicapper? The view that self-handi- 29. Defensive Strategies, Motivation, and the Self 559 capping is an example of defensive self-regulation would suggest that, to some extent, the strategy accomplishes the goal of preserving self-perceived competency, and in the short term, it does. The right side of Figure 29.1 illustrates the hypothesized direct effects of self-handicapping. Self-handicapping should have direct effects on the quality of the performance. It should also influence attributions for that performance. And it should buffer competency images and self-worth from the implications of failure. Discounting and Augmentation of Competency Attributions There is clear and consistent evidence that self-handicaps are recruited into the explanations people offer for their successes and failures. In both laboratory and field studies of self-handicapping, participants discount attributions to ability when the failure occurs in the presence of a handicap. On some occasions, they will augment attributions to ability following success when that success occurred despite the presence of a self-handicap. For example, there have been a number of "classroom studies" of the effects of self-handicapping on attributional responses to success and failure (Feick & Rhodewalt, 1998; McCrea & Hirt, 2001; Rhodewalt & Hill, 1995). The procedure was similar in all investigations. In our work, students reported their expected class performance and were assessed for individual differences in self-handicapping (SHS) and self-esteem at the beginning of the academic term. Prior to the first exam, they reported any "handicaps" they were undergoing that might affect their performance on the upcoming exam. As expected, high SHS students claimed more handicaps than did low SHS students. When the graded exams were returned, students were asked to make attributions for their performance and to report their state self-esteem at that moment. In the Rhodewalt and Hill study (1995), ail students received exam grades that were one-third of a grade lower than the highest grade they said would dissatisfy them. In the Feick and Rhodewalt (1988) investigation, we categorized students' performances by comparing their grades on the exam with their grade expectations reported at the beginning of the term. Students were grouped into those who performed worse than they ex- pected (failure), equal to their expectations (expected success), or better than their expectations (unexpected success). In both studies (and also in McCrea & Hirt, 2001), students who received failing grades, and who also had claimed handicaps prior to the test, discounted attributions to lack of ability; that is, students who failed reported that they possessed significantly higher ability if they had previously handicapped than if they had not. In fact, in the Feick and Rhodewalt (1988) study, the ability attributions of failing self-handicappers were no different that the ability attributions of students who had performed up to their expectations—clear evidence of discounting. Students who performed better than they expected claimed augmented ability if they achieved this success in the presence of a handicap. These students reported levels of ability that were significantly higher than those of students who had performed unexpectedly well but had not handicapped. McCrea and Hirt (2001) also found evidence of augmentation among those students who had self-handicapped and subsequently performed well on the exam. Collectively, these studies provide clear support for the attributional component of the model. Competency and Self-Worth Our main argument is that people employ defensive behavior in order to protect competency images, because our senses of competency form a cornerstone of our self-worth. Evidence from laboratory as well as field studies consistently documents that failure in the presence of a self-handicap preserves the self-handicapper's feelings of competency and self-worth. For example, Rhodewalt, Morf, Hazlett, and Fairfield (1991, Study 2) led participants to believe that they had performed well on an intelligence test and then administered a second form of the same test. Half of the students received feedback that they continued to be successful on the second test, and half received feedback that they were now failing. Independent of this feedback was the presence or absence of an experimenter-imposed handicap. Those students who failed but had a handicap reported levels of ability and self-esteem equal to those who succeeded on both tests. In contrast, students who failed 560 VI. SELF-REGULATORY PROCESSES and did not have a handicap concluded that they had low ability and displayed lowered self-esteem. Naturalistic studies described earlier also document the competency- and esteem-buffering effects of self-handicapping (Feick &c Rhodewait, 1998; McCrea & Hirt, 2001; Rhodewalt & Hill, 1995). All of these investigations found that students' claimed handicaps buffered perceptions of ability and self-esteem from the effects of failure—although this, too, was more consistently true for men than for women (McCrea & Hirt, 2001; Rhodewalt Sc Hill, 1995). Most important, these studies showed that the self-esteem of self-handicappers who failed was not significantly different from that of successful students and significantly higher than that of failing non-self-handicappers. These findings return us to the question of motives. Specifically, are self-handicappers mainly concerned with self-protection or self-enhancement? Some findings suggest that high self-esteem individuals may self-handicap to seek opportunities to augment anticipated success (Rhodewalt et al., 1991; Tice, 1991). Our reading of the research suggests that most acts of self-handicapping are primarily in the service of self-concept protection. Although it is true that certain individuals, particularly high self-esteem, high self-handicappers, are quick to understand and accept augmented ability attributions, self-enhancement is unlikely to be the primary reason for their self-handicapping behavior. These individuals self-handicap only when they are uncertain about their ability. If the goal of self-handicapping for high self-esteem individuals were self-enhancement, then one would observe self-handicapping among individuals who are certain of their ability. There is no evidence to support this argument. Self Handicapping and Performance The question of whether self-handicapping affects performance is complicated by the wide range of ways in which people can self-handicap. It appears obvious that behavioral handicaps such as drinking alcohol or failing to prepare should harm performance more than should claimed handicaps, such as reports of illness or effort withdrawal. The data are not so clear in this regard. For ex- ample, in one study in our laboratory, we (Rhodewalt & Fairfield, 1991) asked students to state privately how hard they were going to try on an upcoming test of intelligence (with lack of effort being a claimed self-handicap). Unknown to the students, we had manipulated the difficulty of a set of practice items, so that half of the students expected to do well and half expected to do poorly. Students who were suspicious that they would not do well on the IQ' test claimed prior to taking it that they did not intended to put forth as much effort as did students who expected to do well. All students were then administered the same test. What is striking about this experiment is that students who made the claim of low intended effort actually performed significantly worse than did students who did not make the claim. Given that the test was the same for everyone, we assume that stating that they were not going to try led them to try less hard, which accounted for their poorer performance. In the McCrea and Hirt (2001) "classroom study," prior to the exam, high self-handicapping men reported putting less effort and time into preparation than did all other groups of students. These students who reported poor preparation performed poorly on the test, averaging 71% compared to 79% averaged by their classmates. Nonetheless, as already reported, these self-handicapping students made nonability attributions for their poor performance and maintained high estimates of ability and self-esteem. Clearly, the relation between the mode of self-handicap and performance is complex and warrants additional research. A second way to address the self-handicapping and performance question is to examine the long-term effects of self-handicapping. To the extent that an individual chronically self-handicaps, one would expect that there would be deleterious effects on achievement and accomplishment. We have evidence suggesting that this is true. We created an index of over- and underachieve-ment by using students' Scholastic Aptitude Test (SAT) and American College Test (ACT) scores as a measure of aptitude, and their GPAs as a measure of achievement (Rhodewalt &C Saltzman, reported in Rhodewalt, 1990). In samples from two different universities, the over- and under- 29. Defensive Strategies, Motivation, and the Self 561 achievement index correlated negatively with scores on the SHS; that is, the more a student was a chronic self-handicapper, as evidenced by his or her SHS score, the less likely his or her grades were as high as what would be expected from his or her SAT/ACT scores. Zuckerman, Kieffer, and Knee (1998) provided a follow-up examination of the relation between chronic self-handicapping and academic performance. In two studies, these researchers found that individual differences in self-handicapping, as measured by the SHS, were related to lower academic performance, as indexed by GPA. Moreover, the negative relation between the SHS and GPA was independent of verbal and quantitative SAT, and level of self-esteem. Zuckerman et al. also measured study habits and found that poor exam preparation seemed to drive the relationship between individual differences in the tendency to use self-handicaps and poor performance. Recursive Effects of Self-Handicapping Self-handicapping behavior also illustrates the cyclical aspect of our competency/defense self-regulation model. As depicted in Figure 29.2, short-term "positive" outcomes, such as preserved competency images and protected self-esteem, should reinforce the use of self-handicapping in the future. However, there are longer term consequences as well. The strategy works in the short-term, because it creates ambiguity about the causes of poor performance. If, as we have argued, uncertainty about competency is a distal motive, this uncertainty should be perpetuated, if not exacerbated, by a strategy that preserves or creates additional uncertainty. In addition, to the extent that self-handicapping actually undermines performance, self-handicappers should experience a higher base rate of competency-threatening outcomes. This last influence is compounded by the audience's willingness to give more harsh feedback to self-handicappers than to non-self-handicappers (Rhodewalt, Sanbonmatsu, Tschanz, Feick, & Waller, 1995). In brief, the self-handicapping cycle is self-perpetuating, because it maintains the positive but insecure competency images that motivated the defensive strategy in the first place. Other Defensive Styles Although most of our work on the competency/defense self-regulation model has focused on the antecedents and consequences of self-handicapping behavior, we believe our analysis may be expanded to other "defensive styles" as well. We illustrate this claim with the examples of defensive pessimism (Norem & Cantor, 1986) and rejection sensitivity (Downey &c Feldman, 1996). According to Norem and Cantor (1986) certain people employ defensive pessimism as a motivational tool in competency-relevant situations. In their view, defensive pessimists have a demonstrated history of achievement in competency-relevant domains, yet harbor expectations of failure in the future. For these individuals, the demonstration of competency is very important, and much anxiety and negative affect is associated with such evaluative events. However, rather than being debilitated by anxiety, these individuals draw on it as a source of strength to prepare for the anticipated evaluation. Defensive pessimists set low expectations for themselves and play through negative (and oftentimes low base rate) possible outcomes for the future event. Defensive pessimists are often contrasted with optimists, who set high expectations for themselves and pursue promotion-focused strategies for achievement goal attainment. In terms of actual competency, however, the two groups do not differ in performance or achievement. The notion that defensive pessimism is strategic is evidenced by the fact that when blocked from being pessimistic by being provided with encouragement, these individuals perform poorly (Norem Sc Cantor, 1986). Defensive pessimism is cast as a motivational strategy designed to maximize performance in achievement settings. In Cantor's (1990) terms, defensive pessimism is an example of social intelligence, in that it is a functional and adaptive strategy employed by some individuals in achievement contexts. Although we have no empirical documentation, we suggest that defensive pessimists bring to achievement contexts concerns about their competencies (distal motives) that prime them to view situational demands to demonstrate competency as potentially threatening to the self. In this regard, we view defensive pessimists as being quite similar to self- 562 VI. SELF-REGULATORY PROCESSES handicappers in their motivation to manage others' impressions of their abilities. Dwelling on the possibility of failure and expressing these self-doubts to others, defensive pessimists reduce others' expectations of them. In addition, by suggesting that failure, if it occurs, was the result of elevated emotional distress and not because of poor ability, they have established a self-protective attribution for the anticipated but unwanted outcome (cf. Smith, Snyder, & Handlesman, 1982). Consistent with this notion, Elliot and Church (2003) reported a significant positive correlation between defensive pessimism and self-handicapping. The distal motive of seeking to preserve a competent and able self-view is enabled by the strategy of defensive pessimism. Relationship Defenses There has been considerable recent interest in the extent to which one's significant relationships form a part of the self (Andersen Sc Chen, 2002). Importantly, a person's self-views and feelings when in particular significant relationships can be activated by current interaction partners (Hinkley & Andersen, 1996). Given the importance of significant interpersonal relationships to the self, it follows that responses from relationship partners can threaten the self. The threat of rejection, abandonment, exclusion, or ridicule not only threatens the self but also calls into question the person's competency and value as a relationship partner. Threats to one's sense of interpersonal competency should initiate defensive behaviors. Are there then relationship-specific individual differences in the way that people respond to potential interpersonal difficulties and the threats to the self that they imply? According to Downey and Feldman (1996), rejection-sensitive people are chronically anxious and expect to be rejected by their significant others. High rejection-sensitive people are more likely to respond to ambiguous behaviors by another as signaling rejection, and to perceive hurtful intentions from their partner, whereas low rejection sensitive people do not. Downey and Feldman also found that rejection-sensitive people have partners who are more dissatisfied with the relationship. Moreover, Downey, Freitas, Michaelis, and Khouri (1998) observed that rejection-sensitive women were likely to turn their expectations into reality, such that their relationships were more likely to dissolve than relationships among women who were low in rejection sensitivity. Importantly, rejection-sensitive women's conflict-engendering interpersonal style was found to be a precipitating cause of the breakups. On the surface, rejection sensitivity appears to be self-defeating, in that it precipitates the unwanted outcome, rejection and relationship dissolution, that was feared in the first place. However, by conceiving of rejection sensitivity within the competency/defense self-regulation framework, such responses make sense. Rejection-sensitive people bring to relationships concerns about their attractiveness as a relationship partner and their abilities to maintain the relationship and avoid rejection. These distal concerns and motives make rejection-sensitive people vigilant for signs that their partners are losing interest or are discovering their weaknesses and negative characteristics. Perceived evidence of impending rejection serves as the proximal motivation to initiate the set of defensive interpersonal strategies characteristic of the style. Although the defensive strategies spawn rejection, they also allow individuals to preserve a sense of relationship competency and to guard their fragile self-esteem. After all, it was the partner who could not accept the truth about his or her flaws and shortcomings, and who lacked commitment to stay with the relationship. It is also likely that rejection sensitivity-related interpersonal strategies have the self-perpetuating effect of enhancing the person's sense of predictability in the social environment and fueling fears of rejection in future relationships. Another form of rejection sensitivity is suggested by Sandra Murray and her colleagues (Murray, Rose, Bellavia, Holmes, & Kusche, 2002), one that clearly links such strategic behavior to the self. Murray et al. reported that self-esteem moderates the reactions to perceived rejection within close relationships. In a series of experiments, people with high and low self-esteem were made to believe that their partners complained about their faults or would dislike a "secret" aspect of their personality. After receiving this threat to their relationship value, low—but not high—self-esteem people overreacted to 29. Defensive Strategies, Motivation, and the Self 563 their partner's response by seeing themselves as lacking in worth and believing that their partners were pulling away from the relationship. In response to this threat to their relationship competencies, low self-esteem people derogated the partner's traits and reported less closeness to the partner. In contrast, threatened high self-esteem people did not derogate the partner or suspect the partner's intentions with regard to the relationship; rather, they affirmed the partner in the face of possible acceptance threats. Despite their anxieties and differences in defensive (among low self-esteem people) or reaffirming (among high self-esteem people) responses, relationships partners viewed their threatened high and low self-esteem partners equally positively. As was the case with high rejection-sensitive women, the vulnerable self-concepts and doubtful feelings of acceptance among low self-esteem people may paradoxically set up relationship failures through their capriciousness and ill-behaved responses to a partner's (largely ambiguous) behavior. Relational insecurities thus produce a set of deleterious behaviors that allow the relationship to unfold as expected, thus preserving a limited sense of relationship competency for low self-esteem individuals. No doubt there are any number of interpersonal orientations that embody interpersonal competency concerns and prescribe a set of defensive self-regulatory responses. Our intention here is not provide an exhaustive list but to suggest that the self- and competency concerns are embedded in our interpersonal relationships and, as a consequence, relationships provide threats to the self that, in turn, elicit strategic defensive reactions. CONCLUSIONS People embrace their self-perceived competencies as integral components of their self-concept and as cornerstones of their self-esteem. To the extent that people's competency images are positive and central to self-worth but also insecure, and to the extent that they believe that competence is stable and unmodi-fiable, competency/defense motivation will be chronically high. It is a unique feature of our competencies that they are frequently put to the test. It is in such circumstances that the insecure individual will be threatened and respond with defensive behaviors intended to protect the competency self-image. Competency and defensive behavior are linked through their relation to the self. In this chapter, we have proposed the competency/defense self-regulation model to give coherence and meaning to defensive behaviors and illustrated our model with research on self-handicapping behavior. It is our position that defensive behavior can best be understood when it is placed within the context of self-regulatory processes. In this view, defensive strategies are neither illogical nor mysterious; rather, they are tools wielded by individuals whose sense of competency is in question. We suspect that many paradoxical behaviors will lend themselves to analysis within the competency/defense self-regulation framework. NOTES 1. Throughout the chapter, we use the terms "self-esteem" and "self-worth" interchangeably. 2. 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In the case of abilities, there is a unidirectional drive upward, so that we want to be slightly better than others. Festinger did not specify clearly what he meant by "similarity." Early researchers (e.g., Wheeler, 1966) took it to mean similarity on the dimension of comparison. There is circularity involved in this, however, because one must have already compared with someone to know that he or she is similar. Wheeler neatly avoided this problem by giving participants information about their position in a rank order. Thus, they knew that they were more similar to some people than to others, but they did not know bow similar (in terms of scores) they were to anyone. The general result of this line of "rank-order paradigm" research was that participants compared themselves to those adjacent to them in the ranking, and much more with the person just better than themselves than with the person just worse than themselves. Thus, the research supported both the unidirectional drive upward and the similarity hypothesis. An interesting exception to the usual results occurred when no information was given about the highest score in the group. In that case, most participants compared with the highest ranking person, a case of the unidirectional drive upward completely overwhelming the desire for a similar comparison other. Goethals and Darley (1977) proposed the related attributes hypothesis (see Wheeler & Zuckerman, 1977), in which similarity was based upon characteristics related to and 566 30. Social Comparison and S elf-Evaluation 567 predictive of the trait to be evaluated. If one swims better than a man of his age, physical condition, and swimming experience, then he is a good swimmer (better than he ought to be based on related attributes). It is easy to imagine a situation in which similarity on the attribute to be evaluated is distinct from similarity on related attributes. For example, a comparison target might have a score similar to that of another on the ability (attribute to be evaluated), and a different comparison target might have the same amount of practice (the related attribute) on the ability. When that occurs, both types of similarity influence choice of a comparison other (Wheeler, Koestner, & Driver, 1982). Research beginning in the 1980s showed that people who feel the need for self-enhancement make comparisons resulting in affective and motivational outcomes that are different from those of people motivated by self-evaluation or the need for accurate evaluations of one's abilities. For example, a breast cancer patient might make predominantly downward comparisons in order to make herself feel better about her own state. See Wills (1981) and Wood, Taylor, and Lichtman (1985) for theory and research on self-enhancement. However, in everyday life, the line between self-evaluation and self-enhancement probably is fuzzy, because people should want both to acquire information about their standing (so they can make informed decisions about what things they can do) and to feel good about themselves (or at least not feel poorly). The question we consider in this chapter is how social comparisons contribute to an individual's personal sense of competence. For a greater breadth and depth of information about social comparison processes, see Suis and Wheeler (2000). It is strange that social comparison theory has not been better integrated into the achievement motivation literature. Much of Festinger's work prior to social comparison was on level of aspiration (LOA), and that work was integral to the achievement motivation literature and clearly influenced social comparison theory. His first publication, based on undergraduate research done at City College of New York, dealt with social factors affecting LOA (Hertzman & Festinger, 1940), as did his Master's thesis done under Kurt Lewin (Festinger, 1942a, 1942b). The research showed that participants raised their LOA if they scored below other group members (particularly if they were high school students and therefore of lower status than the college participants), and lowered their LOA if they scored above others (particularly if these others were graduate students and therefore of higher status than the participants). Here, we see clear evidence for what was later to be called the related attributes hypothesis (Goethals & Darley, 1977): The college student participants felt that they ought to score higher than high school students and lower than graduate students because of the related attributes of age and education. Tamara Dembo (1931) introduced the concept of LOA in her 1930 PhD thesis in Berlin, and the first experiment was published that same year (Hoppe, 1930), both influenced by Lewin. Throughout the 1930s and early 1940s, LOA was a thriving area for research and theory, including work by researchers such as Hilgard, R.R. Sears, P. Sears, and Rotter. Festinger went to Iowa to study with Lewin because he wanted to work on tension systems, boundaries, satiation, force fields, and related issues, but found that Lewin was by then interested more in practical social problems. The classic theoretical and review chapter, "Level of Aspiration" (Lewin, Dembo, Festinger, & Sears, 1944), which marks the end of this period of research and theory, was developed by Dembo, P. Sears, and Festinger from Lewin's conceptual system (see Patnoe, 1988). They followed the "resultant valence theory," presented by Escalona (1940) and elaborated by Festinger (1942b). A fundamental puzzle with regard to LOA (and achievement motivation in general) is the apparent inconsistency between setting up higher and higher goals, and the notion that life appears to be governed by the tendency to avoid unnecessary effort. Looking at the psychological situation that individuals face as they make up their minds about the next goal can solve this problem. Experimental results have shown that with increasing difficulty level, the valence of success increases, and the valence of failure decreases. Therefore, given two levels of difficulty, the valence will always be greater at the higher level of difficulty (Valence = Valence of Success - Valence of Failure). The situation is 568 VI. SELF-REGULATORY PROCESSES complicated by the necessity to take into account both the probability as well as the valence of future events. If success at the highest level of difficulty has very positive valence, but the probability of achieving success is zero, then there will be little resultant motivation to attempt that level of difficulty. The "weighted" valence of success is the product of the valence and of the probability of success. Motivation will tend to be highest at that level of difficulty at which there is a subjective 50-50 probability of success and failure. All decisions about valence and the probability of success are made within existing frames or scales of reference. There are usually many coexisting frames of reference for a level of aspiration (e.g., task-referential, past-referential, and other-referential; Elliot, McGregor, & Thrash, 2002). One reference scale based, for example, upon the individual's past achievement might lead to one LOA, while another reference scale, based upon group standards, might lead to a different LOA. These two reference scales are combined according to the relative weight or "potency" of the two frames of reference. There are also different types of group standards. Given a college standard of a "Gentleman's C," the resultant valence is maximum at "C" and falls off rapidly in both directions. In other cases, the group standard might set a minimum level, and anything above that would have much success valence and little failure valence. Standards set from outside do not have to be related to another group but may come from a significant individual (friend, teacher, etc.) or from requirements of law or society. Lewin et al. (1944) also stressed that there are great differences between people in their relative tendencies to seek success and to avoid failure, so that the valence of success and failure will certainly not be the same for all people in the same situation (Elliot & Church, 1997). The Lewin et al. (1944) paper had a major impact on the development of the achievement motivation literature. It also presaged much of social comparison theory. The unidirectional drive upward of social comparison theory comes directly from the resultant valence theory of Lewin et al., which also provides the basis for (McClelland, Atkinson, Clark, &c Lowell (1953) influential achievement motivation framework. Our task in the remainder of this chapter is to discuss how social comparison may influence achievement motivation and perceptions of competence. PROXIES AND PERPORMANCE PREDICTION There are many tasks that one might not want to attempt without prior knowledge that one has a very good chance of succeeding. Examples include swimming across a bay, pursuing graduate study, rebuilding a car engine, and getting married. Wheeler, Martin, and Suis (1997) proposed a proxy model of social comparison to deal with the issue of predicting one's own competence (see also Martin, 2000). How would a woman know whether she might succeed in graduate school? She might extrapolate from her undergraduate performance. To the extent that she did well as an undergraduate, she should do well as a graduate student. However, she knows that all graduate students have done well as undergraduates, and that not all of them succeed as graduate students. She needs something more. She might well talk to another woman who attended her undergraduate school and subsequently succeeded brilliantly in graduate school. If she found that this proxy performed the same as she did as an undergraduate and that graduate school had not been a terrible challenge, she would feel more confident that she was competent enough to work toward her PhD; that is, on Task 1 (undergraduate education), she was similar to the proxy, so she should be similar to the proxy on Task 2 (graduate school). There is one complication to this, however. It is possible that the proxy exerted very little effort on Task 1. Perhaps she was a party girl, the social chairperson of her sorority, a member of the golf team, and a frequent visitor to tropical islands and European capitols. Our comparer, on the other hand, had to work hard for similar grades. The comparer and the proxy are quite different, then, on effort, a related attribute (Goethals &c Darley, 1977), and it is unlikely that the proxy's performance on Task 1 was indicative of her maximal effort or true competence. Therefore, in this case, the comparer should not expect similar Task 2 performance. 30. Social Comparison and Self-Evaluation 569 Related attributes are important only when the proxy's Task 1 performance may not indicate maximal effort. If we know that the proxy exerted maximal effort, then the prediction from Task 1 performance to Task 2 performance is straightforward. There is empirical support for the basic premises of the proxy model, using both physical strength and intellectual problem-solving tasks (Martin, Suis, & Wheeler, 2002). For example, when predicting performance on a grip strength task, participants paid attention to the related attribute, hand size, but only when the proxy's performance on Task 1 may not have been maximal. Participants' predictions factored in relative hand size in deciding whether they would perform better, worse, or the same as the proxy had. When the proxy's performance on Task 1 was clearly the best that the proxy could do, participants ignored hand size in predicting their own performance on the grip strength task. In this case, participants predicted that they would perform as well as the proxy had. The Wheeler et al. (1997) theoretical paper argued that one of the most important questions that might be answered through social comparison is "Can I do X?" That question may be answered through comparison with a similar proxy who has already attempted X. If the similar proxy can do it, so, probably, can you. There is not a direct connection to motivation beyond the fact that knowing you can do something may indeed motivate you to do it. Basically, however, the proxy model assumes prior motivation. In the next section, we examine a similar line of research (Lockwood & Kunda [1997] on superstars) in which self-views and motivation rather than prediction are the major dependent variables. The superstar and proxy arguments are similar in one important way. In both cases, the comparer is comparing him- or herself to a target that has already had a chance to demonstrate competence. The comparer is not in direct competition with the target, as in many social comparison situations, because the comparer is about to undertake a task that the target has already performed and from which he or she has now moved away. Rather than competing with the target, the comparer is using the target as a source of information and/or inspiration. SUPERSTARS AND SUPERFLOPS In the original superstar research (Lock-wood &c Kunda, 1997), first-year and fourth-year accounting students were exposed to an article about an outstanding graduating student in accounting or to a no-target control. Participants then rated themselves on adjectives relevant to general career success. First-year students rated themselves considerably higher after exposure to the superstar, whereas fourth-year students rated themselves insignificantly lower. The superstar's success was attainable for the first-year students but not for the fourth-year students. First-year students rated the target as a more relevant comparison than did fourth-year students, and in open-ended explanations of their relevance ratings, often mentioned that the superstar inspired them, and that they were similar to the superstar on dimensions other than intended occupation. In a follow-up study, first-year students with a malleable view of intelligence gave higher self-ratings after exposure to a fourth-year superstar, but those with a fixed view of intelligence did not, again supporting the view that attainability is crucial. The dependent variable in this research was self-ratings on adjectives generally related to career success (e.g., bright, competent, ambitious, intelligent), essentially a measure of self-esteem. In their next research, Lockwood and Kunda (1999) also included measures of motivation. One measure was objective estimates of how much time participants would devote to six activities that were related to areas in which the target excelled (e.g., "Next week I plan to spend______ hours studying," "This year I plan to spend about _____ hours on volunteer work or charity-related activities." In the second measure, participants were asked to estimate the likelihood that they would engage in eight activities (e.g., making a special effort to study hard for exams, volunteering to do more community work). Each item on the two scales was standardized, and all items were combined to form a single index of motivation. The purpose of the Lockwood and Kunda (1999) research was to demonstrate that increasing the salience of people's best selves would undermine the inspiration created by a superstar. The researchers increased the sa- 570 VI. SELF-REGULATORY PROCESSES lience of participants' best selves (Study 1) by asking them, before exposure to the superstar, to describe a peak academic experience that had made them feel especially proud, or (Study 2) by asking them to describe the academic and career achievement they hoped to accomplish over the next 10 years. Both of these "success primes" were expected to ground participants in reality, thus reducing the inspirational impact of the superstar, both as measured by adjective self-ratings and by the motivation scale. However, this prediction was correct only for adjective self-ratings. For the motivation index, the only significant effect was a reduction in motivation in Study 1 by the addition of the superstar model in the success prime conditions. Neither the superstar nor the success prime in either study increased motivation. So far, we have examined only superstars, or highly successful role models. It could be, however, that failing models, or "super-flops" (our term) would increase motivation to avoid sharing their fate. Lockwood (2002) exposed first-year participants to a poorly coping, recent university graduate who could get a job only in a fast-food outlet. Participants in a simulation condition were asked to describe a realistic scenario about how they might become like the superflop, whereas students in a no-simulation condition described their typical daily activities. There was also a no-target control condition. Only when asked to simulate did the participants show any effect of being exposed to a superflop. It is important to note that when the comparison target is a superstar, participants readily assimilate to the target, but when the target is a superflop, participants require the stronger manipulation of being asked to describe how it could happen to them. Otherwise, they just shrug it off. In a follow-up study in which all participants were asked to simulate, adjective self-ratings were lower in the superflop condition than in a control condition; in other words, participants assimilated their self-views to the superflop. A measure of avoidance goals was higher in the superflop condition, but a measure of approach goals was not lower in the superflop condition. A new motivation scale was added for this study (e.g., "I plan to spend more time at the li- brary," "I plan to stop myself from procrastinating"). This scale showed motivation to be highest in the superflop condition. Moreover, motivation was correlated with avoidance goals but not with approach goals. In summary, a superflop comparison target decreased adjective self-ratings but increased motivational plans and avoidance goals. Having seen that both superstars and superflops can have motivational effects, a reasonable question to ask is whether situationally induced approach and avoidance goals will determine whether superstars or superflops have the greater influence on motivation. The prediction is that superstars will be more effective when approach goals are induced, whereas superflops will be more effective at increasing motivation when avoidance goals are induced. Lockwood, Jordan, and Kunda (2002) investigated this question. In two studies, approach and avoidance goals were primed in different ways. Participants then read about a recent graduate of their own academic program who was either a superstar or superflop. There was also a no-target control group. The dependent variable was the motivation scale described earlier. In both studies, participants were more motivated by a comparison target consistent with their primed motivation: approach-primed participants responded with greater motivation to a superstar, and avoidance-primed participants responded with greater motivation to a superflop. In Study 2 only, a target incongruent with the primed motivation actually decreased motivation (e.g., a superflop target with approach-primed participants). In a third study, participants completed new approach-avoidance scales containing items such as "I frequently imagine how I will achieve my hopes and aspirations," and "I frequently think about how I can prevent failures in my life," and then generated an example of a person whose success or failure had motivated them in the past. Participants with relatively higher approach scores were more likely to recall positive role models. Lockwood and Kunda's research shows that exposure to a superstar can increase self-esteem and motivation, if the star is not a competitor. The achievements of the role model should appear attainable, however. Furthermore, learning about superflops does 30. Social Comparison and Self-Evaluation 571 not undermine personal self-esteem, unless people are encouraged to think about how it could happen to them. As others have suggested, comparison direction is not intrinsically tied to a particular affective outcome (Buunk, Collins, Taylor, Van Yperen, & Dakoff, 1990). Although there are conditions in which a comparison might be demoralizing, people have considerable flexibility under most circumstances to protect themselves from the undesirable implications of comparisons and perhaps gain a greater sense of competence or inspiration, even when the comparison is with someone who is exceptional. Exposure to people who fail might undermine self-concept (at least momentarily), but simultaneously strengthen an individual's resolve to avoid the state of the superflop. UPWARD COMPARISON AND HIGHER GRADES Researchers in educational environments have used different methods but further substantiate the importance of role models and comparisons as sources of motivation and information concerning perceived competence. Blanton, Buunk, Gibbons, and Kuyper (1999) conducted a longitudinal investigation of the effects of comparison on academic performance among ninth-grade students in the Netherlands. In each of seven different courses, participants nominated the student with whom they typically compared their exam grades. The grade of that nominated person was used to determine whether the comparison was an upward or a downward comparison, and how similar it was. That was in turn related to the participant's subsequent performance in the course. The average comparison target was slightly upward, as predicted by Festinger (1954a) and as demonstrated by Wheeler (1966) and many subsequent researchers. The most important result, however, was that, controlling for prior grades, upward comparison predicted higher grades both cross-sectionally and longitudinally. Huguet, Dumas, Monteil, and Genestoux (2001) replicated this research with ninth-grade students in French public schools, and several potential psychological moderators were also measured: (1) importance of the academic domain; (2) closeness to the target, in terms of frequency of talking; (3) identification with the target, in terms of believing that grades will become more similar to those of the target; and (4) perceptions of academic control, in terms of believing that grades can be increased by increasing effort. Consistent with Blanton et al. (1999), upward comparison predicted higher grades. Identification was increased by upward comparison, closeness, and perception of control. Unfortunately, none of the moderators interacted with comparison choice in predicting grades. The authors expected perceptions of control to moderate the effect of comparison choice on grades (e.g., Major, Testa, & Blysma, 1991). Upward comparison should not be motivating, unless there is a perception of control over the outcome. Similarly, the authors expected identification to moderate the effect of comparison choice on grades (e.g., Berger, 1977; Buunk ÔC Ybema, 1997). Upward comparison should be motivating only to the extent that a person believes he or she will become more like the comparison target. What we are really left with, then, in the absence of interactions with these moderators, is the fact that students who report upward comparisons get better grades. We do not know why. It could easily be that a third variable, perhaps need for achievement, influences both comparison and grades independently. Or it could be, as the authors of these papers argue, that the actual upward comparison improves grades by giving information about how to improve, or by increasing motivation to improve. The lack of a moderation effect is not necessarily a problem for this explanation, because students may make upward comparisons only if they think they have academic control and/or identify with the comparison target. In both the Blanton et al. (1999) and the Huguet et al. (2001) papers, another social comparison variable in addition to comparison direction was featured. It was "comparative evaluation" and refers to the evaluation of one's ability relative to others. It was measured by asking participants to rate how good they were "compared to most of your classmates" in each of the academic domains on a scale ranging from "much worse" to "much better." The expectation was that people with a high comparative 572 VI. SELF-REGULATORY PROCESSES evaluation have a high sense of self-efficacy and performance expectation, which should lead to higher performance. Thus, the prediction of both Bianton et al. (1999) and Huguet et al. (2001) was that both upward comparison and high comparative evaluation would independently lead to better performance. There is a potential problem here, however, because upward comparison should lead logically to lower comparative evaluation. If individuals are comparing with people better than themselves, they should be less likely to claim that they are better than their peers. We return to this later. Bianton et al. (1999) and Huguet et al. (2001) did indeed find that high comparative evaluation predicted high performance, independent of comparison choice and with prior grades controlled. They also found that comparative evaluation was not influenced by comparison choice but was influenced by participants' own grades; that is, comparing upward did not lower comparative evaluation, but having higher grades raised comparative evaluation. Again, however, comparative evaluation did not interact consistently with the moderator variables in Huguet et al. (2001), and we are left with the somewhat unsatisfactory conclusion that higher comparative evaluation increases performance regardless of moderators such as perceived academic control. Once again, however, it may be that higher comparative evaluation is based on a perception of academic control; thus, moderation would not be exhibited. One possible psychological inconsistency found in both studies was that students compared upward (mentioning a student who had slightly better grades) but maintained that they were just as good as other people (on the comparative evaluation measure). This inconsistency may be more apparent than real, however. Comparing oneself with an individual who has slightly better grades does not preclude thinking that one is just as good as most of one's classmates; in fact, if the student identifies with a slightly superior peer, this may lead to the inference that one is better off than most students. Collins (2000) reviewed a considerable amount of research showing that people intentionally compare themselves with superior targets (e.g., Suis & Tesch, 1978; Wheeler, 1966), and that such comparisons produce more favorable self-estimates (e.g., Pelham & Wachsmuth, 1995). Because people want and believe that they possess positive attributes, they perceive similarity with upward targets and conclude they are "almost as good as the very good ones" (Wheeler, 1966, p. 30). A similar kind of assimilation was also found in Lockwood and Kunda's research, and the expectation that one will perform like the proxy also is suggestive of assimilation (Wheeler et al., 1997). SMALL FISH AND BIG PONDS The focus of the contemporary social comparison literature has been on how people learn about their capabilities and maintain or enhance feelings of self-esteem and self-competence through the strategic selection and construal of upward and downward comparison targets. The general consensus of researchers is that people have the flexibility to select consciously or to construct comparison targets, so as to maximize various goals. But there are situations in which social comparisons are imposed and lasting negative or positive effects on self-concept result (Diener &c Fujita, 1977; Marsh, Kong, & Hau, 2000). Research on the "small fish in a big pond effect" (SFBPE) illustrates this point. The SFBPE refers to a phenomenon in which a person acquires a negative self-concept as a function of being among high-ability peers—a result that appears to be the opposite of what Lockwood and Kunda (1997) found after exposure to superstars and the results of Bianton et al. (1999) and Huguet et al. (2001). Earlier, we emphasized the ways that self-evaluations can be displaced toward the comparison target (i.e., assimilation). In the SFBPE, we see that evaluations also can be displaced away from the target (i.e., a contrast). After we review SFBPE research and its implications for perceived competence, we attempt to identify why the SFBPE situation produces lower perceived competence, whereas the Lockwood-Kunda situation produces the opposite outcome. Identifying the variables responsible for inspiration or deflation of expectations is important for not only understanding sources of perceived competence but also evaluating educational practices. 30. Social Comparison and Self-Evaluation 573 The SFBPE In a seminal study of the career aspirations of college men, Davis (1966) was the first to refer to the so-called "frog pond" phenomenon. He wanted to understand why the academic quality of a college apparently had little effect on career aspirations. He proposed that attending a high-ability college ("a big pond") would result in a poorer grade point average (GPA), independent of individual academic ability, because academic standards should be more stringent in elite institutions than in a less selective institution (i.e., "a small pond"). Lower GPAs would lead to students' lower self-evaluations of academic competence and, in turn, less ambitious career aspirations. Based on analysis of survey data, Davis concluded, "The aphorism, 'It is better to be a big frog in a small pond than a small frog in a big pond' is not perfect advice, but it is not trivial" (p. 31). Marsh and his colleagues have produced some of the strongest evidence for the SFBPE from studies of grade school and high school students. The basic idea is that schools place great emphasis on social comparison and achievement levels of classmates. Schools also differ in average ability level, so that each school sets a particular frame of reference for academic achievement. This means that equally able students who attend schools in which school-average achievement differs will use correspondingly different frames of reference in evaluating their academic accomplishments, and this process will affect academic self-concept and subsequent academic outcomes. A consistent finding from several studies is an SFBPE in which equally able students have lower academic self-concepts when the average achievement level is higher than those in schools where the average achievement level is lower. In a representative study, Marsh and Parker (1984) surveyed grade school classes from high and low socioeconomic status neighborhoods in the same geographical area. There were substantial differences in reading achievement and IQ scores between the two kinds of neighborhoods. When individual ability level was controlled, the correlation between school-average ability and academic self-concept was negative; that is, being enrolled in a high average-ability school (vs. a low average-ability school) was associated with lower academic self-concept. Marsh (1987) also reanalyzed data from the longitudinal Youth in Transition Study, which included standardized tests of academic aptitude, GPA, socioeconomic status, and academic self-concept (e.g., How intelligent do you think you are, compared with others your age?") in a large sample of high school students. Both at Time 1 and Time 2 (a year later), the association between school-average ability and academic self-concept was negative (-.23), consistent with the negative SFBPE. School-average ability also was negatively associated with GPA, which was positively associated with academic self-concept. The SFBPE seems to result from two separate processes: Any given student in a low-ability school generally finds him- or herself with less able students, which leads to higher academic self-concept. Students in low-ability schools also should earn higher grades than equally able students in high-ability schools, and this, too, contributes to higher academic self-concepts. Path analysis also used Time 1 measures to predict Time 2 measures. Attending a high-ability school produced lower academic self-concept at Time 1, which produced poorer grades at Time 2. It also is worth noting that global self-esteem was measured in this sample, but there was no SFBPE for self-esteem or general self-concept. The effect was specific to academic sel f-concept. In a subsequent study, Marsh (1991) assessed whether the negative effects of school-average ability extended to other academic outcomes. This is important, because educators and parents assume that selective schools (i.e., high average ability) provide academic benefits to their students; the SFBPE, however, suggests that this assumption is incorrect. Marsh measured academic self-concept, selection of advanced course work, and educational and occupational aspirations while the student attended high school and college, and occupational aspirations 2 years after high school graduation. Attending higher ability high schools appeared to have negative effects on almost all outcomes. Furthermore, these effects were mediated by the negative SFBPE on academic self-concept. 574 VI. SELF-REGULATORY PROCESSES Apparently, if students compare their accomplishments with those of their classmates in academically selective schools, then their academic self-concept declines. As mentioned earlier, the SFBPE is based on a contrast effect. Of course, for students enrolled in an unselective or low average-ability school, the state of affairs is the opposite of that for students in an unselective school: The frame of reference will be lower (than in a high-ability school), so academic self-concept of students actually will be enhanced in an unselective school environment ("the big fish in the small pond effect"}. Until recently, SFBPE research focused almost entirely on negative contrast effects; however, Marsh et al. (2000) noted that the effect is actually the net effect of two opposing forces: the negative contrast effects, described earlier, and positive reflected glory, or assimilation effects. The latter refers to a well-documented effect in which self-concept is enhanced by people associating with successful others (Cialdini et al., 1976; Tesser, 1988) or joining valued groups. For example, in the school context, students might gain more positive academic self-concepts merely by being enrolled in a highly selective program. Essentially, the student thinks, "If I am a student here I must be smart." If the positive assimilation effect conferred by reflected glory is as strong as the negative contrast effect, then there should be no net effect of school context or SFBPE. However, the consistency of the SFBPE found in prior research suggests that the contrast effect tends to be stronger than the assimilation effect. Marsh et al. (2000) studied both the SFBPE and reflected glory in a large cohort of high schools in Hong Kong. Two characteristics of this school system are notable: It is one of the most highly achievement-segregated systems in the world—a feature that should heighten the contrast effect that forms the basis of the SFBPE. However, Hong Kong is a collectivistic society; one's reputation is of special concern in Chinese culture, and admission to a prestigious high school should represent a gain in status for the student and his or her family, resulting in a reflected glory effect, or assimilation. This naturalistic experiment permitted the researchers to evaluate whether the highly achievement-segregated system would in- crease the negative contrast, or whether the cultural differences would reduce the contrast and magnify the reflected glory/assimilation effects. Marsh et al. (2000) analyzed pretest achievement test scores (prior to start of high school), achievement scores during secondary school, and academic self-concept in a sample of nearly 8,000 secondary school students in Hong Kong. In addition, each student completed some questionnaire items to gauge perception of their school's status to test the effects of reflected glory. Consistent with previous research, students who attended schools with higher school-average achievement scores had lower academic self-concepts than predicted on the basis of their high levels of pretest achievement, and lower self-concepts than students with similar abilities in schools with lower school-average achievement scores. Hence, the SFBPE was replicated. However, when perceived school status was included in the statistical model, there was a positive, albeit weaker, effect of school status on academic self-concept, indicative of a reflected glory/assimilation effect: Students who rated their school higher in status tended to have higher academic self-concept. Marsh et al. (2000) concluded: The results imply that attending a school where school-average is high—particularly in Hong Kong—simultaneously results in a more demanding basis of comparison for students within the school to compare their accomplishments (the basis of the negative social comparison effect) and a source of pride for students within the school (the basis of the positive reflected glory effects), (p. 347) The implication is that the negative contrast effect (SFBPE) would be even stronger if students' affiliation with the school did not serve as a source of pride. EXPLAINING THE DISCREPANCY We have seen from Lockwood and Kunda's (1997) research that superstars can be inspiring and buoy estimates of self-competence. Furthermore, naturalistic studies (Blanton et al., 1999; Huguet et al., 2001) demonstrate that upward comparison 30. Social Comparison and Self-Evaluation 575 choices appear to enhance academic performance and motivation. However, SFBPE research indicates that being in a selective school with smarter classmates, where there should be many upward comparisons, seems to have a negative effect on perceived competence. What accounts for the difference in results? Although it is not possible to identify a single cause, there are some key differences in the situations examined by these researchers. Lockwood and Kunda (1997) demonstrated that it is essential that the superstar not be at the same stage in his or her career as the participants. In contrast, the students in the SFBPE studies were exposed to the academic accomplishments of their classmates (same-age peers). Lockwood and Kunda's subjects still have time, and can hope and strive to match the superstar, but Marsh's grade school or secondary school students were already aware that they had not attained the success of their classmates. This argument does not appear to apply, however, to the studies by Blanton et al. (1999) and Huguet et al. (2001). The people with whom the ninth graders compared exam grades were same-age peers. But the results showed that upward comparisons were motivating. The important difference might be that students nominated a classmate with slightly better grades as a comparison target, and therefore attainable accomplishments, and not a superstar, whose accomplishments might be seen as unattainable. Unfortunately, a direct comparison between the SFBPE studies and Blanton et al. (1999) and Huguet et al. (2001) studies is impossible, because the latter researchers did not compare high- and low average-ability schools. What may be happening is this: Some students in both low- and high-ability schools compare themselves with those who have slightly higher grades, and as a result do better, either by being more highly motivated, or by learning how to make better grades. Thus, assimilation is occurring for some students, as shown by Blanton et al. (1999) and Huguet et al. (2001), and these slightly upward comparisons should be encouraged. Simultaneously, and in opposition to the effects of slightly upward comparisons, students in high-ability schools are doing less well than students in low-ability schools (holding aptitude constant) and thus suffer a decline in academic self-concept. Students in the high-ability schools are also involuntarily exposed to superstars, who are age peers and therefore evoke a contrasting academic self-concept. The net result of these factors is a lower academic self-concept in the high-ability schools. This outcome might be avoided if students had the flexibility and cognitive manipulation of comparison information that has been demonstrated in some laboratory and field research (Wood et al., 1985). However, these devices are probably severely limited in the school environment. Marsh et al. (2000, p. 339) noted, "The school is a total environment in that there are so many inherent constraints and a natural emphasis on social comparison of achievement levels in a school setting." Under such circumstances, in which competition for grades is an integral element, it is scarcely surprising that negative contrast tends to be the dominant element. MODELS AND MELODRAMA In this chapter, we have focused on the role of comparisons for achievement and perceptions of personal competence. Another form of social comparison—the use of social models in drama—is being used to create large-scale social change. Population Communications International is a nonprofit organization specializing in "entertainment-education" radio and television programs created to bring social change (Smith, 2002). Miguel Sabido pioneered the technique in Mexico in the 1970s in his efforts to promote adult literacy and family planning. Programs are now aimed at reducing unwanted pregnancies, reducing the spread of HIV, promoting literacy, and empowering women, and there are offices in China, Egypt, India, Kenya, Mexico, and Pakistan. The long-term radio-television programs are deliberately melodramatic, showing a clash between positive and negative values in an exaggerated way. Great care in taken with character development and the use of tension and conflict, cliffhangers, music, and various plots and subplots. The melodramas feature ordinary people who are positive role models, negative role models, or transi- 576 VI. SELF-REGULATORY PROCESSES 30. Social Comparison and Self-Evaluation 577 tional models, who start out negatively but turn into positive models over time. It is particularly important that the transitional models be very similar to the viewers, so that the viewers can see themselves changing in the same way. The melodrama should increase self-efficacy—the belief that one can change one's behavior and improve one's life. Rewards and punishments are always the natural outgrowth of the characters' behavioral choices; that is, someone with a drinking problem would be punished with a car accident but not by contracting cancer. At the end of some episodes, someone, often a celebrity, summarizes the lessons and tells viewers where they can get further information or help. These programs are often more popular than the pure entertainment programs, and evaluation data show that they have strong effects on behavior. The technique has even been used with American soap operas. Two episodes of The Bold and the Beautiful, dealing with HIV and giving a number to call for more information, increased the number of calls by 16-fold over the normal volume. The primary inspiration for the efforts of Population Communications International was Bandura's (1977) social learning theory. However, social comparison is a component of social learning theory and social cognitive theory (Bandura, 1986), and is, we believe, the most important part of the dynamics involved in the large-scale social change efforts. Seeing others obtain valued outcomes as a result of their efforts can instill a belief in observers that they, too, can obtain the valued outcomes, and thus motivates them to do so. Observers must believe that they have the efficacy to produce the modeled performances, and that similar behavior will bring them similar outcomes. People compare themselves with others to learn what they can and want to accomplish. Although such social comparisons do not constitute the sole source of information that underlies personal competence. They seem to be important. CONCLUSIONS Perceptions of competence and motivation are strongly influenced by social comparisons. However, as we have described, social comparison can produce assimilative and contrastive effects (Mussweiler, 2001; Stapel & Koomen, 2000). "We have described how superstars and persons (proxies) who have attempted tasks that we are contemplating can serve as role models, allowing us to identify or assimilate to them. Their successes can be an important source of knowledge and motivation, because they are not our direct competitors. These role models, however, do need to have some similarities (in related attributes) with us, as social comparison theory stipulates, to be meaningful and allow us to identify or assimilate with them. Comparisons also can produce contrastive outcomes. Being exposed to a superflop may lower self-evaluations if people are forced to think about how the same thing could happen to them (assimilation), but it also prompts action to help them avoid such an outcome (contrast). In the school environment, the presence of many high-ability peers can reduce academic self-concept and academic aspirations via a contrast effect. We think that the contrast effect exceeds any effect of pride of identification with being in a selective school because of the inherent competition with same-age peers. However, in our view assimilation and contrast are not all-or-none outcomes. Probably every social comparison creates both the pull of assimilation and the push of contrast. Which process predominates depends on the person's degree of freedom and flexibility to make strategic comparisons. As we learn more about how social environments expand or constrain this comparison flexibility, we may be able to provide educators, developmental-ists, and policymakers with tangible suggestions about how a person can acquire a sense of personal competence that strikes a balance between realistic appraisal and confidence. 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Wills, T. (1981). Downward comparison principles in social psychology. Psychological Bulletin, 90, 245-271. Wood, J., Taylor, S., & Lichtman, R. (1985). Social comparison in adjustment to breast cancer. Journal of Personality and Social Psychology, 49, 1169-1183. INTRINSIC MOTIVIATION CHAPTER 31 GS The Concept of Competence A Starting Place for Understanding Intrinsic Motivation and Self-Determined Extrinsic Motivation EDWARD L. DECI ARLEN C. MOLLER During the first half of the 20th century, within both the empirical and the psychoanalytic approaches to psychology, the dominant theories of motivation focused on physiological drives as the source of energy for all motivated behavior. In both traditions, it had become clear by the 1950s that drive-based approaches could not provide adequate explanations for a wide range of phenomena, including exploration, achievement, and healthy development. Accordingly, a new motivational psychology emerged that uses cognitive concepts, differentiates intrinsic and extrinsic motivation, and views the innate psychological needs for competence, autonomy, and relatedness as an essential concept for understanding human behavior in social contexts. In this chapter, we begin by briefly reviewing the early work that led to the emergence of this new approach. Then we focus on one strand of that new work by reviewing concepts and research on intrin- sic motivation, arguing that a differentiated analysis of extrinsic motivation is also essential. Finally, we discuss the importance of innate psychological needs for integrating the research on intrinsic and extrinsic motivation. WITHIN THE EMPIRICAL APPROACH The most prominent early empirical theory of motivation was Hull's (1943) drive theory, which posited that the motivation for all behaviors—learning, interacting with others, and performing in a game or concert—is reducible to a small set of drives (i.e., physiological deficit needs), namely, hunger, thirst, sex, and the avoidance of pain. According to the theory, behavior is regulated or directed by associative bonds, which involve a behavior being linked to an internal or external stimulus through either primary or secondary reinforcement. Pri- 579 580 VI. SELF-REGULATORY PROCESSES mary reinforcement occurs when a behavior results in the direct reduction of one of the four drives in the presence of a stimulus, thus linking the behavior to the stimulus. Secondary reinforcement requires an initially neutral object to be paired with the reduction of one of the four drives, so that the neutral object will take on secondary reinforcing properties. Then an associative bond between a stimulus and behavior can develop when the behavior leads to the secondary reinforcer in the presence of the stimulus. Primary and secondary reinforcement are the mechanisms that, taken together, were said to explain how drives underlie all motivated behaviors. Studies of exploration and play proved highly problematic within this tradition, because they contradicted a basic premise of drive theory. Animals were observed to engage in exploratory behaviors that induced rather than reduced drives. For example, Dashiell (1925) reported that rats who had not eaten would, under some conditions, forego food in order to explore novel territory. Furthermore, Nissen (1930) reported the even more problematic phenomenon of rats crossing an electrified grid, thus enduring pain, in order to explore novel territory on the other side of the grid. According to drive theory, rats that had not eaten should have been more enticed by the food than by the opportunity to explore, and rats should not have behaved in a manner that induced pain rather than avoided it. In short, these behaviors were in stark opposition to the predictions of the physiological drive reduction premise. Subsequent studies demonstrated that opportunities to explore (Butler, 1953; Butler &c Harlow, 1957; Montgomery, 1954; Myers & Miller, 1954; Zimbardo & Miller, 1958) and to manipulate novel objects (Harlow, 1950; Harlow, Harlow, & Meyer, 1950; Hill, 1956; Kagan & Berkun, 1954) could function as "reinforcers" to produce learning in both rats and monkeys, yet neither exploration nor manipulation reduced drives. Furthermore, there was no evidence of extinction after numerous trials, even if the exploration or manipulation had not been repaired with food or other primary rein-forcers, which would have been required for exploration and manipulation to be second- ary reinforcers. Thus, it appeared that these play-like behaviors acted as if they were primary reinforcers, even though they had no relation to drive reduction. WITHIN THE PSYCHOANALYTIC APPROACH In a manner parallel to Hullian theory, Freud's (1915/1925) theory of psychosexual development was built on the assertion that all behaviors are reducible to primary instincts, namely, sex and aggression, with sex being the more important. Operating largely unconsciously, the instincts (or drives) were theorized to become associated with objects in the environment through the process of cathexis, which in turn forms the basis for the regulation or direction of behavior. The process of neutralization is the means through which the energy of the instincts (based in the id) can be commandeered for the functions of the ego, such that behaviors that do not appear to be motivated by sex or aggression can nonetheless be considered derivative of those instincts. In this approach, as in the empirical approach, careful consideration of develop-mentally important behaviors such as exploration and play led theorists to conclude that although an analysis of the libidinai instinct during the first three stages of psychosexual development provided a possible account of the development of neuroses, it did not work well as a basis for understanding healthy development (e.g., Hartmann, 1939/1958). Within the theory, normal development would require satisfactory resolution of the oral, anal, and phallic conflicts, yet the theory is structured in a way that makes that impossible (White, 1960). Specifically, the theory involves a set of conflicts between a child's libido and demands of the socializing agent that the child be weaned, toilet trained, and unsuccessful in his (or her) oe-dipal (or electra) desires. Socializing agents will, of course, ensure that children are weaned and toilet trained, and that they not win the desired parent, so the children will invariably lose each conflict. This would imply that no child would develop in a healthy way because no conflict could be satisfactorily resolved for the child, if one in fact as- 31. The Concept of Competence 581 sumed, as the theory suggests, that the child is motivated only by the libido. ATTEMPTS TO EXPLAIN EXPLORATION AND PLAY Within both the empirical and psychoanalytic traditions, theorists attempted, with minimal change or orthodoxy, to explain the phenomenon of interested engagement with growth promoting activities. For example, empiricists proposed that exploration was motivated by the drive to avoid pain, arguing essentially that novelty produces anxiety, and exploration is the means for reducing the pain of anxiety. Fenichel (1945), a psychoanalytic theorist, similarly argued that the motivation of activities promoting normal development is based to a significant degree in managing anxiety. Yet such explanations were not satisfactory because, ' if novelty promotes anxiety, the likely response would be to flee the novelty rather than to charge headstrong into it. Furthermore, rats and humans alike frequently appeared to be experiencing excitement and joy rather than anxiety when playfully exploring new stimuli. As another approach to try to resolve the problem, writers within each tradition proposed new drives (or instincts) that would encompass playful or exploratory behaviors—for example, the exploratory drive within the empirical tradition (Montgomery, 1954) and the instinct to master within the psychoanalytic tradition (Hendrick, 1942)—yet these new "drives" did not fit the formal definition of a "drive" or "instinct" (e.g., they did not reduce a tissue deficit), so their use would have required a major change in the nature of the theories. As such, they did not represent a satisfactory solution to the problem of explaining the kinds of exploratory or playful behaviors that are necessary for normal development. It thus seemed clear that for a meaningful motivational explanation of normal development, positing some other type of primary, though non-drive-based, motivation was essential. White (1959) was the first to make a definitive proposal for this new type of innate or primary motivation that would operate in addition to that based in the basic drives. WHITE'S PROPOSAL White (1959) used the term "competence" to connote people's capacity to interact effectively with the environment—to understand the effects they can have on the environment and the effects the environment has on them. According to White, to develop is to attain greater competence. Thus, he suggested that competence is attained over time and requires directed, selective, and persistent activity. Exploration and manipulation—the behaviors that were the most problematic for Hullian drive theory—fall under the rubric of competence-related behaviors, as do a wide array of other behaviors that underlie development. White (1959) further proposed that competence must be thought of as a concept encompassing motivation, as well as capacity. He labeled this energizing force "effectance motivation" (although other writers frequently call it "competence motivation"), and he said that the subjective side of competence is the feeling of efficacy. This feeling is what provides "the reward" for behaviors that are energized by effectance motivation. Thus, competence refers to the structures through which effectance motivation operates, and the feeling of efficacy is the result. Simply stated, as people develop, they experience efficacy. White (1959) emphasized that effectance motivation is not drive-derivative, that it is in no sense a deficit motivation. Rather, it is neurogenic; its energies are inherent to the living cells of the nervous system. He further stated that competence-promoting behavior "satisfies an intrinsic need to deal with the environment" (p. 318). Thus, White was proposing a new type of motivation, a motivation that is innate but not drive-based, that is persistent and "occupies the spare waking time between episodes of homeo-static crisis" (p. 321), that is the basis of healthy development, and that supplements the basic drives, which are essential for understanding consummatory behavior. This new motivation provided a solution to the problems encountered within the Hullian and Freudian approaches. It would clearly motivate exploration, manipulation, achievement, and play, which the empirical theories were unable to explain satisfactorily. Fur- 582 VI. SELF-REGULATORY PROCESSES ther, having this new type of motivation allowed for the possibility that children could engage weaning, toilet training, and oedipal wishes as developmental challenges to be mastered, with effectance motivation providing the energy to do so. Thus, the children could "win" the conflict—or rather, their egos could win even though their ids did not—so healthy development could occur. There are four important issues concerning White's formulation that require further discussion in order to present a more complete characterization of this new type of motivation. The first concerns the concept of "need." A Need for Competence? In his discussion of competence, White (1959) did not refer to a "need" for competence {or effectance), Rather, he referred simply to effectance motivation. Only once did he use the term "need" in discussing the concept, and that was in his comment about satisfying "an intrinsic need to deal with the environment" (p. 318). It is likely that the reason White tended to avoid the term "need" is that its most common usage in motivational psychology to that point had been to refer to the physiological needs that underlie drive, and one of White's central aims was to show the importance of a motivational concept that did not have deficit needs as its basis. White was talking about a motivation (a need, if you will) that was psychological, and that was based in the central nervous system rather than in non-nervous-system tissue deficits, so using the concept of need to describe it might have seemed to him to be too confusing. Furthermore, the concept of psychological needs, as it was being used at that time in personality psychology by Murray (1938) and by McClelland, Atkinson, Clark, and Lowell (1953), treated needs as learned, and thus as individual differences. White (1959), on the other hand, was referring to what might be called a universal need. In other words, he was not concerned with individual differences in people's effectance motivation, but was instead concerned with everyone's motivation to be effective in dealing with the environment. Still, it is clear that White's (1959) conception of effectance motivation would satisfy the definition of an innate psychological need (Deci & Ryan, 2000; Elliot, McGregor, &C Thrash, 2002); that is, he described it as innate to all human beings, as directed and persistent, and as essential to health and well-being. Indeed, it was being proposed as the motivational basis of healthy development. Thus, had White referred to a need for competence, as subsequent researchers have done (e.g., Deci & Ryan, 1980), it would have been consistent with the criteria for a universal need, namely, a persistent motivator that, if satisfied, promotes health and, if thwarted, results in ill-being. In short, White was introducing the concept of a need for effectance (or competence) without using the term. Intrinsic Motivation The second issue requiring clarification concerns the concept of intrinsic motivation. White did not use the term "intrinsic motivation." As far as we know, that term had been introduced by Harlow (1950), when he discussed the fact that monkeys displayed great resistance to the extinction of manipulation behaviors, thus implying that the behaviors were intrinsically motivated and did not represent an instance of secondary reinforcement. It is nonetheless clear that the idea of effectance motivation, as described by White (1959), did indeed represent what Deci (1975) and others have referred to as intrinsic motivation. Specifically, it is not deficit-based, and it motivates activities in which the sole rewards are the spontaneous feelings of interest and enjoyment that occur when one engages in the activities. The Goal of Effectance Motivation The third issue concerns the goal of competence-promoting behaviors. White (1959) emphasized that play—for example, the behaviors of exploration and manipulation that were so problematic for drive theory— is serious business for children and, presumably, for adults as well, albeit to a lesser extent. However, he further stated that for children, play "is merely something that is interesting and fun to do" (p. 321). In other words, although children are busy building competencies, their goal is not to become more competent, it is to do what they find 31. The Concept of Competence 583 interesting and fun. Competence is essentially a by-product in terms of people's intentions; it develops as they do what they find interesting and fun. Of course, developing greater competence could be the goal of behaviors that are energized by effectance motivation, such as when a high-school girl is interested in practicing free throws in order to improve her basketball game. But it is extremely important to note that in the conception of what has come to be called intrinsically motivated behaviors, although based at least in part in effectance motivation, one need not have the goal of becoming more competent. The goal may simply be to do an activity that one finds interesting. Competence and Self-Determination The fourth issue concerns the relation of competence to self-determination or autonomy. In White's (1959) discussion, he reviewed the work of Angyal (1941), who emphasized the fact that living organisms assimilate aspects of the environment, transforming them into aspects of the self. In other words, over time, organisms internalize and integrate aspects of their environment as part of the process of mastering that environment. This trend, Angyal argued and White concurred, is toward greater autonomy or self-determination. Organisms, by their nature, attempt to subordinate heteronomous forces of the environment in the service of their own developing autonomy. Throughout his writings, White steadfastly focused on effectance or competence, and he gave relatively little attention to autonomy or self-determination, but he was essentially saying that effectance-motivated behavior would have the characteristic of being autonomous. Thus, White was essentially including autonomy or self-determination within the purview of effectance motivation. In a subsequent discussion, deCharms (1968) stated that "Man's primary motivational propensity is to be effective in producing changes in his environment. Man strives to be a causal agent, . . to experience personal causation" (p. 269). Here we see the same two ideas—to be competent in dealing with the environment and to be personally causative or self-determined. However, deCharms's work, in contrast to White's, emphasized personal causation or self-determination and essentially viewed competence as an aspect of personal causation. Thus, these two seminal thinkers focused on the same two elements, namely, competence and self-determination, but they placed different emphases on which was the more primary. In line with White (1959) and deCharms (1968), who essentially treated the two needs as one, Deci (1971, 1975) referred to the human need to be "competent and self-determining." It was not until 1980 that Deci and Ryan made clear that these are two separate needs. They argued that it was essential to propose two universal psychological needs—one for competence and one for autonomy—in order to provide a meaningful interpretation of all the experimental findings that had emerged in the study of intrinsic motivation during the 1970s. BASIC PSYCHOLOGICAL NEEDS AND INTRINSIC MOTIVATION One of the most important reasons for postulating innate psychological needs is that they provide the basis for making predictions about the effects of social-contextual forces on natural, growth-oriented processes and psychological well-being. According to self-determination theory (Deci & Ryan, 1985, 2000), basic psychological needs are defined in terms of the nutrients that are essential for healthy development. Thus, those contextual factors that might be expected to satisfy psychological needs would be predicted to facilitate natural processes and psychological health, whereas those factors that might be expected to thwart psychological needs would be predicted to have negative consequences. For example, specifying a basic need for competence allows one to predict that the aspects of the social environment that promote competence would facilitate well-being, whereas those that undermine competence would diminish well-being. Intrinsic motivation is posited to be a natural psychological process (Deci, 1975). It is a manifestation of the proactivity inherent in the nature of human life. When people are not blocked or discouraged from doing so, they engage their physical and social environments, doing what interests them and at- 584 VI. SELF-REGULATORY PROCESSES tempting to master aspects of their world. This motivation is so persistent that, at times, it is more prepotent than drive-based motivation. According to self-determination theory, there are three innate psychological needs, those for competence, autonomy, and relatedness, but competence and autonomy are the more central for intrinsic motivation. Thus, the theory proposes that the needs for competence and autonomy must be satisfied for intrinsic motivation to be promoted and maintained, and a considerable amount of research has examined the question of whether satisfying these two needs is in fact positively related to the flourishing of natural processes and well-being, whereas thwarting the needs is negatively related to those outcomes. We turn now to a review of that experimental work, which concerns social-contextual influences on intrinsic motivation, and to the interpretation of the results based on the concept of basic psychological needs. SOCIAL CONTEXTS AND INTRINSIC MOTIVATION The study of social-contextual influences began with an exploration of the effects of extrinsic rewards on intrinsic motivation. Expectancy-valence theories (e.g., Porter & Lawler, 1968} had proposed that intrinsic and extrinsic motivation are additive, yielding total motivation. This led to the suggestion that activities (learning, work, etc.) should be designed to be as interesting as possible to stimulate intrinsic motivation, and that social contexts should be organized to provide extrinsic rewards that are contingent upon effective performance at the activities. That way, there would be maximal motivation, consisting of the sum of the intrinsic motivation from the interesting activities and the extrinsic motivation from the contingent rewards. Attribution theory made a different prediction, however. deCharms (1968) suggested that when people perceive the locus of causality for their behavior to be within themselves, they tend to be intrinsically motivated, but when they perceive the locus of causality to be external, they tend to be ex-trinsically motivated. In line with Heider (1958) and Kelley (1967), deCharms further suggested that when extrinsic motivators are present, there is a tendency to attribute the cause of a behavior to an external factor (e.g., a reward) and to discount the internal factor (i.e., intrinsic motivation). Thus, the addition of an extrinsic motivator to intrinsic motivation would produce a negative interaction, resulting in the diminishment of intrinsic motivation. Effects of Extrinsic Rewards on Intrinsic Motivation Initial experiments testing this reasoning involved participants' working on an interesting target activity within one of two groups. Participants in one group received a reward, whereas those in the other did not, and the subsequent level of intrinsic motivation of the two groups was assessed. The primary measure was the so-called "free-choice" behavioral measure, in which participants were provided a period of free play, when they could choose the target activity or alternatives, and the amount of time they spent with the target activity represented their intrinsic motivation for that activity. The secondary measure was participants' reports of how interesting they found the target activity. Deci (1971) did the first of these experiments. In it, college students in one group received monetary rewards for working on interesting spatial-relations puzzles, and those in the other group did the same puzzles without rewards. Results indicated that participants in the reward condition showed decrements in intrinsic motivation relative to participants in the no-reward control group. A study by Lepper, Greene, and Nisbett (1973) found comparable results when preschool children doing an art activity were given good player awards, and dozens of subsequent studies have replicated the general result (see Deci, Koestner, & Ryan, 1999a). It appears then that the addition of a tangible extrinsic reward does tend to undermine intrinsic motivation by shifting the perceived locus of causality from internal to external. However, Deci and Ryan (1985) argued that an attributional explanation does not provide a full account of this undermining. Although people might perceive the locus of causality to become more exter- 31. The Concept of Competence 585 nal when they begin to receive a reward for doing an interesting activity, it is not clear why that alone should diminish people's interest, energy, and desire to do the activity. The authors argued, however, that if people have an innate need to be s elf-determining, to feel like the initiators of their own activities, then the addition of the external reward might leave them feeling controlled by the reward, thus thwarting their experience of autonomy or self-determination and resulting in the diminishment of the natural process of intrinsic motivation. Positive Feedback (oka Verbal Rewards) Along with the early studies of tangible rewards on intrinsic motivation were studies that examined the effects of positive feedback (referred to by some as "verbal rewards") on intrinsic motivation. These studies found that whereas tangible rewards tended to undermine intrinsic motivation, positive feedback tended to enhance it (Deci, 1971). Deci and Ryan (1980) argued that the positive feedback enhanced intrinsic motivation by satisfying participants' need for competence, and mediational analyses showed that perceived competence did in fact account for the changes in intrinsic motivation following feedback (Elliot et al., 2000; Vallerand & Reid, 1984). Thus, these various studies suggested that whereas tangible rewards undermine intrinsic motivation by thwarting people's need for autonomy, positive feedback enhances intrinsic motivation by supporting their need for competence. The Rewards Controversy The finding that extrinsic rewards undermine intrinsic motivation was controversial from the time it first appeared in the literature (e.g., Calder & Staw, 1975; Scott, 1975), and it continues to be so. For example, Eisenberger and Cameron (1996) discussed a meta-analysis that had been done by Cameron and Pierce (1994), concluding that there is no evidence for the undermining of intrinsic motivation by extrinsic rewards. However, it turned out that, as detailed by Deci et al. (1999a), the meta-analysis by Cameron and Pierce (1994) was fatally flawed, and the conclusions were wholly in- valid. Subsequently, Eisenberger, Pierce, and Cameron (1999) argued, citing the work of investigators such as Harackiewicz and Manderlink (1984), that at least performance-contingent rewards do not undermine intrinsic motivation but instead enhance it. Performance-contingent rewards are those given for doing well at an activity—that is, for meeting or surpassing some standard. Again, it turned out that the claim by the Eisenberger group (1999) was invalid (see Deci, Koestner, & Ryan, 1999b). In fact, the meta-analysis showed quite clearly that, on average, performance-contingent rewards undermined intrinsic motivation, assessed with the behavioral measure, and did not affect enjoyment of the activity (Deci et al., 1999a). Thus, across all performance-contingent reward studies, there was no evidence for enhancement either of intrinsic motivation or enjoyment. Performance-contingent rewards are more complexly related to intrinsic motivation than are most other reward contingencies because, like all tangible expected rewards, they not only have a strong controlling component but they also convey positive competence information to those who receive them; that is, the rewards tend to thwart the need for autonomy, while satisfying the need for competence. Ryan, Mims, and Koestner (1983) thus argued that the effects of performance-contingent rewards would depend on how they were administered—that is, whether they were administered so that the controlling component is more salient or the positive competence information is more salient. These investigators found that if the style of administration provided support for autonomy and emphasized the positive information, the rewards enhanced intrinsic motivation relative to a no-reward/no-feedback comparison group; however, they still undermined intrinsic motivation relative to a no-reward group that got positive competence information comparable to the information conveyed by the performance-contingent reward. It thus appears that although, on average, performance-contingent rewards decrease intrinsic motivation, if the style of administration is autonomy-supportive, performance-contingent rewards can enhance intrinsic motivation for the people who get them relative to no rewards and no feedback. This, presumably, is be- 586 VI. SELF-REGULATORY PROCESSES cause they increase perceived competence. However, positive feedback is even more effective at enhancing intrinsic motivation relative to no rewards and no feedback than are performance-contingent rewards. Furthermore, for people who attempt to obtain performance-contingent rewards and fail to do so, the reward contingency is likely to be highly detrimental, because it diminishes feelings of both competence and autonomy. Effects of Other External Factors on Intrinsic Motivation If the general undermining of intrinsic motivation by tangible extrinsic rewards is really a function of its thwarting the need for autonomy, then other external motivators that might be expected to control behavior ought also to undermine intrinsic motivation. To test this, Deci and Cascio (1972) did a study in which participants in one group learned that they would receive an aversive event (a loud buzzer) if they did not solve puzzles within the allotted time. Comparison-group participants did the same puzzles with the same time allotments, but they had no expectation of a punishment if they failed to complete the puzzles in the allotted time. Results of this experiment showed that trying to solve the puzzles under the condition of avoiding a punishment decreased people's intrinsic motivation for the target activity relative to the comparison group. Thus, it appears that working to avoid a punishment decreased participants' intrinsic motivation relative to that of the participants not working under conditions of threat. Complementary findings by Elliot and Harackiewicz (1996) indicated that having the goal of trying to avoid failure in order to prove one's competence relative to others also undermined intrinsic motivation. Additional studies showed that deadlines (Amabile, Dejong, & Lepper, 1976; Reader &c Dollinger, 1982), surveillance (Lepper & Greene, 1975; Pittman, Davey, Alafat, Wetherill, & Kramer, 1980; Plant & Ryan, 1985), evaluations (Church, Elliot, & Gable, 2001; Smith, 1975), imposed goals (Mossholder, 1980), and competition (Deci, Betley, Kahle, Abrams, & Porac, 1981) can all undermine intrinsic motivation. These external factors are frequently used by one person to try "to motivate" others, so it is reasonable to think that those others might experience these external factors as controls—that is, as pressures from someone else to think, feel, or behavior in particular ways. Thus, presumably, the undermining of intrinsic motivation by these external events would have been due to a thwarting of the people's need for autonomy. Enhancing Autonomy and Intrinsic Motivation To the extent that external events such as rewards and deadlines undermine intrinsic motivation because they thwart satisfaction of the autonomy need, events that facilitate satisfaction of the need for autonomy should enhance intrinsic motivation. Zuckerman, Porac, Lathin, Smith, and Deci (1978) reasoned that providing participants choice about which of a set of puzzles to work on and how long to spend on each should allow them to feel more autonomous, thus enhancing their intrinsic motivation relative to participants who are assigned the puzzles and time allotments chosen by others. Indeed, the results did support this reasoning. Subsequent studies (e.g., Cordova 6c Lepper, 1996; Iyengar & Lepper, 1999) have shown that providing participants with choice rather than having the experimenter make choices for them enhanced intrinsic motivation, a result that was found for both European Americans and Asian Americans. Koestner, Ryan, Bernieri, and Holt (1984) suggested that acknowledging people's perspectives—that is, relating to them from their internal frame of reference, while communicating with them—should also leave people feeling more self-initiating and volitional and should thus enhance their intrinsic motivation. An experiment by these researchers using late elementary school children as participants confirmed their reasoning. Participants whose feelings were acknowledged displayed greater intrinsic motivation for a task than those whose feelings were not acknowledged. Competence and Intrinsic Motivation Intrinsic motivation for an activity involves engaging it out of interest, and theorists (Csikszentmihalyi, 1975; Deci, 1975) have suggested that one important feature of ac- 31. The Concept of Competence 587 tivities that will be intrinsically motivating is that they represent an optimal challenge given the person's capacities. Danner and Lonky (1981) did a study in which children were free to choose from various activities that differed in terms of difficulty. The researchers had pretested the children for cognitive ability relevant to the task, and they found that when the children were free to select which tasks to work on, they went to the ones that were somewhat more difficult than their pretested skill levels. These tasks were also rated by the children as most interesting. Additional studies (e.g., Shapira, 1976) found comparable results emphasizing the importance of optimal challenge for intrinsic motivation. It makes sense that intrinsic motivation, which is a manifestation of the natural growth tendency within humans, would be facilitated by exposure to tasks that are optimally challenging, because these are the ones that could provide stimulation for developing greater competence, thus satisfying the basic human need for competence. As mentioned earlier in the chapter, research (e.g., Deci, 1971) has found that positive feedback for doing well at an activity tends to enhance intrinsic motivation for interesting activities, and, as also noted, this was interpreted as indicating that the positive feedback promoted satisfaction of people's need for competence. In line with this interpretation, Deci, Cascio, and Krusell (1973) found that negative feedback decreased people's intrinsic motivation, presumably because it thwarted satisfaction of their need for competence (see also Vallerand & Reid, 1984). However, studies have shown that in order for positive feedback to have a positive effect on intrinsic motivation, the positive feedback must be experienced within a context of support for autonomy (Fisher, 1978; Ryan, 1982). Positive feedback statements such as "Good, you did just as you should on that one" were experienced as pressuring and controlling, thus thwarting the need for autonomy, and did not have a positive effect on intrinsic motivation even though they provided positive competence feedback (Ryan, 1982). Complementary results from Ryan, Koestner, and Deci (1991) showed that when people were ego-involved, thus being controlled rather than autonomous, positive feedback did not enhance their intrinsic motivation. Two additional findings about positive feedback are worth noting. First, studies by Deci, Cascio, and Krusell (1975) and Kast and Connor (1988) showed that although positive feedback enhanced the intrinsic motivation of male participants, it decreased the intrinsic motivation of females. To interpret this, Deci et al. (1975) used the distinction between the informational and controlling aspects of feedback. Whereas the informational aspect signifies competence, the controlling aspect pressures people to behave in ways that will yield further positive feedback. The researchers suggested that, for the males, the informational aspect was more salient, so they experienced the feedback as affirmation of their competence, whereas, for females, the controlling aspect was more salient, so they came to believe that they did the behavior in order to get the feedback. This, the authors speculated, could be a function of socialization, which traditionally has emphasized independent achievement for males and interpersonal sensitivity for females. Although several other studies of positive feedback did not report any sex differences, the results of the two studies do imply that females may be more susceptible than males to being controlled by positive feedback. The second additional finding is that in a meta-analysis, Deci et al. (1999a) found that, across more than 30 studies, although positive feedback enhanced intrinsic motivation for college student participants, it did not have an enhancing effect on intrinsic motivation for children. It appears that, for children, the controlling aspect of positive feedback was salient enough to offset the competence affirmation, leaving no enhancement of intrinsic motivation. Presumably, with their greater cognitive capacity and independence, college students were more able to focus on the informational aspect of the positive feedback without feeling controlled by it. To summarize, competence is an important element for intrinsic motivation. People need to develop competencies, and engagement with optimally challenging activities is the basis through which this occurs. Furthermore, feedback affects intrinsic motivation by affecting people's experience of satisfac- 588 VI. SELF-REGULATORY PROCESSES tion versus thwarting of the need for competence. Positive feedback tends to increase intrinsic motivation by enhancing perceived competence, and negative feedback tends to decrease intrinsic motivation by diminishing perceived competence. However, for the positive feedback to promote intrinsic motivation, the feedback must be presented in a way that allows the person to feel volition in doing the activity and ownership of the performance. Furthermore the likelihood that positive feedback will have a positive effect on intrinsic motivation is less for women than for men and less for children than for adults. Interpersonal Contexts and Intrinsic Motivation Several studies have examined the general climate or ambience of a situation (e.g., a classroom) as it affects the intrinsic motivation of people in it. In one study, for example, Deci, Schwartz, Sheinman, and Ryan (1981) studied teachers in fourth- through sixth-grade classrooms, examining their relative endorsements of the ideas of controlling students' behavior versus supporting students' autonomy. Controlling behavior involves pressuring the students to think, feel, or behave in particular ways; whereas supporting autonomy involves understanding the students' perspective, providing choice, and encouraging self-initiation. The reasoning was that teachers who were oriented toward controlling behavior would tend to create a controlling climate in their classrooms, which would undermine intrinsic motivation, whereas those oriented toward supporting autonomy would create a more open and informational climate that would enhance intrinsic motivation. Results of the research supported this reasoning; within the first 2 months of a school year, students in the autonomy-supportive classrooms gained in perceived competence and intrinsic motivation relative to students in the controlling classrooms. Ryan and colleagues (e.g., Ryan, 1982; Ryan et al., 1983) did a set of laboratory experiments in which they created an autonomy-supportive versus controlling climate within the laboratory and examined whether specific external events such as rewards or positive feedback would have different ef- fects on intrinsic motivation, depending on the interpersonal climate within which they were administered. They found that, although tangible rewards that convey positive competence information tend to undermine intrinsic motivation in general, they maintain or enhance intrinsic motivation when administered in an autonomy-supportive context (Ryan et al., 1983). Furthermore, positive feedback, which tends, on average, to increase intrinsic motivation by enhancing perceived competence, had a negative effect on intrinsic motivation when administered in a controlling context (Ryan, 1982). Finally, competition, which tends to undermine intrinsic motivation, can also provide competence affirmation (Elliot & Möller, 2003). Reeve and Deci (1996) found that when the interpersonal context surrounding competition is less pressuring and controlling, the competition is less detrimental to intrinsic motivation. Thus, both the interpersonal context and the specific external events administered within them affect people's intrinsic motivation. INTERNALIZATION OF MOTIVATION When people are experiencing satisfaction of their basic psychological needs, they tend to do what interests them. In other words, they tend to be intrinsically motivated. Thus, intrinsic motivation requires experiencing an activity as interesting, while also feeling some support for one's basic needs. The fact that interest is so central to intrinsic motivation implies, of course, that if an individual did not find an activity interesting, he or she would not be intrinsically motivated for it. Under such circumstances, for the person to do the activity at all would require some type of extrinsic motivation—"extrinsic motivation" being defined as doing an activity for some operationally separable consequence. The bulk of the research examining the relation of extrinsic to intrinsic motivation seemed to show that extrinsic and intrinsic motivation were negatively interactive, therefore suggesting that to be extrinsically motivated is to be controlled and thus not autonomous or self-determined. However, in most of the studies reviewed earlier, the extrinsic motivation involved a specific extrin- 31. The Concept of Competence 589 sic contingency linking behavior to a tangible outcome that was implemented by one individual to motivate another. Internalization According to self-determination theory (Deci &C Ryan, 1985), those external contingencies represent only one type of extrinsic motivation. Other types could be more autonomous, while also satisfying the needs for competence and relatedness. The theory maintains that this occurs through internalization of a regulatory process and the value implicit in it. However, self-determination theory uses a differentiated conception of internalization. Specifically, whereas many theories (e.g., Bandura, 1977; Mead, 1934) view internalization as a unitary concept, that is, a regulatory process and value are either external or they have been internalized, self-determination theory maintains that people can internalize behaviors and values to differing degrees, ranging from taking them in but not accepting them as their own, to internalizing them and integrating them into their sense of self (Ryan, Connell, & Deci, 1985). Self-determination theory proposes that internalization is an active process through which people engage their social world, gradually transforming socially sanctioned mores or requests into personally endorsed values and self-regulations. When internalization processes function optimally, people identify with the value of an activity or regulation and make that an aspect of their integrated self. If, however, the internalization process is not adequately supported, so that identification does not occur, the regulation will be internalized but not integrated. According to self-determination theory, four distinct types of regulation are associated with extrinsic motivation, resulting from differing degrees to which the regulation and value have been internalized. Ranging from least to most internalized, the types of regulation are external, introjected, identified, and integrated. External Regulation When people's behavior is controlled by specific external contingencies, the regulation is said to be external. People behave with the intent to attain a desired reward or to avoid a threatened punishment. This is the type of extrinsic motivation that has been extensively examined and found to undermine intrinsic motivation (Deci et al., 1999a). Within self-determination theory, externally regulated behaviors are considered contingency-dependent, and these behaviors tend not to persist once the contingency has been terminated (Deci & Ryan, 1985). Introjection When people take in an external regulation without making it their own, the regulation is said to be introjected. Behaviors are then controlled by internal contingencies—that is, by sanctions people administer to themselves. Prototypical examples of introjection are contingent self-worth and threats of guilt and shame, as well as ego involvement (Ryan, 1982) and public self-consciousness (Plant & Ryan, 1985). Introjection is a particularly interesting type of regulation, because it is internal to the person but is relatively external to the person's integrated self. Identification When people recognize and accept the underlying value of a behavior, they are said to have identified with it. This process is a much fuller type of internalization than is in-troj ection, because identification indicates that the people have, to a substantial degree, made the regulation their own. As such, they will be relatively autonomous in carrying out the behavior. Still, the behavior will be extrinsically motivated, because it is instrumental to a separable outcome rather than being intrinsically motivated, which would require its being done solely as a source of spontaneous interest and enjoyment. Integration Finally, within the self-determination theory conceptualization of internalization, integration represents the fullest, most mature form of extrinsic motivation. It involves not only identifying with the importance of a behavior but also integrating that identification with other aspects of one's self. When the identification has been integrated, what had initially been an external regulation will 590 VI. SELF-REGULATORY PROCESSES have been fully transformed into autonomous self-regulation. Interpersonal Contexts and Internalization Like the ongoing functioning of intrinsic motivation, internalization and integration are natural, growth-oriented processes that are inherent to the nature of life. Within people's nature is the tendency to internalize and integrate into themselves aspects of their world, and these processes allow people to be more effective in dealing with that world. Yet like all natural, human processes, these require nutriments to function effectively. From the perspective of self-determination theory, the essential nutriments are satisfaction of the basic psychological needs for competence, relatedness, and autonomy. Internalization and Need Satisfaction We mentioned earlier that the needs for competence and autonomy are the most important for maintaining and enhancing intrinsic motivation, and that the influence of relatedness is more distal. In other words, people can remain intrinsically motivated without having immediate satisfaction of the relatedness need while doing the activity, but people must experience satisfaction of the needs for competence and autonomy while doing the activity in order to remain intrinsically motivated. With the process of internalization, however, the need for relatedness (see, e.g., Baumeister & Leary, 1995) plays a more central role than it does with intrinsic motivation. Specifically, self-determination theory proposes that people's tendency to internalize regulations is energized by their needs for relatedness and competence; that is, people's desires to belong within the social world and to be effective in negotiating that world prompt them to take in the regulation of activities that are not interesting in their own right. It is thus because of people's desires to maintain and enhance interpersonal relationships and to feel effective in doing a wide range of behaviors that they will both internalize ambient values, mores, behaviors, and attitudes, and learn to do things that are not interesting but are important for succeeding within society. However, although the needs for competence and relat- edness are important motivators for internalization, satisfaction of these needs does not determine whether the internalizations will be merely introjected or more fully integrated. It is satisfaction of the autonomy need with respect to a target behavior that is necessary to promote integration. Thus, although feelings of competence and relatedness are necessary contributors toward integration, they are not sufficient to promote it. Satisfaction of all three needs is necessary. Thus, failure to satisfy the basic needs for competence, relatedness, and autonomy will interfere with full internalization. Chaotic and rejecting environments (i.e., those that thwart satisfaction of competence and relatedness) are likely to interfere with any internalization, and excessive pressure is likely to interfere with identification and integration, forestalling internalization at the level of nitro j ection. Studies of Internalization Empirical support for this analysis of internalization has been provided by both field studies and laboratory experiments. In one study, Grolnick and Ryan (1989) did extensive interviews with the parents of fourth-through sixth-grade children. These interviews focused on the parents' approach to dealing with their children in regard to homework and chores around the house. The responses were used to characterize the parents in terms of the degree to which they (1) were involved with their children concerning these issues, (2) provided an optimal amount of structure for the children in relation to these activities, and (3) were autonomy supportive rather than controlling in these realms. Subsequently, the children's motivation was assessed by questionnaires in their regular classrooms. Results indicated that parents who were more involved, provided more optimal structure, and were more autonomy supportive had children who not only were more intrinsically motivated for schoolwork but had also internalized behavioral regulations and values more fully. These motivational factors were in turn positively associated with teachers' ratings of the children's competence, standardized achievement, and well-being. A follow-up study by Grolnick, Ryan, and Deci (1991) assessed children's perceptions of 31. The Concept of Competence 591 their parents' autonomy support and involvement, and found that the children's perceptions were also related to greater internalization. A field study done in two medical schools provided additional evidence concerning this issue (Williams & Deci, 1996). The course was for second-year students who were learning to interview patients. The investigators found that the instructors who were more autonomy supportive (vs. controlling) had students who more fully internalized the values and regulations emphasized in the course, and whose interviewing of patients done 6 months after the course ended was rated as more effective. Deci, Eghrari, Patrick, and Leone (1994) did a laboratory experiment that focused on three specific external factors that were hypothesized to allow satisfaction of the basic needs and thus facilitate internalization. The factors were (1) a meaningful rationale that conveys why it is important to do the activity effectively, (2) acknowledgment of people's feelings about the activity, and (3) use of language that conveyed choice rather than control. Results showed that these three factors did facilitate internalization. Even more importantly, results indicated that when at least two of the facilitating factors were present, internalization tended to be integrated, as indexed by significant positive correlations between subsequent behavior and self-reports of valuing the activity and feeling free while doing it. In contrast, in conditions with at most one facilitating factor present, internalization was only introjected as reflected by negative correlations between subsequent behavior and the self-report variables. When there were fewer facilitating factors, people who did display more subsequent behavior felt less free and enjoyed the activity less. In short, conditions that promote greater satisfaction of the psychological needs tend not only to promote more internalization but also to ensure that the internalization will be more integrated. A study by Assor, Roth, and Deci (2004) examined internalization under conditions in which parents create conflict within their children about being able to satisfy their needs. Specifically, the researchers assessed whether parents had provided conditional acceptance and regard to their children, dependent upon the children displaying com- petence in particular domains such as schoolwork and sports. In other words, the parents provided attention and affection (thus satisfying relatedness) for the children's successes (thus satisfying competence), but by making their love contingent, they were undermining their children's autonomy. Results indicated that contingent regard from parents led the children to in-troject the regulations—that is, they subsequently engaged in the behaviors, but they felt a sense of inner compulsion to do it. Along with these feelings of inner compulsion, the children displayed contingent self-esteem, short-lived satisfaction after successes, shame and guilt after failures, and resentment of their parents. This, then, supports the hypothesis that satisfaction of the needs for competence and relatedness will facilitate internalization, but it will take the form of introjection, not integration, if support for autonomy is not also present. Competence Valuation Intrinsic motivation and integrated extrinsic motivation represent the two forms of self-determined behavior. Intrinsic motivation is based in people's interest in the activity itself, while integrated extrinsic motivation is based in the importance of the activity for people's self-selected goals. When people understand and accept the value of a behavior, they will internalize its regulation. Self-determination theory maintains, however, that internalizing an extrinsic motivation does not typically transform it into an intrinsic motivation, because intrinsic motivation is about interest in the activity, whereas extrinsic motivation is about the activity's instrumental value. "Competence valuation" means that being competent at an activity is very important for people. Harackiewicz and Šansone (2000) proposed that when the value of being competent at an activity is emphasized, people will become more intrinsically motivated for the activity. The self-determination theory perspective maintains, however, that if the importance of doing a behavior well is emphasized, people may be more likely to identify with the activity and thus be more autonomous in their extrinsic motivation for it, but they will not be more intrinsically motivated. Intrinsic motivation is based in 592 VI. SELF-REGULATORY PROCESSES interest rather than value, and there is little reason to expect that competence valuation will enhance intrinsic motivation for the behavior, although it could promote identification. Summary Internalization is the means through which people can deal with uninteresting behaviors in a way that allows satisfaction of their basic psychological needs. We have argued that the needs for competence and relatedness provide energy for internalizing behavioral regulations, and that the need for autonomy is the motivational basis for integrating, rather than just introjecting, behavioral regulations. The concept of basic needs for competence, relatedness, and autonomy has thus proven useful for interpreting results of research not only on intrinsic motivation but also on the internalization of extrinsic motivation. HUMAN NEEDS AS UNIVERSALS The fact that the concept of basic human needs has had great utility for interpreting a range of empirical phenomena has provided some support for the proposition that humans do indeed have these fundamental needs. However, additional lines of research have focused more directly on verifying that these are universal needs. There are two primary strands to this work. First, because needs are defined as essential nutriments, evidence that satisfaction of the needs is associated with well-being and that thwarting of the needs is associated with ill-being would represent important support for the postulate. Second, because the needs are assumed to be universal, comparability of phenomena across cultures would also provide critical evidence. Thus, we now review some relevant studies. Relation of Need Satisfaction to Weil-Being "Well-being" concerns the experiences of psychological and physical health and life satisfaction. It has been variously defined, with emotional positivity being a central element in most definitions. Self-determination theory emphasizes, however, that the concept of well-being must include a full sense of organismíc functioning and wellness (Ryan & Frederick, 1997; Ryan, Deci, & Grolnick, 1995). Thus, for example, feeling negative emotions can be important and restorative under certain circumstances. Self-determination theory further proposes that need satisfaction over time will affect well-being at the level of individual differences, and also that fluctuations in need satisfaction will directly predict fluctuations in well-being over short periods of time. Two studies have tested the relation of need satisfaction to well-being over time using a diary procedure that assessed both need satisfaction and well-being on a daily basis. The use of multilevel modeling with these data allowed examination of both be-tween-person and within-person associations of experienced need satisfaction to indicators of well-being. Sheldon, Ryan, and Reis (1996) examined daily variations in people's experiences of autonomy and competence over a 2-week period. They found that at the between-person level, individual differences in perceived autonomy and perceived competence correlated significantly with 2-week aggregates of well-being indicators such as positive affect, vitality, and the inverse of negative affect and physical symptoms. Then, after removing between-person variance, daily fluctuations in satisfaction of needs for autonomy and competence were found to predict daily fluctuations in well-being. On days when people felt autonomous and competent, they reported feeling happy and well. In the second study, Reis, Sheldon, Gable, Roscoe, and Ryan (2000) examined the three basic psychological needs for competence, autonomy, and relatedness. At the between-person level, they found that measures of autonomy, competence, and relatedness were all associated with aggregate indices of well-being, thus confirming the between-person predictions. As in the Sheldon et al. (1996) study, after person-level variance was removed, daily variability in satisfaction of the three needs independently predicted daily variability in well-being. Thus, the two studies showed a clear linkage between need satisfaction and well-being at both within-person and between-person levels of analysis. Furthermore, they 31. The Concept of Competence 593 showed independent contributions from satisfaction of each basic need for each day's well-being. Other studies have focused within domains to examine the relation of need satisfaction to well-being. In one such study, Ilardi, Leone, Kasser, and Ryan (1993) found that the reports of factory workers about the satisfaction of their autonomy, competence, and relatedness needs in the workplace were related to their self-esteem and general health. Another study in a banking company related satisfaction of the basic needs to vitality and to the inverse of both anxiety and somatization (Baard, Deci, & Ryan, 2004). Studies by Kasser and Ryan (1999) and by Vallerand and O'Connor (1989) showed that ongoing need satisfaction in the lives of aged residents in institutional settings predicted their well-being and perceived health. To summarize, after determining that the postulate of three basic psychological needs served a very useful function in providing a meaningful integration of experimental results concerning intrinsic motivation and the internalization of extrinsic motivation, subsequent research showed that the experienced satisfaction of these three needs was directly related to psychological health and well-being among a range of participants in varied settings. Need Satisfaction across Cultures Several recent studies have examined the importance of basic need satisfaction in various cultures, in part to provide evidence consistent with the self-determination theory hypothesis that the needs for competence, autonomy, and relatedness are universal. For example, in one study of workers in America and Bulgaria, Deci et al. (2001) related managers' styles to employees' experiences of need satisfaction on the job and, in turn, to well-being. The Bulgarian workers were from state-owned companies that operated primarily by central planning principles, whereas the American workers were recruited from a privately owned data management company that operated by market-economy principles. Analyses revealed that the various constructs being examined were comparable across the two cultures and, importantly that, in both cultures, managers' being more autonomy supportive predicted greater satisfaction of the competence, autonomy, and relatedness needs among employees, which in turn predicted greater vitality, less anxiety, and fewer physical symptoms in the employees. These results thus complemented those reviewed earlier from the studies by Baard et al., (2004) and Ilardi et al. (1993). In short, in these two disparate cultures with different economic systems, social-contextual supports predicted satisfaction of the basic needs, which in turn predicted greater psychological and physical adjustment. A study by Chirkov, Ryan, Kim, and Kaplan (2003), involving data from Turkey, South Korea, Russia, and the United States, concerned internalization of the values of individualism (a strongly endorsed Western value) and collectivism (a strongly endorsed Eastern value). As we have seen, internalization functions most effectively under conditions of satisfaction of all three basic needs and, as would therefore be expected, the degree of integration of the values for participants across the four cultures did predict enhanced psychological health and well-being. SUMMARY AND CONCLUSIONS During the 1950s, psychology was still focused primarily on drives such as hunger and sex as the energizing basis for all motivated behaviors. White (1959) argued, however, that a set of phenomena had been identified with humans, as well as with rats and monkeys, that vitiate this claim. Specifically, people and other animals were observed engaging in behaviors such as play and exploration that did not appear to reduce drives; indeed, they appeared to induce them. White thus proposed a new type of motivation that would supplement the drives as an energizing force. Maintaining that it is implicit in the natural tendency to master people's internal and external environments, White named it "effectance motivation" and posited that its effective functioning is the basis for healthy development. White's description of effectance motivation fit the definition of a "need for competence" (Deci &c Ryan, 1980), although he refrained from using that term. 594 VI. SELF-REGULATORY PROCESSES deCharms (1968), in discussing this new-type of motivation, emphasized that people strive to master their environment and thus to feel like causal agents. In making this statement, deCharms was emphasizing what has come to be called the "need for autonomy or self-determination" as an important motivational force. The idea of fundamental psychological needs for competence and self-determination (Deci Si Ryan, 1980) proved useful in interpreting the results of experiments on intrinsic motivation. For example, social-contextual conditions, such as optimal challenge and positive feedback, tended to enhance intrinsic motivation by promoting perceived competence. Similarly, rewards tended to decrease intrinsic motivation, and choice tended to enhance it, because the former left people feeling controlled, while the latter left them feeling more autonomous. Research on the internalization of extrinsic motivation made clear that, while satisfaction of the needs for competence and autonomy are important for internalization, the basic need for relatedness is also critical for this process. In part, people are inclined to internalize the behaviors and values in their social environment in order to feel both a sense of belonging within that environment and a sense of competence and autonomy. Thus, the concept of the three basic psychological needs proved essential for integrating research results related to both intrinsic and extrinsic motivation. Subsequent research has been more directly concerned with providing evidence that the new type of motivation is indeed based in psychological needs. For example, studies have shown that when people experience satisfaction of the basic needs, they also evidence greater well-being, whereas when satisfaction of the needs is thwarted, there are negative psychological consequences. 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FLOW CHAPTER 32 Flow míhaly csikszentmihalyi sami abuhamdeh jeanne nakamura A GENERAL CONTEXT FOR A CONCEPT OF MASTERY MOTIVATION What makes people want to go on with the effort required from life? Every epistemology of behavior must sooner or later cope with this basic question. The question is not so mysterious for nonhuman organisms, which presumably have built-in genetic programs instructing them to live as long as their physical machinery is able to function. But our species has a choice: With the development of consciousness, we have the ability to second-guess and occasionally override the instructions coded in our chromosomes. This evolutionary development has added a great deal of flexibility to the human repertoire of behaviors. But the freedom gained has its downside—too many possibilities can have a paralyzing effect on action (Schwartz, 2000). Among the options we are able to entertain is that of ending our lives; thus, as the existential philosophers remarked, the question of why one should not commit suicide is fundamental to the understanding of human life. In fact, most attempts at a general psychology also start with the assumption that human beings have a "need" or a "drive" for self-preservation, and that all other motivations, if not reducible to, are then at least based on such a need. For example Maslow's hierarchy assumes that survival takes precedence over all other considerations, and no other need becomes active until survival is reasonably assured. But where is this will to live located? Is it nothing but a variation of the survival instincts all living organisms share, chemically etched into our genes? The last try for a comprehensive human psychology, that of Sigmund Freud, posited Eros as the source of all behavior—a force akin to the élan vital of the French philosopher Henri Bergson (1931/1944) and to similar concepts of life energy proposed by a long list of thinkers going back to the beginnings of speculative thought. 598 32. Flow 599 Eros, which originally referred to the need of the organism to fulfill its physical potential, was soon reduced in Freud's writings, and even more so in those of his followers, to the libidinal pleasure that through natural selection has become attached to the sexual reproductive act and to the organs implicated in it. Thus, "erotic" eventually became synonymous with "sexual." This reduction of the concept of vitality to the reproductive function rested on a reasonably sound logic. The Darwinian revolution highlighted the role of sexual selection in evolution; thus, it made sense to see sexuality as the master-need from which all other interests and motives derive. A species survives as long as its members reproduce. If the drive to reproduce became well entrenched in a species, its survival would be enhanced. Following Ockham's principle of parsimony, one might expect that as long as sexual drives are well established, other motives become secondary. Whatever men and women do, from making songs to mapping the heavens, is just a disguised expression of Eros, a manifestation of the reproductive drive. On closer examination, however, this single causality seems much less convincing. A species needs to take care of many other priorities besides reproduction in order to survive. At the human stage of evolution, where adaptation and survival depend increasingly on flexible responses mediated by conscious thought, members of the species had to learn how to master and control a hostile and changing environment. It makes sense to assume that natural selection favored those individuals, and their descendants, who enjoyed acts of mastery and control—just as survival was enhanced when other acts necessary for survival, such as eating and sex, became experienced as pleasurable. The various behaviors associated with control and mastery—such as curiosity, interest, exploration; the pursuit of skills, the relishing of challenges—need not be seen as derivatives of thwarted libidinal sexuality. They are just as much a part of human nature, just as necessary for our survival, as the drive to reproduce. The ancients understood this when they coined the aphorism Libri aut liberi: "Books or sons." As humans, we have the option of leaving a trace of our existence by writing books (or shaping tools, raising buildings, writing songs, etc.) and thus leaving a cultural legacy, as well as leaving our genes to our progeny. The two are not reducible to each other, but are equally important motives that have become ingrained in our natures. The idea that the ability to operate effectively in the environment fulfills a primary need is not new in psychology. In Germany, Karl Groos (1901) and Karl Bühler (1930) elaborated the concept of Funktionlust, or "activity pleasure," which Jean Piaget (1952) included in the earliest stages of sensorimotor development as the "pleasure of being a cause" that drove infants to experiment. In more recent psychological thought, Hebb (1955) and Berlyne (I960) focused on the nervous system's need for optimal levels of stimulation to explain exploratory behavior and the seeking of novelty, while White (1959) and deCharms (1968) focused on people's need to feel in control, to be the causal agents of their -actions. Later Deci and Ryan (Deci, 1971; Deci & Ryan, 1985) elaborated on this line of argument by suggesting that both competence and autonomy were innate psychological needs that must be satisfied for psychological growth and well-being. Theories that provide explanations for why people are motivated to master and control tend to be distal. In other words, they provide sensible explanations, typically based on an evolutionary framework, for why such behaviors should have become established over many generations, in order to support the reproductive success of the individual. However, for an activity pattern to become established in a species' repertoire, it has to be experienced as enjoyable by the individual. To explain how this happens, a proximal theory of motivation is needed. Such a theory must rely on at least four complementary lines of explanation. In the first place, it is likely that mastery-related behavior has become personally rewarding because it has evolved, through literally millions of years of trial and error, as an effective strategy to achieve other goals, such as mates and material resources. Overcoming challenges and excelling is therefore adaptive and increases chances for reproductive success. Second, one may adopt a more Freudian line and see mastery-related behavior as an 600 VI. SELF-REGULATORY PROCESSES internalized drive that could serve either the purposes of the id (in the case of tyrants or robber barons) or of the superego (in the case of creative, prosocial individuals). In this, as in the previous case, the behavior does not serve an independent function but is a disguised manifestation of other forces seeking their own aims. Third, the person may seek out such behaviors because of innate or learned psychological needs, such as competence and autonomy. According to this explanation, the enjoyment one experiences during intrinsically motivated behavior is largely a result of the satisfaction of these basic psychological needs. This chapter deals with a fourth kind of explanation, which we call the "phenome-nological account.'" It tries to look very closely at what people actually experience when they are involved in activities that involve mastery, control, and autonomous behavior, without prejudging the reasons for why such experiences exist. This line of explanation assumes that the human organism is a system in its own right, not reducible to lower levels of complexity, such as stimulus-response pathways, unconscious processes, or neurological structures. These four kinds of explanations are not incompatible with each other. In fact, they are likely to be all implicated in the genesis and maintenance of mastery behavior at the individual level. Quite often, they support each other, driving the organism in the same direction. But it is also often the case that the genetically programmed instructions may come into conflict with the learned ones, or that the unconscious forces press in a direction contrary to what the phenome-nological reality suggests. THE NATURE OF FLOW The fourth of these lines of explanation, focused on events occurring in the consciousness of the individual, is the one here identified with the study of the flow experience. This experience emerged over a quarter-century ago as a result of a series of studies of what were initially called autotelic activities; that is, things people seem to do for the activity's own sake. Why do people perform time-consuming, difficult, and often dangerous activities for which they receive no discernible extrinsic rewards? This was the question that originally prompted one of us into a program of research that involved extensive interviews with hundreds of rock climbers, chess players, athletes, and artists (Csikszentmihalyi, 1975; Nakamura & Csikszentmihalyi, 2002). The basic conclusion was that, in all the various groups studied, the respondents reported a very similar subjective experience that they enjoyed so much that they were willing to go to great lengths to experience it again. This we eventually called the "flow experience," because in describing how it felt when the activity was going well, several respondents used the metaphor of a current that carried them along effortlessly. Flow is a subjective state that people report when they are completely involved in something to the point of forgetting time, fatigue, and everything else but the activity itself. It is what we feel when we read a well-crafted novel or play a good game of squash, or take part in a stimulating conversation. The defining feature of flow is intense experiential involvement in moment-to-moment activity. Attention is fully invested in the task at hand, and the person functions at his or her fullest capacity. Mark Strand, former Poet Laureate of the United States, in one of our interviews, described this state while writing as follows: You're right in the work, you lose your sense of time, you're completely enraptured, you're completely caught up in what you are doing. . . . When you are working on something and you are working well, you have the feeling that there's no other way of saying what you're saying, (in Csikszentmihalyi, 1996, p. 121) The intense experiential involvement of flow is responsible for three additional subjective characteristics commonly reported: the merging of action and awareness, a sense of control, and an altered sense of time. The Merging of Action and Awareness The default option of consciousness is a chaotic review of things that one fears or desires, resulting in a phenomenological state we have elsewhere labeled "psychic entropy" (Csikszentmihalyi &c Csikszentmihalyi, 32. Flow 601 1988). During flow, however, attentional resources are fully invested in the task at hand, so that objects beyond the immediate interaction generally fail to enter awareness. One such object is the self. Respondents frequently describe a loss of self-consciousness during flow. Without the required attentional resources, the self-reflective processes that often intrude into awareness and cause attention to be diverted from what needs to be done are silenced, and the usual dualism between actor and action disappears. In the terms that George Herbert Mead introduced (1934/1970), the "me" disappears during flow, and the "I" takes over. A rock climber in an early study of flow put it this way: You're so involved in what you're doing you aren't thinking about yourself as separate from the immediate activity. You're no longer a participant observer, only a participant. You're moving in harmony with something else you're part of. (in Csikszentmihalyi, 1975, p. 86) A Sense of Control During flow, we typically experience a sense of control—or, more precisely, a lack of anxiety about losing control that is typical of many situations in normal life. This sense of control is also reported in activities that involve serious risks, such as hang gliding, rock climbing, and race car driving—activities that to an outsider would seem to be much more potentially dangerous than the affairs of everyday life. Yet these activities are structured to provide the participant with the means to reduce the margin of error to as close to zero as possible. Rock climbers, for example, insist that their hair-raising exploits are safer than crossing a busy street in Chicago, because, on the rock face, they can foresee every eventuality, whereas when crossing the street, they are at the mercy of fate. The sense of control respondents describe thus reflects the possibility, rather than the actuality, of control. Worrying about whether we can succeed at what we are doing—on the job, in relationships, even in crossing a busy street—is one of the major sources of psychic entropy in everyday life, and its reduction during flow is one of the reasons such an experience becomes enjoyable and thus rewarding. Altered Sense of Time William James (1890, Ch. 15, Sec. 4) noted that boredom seems to increase when "we grow attentive to the passage of time itself." During flow, attention is so fully invested in moment-to-moment activity that there is little left over to devote toward the mental processes that contribute to the experience of duration (Friedman, 1990). As a result, persons deeply immersed in an activity typically report time passing quickly (Conti, 2001). Exceptions occur in certain sports or jobs that require precise knowledge of time, but these are exceptions that prove the rule: Basketball players must learn not to dribble the ball in their own side of the court for more than 10 seconds; football players must learn to "manage the clock" in a close game. Awareness of time in these situations is not extraneous information signifying boredom, but a challenge that the person has to overcome in order to perform well. THE CONDITIONS OF FLOW Flow experiences are relatively rare in everyday life, but almost everything—work, study or religious ritual—is able to produce them, provided certain conditions are met. Past research suggests three conditions of key importance. First, flow tends to occur when the activity one engages in contains a clear set of goals. These goals serve to add direction and purpose to behavior. Their value lies in their capacity to structure experience by channeling attention rather than being ends in themselves. A second precondition for flow is a balance between perceived challenges and perceived skills. This condition is reminiscent of the concept of "optimal arousal" (Berlyne, 1960; Hunt, 1965), but differs from it in highlighting the fact that what counts at the phenomenological level is the perception of the demands and abilities, not necessarily their objective presence. When perceived challenges and skills are well matched, as in a close game of tennis or a satisfying musical performance, attention is completely absorbed. This balance, however, is intrinsically fragile. If challenges begin to exceed skills, one typically becomes 602 VI. SELF-REGULATORY PROCESSES anxious; if skills begin to exceed challenges, one relaxes and then becomes bored. These subjective states provide feedback about the shifting relationship to the environment and press the individual to adjust behavior in order to escape the more aversive subjective state and reenter flow. Finally, flow is dependent on the presence of clear and immediate feedback. The individual needs to negotiate the continually changing environmental demands that are part of all experientially involving activity (Reser & Scherl, 1988). Immediate feedback serves this purpose: It informs the individual how well he or she is progressing in the activity, and dictates whether to adjust or maintain the present course of action. It leaves the individual with little doubt about what to do next. Because flow takes place at a high level of challenge, the feedback one receives during the course of an activity will inevitably include "negative" performance feedback. From a phenomenological viewpoint, this negative feedback will not necessarily be detrimental to task involvement. Provided the individual perceives that he or she possesses the skills to take on the challenges of the activity, the valence of the feedback is of less consequence for activity enjoyment than the usefulness of the feedback in suggesting appropriate corrective measures. Indeed, it is not difficult to think of situations in which we intentionally elicit negative feedback in order to direct attention and behavior (e.g., a pianist practicing with a metronome). To summarize, clear goals, optimal challenges, and clear, immediate feedback are all necessary features of activities that promote the intrinsically rewarding experiential involvement that characterizes flow. Of course, this is not to say that these are the only factors that affect the degree to which one becomes involved in an activity. Research on task involvement suggests that the importance an individual places on doing well in an activity (i.e., "competence valuation") predicts the individual's involvement in that activity (Greenwald, 1982; Harackiewicz & Elliot, 1998; Harackiewicz & Manderlink, 1984), as does the congruence between task-specific, behaviorally based goals (e.g., "I want to attach a flag to my car's antenna") and higher level, more abstract goals (e.g., "I want to show my pa- triotism"), with greater congruence leading to greater involvement (Harackiewicz & Elliot, 1998; Rathunde, 1989; Šansone, Sachau, Sc Weir, 1989). Furthermore, the personal implications an individual attributes to success or failure at an activity can affect his or her interpretation of performance feedback, which in turn has consequences for task involvement (Mueller & Dweck, 1998). With respect to individual differences, Wong (2000) found that autonomy orientation (Deci & Ryan, 1985) was positively related to involvement in school-related activities; absorption (Tellegen & Atkinson, 1974), a trait construct used to measure hypnotic susceptibility, and conceptually related to openness to experience, has been shown to be positively associated with experiential involvement (Glisky, Tataryn, Tobias, Kihlstrom, Sc McConkey, 1991; Levin Sc Fireman, 2001; Wild, Kuiken, & Schopflocher, 1995). FLOW AND MOTIVATION Theories of motivation generally neglect the phenomenology of the person to whom motivation is being attributed. They explain the reason for action in functional terms, that is, by considering outcomes rather than processes (Šansone Sc Harackiewicz, 1996). How the person feels while acting tends to be ignored. Yet individuals constantly evaluate their quality of experience and often will decide to continue or terminate a given behavioral sequence based on their evaluations. Our research suggests that the phenomenological experience of flow is a powerful motivating force. When individuals are fully involved in an activity, they tend to find the activity enjoyable and intrinsically rewarding. Whatever the original motivation for playing chess or playing the stock market, or going out with a friend, such activities will not continue unless they are enjoyable—or unless people are motivated by extrinsic rewards. Flow and Competence Motivation Perceived competence has traditionally played a central part in theories of motivation (Bandura, 1982; Deci, 1975; Harter, 1978; White, 1959). These theories gener- 32. Flow 603 ally argue that intrinsic motivation is promoted by feelings of competence and efficacy. In support of this, several researchers have found that positive competence feedback is positively related to subsequent motivation to perform an activity (Deci, 1971; Elliot et aí., 2000; Fisher, 1978; Harackiewicz, 1979; Ryan, 1982; Vallerand &c Reid, 1984). These findings are consistent with past research on flow. Our studies have found that actors who perceive that they lack the skills to take on effectively the challenges presented by the activity in which they are participating experience anxiety or boredom, depending on how much they value doing well in the activity (Csikszentmihalyi Sc LeFevre, 1989; Csikszentmihalyi Sc Naka-mura, 1989; Csikszentmihalyi, Rathunde, Sc Whalen, 1993). Simply put, if an actor feels incompetent in a given situation, he or she will tend not be motivated. However, our research also suggests that although perceived competence seems to be an important precondition for intrinsic motivation, it is often not a predominating characteristic of the phenomenological experience associated with intrinsically motivated behavior. More specifically, much of the reward of intrinsically motivated behavior is derived from the experience of absorption and interest, the epitome of which is flow. Consider the following example: A person picks up a novel to read. As she begins reading it, she senses that her abilities are not up to the task, that the material is too complex for her to appreciate fully. Feeling unable to take on the challenges of the book because her skills are lacking, she will experience anxiety or boredom, and will probably opt for a less demanding novel or activity. However, if she feels that the complexities of the book are within her capacities and is able to digest the material, her decision either to continue reading the novel or to put it down will be based primarily on her quality of experience while reading the book, namely, the extent to which she finds the book involving and interesting. Emergent Motivation The phenomenology of flow further suggests that we may enjoy a particular activity because of something discovered through the interaction. It is commonly reported, for instance, that a person is at first indifferent or bored by a certain activity, such as listening to classical music or using a computer. Then, when the opportunities for action become clearer or the individual's skills improve, the activity begins to be interesting and, finally, enjoyable. It is in this sense that the rewards of these types of intrinsically motivating activities are "emergent" or a priori unpredictable. The phenomenon of emergent motivation means that we can come to experience a new or previously unengaging activity as intrinsically rewarding, if we find flow in it. The motivation to persist in or return to the activity arises out of the experience itself. What happens next is responsive to what happened immediately before, within the interaction, rather than being dictated by a preexisting intentional structure located within either the person (e.g., a goal or drive) or the environment (e.g., a tradition, script, or set of rules). The flow experience is thus a force for expansion in relation to the individual's goal and interest structure, as well as for the growth of skills in relation to an existing interest (Csikszentmihalyi Sc Nakamura, 1999). Certain technologies become successful at least in part because they provide flow, thus motivating people to use them. A good example is the Internet, developed with funds made available by the U.S. Department of Defense for purposes of national security. This technology has been adapted to all sorts of unexpected uses and has made possible an enormous variety of unpredicted experiences. It partly accounts, for instance, for the spectacular success of the Linux open system software, where tens of thousands of amateur and professional programmers work hard to come up with new software for the sheer delight of solving a problem, and for being appreciated by respected peers. In the process, Linux has been making headway against much more formidable competitors, such as Microsoft, who have to pay their programmers to write software—a clear example of emergent intrinsic rewards actually trumping extrinsic rewards. In summary, quality of experience is the proximal cause of intrinsically motivated behavior. When an individual begins, continues, or ends an activity that is not motivated 604 VI. SELF-REGULATORY PROCESSES by extrinsic rewards, such decisions are based primarily on the current or anticipated enjoyment accompanying the activity. In this context, both motivation and goals are emergent, in the sense that they are determined by the actor's moment-to-moment experience. Is deep experiential involvement a prerequisite for intrinsically motivated behavior? Clearly, it is not. As past research on the structure of affect has demonstrated, positive affect can be in the form of both high-and low-activation positive affect (Tellegen, Watson, Sc Clark, 1999). Whereas flow represents a state of high-activation positive affect, it contrasts sharply with low-activation positive affect, which is associated with states such as relaxation and contentment. It is consistent with current understandings of evolution to suppose that both of these strategies for coping with the environment, one conservative and the other expansive, were selected over time as important components of the human behavioral repertoire, even though they motivate different—in some sense, opposite—behaviors. Yet because it is only during states of high activation that we are pushed to expand our existing capacities, flow is particularly important to understand given the implications it has for personal growth. FLOW AND COMPETENCE-RELEVANT OUTCOMES High levels of both mental and physical performance usually depend on goal-directed attention produced by specific challenges and clear feedback (Locke, Shaw, Saari, Sc Latham, 1981). It is therefore not surprising that a host of studies have found a strong positive relationship between flow and performance. For example, flow is positively associated with artistic and scientific creativity (e.g., Perry, 1999; Sawyer, 1992), effective teaching (Csikszentmihalyi, 1996), learning (Csikszentmihalyi et al., 1993), and peak performance in sports (Jackson, Thomas, Marsh, Sc Smethurst, 2002; Stein, Kimiecik, Daniels, Sc Jackson, 1995). Perhaps more compelling than situation-ally based positive outcomes, however, are the developmental implications of the flow model. As individuals master challenges in an activity, they develop greater levels of skill, and the activity ceases to be as involving as before. To continue experiencing flow, they must identify increasingly greater challenges. Thus, over time, the balance between challenges and skills enhances competence. Experiential goals thus introduce a principle of selection into psychological functioning that fosters growth and stretches a person's existing capacities (cf. Vygotsky, 1978). This positive relationship between flow and skill development has been demonstrated in a number of studies that have used the experience sampling method (Csikszentmihalyi 8c" Larson, 1984) to examine the phenomenological experience of students within school settings. In longitudinal research with talented adolescents, students still committed to pursuing their talent area at age 17 were compared to peers who had already disengaged. Four years earlier, those who were still committed had experienced more flow and less anxiety than their peers while engaged in school-related activities; they were also more likely to have identified their talent area as a source of flow (Csikszentmihalyi et al., 1993). In a longitudinal study of students talented in mathematics, Heine (1996) showed that those who experienced flow in the first part of the course performed better in the second half, controlling for their initial abilities and grade point average (GPA). Also controlling for initial abilities, Wong and Csikszentmihalyi (1991) found that immediate, experience-based motivation was a better predictor of the difficulty level of classes that students subsequently chose than their motivation to achieve long-term academic goals. Longitudinal research on resilience suggests that, in addition to enhancing positive outcomes, a subjectively optimal matching of challenge and skill in daily life may protect against negative outcomes (Schmidt, 1999). In a national sample of American adolescents, teenagers who had experienced high adversity at home and/or at school but had access to extracurricular and other challenging activities, and who were involved in these activities and felt successful when engaged in them, were much less likely to have problems years later. 32. Flow 605 FLOW AND SPECIES-LEVEL DEVELOPMENT Flow and the Evolution of Consciousness Consciousness is the complex system that has evolved in humans for selecting, processing, and storing the profusion of information provided by the senses. Consciousness gives us a measure of control, freeing us from complete subservience to the dictates of genes and culture, by representing alternative courses of action in awareness, thereby introducing the alternative of rejecting rather than enacting them. It thus serves as a clutch between programmed instructions and adaptive behaviors (Csikszentmihalyi & Csikszentmihalyi, 1988). Alongside the genetic and cultural guides to action, it establishes a teleonomy of the self, a set of goals that have been freely chosen by the individual (cf. Brandstadter, 1998; Csikszentmihalyi Sc Massimini, 1985; Deci Sc Ryan, 1985). It might, of course, prove dangerous to disengage our behavior from direct control by the genetic and cultural instructions that have evolved over millennia of adapting to the environment. On the other hand, doing so may increase the chances for adaptive fit with the present environment, particularly under conditions of radical or rapid change. In order for consciousness to be used for such positive ends, however, a person must learn to enjoy being conscious. People value in principle but seldom resort to free choice, reflection, and the weighing of alternatives. As Dostoevsky eloquently described in his tale of the Grand Inquisitor, it is much easier to act in terms of habit and convention, relying on genetic and cultural programs, than to decide in terms of one's own experience. This is in part due to the fact that the skills for being conscious need to be cultivated, or the task will seem too daunting and thus produce anxiety. Our schools are geared to teach cognitive skills, but these do not necessarily develop the skill for being conscious. A young person needs to exercise freedom in the allocation of attention, the pursuit of interests, and the mastering of challenges; only then will he or she begin to enjoy being conscious. This opportunity is rarely present in the normal school environment—or even earlier, in the family environment of the young child. But unless we learn to enjoy using the mind freely, yet in an orderly fashion, the evolution of consciousness is going to be hampered. Flow and the Evolution of Culture Flow is not only an important mechanism in the development of the person, but it also plays an important role in the development of culture. As we mentioned earlier in discussing the successful spread of the Linux open software system, new technologies, beliefs, lifestyles—and even political systems— are often adopted or rejected on the basis of whether they enhance or diminish the probability of producing flow. Professor Fausto Massimini of the University of Milan was the first scholar to realize the potential of flow to explain the selection of new cultural artifacts, or "memes" (Csikszentmihalyi ÔC Massimini, 1985; Inghilleri, 1999; Massimini, Csikszentmihalyi, Sc Delle Fave, 1988). Essentially, the likelihood that a new idea, product, or process will survive over time is a function of the attention it attracts. A song, a scientific theory, or a religious system will be remembered and transmitted to the next generation only if some people pay attention to it. And people will pay attention in large part because the new meme provides an enjoyable challenge. This is clearly the case in the advancement of science. Thomas Kuhn (1970) describes how by focusing attention upon a small range of relatively esoteric problems, scientists are able to delve in greater depth and detail into their investigations, and thereby advance their field. Yet such focused attention cannot be sustained unless there are interesting problems that challenge the scientist. If there are none, the paradigm becomes boring, and the field disappears for lack of young recruits who are attracted to a different field by more interesting problems. The same holds true for art, according to Collingwood (1938) and Martindale (1990). More generally, any field of creative accomplishment requires concentrated attention, to the exclusion of all other stimuli, which temporarily become irrelevant (Csikszentmihalyi, 1975; Getzels & Csikszentmihalyi, 606 VI. SELF-REGULATORY PROCESSES 1976; Nakamura & Csikszentmihalyi, 2001). Yet one does not need to look at great accomplishments to realize this basic function of attention. More mundane work is just as dependent on it. In describing the workers that made industrialization possible at the dawn of capitalism, Max Weber (1930, p. 71) commented on the relationship between puritanical religious beliefs and training on the one hand, and productivity on the other: "The ability of mental concentration ... is here most often combined with ... a cool self-control and frugality which enormously increase performance. This creates the most favorable foundation for the conception of labor as an end in itself." The late Roman Empire, the last decades of Byzantium, and the French court in the second half of the 18th century are only a few of the most notorious examples of what can happen when large segments of society fail to find enjoyment in productive life. To provide such experiences, the rulers of society had to resort to increasingly elaborate and expensive means of control and repression, or else artificial stimulations—circuses, chariot races, balls, and hunts—that drain the attention of a passive population without leaving any useful residue. Whenever a society is unable to provide flow experiences in productive activities, its members will find flow in activities that are either wasteful or actually disruptive. CONCLUSIONS The ability to enjoy challenges and then master them is a fundamental metaskill that is essential to individual development and to cultural evolution. Yet many obstacles prevent individuals from experiencing flow. These range from inherited genetic malfunctions to forms of social oppression that reduce personal freedom and prevent the acquisition of skills. But even in the most benign situations, flow may be difficult to attain. For instance, in our society at present, most parents are determined to provide the best conditions for their children's future happiness. They work hard, so that they can buy a nice home in the suburbs, get all the consumer goods they can afford, and send the children to the best schools possible. Unfortunately, none of this guarantees that the children will get what they need to learn in order to enjoy life. In fact, a growing number of studies suggests that excessive concern for safety, comfort, and material well-being is detrimental to optimal development (Csikszentmihalyi & Hunter, 2003; Kasser & Ryan, 1993; Schmuck & Sheldon, 2001). 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The role of absorption in experiential involvement. Journal of Personality and Social Psychology, 69(3), 569-579. Wong, M. (2000). The relations among causality orientations, academic experience, academic performance, and academic commitment. Personality and Social Psychology Bulletin, 26(3), 315-326. Wong, M., & Csikszentmihalyi, M. (1991). Motivation and academic achievement: The effects of personality traits and the quality of experience. Journal of Personality, 59(3), 539-574. CREATIVITY CHAPTER 33 OS Motivation, Competence, and Creativity MARK A. RUNCO Creative potential is one of the most important forms of human capital. The benefits for both individuals and societies are easy to see. It contributes to advances in science and technology, for instance, and provides us with many kinds of pleasure and satisfaction (e.g., the arts and entertainment). Creativity is, however, a slippery concept. It takes different forms in different domains, for example, and at different points in the lifespan. It appears that different paths can each lead to creative work; none of them is always necessary or always guarantees creative results. Those studying creativity capture these variations by defining creativity as a "complex" or syndrome (MacKinnon, 1965; Mumford & Gustafson, 1988; Runco & Albert, 1990). But briefly, creativity is a blend of cognitive, metacogni-tive, emotional, and motivational components. Motivation is recognized in virtually all contemporary definitions of creativity. In fact, it has long been recognized: Galton (1869) emphasized the incredible persistence of the geniuses he studied, as did Cox (1926). Creativity does differ in some ways in the arts and sciences, and in various other domains, but motivation is a factor in each. Creative potential is not be fulfilled unless the individual (and his or her social support) is motivated to do so, and creative solutions are not found unless the individual is motivated to apply his or her skills. This chapter explores the role of motivation in creative efforts. This is in some ways not only a review of the literature on motivation and creativity but also an examination of how competence can play a role in creative work, and how creative competence may differ from the motivations that characterize most other human behaviors. Many human behaviors—and especially those of older and mature individuals—are directed toward the conservation of resources (e.g., energy) and, thus, toward efficiency. We develop routines, for example, to make our lives easier. Creative behavior is typically very different. Frequently, creative inventions make our lives easier, but the discovery of the necessary technologies may require a huge amount of effort and avoidance of routine. Creative behavior is not necessarily efficient behavior, nor is it even always adap- 609 610 VI. SELF-REGULATORY PROCESSES tive (Richards, 1990; Runco, 1994a), and the motivations to act in a creative fashion or develop competencies for creative work are similarly unique. WHAT MOTIVATES THE CREATIVE PERSONľ "What motivates the creative person? Certainly it depends to some extent on the person, the context, and the domain in which the person is interested and perhaps working. There is some evidence that extrinsic incentives can influence creative work. That influence can work both ways, sometimes encouraging creative efforts, and sometimes undermining them. Useful research on extrinsic factors is summarized in the next section of this chapter. After that, the research on intrinsic motives is reviewed, along with the theories that take both intrinsic and extrinsic factors into account. Throughout the discussion, connections to the achievement motivation and competence are explored. EXTRINSIC INCENTIVES AND REWARDS Operant theorists have addressed the question of motivation and creativity, and they emphasize extrinsic and environmental factors. They also insist on operationalizing the terms such that everything is overt and highly objective. Creativity per se is not the typical target here, for it is not entirely objective, so the focus is usually on related behaviors, such as novelty or variation, or perhaps insight (Epstein, 1990; Skinner, 1939). Each of these is indeed clearly related to originality and creativity, so the results are interesting and pertinent. The emphasis is on the environment; it is the environment that motivates (or at least elicits and controls) creative behavior. It may be difficult to see how creative and original things can be controlled, in part because the target behavior must change. After all, if one specific behavior is targeted, it will not be original for very long! It will only be original the first time it is displayed. For this reason, these efforts use shaping and contingencies and target behavioral variation (Ryan & Winston, 1978; Stokes, in press; Stokes & Balsam, in press). The organism is thus reinforced only when it emits a behavior that has not been displayed previously. The organisms in this research are not always humans. Pryor, Hoag, and O'Reilly (1969), for example, reinforced the leaping and swimming of porpoises. They targeted responses that were novel for any one particular training session. Findings indicated that the porpoises emitted novel behaviors in each new session, and did so earlier and earlier in the session. Goetz and Baer (1973; Holman, Goetz, & Baer, 1977) used analogous procedures with children. The work of Holman et al. (1977) demonstrated that novel behaviors can not only be controlled with extrinsic consequences but also that they generalize across tasks. Epstein (1990) held a similar perspective but was interested in new insights rather than continued variation. Seemingly creative solutions to problems are often labeled "insightful," the idea being that trial and error was not used, and that the individual seemed to have jumped all at once to a solution— the "Aha!" or insight (Gruber, 1981). Epstein (1990) demonstrated that insightful problem solving can be shaped. The shaping focuses on specific and discrete behaviors, and when the organism is placed in the problem situation, it tends to "integrate spontaneously" the previously learned discrete behaviors, the result being a new composite that may appear to be insightful. In this line of work, the behavior is emitted in order to (1) earn a reinforcer or to (2) avoid a punisher. The implication is that some behaviors, including insightful and creative, may be efforts to approach a goal or reinforcer, and some may be efforts to avoid an aversive situation or punisher (Elliot, 1997). I have more to say later about the distinction between approach and avoidance behaviors. First it is useful to consider the psychoeconomic theory of creativity and motivation, because it in some ways parallels the operant view. Rubenson and Runco (1992, 1995) relied on the concept of investments in their explanation of why creative persons work to develop competencies. Many creative persons invest heavily in their creative potentials and competencies, with some investing in tradi- 33. Motivation, Competence, and Creativity 611 tional competencies, and others investing in competencies that no one else will notice or appreciate. If creative talent is defined such that it depends on original contributions to a field, then it is likely that traditional competencies have been developed, perhaps in addition to creative competencies. This applies to some fields—especially the highly technical ones—more than others. It explains why we do not see prodigies in some fields, such as physics, but we do see them regularly in others (e.g., music). If traditional competencies must be mastered before high-level performance is possible, and if the field has a large amount of material to be mastered, it is impossible for there to be prodigies. Time is necessary to develop the relevant competencies, and after that time has been invested, the individual is no longer a child (thus, not a prodigy). Investments in traditional competencies can facilitate creative work. Most eminent creators have invested huge amounts of time and energy in their fields, and as a result, are able to see where gaps exist and to know a good problem or creative solution when they see one. Hayes (1978) went so far as to estimate that 10,000 hours must be invested to develop expertise (also see Simon & Chase, 1973). The 10,000-hour estimate may not apply to all domains, however; in fact, it certainly is a generalization. Importantly, expertise does not guarantee creative performance, and sometimes experts actually become rigid and inflexible, thus losing the capacity for creativity. They are competent in a traditional fashion but not in a creative fashion. Such is the cost of expertise. (A parallel with the operant view is apparent: Behavior in the psychoeconomic perspective responds to costs and benefits; much operant behavior responds to reinforc-ers and punishers.) Significantly, the more the individual has invested, the more he or she has to lose. If an individual invests a dollar in something, and then loses it, it may not seem very tragic. If, on the other hand, a million dollars is invested instead of one dollar, the individual will certainly feel more strongly about the investment. A loss would be much more costly. Similarly, if an individual invests a few hours in developing a competence but that competence becomes obsolete, not much will have been lost. But when one's entire career is devoted to (invested in) some specific expertise or field, losses are extremely costly, and strong resistance to criticisms of that field or competence are likely. This would apply to the scientist who devotes (invests) all of his or her career into one topic. If people criticize it after the scientist has invested 30 years, the scientist is likely to resist suggestions of an alternative perspective. This is very relevant, because resistance implies a lack of flexibility, and flexibility is characteristic of creative work (Hofstadter, 1986; Runco, 1995). Many individuals do indeed become more rigid and less flexible as they get older (Chown, 1961). The most interesting implication of this psychoeconomic theory is that individuals who have invested greatly in one style or perspective (e.g., a scientist who has spent years developing one theory or model) will be motivated to justify its usage. If his or her pet model were replaced, the scientist's investment (temporal and psychical) would depreciate. Note that it is essentially linear: the greater the investment, the higher the motivation to avoid depreciation. Experts would thus be highly motivated in a particular fashion, as would anyone who has devoted years to a topic or model or perspective. Note also that this prediction about experts' motives is not necessarily consistent with the idea of competence. The expert may reject new data or opportunities, or anything that is contrary to his or her investment, even if objectively they seem to lead in a useful direction. The inflexibility of some older adults makes it very difficult for them perform in a creative manner. Not all older adults become rigid, however. As a matter of fact, many famous creative individuals have demonstrated outstanding flexibility late in life. The "old-age style" of certain famous painters, for example, involves flexibility, in that the painter changes his or her painting technique, often repeatedly. As a result, there are dramatic changes in the work, and often renewed creativity. Very likely these changes reflect a change not only in perspective but also in competence. New competencies are no doubt required each time the painter changes his or her technique. 612 VI. SELF-REGULATORY PROCESSES CREATIVE WORK AND PERSONAL STANDARDS It is critical to distinguish between personal and traditional competencies, or between competencies that reflect personal versus social standards. As Elliot (1999) wrote: Competence must be evaluated according to a standard, and three primary standards may be identified: an absolute standard inherent in a task, skill, or characteristic; an intrapersonal standard implicating a pattern observed in the past or that could be observed in the future; and an interpersonal standard implicating normative comparison, (p. 183 ) Sometimes a conflict in standards occurs. Apparently the standards encouraged in the school, for instance, conflict with those (intrapersonal standards) held by the student. Creative children do not share many traits with what teachers tend to consider "the ideal student" (Raina & Raina, 1971; Torrance, 1963). The conflict may be between the standards encouraged in the home and those required in the schools (Roe, 1963). Sadly, traditional education does often encourage noncreative competencies. Rubenson and Runco (1995) explained this in terms of the different manifest benefits of the different competencies. Suppose an employer interviews someone who has a Master's degree in the most relevant field. That employer will have a pretty good idea about what that job applicant knows and can do. There would be a fairly certain "return" if that applicant were hired. What if the applicant had invested the same amount of time as that required for a Master's degree in the study and practice of creative skills? In many fields, creativity is appreciated, but the return on the investment is much less certain. The interviewer may not be willing to take a risk on this applicant, and the risk would be greater. It is not unlike the risks that characterize "guaranteed interest" stocks versus, say, "aggressive stocks." This difference can in turn influence what decisions will be made by applicants and students. They know there is a likely payoff if they stay in school. They do not know what the payoff will be if they invest instead in any sort of creativity development program. Rubenson and Runco (1995) concluded that the United States is very likely underinvesting in the creative competencies of its students. INTRINSIC MOTIVATION FOR CREATIVE EFFORT Most theories of creativity emphasize intrinsic rather than extrinsic motivation. This in part reflects a tendency in the creativity literature to focus on the individual. The preponderance of theories of creativity assumes that creativity is a result of individual effort. There are theories that also acknowledge, or even emphasize, social and historical context (e.g., Amabile, 1990; Csikszentmihalyi, 1990; Montuori & Purser, 1999; Simonton, 1984), and in fact this may be a trend in the creativity literature toward social and contextual theories. But for most of its history as a scientific field, the focus in creativity literature has been on the individual. The more precise focus is usually personality. Barron (1972, 1995) and MacKinnon (1960/1983, 1970), for instance, administered a number of personality (and intelligence) tests to several different samples of creative individuals (including writers and architects); they identified intrinsic motivation as what is now often called a "core characteristic" of creative people. Not long ago Dudek and Hall (1991) reported results from a longitudinal study involving many of the same research participants who had been involved 40 years earlier. Dudek and Hall used the Adjective Checklist and also found that intrinsic motivation characterizes the more creative individuals. Amabile and her colleagues (1990; Amabile, Goldfarb, & Brackfield, 1990; Hennessey, 1969) examined the relationship between intrinsic motivation and creativity using more experimental procedures and looking more at actual performance rather than at personality traits. They reported both (1) value in allowing individuals to rely on intrinsic motivation and (2) an inhibitive effect of extrinsic rewards. The inhibitive factors included evaluations by others and expected evaluations by others. They took the next logical step and identified the means to "immunize" individuals to the "deleterious effect of extrinsic incentives." Obviously, this line of research is of huge practical value. 33. Motivation, Competence, and Creativity 613 Amabile (1990) defined "intrinsic motivation" as "the motivation to do an activity for its own sake, because it was intrinsically interesting, enjoyable, or satisfying. In contrast "extrinsic motivation" was defined as "the motivation to do an activity primarily to achieve some extrinsic goal, such as a reward" (p. 62). Intrinsic motivation comes from within the individual; extrinsic motivation is imposed or offered by the environment. The latter may include rewards, rein-forcers, punishers, incentives, feedback, and so on. In Amabiie's (1990) words, Intrinsic motivation is conducive to creativity, but extrinsic motivation is detrimental. In other words people will be most creative when they feel motivated primarily by the interest, enjoyment, satisfaction, and challenge of the work itself—and not by external pressures, (p. 67) Amabile supported this conclusion in various ways, including examination of biographies, autobiographies, interviews, journals, and personal letters (e.g., Gertrude Stein, Isaac Asimov, John Irving, Albert Einstein, James Watson, Mozart, Pablo Casals, Ansel Adams, Margaret Mead, Woody Allen, Anne Sexton, Sylvia Plath, D. H. Lawrence, Joyce Carol Oates, and Thomas Wolfe). Her experimental evidence was most impressive. Here, she cited earlier research on "over-justification." O ver justification occurs when individuals who are initially intrinsically motivated lose that intrinsic interest when given an extrinsic reason for behaving in a particular fashion or performing in a particular way. It is as though the individuals stop attributing interest to the task and start attributing their activity to the incentives and the rewards. Again, by way of a conclusion, Amabile felt that her research as a whole supported the following conclusions: Expected evaluation is detrimental to creativity; actual evaluation is detrimental to creativity; surveillance is detrimental to creativity; reward, or what she called "contracted for" reward, is detrimental to creativity; bonus rewards, which are not contracted for, have a positive influence on creativity; competition has a detrimental effect on creativity; and a restricted choice, particularly about how to proceed with an activity, has a detrimental affect on creativity. Notice that these factors are social in nature. Amabiie's work has a connection to and clear implications for a social psychology of creativity. In one early study, Amabile (1990) presented research participants with a questionnaire that led half of the sample to think about the intrinsic reasons for a particular task. The other half of the sample received a questionnaire that led them to think of the extrinsic reasons. The questionnaire was used for a kind of priming. Participants each had experience and interest in creative writing. Most of them were graduate and undergraduate students in the Boston area. Apparently none were professional writers, or at least the self-reported amount of time spent each week writing only ranged from 3 to 18 hours. This is an important point, because the biographical evidence for intrinsic motivation, mentioned briefly earlier, dealt with well-known and professional individuals. The evidence would add to the credibility and validity of the intrinsic motivation principle if it were also found to characterize the creativity of noneminent and nonprofessional individuals. Participants who received the questionnaire that emphasized intrinsic interest were later asked to write a haiku-style poem. The poems were subsequently judged, using a consensual assessment technique, to be much more creative than those written by a control group. (The control group had not received a questionnaire; they had simply written the haiku.) This difference apparently was not statistically significant. The dramatic finding was between the experimental group, who had received the intrinsic interest questionnaire, and the participants who had received the questionnaire that emphasized extrinsic motives and goals, including selling their work, making money, and public recognition. The haikus of this group were significantly less creative than those of the experimental or control group. In addition to demonstrating that intrinsic motivation is important for nonprofessionals, this study is noteworthy in that the manipulation is quite simple. Apparently, the questionnaire, though quite brief, was sufficient to change the quality of the subjects' haikus. Amabile (1990) suggested that the value of intrinsic motivation depends on the task 614 VI. SELF-REGULATORY PROCESSES at hand. Consider her distinction between algorithmic and heuristic tasks. Algorithmic tasks have clear solution procedures (the algorithms), which, if used, always lead to a correct solution. Heuristic tasks allow exploration. Sometimes that exploration does not lead to the correct solution. Because there is opportunity for individual input, exploration, and creativity in a heuristic task, intrinsic motivation plays a larger role than it does in algorithmic tasks. Amabile (1990) also cited Csikszentmihalyi's (1975) work on enjoyment as influencing her thinking about creativity and intrinsic motivation. Csikszentmihalyi also found that individuals became highly involved in creative tasks. He described the experience of flow as a kind of peak involvement. When experiencing flow, an individual would not be thinking about rewards, objectives, or anything extrinsic. It is a very intrinsically meaningful experience. Individuals can experience flow in a variety of settings, although some—rock climbing for example—are more conducive to flow than others. These ideas about flow are entirely consistent with other reports of the psychic underpinnings of creative moments (e.g., Hoppe & Kyle, 1991), though flow is a description of peak experiences and not necessarily tied to creativity. Still, data from both personality and laboratory experimental research support the importance of intrinsic motivation in the creative process. There is also a cogent logic behind this perspective. It is easy to see how creativity, by its very nature, would depend on intrinsic motivation, and how it can be adversely influenced by extrinsic factors. Put briefly, creativity depends on originality. Creative behaviors and products are always original; originality is necessary but not sufficient. It is not sufficient because sometimes original endeavors are bizarre, inappropriate, and do not solve the problem at hand (if the creative work is an attempt to solve a problem). Sometimes endeavors are original precisely because they are inappropriate! Creative behaviors and products (including works of art, publications, performances, or simply ideas) are both original and useful. They fit, sometimes in the sense of solving a problem, but other times in the sense of their aesthetic appeal. Originality is the key here, because it is the only aspect of creativity on which every- one agrees. It also ties creativity to intrinsic motivation, that is because original things are different, unique, unusual, or novel. And being unique, unusual, or novel in turn assumes that the individual is capable, or even interested in, being unconventional. As a matter of fact, creative persons are often described as unconventional (Runco, 1993a), oppositional (Ludwig, 1995), nonconforming (Crutchfield, 1962), eccentric (Weeks & James, 1995), or contrarian (Runco, 1993a). Each of these suggests an independence of thought and motivation. Creative individuals do seem to be highly motivated, and some are interested in some sorts of extrinsic goals. Moreover, creative persons do sometimes achieve great things, and achievement can be a powerful goal and influence motivation. Yet the term "achievement motivation" is not very often found in the creativity literature. This may reflect the typical conception of "achievement" as tied to public recognition (or at least recognition in some overt way). Achievement motivation defined in that fashion has not contributed much to the understanding of creative efforts, which tend to be intrinsically motivated instead (Amabile, 1990; MacKinnon, 1970; Runco, 1994a). The creative individual very likely is motivated more by intrapersonal standards than by social achievement. Creative persons are notorious for ignoring the social implications of their actions or work; many of them are rebellious, nonconforming, eccentric, contrarian, or at least unconventional. Some blatantly ignore acclaim, success, or any sort of objective or public result. There is not much on creativity and achievement motivation in the research literature; but a great deal can be found if "achievement" is defined in intrapersonal terms. Achievement implies the attainment of some goal or goals, but those goals may be intrinsic rather than extrinsic. Similarly, achievement may be gauged against certain standards, but these may be personal rather than social standards. This is actually quite consistent with current views of competence and motivation. Elliot and McGregor (2001), for example, raised the possibility that achievement motivation can sometimes be best understood in terms of task-based intrapersonal and intrapersonal goals. This definitely applies to creativity. Elliot and McGregor (2001) 33. Motivation, Competence, and Creativity 615 further distinguished between task-based/ "self-defining" intrapersonal accomplishment and normative accomplishment. This helps bring creativity under the umbrella of behaviors that might be tied to certain achievement motivations. The research on creativity indicates that we must allow for self-defined goals. Creative work is rarely directed to normative accomplishments. At least one empirical study of creative talent distinguished between social and individual achievement motivation. Albert and Runco (in press) studied exceptionally gifted boys and their parents. One of the ways that the participants in this research—both the boys and the parents—differed from norms was in "achievement through independence." Actually, the boys and their parents had much higher scores than are usual on the "achievement through independence" scale of the California Psychological Inventory (CPI), and they had significantly lower scores than the normative groups in terms of "achievement though conformity." This fits extremely well with the creativity literature, for creative persons are usually independent. It is difficult to be creative without being independent, because creativity requires originality, and originality can be found through independent thoughts and actions. Originality cannot be found through conformity. As a matter of fact, originality is just about the opposite of the normative. This research demonstrates that we can identify the motivational characteristics of talented persons, but we should focus on the kind of motivation that is required for creative behavior. At the very least, we need to distinguish between achievement through independence and achievement through conformity. Additional support for this was given by Gough and Bradley (1999), who found that achievement through independence scores correlated with Barron Welsh Art Scale scores. DOMAINS OF PERFORMANCE Here, I must revisit the concept of domains. Differences among domains have been recognized in the creativity literature for as long as it has existed. Patrick (1935, 1937), for example, studied poets, and earlier in this chapter, Barron (1972, 1995), Mac- Kinnon (1960/1983, 1970), and the research with writers and architects were each cited. More recently Albert (1980) and Runco (1987) identified domain differences among gifted children, and, at this point, researchers are looking not only at general domains but also subdomains (e.g., writers of fiction vs. journalists, composers vs. performers). There is a minor controversy about domains (Baer, 1991; Plucker, 2000), with some believing that there is a general capacity that applies to all expressions of creativity, across all domains, and others (the majority) believing that creative skills vary from one domain to the next. Elliot and Dweck (Chapter 1, this volume, p. 4) addressed the domain issue when they described how most research in the achievement motivation literature has emerged from Western, individualistic societies. ... As a result, more often than not, research in the achievement motivation literature has focused on individual, self-defining, normative accomplishment in the domains of school, sports, and work. Creativity often occurs outside of the prototypical domains. The achievement motivation of a creative person, then, may be directed at goals in some marginal domain, or in some domain that is not popular or conventional. This makes it difficult to judge competence. Similarly, it may be a competence that has value only to the individual. Others may see neither the value nor the creativity. Creativity is frequently difficult to judge, and errors in judgment abound (Runco, 1999a). Decca Records apparently refused to sign the Beatles in 1963; Capitol Records did the same in 1964. Alfred Harcourt, of Harcourt Brace Jovanavich, told the publisher of The Sound and the Fury that he was "the only damn fool in New York that would publish it" (Cerf & Navasky, 1984, p. 160). The author, William Faulker, won a Nobel Prize for literature in 1949. Jan Lievens and Adrien va der Werff were much more respected than Rembrandt in their era. Picasso's painting was described in 1907 as "the work of a madman" by Vollard, a highly reputable art dealer. The list of misjudgments is extensive (see Runco, 1999a) and it has even been said that truly creative things, be they works of 616 VI. SELF-REGULATORY PROCESSES music, the visual arts, or science, can never be recognized at first. They are creative, and thus original and difficult to judge. There are no standards if something is new. Again, quoting Elliot and Dweck (2004): Competence is a flexible construct that may be conceptualized at different levels (e.g., specific outcomes, patterns of skills or abilities), using different standards (intrapersonal, interpersonal), with different loci (individual, collective), and in relation to different domains (e.g., academic, athletic). This works well for creativity, with the recognition of the intrapersonal and individual standards and loci, and the allowance for domain differences. Creative people, for example, sometimes focus on one topic or technique, producing a series of very similar works. These works may even appear to be identical to observers, the revisions are so subtle. Gruber (1988) referred to this as "deviation amplification" and described the benefits to the creative person. The point is that a creative individual could spend years refining his or her ability at capturing "reflections on a pond" in watercolor—and only feel competent once that particular skill was perfected (to his or her own liking). In summary, the skill in question, or the topic and project in question, or even the domain that determines the creative person's sense of competence may not be appreciated by anyone else, at least at first. PRODUCT VERSUS PROCESS This description of the intrapersonal nature of competence is consistent with existing assumptions in the field of creative studies. If the last phrase in the previous section, "at least at first," were omitted, on the other hand, the description would be very controversial. Studies of creativity have become extremely objective and product-oriented, and the more rigorous theories do not label personal efforts "creative." They reserve that for actual products that have impressed some qualified audience. There are problems with this product-oriented perspective, and implications for theories of creative motivation. Process-oriented perspectives of creativity and the recent the- ory of "personal creativity" are much more amenable to the view of achievement motivation, which allows individualistic goals. The most influential theory of the creative process is an old one. In this theory, the creative process begins with a preparation stage, then moves to incubation, illumination, and verification stages. Although quite old by the standards of behavioral science, this theory has been supported and is still very widely used (see Runco, 1994b). It does not, however, include any extracognitive influences on creative work. Runco and Chand (1995) presented a somewhat different theory of the creative process that does include motivational influences. This has been called a "componential model," of which there are several in the creativity literature (Amabile, 1990; Chand & Runco, 1992; Runco &c Chand, 1995; Sternberg, 2000). Runco and Chand (1995), for example, outlined what they call a two-tiered model. On the first tier are three primary components involved in the creative process. The first of these involves what is commonly called "problem finding," which is a general label for several subprocesses. Of particular importance are problem identification and problem definition. Problem identification is involved when an individual simply recognizes that there is a challenge, hurdle, or problem at hand. Problem definition occurs later and involves actually changing or altering the problem to make it workable. It is often obvious when someone has a problem, but the problem is not in a form that allows solution. That is where problem definition (and redefinition) comes in. These skills—problem identification and problem definition—could easily interact with various kinds of motivation. A problem might motivate an individual, or an individual might be disturbed, even in an ambiguous "free floating" fashion, and be motivated to identify exactly what the problem is or be motivated to define the problem in such a way as to facilitate its solution. This is the most important aspect of problem finding: It sets the stage for problem solving. It has been said a number of times that a high-quality and creative solution depends upon a high-quality problem. Empirical demonstrations of the distinctiveness of problem finding from problem solving and 33. Motivation, Competence, and Creativity 617 individual differences in problem finding were summarized by Runco (1994b). The second primary component in the two-tiered model involves ideation. Here again, it is important to subdivide: Ideation can vary in terms of fluency, originality, flexibility, and apparently in several other ways as well (Runco 1991, 2003}. Fluency, originality, and flexibility are the most commonly used indices of ideation. "Fluency" is defined in terms of productivity; high ideational fluency indicates that the individual generates many ideas. These ideas frequently represent the options and alternatives that are involved in problem solving. The ideas may represent alternative definitions of the problem, for example, or they may represent possible solutions. "Originality" is operationally defined in terms of the unusualness or uniqueness of ideas. Here, again, there are clear individual differences, and, of course, ideational originality would be the part of this model that is most directly related to creativity per se. This is because originality is a prerequisite for creativity. Creative things are often much more than original; they tend to be somehow fitting or aesthetically appealing; but originality is necessary for creativity even if it is not sufficient in and of itself. Motivation is necessary in that only a motivated individual will persist with a problem or problem-solving efforts. This is sometimes vital, especially when the problem solving efforts are protracted and extend over a long period of time (Gruber, 1988). As noted earlier in this chapter, originality is necessary but not sufficient for creativity. This is because original ideas may not be creative. They may be bizarre and irrelevant to the task at hand. In this case they are original, yet are not solutions, and they will certainly lack aesthetic appeal. What else is necessary for creativity besides originality? Again, aesthetic appeal and some sort of fit and appropriateness help, but this just begs the question. Where and why does an individual invest the effort in finding ideas and solutions that are both original and fitting? One answer to this question is given in the two-tiered componential model, and, in particular, in the third primary component. It involves a kind of judgment, evaluation, or appraisal. It is this skill that works with ide- ation to ensure that ideas are both original and fitting. This skill can be expressed in several ways, so it is not really one skill, but, again, that was true of problem finding and ideation, and would be no surprise here. One relevant kind of judgment involves evaluation and is probably closest to traditional forms of critical thinking. But too often this kind of judgment leads an individual to unoriginal ideas. The critical thinking is directed at criticism per se, and the focus is on what is wrong with an idea and how it is inadequate as a solution to a given problem. Creative thinking sometimes requires valuation rather than evaluation. This is because original ideas are appreciated. But because they are original, they may be surprising, or their adequacy and fit may be initially difficult to determine. The easy judgment would be to conclude that the ideas are inappropriate, but with persistent valuation, an individual may determine that the ideas are useful, or at least have potential. If they have potential, the individual might persist with the individual ideational path and eventually find highly creative ideas. Note again that all of this assumes that the individual is motivated to persist. Research suggests that the judgmental and valuative processes involved in creative thinking are distinct from traditional forms of critical thinking, as well as from IQ and similar measures of traditional intelligence (Runco & Smith, 1992}. This same research demonstrates clearly that IQ and traditional intelligence are by no means synonymous with creative thinking skills (Runco St Albert, 1986). The two-tiered componential model of the creative process posits motivation as an influence on creative thinking and problems solving. Both intrinsic and extrinsic motivation are included. The other secondary component in this model is knowledge. Knowledge can be declarative, which is conceptual and factual, or it can be procedural, which is strategic and tactical. Knowledge, of course, interacts with each of the other components. When generating ideas, for example, an individual often draw from long-term memory and his or her knowledge base, although the ideas may be generated though associative processes as well. Knowledge interacts with motivation in several ways. Motivated individuals may be interested in learning new procedures, as well as new factual informa- 618 VI. SELF-REGULATORY PROCESSES tion, especially if they realize that they need to be better informed in order to solve a problem. The interaction works the other way as well: An individual's work may lead to the recognition that there is some sort of deficiency or gap, and this gap in turn motivates the person to learn something new or think creatively. PERSONAL CREATIVITY AND INTENTIONS A second process view suggests an even closer relationship between achievement motivation and creativity. This is the recent theory of "personal creativity." Like componential theory, extracognitive influences are recognized. More specifically, the theory of personal creativity emphasizes the intentions of the creative person. Intentions represent one of the three parts of personal creativity, the other two being transformational capacity and discretion. Transformations are key in the sense that objective experience is interpreted by the individual, and, as is the case with all interpretations, there is a difference between subjective and objective experience. Objective experience is assimilated, or transformed, into something that is meaningful to the individual, which is why two individuals may have entirely different interpretations of one shared (objective) experience. Motivation may actually result from this process. This does represent yet another controversy: It is possible that understanding of experience is developed only if the individual is motivated to attend to details and assimilate the relevant information, but it is also possible that motivation is a result of a cognitive "appraisal" (Lazarus, 1991a, 1991b; Runco, 1994a; Zajonc, 1990). The controversy, then, is over which comes first, motivation or cognition (understanding). Piaget (1970, 1976) offered a very reasonable perspective and concluded that individuals are intrinsically motivated by the need to understand their experience. In other words, when we have an experience we do not understand, we are motivated to do something about it, and we often put effort into formulating a new interpretation or reinterpreting the experience, until we understand. Note that this occurs on a personal, individual basis. It is, then, intrinsic motivation. This is a critical point, because it means that the theory that uses transformation and interpretation is consistent with the various, numerous empirical demonstrations of the role of intrinsic motivation in creative work (Amabile, 1990; Barron, 1972,1995; Runco, 1993b, 1994a). Personal creativity also emphasizes intentions. The definition of "intention" assumed here is exactly the same as is implied by the expression, "I intend to mow the lawn." It is intentions that distinguish between creative accomplishments that are original and original things that are not creative. Originality is necessary but not sufficient for creativity, and sometimes things are original but lacking, unappealing, and uncreative. Psychotic individuals can be highly original, but they are rarely, if ever, truly creative in the sense of producing worthwhile ideas (Eysenck, 1999). Their originality is unintentional. The view that intentions play a role in creative work is also compatible with the corpus of research showing that creative individuals are highly strategic and tactical (Root-Bernstein, 1988; Runco, 1999b). The individual will not employ some tactic unless he or she is trying to (i.e., intending to) accomplish something. Tactics are by definition intentional. Not everyone agrees that intentions are important. Hofstadter (1986), for example, argued that creators can "exploit serendipity," but that most of the action is beyond control. In this view, intentions do not account for much. All an individual can do is "playfully explore a serendipitious connection" (p. 252). The connections themselves are out of the individual's control. Diaz de Chumaceiro (in press) has also described serendipity as a part of creative work. Intentions are also inconsistent with theories of creativity that emphasize the workings of the unconscious and the impact of psychic tension, conflict, trauma, or discontent (reviewed by Runco, 1994a, 1999c). This takes us to the role of psychological need. CREATIVITY AND PSYCHOLOGICAL NEED The theory of personal creativity just outlined assumes that we are intrinsically motivated to understand our experience. We con- 33. Motivation, Competence, and Creativity 619 struct interpretations of our experiences, and sometimes these may lead to creative solutions and insights. And, again, we put the effort into constructing interpretations, because it is adaptive to do so. Piaget (1970, 1976) suggested that understanding is a universal need. There may also be a psychological need to create, to behave in an autonomous and original fashion, and to express oneself. Indeed, Maslow (1971) and Rogers (1961) both reported that self-actualized individuals are creative, as well as spontaneous and self-accepting. In fact, toward the end of their careers, they both gave up trying to separate self-actualization from creativity. Maslow concluded that the two might be "inextricable." Runco, Ebersole, and Mraz (1991) reported correlational support for this view to complement the observational and clinical observations of Rogers and Maslow. Creative self-expression is also strongly related to physical health. Pennebaker, Kiecolt-Glaser, and Glaser (1997), for instance, found that the immune efficiency of student who were required to write several times each week (as part of a college course), and asked to write about their own lives, improved significantly (also see Eisenman, 1997). Members of a control group was also allowed to write, but they were given mundane assignments that precluded self-expression, or what Pennebaker et al. (1997) called "disclosure." The immune efficiency of the control group did not improve. There are, then, data that show that creative persons are healthy, both psychologically and physically. There are also data that suggest that creative persons have a tendency toward affective disorder and even suicide (Andreasen, 1997; Jamison, 1997). Perhaps there is one causal pathway leading from ill-health to creativity, and a second pathway leading from creativity to health. The former apparently can occur when there is excessive openness to preconscious material that frightens or depresses the person but at the same time provides him or her with original insights (Rothenberg, 1990). The latter may occur when creative insights and projects result from self-expression, and such self-expression provides the vent or catharsis that maintains health (Pennebaker et a!., 1997). If it is cathartic, the motivation may be a result of trauma experienced early in life. Csikszentmihalyi (1988) described this as "cathartic originality." He also described "abreactive creativity," which is the result of traumatic experiences from childhood. It can thus be difficult to ascertain what actually motivates creative work, because the result may be symbolic and temporally far removed from the cause. Even artists who are experiencing this abreactive creativity may themselves be uncertain of their motives (Jones, Runco, Dorinan, & Freeland, 1997). The creative person may appear to be motivated by competence per se, but may actually be motivated to develop that competence in order to deal effectively with the trauma. Competence in this light is not an end in and of itself, but is instead a means to an ends. The kind of creativity that is self-expressive is functionally tied to both psychological and physical health (Pennebaker et al., 1997; Runco et al., 1991). Perhaps there is a need for creative expression - that represents a basic human need, and when this need is unfulfilled, problems of various sorts (e.g., health) may result. That need for expression can lead to competence, but it is not a need for competence; it may instead be a need for expression. This is not too far from what Maslow (1971) and Rogers (1961) said about human need, self-actualization, and creativity. CONCLUSIONS Elliot and D week {Chapter 1, this volume, p. 6) proposed that "the need for competence . . . [is] a fundamental motivation [in all individuals] that serves the evolutionary role of helping people develop and adapt to their environment." I would add that adaptations and meaningful evolution will be especially likely if it is motivation specifically for creativity. Creativity provides the variations that are necessary for cultural evolution (Campbell, 1960; Simonton, 1988; Runco, in press). The motivation specifically for creativity may be among the most useful for humans, at least in terms of evolution, progress, and adaptability.1 I have also suggested that the "motivation specifically for creativity" is indeed specific. It probably differs from "achievement through conformance," for example, and 620 VI. SELF-REGULATORY PROCESSES from similar motives that are directed toward socially acknowledged accomplishment. Along the same lines, there seem to be different motives that can each lead to creative effort. Creativity may be tied to the motivation to express oneself, to maintain or improve health, to construct meaningful interpretations of experience, or to retain a sense of autonomy and rely on one's own (intrinsic) standards and goals. When the focus is on creative accomplishment (and not just creative effort), there may be a need to recognize motivation independent of competence—or at least as an antecedent to competence. Admittedly, models such as the two-tiered componential one (Chand & Runco, 1992) suggest that the greatest benefit results when the person is both motivated and competent. There is also the possibility that competence is so highly developed that it takes the form of an expertise that can inhibit the individual (Rubenson &c Runco, 1995). Earlier, I described this as rigidity or inflexibility of thought. Still, many creative achievements do require competence and skill. Motivation may be an antecedent of this, though, of course, it can sometimes take time for the skill to develop. The Wright brothers, just to name one example, were highly motivated to fly but did not succeed until their persistence paid dividends in the form of technical skill and competence. Great care should be taken if parents, educators, or organizational specialists attempt to manipulate the goals and incentives that motivate children's creative efforts. Recall that incentives and other extrinsic contingencies may actually undermine the autonomous thinking that is a part of the creative process. Additionally, goals are as difficult as problems to operationalize. Consider the issues surrounding the definitions of "problem." Many creative insights are the result of a problem-solving effort (Mumford, Baughman, & Sager, 2003; Runco, 1994b), and some people view creativity as one kind of problem solving. The assumption is that all creativity is an effort to solve a problem. This view is frequently criticized, however, for many creative efforts seem to be more self-expressive and playful, and not reactions to a problem. The complication arises because it may be that self-expression is an effort to solve the problem of how best to express something. An artist might say, "No, I am not painting to solve any problem; I am simply trying to find the best way to capture that starry night." What if the artist then adds, 'T just can't decide if this method is best, or that one." That artist has a problem: Which method is best? Goals may similarly depend on one's perspective. The Wright brothers may have persisted because they wanted fly, but someone else might have said that their goal was to build an airplane. At the very least, parents, and teachers, or managers and supervisors in an organizational setting, should take great care with the expectations they hold for their charges. It would be inappropriate for any of these individuals to expect a moderately skilled individual to, through enhanced motivation, perform beyond the limits of his or her capacities. Motivation does not compensate for deficient skills, but instead allows the individual to fulfill his or her potential and to perform at the highest level. Not all of us have what it takes to develop a new method for flying, like the Wrights, but each of us has creative potential, and a better understanding of motivation will allow each of us to best use our creative talents. NOTE 1. Additionally, creativity can be proactive, and this means that problems do not even need to be encountered (Heinzen, 1994). Problems can be avoided, and not merely solved, if we are creative. We may not even need to experience the problems. To be proactive, however, requires that there be an interest in monitoring and maintaining the status quo. This is very different from the motivation to solve problems, which is reactive rather than proactive. REFERENCES Albert, R. S. (1980). Exceptionally girted boys and their parents: Basic educational, cognitive, and creative similarities. Gifted Child Quarterly, 24, 174-179. Albert, R. S., &c Runco, M. A. (in press). Parents' personality and the creative potential of exceptionally gifted boys. 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AUTOMATICITY PROCESSES CHAPTER 34 GS Automaticity in Goal Pursuit PETER M. GOLLWITZER JOHN A. BARGH The intersection of competence and motivation involves the ability to attain one's goals, to accomplish what one sets out to do. Both modern and classic theory and research on goal pursuit have focused mainly on the conscious and deliberate ways that people strive toward desired end states. In this chapter, we focus on the role played by automatic or unconscious motivations in the competent pursuit of one's important goals. How can such unconscious goal pursuit add to a person's competencies in a given domain? We show that unconsciously pursued goals are especially effective in keeping a person "on task" and moving in thought and action toward the desired goal, even when the conscious mind is distracted or focused elsewhere. Automatic or unconscious motivations respond immediately and effortlessly to environmental conditions (triggers) that promote or support the goal in question, such as in recognizing and acting upon opportunities that otherwise might have been missed. And the efficient nature of unconscious motivation makes it an especially effective means of goal pursuit in complex and busy social environments in which con- scious attention is divided and in short supply. Two main forms of unconscious goal pursuit have been featured in our research: one (automatic motivations) a long-term, chronic form that develops out of extended experience; the other (implementation intentions) a temporary and strategic form by which one sets up intended actions in advance, so that they later unfold in an automatic fashion. Before describing these two lines of research, we begin with some historical background on the concept of unconscious motivation as it has come and gone within psychology over the past century. HISTORY OF THE UNCONSCIOUS MOTIVATION CONCEPT The unconscious has had a long and bumpy ride through the history of psychology. Few, if any, other psychological concepts have instigated this much contention and polarization of opinion. William James considered it "a tumbling ground for whimsies," and Jean-Paul Sartre railed against it as a way to 624 34. Automaticity in Goal Pursuit 625 abdicate personal responsibility for one's actions. Sigmund Freud, of course, championed the unconscious as a causal force in human thought and behavior, yet his medical and therapeutic perspective led him to focus as well on the unconscious's negative effects. Many modern-day motivational psychologists continue to hold this negative opinion (Bandura 1986; Locke & Latham, 1990; Mischel, Cantor, & Feldman, 1996). In their treatments, unconscious influences are characterized as rigid, undesirable habits of thought or behavior that must be overcome by conscious acts of will. Freud's dynamic unconscious was primarily motivational in nature, driving behavior to express and fulfill deep-seated needs and wishes, and guarding and defending conscious experience from unpleasant memories of the past or threatening stimuli of the present. Following Freud's lead, the early work on unconscious influences within experimental psychology also focused on the motivational properties of the unconscious. This was the classic "New Look" perception research by Bruner and Postman and their colleagues (see reviews by Allport, 1955; Bruner, 1957; Erdelyi, 1974). The idea of perceptual defense involved motivational influences on the initial perception and awareness of environmental stimuli. Many studies showed, for example, that significantly longer tachistoscopic presentation times were needed for a participant to recognize taboo words or other stimuli (e.g., swastikas, spiders) likely to produce negative emotional reactions, compared to the recognition of emotionally neutral or positive stimuli. But the New Look ideas concerning motivational influences on perceptual recognition and identification had difficulty gaining acceptance into the then-mainstream of psychological science. Erdelyi's (1974) historical analysis and review of the New Look indicates that 1950s psychology was just not ready for the idea of preconscious influences on stimulus recognition. But this all changed with the so-called "cognitive revolution" in psychology of the 1960s. Neisser's (1967) influential book, Cognitive Psychology, for example, reviewed experimental evidence of preattentive or preconscious perceptual analysis (e.g., pattern recognition, figural synthesis). Most notably, the classic research and theory on attention allocation of Broadbent, Treisman, Norman, and others, which showed how stimuli could be analyzed for meaning prior to the person's conscious awareness of them, made the idea of early motivational screening of environmental stimuli much more plausible than it had been in the 1950s (see review by Lachman, Lachman, & Butterfield, 1979). Thus, the idea of unconscious influences on perception gained a great deal of traction from the cognitive revolution and soon flourished in social and clinical psychology as well. It is now completely uncontroversial in mainstream psychology. But what happened to the concept of unconscious motivation? It did not reap the benefits of the cognitive revolution; rather, within social psychology, one of the consequences of that revolution was an attempt to eliminate motivational explanations for as many phenomena as possible (e.g., Nisbett & Ross, 1980). Unconscious motivation, as a scientific concept within social psychology, thus had to overcome two separate historical resistances—the long-standing one to the unconscious as an explanatory variable, and the more recent one to motivational explanations as well. But just as research on the unconscious snuck back into respectability through the sheep's clothing of "attention research" (Broadbent, 1958), motivation research made its comeback under the cover of "task goals" (Srull & Wyer, 1986; Anderson & Pichert, 1978). Social cognition researchers had shown that the outcome of information-processing activities—such as organization of material in memory and ease of retrieval—varied as a function of the particular task goals assigned to participants (e.g., memorizing behavioral information vs. forming an impression based on it; Hamilton, Katz, &c Leirer, 1980). Accordingly, by about 1990, it had become clear that any complete model of social cognition had to take into account the individual's task or processing goals. The goal concept began to be included in social cognition models, mainly by assuming that goals were represented mentally in a similar way as was known for other classes of social stimuli, such as types of social behavior, roles, and groups (Bargh, 1990; Kruglanski, 1996). The auto-motive model (Bargh, 1990; see below) grew out of this idea: If goals were represented mentally just like 626 VI. SELF-REGULATORY PROCESSES other varieties of social concepts (e.g., stereotypes), then the same properties that had been found to hold for other social representations—such as the capability of becoming activated outside of conscious awareness— should hold for goals as well. And so the concept of unconscious motivation made its return to scientific psychology: It was "unconscious" because it was automatic in the sense of being triggered and guided by external stimuli instead of an act of conscious choice and subsequent conscious control (Bargh, 1994), and it was "motivation" because goal representations were the particular cognitive concepts being automatically activated. AUTOMOTIVE THEORY: AUTOMATIC ACTIVATION AND PURSUIT OF PERSONAL GOALS The auto-motive model of unconscious social motivations built upon the research of the 1970s, and especially the 1980s, that demonstrated the automatic activation capability of social mental representations, such as trait concepts (e.g., honest, aggressive), attitudes, and group stereotypes (see reviews by Bargh, 1989; Brewer, 1988; Wegner & Bargh, 1997). This research showed that frequently used mental representations will, over time, become active upon the mere presence of relevant information in the person's environment. For stereotypes, this would be easily identifiable group features such as skin color, gender, speech accent, and so on. For attitudes, the environmental trigger would be the mere presence of the attitude object in the environment (Fazio, 1986). For trait concepts, it would be features of observed social behaviors corresponding to the trait in question (Uleman, Newman, &c Moskowitz, 1996). The principle underlying all of these cases of automatic process development was that automatic associations are formed between the representations of environmental features (e.g., attitude objects, or common situations and settings) and other representations (e.g., evaluations or stereotypes, respectively) to the extent that they are consistently active in memory at the same time (Hebb, 1948). If one repeatedly and consistently thinks of members of a particular social group in stereotypical ways, for in- stance, then the stereotype eventually would become active automatically upon the mere presence in the environment of a member of that group (Bargh, 1989; Brewer, 1988). Under the assumption that goals, too, are represented mentally, and become automatically activated by the same principles, then goal representations should be capable of automatic activation by features of the contexts in which those goals have been pursued often and consistently in the past. If a given individual always competed with his or her siblings, then the goal of competition should become automatically activated upon just the mere presence of a sibling. In other words, it should become active even though the person may not intentionally and consciously choose to compete at that time and in that situation. The auto-motive model further assumes that, once activated in this unconscious manner, the goal representation would then operate in the same way as when it is consciously and intentionally activated; that is, the model predicts that an automatically activated goal would have the same effects on thought and behavior as when the person consciously pursues that same goal (i.e., as when the goal is activated by an act of conscious will). In essence, then, the original auto-motive model (Bargh, 1990) derived the historical notion of unconscious motivation from the basic principles of modern-day cognitive psychology. Such theoretical derivations are all well and good, but more was needed to establish the mundane reality of unconscious motivations in social life than logical or theoretical arguments. Accordingly, experimental research was conducted to test the model empirically. This research focused on three main questions: Can we observe goal attainment effects on thoughts, feelings, and behaviors by implicitly activated (primes) goals? Once activated, can unconscious goals keep operating outside of conscious awareness? And is automatic goal pursuit characterized by the same features as is conscious goal pursuit? Goal Attainment Effects of Implicitly Activated Goals (Goal Priming) The first question to be addressed was whether goals could be activated outside of conscious awareness. The standard method 34- Automaticity in Goal Pursuit 627 used within social cognition research to test such a hypothesis is the priming or unrelated-studies paradigm (Bargh & Chartrand, 2000). In this design, the concept under study is first primed by causing the participant to think about or use it in some way that is unrelated to the focal task that comes next in the experiment. For example, to prime or passively activate the concept of honesty, the participant might be exposed to some synonyms of honesty in the course of working on a sentence construction task, such as the scrambled sentence test developed by Srull and Wyer (1979). The use of the concept in this first task should cause the concept to become activated. It is assumed that such activation persists for some time after the use of the concept, even though participants do not realize it (Higgins, Bargh, & Lombardi, 1985). Thus, the still-active concept can have an influence on information processing in the next experimental task (e.g., forming an impression of a target person), without the person being aware of this influence. Chartrand and Bargh (1996) used this paradigm to test whether goal representations could be primed in the same manner. In one study, participants completed a scrambled sentence test that contained either some words related to the goal of impression formation (e.g., "judge," "evaluate") or to the goal of memorization (e.g., "retain," "absorb"). When this task had been completed, participants were given a second, ostensibly unrelated task to complete: to read each of a series of 16 behaviors performed by a target person and then answer some questions about them. After participants had read all of the behaviors, they were given a surprise recall task. Previous research (Hamilton et al., 1980) had used the same procedure, but with explicit (conscious) instructions to participants either to memorize the presented information, or to form an impression of the person based on the behaviors. That study had found significantly better recall, and also greater thematic organization of the behavioral information in memory, for participants in the impression-formation condition. But in our study, no such explicit instructions were given; instead, all participants were given the same (generic) instructions about answering some questions later on. Nonetheless, the results were the same as those in the previous study: participants in the impression-formation goal-priming condition both recalled more behaviors and showed greater thematic organization of them in memory compared to those in the memorization-goal-priming condition. These findings suggest that goals can indeed be primed, and then produce the same outcomes as when consciously pursued. Subsequent studies found similar effects with a variety of other goals. For example, priming the goal of achievement (i.e., to perform well) causes participants to score higher on verbal tasks than do control group participants (Bargh & Gollwitzer, 1994; Bargh, Gollwitzer, Lee-Chai, Barndollar, & Trötschel, 2001), and priming the goal of cooperation causes them to make more cooperative responses in a negotiation task in which they were free to compete or cooperate (Bargh et al., 2001, Study 2). Although these studies primed goal concepts rather directly, by presenting participants with words synonymous with the goal, goals can also become automatically activated indirectly, through their strong association with certain situational features that are primed instead. Indeed, this is closer to the way that the auto-motive model assumes that goals become automatically activated in the real world—that is, by the presence of situational features within which the goal has been frequently pursued in the past. Situational power is one such feature: priming the concept of power causes participants with sexual harassment tendencies to become more attracted to a female confederate than they otherwise would have been (Bargh, Raymond, Pryor, & Strack, 1995). It also causes people to behave more in line with their own self-interest, and against the interests of their fellow experimental participants (Chen, Lee-Chai, & Bargh, 2001). These findings support the model's assumption that strong, automatic associations develop between situational and goal representations, to the extent that the goal is pursued frequently and consistently within that situation. Another important and common situational trigger for goal pursuit is the presence of a significant other. These are people such as our parents, siblings, children, dating partners, or spouses, friends, and close colleagues—people whom we think about a lot, and interactions with whom yield outcomes 628 VI. SELF-REGULATORY PROCESSES that substantially impact on our moods and life satisfaction. Fitzsimons and Bargh (2003) assumed that our mental representations of these close others contain within them the goals that we frequently and consistently pursue when with them. For instance, a person might have the chronic and long-standing goals of making her mother proud of her, competing with her brother, and relaxing and having fun when with her best friend. Even though there may by people who share such goals with respect to these significant others, other people may want to avoid their mothers, to have fun with their brothers, and to look up to and emulate their best friends. Thus, there should be not only commonalities in goal pursuit across people but also some degree of individual variation in goals, given the same significant other (e.g., one's mother). This was confirmed in a preliminary survey of college undergraduates, in which they were asked to list the goals they pursued with five different types of significant others. Next, in several laboratory experiments and one field experiment, participants' mental representations of a given type of significant other (e.g., a best friend) were primed without their awareness, and then participants were given an opportunity to pursue the goal chronically associated with that partner. In every case, participants did behave in line with this goal, even though their significant other was not, of course, physically present in the experimental situation. For instance, in participants who usually try to make their mothers proud of them, priming the representation of the mother caused them to outperform control participants on measures of verbal ability. In line with the auto-motive model's predictions, priming the mother had no effect on the verbal ability task performance of participants who pursued other goals with their mothers (e.g., friendship, helping her). Also, those who did have the goal of making their mothers proud, but who were not primed with the mother, did not perform any better than did the control group. Both ingredients were necessary: the priming or preactivation of the representation of one's mother, and the chronic, automatic association of one's mother with the goal of high performance. In practice, then, thinking about or being reminded of a certain significant other—which can be prompted easily and innocently by merely glancing at their photograph on our wall or desk—ís sufficient to put into motion those goals one chronically pursues when with that person. So even when they are not present, one starts to behave as if he or she were in their company. A further real-life, implicit activation of goals may occur when we observe the goal-directed actions of others, even nonsignificant others. By perceiving other people's goal pursuits, the respective mental goal representations should become activated in ourselves, with the effect that we start to act on them as well. This goal-contagion hypothesis, according to which individuals automatically take on a goal that is implied by another's behavior, has recently been examined in a series of studies (Aarts, Gollwitzer, & Hassin, 2004). Participants were briefly exposed to behavioral information about another person, implying a specific goal (e.g., making money), and were then given the opportunity to act on this goal in a different way and context. Participants' own actions started to serve the same goal, and they acquired features of goal-directedness in the sense that they were affected by goal strength (i.e., were in line with the participants' personal need for money), showed persistence over time, and were more readily engaged when the given situation clearly lent itself to meeting the goal at hand. Most interestingly, participants were immune against the automatic adoption of the goals of others if these were pursued in an inappropriate, socially unacceptable way. Apparently, goal contagion will not occur if the observed goal pursuits of others are perceived to be unattractive and undesirable. Unconscious Operation of Primed Goals It is one thing to claim that goals can be activated automatically, but quite another to argue that once activated, goals continue to operate outside of conscious awareness. But this is indeed the strong form of the automotive model, and there is now evidence consistent with this claim. For one thing, in all such automatic goal studies, participants are carefully questioned and debriefed following the experiment, to make sure they were not aware of pursuing that goal during 34. Automaticity in Goal Pursuit 629 the experimental task. Very few if any participants show this awareness (the data of those who do are removed prior to analyses); most are surprised, if not skeptical, that we, the experimenters, had caused them to pursue a goal without their knowledge. For example, in the Chartrand and Bargh (1996) study, impression-primed participants were no more likely to report having tried to form an impression of the target person than were memorization-primed participants, who in turn were no more likely to report having tried to memorize the information than were the impression-primed participants. More than that, very few participants reported having pursued either goal while reading the target's behaviors. In the Fitzsimons and Bargh (2003) research, participants in the field experiment at a major international airport, who were approached to participate while waiting for their flight to depart, largely did not believe the experimenter's explanation that they had been induced to volunteer to help the experimenter (or not) by first answering some questions about their friend (vs. coworker). People's personal theories about what causes them to do things just do not include the idea (and thus allow for the possibility) of unconscious motivations or causes (Wilson & Brekke, 1994). Perhaps stronger evidence as to the unconscious operation of goals is furnished by Experiment 2 of Bargh et al. (2001), in which people were either primed (or not) to cooperate with their opponent in a negotiation task, or were told explicitly (or not) by the experimenter to cooperate. These two factors were crossed in the design of the study, in order to compare the conscious versus unconscious operation of the same goal. As in the other goal-priming studies, those who were primed to cooperate did so more than did nonprimed participants. Also, not surprisingly, those who were explicitly (consciously) told to cooperate did so more than those who were not. After the experimental task had been completed, all participants were then asked to rate how much they had tried to cooperate while performing the negotiation task with their opponent. For each participant, then, we could compare these ratings of how much they had consciously tried to cooperate with their actual cooperative behavior during the negotiation (measured in terms of the relative numbers of cooperative moves they had made during the task). For those in the explicit, conscious cooperation condition, these ratings correlated significantly with actual behavior: Those who had reported having tried harder to cooperate actually had cooperated more than other participants. In other words, self-reports accurately reflected the actual behavior. But for those in the unconscious (primed) cooperation condition, self-reports of how much they had tried to cooperate did not correspond at all (correlations near zero) with how much cooperation actually occurred. This is our strongest evidence to date that, for automatically activated goals, people are not consciously aware of the operation of these goals, even while they are successfully pursuing them. Similarities of Unconscious to Conscious Goal Pursuits Thus far, the evidence shows that unconscious goal pursuit produces the same effects (in terms of goal attainment) on thought, memory, and behavior as are known for conscious goal pursuit. "Whether the goal has to do with how incoming social information is to be processed, how well an intellectual task is to be performed, or how one is to interact with another person, significant performance differences emerge between groups primed to unconsciously pursue different goals, just as they did in previous studies between groups explicitly told (or not) to pursue such goals. As Bargh and Chartrand (1999) noted, exactly how a given goal is put into play (i.e., consciously or unconsciously) does not seem to matter with respect to goal attainment. Regardless of how it became activated, the active goal operates on the available information that is relevant to its purposes, and guides thought and behavior toward the desired end state. Thus, on outcome measures (i.e., how well the person attains the goal), the findings to date show high similarity between conscious and unconscious goal pursuit. However, the classic literature on conscious goal pursuit has also documented various content-free features of conscious goal pursuit; thus, one wonders whether unconscious goal pursuits also carry these features. 630 VI. SELF-REGULATORY PROCESSES Consequences of Goal Attainment Whenever goals are attained, people are said to experience positive self-evaluative consequences (e.g., succeeding on a given goal leads to feelings of pride, expecting to be praised by others; Atkinson, 1957; Heckhausen, 1977) that should put them in a positive mood. Moreover, succeeding on a given goal is said to lead to striving for more challenging goals (i.e., proactive goal striving; Bandura, 1997). To test whether the similarity of conscious and unconscious goal operation extends to these aftereffects of goal attainment, Chartrand (1999; Chartrand & Bargh, 2002) conducted several studies in which participants were induced to unconsciously pursue a goal (via a priming manipulation), which they then succeeded on or failed to meet. In one experiment, for example, a high-achievement goal was primed or not, and then all participants were given a set of anagrams to solve. Critically, the anagrams were either very easy to solve or impossible to solve. In this way, Chartrand manipulated whether participants succeeded or failed at their unconscious goal to perform well. Following the anagram task, participants completed either a mood measure or a test of verbal ability. The mood measure was intended to tap the predicted emotional consequences of a positive self-evaluation following goal attainment; the verbal ability test was intended to tap the predicted proactive goal striving. The results confirmed that unconscious goal pursuit is characterized by the same goal attainment effects as have been found for conscious goal pursuit. Take first the findings in the no-goal condition, in which no high-achievement goal had been primed; whether the anagram task was easy or difficult made no difference to mood or performance on the verbal ability test. This was expected, because participants in the no-goal condition had no high-achievement goal activated on which they could succeed or fail. For participants in the unconscious high-achievement goal condition, however, their moods and subsequent task performance were markedly affected by whether they had just completed the easy versus difficult anagram task. On the mood measure, those in the easy anagram condition were significantly happier than were participants who had just worked on the difficult anagrams; and the easy anagram participants also outperformed the difficult anagram participants on the subsequent verbal ability test. Because the high-achievement goal was unconscious, and operating without the participant's awareness, these findings indicate that one's mood and also subsequent pursuit of relevant, more challenging goals can be affected by whether one succeeds or fails at a goal one does not even know one has. Chartrand's findings therefore suggest that unconscious goal striving leads to goal attainment consequences (positive self-evaluations; proactive goal striving) similar to those of conscious goal pursuit. Goal Projection It has always been assumed that people project not only their traits but also their goals onto others. Holmes (1978) referred to more than just traits when he defined "projection" as a "process by which persons attribute personality traits, characteristics, or motivations to other persons as a function of their own personality traits, characteristics, or motivations" (p. 677). He even suggested that projection should be more easily observed with motivational impulses than with traits (Holmes, 1968). Accordingly, we recently tested whether the projection effects postulated for explicit goals also hold true for implicit goals (Kawada, Oettingen, Gollwitzer, & Bargh, 2004). In one study, the experimenter explicitly assigned the goal to compete to some participants (i.e., explicit goal condition) and then asked them to rate the competitive orientation of a presumed partner participant, with whom they expected to play a Prisoner's Dilemma game. In the implicit goal condition, the goal to compete was activated using a scrambled sentence technique that exposed participants to words such as "compete," "win," and "succeed." Compared to control participants, who entered the presumed Prisoner's Dilemma game without any assigned or activated competition goal, both implicit and explicit competition participants expected the presumed partner to act more competitively throughout the game. These results indicate that goal projection occurs regardless of whether the goal is unconscious or consciously held. 34- Automaticicy in Goal Pursuit 631 In a follow-up experiment, the goal to compete was implicitly activated by sublimi-nally presenting competition-related words; in the explicit goal condition, participants were again asked to take a competitive stand in the upcoming Prisoner's Dilemma game. Moreover, the experimenters weakened the goal to compete by allowing some participants to meet this goal in an alternative competition task (Wicklund &c Gollwitzer, 1982), prior to performing the Prisoner's Dilemma game. First, we could replicate the goal projection effect (as compared to a no-goal control group) with implicit and explicit competition goal participants whose goals had not been weakened. Second, however, when the goal to compete had been weakened, goal projection effects were no longer observed in both the implicit and the explicit goal condition. This finding supports the claim that it was indeed the participants' goal to compete that was being projected onto others, and not just the trait concept of competitiveness. Moreover, it demonstrates that implicitly activated (primed) goals and explicitly assigned goals are both readily projected onto others, and that both seem to have the property of losing strength after having been served successfully. Motivational Qualities: Sustained Goal Activation, Persistence, and Resumption Since the time of Kurt Lewin, motivational states and processes have classically been distinguished by features and qualities different from those of nonmotivational, purely cognitive processes. These qualities include behavioral features, such as persisting in attempting to reach the goal when facing difficulties and returning to the goal activity after being disrupted, as opposed to giving up at the first obstacle or walking away from the interrupted activity (Lewin, 1935). Atkinson and Birch (1970) identified a further signature of motivational states: the tendency to stay activated or even increase in activation strength over time, until the desired outcome is reached or one has gone through an active, effortful process of disengagement from wanting to attain it. Cognitive (nonmotivational) representations, in contrast, tend to decrease quickly in activation strength over time since last use (e.g., Higgins et al, 1985). Because much of the research that has tested and supported the auto-motive model has relied on the same priming techniques and manipulations as those previously used to study unconscious social perception and cognition (Bargh, 1989; Bargh & Chartrand, 2000), the following question arises: Could the same perceptual, nonmotivational social representations (e.g., trait concepts) that had been primed in those previous studies be responsible for the so-called "motivational effects" described earlier? Why should the same or very similar priming manipulations be said to produce perceptual or nonmotivational effects in some studies, but motivational effects in others? This is an important and complex question for which we do not yet have a complete answer, but some additional findings shed light on what that answer might eventually be. At present, it appears that the same priming manipulation can activate qualitatively different concepts or processes at the same time (Bargh, 1997). Thus, stimuli related to the concept of achievement activate or prime the perceptual construct of achievement, the category used to identify achievement behavior in someone else, as well as the motivational or goal representation of achievement, which is used to energize and guide our own strivings for high performance on a task. The best evidence to date for this proposition comes from Study 3 by Bargh et al. (2001), in which participants were first primed (or not) with achievement-related stimuli. Next, there was either a 5-minute delay before the participant worked on the next task, or he or she worked on it right away, with no interpolated delay. The final factor in the design was the type of task participants worked on: They either read a story about a target person who behaved in a somewhat ambiguous achievement-oriented manner (the social perception task), or they worked on a verbal task, in which they tried to find as many different words as they could in a set of Scrabble letter tiles (the performance task). Note that the achievement-priming manipulation was the same for all participants in that condition, whether they subsequently worked on the social judgment or the verbal performance task. The expected priming effects were obtained on both tasks in the no-delay condi- 632 VI. SELF-REGULATORY PROCESSES tion, with those primed with achievement-related stimuli either judging the target person as more achievement-oriented (in the judgment task condition), or finding significantly more words (in the verbal performance task condition), than did the non-primed participants. However, as predicted, the time delay differentially impacted the priming effect on the perceptual versus the motivational task. On the perceptual task, the significant priming observed under no-delay condition disappeared after the 5-min-ute delay; this is consistent with previous studies of the time course of priming effects on social-perceptual tasks (Higgins et al., 1985). But on the motivational word-search task, the priming effect actually increased significantly in strength over the 5-minute delay. This is what would be expected, following Atkinson and Birch's (1970) dynamic theory of action, if a motivational state were driving the verbal task performance. These findings help to establish that our goal-priming manipulations are indeed activating a motivational state, as opposed to the same perceptual and nonmotivational constructs as in prior research. Other recent experiments provide additional supportive evidence. In another experiment by Bargh et a!. (2001, Study 4), participants' goal of achievement or high performance was primed (or not), and they then worked on the same Scrabble word-search task. The experimenter told participants that she had to see to another study in a different room but would give them the signal to stop working on the task over an intercom when the time came. Unknown to the participants, a hidden video camera recorded their behavior when and after the stop signal had been given. The dependent variable was whether the participant would keep working on the word-search task, trying for even higher scores, after the experimenter gave the stop signal, or whether they would stop working when faced with this obstacle to better performance. The results were clear: Over 50% of the participants in the achievement-primed condition continued to search for words after the stop signal had been given, compared to just over 20% of the nonprimed participants. Thus, when one places an obstacle in the way of an unconsciously motivated person, a hindrance to attaining the goal (in this case) of the highest possible score on the task, the person will act to remove or bypass that obstacle if at all possible. Experimental participants for whom this unconscious goal is not operating show much less of a tendency to keep working on the task; for them, it is just an experiment, and not a very involving task at that. It is the activation and operation of the unconscious high-achievement goal in this experiment that makes participants care enough about their performance to persistently strive for an ever-higher score, even though they have to do so secretly and surreptitiously (they believe) after the stop signal has been given. We have also tested goal-primed participants' motivational tendency to resume an interrupted goal, even in the face of more attractive behavioral options. In this study (Bargh et ak, 2001, Study 5), participants were told that they would complete two different tasks. Participants were first primed (or not) to activate the achievement goal, and then all participants worked on a word-search task. Halfway through that task, a staged power outage forced everyone to stop work. After a 5-minute delay, the power was restored, but now (as the experimenter informed participants) there was no longer enough time during the session for them to complete both of the tasks. They were given the option of going back to the first task, or moving on to the second task, in which they would rate each of a series of cartoons as to how funny they were. Pretesting had shown that this cartoon-rating task was greatly preferred over the word-search task. The dependent variable was the percentages of participants in the goal-primed versus not-primed conditions who went back and completed the word-search task, forgoing the opportunity to view and rate the cartoons. As would be expected if our goal-priming manipulation had produced a strong motivational state, significantly more participants in the goal-primed condition {66%) returned to the incomplete first task, compared to 35% of the no-goal participants. Summary of Goal Priming Research Our research has demonstrated, first, that goals can be triggered without an act of will or conscious choice on the part of the indi- 34. Automaticky in Goal Pursuit 633 vidual, simply by the presence of relevant situational cues. Moreover, once activated, the goal continues to operate in an unconscious fashion, with people unable to report or recognize immediately afterward that they have just pursued that goal, even though they have given every indication (on our dependent measures) of having done so. On several different types of commonly held goals—achievement, cooperation, impression formation, and memorization, the unconscious operation of the goal produced the same effects that others have observed when that goal is pursued with full conscious awareness and intent. These effects are not restricted to the outcome of the goal pursuit, but extend to content-free characteristics, such as self-evaluation, proactive goal striving, projection, sustained goal activation, persistence, and resumption. It appears, then, that successful goal pursuit does not require consciously held goals and conscious instigation and monitoring of respective goal striving. Rather, goals can be pursued and attained regardless of their status in consciousness. STRATEGIC AUTOMATION OF GOAL PURSUIT: IMPLEMENTATION INTENTIONS Classic theories of motivation (e.g., Atkinson, 1957, Fishbein & Ajzen, 1975; Heck-hausen, 1977, McClelland, 1985; see reviews by Gollwitzer, 1990; Gollwitzer & Moskowitz, 1996; Oettingen 8c" Gollwitzer, 2001) see the implementation of consciously set goals in direct relation to the strength of the goal, which in turn is a product of expected utility (desirability) of goal attainment and the likelihood that the goal can be attained (feasibility). However, even though (self-set or assigned) goals to do more good and less bad have been found to be reliably associated with actual efforts in the intended directions (Ajzen, 1991; Godin & Kok, 1996; Sheeran, 2002), these intention-behavior relations are modest. This is largely due to the fact that people, despite having formed strong intentions on the basis of high desirability and feasibility beliefs, fail to act on them (i.e., people are inclined but still abstain; Orbell & Sheeran, 1998). The gap between intentions and behavior is largely due to the fact that the successful translation of goals (intention) into respective behaviors requires solving numerous problems of self-regulation, many of them having to do with being burdened by thoughts, feelings, and actions that are irrelevant to the goal pursuit at hand (Gollwitzer, 1996). In order to meet their goals, people often have to seize quickly viable opportunities to initiate relevant actions, a task that becomes particularly difficult when attention is directed elsewhere (e.g., when one is absorbed by competing goal pursuits, wrapped up in ruminations, gripped by intense emotional experiences, or simply tired). But even if the person has successfully started to act on a set goal, the ongoing goal pursuit needs to be shielded from getting derailed by negative influences from outside (e.g., temptations, distractions) and inside (e.g., self-doubts). With all of these problems of goal pursuit, automatic control of goal-directed action should come in handy, because established routines linked to a relevant context would release the critical goal-directed behavior immediately, efficiently, and without a conscious intent. Often, however, such routines are not established, and the goal-directed behavior is not yet part of an everyday routine. Research on implementation intentions (Gollwitzer, 1993, 1999) suggests that—as a substitute—ad hoc automatic action control can be achieved by forming implementation intentions that take the format, "If Situation X is encountered, then I will perform Behavior Y!" In an implementation intention, a mental link is created between an anticipated future situational cue and an intended instrumental goal-directed response. Implementation intentions need to be distinguished from goals or goal intentions. Goal intentions have the format ("I intend to reach Z!"), whereby Z may relate to a certain outcome or behavior to which the individual feels committed. Both goal intentions and implementation intentions are acts of willing, wherein the first specifies an intention to meet a goal, and the second refers to an intention to perform a plan. Commonly, implementation intentions are formed in the service of goal intentions, because they specify the when, where, and how of goal-directed responses. For instance, a 634 VI. SELF-REGULATORY PROCESSES possible implementation intention in the service of meeting the health goal of eating vegetarian food would link a suitable situational cue (e.g., one's order is taken at a restaurant) to an appropriate goal-directed behavior (e.g., asking for a vegetarian meal). The mental if-then links created by implementation intentions are expected to facilitate goal attainment on the basis of various psychological processes that relate to both the anticipated situation and the linked behavior (Gollwitzer, 1999). Because forming implementation intentions implies the selection of a critical future internal or external cue (i.e., a viable opportunity), it is assumed that the mental representation of this situation becomes highly activated, hence more accessible. This heightened accessibility should make it easier to detect the critical situation in the surrounding environment and to attend readily to it even when one is busy with other things. Moreover, once the critical cue is encountered, the response specified in the then part of the implementation intention should be triggered in an automatic fashion that is immediate, efficient, and without necessitating a conscious intent. In summary, the formation of implementation intentions is a strategy of regulating goal pursuit that switches conscious control of goal-directed action to automatic control. Research on action control via implementation intentions to date has focused on the following three questions: Are implementation intentions of help in overcoming the various problems of goal pursuit? Do implementation intentions indeed allow for the automatic control of goal-directed action? And what kind of price do people pay when self-regulating their goal pursuits by forming if-then plans? Implementation Intentions Help Overcome Classic Problems of Conscious Goal Pursuit The conscious self-regulation of goal pursuit often runs aground. This is true, whether the problems at hand are related to getting started, staying on track in the face of internal or external disturbances, keeping up motivation in the face of difficulties, or switching from ineffective to more effective means. However, research on the effects of forming implementation intentions on translating goal intentions into behavior shows that all of these problems benefit from the strategic automation of goal pursuit provided by implementation intentions. Getting Started This problem of goal pursuit embraces three different issues, each of which militates against effectively getting started on one's goals. The first has to do with remembering one's goal intention (Einstein fie McDaniel, 1996). "When acting on a given goal is not part of one's routine, or when one has to postpone acting on it until a suitable opportunity presents itself, one can easily forget to do so. Dealing with many things at once, or becoming preoccupied by a particular task, can make this even more likely, especially when the given goal is new or unfamiliar. Empirical support of this reason for the intention-behavior gap comes from retrospective reports by inclined abstainers. For example, 70% of participants who had intended to perform a breast self-examination but failed to do so offered forgetting as their reason for nonperformance (Milne, Orbell, & Sheeran, 2002; Orbell, Hodgkins, &C Sheeran, 1997). Also, meta-analysis has shown that the longer the time interval between measures of goal intentions and goal achievement, the less likely it is that intentions are realized (Sheeran & Orbell, 1998). These findings suggest that remembering one's goal intentions does not come easy to people. But even if one remembers what one is supposed to do, there is another problem that may need to be resolved, namely, seizing the opportunity to act. This problem is likely to be especially acute when there is a deadline for performing the behavior, or when the opportunity to act is presented only briefly. In these circumstances, people may fail to initiate goal-directed responses because they fail to notice that a good time to get started has arrived, they are unsure how they should act when the moment presents itself, or they simply procrastinate. Oettingen, Honig, and Gollwitzer (2000, Study 3} showed that considerable slippage can occur even when people have formed strong goal intentions to perform a behavior at a particular time. Participants were pro- 34. Automaticity in Goal Pursuit 635 vided with diskettes containing four concentration tasks and formed goal intentions to perform these tasks on their computers at a particular time each Wednesday morning for the next 4 weeks. The program on the diskette recorded the time that participants started to work on the task from the clock on participants' computers. Findings indicated that the mean deviation from the intended start time was 8 hours, that is, a discrepancy of 2 hours on average for each specified opportunity. Similar findings were obtained by Dholakia and Bagozzi (2003, Study 2) when participants' task was to evaluate a website that could be accessed only during a short time window. Here, only 37% of participants who formed a respective goal intention were successful at accomplishing the task. In summary, people may not get started with goal pursuit, because they fail to seize good opportunities to act. There are also many instances in which people remember their goal intentions (e.g., to order a low-fat meal) and recognize that an opportune moment is upon them (e.g., it is lunchtime at one's usual restaurant) but nonetheless fail to initiate goal-directed behaviors, because they start to reflect anew on the desirability of the goal intention (i.e., start to have second thoughts). This problem has to do with overcoming an initial reluctance to act that is likely to arise when people have decided to pursue a goal that involves a trade-off between attractive long-term consequences versus less attractive short-term consequences (Mischel, 1996). For example, a strong goal intention to order low-fat meals is commonly formed on the basis of long-term deliberative thinking, according to which eating low-fat food is perceived as highly desirable; however, once the critical situation is confronted, short-term desirability considerations are triggered that occupy cognitive resources at the moment of action (e.g., the low-fat meal is perceived as tasteless at the critical juncture). Such dilemmas between the head and the heart should thus also get in the way of readily acting on the respective goal in the face of good opportunities (Loewenstein, Weber, Hsee, & Welch, 2001; Metcalfe & Mischel, 1999; Trafimow fie Sheeran, in press). So the question arises: Does forming implementation intentions that plan out in ad- vance when, where, and how one wants to move toward goal attainment ameliorate the problems of action initiation spelled out earlier. Various studies on the effects of implementation intentions on the rate of goal attainment suggest a positive answer to this question given the type of goals that have been found to benefit from forming implementation intentions. For instance, Gollwitzer and Brandstätter (1997) analyzed a goal intention (i.e., writing a report about how one spent Christmas Eve) that had to be performed at a time (i.e., during the subsequent Christmas holiday) when people were commonly busy with other things. Similarly, Oettingen et al. (2000, Study 3) observed that implementation intentions help people to act on their task goals (i.e., taking a concentration test) on time (e.g., at 10 A.M. in the morning of every Wednesday over the next 4 weeks}. Other studies have examined the effects of implementation intentions on goal attainment rates with goal intentions that are somewhat unpleasant to perform. For instance, the goal intentions to perform regular breast examinations (Orbell et al., 1997), cervical cancer screenings (Sheeran & Orbell, 2000), resumption of functional activity after joint replacement surgery (Orbell ÔC Sheeran, 2000), and engaging in physical exercise (Milne et al., 2002), were all more frequently acted on when people had furnished these goals with implementation intentions. Moreover, implementation intentions were found to facilitate the attainment of goal intentions when it is easy to forget to act on them (e.g., regular intake of vitamin pills, Sheeran &c Orbell, 1999; the signing of work sheets with the elderly, Chasteen, Park, &C Schwarz, 2001). The results of these studies suggest that implementation intentions indeed facilitate the initiation of goal-directed behaviors by simplifying this process (i.e., making it less effortful). This conclusion is also supported by the finding that the beneficial effects of implementation intentions are commonly more apparent with difficult-to-implement goals compared to easy goals. For instance, implementation intentions were more effective in helping people to complete difficult, compared to easy, personal projects during Christmas break (Gollwitzer & Brandstätter, 1997, Study 1). And forming implementation intentions was more beneficial to fron- 636 VI. SELF-REGULATORY PROCESSES tai lobe patients, who typically have severe problems with executive control, than to college students (Lengfelder &c Gollwitzer, 2001, Study 2). Staying on Track Many goals cannot be accomplished by simple, discrete, one-shot actions but require continuous striving and repeated complex behavioral performances to be attained. Once a person has initiated these more complex goal pursuits, bringing them to a successful ending may be very difficult when certain internal (e.g., being anxious, tired, overburdened) or external stimuli (e.g., temptations, distractions) are not conducive to goal realization but instead generate interferences that could potentially derail the ongoing goal pursuit. Thus, one wonders whether implementation intentions can facilitate the shielding of such goal pursuits from the negative influences of interferences from inside and outside the person. There are two major strategies in which implementation intentions can be used to shield an ongoing goal pursuit: (1) directing one's implementation intentions toward the suppression of negative influences, and (2) directing one's implementation intentions toward spelling out the ongoing goal pursuit, so that it becomes sheltered from these negative influences. For example, in the realm of social competence: If a person wants to avoid being unfriendly to a friend who is known to make outrageous requests, she can protect herself from showing the unwanted unfriendly response by forming suppression-oriented implementation intentions. Suppression-oriented implementation intentions can take different formats. The person may focus on reducing the intensity of the unwanted response by intending not to show the unwanted response: "And if my friend approaches me with an outrageous request, then I will not respond in an unfriendly manner!" But the person may also try to reduce the intensity of the unwanted response by specifying the initiation of the respective antagonistic response: "And if my friend approaches me with an outrageous request, then I will respond in a friendly manner!" Finally, suppression-oriented implementation intentions may even focus a person away from the critical stimulus: "And if my friend approaches me with an outrageous request, then I'll ignore it!" Two sets of experiments analyzed the effects of suppression-oriented implementation intentions. The first looked at the control of unwanted spontaneous attention to tempting distractions (Gollwitzer & Schaal, 1998). Participants had to perform a boring task (i.e., a series of simple arithmetic tasks) while being bombarded with attractive distracting stimuli (e.g., video clips of award-winning commercials). Whereas control participants were asked to form a mere goal intention ("I will not let myself get distracted!"), experimental participants in addition formed one of two implementation intentions: "And if a distraction arises, then I'll ignore it!" or "And if a distraction arises, then I will increase my effort at the task at hand!" The ignore implementation intention always helped participants to ward off the distractions (as assessed by their task performance), regardless of whether the motivation to perform the tedious task (assessed at the beginning of the task) was low or high. The effort-increase implementation intention, in contrast, was effective only when motivation to perform the tedious task was low. Apparently, when motivation is high to begin with, effort-increase implementation intentions may create overmotivation that hampers task performance. It seems appropriate therefore to advise motivated individuals who suffer from being distracted (e.g., ambitious students doing their homework) to resort to ignore implementation intentions rather than to implementation intentions that focus on the strengthening of effort. The second set of experiments analyzing suppression-oriented implementation intentions studied the control of the automatic activation of stereotypical beliefs and prejudicial evaluations (Gollwitzer & Schaal, 1998). In various priming studies, with short stimulus-onset asynchronies of less than 300 ms between primes (presentations of members of stigmatized groups) and targets (adjectives describing relevant stereotypical attributes or neutral positive-negative adjectives), implementation intentions helped to inhibit both the automatic activation of stereotypical beliefs and the prejudicial evaluations relative to women, the elderly, and the 34. Automaticity in Goal Pursuit 637 homeless. These implementation intentions (i.e., if-then plans) specified being confronted with a member of the critical group in the if part, and either "Then I won't stereotype" (respectively, "Then I won't evaluate negatively") or "Then I will ignore the group membership" in the then part. Regardless of which then parts were used, both types of suppression-oriented implementation intentions were effective. The research presented in the preceding two paragraphs used implementation intentions that specified a potential interference in the if part. The specified interference was linked to a then part that described an attempt at suppressing the unwanted negative influence of this interference on one's goal pursuit. Self-regulation by this type of implementation intention implies that one has to be in a position to anticipate these potential interferences on the way to the goal; one even needs to know what kind of unwanted responses these interferences elicit, if one prefers to specify not showing this response in the then part of the implementation intention (rather than showing a goal-directed response or simply ignoring the interfering event). Fortunately, a simpler way to use implementation intentions to protect an ongoing goal pursuit from getting derailed is also available. Instead of gearing one's implementation intentions toward anticipated potential interferences and the disruptive responses they trigger, one may form implementation intentions geared at stabilizing the ongoing goal pursuit at hand. We again use the example of a tired person who is approached by her friend with an outrageous request, and who will likely respond in an unfriendly manner: If this person has stipulated in advance in an implementation intention what she will converse about with her friend, the critical interaction may simply run off as planned, and being tired should thus fail to affect the person's relating to her friend. As is evident from this example, the present self-regulatory strategy should be of special value whenever the influence of detrimental self-states (e.g., being tired, irritated, anxious) on derailing one's goal-directed behavior has to be controlled. This should be true whether or not such self-states and/or their negative influences on one's goal-directed behavior reside in consciousness. Gollwitzer and Bayer (2000; Gollwitzer, Bayer, & McCulloch, 2005) tested this hypothesis in a series of experiments in which participants were asked (or not) to make if-then plans regarding the implementation of an assigned task goal. Prior to beginning work on the task, participants' self-states were manipulated, so that the task at hand became more difficult (e.g., a state of self-definitional incompleteness prior to a task that required perspective taking; Gollwitzer & Wickfund, 1985; a good mood prior to a task that required evaluation of others nonstereotypically; Bless & Fiedler, 1995; and a state of ego-depletion prior to solving difficult anagrams; Baumeister, 2000; Muraven, Tice, & Baumeister, 1998). The induced critical self-states negatively affected task performance only for those participants who had not planned out in advance how they wanted to perform the task at hand (i.e., had only set themselves the goal to come up with a great performance). Implementation intention participants were effectively protected from the negative influences associated with the induced detrimental self-states. This research provides a new perspective on the psychology of self-regulation. Commonly, effective self-regulation (Baumeister, Heatherton, & Tice, 1994) is understood in terms of strengthening the self, so that the self can meet the challenge of being a powerful executive agent. Therefore, most research on goal-directed self-regulation focuses on strengthening the self in such a way that threats and irritations become less likely, or on restoring an already threatened or irritated self. All of these maneuvers are targeted in the end on changing the self, so that the self becomes a better executive. Instead, the findings of Gollwitzer and Bayer (2000) suggest a perspective on goal-directed self-regulation that gets around changing the self by facilitating action control via linking it to situational cues. People's goal pursuits, however, are threatened not only by detrimental self-states but also by adverse situational conditions. Many situations have negative effects on goal attainment, unbeknownst to the person who is striving for the goal. A prime example is the social loafing phenomenon, in which people show reduced effort in the face of work settings that produce a reduction of account- 638 VI. SELF-REGULATORY PROCESSES ability (i.e., performance outcomes can no longer be checked at an individual level). Because people are commonly not aware of this phenomenon, they cannot form implementation intentions that specify a social loafing situation as a critical situation, thereby rendering an implementation intention that focuses on suppressing the social loafing response as an unviable self-regulatory strategy. As an alternative, people may again resort to forming implementation intentions that stipulate how the intended task is to be performed, thus effectively blocking any negative situational influences. Supporting this contention, when Endress (2001) performed a social loafing experiment that used a brainstorming task (i.e., participants had to find as many different uses for a common knife as possible), she observed that implementation intentions ("And if I have found one solution, then I will immediately try to find a different solution!"), but not goal intentions ("I will try to find as many different solutions as possible!"), protected participants from social loafing effects. Findings reported by Trötschel and Gollwitzer (2004) also support the notion that goal pursuits planned by forming implementation intentions become invulnerable to adverse situational influences. In their experiments on the self-regulation of negotiation behavior, loss-framed negotiation settings failed to unfold their negative effects on fair and cooperative negotiation outcomes when the negotiators had in advance planned out their goal intentions to be fair and cooperative, with if-then plans. Finally, in further experiments, Gollwitzer (1998) observed that competing goal intentions activated outside of a person's awareness (by using goal-priming procedures described in the first part of this chapter) failed to affect a person's ongoing goal pursuit, if this goal pursuit was planned out in advance via implementation intentions. It appears, then, that the self-regulatory strategy of planning out goal pursuits in advance via implementation intentions allows the person to reap the desired positive outcomes, without having to change the environment from an adverse to a facilitative one. This is very convenient, because such environmental change is often very cumbersome (e.g., it takes the costly interventions of mediators to change the loss frames adopted by conflicting parties into gain frames), or not under the person's control. Moreover, people are often not aware of the adverse influences of the current environment (e.g., a deindividuated work setting or a loss-framed negotiation setting), or they do not know what alternative kind of environmental setting is actually facilitative (e.g., an individualized work setting or a gain-framed negotiation setting). In such performance situations, the self-regulatory strategy of specifying critical situations in the if part of an implementation intention and linking them to a coping response in the then part does not qualify as a viable alternative self-regulatory strategy. Rather, people need to resort to the strategy of planning out their goal pursuits in advance via implementation intentions, thereby protecting them from adverse situational influences. Motivation Control Ideally, people set themselves goals in line with their beliefs that the goal can actually be attained (i.e., goal strength reflects perceived feasibility; Oettingen, 2000; Oettingen, Pak, & Schnetter, 2001). Such beliefs may take the form of high-outcome expectations or more specific high self-efficacy expectations (i.e., beliefs that one possesses what it takes to reach the goal; Bandura, 1997). In any case, a person who has decided to strive for a certain goal on the basis of high expectations should be highly motivated to strive for the chosen goal. Still, one wonders what happens when people run into difficulties in trying to implement the goal. Will they simply adjust their outcome expectations and self-efficacy beliefs downwards, thus losing motivation to strive for the goal? As Kuhl (1984) has pointed out, people can and do push back by keeping up their motivation to pursue the goal at hand (i.e., they engage in motivation control). Because overcoming the self-doubts originating from difficulties and failures is a rather complex affair for which some people may be better equipped than others (Dweck, 1999; Elliot & Thrash, 2002), Gollwitzer and Bayer (2004) wondered whether the self-regulatory strategy of forming implementation intentions could be used to facilitate such motivation control. In a first ex- 34. Automacicity in Goal Pursuit 639 periment, high school students were asked to perform a very challenging math test composed of 10 individual problems. In the mere goal intention condition, the students had to take the test with the assigned goal of excelling on it (i.e., correctly solve a very large number of problems). In the implementation intention condition, participants had to furnish this goal intention with the following if-then plan: "And as soon as I start to work on a new problem, then I tell myself: I can do it!" Even though the mean number of problems solved was very low in the whole sample (i.e., 3.5 problems), implementation intention participants solved significantly more problems (4.3 problems) than mere goal intention participants (2.8 problems). Apparently, the simple plan of assuring themselves of their high self-efficacy when taking on a new, individual problem helped participants to perform well. In a follow-up experiment, we asked college students to solve a series of Raven Matrices that became increasingly more difficult. We again established a mere goal intention group (i.e., correctly solve a very large number of matrices) and an implementation intention group (i.e., "As soon as I start working on a new matrix, I'll tell myself that I can do it"). In addition, there was also a group of goal intention participants who had to tell themselves right after having received the goal intention instruction that they could meet this goal (i.e., "I can do it!"). As it turned out, only the implementation intention group achieved a superior performance on the test. This finding suggests that again, implementation intentions allow for effective motivation control, and that this is achieved by linking self-assuring statements to distinct critical cues. Switching to More Effective Means There is a further self-regulatory problem with successfully moving toward goal attainment: switching to better means when the chosen means turn out to be unproductive (Carver & Scheier, 1999; Gollwitzer, 1990). People often fail readily to disengage from a chosen failing strategy or means because of a strong self-justification motive (Brockner, 1992). Such escalation effects should be reduced effectively, however, by the use of implementation intentions that specify exactly when to switch to a different strategy or means, because action control is then delegated to this specified cue. The self-regulatory strategy of simply setting goals (e.g., to avoid the escalation of commitment by always pursuing the best strategy) should be comparatively less effective, because it demands effortful deliberation of the instrumentality of the chosen strategy or means in situ (i.e., when failure experiences are mounting), which—to make things worse— will likely be biased by self-defensiveness. Henderson, Gollwitzer, and Oettingen (2004, Study 1) tested the hypothesis that furnishing disengagement goals with implementation intentions should help people to relinquish a failing strategy of goal pursuit more effectively. For this purpose, a classic paradigm was used that creates a strong escalation tendency (Bobocel & Meyer, 1994): Participants had to choose and subsequently justify their choice among four different strategies of performing an-assigned test measuring an important aptitude (i.e., general academic knowledge). Prior to working on the test with the chosen strategy, participants in the mere goal intention condition repeated the statement, "I will always pursue the best strategy!" Participants in the implementation intention condition repeated this goal intention to themselves, along with the plan, "And if I receive disappointing feedback, then I'll switch to a different strategy!" In line with our expectations that implementation intentions facilitate switching to a different strategy, 19 out of 29 participants (66%) in the goal intention group, and 27 out of 29 participants [93%) in the implementation intention group, disengaged from their initial strategy when false failure feedback was given on participants' quality of test performance. The Psychological Mechanisms Underlying Implementation Intention Effects It is assumed (Gollwitzer, 1993) that implementation intentions manage to switch the conscious and effortful mode of the control of goal-directed action to the automatic mode of action control (i.e., direct control by specified internal or external cues). To empirically test such a shift, it does not suffice to show that many of the problems of 640 VI. SELF-REGULATORY PROCESSES goal pursuit that are difficult to master by conscious and effortful self-regulation are more easily mastered by forming implementation intentions (as has been extensively demonstrated in the studies reported earlier). One would also like to see experiments that more directly assess whether the action control achieved by implementation intentions does indeed carry features of automaticity: immediate, efficient, and not requiring conscious intent. Implementation Intentions: The Specified Situation Swift and efficient responding to the critical situation specified in the if part of an implementation intention implies that this situation is readily attended to and easily detected (Gollwitzer, Bayer, Steller, Sc Bargh, 2002). One study, using a dichotic-listening paradigm, demonstrated that words describing the anticipated critical situation were highly disruptive to focused attention in implementation intention participants compared to goal intention participants (i.e., the shadowing performance of the focused attention materials decreased). In another study using an embedded figures test (Gottschaldt, 1926), where smaller a-figures are hidden within larger b-figures, enhanced detection of the hidden a-figures was observed with participants who had specified the a-figure in the if part of an implementation intention (i.e., had made plans on how to create a traffic sign from the a-figure). Similarly, Aarts, Dijksterhuis, and Midden (1999) used a lexical decision task and found that the formation of implementation intentions led to subjects' faster lexical decisions for those words that described the critical situation. Implementation Intentions: The Specified Goal'Directed Behavior The postulated automation of action initiation has also been supported by the results of various experiments that tested immediacy, efficiency, and the presence-absence of conscious intent. Gollwitzer and Brand-stätter (1997, Study 3) demonstrated the immediacy of action initiation in a study in which participants had been induced to form implementation intentions that speci- fied viable opportunities for presenting counterarguments to a series of racist remarks made by a confederate. Participants with implementation intentions initiated counterarguments sooner than did participants who had formed the mere goal intention to counterargue. The efficiency of action initiation was further explored in two experiments using a go-no-go task embedded as a secondary task in a dual-task paradigm (Brandtstätter, Lengfelder, & Gollwitzer, 2001, Studies 3 and 4). Participants formed the goal intention to press a button as fast as possible if numbers appeared on the computer screen, but not if letters were presented. Participants in the implementation intention condition additionally made the plan to press the response button particularly fast if the number three was presented. Implementation intention participants showed a substantial increase in speed of responding to the number three compared to the control group, regardless of whether the simultaneously demanded primary task (a memorization task in Study 3 and a tracking task in Study 4) was either easy or difficult to perform. Apparently, the immediacy of responding induced by implementation intentions is also efficient, in the sense that it does not require much in the way of cognitive resources (i.e., can be performed even when demanding dual tasks have to be performed at the same time). Two experiments by Bayer, Moskowitz, and Gollwitzer (2002) tested whether implementation intentions lead to action initiation even in the absence of conscious intent. In these experiments, the critical situation was presented subliminally, and immediacy of initiation of the goal-directed response was assessed. Results indicated that subliminal presentation of the critical situation led to a speed-up in responding in implementation participants but not in goal intention participants. These effects suggest that, when planned via implementation intentions, the initiation of goal-directed behavior becomes triggered by the presence of the critical situational cue, without the need for further conscious intent. Additional process mechanisms underlying the effects of implementation intentions on action control have been explored. For instance, furnishing goals with implementa- 34. Automaticity in Goal Pursuit 641 tion intentions might produce an increase in goal commitment, which in turn cause heightened goal attainment. However, this hypothesis has not received any empirical support. For instance, when Brandstätter et al. (2001, Study 1) analyzed whether heroin addicts suffering from withdrawal would benefit from forming implementation intentions to submit a newly composed curriculum vitae before the end of the day, they also measured participants' commitment to do so. While the majority of the implementation intention participants succeeded in handing in the curriculum vitae in time, none of the goal intention participants succeeded in this task. These two groups, however, did not differ in terms of their goal commitment ("I feel committed to compose a curriculum vitae" and "I have to complete this task") measured after the goal intention and implementation intention instructions had been administered. This finding was replicated with young adults who participated in a professional development workshop (Oettingen et al., 2000, Study 2), and analogous results were reported in research on the effects of implementation intentions on meeting health promotion and disease prevention goals (e.g., Orbell et al., 1997). Potential Costs of Action Control via Implementation Intentions Given the many benefits of forming implementation intentions, a question of any possible costs arises. Two issues have been analyzed empirically so far: First, forming implementation intentions may be a very costly self-regulatory strategy if it produces a high degree of ego depletion and consequently handicaps needed self-regulatory resources. Second, even though implementation intentions can successfully suppress unwanted thoughts, feelings, and actions in a given context, these very thoughts, feelings, and actions may rebound in a temporally subsequent, different context. The assumption that implementation intentions subject behavior to the direct control of situational cues (Gollwitzer, 1993) implies that the self is not implicated when behavior is controlled via implementation intentions. As a consequence, the self should not become depleted when task performance is regulated by implementation intentions. Indeed, using different ego-depletion paradigms, research participants who used implementation intentions to self-regulate in one task did not show reduced self-regulatory capacity in a subsequent task. Whether the initial self-regulation task was controlling emotions while watching a humorous movie (Gollwitzer & Bayer, 2000) or performing a Stroop task (Webb & Sheeran, 2003, Study 1), implementation intentions successfully preserved self-regulatory resources, as demonstrated by greater persistence on subsequent difficult or unsolvable tasks. To test whether suppression-oriented implementation intentions create rebound effects, Gollwitzer, Trötschel, and Sumner (2004) ran two experiments using research paradigms developed by Macrae, Bodenhausen, and Jetten (1994). In both studies, participants first had to suppress the expression of stereotypes in a first-impression formation task that focused on a particular member of a stereotyped group {i.e., homeless people). Rebound was measured in terms of either subsequent expression of stereotypes in a task that demanded the evaluation of the group of homeless people in general (Study 1), or a lexical decision task that assessed the accessibility of homeless stereotypes (Study 2). Participants who had been assigned the mere goal of controlling stereotypical thoughts while forming an impression of the given homeless person were more stereotypical in their judgments of homeless people in general (Study 1) and showed a higher accessibility of homeless stereotypes (Study 2) than participants who had been asked to furnish this lofty goal with relevant if-then plans. Rather than causing rebound effects, implementation intentions appear to be effective in preventing them. Although implementation intentions seem to achieve their effects without much cost, this does not mean that the regulation of goal pursuit via implementation intentions is foolproof. In everyday life, people may not succeed in forming effective implementation intentions for various reasons. For instance, in the if part of an implementation intention, a person may specify an opportunity that hardly ever arises. Or in the then part of an implementation intention, people may falsely specify behaviors that have zero instrumentality with respect to reaching the 642 VI. SELF-REGULATORY PROCESSES goal, or behaviors that turn out to be outside of people's control. There is also the question of how concretely people should specify the if and then parts in their implementation intentions. If the goal is to perform well on a given task goal, one can form an implementation intention that holds either this very behavior in the then part or a more concrete operation-alization of it. The latter seems appropriate whenever a whole array of specific opera-tionalizations is possible, because planning in advance which type of goal-directed behavior is to be executed, once the situation specified in the if part of the implementation intention is encountered, prevents disruptive deliberation in situ (with respect to choosing one behavioral strategy over another). An analogous argument applies to the specification of situations in the if part of an implementation intention. People should specify the situation in the if part to such a degree that a given situation will no longer raise the question of whether it qualifies as the critical situation. Finally, simply concretizing a goal intention by putting more context-related information into the description of the desired behavior (e.g., "I will solve math problems at my desk each Wednesday at 10 P.M.!") will not achieve the same beneficial action control effects as a goal intention ("I will solve math problems!") that is furnished with a implementation intention ("And if it is 10 RM. on Wednesday, then I will sit down at my desk!"; Oettingen et al., Study 3). Summary of Research on Automating Goal Pursuit by Forming Implementation Intentions The benefits of the self-regulation strategy of forming implementation intentions is evident in the numerous studies documenting the effects of implementation intentions in helping people overcome the various problems of goal pursuit. Whether getting started, staying on track in the face of interferences, holding up motivation, or switching to more effective means, research participants who formed implementation intentions were better in solving these problems than research participants who operated on the basis of mere goal intentions. This research also indicates that people may want to adjust the type of implementation intention formed to the self-regulation problem at hand. For instance, while suppression-oriented implementation intentions are viable when certain distractions, temptations, and unwanted responses are anticipated, plans that bolster the ongoing goal pursuit are needed in situations in which goal pursuit is threatened by detrimental self-states and adverse situational influences of which the individual is not aware. Research on the potential costs of using implementation intentions indicates that they do not drain self-regulatory resources (i.e., produce ego depletion), and suppression-oriented implementation intentions are not associated with rebound. Thus, forming implementation intentions suggests itself as an effective and quite cost-free self-regulatory strategy of goal pursuit; people can achieve strong effects by making simple plans. CONCLUSIONS The idea of unconscious motivation has a long intellectual history but has only recently become integrated into mainstream psychological science. Theoretical advances in cognitive psychology over the past quarter-century have made the notion of unconscious motivation much more plausible than before, enabling researchers to generate models of unconscious motivational influences that are in harmony with basic cognitive principles. By thinking about goals as another form of mental representation, subject to the same rules and principles as are known to hold for other mental representations, researchers have established the effects of unconsciously operating information-processing, achievement, and interpersonal goals. And by testing the effects of making if-then plans (i.e., forming implementation intentions that specify an anticipated critical situation and link it to an instrumental goal-directed response) on overcoming classic problems of goal pursuit, researchers have discovered that people may strategically (i.e., by a conscious act of will) automate their goal pursuits by setting up action plans in advance. All of this implies that competent performances may come about not only by con- 34. Automaticity in Goal Pursuit 643 scious goal setting and conscious guidance of the respective goal pursuits but also by relying on the automatic activation and pursuit of goals one has been striving for in the past. And if people cannot fall back on such positive past experiences, there is still the option of automating goal pursuit strategically by preparing it ahead of time in the form of making if-then plans. ACKNOWLEDGMENTS Preparation of this chapter was supported by National Institutes of Health Grant No. R01-60767 to John A. Bargh and National Institutes of Health Grant No. R01-67100 to Peter M. Gollwitzer. The collaboration of the two authors was facilitated by the Interdisciplinary Center for Research on Intentions and Intentionality at the University of Konstanz. REFERENCES Aarts, H., Dijksterhuis, A., & Midden, C. (1999). To plan or not to plan? 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Control and automaticity in social life. In D. Gilbert, S. Fiske, & G. Lindzey (Eds.), Handbook of social psychology (4th ed., Vol. I, pp. 446^96). Boston: McGraw-Hill. Wicklund, R. A., & Goilwitzer, P. M. (1982). Symbolic self-completion. Hillsdale, NJ: Erlbaum. Wilson, T. D., & Brekke, N. C. (1994). Mental contamination and mental correction: Unwanted influences on judgments and evaluation. Psychological Bulletin, 116, 117-142. IMAGINATION CHAPTER 35 Fantasies and the Self-Regulation of Competence GABRIELE, OETTINGEN MEIKE HAGENAH Competence may be studied not only in terms of whether people behave in competent ways when solving certain problems (e.g., academic, professional, and social), but also in terms of how they think and feel about their competencies. Such subjective or perceived competence has predominantly been conceptualized as beliefs or expectations. Examples are efficacy expectations (Bandura, 1977, 1997), competence expectancies (Elliot &C Church, 1997), agency beliefs (Little, Oettingen, Stetsenko, & Baltes, 1995; Oettingen, Little, Lindenberger, &c Baltes, 1994; Skinner, Chapman, & Baltes, 1988), control beliefs (Skinner, Wellborn, &c Connell, 1990), perceived control (Skinner, 1996), and control appraisals (Jensen & Karoly, 1991). Construing perceived competence as beliefs or expectations, however, ignores that people conceive of their competencies also in other forms of thought. In this chapter, we focus on such other forms of thought in the form of fantasies and daydreams about the future, in which people mentally depict themselves solving given problems in a competent way. We investigate people's daydreams and fantasies about how wonderful it will be to have realized their competencies, and how gloriously they will behave on the way to attaining such positive outcomes. Fantasies about future competencies should have different motivational consequences than competence beliefs and expectations. In the first part of the chapter, we analyze perceived competence in terms of expectations of the future on the one hand, and in terms of daydreams and fantasies about the future on the other. We show that the motivational impact of competence expectations dramatically differs from that of competence fantasies. Specifically, competence expectations facilitate motivation and successful performance, whereas competence fantasies turn out to be an impediment. However, competence fantasies do not always hurt motivation. When they are mentally contrasted with the reality that stands in the way of at- 647 648 VI. SELF-REGULATORY PROCESSES taining them, they merge with competence expectations to result in binding competence goals with subsequent goal striving and goal attainment. Experimental studies support these ideas in various life domains (academic, professional, and interpersonal). They also attest to the benefits of the mental contrasting procedure under critical conditions, such as when people are confronted with strong negative feedback or need to perform in front of a highly evaluative audience. SUBJECTIVE COMPETENCE: EXPECTATIONS VERSUS FANTASIES Competence Expectations Subjective competence has been conceptualized as competence beliefs or competence expectations. These are judgments about one's present or future competencies that are based on past behavior. Expectations are thus informed by one's experiences and thereby represent a person's performance history (Bandura, 1977, 1997; Mischel, 1973; Mischel, Cantor, & Feldman, 1996; Olson, Roese, &c Zanna, 1996). Observed performances of others, persuasive messages received by respected others, and experienced levels of arousal during performance are also known to influence expectations (Bandura, 1977, 1997; Bandura & Locke, 2003). The content of competence beliefs and expectations depends on the content of the objective competence on which the person is focusing. Objective competence in turn may be described by successful learning (Schunk, 1989), by achieving high grades and test scores, or simply by demonstrating a strong performance on a given task (Elliot & McGregor, 2001; Pajares & Miller, 1994; Shell, Colvin, & Bruning, 1995). Finally, both subjective and objective competence may be conceived in terms of how they are anchored (i.e., defined in absolute, intrapersonal, or normative standards; Butler, 1998; Elliot & McGregor, 2001; Rheinberg, 1998; Ruble & Frey, 1991), their regulatory focus (i.e., promotion vs. prevention; Hig-gins, 1997), their valence and means by which they are approached (i.e., framed as success vs. failure and as approach vs. avoid- ance; Atkinson, 1957; Elliot & McGregor, 2001; Elliot & Thrash, 2002; McClelland, 1980; Murray, 1938), and in terms of the strategies used to achieve them (eager vs. vigilant strategies; Higgins, Idson, Freitas, Spiegel, & Molden, 2003). Because high-competence beliefs are based on successful performance in the past, on observational learning, and on persuasion by informed sources, they can be taken as a valid signal that behavioral investment will pay off in the future. Thus, it comes as no surprise that investigations of the predictive value of high-subjective competence in the form of beliefs or expectations have yielded a large number of findings consistently pointing in the same direction: High-subjective competence predicts strong behavioral investment and, thus, the accumulation of objective competence. These findings hold true (Lent, Brown, & Hackett, 1994; see meta-analysis by Multon, Brown, & Lent, 1991) whether competence expectations are operationalized as self-efficacy beliefs (beliefs on whether one can implement a specific behavior necessary for a specified desired outcome; Bandura, 1997; Pietsch, Walker, &C Chapman, 2003; Schunk, 1989) or as more global agency or control beliefs (beliefs on whether one generally behaves in a way that leads to desired outcomes; Little et al., 1995; Oettingen et al., 1994; Skinner et al., 1988). Strongest relations between subjective and objective competence have been observed when both variables match in level of specificity (Lent, Brown, & Gore, 1997). Findings that attest to the predictive power of competence expectations not just amass for academic and professional achievement. Positive competence expectations predict objective competence also in the athletic and in the health domains (McAuley, 1985, 1993). High-competence expectations facilitate the initiation and maintenance of health-promoting and disease-preventing behaviors (McAuley, 1993; Wilcox & Storandt, 1996), warding off health damaging and risky activities (O'Leary, 2001), and recovery after surgery (Scheier et al., 2003). In addition, by increasing objective competence, competence expectations have benefited further variables such as mental health (Bandura, Pastorelli, 35. Fantasies and Competence 649 Barbaranelli, & Carprara, 1999) and well-being (Christensen, Stephens, & Townsend, 1998; Lachman & Weaver, 1998). Competence Fantasies Subjective competence, however, does not need to be conceptualized in the form of beliefs or expectations. As noted earlier, competence might occupy our thoughts also in the form of mental images or fantasies. Beliefs and images were first distinguished by William James (1890/1950, Vol. I): "Everyone knows the difference between imagining a thing and believing in its existence, between supposing a proposition and acquiescing in its truth" (p. 283). James's differentiation between believing and imagining pertains to events of the past and present. Following his reasoning, we differentiate two kinds of thinking about the future: expectancy judgments (beliefs) that assess the' probability of occurrence of future events (behaviors and outcomes), and fantasies (images) that depict such future events per se. Consequently, positive competence expectations are beliefs that a desired competence is likely to be reached; positive competence fantasies about the future, to the contrary, are positively experienced images of future competencies that emerge in the stream of thought. In such fantasies about the future, people can embellish events and scenarios regarding their own competencies regardless of their past behavior and performance, and regardless of how likely it is that they will ever attain these competencies. People might see themselves as Harry Potter on the broom, as elegant figure skaters spinning pirouettes and getting ready for high jumps, as speaking Chinese fluently, or as being celebrated for having authored a brilliant play. People usually know very well that these fantasies are disconnected from what they believe will come true, and that the chances of successfully obtaining these futures are minute. Glorious competence fantasies, however, might not necessarily come in the form of such Zauberdenken (i.e., thoughts depicting actions and events that violate natural laws or social norms; Lewin, 1926; Mahler, 1933). People also fantasize about not yet realized but principally possible competen- cies. For example, they may fantasize of their competence to combine work and family life, to attain a longed for job, to regularly practice health behavior, or to shake off the squeeze of time. In this sense, fantasies are similar to daydreams (i.e., thoughts pertaining to immediate or delayed desires, including instrumental activities to attain the desired outcomes; Klinger, 1971). However, even if daydreams or fantasies about one's future competencies obey natural and social laws, they still can be disconnected from expectations or probabilities of successfully reaching these competencies, due to the fact that daydreams and fantasies are not constrained by the cognitive mechanisms that make people appraise factual information (Klinger, 1971, 1990; Singer, 1966). In short, people can experience future blessings in their fantasies, without considering the probabilities that these blessings will actually occur. THE MOTIVATIONAL FUNCTION OF SUBJECTIVE COMPETENCE: EXPECTATIONS VERSUS FANTASIES Competence expectations, by applying past facts to predict future events (Bandura, 1977; Mischel, 1973), promise that future investment is worthwhile. To the contrary, competence fantasies fail to be a valid signpost for action. Rather, they tempt the person to mentally enjoy desired competencies in the present moment, concealing the necessity to still realize them in actuality. Therefore, fantasizing about one's future competencies should trigger little motivation to actually attain the mentally enjoyed abilities. Moreover, fantasies about a trouble-free path to accumulate competencies should hinder the preparation for upcoming obstacles and the hammering out of effective plans specifying how to overcome such obstacles. Lacking preparatory action and careful planning should further compromise motivation and attaining objective competence. Positive competence fantasies may focus on having successfully achieved competence, moving smoothly toward achieving it, or both. Regardless of whether such competence fantasies are outcome- or process- 650 VI. SELF-REGULATORY PROCESSES based, they should produce little motivation and weak performance. If, however, individuals question a future of unlimited competence and its smooth attainment, the desired future should no longer be experienced as merely enjoyable but as something to be achieved in actuality. People can now lay out the road to achieving competence successfully, prepare for setbacks and hindrances, exert effort, and show persistence. In summary, whereas positive expectations about future competence should predict effortful action and the achievement of objective competence, positive fantasies should predict the reverse. The following two studies test this idea of a differential relation between competence expectations and competence fantasies, and actually achieved competence. In each study, we assessed competence expectations and competence fantasies at least 1 week before we measured effort and success in building objective competence. We operationalized competence expectations by the perceived probability of building competence, and we measured competence fantasies by using idiographic techniques tapping participants' thoughts and images about their achieving respective competencies in the future. Building Academic Competence Right before their midterm examination, college students enrolled in an introductory psychology class were asked to indicate the grade they would like to obtain in the course. To measure expectations, we asked participants to indicate the likelihood that they would actually receive this course grade (Oettingen & Mayer, 2002; Study 3). We then assessed their course grade-related fantasies. Participants completed a scenario in writing that depicted them as already having taken all the exams and being on their way to the building in which the course grades are posted. Immediately thereafter, participants rated the experienced positivity-negativity of the reported thoughts and images. Objectively achieved competence was measured by the change of course grades from the midterm (when expectations and fantasies were assessed) to the final exam. Previous research has amply documented that high competence expectations build ac- ademic competence. This is true for students of different ages and educational backgrounds, and with respect to a variety of indicators (e.g., standardized tests, course grades, solving intellectual tasks, application of learning strategies; Lent et al., 1997; Schunk, 1982, 1989; Zimmerman & Marti-nez-Pons, 1992; see summaries by Bandura, 1997; Multon et al., 1991). The predictive power of positive fantasies for achieving academic competence, however, has not been analyzed. Following the ideas presented earlier, we hypothesized and observed that students entertaining positive competence expectations put in much study effort and achieved comparatively well, while students entertaining positive competence fantasies failed to study hard and achieved comparatively low course grades from the midterm to the final exam. The predictive relation between positive fantasy and low performance was mediated by a lack of effort, as measured by the number of hours students had spent studying, by their reported study effort, and by the amount of extracredit work they had been handing in between their midterm and their final exam. Thus, positive fantasies led to less studying than more negatively toned fantasies, and this in turn produced lower levels of objective competence, as measured by course grades. This study investigated the role of expectations versus fantasies in building intellectual competence. In the next study, we addressed the role of the two ways of thinking about the future in building physical competence (Oettingen & Mayer, 2002, Study 4). The building of physical competence becomes a particularly pressing concern when frailty sets in, that is, in older adulthood. Building Physical Competence Participants in our study were older adults admitted to a hospital to undergo total-hip-replacement surgery, which is a commonly performed surgery in patients with osteoarthritis of the hip, the most frequent joint disorder and a particular problem in the elderly (Gogia, Christensen, & Schmidt, 1994). In surgery, affected bone and cartilage are removed and replaced with an artificial joint made from metal and plastic. Func- 35. Fantasies and Competence 651 tional disability and pain in the absence of primary and secondary preventive measures are the two predominant indications for total-hip-replacement surgery (Verbrugge, 1990). The day before surgery, we assessed participants' expectations and fantasies regarding their future physical competence. Two exemplary items measured expectations: "How likely do you think it is, that 2 weeks after surgery you will be able to go for a brief walk using an assistive cane?" and "How functionally able do you think will you be 3 months after surgery?" To assess competence fantasies, we asked participants to imagine in writing five scenarios to their completion, and then to rate their own thoughts and images. The scenarios pertained to various points in time after surgery {i.e., immediately after, end of hospital stay, and 3 months later). For example, one of the scenarios read: "At the end of your hospital stay, you want to buy a newspaper in the hospital's newspaper stand. As you are getting out of bed ..." After imagining a story to completion and writing down the respective thoughts and images, participants indicated how positively and how negatively they had experienced their thoughts and images. As a response to the scenario just described, one participant fantasized: "I am walking on the stairways without help, and I walk easily and quickly to the newspaper stand." However, another participant imagined herself as less competent: "I am trying to walk to the door first, using my cane. But how shall I open the door? Uh, and then walking to the elevator? How will I ever get there?" Two weeks after surgery, while participants were still in the hospital, each physical therapist mainly responsible for a particular patient indicated the functional status of that patient's hip (Gogia et al., 1994). Physical therapists used classic indicators, such as degree of hip joint motion (i.e., abduction, extension, and flexion) and competence to walk on stairs (Dekker, Boot, van der Woude, & Bijlsma, 1992). In addition, they evaluated patients' general recovery (e.g., in terms of muscular strength and degree of pain). Competence expectations and competence fantasies differentially predicted actually achieved competence also in the physical domain. While competence expectations were precursors of objective competence, competence fantasies were a hindrance, and this was true whether patients' physical competence was measured via specific criteria (i.e., hip joint motion or walking on stairs) or via more general measures (i.e., general recovery). These findings stayed unchanged after controlling for presurgery hip condition (as assessed by the doctors), weight (70% of the sample was overweight), and gender. Subsequent content analyses of the patients' fantasies revealed that participants had idealized their future physical competence with respect to both outcome (they imagined possessing or having achieved competence) and process (they imagined an easy and effortless way to achieve competence). Though idealization of outcome was more frequent than idealization of process, both were positively related to the subjective measure of the positivity of competence fantasies. Thus, positively experienced fantasies contain both outcome and process in its idealized form, that is, the possession of high competence, as well as effortless and unencumbered progress toward attaining competence. Most importantly, however, it was the subjectively experienced competence fantasies rather than the expressed idealization, as picked up by the raters, that predicted low objective competence (i.e., functional status of the hip and successful recovery). This finding implies that the personal affective involvement in the created fantasies produces their motivational and performance consequences. Process Simulations and Illusory Optimism The previous studies support the notion that positive fantasies about future competencies, whether pertaining to the achieved outcome or to the process leading there, are a motivational burden, because they reduce effort to build competence and conceal the steps that are needed to develop it. Thus, this research differs from research on outcome versus process simulations (Taylor, Pham, Rivkin, & Armor, 1998). Taylor and colleagues found that process simulations (rehearsing the cumbersome steps needed to reach a set 652 VI. SELF-REGULATORY PROCESSES goal; e.g., getting an A) lead to more effort and superior performance than outcome simulations (rehearsing the enjoyment of reaching the goal) via reduced anxiety and heightened planning. This approach, to the contrary, focuses on the experienced affective tone of fantasies about the future and postulates that positive competence fantasies (both outcome and process) are a motivational hindrance. Furthermore, positive competence fantasies need to be distinguished from illusory optimism (Schneider, 2001; Taylor & Brown, 1988; Taylor, Kemeny, Reed, Bower, & Gruenewald, 2000). Because competence fantasies do not pertain to facts or likelihoods of occurrence, they cannot be taken as an indicator of illusory optimism. Only competence expectations can be illusory-optimistic, because they assess the future events' reality. This assessment of reality, then, can be more or less realistic (accurate) or illusory (inaccurate). Summary Subjective competence, depending on how it is conceptualized, predicts objective competence in differential ways. Assessed by expectancy judgments, subjective competence positively predicts improvement of objective competence, whereas, measured by affective tone of fantasies, it negatively predicts the development of objective competence. Effort and persistence mediate the negative relation between positive competence fantasies and the building of objective competence. We replicated this pattern of results in further areas of the health domain (e.g., chronic illness, Oettingen & Mayer, 2003, Study 4; weight loss, Oettingen & Wadden, 1991), as well as in different life domains such as the interpersonal domain (e.g., starting a romantic relationship, Oettingen &C Mayer, 2002, Study 2) and the professional domain (e.g., obtaining a desired job, Oettingen & Mayer, 2002, Study 1). In all of these studies, expectations and fantasies were measured long before we assessed the final measure of actual competence (up to 4 years). Given the results of these studies, positive fantasies about future competencies appear to be problematic when it comes to the motivational question of realizing these fantasies in actuality. However, positive compe- tence fantasies have a beneficial function, when it comes to the setting of goals. Specifically, they produce binding goals that are based on high competence expectations. For this purpose, competence fantasies about the future need to be contrasted with reflections on impediments of present reality. MERGING EXPECTATIONS AND FANTASIES INTO COMPETENCE GOALS: MENTAL CONTRASTING In his theory on proactive goal setting, Bandura (1991) argues that people who have successfully attained a goal will set themselves an even more aspiring goal due to their strengthened efficacy expectations. Social cognitive theory thus postulates two self-regulatory systems in attaining competence: A proactive discrepancy production system and a discrepancy reduction system (Bandura & Locke, 2003). Arguing that humans are motivated by foresight relative to where they want to be, rather than only by hindsight relative to what they did wrong, Bandura and Locke posed the following question: Discrepancy reduction is only half of the story and not necessarily the more interesting half. The greater challenge is to explain why people inflict on themselves high standards that demand hard work and beget a lot of stress, disappointments, and failures along the way rather than to explain why they should seek tranquility by matching a standard, (p. 91) Bandura and Locke maintain that people whose efficacy expectations have been strengthened by previous goal attainment will set themselves more aspiring goals. However, not every heightened efficacy expectation will be turned into a challenging goal. Thus, the question remains as to how people whose efficacy has been strengthened manage to set themselves binding goals. We provide an answer to this question by referring to the model of fantasy realization (Oettingen, 2000; Oettingen, Pak, & Schnetter, 2001), which specifies how fantasies about the future can be used to turn high expectations into aspiring goals that in turn lead to persistent goal striving and effective goal attainment. 35. Fantasies and Competence 653 The Model of Fantasy Realization The model of fantasy realization specifies three routes to goal setting that result from how people deal with their fantasies about a desired future (Oettingen, 1999, 2000; Oettingen et al., 2001). The first route to goal setting originates from solely fantasizing about a desired future. The second entails merely reflecting on the negative reality standing in the way of attaining these fantasies. The third route, finally, entails contrasting one's fantasies about the desired future with reflections on the negative impeding status quo. Three Routes to Goal Setting: Proposed Mechanisms The first route to goal setting is based on indulging in thoughts, fantasies, daydreams, and images about a desired future (e.g., be-' coming a lawyer, excelling in math, learning a language). Such fantasizing seduces a person into mentally enjoying the positive future in the here and now, because no reflections on reality point to the impediments of attaining the desired future. Therefore, goal commitment to realize the desired future (i.e., determination and effort to reach the goal, and persistence in pursuing it over time; Locke & Latham, 1990) should solely result from the implicit pull triggered by the positivity of the imagined future events. The second route to goal setting is based on dwelling on negative aspects of present reality that stand in the way of realizing the desired future (e.g., having not yet graduated, being distracted, and feeling lazy, respectively). Such reflections remain recurring ruminations, because no fantasies about the future designate the direction in which to act. Therefore, goal commitment to realize the desired future should solely reflect the implicit push triggered by the negativity of the reality events about which the person is thinking. The third route to goal setting entails mentally contrasting the desired future with negative aspects of impeding reality, such as contrasting thoughts of excelling in math with thoughts about being distracted from working on math improvement. Such mental contrast between a positive future and negative reality instigates a more complex goal-setting mechanism. Conjoint mental elaboration of the desired future and the present reality creates heightened simultaneous accessibility of cognition about both the desired future and the negative reality. In addition, the negative reality is viewed as an obstacle, or as "standing in the way" of realizing the desired future, thereby emphasizing a necessity to attain the desired future. This necessity to attain the future activates expectations, which then will be applied in goal setting. Thus, individuals engaging in mental contrasting should display flexible and strategic behavior, in that they refrain from setting themselves binding goals when expectations of success are low, but fully commit themselves to the attainment of the desired future when expectations of success are high. Because a necessity to attain the desired future only emerges after mental contrasting, but not after indulging or dwelling, indulging and dwelling should not activate relevant expectations. Thus, indulging and dwelling will make people fail to draw on expectations when setting themselves goals. The implicit pull and push should lead to moderate goal commitment that is independent of perceived chances of success. A series of experiments studying goal setting via the different modes of thought support these hypotheses. In the following sections we present two exemplary studies that pertain to attaining high competence in the academic and health domains. Specifically, the two studies investigate the role of indulging, dwelling, and mental contrasting in setting goals to attain competence in mathematics and in reducing cigarette consumption. Setting Competence Goals in the Academic Domain The fantasy theme of the study was excelling in mathematics (Oettingen et al., 2001; Study 4). Participants were male adolescents, freshmen enrolled in two vocational schools for computer programming. The curriculum entailed full-day training to become media or computer specialists, and mathematics was the critical subject in the first year of studies. Thus, accumulating competence in math was a most important desire in the lives of these adolescents concerned about their professional education. 654 VI. SELF-REGULATORY PROCESSES "We first measured participants' expectations to improve their competence in mathematics, and then asked them to name four positive aspects of improving in math and four negative aspects that impeded their improvement in math. We then established the three experimental groups, a fantasy-reality contrast (mental contrast) group, a fantasy-only (indulging) group, and a reality-only (dwelling) group. In the fantasy-reality contrast group, participants had to mentally elaborate in writing two positive aspects of improving their competence in math, and two negative aspects of impeding reality in alternating order, beginning with a positive aspect of the future. In the fantasy-only group, participants only had to mentally elaborate four aspects of improving in math, and in the reality-only group, participants only had to mentally elaborate four aspects of impeding reality. Directly following these mental exercises, all participants reported how energized they felt (e.g., energetic, active, eventful). Moreover 2 weeks after the experiment, we asked teachers to evaluate each student's effort for the past fortnight (e.g., how much persistent effort the student showed in studying math, and how intrinsically interested he or she was). In addition, to measure actual achieved competence, we asked teachers to give a course grade to each student. In mental contrast participants, we noted that reelings of energization, exerted effort, and achieved grades were more in line with competence expectations than in the indulging and dwelling participants. High-expectancy participants in the mental contrast group felt most energized, exerted most effort, and were given the highest course grades by their teachers. Low-expectancy participants, however, felt least energized, exerted least effort, and achieved the lowest course grades. To the contrary, indulging and dwelling participants felt moderately energized, independent of their expectations. Similarly, teachers rated them as showing moderate effort and gave them mediocre course grades, whether the students believed in their own competence or not. For the participating adolescents who are beginning their vocational training and still have career options available, mental contrasting seems beneficial. Those who have high chances to excel invest their time and effort in a promising career, while those with minor chances to excel do not invest in vain and thus can move on and use their energies otherwise (Carver &C Scheier, 1998). The pattern of goal commitment for indulging and dwelling participants seems less beneficial. Being implicitly pulled by the future or pushed by the reality, respectively, those with high expectations do not invest enough and thus suffer from failing to realize their potential. Those with low expectations, on the other hand, invest too much and thus waste their energies in a lost case; that is, both indulging and dwelling put people at risk in terms of being out of touch with their potential. Setting Competence Goals in the Health Domain The previous study described how expectations and fantasies can be merged to set goals geared at building academic competence. We now turn to an experiment that describes how mental contrasting can be used to set goals geared toward improving competence in the health domain (Oet-tingen, Mayer, & Thorpe, 2005a). Students who smoked were asked for their expectations relative to reducing their cigarette consumption or to stop smoking. Thereafter, all participants were asked to name four positive aspects of a future in which they had reduced their cigarette consumption and four aspects of impeding reality. As desirable aspects of the future, participants named, for example, physical fitness, self-respect, and pretty skin. As impeding aspects of present reality, they named stress, partying, and peer pressure. We then established the three experimental groups in the same way as in the experiment on developing math competence. Specifically, in the mental contrast group, participants had to elaborate two aspects of a future with fewer cigarettes and two aspects of impeding reality, in alternating order, beginning with a positive future aspect; in the positive future (indulging) group, participants elaborated four aspects of the positive future, and in the negative reality (dwelling) group, four aspects of negative reality. Thereafter, participants received a 14-day diary, in which they were to record in writing every cigarette they had smoked. Finally, 2 weeks after the experiment, we 35. Fantasies and Competence 655 asked participants to indicate the exact date when they had actually started to reduce their cigarette consumption. Participants in the mental contrast group reduced their cigarette consumption in line with their competence expectations, while those in the indulging and dwelling groups acted independently of their expectations to successfully resist cigarettes. In light of high expectations, contrasting participants tried to reduce their smoking right after the experiment, and tended to light fewer cigarettes per day than those in the indulging and dwelling groups, while the reverse was true for participants with low expectations. Summary Mental contrasting translated adolescents' high competence expectations into good mathematics grades and built competence even in participants showing addictive be-' haviors (smoking). For participants with low competence expectations, it prevented the setting of respective goals. Indulging and dwelling, to the contrary, led to goal setting that is disconnected from competence expectations, and thus from participants' past performance and experience. We replicated these results in further studies. In the academic domain, for example, experiments pertained to studying abroad (Oettingen et ah, 2001, Study 2), to combining work and family life (Oettingen, 2000, Study 2), and to acquiring a second language (Oettingen, Honig, & Gollwitzer, 2000, Study 1). In the interpersonal domain, experiments focused on solving interpersonal conflicts (Oettingen et al., 2001, Studies 1 and 2), on getting to know an attractive stranger (Oettingen, 2000, Study 1), and on successfully seeking help (Oettingen et al., 2005b, Study 3). In most of these studies, we used the salience paradigm described earlier; that is, participants rated their expectations of achieving the competence in question, generated positive aspects of having reached that competence and negative aspects potentially impeding such an achievement, then (depending upon condition) either mentally elaborated both future and reality, future only, or reality only. Another paradigm based on ignoring either reality (indulging), future (dwelling), or neither future nor reality (mental contrasting) by reinterpreting the reality and the future through minimizing or maximizing their validity, respectively, generated the same pattern of results (Oettingen, 2000, Study 2; Oettingen, Mayer, Thorpe, Janetzke, & Lorenz, in press, Study 1). The results hold for goal commitment assessed by cognitive, affective, and behavioral indicators (e.g., planning, anticipated disappointment in case of failure, financial investment) via self-report and observations, measured directly after the experiment or weeks later, and for samples of different cultural contexts (Europe and the United States). Mental contrasting turned out to be an easy to apply self-regulatory tool to increase objective competence, because the described effects were obtained even when participants elaborated the future and the reality only very briefly (i.e., were asked to imagine only one positive aspect of the desired future and one obstacle standing in the way of realizing the desired future; Oettingen et al., 2000, Study 1): Taken together, these findings indicate that perceiving the acquisition of competence as desirable (positive attitude or high incentive value; i.e., the person values mastery and competence) and feasible (perceived control or efficacy expectations; i.e., the person sees a high likelihood of achieving objective competence) is an important prerequisite for the emergence of strong goal commitments to excel (Ajzen & Fishbein, 1980; Ajzen & Madden, 1986). To create binding goals to excel in competence, however, people need to mentally contrast fantasies about the desired future with impeding reality; only then will high expectations be translated into respective goal commitments. So far we have shown that positive fantasies contrasted with negative reality help people to translate their high expectations into binding goal commitments geared toward achieving competence. In the study reported below, we explored whether negative fantasies contrasted with positive aspects of reality instigate goals that are geared toward avoiding incompetence. SETTING COMPETENCE GOALS: APPROACH VERSUS AVOIDANCE The distinctions between approach motivation and hope for success versus avoidance 656 VI. SELF-REGULATORY PROCESSES motivation and fear of failure have long been considered critical for decision making and action (Atkinson, 1957; Heckhausen, 1963; McClelland, 1980, Murray, 1938). In addition, Elliot and Thrash (2002) have pointed out that approach and avoidance temperaments meaningfully correlate to different types of achievement goals. Furthermore, there are life domains in which people have a hard time generating positive fantasies about the future and should thus be reluctant to form approach goals. For example, people who adhere to health-damaging behavior (e.g., excessive alcohol consumption) might not readily generate positive fantasies about stopping such behavior. Thus, it is important to ask whether mental contrasting can also regulate the setting of avoidance goals. To create relevant avoidance goals, we took advantage of the fearful images and daydreams that befall people when thinking about undesirable futures. Specifically, we made people generate fantasies about their continued giving in to behaviors known to be detrimental to their future health. Such fearful fantasies about a future of incompetence that are mentally contrasted with a positive reality potentially endangered by such incompetence (e.g., fantasies about failing to reduce cigarette consumption contrasted with reflections on one's current healthy body) should produce goals directed at avoiding this incompetence. The previously described study on smoking reduction tested these ideas by containing three further conditions that referred to negative fantasies about a feared future. Participants in these three conditions, instead of listing positive aspects of a future of reduced smoking and negative aspects of impeding reality, listed negative aspects of a future in which they continued to smoke at the present level (e.g., participants listed getting cancer, being a bad model for children, and lifelong addiction), then named positive aspects of present reality that they might lose if they continued to smoke at the present level (e.g., participants listed healthy lungs, pretty skin, physical endurance). We then established the three experimental groups. In the negative future-positive reality contrast group, participants alternated in their mental elaborations between negative fantasies about con- tinued smoking and positive aspects of reality that they might lose if they continued smoking at the present level. In the negative future group, participants only fantasized about the negative future of continued smoking. Finally, in the positive reality group, participants only reflected on positive aspects of the endangered reality. As described earlier, dependent variables included the number of cigarettes smoked, as recorded in the subsequent 14-day diary, and the immediacy of trying to reduce cigarette consumption (in days after the experiment). Participants in the negative fantasy-positive reality contrast group acted according to their competence expectations. High-expectation participants tended to smoke fewer cigarettes and started earlier to exert respective effort, while the reverse was true for low- expectation participants. To the contrary, those who indulged in their fearful fantasies and those who dwelled on their still-healthy body did not use their expectations as a guide for reducing their cigarette consumption. Only after mental contrasting did participants with high expectations form the goal to avoid the feared future of continued smoking. Summary Future fantasies, be they positive or negative, merge with competence expectations to form approach and avoidance goals, respectively. They only need to be contrasted with the relevant reality (i.e., with the negative reality when creating approach goals, and with the positive reality when creating avoidance goals). Indulging in the future, or dwelling on reality, whether the future and reality images are positive or negative, lead to the setting of goals that are independent of competence expectations. Because mental contrasting in light of high competence expectations produces the strong goal commitments we have observed (e.g., promoting course grades across a period of weeks and months; Oettingen et al., 2000, 2001), the question arises whether mental contrasting not only fosters goal setting but also benefits processes of goal striving. Critical processes of goal striving pertain to how people respond to negative feedback that they encounter on their way to 35. Fantasies and Competence 657 successful goal attainment. Furthermore, in her work on implicit theories about the nature of intelligence and the emergence of respective achievement goals, Carol Dweck and her colleagues have repeatedly pointed out that the pivotal issue in achieving competence is how people respond to negative feedback (Dweck, 1999; Dweck & Leggett, 1988; Grant & Dweck, 2003). Therefore, in the following section, we investigate how the three routes to goal setting influence responses to negative feedback. MENTAL CONTRASTING AND GOAL STRIVING: RESPONDING TO NEGATIVE FEEDBACK Mental contrasting in light of high expectations should foster the effective processing of negative feedback, because such negative feedback provides relevant clues on how' best to achieve the desired competence (Gollwitzer, 1996; Gollwitzer Sc Bayer, 1999). Appraising negative feedback as useful information for goal striving rather than as a sign of incompetence should, in addition, guarantee that it does not diminish one's self-view of competence (Dweck, 1999; Dweck & Leggett, 1988). Therefore, mental contrasting in light of high expectations should allow for effective processing of goal-relevant information, as well as for maintaining a robust self-view of competence, even after obtaining strong negative feedback. In two studies using the same paradigm, we tested whether mental contrasting would indeed serve such a dual purpose when it comes to responding to negative feedback. Mental Contrasting and the Processing of Negative Feedback In a simple cued recall experiment, we investigated whether mental contrasting in light of high expectations facilitates the processing of relevant negative feedback (Pak, 2002, Study 1). Students participated in two supposedly independent experiments. In the first experiment, which used a procedure similar to that in the experiments described earlier, students first named their most important current interpersonal concern. They listed, for example, "to get to know someone, " "to solve the problems with my partner," and "to get along with my roommate." Then they indicated their expectations of competently solving their concern, and listed four positive aspects of having solved it, as well as four aspects that might impede their solving this concern. As part of the second experiment, participants were asked to complete two different competence tests, one of which supposedly measured social competence. In the social competence test, students were asked to study a variety of art portraits and then to fill out semantic differential-type questionnaires about their impressions of the people depicted in these paintings. Finally, participants received 12 statements providing feedback; among them, the following three statements contained negative feedback relevant to their social competence: "In socially challenging situations, you are tense" "When communicating with other people, you are reserved, " and "In stressful social situations, you react impulsively." Thereafter, the three experimental groups were established: the mental contrast group, the indulging group, and the dwelling group, as in the experiments described earlier. Finally, participants had to report on the feedback they had received using a cued recall procedure. Recall performance was best in the high-expectancy mental contrast group, while the worst recall was observed in the low-expectancy mental contrast group. Indulging and dwelling participants recalled a medium number of words, independent of their competence expectations. This pattern of data implies that only mental contrasting participants with high competence expectations were eager to process information that was relevant to achieving the desired future competence; mental contrasting participants with low competence expectations failed to process the bothersome information that they did not deem important anymore. Finally, indulging and dwelling participants processed the negative feedback independently of their competence expectations. Whether they perceived their chances of solving the interpersonal problem as high or low (thus, whether the information was valuable or not), they always processed the same medium amount of negative feedback. 658 VI. SELF-REGULATORY PROCESSES Apparently, the three modes of self-regulatory thought not only differentially affect goal setting but also impact goal striving. Processing negative information with respect to one's goal pursuit should only be beneficial, however, if it does not create insecurities that undermine using the negative information to improve one's moving toward the goal. Accordingly, we wondered whether mental contrasting in light of high competence expectations protects a person from experiencing such insecurities due to negative feedback. Negative feedback should not force these individuals to diminish their relevant positive self-view of competence. Mental Contrasting and Self-View of Competence after Negative Feedback In this experiment (Pak, 2002, Study 2), using the same paradigm and design as the previous experiment, we measured change in self-view of social competence as a dependent variable. Specifically, participants again named an interpersonal concern, and indicated expectations of competently solving the concern. For a baseline measure regarding self-view of social competence, we asked the following two questions: "How would you estimate your social competence?" and "How would you estimate your interpersonal intelligence?" Participants then listed four positive future aspects of competently solving their interpersonal concern, and four negative reality aspects that stand in its way. Thereafter, in a supposed second experiment, they took a social competence test, similar to the test in the last experiment. We had established the three groups: mental contrasting fantasies of competently solving the interpersonal problem, indulging in those fantasies, and dwelling on impeding reality. In subsequent false-negative feedback, we told participants that their performance on the social competence test was very weak (i.e., they only had achieved 18 out of 60 points, which they were told was a very low performance in their age group), and that people with such test results would be plagued by conflicted and disharmonious relationships. While high-expectancy mental contrasting participants remained unaffected by this detrimental personal feedback, low-expectancy mental contrasting participants suffered from a dramatic loss in their self-view of social competence. Again, participants in the indulging and dwelling groups fared in between, independent of their expectations. It appears, then, that mental contrasting protects participants with high competence expectations from having their self-view shattered by negative feedback. Summary The findings so far suggest that mental contrasting influences objective competence by two different mechanisms. First, it causes people to set themselves feasible goals, and second, it facilitates goal striving through beneficial responses to negative feedback. These beneficial responses encompass processing goal-relevant negative feedback (thereby unveiling clues for effective goal striving} and preserving a stable positive self-view of competence even in the face of massive negative feedback (norm-oriented and person-oriented; Elliot & McGregor, 2001; Kamins & Dweck, 1999). People profit in their goal striving from both processing negative feedback (Bandura & Cervone, 1983; Carver & Scheier, 1998; Dweck, 1999; Dweck &c Leggett, 1988) and holding a positive self-view of competence (even illusory positive; Gollwitzer & Kinney, 1989; Taylor & Brown, 1988; Taylor & Gollwitzer, 1995; Taylor, Lerner, Sherman, Sage, & McDowell, 2003}. Accordingly, these findings suggest that mental contrasting provides access to the major tools of successful goal striving and goal attainment. By allowing appraisal of one's weaknesses, along with keeping a strong sense of overall competence in the face of offensive feedback, mental contrasting equips people for stressful situations. However, mental contrasting might also shelter people from stressful situations by other mechanisms. It might be even used to form goals explicitly geared toward competently coping with stress. MENTAL CONTRASTING AND SETTING GOALS TO COPE WITH STRESS Coping with stress has been widely studied in psychology. The literature largely considers coping as emerging from an interaction 35. Fantasies and Competence 659 between the environment and the individual. For example, Lazarus and Folkman (1984) conceptualize the coping process as consisting of primary appraisal, in which the individual appraises the features of the situation, and secondary appraisal, in which the individual appraises the resources available for dealing with the situation. The kinds and number of resources that people possess for altering or overcoming the stressor at hand are critical. We argue that individuals who have set themselves binding goals to deal with a stressful situation will more effectively maximize their resources (e.g., plan, exert effort, and persist) than individuals who are less committed to such goals. Indeed, Lazarus (1993) conceives of coping as a goal-directed process in which people direct their thoughts and actions toward the goal of mastering the stressor. Carver, Scheier, and Weintraub (1989), based on the model of behavioral self-regulation (Carver & Scheier, 1981), also have conceptualized effective coping with stress in terms of goal pursuit. In the COPE Inventory, they specified various scales capturing successful coping, some of which are synchronous with aspects of successful goal pursuit (e.g., planning, shielding against distractions, delay of gratification, and persistence; Carver et al., 1989). These goal-related scales predict effective coping (Carver et al., 1989), as do scales in further questionnaires that also focus on goal-related features (see summary by Compas, Connor-Smith, Saltzman, Thompsen, & Wadsworth, 2001). Accordingly, we hypothesized that setting binding goals to change or overcome a stressor should be an effective way to maximize one's coping resources, and to guarantee effective coping with stress. Mental contrasting should be a beneficial strategy to form goals geared at overcoming a stressor. When competence expectations to overcome the stressor are high (i.e., resources are plentiful), mental contrasting should translate these expectations into binding coping goals, with subsequent mastery of the stressor. When competence expectations to overcome the stressor are low, however, mental contrasting should lead people to turn their back to this stressor, thus conserving their resources for mastering less overwhelming stressors. Three exem- plary studies that tested these hypotheses are now described. Mental Contrasting and Coping with Chronic Stress In a pilot study, pediatric intensive care nurses indicated that their most disturbing and troublesome chronic everyday stressor was communication with patients' relatives. Therefore, we chose this aspect of the pediatric nurses' patient-provider communication as the topic of our experiment (Oettingen et al., 2005b, Study 1). Participants first indicated their competence expectations of being able to improve communication with patients' relatives. Subsequently, they listed aspects of a future in which they had competently mastered this stressor, and aspects of the negative reality that potentially impeded successful coping. The three experimental conditions were established in the same way as described earlier. In the mental contrast group, nurses had to generate both fantasies of effectively coping with the stressor and reflections on impeding obstacles, while in the indulging and dwelling groups, they had to come up with only future fantasies or only reality reflections, respectively. Two weeks later, as indicators of commitment to improve the relationship to the patients' relatives, we assessed respective effort (in number of steps taken; Oettingen et al., 2001), and willingness to take remedial action (readiness to participate in a workshop providing relevant information; Hong, Chiu, Dweck, Lin, & Wan, 1999). In light of high competence expectations (i.e., to be able to improve communication with patients' relatives), nurses in the mental contrast group showed the greatest effort to improve the relationship with patients' relatives and the greatest willingness to take remedial action, whereas the opposite held true for those whose competence expectations were low. Nurses who indulged or dwelled showed a moderate amount of effort and remedial action, irrespective of their beliefs in how much they could do for the patients' relatives. Thus, we have shown that mental contrasting influences coping with chronic stress. In the next study, we analyzed the role of mental contrasting in setting goals to cope with acute stress. 660 VI. SELF-REGULATORY PROCESSES Mental Contrasting and Coping with Acute Stress Economics students were told that they were participating in a study trying out a new recruitment tool for senior students entering the job market (Oettingen et al., 2005b, Study 2). Therefore, they had to give a presentation in front of a video camera, so that their talk could be evaluated by a group of human resources experts. Giving a presentation in front of a camera has been frequently used as an acute stressor [e.g., Britt, Cohen, Collins, & Cohen, 2001). Because the stressor is standardized and applied in the laboratory, it allows us to measure participants' appraisal of the stressor, as well as their in situ persistence and coping performance. Participants first noted how well they wanted to do in their presentations. To measure their competence expectations, we asked them how likely they thought it would be that they actually achieved their desired performance. As in the previous studies, participants named positive aspects of doing well (e.g., participants listed "Feeling good about myself," "Knowing I can cope with an interview situation," "Becoming confident about the application process") and negative aspect of impeding reality (e.g., participants listed "Not having enough time for preparation," "Feeling shy," "The stupid camera"). Finally, we established a mental contrast and an indulging condition (due to the complexity of the data collection, we did not include a dwelling condition) in the same manner as described in the previous studies. We observed a stronger link between competence expectations and coping effort (measured by length of presentation), as well as the quality of coping performance {assessed by independent raters blind to conditions), in the mental contrast condition than in the indulging condition. Thus, mental contrasting can be seen as a self-regulatory tool that makes people adjust their immediate coping responses to their available resources. In addition, mental contrasting and indulging predictably affected how participants appraised the impending stressor, how they felt about the stressor in the aftermath, and how well they considered themselves to be coping. These findings are important, because prospective appraisal of a situation has been found to influence the coping strategies people use (Carver & Scheier, 1994; Lazarus & Folkman, 1984). Moreover, retrospective appraisal of a stressor, as well as positive self-evaluations of one's coping efforts, will benefit appraisal of and responses to future stressors. Thus, by creating competence-based coping goals, mental contrasting fosters not only active and constructive coping responses toward the current stressor but also benefits coping responses toward similar stressors in the future. In summary, the results show the usefulness of mental contrasting for mastering acute stress and demonstrate its role for both coping cognition (i.e., appraisal and self-evaluation) and coping behavior (persistence and actual coping performance). The previous two studies suggest that mental contrasting in light of high competence expectations creates strong goals to cope with chronic and acute stress; in light of low competence expectations, it leads people to abstain from setting coping goals and to save resources for more promising coping endeavours. In other words, mental contrasting reveals which stressors one should overcome or change, and which stressors one should avoid. These considerations suggest that inducing mental contrasting as a metacognitive strategy that can be applied to diverse everyday problems should facilitate making up one's mind and effectively managing precious resources (e.g., time and money), thereby alleviating the accumulation of chronic and acute stress. Inducing Mental Contrasting as a Metacognitive Strategy To test the idea that mental contrasting taught as a metacognitive strategy prevents stress by improved decision making and superior resource management, one group of health care managers was instructed in mental contrasting, while a control group of managers was taught to fantasize positively only (Oettingen et al., 2005b, Study 4). The interventionist then explained to participants in both groups how to apply these strategies to their most cumbersome everyday problems or stressors. Specifically, depending on condition, we first asked participants to do the mental contrasting versus indulging exercise in writing 35. Fantasies and Competence 661 with respect to their current most important problem, in order to practice further the respective procedures of mental elaboration (i.e., mental contrasting vs. indulging), participants were then asked to imagine as many pressing professional and personal everyday stressors and problems as possible that were relatively controllable but made them feel clearly uneasy (e.g., participants named "Being assertive in a staff meeting," "Visiting my mother," "Terminating the job contract of a coworker," "Inviting people for dinner"). Depending on experimental condition, either mental contrasting or indulging procedures were then used for the first six of the named problems. Finally, all participants received a 14-day diary and were asked to do their mental exercise in writing with respect to the stressor that made them feel most uneasy on a given day. They were encouraged also to use the mental exercise with respect to any other problém or concern that would appear during the day, and to apply the exercise whenever they felt there was a good opportunity to do so (e.g., while waiting for the bus). Two weeks after the intervention, we asked participants how they fared in their daily decision making and time management since the intervention. In comparison with participants in the indulging group, those in the mental contrast group reported having experienced greater ease in their decision making and having organized their time in a more efficient way. Moreover, they were more successful both in completing some projects and in relinquishing others. Apparently, mental contrasting can be successfully taught and readily applied in self-instructions to the various professional and private problems and stressors people face in their daily life. Furthermore, mental contrasting can be seen as a self-regulatory strategy that guides people to improve their ease in decision making, their time management, and their readiness to relinquish some projects in favor of completing others. Based on the findings of our past studies that mental contrasting leads to setting strong coping goals in light of high competence expectations but to relinquishing coping goals in light of low competence expectations, we speculate that by applying mental contrasting, participants relinquish those projects and stressors in which they felt they had little competence or resources available, thus avoiding psychological distress stemming from pursuing pointless endeavors. To the contrary, when competence expectations were high, mental contrasting should have led people to pursue vigorously and complete ongoing projects. Teaching how to apply mental contrasting to everyday problems and stressors rather than indulging in their successful solution helped the managers to deal with their daily lives in a way that prevented the cumulative stress of having to deal with unpromising and too many projects. Summary We have observed the benefits of experimentally induced mental contrasting for coping with chronic and acute stressors. The findings also suggest that mental contrasting, taught as a metacognitive strategy in a simple intervention and applied to various daily problems (e.g., organizing a dinner party, being assertive in meetings), prevents longstanding stress by fostering the completion of feasible tasks and by refraining from tackling unfeasible ones. Indulging, on the other hand, causes people to be halfheartedly engaged in too many, often unpromising projects. Our findings are in line with the literature on denial and wishful thinking, in which these ways of thinking are observed to impede effective coping with stress, especially when the stressors do not dissolve by themselves but require attention and effortful action to be overcome (Carver et al., 1989}. Based on these considerations, we speculate that even though the present studies show that the consequences of indulging are maladaptive when the individual has a choice to face or not to face the stressor at hand, indulging may be beneficial for coping with stressors that are characterized as being inescapable, in the sense that they can neither be mastered nor relinquished. For example, elementary school children with low competence expectations of excelling in math should benefit from indulging in future fantasies about their math successes. Mental contrasting, in this case, would only focus them on their low competence, thus, leading them to relinquish efforts to improve in math. Indulging, to the contrary, should pre- 662 VI. SELF-REGULATORY PROCESSES vent them from taking their bleak prospects into consideration, thus fostering at least moderate problem-focused coping and thereby development of unnoticed resources and potentials. In addition, while students are kept moderately engaged through indulging, the teacher can strengthen their efficacy expectations. Once efficacy expectations are strong (Bandura, 1977, 1997; Bandura & Schunk, 1981), mental contrasting procedures can be fruitfully applied. CONCLUSIONS Based on William James's (1890/1950) distinction between beliefs and images, we observed that thinking about the future in terms of competence expectations fosters motivation and objective competence, while thinking about the future in terms of competence fantasies is detrimental to motivation and performance. Competence fantasies, however, can be merged with high competence expectations to form binding competence goals. They only need to be contrasted with reflections on impeding reality. This simple procedure of mental contrasting also benefits goal striving: It guarantees that critical feedback is processed in terms of valuable information instead of self-damaging criticism. Moreover, mental contrasting can be used to create goals geared at coping with chronic and acute stress, and when taught as a metacognitive strategy, to prevent long-term stress by fostering ease of decision making and effective resource management. "The person who is aware of the past knows about the future!" This slogan captures the benefits of mental contrasting, because mental contrasting fosters action according to experiences of the past. The slogan also alludes to the conditions in which mental contrasting is beneficial: whenever one needs to be aware of one's past performance in order to predict the future. The findings may also be interpreted from a sociocultural perspective. For example, it might be argued that in modern, rather than in more traditional societies, past experience needs to inform future action, because myths and norm-oriented rituals are fading in modern societies and thus cannot guide action anymore. Few norm-oriented rituals provide assurance and boundaries for acting (by determining who interacts with whom, when, where, and how; Boesch, 1982). What, then, provides the basis for action in modern societies? We suggest that in modern societies, expectations are taking over the function of norms and rituals (Oettingen, 1997). Specifically, by reflecting experiential histories, expectations provide the necessary assurance to act and show the boundaries of acting. As expectations gain a pivotal role in guiding action, and mental contrasting activates expectations, self-regulatory thought in terms of mental contrasting should be important in modern societies, allowing us to be agents of our own development and change (Bandura, 1989; Brandtstädter 8c" Lerner, 1999). In traditional cultures, to the contrary, where normative rituals rather than expectations guide action, there is less need for mental contrasting. Hence, indulging in the future and dwelling on reality can flourish. Indulging in a desired future has the additional advantage that it helps people to overlook pessimistic expectations about continued hardships of normative constraint, thus providing hope for a better future. Engaging in such hopeful pessimism will prevent disengagement and should yield more positive affect and well-being than mental contrasting. 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Meece (Eds.), Student perceptions in the classroom: Causes and consequences (pp. 185-207). Hillsdale, NJ: Erlbaum. Author Index Aaker, J. L., 492 Aarts, H., 628, 640 Aber, J. L., 420 Aboud, F. E., 204, 284, 438 Abrams, L., 586 Abramson, L. Y., 126 Abt, S., 511 Ach, N., 3 Achilles, C, 425 Ackerman, P. L., 148, 337, 338, 341, 343, 344, 345, 349, 350 Adams, D. R., 475 Adelgais, A., 287 Adler, A., 176, 177 Adler, N., 406 Adler, T. R, 90, 96, 118, 232, 265, 380 Ager, J., 229, 480 Ahadi, S. A., 170, 171, 174, 179 Ahadi, S., 192 Ainley, M. D., 58 Ainsworth, J. W., 425 Ainsworth, M. D. S., 260, 267 Ainsworth-Darneil, J., 402 Ajzen, L, 66, 633, 655 Alafat, K. A., 586 Albert, R. S., 609, 613, 615, 617 Alden, L. E., 141, 143, 144, 146 Aldwin, C. M., 542 Alessandri, S. M., 7, 187, 195, 199 Alexander, K. L., 265 Alfi, O., 309 Alipuria, L. L., 233 Alleman, J., 311 Alien, J., 328 Alien, J. j. B., 532 Allen, J. P., 266 Allessandri, S. M., 532 Aliport, G. W., 160, 176, 625 Alpern, L., 422 Alpert, R., 59, 147, 150 Alt, M. N., 425 Altermatt, E. R., 288, 289 Alvarez, J., 268 Amabile, T. M., 19, 112, 586, 612, 613, 614, 616, 618 Amato, P. R., 265, 420 Ambady, N., 382, 387, 446 Ames, C. A., 53, 56, 57, 59, 62, 64, 65, 66, 115,206,218, 225, 226, 299, 300, 318, 319, 320, 322, 364, 385, 461, 516 Ames, R., 115 Amrein, A. L., 366, 369 Anastasi, A., 16 Ancess, J., 369 Anderman, E. M., 63, 110, 224, 225, 226, 227, 300, 364 Anderman, L. H., 63, 300, 310 Andersen, S. M., 562 Anderson, J. R., 521 Anderson, N., 394 Anderson, R. C, 625 Andreasen, N., 619 Anesbury, T., 80 Aneshensel, C. S., 426 Angold, A., 420 Angyal, A., 583 Anthony, R. G., 490 Anton, W. D., 143, 146 Apostoleris, N. H., 273, 284 Appadurai, A., 490 Archer, J., 56, 57, 65, 320, 364, 461 Arend, R-, 267 Argyle, M., 280 Arkin, R. M., 555, 558 Arkowitz, H., 149 Armor, D. A., 651 Armstrong, N., 58, 324 Arnett, J. J., 223 Arnkoff, D. B., 152 Arnold, D. H., 438 Aronson, J., 123, 129, 130, 136, 234, 381, 396, 397, 437, 439, 440, 441, 442, 443, 444, 445, 446, 447, 448, 449, 450, 451, 452, 480 Arroyo, C. G., 439 Arunkumar, R., 63 Asendorpf, J. B., 177 Ashcraft, M. H., 143, 149, 153 Asher, S. R., 224, 279, 281, 282, 283, 286, 288, 291 Ashton, P. T., 99, 306 Aspinwall, L. G-, 249, 538 Assor, A., 225, 304, 309, 591 Astone, N. M., 417 Astor, E. C., 204 Atencio, D. J., 263 Atienza, F. L., 325 Atkinson, G., 602 Atkinson, J. W., 3, 5, 6, 19, 31, 32, 33, 38, 39, 43, 45, 46, 59, 76, 90, 340, 383, 472, 533, 534, 568, 582, 630, 631, 632, 633, 648, 656 Auman, C., 443 Austin, C. C., 226 Austin, J. T., 281, 528 Ausubel, D. P., 176 666 Author Index 667 Averill, J. R., 83 Avolio, B. j., 250 Axinn, W., 419 Ayduk, O., 179 Ayers-Lopez, S., 289 Azuma, H., 461, 462, 463, 473, 475, 477, 478 Baard, P. R, 593 Babkes, M., 318 Bachman, M., 268 Baer, D. M., 610, 615 Bagozzi, R. P., 635 Bagwell, C. L., 284, 291 Baird, W., 112 Bakan, D., 9 Baker, D. R, 261 Baker-Sennett, J., 460 Balague, G., 320 Balaguer, L, 325 Baldwin, A. L., 272, 422 Baldwin, C., 272, 422 Balsam, P., 610 Baltes, M. M., 350 Baltes, P. B., 241, 242, 252, 350, 476, 534, 647 Banaji, M. R., 399 Bandura, A., 8, 19, 85, 86, 87, 88, 89, 91, 92, 93, 94, 95, 96, 97,98,99, 100, 110, 123, 132, 133, 224, 225, 230, 266, 280, 281, 288, 289, 301, 377, 378, 472, 491, 492, 495, 509, 510, 513, 514, 515, 517, 520, 533, 538, 576, 589, 602, 625, 630, 638, 647, 648, 649, 650, 652, 658, 662 Banfield, J. T., 123 Bankston, C., 405 Barbaranelli, C., 266 Barber, B. L., 116, 290 Bar-Eli, M., 149 Bargh, J. A., 398, 399, 446, 625, 626, 627, 628, 629, 630, 631, 632, 640, 643 Barker, G., 79 Barker, R. G., 280 Barndollar, K., 627 Barnes, J., 230 Barnett, N. R, 509 Baroas, R., 422 Baron, R. S., 543 Barone, P., 187 Barrett, K. C., 172, 190 Barrett, M., 362 Barrick, M. R., 341, 346 Barron, E, 612, 615, 618 Barron, K. E., 64, 298, 364, 385, 386, 414, 516 Barry, C., 284 Barth, E, 490 Bartini, M., 289 Bartmess, E. N., 123 Bartram, D., 336 Basow, S. A., 475 Bassler, O. C, 273 Bastian, J. R., 43 Bastiani, A., 420 Bates, J. E., 168, 169, 170, 177, 178, 179, 270, 272, 292, 420 Battle, A., 288, 290 Baughman, W., 620 Baumeister, R. E, 10, 33, 190, 394, 436, 439, 440, 469, 529, 553, 554, 590, 637 Baumer, S., 208, 209, 212, 218 Bäumier, G., 37, 38 Baydar, N., 417 Bayer, U. C., 637, 638, 640, 641, 657 Baysden, M., 403 Beam, M., 426 Beauregard, R. S., 346 Beck, A. T.,-188, 191 Becker, B. J., 149 Becker, G. S., 417, 423 Becker, J., 48 Becker, S. L., 248, 321 Bedell, J., 143 Beer, J. S., 133, 134 Beery, R., 59 Behrens, J. T., 58 Beier, M. B., 345 Beier, M. E., 345 Beimiller, A., 520 Belgrave, E, 402 Beli, L. A., 231 Bell, R. Q., 272 Bellah, R. N., 469, 470, 471 Bellavia, G. M., 562 Bellmore, A., 408 Belmont, M. J., 304, 425 Belsky, J., 272 Bembenutty, H., 63 Benardot, D., 330 Benbow, C. P., 118 Benenson, J., 284 Benet-Martinez, V., 494, 498 Benjet, C, 273 Bennett, D., 199 Bennett, M. D. J., 426, 463, 465 Bennett, N., 311 Benware, C. A., 112, 362 Ben-Ze'ev, A., 81 Ben-Zeev, T., 15, 447 Berger, S. M., 571 Bergin, D. A., 301, 311, 402 Berglas, S., 439, 549, 555, 558 Bergson, H., 598 Berkun, M., 580 Berlin, L. J., 425, 427 Berliner, D. C, 366, 369 Berlyne, D., 599, 601 Bernal, M. E., 489 Berndt, T. J., 96, 224, 284, 288, 289 Bernieri, E, 586 Bernstein, M., 461 Bernzweig, J., 179 Berry, J. W., 463 Berry, T., 266 Bertrand, R. M., 8 Berzonsky, M. D., 229 Betley, G-, 586 Betson, D. M., 416 Betz, N. E., 152, 377 Beveridge, A. A., 421, 425 Bickel, R., 369 Biddle, S. J. H., 58, 64, 132, 156, 157, 319, 320, 321, 323, 324, 325, 326, 330, 533 Biernat, M., 35 Bijisma, J. W., 651 Billings, R. L., 425 Binet, A., 27, 123, 124, 337, 467 Bippus, A. M., 144 Birch, D., 39, 631 Birch, H. G., 169 Birdthistle, L, 426 Birney, R. C., 39, 40, 42 Bischof-Kohler, D., 188 Bishop, S. J., 422 Bissonnette, V., 460 Blackburn, T. C., 473 Bíackweíí, J., 203 Bíackwell, L. S., 123, 124, 126, 136 Blair, C, 175 Blair, L, 399 Blair, V., 514 Blanton, H., 387, 443, 571, 572, 574, 575 Blascovich, j., 444, 446 Blau, D. M., 419 Blehar, M. C., 260 Bles, R, 250 Bless, H., 637 Bunco, P. M., 492 Block, J. H., 172, 175, 176, 177, 180, 341 Blondín, J. R, 152, 156 Bios, P., 223 Biossfeld, H. P., 243 Biumenŕeld, P. C., 56, 57, 305, 307, 311, 380 Bobo, L., 396 Bobocel, R. D., 639 Bochnei; S., 490 Bodenhausen, G. V, 398, 641 Boerner, K., 248 668 Author Index Boesch, E. E., 662 Boggiano, A. K., 204, 301, 362 Boggs, J. W., 474 Bohling, A., 532 Boisvert, j., 58, 385 Boivin, M., 230, 289 Böiger, N., 155 Bolt, E., 304 Bolus, R., 88 Bonanno, G. A., 537 Bond, M. H., 493 Bond, N. A., Jr., 339 Bong, M., 35, 89, 91 Boot, B., 651 Borgida, E., 376 Borke, H., 208 Bornstein, M. H., 260, 414, 422, 423 Borquez, j., 418 Bouchard, T. J., jr., 20 Bouffard, T., 58, 385, 386 Bouffard-Bouchard, X, 92 Boulerice, B., 420 Bourne, L., 459 Bowen, K. R., 345, 349 Bower, J. E., 652 Bowker, A., 281 Bowlby, J., 260, 267 Bowman, R, 403 Boyatzis, R. E., 45 Boyle, M. H., 421 Bozionelos, N., 141, 143 Brackfield, S. C, 612 Bradac, J., 499 Bradley, D., 440 Bradley, P., 615 Bradley, R. H., 414, 423, 424 Bragonier, R, 210 Bramlett, R. K., 180 Brand, S., 394 Brandstädter, J., 244, 605, 662 Brandt, Y., 146 Brandtstätter, V., 635, 640, 641 Branscombe, N., 395 Bratslavsky, E., 529 Breckler, S. J., 45 Brcgman, E. O., 337 Brehm, J. W., 473, 532, 533, 538, 542 Brekke, N. C, 629 Brennan, M., 248 Brett, J. E, 63, 346 Brewer, M., 626 Brickman, R, 213 Bridges, G. S., 399 Bridges, K. M. B., 186 Bridges, L., 263 Bridges, M. W., 533 Brigham, N. L., 81 Briley, D. A., 491 Brim, O. G., Jr. , 8, 244 Brissie, J. S., 273 Brirner, S. L., 385 Britt, D. M., 660 Broadbent, D., 625 Brockner, J., 478, 492, 639 Brody, G. H., 292, 394 Broman, C., 394 Bronfenbrenner, U., 260, 269, 280, 291, 292, 408, 422 Bronson, M. B., 177 Bronsrein, R, 263, 362 Brookins, C, 402 Brooks, F., 289 Brooks-Gunn, J., 187, 414, 415, 417, 418, 419, 420, 421, 422, 423, 424, 425, 426, 427, 428 Brophy, J. E., 64, 311, 438 Brown, A. L., 123 Brown, B. B., 94, 234, 279, 283, 290, 291, 292, 476 Brown, F., 404, 409 Brown, G. W., 532 Brown, I., Jr., 520 Brown, J. D., 213, 215, 473, 476, 553, 652, 658 Brown, L. M., 175 Brown, L. X, 490 Brown, R. R, 381, 448 Brown, S. D., 92, 93, 472, 648 Brown, S. P., 346 Brownell, C. A., 209, 263 Bruch, M. A., 144, 149, 153 Brumitt, G. A., 425 Brunei, P., 324 Bruner, J. S., 458, 460, 461, 480, 625 Bruning, R. H., 225, 302, 648 Brunsman, B., 543 Brunstein, J. C, 32, 33, 34, 35, 44, 45, 48 Brustad, R. J., 318 Buchanan, C. M., 223 Bühler, C, 599 Buhs, E. S., 282, 286, 289 Buka, S. L., 426 Bukowski, W. M., 223, 282, 289 Bullock, M., 208 Bulman, R. J., 213 Burdick, H., 39 Burfoot, A., 509, 515 Burgess, K. B., 283 Buriel, R., 259 Búrke, P. J., 231 Burmedi, D., 248 Burrows, L., 398, 446 Burton, D., 318 Bush, G., 178 Buss, A., 192 Bussey, K., 375, 376, 377, 378, 387 Buswell, B. N., 376 Butler, A. C, 330 Butler, D. L., 517 Butler, R., 56, 57, 58, 59, 127, 128, 205, 206, 209, 210, 211, 212, 213, 214,217, 218, 289, 580, 648 Butt, J-, 156, 157 Butterfieíd, E. C, 625 Button, S. B., 63 Buunk, B. R, 571 Bybee, D., 234, 402 Byrne, B. M., 230 Byrnes, J. B., 223 Cacioppo, J. X, 186 Cahen, L., 425 Cai, Y., 304 Cain, C, 458 Cain, K., 133, 215 Cairns, R., 291 Calder, B. J., 585 Caldwell, B. M., 424 Caldwell, K., 283, 284, 289, 290 Calkins, S. D., 174 Callahan, C. M., 365 Calsyn, R., 230 Calvo, M. G., J 53, 159 Cameron, J., 355, 359, 585 Campbell, D., 619 Campbell, J., 190 Campbell, S. B., 209, 263 Campbell, S. E., 151, 154 Campbell, W. K., 552 Campillo, M., 515 Cantor, N., 463, 550, 561, 625, 648 Cantril, H., 272 Capozzoli, M., 173 Caprara, G. V., 152, 266 Caputi, R, 149 Carli, M., 111 Carlston, D. E., 81 Carnoy, M., 367 Carpenter, R, 323, 325 Carpenter, V., 43 Carr, C, 445 Carr, J. Z., 64 Carr, W., 425 Carroll, j. B., 15, 338 Carter, S. M., 298, 364, 385 Carugari, F. E, 459 Caruso, D., 23 Caruso, J. C, 543 Carver, C. S-, 7, 143, 152, 154, 155, 249, 356, 515, 527, 528, 529, 530, 531, 532, 533, 535, 536, 537, 538, 539, 540, 541, 639, 654, 658, 659, 660, 661 Cascio, W. E, 586, 587 Author index 669 Case, R-, 207, 210 Caspi, A., 171, 174, 418, 421 Cassady, J. C, 142, 153 Casten, R., 395 Castillo, M. D., 153 Castro, E G., 489 Catsambis, S., 421, 425 Catteil, J. M., 467 Catteil, R. B., 20, 338 Ceballo, R., 418 Ceci, S. J., 22 Cerf, C, 615 Cervone, D., 152, 658 Chabay, L. A., 263 Chand, L, 616, 620 Chang, C. M., 477 Chang, W., 8, 493 Chapeskie, T. R., 210 Chapman, E., 648 Chapman, P. D., 467 Charles, C. Z., 449 Charness, N., 535 Chartrand, X L., 399, 627, 629, 630, 631 Chase, W., 611 Chase-Lansdale, P. L., 421 Chasteen, A. L., 635 Chatzisarantis, N., 319 Chatzisaray, N., 132 Chavajay, R, 459, 462 Chavous, X, 400, 402, 403 Chen, C, 234, 271, 273, 426, 492 Chen, J., 490, 491, 493 Chen, L., 403, 448 Chen, M., 398, 446 Chen, S., 562, 627 Chen, X., 271, 425 Cheney, L., 357 Cheng, C, 490 Cherniss, C, 8 Cherry, F., 384 Cheryan, S., 398 Chess, S., 169, 170, 192 Chester, N. L., 383 Cheung, J. S., 490 Cheung, P., 56 Chi, L., 57, 320, 321 Chi, M. T. H., 15, 207 Chin, J. L., 8 Chirkov, V. L, 492, 593 Chiu, C, 64, 123, 124, 137, 192, 463, 478, 489, 490, 491, 493, 494, 496, 497, 498, 499, 659 Choi, L, 479, 496, 497 Chown, S. M., 611 Choy, S. R, 425 Christal, R. E., 341 Christensen, C. M., 650 Christensen, K. A., 649 Christensen, R R., 339 Church, A. X, 475, 476, 478 Church, M. A., 6, 7, 60, 62, 63, 64, 319, 326, 327, 329, 385, 386, 445, 557, 562, 568, 586, 647 Cialdini, R. B., 81, 386, 387, 574 Cicchetti, D., 422 Citro, C. E, 415, 416 Claire, T, 443, 466 Clark, D. M., 155, 157 Clark, L. A., 168, 173, 273, 604 Clark, R. A., 3, 19, 31, 35, 59, 89, 383, 394, 472, 568, 582 Clark, V., 394 Cleary, X, 518, 522 Clements, R, 290 Cleveland, M., 394 Clifford, M. M., 309, 311 Clinkenbeard, P. R., 22 Cloninger, C. R., 529 Clore, G. L., 82, 530 Coarsworth, J. D., 8 Cobb, M. V., 337 Cobb, R, 115 Cockburn, A., 311 Coffin, R. J., 152 Cohen, A. B., 470 Cohen, G. L., 399, 450 Cohen, L. M., 660 Cohen, M. L., 660 Cohen, R., 204 Cokley, K., 403 Colcombe, S. J., 443 Cole, M., 479 Cole, P. M., 190 Cole, R. E., 272 Coieman, H., 405 Coieman, J. S., 298, 439 Coley, R. L., 272 Coliingwood, R. G., 605 Collins, A., 82, 530 Collins, F. L., 660 Collins, J. L., 93 Collins, R E, 169, 529 Collins, R., 571, 572 Collins, W. A., 260, 269, 422 Collins, W. C, 132 Colquitt, J. S., 346 Colvin, C, 225, 302, 648 Comfort, C, 96 Commager, H. S., 470, 472 Compas, B. E., 659 Compton, S. N., 420 Condry, J., 473 Conger, K. J., 418, 422 Conger, R. D., 292, 418, 422 Conley, D., 415 Connell, J. P., 91, 109, 112, 176, 224, 225, 227, 420, 473, 589, 647 Connor, K., 587, 593 Connors, L. J., 224 Connor-Smith, j. K., 659 Conroy, D. E., 64, 328, 329 Conte, J. M., 336 Conte, J., 198 Conti, R., 601 Conway, B. E., 461 Conway, M., 552 Cook, R, 402, 440 Cooke, D., 403 Cooks, H., 402 Cooley, D. H-, 458 Coon, H. M-, 495 Cooper, C. R-, 289 Cooper, H. M., 91 Cooper, J., 439 Cooper, R, 422 Cooper, R., 402 Cooperman, J. L., 424 Corapci, E, 424 Cordova, D. L, 473, 586 Cornelius, S. W., 534 Cornell, S., 393 Corno, L., 94, 516 Cose, E., 394 Costello, C. B., 375, 377 Costello, E. J., 420 Coulson, S. L., 135 Courtney, D. R, 95 Covington, M. V., 35, 39, 56, 59, 64, 112, 113, 145, 146, 152, 156, 306, 509 Cowan, G., 396 Cowan, R A., 207 Cowíey, M., 510, 511 Cox, C. M., 609 Cox, R D., 93, 302, 513 Coy, K. C, 179, 192 Coyne, J. C, 422 Craft, L. L., 149 Crain, R. M., 380 Crandall, C, 444 Crandall, V. C, 105 Crane, J., 415, 419 Craven, R. G., 210, 215, 230 Crick, N., 281, 286 Crocker, J., 123, 272, 382, 383, 395, 397, 407, 450, 470, 480, 550, 563 Crockett, L., 289 Croizet, J. C, 439, 443, 445, 449, 466 Cron, W. L., 346 Cronbach, L. J., 337 Cross, B. D., 438 Cross, S. E., 229, 268, 492 Crozier, W. R., 141, 143, 144, 146 Crutchfield, R. S., 614 Csikszentmihalyi, L, 605 670 Author Index Csikszentmihalyi, M., Ill, 193, 586, 600, 603, 604, 605, 606, 612, 614, 619 Cummings, L. L., 63 Cunningham, J., 204 Cunningham, P. E., 489 Curhan, K. B., 465 Curnow, C, 241 Currie, J. M., 416 Cury, F., 64, 138, 324, 325, 326, 327, 328, 329 Dabul, A. J., 81, 386 d'Aiily, H., 263 Da Fonseca, A., 327 Da Fonseca, D., 64, 138, 327, 328 Dakoff, G., 571 Daleiden, E. L., 153, 175 Daly, J. A., 144 Damon, W., 203 D'Andrade, R., 41, 42, 265, 408 Daniels, D., 209 Daniels, J., 604 Danner, F. W., 587 Darcis, C, 443 Dardis, G. J., 213 Darley, J. M, 439, 444, 566, 567, 568 Darling, N., 262, 263, 269 Darling-Hammond, L., 369, 425 Darwin, C., 187 Das, J. P., 462 Dashiell, J. F., 580 Datnow, A., 402 Dauber, S. L., 118 Dauenheimer, D., 381 Dave, P. N., 43, 44 Davey, M. E., 586 Davidson, D. H., 457 Davidson, L. L., 424 Davidson, R. J., 169, 529, 530 Davies, D. R., 250 Davies, P. G., 381, 440, 447, 451 Davis, A., 437, 448 Davis, J., 573 Davis, M., 539 Davis-Kean, P., 222 Dearing, E., 419 Deary, I. J., 145, 160 Deater-Deckard, K., 425 Deaux, K., 194, 376, 384, 448 Debacker, T. IC, 380 Debus, R., 215, 230, 362 deCharms, R., 34, 35, 43, 44, 46, 114, 260, 305, 362, 473, 478, 583, 584, 593, 594, 599 Deci, E. L., 6, 10, 91, 108, 109, 112, 113, 114, 115, 225, 260, 262, 263, 301, 303, 304, 305, 327, 355, 359, 360, 361, 362, 363, 473, 478, 491, 492, 516, 563, 582, 583, 584, 585, 586, 587, 588, 589, 590, 591, 592, 593, 594, 599, 602, 603, 605 DeCorte, E., 515 DeCourcey, W., 263 De Groot, E. V., 93 Dejong, W., 586 Dekker, j., 651 Delgado-Gairan, C., 475 Delle Fave, A. D., 605 DelVecchio, W. F., 349 Dembo, M. H., 476, 492 Dembo, T., 59, 90, 567 Depner, C, 7, 384 Deprěs, G., 445 Depue, R. A., 169, 529 Derryberry, D., 168, 169, 171, 175, 178 Desai, K. A., 474 Désert, M., 443 DesForges, C, 311 Deshon, R. R, 64 de Tocqueville, A., 469 Devaney, E. L., 416 DeVet, K., 192 Devine, P. G., 396, 399, 438 De Vos, G. A., 474 Dew, K. M. H., 145 Dewey, J., 360 Dewitte, S-, 515 DeZolt, D., 379 Dholakia, U. M., 635 Diamond, A., 178 Diaz, R. M., 263 Díaz de Chumaceiro, C. L., 618 Diener, C. L, 53, 206 Diener, E., 80, 476, 493, 572 Dijksterhuis, A., 640 DiMaggio, D., 491 Dittman-Kohli, E, 242 Dodds, R. A., 499 Dodge, K. A., 270, 272, 281, 286, 290, 292 Dodson, N., 403 Dogra, N., 490 Dollard, J., 529 Dollinger, S. J., 586 Dong, Q., 271, 426 Donnell, C., 153 Dooley, D., 249 Dorinan, C., 619 Dornbusch, S. M., 94, 223, 234, 263, 271, 476 Douvan, E., 7, 384 Dovidio, j. E, 400 Downey, D., 402 Downey, G-, 422, 448, 561, 562 Downs, D. L., 550 Doyle, W., 311 Draper, D. C, 282, 283 Dretzke, B. J., 94 Drew, K. D., 180 Driscoll, D., 398 Driver, R. E., 263, 567 Dubiner, K., 173 Dubow, E. E, 289 Duckett, E., 266 Duda, J. L., 56, 57, 58, 63, 64, 318,319,320,321, 322,323, 324, 325, 326, 328, 329, 330, 331 Dudek, S. Z., 612 Duffy, J-, 381 Dumas, F., 571 Dumas, T., 394 Dumas-Hines, E, 133 Duncan, G. J., 414, 415, 417, 419, 420, 421, 422 Dunifon, R., 417, 423, 428 Dunlap, K. G., 262 Dunn, J. D. H., 147 Dunning, D., 213 Dunton, B. C, 439 Durkheim, E., 242 Durkin, M. S., 424 Durning, K., 520 Dutrévis, M., 439, 443, 449 Dweck, C. S., 4, 6, 7, 19, 53, 54, 55, 56, 58, 62, 64, 65, 66, 19, 96, 110, 115, 122, 123, 124, 126, 127, 129, 130, 131, 133, 134, 135, 137, 188, 190, 191, 192, 193, 194, 195, 196, 202,204, 205,206,210,211, 215, 217, 218, 226, 259, 260, 264, 265, 281, 298, 305, 318, 319, 320, 322, 324, 326, 327, 329, 330, 331, 363, 364, 368, 379, 385, 398, 414, 436, 437, 439, 452, 461, 466, 477, 496, 497, 516, 523, 528, 543, 550, 556, 602, 638, 657, 658, 659 Dzokoto, V., 493 Eagly, A. H., 376 Earl, R. W., 43 Earls, F. J., 424, 426 Eaton, M. J., 8, 476, 492 Eaton, M. M., 262, 269, 272, 273 Ebbeck, V., 321 Ebersole, P., 619 Eccles,J. S., 90, 94,96, 105, 108, 109, 110, 112, 113, 116, 117, 118, 119, 222,224, 225, 226, 227, 228, 229, 231, 232, 259, 260, 265, 266, 269, 273, 290, 302, 303, 318, 376, 378, 380, 381,398,407,439 Eccles-Parsons, J., 376 Author Index 671 Eddings, S. K., 552 Edeiin, K. C, 222, 310 Edelstein, W., 289 Edin, K., 416 Eghrari, H., 591 Eicher, S. A., 290 Einstein, G. O., 634 Eisenberg, M., 425 Eisenberg, N., 179, 228, 231 Eisenberg, R., 210 Eisenberger, N., 394 Eisenberger, R., 44, 355, 585 Eisenman, R., 619 Elder, G. H., Jr., 418, 422 El-Hag, N., 153 Eliasz, A., 168 Elliot, A. ]., 3, 5, 6, 7, 8, 10, 35, 48, 58, 59, 60, 61, 62, 63, 64, 65, 67, 110, 115, 138, 147, 148, 151, 156, 170, 175, 177, 217, 226, 259,260, 267, 298, 307, 310, 311, 318, 319, 326, 327, 328, 329, 340, 346, 355, 363, 364, 365, 385, 386, 396, 399, 400, 414, 439, 445, 492, 516, 523, 534, 568, 582, 585, 586, 588, 602, 603, 610, 612, 614, 615, 616, 619, 638, 647, 648, 656, 658 Elliott, D. S., 289, 426 Elliott, E. S., 4, 6, 53, 54, 55, 56, 62, 64, 110, 115, 205, 206, 528, 556 Elliott, J., 24 Elliott, S. N., 180 Ellis, D., 521 Ellis, L. A., 210 Ellis, L. K., 178 Eliwood, M. R., 416 Elmen, J. D., 264 Emerson, R. W., 469 Emmons, R. A., 528 Endler, N. S., 141, 142, 144, 159 Endress, H., 638 Entwisle, D. R., 32, 265 Epstein, j. L., 57, 224, 261, 288 Epstein, R., 610 Erdelyi, M. H., 625 Erdley, C. A., 133, 134, 281, 284 Erez, A., 173 Ericsson, K. A., 15, 19, 241, 251, 252, 339, 509, 511, 535 Erikson, E. H., 223, 228, 236 Escalona, S. K., 3, 567 Eshel, Y., 203 Esquith, R., 123 Essex, M. J., 420 Evans, D., 172 Evans, G. W., 424 Everett, J. J., 509 Ewing, M. E., 509 Eysenck, H. J., 618 Eysenck, M. W., 153 Eysenck, N., 168, 169 Fabes, R. A., 179, 228 Fahrbach, K. R., 514 Fairchild, H., 393 Fairfield, M., 558, 559, 560 Fallby, J., 152 Fallon, M., 149 Famose, J. P., 64, 324 Fan, J., 178 Fan, R. M., 497 Farkas, G., 402 Farr, J. L., 58, 346 Farr, M. J., 15 Farr, R. M., 463 Farruggia, S. P., 246 Fazio, R. H., 439, 626 Feagin, J., 394, 406 Feather, N. T., 43, 82, 109, 533 Feick, D. L., 559, 560, 561 Fein, S., 553 Feiring, C, 198 Feldlaufer, H., 94, 303, 312 Feldman, N., 204 Feldman, S., 625, 648 Feldman, S. L, 561, 562 Feldman, S. S., 289 Feiner, R., 394 Eelson, R. B., 92 Feltz, D. L., 318, 514 Fendrich, M., 262 Fenichel, O., 581 Fennema, E., 376, 380, 381 Fenton, R., 394 Ferguson, J., 423 Ferguson, R. E, 439 Ferguson, T. J., 193 Ferrando, P. J., 145 Ferrari, J. R., 156 Ferrari, M., 22 Fesringer, L., 3, 59, 90, 566, 567, 571 Feuerstein, R., 24 Feyerherm, W., 399 Fiedler, K., 637 Field, N. P, 537 Fields, L., 402 Filby, N., 425 Fincham, F. D., 262, 264, 266 Findley, M. J., 91 Finken, L. L., 380 Finkenauer, C., 529 Finlay-Jones, R., 532 Finn, C. E. J., 356, 359 Finn, J., 425 Finney, S. J., 64 Fiori-Cowíey, A., 422 Fireman, G., 602 Fischer, K. "W"., 207 Fischer, M. J., 449 Fish, M., 419 Fishbein, M., 66, 633, 655 Fisher, C. D., 394, 587, 603 Fisher, P., 170 Fiske, A. P, 469 Fiske, S. X, 399, 461 Fitzsimons, G. M., 628, 629 Fivush, R., 379 Flanagan, A., 367 Flannagan, D., 266 Flavell, j. H., 207, 208 Fleeson, W., 247 Fleming, j. S., 37, 225, 264, 423 Fletcher, A. C, 425 Flickinger, S., 395 Flink, C., 362 Flombaum, J. I., 178 Flynn, H. A., 330 Flynn, j. R., 20 Eoersterling, E, 305 Folkman, S., 137, 659, 660 Ford, J. K., 346 . Ford, M. E., 115, 116, 280, 281, 287, 289, 490 Fordham, S., 401, 402, 440 Forsterling, E, 78 Fortier, M. S., 304 Foster, S. L., 489 Fowler, M. G., 417 Fowles, D. C., 529 Fox, K. R., 58, 319, 324 Fox, N. A., 174 Fox, N. E., 266 Fraieigh, M., 271 Frank, J. D., 3 Franz, C. E., 45 Franz, S. L, 341 Fräser, M. W., 426 Frederick, C. M., 592 Fredrícks, J. A., 376, 380 Freeland, D. C, 619 Freitas, A. L., 562, 648 French, E. G., 35, 46 Frensch, R, 403 Fresco, D. M., 153 Freund, A. M., 242 Frey, K. S., 204, 212, 213, 214, 216, 218, 288, 648 Fridhandler, B., 550 Fried, C., 123, 452 Friedman, J., 490 Friedman, R., 7, 534 Friedman, W. j., 601 Frijda, N. H., 82, 530, 531, 532 Fritch, A., 155 Frodi, A., 263, 267 Frome, P. M., 259, 265, 273, 439 672 Author Index Frost, L. A., 380 Fry, M., 323 Fryans, L. J., 474 Fryberg, S., 475, 480 Fu, H., 491, 496 Fujita, F., 572 Fukada, H., 385 Fukada, S-, 385 Fuligni, A. J., 4, 8, 267, 268, 290, 298, 404 Fuligni, A. S., 425, 427 Fuller, B., 100 Fulmore, C, 395 Furman, W., 283 Furnham, A., 490 Furrer, C, 267 Furstenberg, F. F., Jr., 417, 426 Futterman, R., 376 Gable, S. L., 63, 445, 586, 592 Gabriel, S., 497 Gaddis, L. R., 180 Gaertner, L., 213, 493 Gaier, E. L., 477 Galanter, E., 528 Galindo, C, 366 Gallagher, E M., 553 Gallimore, R., 474, 475 Gal-Oz, E., 537 Galper, A., 234 Galton, F., 466, 467, 609 Gant, L., 229, 480 Garbarino, J., 426 Garcia, J., 444 Garcia, L., 444 Garcia, S., 460 Garcia, T., 58, 517 García-Coll, C, 272, 393, 419 Gardner, D. S., 464 Gardner, H., 18, 363, 463 Gardner, W. L., 186, 492, 497 Gartstein, M. A., 170 Gatlin, D., 440 Gaudreau, R, 152, 156 Gaudron, J. P., 146 Gaudry, E., 145 Gauzins, M., 445 Gayior, K., 366 Ge, A., 292 Ge, X., 422 Geis, S., 425 Gelman, R., 207, 208 Gendolla, G. H. E., 74 Genestoux, N., 571 Gephart, M. A., 420 Geppert, U., 7, 9 Gerardi-Caulton, G., 178 Gergen, K. J., 460, 464 Gerhardstein, R., 381, 447 Gernigon, C., 385 Gerrard, M., 394 Gerton, J., 405 Gervey, B. M., 497 Gest, S. D., 174 Getzels, J. W., 605 Ghisletta, R, 242 Gibbons, F. X., 394, 571 Gibson, E., Jr., 96, 224, 283 Gick, M. L., 22 Giesier, R. B., 554 Gilligan, C., 47, 231 Ginsburg, G. S., 263, 362 Girgus, J. S., 191 Givvin, K., 300 Gjerde, R F., 495 Gjesme, T., 32 Gladwell, M., 468 Glaser, R., 15, 619 Glass, C. R., 148 Glass, G-, 425 Glassman, M., 424 Gleason, P. J., 153 Glenn, S. D., 318 Glick, J. E., 426 Glisky, M. L., 602 Godin, G., 633 Goethals, G., 566, 567, 568 Goetz, E. M., 610 Goetz, T. S., 96, 281, 379 Goff, M., 341, 344 Goff, S. B., 4, 376 Gogia, P. R, 650, 651 Golan, S., 362 Goldberg, L. R., 341, 423 Goldfarb, R, 612 Goldman, M., 192 Goldsmith, D., 460 Goldsmith, H. H., 174, 192, 420 Goleman, D., 23, 459, 460 Gollwitzer, R M., 130, 624, 627, 628, 630, 631, 633, 634, 635, 636, 637, 638, 639, 640, 641, 655, 657, 658 Golombok, S-, 379 Gonzales, P. M., 443 Good, C, 123, 129, 130, 136, 439, 444, 447, 449, 452 Good, X, 438 Goodenow, C., 290 Goodnow, J. J., 287, 461 Gordeeva, X, 380 Gordis, E. B., 426 Gordon, M., 404 Gordon, R. A., 421 Gore, P. A., Jr., 648 Gorman-Smith, D., 426 Goto, S. G., 497 Gottfried, A. E., 112, 225, 264, 423 Gottfried, A. W., 171, 264, 423 Gottman, J. M., 284, 291, 543 Gottschaldt, K., 640 Goudas, M., 58 Gough, H. G., 615 Gould, D., 318 Gould, S. J., 473 Gove, E, 267 Graber, J. A., 420 Grady, K. E., 376 Graham, S., 79, 85, 191, 194, 233, 281, 284, 289, 290, 306, 362, 392, 396, 398, 399, 407, 408, 440, 466, 521 Gralinski, J. H., 382 Gramzow, R., 190 Granshof, M., 380 Grant, H., 65, 67, 122, 131, 137, 138, 497, 657 Grässmann, R., 32 Gray, J. A-, 36, 38, 169, 174, 529 Gray-Little, B., 407 Greenberg, J., 347, 491, 527 Greenberger, E., 426 Greene, A. E, 489 Greene, B. A., 58, 92 Greene, D., 473, 584, 586 Greenfield, P. M., 27, 233, 459 Greengiass, E., 152 Greenier, K. D., 330 Greenleaf, C. A., 326 Greeno, J. G., 460 Greenspan, S., 422 Greenwald, A. G., 45, 399, 552, 602 Greenwald, R., 425 Gresham, F. M., 180 Greulich, F. K., 214, 288 Griffin, N. L., 380 Grigorenko, E. L., 18, 19, 21, 22, 23, 24, 26, 463 Grissmer, D., 367 Grolnick, W. S., 135, 176, 259, 261, 262, 263, 264, 272, 273, 301, 304, 361, 362, 590, 592 Groos, K., 599 Grosovsky, E. H., 204 Gross, P., 439 Gruber, H. E., 610, 616, 617 Gruenewald, X L., 652 Grusec, J. E., 287 Guay, E, 230, 289, 304 Guerin, D. W., 171 Guilford, J. R, 339, 340 Guillet, E., 325 Gulíy, S. M., 346 Gunderson, J., 155 Gunn, X P., 93 Guo, G-, 426 Gupta, B. S., 45 Gurland, S. X, 263, 362 Author Index 673 Guskey, T. R., 99 Guskin, K., 191, 263 Gustafson, J., 94 Gustafson, S. B., 609 Guthke, J., 24 Gyamfi, R, 428 Haber, R. N., 59, 147 Hack, M., 420 Hackett, G., 93, 152, 377, 648 Hafdahl, A., 407 Hagtvet, K. A., 152 Haight, W. L., 8 Haiisch, F., 7, 9, 43, 44, 45 Hall, D. E., 470 Hall, D. X, 349 Hall, G. S-, 223 Hall, H. K., 64, 319, 320, 322, 323, 324, 328, 329, 330 Hall, R., 146 Hau, W., 612 Halle, X G., 265 Halperin, M., 188 Halpern-Felsher, B., 421 Halvari, H., 63, 327 Hamburg, B. A., 289 Hamilton, C. E., 425 Hamilton, D. L., 625, 627 Hamilton, L. S., 367, 368, 369 Hamilton, S. E, 243 Hampton, J. A., 499 Han, S. R, 494 Hancock, D. R., 147 Hancock, G. R., 476 Haney, W., 357, 367 Hanin, Y., 150 Hansen, N. D., 489 Hanson, A. R., 93, 95, 302, 513 Hanson, X L., 420 Hansson, R. O., 537 Hanston, S., 150 Hanton, S., 146, 156 Hanushek, E. A., 425 Harackiewicz, J. M., 45, 58, 59, 60, 62, 63, 64, 115, 155, 157, 175, 298, 301, 307, 318, 326, 340, 346, 359, 364, 365, 366, 385, 386, 414, 516, 585, 586, 591, 602, 603 Harber, K., 451 Hardin, D. R, 213 Hardre, R L., 304, 362 Hardy, L., 64, 145, 147, 322, 325 Hareli, S., 80, 81, 82 Harkins, S. G., 347 Harkness, S., 459, 463 Harlan, E. X, 175 Harlow, H. E, 580, 582, 594 Harlow, M. K., 580 Harmon, R. J., 172 Harmon-Jones, C., 532 Harmon-Jones, E., 532 Harold, R. D., 118, 119, 265, 318, 380 Harpalani, V., 402 Harrell, S., 394 Harris, J. R., 439 Harris, K. R., 521 Harrison, K., 234, 402 Harrist, A. W., 440 Hart, D., 203 Hart, S., 57, 321 Harter, S., 9, 91, 96, 109, 112, 113, 114, 173, 174, 176, 203, 204, 209, 210, 223, 226, 227, 228, 231, 301, 318, 330, 602 Hartmann, D., 393 Hartmann, H., 580 Hartup, W. W-, 291 Harwood, C-, 64, 322, 323 Harwood, R. L., 462 Hasbrook, C., 509 Hassin, R. R., 628 Hassmen, R,' 152 Hattie, J., 88, 89, 512 Hatzichristou, C., 282 Hatzigeorgiadis, A., 156, 157, 533 Hau, K. X, 478, 572 Haveman, R., 417, 423 Hayes, J. R., 611 Hayes, S., 550 Hazlett, S., 559 Heatherton, X E, 554, 637 Hebb, D. O-, 338, 599, 626 Heckhausen, H., 7, 33, 39, 40, 42, 43, 44, 45, 188, 191, 249, 630, 633, 656 Heckhausen, J., 8, 240, 241, 243, 244, 245, 246, 247, 248, 249, 252, 253, 473, 534 Hedges, L. V., 425 Heggestad, E. D., 148, 340, 343, 344, 346 Heider, E, 81, 584 Heiman, R., 460 Heimberg, R. G., 149, 153 Heine, C, 604 Heine, S. J., 8, 476, 492, 493, 496 Heinssen, R. K., 148 Heinz, W-, 243 Heinzen, X, 620 Helmreich, R. L., 340, 383 Helms, J., 393 Helms, W., 444 Hembree, R., 142, 148, 151, 152 Henderlong, J., 309 Henderson, M. D., 639 Hendrick, L, 581 Henggeler, S. W., 489 Henke, R. R., 425 Hennessey, B. A., 112, 612 Henry, D. B., 426 Herbst, K. C, 213 Herman, J. L., 262 Herman, R. E., 242 Hermans, H. J. M., 501 Hermsen, S., 400 Hernandez, M., 419 Herrnstein, R. J-, 27, 396, 437, 468 Hershey, K. L., 170, 171, 192 Hertzig, M. E., 169 Hertzman, C, 421 Hertzman, M-, 567 Hess, R. D., 264, 477 Hess, X M., 443 Hetherington, E. M., 223, 260, 422 Hetts, J. J., 492 Hevey, C., 262 Hewitt, J., 472 Heyman, G., 215 Hickey, C., 381 Hicks, J., 385 Hicks, L., 110, 364 Hidi, S., 111, 112, 301, 311, 355, 359, 364, 365, 366 Higgins, E. X, 7, 112, 209, 210, 494, 497, 528, 531, 533, 534, 627, 631, 632, 648 Hill, J. R, 232 Hiíl, K. G., 112 Hill, S. K., 559, 560 Hill, W. E, 580 Hillgruber, A., 3 Hillyard, E. J., 154 Hindel, C., 156 Hines, P, 149 Hinkley, K., 562 Hirayama, K. K., 475 Hirt, E. R., 559, 560 Ho, C., 398 Ho, D. Y. E, 496 Hoag, R., 610 Hocevar, D., 380 Hochschild, J. L., 471, 478 Hock, E., 422 Hodell, M., 516 Hodges, E. V. E., 289 Hodges, R., 305 Hodgkins, S., 634 Hofer, S. M., 64, 328 Hoff, D. J., 367 Hoff, E. H., 249 Hoffman, J., 203, 204, 210, 214 Hoffman, L. W., 272, 383, 414 Hoffman, M. B., 24 Hofman, V., 259, 267 Hofmann, D. A., 58, 346 Hofmann, V., 289 674 Author Index Hofstadter, D., 611, 618 Hogan, B., 511 Hokanson, J. E., 330 Hokoda, A., 262, 264, 266 Holland, D., 458 Holland, J. L., 339, 340, 342, 343 HolHngworth, H. L., 339, 340 Hollos, M., 207 Holloway, S. D., 477 Holman, J., 610 Holmbeck, G., 266 Holmes, D. S., 630 Holmes, J. G., 562 Holt, K., 58, 59, 586 Holyoak, K. J., 22 Horn, H. L., 58, 321 Hong, Y. Y., 124, 137 Hong, Y, 64, 123, 192, 461, 463, 478, 490, 491, 493, 494, 496, 497, 498, 499, 500, 659 Honíg, G., 634, 655 Hooper, R., 422 Hoover, P., 346 Hoover-Dempsey, K. V., 273 Hopf, D., 282 Hopko, D. R., 153 Hopmeyer, A., 283 Hopp, C., 380 Hoppe, E, 3, 6, 567 Hoppe, K., 614 Horn, J. L., 20, 338 Horn, T. S., 156, 318, 319, 509 Horner, M. S., 37, 384 Horner, M., 45 Horowitz, A., 248 Horvath, j. A., 18 Hotchkiss, L., 263 Howard, C., 403 Howes, C., 425 Howley, C., 369 Hoy, A. W., 312 Hoy, W. K., 99, 312 Hoyer, S., 34, 35, 45 Hoyle, R. H., 56, 80 Hruda, L. Z., 300 Hsee, C. K., 635 Hsu, F. L. K., 470 Hsu, S., 394 Huang, C. C, 417, 424 Hubbs-Tait, L., 422 Hubner, J. J., 228 Hudley, C., 281, 284, 396, 407, 440 Hufford, M. R., 543 Hughes, D., 403, 448 Hughes, M. E., 426 Huguet, P., 445, 571, 572, 574, 575 Hm, C. H., 496 Hull, C. L., 464, 472 Hull, S., 379 Hume, D., 500 Hunt, E., 349 Hunt, J., 601 Hunter, J. E., 338, 423, 606 Hurlbut, N. L., 380 Huston, A. C., 231, 419, 438 Hwang, J., 173 Hyde, J. S., 375, 376, 380, 381 Hymel, S., 96, 281, 288, 289 Iacono, W. G., 169 Ickes, W., 460 Idson, L. C., 648 Ilardi, B. C, 593 Inghilleri, P., 605 Ingram, R. E., 153 Inhelder, B., 204 Inouye, D. K., 520 Inzlicht, M., 123, 447, 448, 450, 452 losen, D., 366 Ip, G., 491 Ip, W., 493, 494 Irizarry, N. L., 462 Irwin, W., 169 Isen, A. M., 173 Iserman, E., 440 Ives, S. W., 176 Iyengar, S. S., 271, 473, 478, 492, 586 Izard, C. E., 80, 186 Izu, J., 100 Izzo, C. V., 262 Jacklin, C. N., 383 Jackson, A., 318, 414 Jackson, A. P., 417, 424, 428 Jackson, D., Ill, 94 Jackson, D. N., 32 Jackson, J. R., 439 Jackson, M. A., 81 Jackson, S. A., 604 Jackson, X, 155 Jacob, B., 366 Jacob, K., 263 Jacobs, J. E., 224, 225, 227, 232, 318,380, 381 Jacobsen, X, 259, 267, 289 Jacobson, J. L., 425 Jacobson, L., 438 Jacobson, M. E, 466 Jacobson, S. W., 425 Jacques, X Y, 179 Jagacinski, C. M., 56, 81 Jambunathan, S., 380 James, ]., 613, 614 James, W., 3, 9, 471, 601, 649 Jamison, K., 619 Janetzke, H., 655 Janis, I. L., 133 Janoŕf-Bulman, R., 189, 198 Janssen, O., 8 Jayaratne, X E., 418 jeffery, R. W., 520 Jeffries, B., 403 jelíen, H. U., 500 Jencks, C., 406, 415, 416, 425, 427, 437, 449 Jenkins, S. R., 46, 384 Jensen, A. R., 18, 337, 438, 468 Jensen, M. P., 647 Jerusalem, M., 152, 155 Jetten, J., 491, 641 Ji, L., 479, 495 Jodl, K. M., 265, 266 Johns, M., 445, 451 Johnson, D. M., 226 Johnson, D. W., 4 Johnson, M., 459, 460 Johnson, M. J., 94, 95, 302 Johnson, R. E., 142, 153 Johnson, R. X, 4 Johnston, R. C, 367 Jones, B., 516 Jones, C. J-, 350 Jones, E. E., 437, 439, 440, 549, 553, 555, 557, 558 Jones, J., 150 Jones, J. M., 480 Jones, K., 619 Jones, M., 399 Jordan, C. H., 203, 474, 570 Josephs, R. A., 381 Joshi, H. E., 421 Jourden, E J., 123, 128 Jozefowicz, D. M., 116 Juang, L. P, 266 Junge, M. E., 94 Jussim, L., 398 Juvonen, J., 83, 116, 289, 408 Kaczala, C. M., 265, 376 Kagan, J., 32, 33, 174, 188, 580 Kahle, J., 586 Kaiser, C-, 395 Kalff, A. C., 421 Kamins, M. L., 134, 190, 264, 658 Kanagawa, C., 492 Kanat-Maymon, Y, 304 Kane, X D., 514 Kanfer, R., 58, 336, 338, 340, 341, 345, 346, 350 Kantrowitz, X M., 341 Kao, G., 396, 397, 404 Kaplan, A., 63, 64, 298, 320, 325, 330, 355 Kaplan, H., 304 Kaplan, U., 492, 593 Karabenick, S. A., 37, 64 Author Index 675 Karoly, P., 647 Karpathian, M., 98, 228 Kashima, E. S., 490, 494 Kashima, Y, 490, 494 Kashiwagi, K., 461, 477 Kaslow, N. S., 194 Kasprow, W. J., 262 Kasser, X, 8, 593, 606 Kasser, V. G., 593 Kast, A., 587 Katigbak, M. S., 475, 476, 478 Katz, L, 309 Katz, L. B., 625 Katz, L. E, 424 Katz, P. A., 301, 309 Kauffman, M., 362 Kaufman, P., 460 Kavussanu, M., 64, 319, 326, 329 Kawada, C. L. K., 630 Kawakami, K., 400 Kawata, J., 367 Kazdin, A. E., 281 Keating, D. R, 223 Keating, X, 518 Keefe, K., 96, 224, 284 Keefer, C. H., 459 Keeler, G., 420 Keeney, X J., 208 Kehr, H. M., 250 Keith, X Z., 262 Kellaghan, X, 355 Keller, B., 356 Keiler, J., 381 Kelley, H. H., 9, 555, 584 Keíley, S. A., 209, 218, 263, 265 Keily, G., 500 Keíso, K. A., 81 Kemeny, M. E., 652 Kemmelmeier, M., 495 Kempen, H. J. G., 501 Kemper, S., 242 Kempner, S., 265 Kendall, P. C., 153 Kenney-Benson, G. A., 263 Kenny, D., 230 Keogh, B. K., 94 Kerig, P, 263 Kernis, M. H., 330, 563 Kerr, A., 322, 324 Kerr, B. A., 113 Kessler, R., 394 Ketron, J. L., 461 Khouri, H., 562 Kiang, L., 445 Kichuk, S. L., 346 Kiecolt-Glaser, J. K., 619 Kieffer, S. C., 156 Kihlstrom, J. E, 463, 550, 602 Killen, M., 440 Kim, A., 382, 440, 446 Kim, B. J., 495 Kim, H. S., 494 Kim, M. S., 325, 330 Kim, S. H., 80 Kim, Y, 8, 492, 593 Kimiecik, J. C., 319, 604 Kindermann, T. A., 96, 224, 283, 288 King, A., 287 Kinney, D., 279 Kinney, R. E, 658 Kinsborn, Y, 214 Kirk, E. P., 149, 153 Kirkby, R. J., 474 Kisker, E., 425 Kistner, J., 440 Kitayama, S., 8, 268, 458, 459, 460, 465, 473, 479, 492, 495 Kitsantas, A., 514, 516, 517, 518, 520, 521, 522 Kitto, J., 500 Kjormo, O., 63, 327 Klebanov, P. K., 414, 415, 419, 420, 421, 425 Kleiber, D. A., 318 Kleijn, W. C., 152 Klein, N. K., 420 Klein, S. P., 367 Klein, Z., 203 Kliegl, R., 242, 252 Kling, J. R., 424 Kling, K. C-, 376 Klinger, E., 33, 532, 533, 649 Klingman, A., 148 Klinnert, M. D., 174 Klisch, M. C., 146 Klonoff, E. A., 464 Knee, C. R., 133, 134, 156, 561 Kneisel, L., 300, 364 Knight, L. A., 148 Knowles, E. D., 491 Kochanska, G., 175, 178, 179, 192, 269, 270, 273 Kochenderfer-Ladd, B., 289 Kodya, S., 543 Koenig, A. L., 179 Koenig, H. G., 470 Koeske, R. D., 208 Koestner, J., 56, 58 Koestner, R., 32, 35, 359, 361, 362, 567, 584, 585, 586, 587 Kohen, D. E., 420, 421 Kohn, A., 362 Koivula, N., 152 Kojima, H., 473 Kok, G., 633 Kolditz, X A., 558 Koller, M., 74 Kolligian, J., Jr., 15 Kolt, G. S., 474 Kong, C. K., 572, 574 Koomen, W., 576 Kopp, C. B., 177 Korenman, S., 419, 420 Korn, S., 169 Kosmidou, E., 329 Kowalski, P. S-, 56 Kozlowski, S. W. J., 63, 64 Kramer, N. A., 586 Krampe, R. X, 15, 242, 251, 252, 339 Krane, V., 326 Kranzler, J., 93, 94, 95, 301 Krapp, A., 111, 172 Kremen, A. M., 175 Kreuger, J., 190 Krohne, H. W., 156 Krueger, J., 396 Kruger, J., 213 Kruger, L. J., 267 Kruglanski, A. W., 500, 625 Krusell, J., 587 Krysan, M., 396 Kuhl, J., 48, 516, 533, 638 Kuhn, D., 385 . Kuhn, L., 424 Kuhn, X S., 605 Kuiken, D., 602 Kukla, A., 7, 60, 126, 533 Kukla, R., 384 Kumar, N., 58 Kunda, Z., 569, 570, 572, 575 Kung, X M., 498 Kurdek, L. A., 283 Kurman, J., 493 Kurosawa, K., 155, 157 Kurowski, C. O-, 262, 273 Kurtz-Costes, B., 265 Kurz, R., 336 Kusche, A. G., 562 Kusserow, A., 479 Kuyper, H., 571 Kwan, J., 500 Kwan, V. S. Y, 493 Kwok, D. C., 476 Kyle, N., 614 Kyllonen, P. C, 20 LaBerge, D., 521 Lacasa, P, 460 Lachicotte, W., Jr., 458 Lachman, M. E., 247, 469, 649 Ladd, G. W., 281, 282, 283, 284, 286, 289, 291 LaFromboise, X, 405 La Guardia, J. G., 361, 363 Lai, S., 478, 497 Laine, R. D., 425 Lakoff, G., 459, 460 Lam, M., 8, 267, 404 676 Author Index Lambert, W., 395 Laraborn, D. D., 283 Laraborn, S. D., 262, 263 Laraon, S. J., 376, 380, 381 Lamont, M., 465, 479, 480 Lan, W. Y., 516, 519 Land, D. j., 266 Landrine, H., 464 Landy, F. J., 336 Lang, J. M., 493 Langer, E. J., 542 Lanza, S-, 225, 380 Lappe, L., 249 Lara, S. L., 419 Lareau, A., 480 Larivée, S., 92 Larkin, K. C, 93 Larouche, C, 58, 385 Larson, R. W., 266, 604 Lasley-Barajas, H., 403 Latane, E., 347 Latham, G. R, 87, 93, 346, 359, 510,514, 515, 604,625, 653 Lathin, D., 586 Lau, I. Y., 494 Lau, S., 229, 235 Laub, J. H., 422 Lauer, j., 56 Laurent, M., 326 Lave, J-, 22, 460 LaVeist, T., 395 Law, J. S. E, 497 Lawler, E. E., 584 Lawrence, J. S., 450 Lawrence, j. W., 529 Laychak, A. E., 284 Lazarus, R. S., 32, 137, 141, 154, 157, 618, 659, 660 Leadbeater, B. J., 422 Leaper, C, 439 Learner, D. G., 267 Leary, M. R., 10, 81, 144, 146, 152, 155, 394, 440, 550, 590 Le Bars, H., 385 LeDoux, J. E., 31 Lee, A. Y, 492, 497 Lee, H. K., 491 Lee, S., 397, 398, 401, 494, 498 Lee-Chai, A. Y.; 627 Lee-Kim, J., 440 LeFevre, J., 262, 603 Legault, L., 312 Leggett, E. L., 53, 54, 56, 79, 137, 193, 194, 226, 322, 326, 363, 461, 477, 550, 556, 657, 658 Lehman, D. R., 8, 460, 462, 478, 479, 490, 492, 493, 495 Lehrer, J., 517 Lehto, A. T., 364, 385 Leiderman, R, 271 Lein, L., 416 Leirer, V. O., 625 Leitenberg, H., 141, 144 Lemann, N., 466, 467 Lemery, K. S., 174 Lempert, W., 249 Lengŕelder, A., 636, 640 Lennon, C., 135 Lens, W., 46, 515 Lent, R. W., 92, 93, 472, 648, 650 Leonard, K., 399 Leone, D. R., 591, 593 Lepper, M. R., 113, 114, 271, 301, 309, 473, 478, 492, 516, 584, 586 Lerner, J. S., 658 Lerner, R., 244 Lesser, G. S., 35, 46 Leung, K., 498 Leung, M., 291 Leventhal, T., 414, 415, 418, 421 Levin, H. M., 123 Levin, R., 602 Levine, L., 7 LeVine, R. A., 462 Levy, B., 443 Lewenstein, M., 540 Lewin, K., 3, 6, 59, 90, 458, 533, 567, 568, 631, 649 Lewis, C. C, 461, 477, 479 Lewis, H. B., 190, 191, 195, 198 Lewis, M., 7, 185, 186, 187, 188, 189, 190, 192, 193, 194, 195, 198, 199, 215, 532 Ley, K., 512 Leyens, J. R, 443 Li, J., 8 Li, K. Z. H., 242 Li, Q., 494 Li, Y., 248 Lián, C. H. T., 242 Liaw, F. R., 419, 422 Lichtenstein, E., 149 Lichtman, R., 567 Lidz, C. S., 24 Lieberman, M., 394 Liebert, R. M., 146, 147 Liebman, J. B., 424 Likér, J., 22 Lilly, M. W., 94, 377 Lin, D. M. S., 64, 124, 497, 659 Lindenberg, S. M., 250 Lmdenberger, U-, 241, 242, 252, 476, 647 Linn, M. C, 376, 381 Linn, R. L., 356 Linnenbrink, E. A., 300, 386 Linver, M. R., 414, 420, 422, 423 Linviile, P. W., 437, 452, 537 Lipman, E. L., 421 Lirgg, C. D., 318 Litsky, E, 516 Little, T. D., 380, 476, 647, 648 Litwin, G. H., 43 Liu, J., 474 Lleras, C., 402 Lloyd, J., 319 Lochbaum, M., 324 Locke, E. A., 87, 93, 346, 359, 510, 514, 515, 604, 625, 648, 652, 653 Locke, J., 468 Lockwood, P., 569, 570, 572, 574, 575 Loeb, S., 367 Loebi, J-, 204 Loehr, J. E., 510 Loewenstein, G. E, 635 Lok, D., 500 Lombardi, W., 627 London, B. E., 135 Long, L., 417 Lonigan, C. J., 423 Lonky, E., 587 Loomis, C., 133 Looney, L., 288, 290 Loosbrock, D., 398 Lopez, D. E, 63 Lorenz, F. O., 422 Lorenz, S., 655 Lorenzo, U., 145 Losoff, M., 289 Love, J. M., 416 Lowell, E. L., 3, 19, 31, 59, 383, 568, 582 Lowery, B., 399 Lubart, T. L, 18, 19 Lucas, R. E., 493 Ludwig, A., 614 Ludwig, J. L., 402, 424, 440 Lummis, M., 378, 380 Lundy, G. E, 449 Luria, A. R., 178, 463 Lutgendorf, S. K., 8 Luthans, E, 92 Luu, P, 178 Lynch, C. L, 444 Lynch, J. H., 266, 361 Lynch, M. E., 232, 359, 360 Lyons, A., 494 Lyons-Ruth, K., 422 Lytton, H., 378 Maccoby, E. E., 41, 260, 379, 383, 387, 422 MacGyvers, V-, 300 Maclntyre, P. D., 152 Mac Iver, D. J., 204, 205, 209, 225, 226, 228, 303 Mack, D. E., 514 Author Index 677 MacKay, D. M., 528 MacKinnon, D. W., 609, 612, 614, 615 MacMillan, D. j., 94 Macrae, C. N., 641 Maczuga, S., 402 Madaus, G. E, 355 Madden, T. J., 394, 655 Madon, S., 398 Madsen, R., 469 Madson, L., 268 Maehr, M. L., 4, 8, 53, 54, 55, 56, 57, 58, 62, 63, 66, 224, 225, 226, 227, 298, 299, 320, 325, 330, 398, 461, 466, 474 Magnuson, K., 414 Maguire, R, 142, 143, 153 Magyar, T. M., 149 Mahler, W., 649 Mahoney, J. L., 265 Maier, G. W., 250 Main, D. S., 301 Major, B., 376, 382, 383, 395, 397, 407, 449, 450, 474, 480, 571 Malanchuk, O., 265 Malka, A., 64 Mallorie, L. M., 498 Malone, T. W., 301, 309 Malpass, J. R., 380 Man, E, 152 Manderlink, G., 585, 602 Mandler, G., 38, 39 Mangels, J., 130 Mangos, P. M., 346 Manhal, M., 266 Mao, L., 476 Marchand, J. E, 422 Marcia, J. E., 228 Margolin, G., 426 Marjoribanks, K., 265 Marks, G. R., 8 Marks, M. A., 514 Markstrom-Adams, C., 228, 234 Markus, H. R., 8, 229, 268, 458, 459, 460, 461, 465, 469, 470, 473, 474, 475, 479, 480, 492, 494, 528, 529 Marquis, A., 289 Marsh, H. W-, 88, 89, 147, 210, 215, 225, 228, 230, 232, 362, 380, 572, 573, 574, 575, 604 Marsh, R, 266 Marshall, T. R., 174 Marsiske, M., 242 Martens, R., 147, 149, 318 Martin, A. J., 362, 364 Martin, C. L., 228, 230, 407 Martin, R. P, 180, 568, 569 Martindale, C., 605 Martinez, L., 396 Martinez, P., 426 Martinez-Pons, M., 92, 225, 512, 513, 516, 650 Martocchio, J. J., 123, 128, 132 Maruyama, G., 376 Marx, D. M., 447 Marx, J., 417 Mashima, M., 478 Maslin-Cole, P. M., 172 Maslow, A. H., 472, 619 Mason, V., 300, 364 Massey, D. S., 449 Massimini, E, 111, 605 Masten, A. S., 8 Masuda, T., 479 Matas, L., 267 Matheny, A. R, 424 Mathews, J., 123 Mathieu, J. E., 63 Matsui, T., 94 Matsumoto, D., 112 Matsumoto, H., 492 Matthews, G., 145, 148, 151, 153, 154, 155, 156, 157, 159, 160 Matute-Bianchi, M., 401, 404, 405, 407 Matyanowski, M. L., 284 Maurer, T. j., 132 Mauro, J. A., 170 Mavaddat, R., 394 Mayer, D., 650, 652, 654, 655 Mayer, J. D., 23 Mayer, K. U., 243 Mayer, R. E., 515 Mayer, S. E., 415, 416, 423, 425 Mayo, C., 325 Mayr, U., 242, 249 McAdams, D., 66 McArdle, S., 330 McAuley, E., 648 Mcauliffe, B., 491 McCabe, L. A., 419 McCaffrey, D. E, 367 McCaffrey, N., 517 McCall, R. B., 172 McCandliss, B. D., 178 McCartney, K., 419 McCarton, C, 419, 425 McCarty, M., 263 McClelland, D. C, 3, 5, 6, 19, 31, 32, 33, 34, 35, 38, 39, 40, 41, 42, 44, 45, 46, 47, 48, 59, 66, 281, 383, 465, 472, 568, 582, 633, 648, 656 McClintic, S., 7, 188, 209 McCollam, T. L., 96, 224, 283 McConkey, K. M., 602 McCormick, M. C, 419, 420, 425 McCoy, S. K., 395, 449 McCrea, S. M., 559, 560 McCulloch, A., 421 McDaniel, M. A., 634 McDevitt, T. M., 264, 477 McDougali, P, 96 McDowell, D. J., 426 McDowell, N. K., 658 McElhaney, K. B., 266 McElroy, J. H., 471 McFarland, C, 266 McGee, R., 422 McGlothin, H., 440 McGovern, K. B., 149 McGrath, E. R, 266 McGregor, H. A., 6, 7, 61, 62, 63, 64, 110, 226,260, 346, 364, 445, 534, 568, 582, 614, 648, 658 Mclnerney, D. M., 147 Mcínerney, V., 147 McKay, L., 446, 447 McKenzie, L., 272 McKown, C, 438, 439, 444 McLanahan, S., 414, 415, 417, 420 McLeod, j. D., 420 McLoyd, V. C, 418, 419, 422 McMichael, A. J., 420 McNamara, C, 289 McNaughton, N., 174 McNeil, D. W., 153 McNeil, L., 365, 367 Mead, G. H., 458, 469, 589, 601 Meador, K. G., 470 Mednick, M. X, 384 Mee, L. L., 266 Meece, D. W., 292 Meece, J. L., 56, 57, 58, 59, 90, 91, 92, 94, 95, 115, 118, 119, 232, 300, 303, 310, 376, 380 Meece, J., 305 Mehrabian, A., 32, 340 Meichenbaum, D., 510, 520 Meier, D„ 369 Mellalieu, S., 146 Menaghan, E. G., 417 Mendelson, M. j., 284 Mendiola, S., 396 Mendoza-Denton, R., 448 Menon, X, 491, 493, 494 Mento, A. J., 346 Meredith, W., 350 Merton, R., 398 Messer, D. J., 172 Metcalfe, J., 635 Metzler, A., 440 Meyer, D. K. ,63,310,311 Meyer, D. R., 580 Meyer, J. P, 639 678 Author Index Meyer, W., 60 Michael, A., 265 Michael, R. T., 415, 416, 420 Michaelis, B., 562 Michalson, L., 185, 186, 187, 188 Mickelson, K., 394 Mickelson, R. A., 234 Mickey, M. R., 198 Midden, C, 640 Middleton, C, 326 Middleton, M. J., 63, 64, 298, 355, 386 Midgley, C, 57, 58, 63, 64, 94, 96,99, 110, 112, 115,222, 225, 226, 227, 298, 299, 300, 303, 306, 310, 311, 312, 326, 355, 364, 380, 381, 386 Miech, R., 420 Miguel-Tobal, J. J., 159 Mikulincer, M., 532 Miles, A., 350 Miller, A., 58 Miller, A. T., 204, 205, 206, 217 Miller, C, 395 Miller, D. T., 552 Miller, G. A., 528 Miller, G. E., 538 Miller, J. E., 419 Miller, J. G., 458, 462, 464, 465, 473, 478 Miller, M. D., 94, 302, 377, 648 Miller, N. E., 529, 580 Miller, R. B., 58, 64 Miller, S. A., 266 Miller, S. D., 302, 310 Milne, S., 634, 635 Milner, K. R., 64 Minis, V., 361, 585 Mineka, S., 187 Minich, N. M., 420 Minor, L. L., 118 Minsky, M. L., 459, 460 Mischel, W., 44, 47, 137, 179, 463, 490, 528, 625, 635, 648, 649 Misra, G., 460, 462, 464, 474 Mistry, J., 208 Miville, M., 403 Miyamoto, Y., 479 Moeller, G. H., 46 Moffitt, T. E., 421 Moghaddam, E, 395 Mohamed, A. A. R., 151 Molden, D. C, 127, 648 Molenaar, P. C. M., 539 Moll, J., 400 Moller, A. C, 64, 67, 138, 346, 364, 365, 588 Monahan, L., 385 Moneta, G., 266 Moniz, A., 81 Monteil, J. M., 571 Monteith, M. J., 448 Montgomery, D., 403 Montgomery, K. C, 580, 581 Montuori, A., 612 Mook, D. G., 463 Moon, T. R., 365 Morenoff, J., 424 Morf, C. C, 553, 554, 559 Morgan, C., 32 Morgan, G. A., 172 Morgan, K., 325 Moritz, S. E., 514 Morling, B., 479 Morris, L. W., 146, 147 Morris, M. W., 464, 491, 493, 494, 498 Morris, P. A., 423 Morris, W. N., 210 Morrison, A. P., 190 Morrison, H. W., 34 Mory, M. S., 279 Mosatche, H. S., 210 Moseley, M., 180 Moshman, D., 223 Moskowkz, G. B., 626, 633, 640 Moss, E., 267 Moss, J. E., 349 Mossholder, K. W., 586 Mostelíer, F., 425 Mount, M. K., 341, 346 Mounts, N. S., 263, 264, 283 Mowrer, O. H., 7 Mraz, W., 619 Mrázek, D. A., 174 Mueller, C. M., 134, 190, 264, 398, 602 Mueller, J. H., 145, 152 Mullen, B., 204 Multon, D. K., 472 Multon, K. D., 92, 648, 650 Mumford, M. D., 609, 620 Mumme, D., 191, 263 Munro, D., 470 Muraven, M., 33, 637 Murdock, T. B., 83 Murray, C, 27, 396, 437 Murray, D. M., 510, 511, 515, 516, 517, 521, 523 Murray, H. A., 339, 472, 582, 648, 656 Murray, J. D., 543 Murray, K. X, 175, 192 Murray, K., 179, 192 Murray, L., 422 Murray, S. L., 562 Murry, V. M., 292 Murtha, T., 341 Mussweiler, T., 576 Myers, A. K., 580 Myers, D. G-, 376 Mylosis, D., 329 Nagasaka, T., 155 Nakamura, J., 600, 603, 606 Nanayakkara, A., 133 Natriello, G., 366 Navasky, V., 615 Naveh-Benjamin, M., 145, 153, 156 Neckerman, J. J., 96 Neighbors, C., 133 Neighbors, H., 395 Neil, M., 365, 366, 367 Neíss, R., 149 Neisser, U., 20 Nelson, R. M., 380 Nemcek, D., 210 Nemeth, C., 500 Nesse, R. M., 532 Nesselroade, J. R., 534 Neter, E., 213 Neubert, M. J., 346 Neuman, G. A., 346 Neves, D. M., 521 Nevo, B., 148 Newcomb, A. E, 282, 284, 291 Newman, D., 58 Newman, L. S., 626 Newman, R. S-, 273, 511 Newton, M. L., 63, 320, 321, 323, 325, 326, 330 Ng, E E, 263, 264, 270, 273 Ng, S. H., 499 Nicholls, J. G., 4, 5, 8, 39, 53, 54, 55, 56, 57, 58, 59, 62, 66, 81, 98, 110, 112, 115, 194, 202, 203, 204, 205, 206, 208, 217, 226, 272, 312, 318, 319, 320, 322, 323, 324, 325, 326, 327, 328, 329, 331, 355, 363, 364, 385, 516, 557 Nickerson, R. S., 123 Nickíaus, J., 510, 511 Niemivirta, M., 517 Niessen, C, 64 Niiya, Y., 123, 128, 129 Niles, S., 474 Nisbett, R. E., 451, 458, 473, 479, 495, 496, 584, 625 Nishina, A., 289 Nissen, H. W., 580 Niu, W., 500 Nolen, S. B., 56, 58, 385 Nolen-Hoeksema, S-, 191, 195, 263 Noll, E., 402 Norasakkunkit, V., 492 Norem, J. K., 561 Author Index 679 Norenzayan, A., 479, 495, 496, 497 Northridge, M. E., 425 Nowak, A., 540 Ntoumanis, N., 319, 321, 324, 325, 326 Nunes, T., 22 Nurius, P., 528, 529 Nuss, C. K., 394, 436 Nussbaum, D., 131 Nyheim, M., 63 Nyman, M., 179 Oakes, J., 356 Oberklaid, E, 171 O'Brien, L., 444 Ochiltree, G., 265 O'Connor, B. P., 593 O'Connor, C., 402 O'Connor, E. A., 517 O'Connor, P., 45, 424 Oden, S., 281 Odom, R. D., 204 O'Donnel, B. K., 266 Oettingen, G., 100, 380, 476, 630, 633, 634, 635, 638, 639, 641, 642, 647, 648, 650, 652, 653, 654, 655, 656, 659, 660, 662 Offer, D., 266 Offer, J. B., 266 Ogbu, J. U., 234, 401, 402, 437, 440, 480 Ogilvie, D. M., 529 Ohly, S., 64 Ohman, A., 187 Ohnuki-Tierney, E., 460 Oishi, S., 272, 476, 493 Okagaki, L., 24, 28, 233, 234, 235, 403 Okazaki, S., 397 O'Leary, A., 648 Oleson, K. C, 555 Oliver, M. B., 376 Olson, J. M., 648 Olson, L., 329 Olson, S. L., 179 Olweus, D., 289 O'Maíley, P. M., 46 Omelich, C. L., 113 Ommundsen, Y., 132, 323 O'Neil, H. E, Jr., 380 O'Neil, R., 426 Onishi, M., 495 Op'T Eynde, R, 515 Orbeil, S., 633, 634, 635, 641 Orbuch, T. L., 537 O'Reilly, J., 610 Orensrein, R, 231 Orfield, G., 366 Orlicíc, T., 517 Ort, S., 369 Ortony, A., 82, 530 Osborne, J. W., 397, 407, 440, 450 Osgood, D. W., 225, 380 Osofsky, J. D., 426 Owens, D., 517 Oyserman, D., 229, 230, 233, 234, 235, 397, 402, 480, 495, 496 Ozer, D., 81 Padgett, R. J., 425 Pagani, L., 420 Pajares, E, 87, 89, 92, 93, 94, 95, 97, 98, 99, 225, 301, 302, 309, 377, 385, 515, 648 Pak, H., 638, 652, 657, 658 Palmerscheim, K., 465 Pals, J. L., 123, 124, 126, 137, 138 Pancake, V. R., 266 Panksepp, J., 36, 37, 168, 169 Papaioannou, A., 319, 329 Papko, O., 148 Parcel, T. L., 417 Parent, S., 92 Park, C. L., 137 Park, D. C, 635 Park, K., 284 Parke, R. D., 259, 426 Parker, J. G., 141, 142, 159, 223, 224, 279, 283, 288, 291, 573 Parkhurst, J. T., 281, 283 Parnass, j., 284 Parrott, W. G., 81 Parsons, J. E., 4, 209, 265 Pastorelu, C., 266, 648 Patashnick, M., 56, 115 Patnoe, S., 440, 451, 567 Patrick, B. C., 591 Patrick, C, 615 Patrick, H., 63, 133, 300, 310, 311 Pattee, L., 282 Patterson, G. R., 422 Patterson, M. J., 499 Paulsen, A. S., 516 Paulus, D. L., 550 Peak, L., 462 Peake, P. K., 179 Pear, J. J., 510 Pedlow, R., 171 Peet, S. H., 266 Pelham, B. W., 492, 572 Pelletier, L. G., 312 Pelletier, L., 325 Pemberton, M., 553 Peng, K., 464, 479, 495 Pennebaker, J. W., 619 Pensgaard, A. M., 325 Pepitone-Arreoia-Rockwell, E, 489 Peregoy, P. L., 539 Peres, C, 327 Perkins, D. N., 123 Perry, S. K., 604 Perry, T. B., 289 Pervin, L. A-, 528 Petersen, A. C, 223, 289 Petersen, T., 415 Peterson, J. B., 542 Petit, G. S., 272 Petrie, S., 290 Petrill, S. A., 20 Pettk, G. S., 270, 292 Petty, R. E., 446 Pezdek, K., 266 Pham, L. B., 651 Phillips, D. A., 94, 263, 265, 425, 426 Phillips, K., 424 Phillips, M., 406, 415, 427, 437, 449 Phinney, J. S-, 228, 233, 236, 393, 394, 400 Piaget, J., 187, 204, 205, 206, 207, 286, 287, 530, 599, 618, 619 Pichert, J. W., 625 Pieper, S. L., 64 Pierce, C., 394 Pierce, G. R-, 147 Pierce, H. R-, 132 Pierce, J., 403 Pierce, W. D., 355, 359, 585 Pierson, L., 305 Pietsch, J., 648 Pike, R., 203, 210 Piion, D. A., 41, 42, 45 Pincus, A. L„ 423 Pinel, E. C, 448, 449 Pinkerman, B., 419 Pinquart, M., 248 Pintrich, P. R., 58, 60, 63, 64, 91, 93, 95, 96, 110, 112, 223, 224, 225, 226, 297, 301, 303, 305, 323, 363, 385, 386, 472, 516, 517 Pinulas, A., 179 Piotrowski, M-, 346 Pittinsky, T. L., 382, 387, 446 Pittman, N. L-, 532 Pirtman, T. S., 532, 586 Plant, E. A., 376 Plant, R., 362, 586, 589 Platts, C, 350 Plaut, V. C, 457, 469, 470 Plomin, R., 192, 421 Plucker, J., 615 Poe-Yamagata, E., 399 Polanyi, K., 459 Pollack, K., 396 680 Author Index Pollack, S. L., 194 Pomerantz, E. M, 214, 259, 262, 263, 265, 268, 269, 270, 271, 272, 273, 288, 378 Pope, C, 399 Popham, W. J., 359, 367 Porac, J., 586 Porter, L. W., 584 Portes, A., 404 Posner, J., 421 Posner, M. L, 169, 177, 178, 181 Posner, R. A., 350 Postman, N., 436, 442 Postmes, T., 491 Potašová, A., 425 Potter, D., 471 Pouiiasi, K., 498 Powell, D. R-, 266 Powers, W. T., 528, 535, 536 Pratto, F., 407 Pressley, M., 98, 510 Pribram, K. H., 528 Price, J. M., 284, 290, 291 Price-Williams, D. R., 475 Prior, M., 171 Pritchard, M. E., 156 Pryor, j., 627 Pryor, K. W., 610 Purdie, N., 512 Purdie, V., 448 Purser, R., 612 Putnam, S. P., 192 Pyszczynski, T., 491, 527 Quanc, J. M., 426 Quatman, T., 232 Quinn, D. M., 381, 440, 442, 443, 4445 4475 470 Quinton, W. J., 395, 449 Rabalais, A. E., 153 Rachlin, H-, 356 Raczek, A., 355 Raglin, J. S., 150, 156 Rahhal, X, 443 Raina, M. K., 612 Raina, X N., 612 Ramirez, M., 475 Ramsay, D, S., 187, 188, 192, 193, 532 Rand, Y., 24 Rankin, B. H., 426 Rathunde, K., 602, 603 Raudenbush, S. W., 424, 426 Raver, C. C, 422 Rawsthorne, L. J., 59 Ray, M., 460 Raymond, P., 627 Raynor, J. O., 45 Read, S. J., 528 Reader, M. K, 586 Ready, R., 273 Reardon, S. E, 366 Rebello, P., 414 Rebello-Britto, P., 419 Recchia, S., 7, 188, 209 Redding, R. E., 172 Reed, G. M., 652 Reed, M. A., 171, 175 Reeve, J. M., 304, 362, 588 Reglin, G. L., 475 Rehm, L. P., 194 Reid, G., 363, 585, 587, 603 Reinboth, M., 329, 330 Reinhardt, J., 248 Reis, H. X, 5, 64, 592 Reitman, W., 34 Renninger, K. A., Ill, 112, 301 Renno, P. A., 266 Renold, E., 231 Renshaw, K., 493 Repetti, R. L., 266 Reppucci, N. D., 53, 126 Reser, J. P., 602 Reuman, D. A., 225, 303 Reznick,J. S., 174 Rhee, E., 491, 494 Rheinberg, F., 48, 127, 648 Rhodewalt, E, 131, 132, 548, 549, 552, 553, 554, 555, 557, 558, 559, 560, 561 Rholes, W. S-, 203 Ricciuti, H. N., 35 Richards, M. H., 266 Richards, R., 610 Richardson, E C, 143, 157 Richter, L., 249, 500, 538 Richters, J. E., 426 Ridge, B., 270 Rifkin, B., 27 Ringenbacb, K. L-, 58, 346 Ringle, J., 93 Risi, S-, 440 Rist, R., 439 Ritter, P., 271 Rivkin, I. D., 651 Rix, S. £., 375 Roazzi, A., 22 Robbins, R. J., 263 Roberts, B. W., 39, 349 Roberts, D., 271, 395 Roberts, G. C, 53, 63, 64, 318, 319, 320, 323, 324, 325, 326, 329, 514 Roberts, X, 214 Robins, R. W., 123, 124, 125, 126, 137, 138 Robinson, G., 425 Roby, R. A., 3 Roe, A., 339, 612 Roese, N. J., 648 Roeser, R. W., 63, 229, 235 Rogers, C. R., 360, 472, 619 Rogers, S., 396 Rogoff, B., 208, 459, 460, 462 Rogosch, E A., 422 Rohde, W., 33, 47, 48 Rokeach, M., 110 Rolfhus, E. L., 345 Roman, J. S., 447 Roman, R. J., 491 Romney, D. M., 378 Ronan, K., 153 Rong, X., 404 Rook, K. S., 248 Root, M. P. P., 228 Root-Bernstein, R., 618 Roscoe, J., 592 Rose, P., 562 Roseman, I. J., 7 Rosen, B. C, 41, 42, 265, 408 Rosen, L. D., 142, 143, 153 Rosenholtz, S. J., 305 Rosenthal, R., 398, 437, 438 Rosenthal, X L., 519, 520 Ross, C. A., 198 Ross, L., 399, 464, 625 Ross, M., 498, 552 Rotenberg, K. J-, 281 Roth, D. A., 153, 157 Roth, G., 304, 591 Roth, J., 542 Roth, P. L., 342 Rothbart, M. K-, 167, 168, 169, 170, 171, 172, 173, 174, 177, 178, 179, 180, 181, 192, 193, 420 Rothbaum, F. M., 473 Rothenberg, A., 619 Rotondo, J. L., 133 Rotter, J. B., 91, 473 Roweil, R. K., 180 Rowley, S., 400 Rubenson, D. L-, 610, 612, 620 Rubin, I. M., 45 Rubin, K. H., 223, 279, 280, 282, 284 Ruble, D. N., 204, 210, 211, 212, 213, 214, 216,218, 230, 263, 268, 269, 273, 288, 378, 648 Ruble, D., 407 Rubovits, P., 398 Rudolph, U., 78 Rudowicz, E., 500 Rueda, M. R., 178 Rueter, M. A., 418 Ruff, H. A., 173 Rufo, M., 327, 328 Rumbaut, R., 404 Runco, M. A., 609, 610, 611, 612, Author index 681 614,615, 616, 617,618,619, 620 Russin, A., 400 Ruvolo, A. R, 133 Ruzany, N., 209, 210, 211, 212 Ryan, A. M., 63, 283, 288, 310, 386 Ryan, B. A., 610 Ryan, M., 380 Ryan, R. H., 419 Ryan, R. M., 6, 10, 56, 108, 109, 112, 113, 114, 115, 176, 225, 260, 262, 263, 264, 266, 267, 272, 301, 303, 304, 327, 354, 355, 359, 360, 361, 362, 363, 368, 473, 478, 491, 492, 563, 582, 583, 584, 585, 586, 587, 588, 589, 590, 592, 593, 594, 599, 602, 603, 605, 606 Ryff, C. D., 260, 465, 537 Saari, L. M., 604 Sachau, D. A., 56, 602 Sachs, J., 385 Sage, R. M., 658 Sager, C. E., 620 Sakamoto, L, 235, 397 Saklofske, D. H., 151 Sakuma, M., 492 Salamone, j. D., 38 Salas, E., 346 Salili, E, 463, 474, 475, 478, 497 Salinas, M. E, 443, 445, 446 Salmon, J., 300, 306 Salovey, R, 23 Saltarelli, L. M., 173 Salthouse, T. A., 250 Saltzman, H., 424, 659 Sameroff, A. J., 265, 422 Sampson, R. J., 422, 424, 426 Sanbonmatsu, D. M., 561 Sanborn, M., 214 Sandefur, G., 414, 417 Sanders, M., 112 Sandy, J. M., 179 Sanson, A. V., 171 Šansone, C., 56, 58, 301, 591, 602 Santos, L., 394 Sarason, B. R., 147 Sarason, I. G., 147 Sarason, S. B., 39 Sarrazin, P., 64, 324, 325, 327, 328 Saunders, K. N., 499 Saunders, P. T., 539 Sawyer, K., 604 Saxon, J. L., 272 Sayer, A., 8 Scarr, S., 259, 272, 425 Schaal, B., 636 Schaffer, H. R-, 174 Schaller, M., 490 Scheier, M. E, 7, 143, 152, 154, 155, 249, 356, 515, 527, 528, 529, 530, 531, 533, 535, 536, 537, 538, 539, 540, 541, 639, 648, 654, 658, 659, 660 Scherl, L. M., 602 Schiefde, U., 105, 111, 112, 172, 222, 259, 302, 407 Schilling, E. M-, 179 Schimmack, U-, 493 Schippmann, J. S., 342 Schlenker, B. R., 81, 144 Schleyer, E., 151 Schmader, X, 397, 445, 448, 451 Schmidt, A., 395 Schmidt, A. M., 64, 346 Schmidt, C., 650 Schmidt, F. L., 423 Schmidt, j. A., 604 Schmitt, M., 395 Schmuck, R, 606 Schneider, K., 209 Schneider, S. L., 652 Schnetter, K., 638, 652 Schoenfeld, A. H., 312 Schofield, J., 409 Schonert-Reichl, K., 96 Schopflocher, D., 602 Schrauben, B., 112, 472 Schultheiss, O. C., 31, 32, 33, 39, 45, 47, 48 Schultz, R., 8 Schulz, R., 240, 241, 243, 244, 246, 247, 248, 249, 252, 527, 534, 538 Schuman, H., 396 Schunk, D. H., 63, 85, 87, 89, 91, 93, 94, 95, 96, 97, 98, 110, 224, 289, 302, 305, 309, 385, 513, 517, 519, 520, 648, 650, 662 Schwab-Stone, M. E., 426 Schwartz, A. J., 304, 362, 588 Schwartz, B., 598 Schwartz, D., 289, 291 Schwarz, N., 635 Schwarzer, C, 148 Schwarzer, R-, 148, 152, 155 Schwean, V. L., 151 Scollon, R., 462 Scollon, S-, 462 Scott, P. L., 180 Scott, W. E., 585 Scribner, S., 479 Sealand, N., 420 Sears, P. S., 3, 90, 567 Sears, R. R., 41, 59 Seay, R., 402 Sechrist, G. B., 395, 494 Sedikides, C, 213, 493, 550, 552, 553 Seefeldt, C., 234 Seefeldt, V., 509 Segal, S. W., 194 SeguinXevesque, C, 312 Seifer, R., 422 Seifriz, J. J., 57, 320, 323, 325, 326 Seipp, B., 142, 148 Seitsinger, A., 394 Seldon, K. M., 492 Self, E, A., 538, 542 Seligman, M. E. P., 126, 191, 193 Sellers, R., 395, 400, 403 Sen, A., 354 Senechal, M-, 262 Sennett, R., 243 Serpell, R., 16 Shah, J., 7, 533, 534 Shanahan, M. J., 420 Shanker, A., 357, 358 Shapira, Z., 587 Shapiro, L. J., 461, 462, 463, 473, 478 Sharma, S., 152 Shavelson, R. J-, 88, 228, 230 Shaver, P., 384, 385 Shavitt, S., 494 Shaw, D. S., 422 Shaw, K. N., 604 Shaw, R. A., 425 Sheeran, R, 633, 634, 635, 641 Sheinman, L., 304, 362, 588 Sheldon, K. M., 7, 8, 48, 592, 606 Shell, D. E, 225, 302, 309, 648 Shelton, j., 400 Shen, J. L., 248 Shepard, L., 356 Sherif, C. W., 440 Sherif, M-, 272, 440 Sherman, D. A., 466, 480 Sherman, D. K., 658 Shields, A. L., 543 Shih, M., 382, 387, 446 Shim, M., 394 Shiner, R. L., 173, 174 Shoda, Y., 137, 179, 490, 528 Shonkoff, J. R, 426 Shore, B., 490 Shovar, N., 81 Showers, C. J., 376, 537 Shumow, L., 421 Shure, M. B., 280, 281 Shurin, C. S., 319 Shweder, R. A., 458, 459, 495 Sidanius, J., 407 Sieber, R. X, 289 Siegler, R. S., 207 682 Author Index Sifonis, C. M., 499 Sigelman, J. D., 532 Silber, K., 360 Silbereisen, R. K., 248, 266 Silva, P. A., 171, 174, 422 Silverman, E. S., 497 Simmering, M. j., 346 Simon, H. A., 611 Simon, T., 27, 337, 467 Simons, J., 515 Simons, R. L., 394, 422 Simonson, 1., 491 Simonton, D. K., 251, 339, 500, 612, 619 Simpson, C, 305 Simpson, G. A., 417 Sinclair, R. J., 283 Singelis, T. M., 493 Singer, B., 260, 415 Singer, J. L., 649 Singer, T., 242 Singh, S., 45 Singhal, R., 474 Siperstein, G. N., 291 Siu, S. E, 476 Sjaastad, J. E., 419 Sjomeling, M., 444 Skaalvik, E. M., 35, 59, 63, 89, 326 Skiba, R. J., 399 Skinner, B. E, 610 Skinner, D., 458 Skinner, E. A., 6, 9, 224, 267, 304, 425, 647, 648 Sletta, O., 59 Slocum, J. W., 346 Slowiaczek, M. L., 261, 262 Smethurst, C. J., 604 Smiley, P. A., 58, 64, 135, 192, 215 Smith, A. J., 493 Smith, B., 149 Smith, C. P., 45 Smith, D., 575 Smith, E., 402 Smith, E. E., 123, 495 Smith, E. M., 346 Smith, I. D., 230 Smith, J., 15, 422 Smith, J. L., 443 Smith, J. R., 414, 415, 419, 420, 422 Smith, M., 328, 329, 400, 425 Smith, R., 81, 586 Smith, R. E., 97, 153, 156, 509 Smith, R. J., 152 Smith, S., 476 Smith, T. L., 367 Smith, T. W., 153, 156, 438, 558, 562 Smith, W. E., 586 Smith, W. R., 617 Smoll, F. L., 509 Smoliar, J., 287, 292 Snead, S-, 510 Snibbe, A. C., 406, 465, 470, 473, 479 Snidman, N., 174 Snow, C. E., 423 Snow, J., 326 Snow, R. E., 94 Snyder, C. R., 156, 533, 558, 562 Snyder, J., 289 Snyder, S. S-, 473 Sokefeld, M., 499 Soídz, S-, 423 Solomon, R. L., 37, 38 Solomon, S., 491 Solorzano, D., 394 Sommers, E. H., 232 Sonnentag, S., 64 Soos, L, 319 S0rensen, A. B., 243 Sorkin, D. H., 248 Sot, V., 326 Sowarka, D., 242 Spangler, G., 173 Spangler, W. D., 32, 45, 46, 340 Sparrow, P. R., 250 Spaulding, J., 417 Spearman, C, 337 Spear-Swerling, L., 18 Speight, S., 402 Spence, J. X, 35, 66, 340, 383, 464, 470, 472, 473, 478 Spencer, M. B-, 228, 234, 402 Spencer, S. J., 381, 397, 440, 441, 442, 443, 444, 445, 446, 447, 451, 553 Sperber, D., 490 Spicer, C. V., 448 Spiegel, N. H-, 362 Spiegel, S., 648 Spielberger, C. D., 143, 145, 146, 153 Spikes D., 423 Spindler, G., 471 Spindler, L., 471 Spivack, G-, 280, 281 Spray, C. M., 64, 132, 319 Spurr, J. M., 155 Srivastava, A. K., 462 Sroufe, A., 267 Sroufe, L. A., 266 Sruíl, T. K., 625, 627 Stafŕieri, A., 287 Stajkovic, A. D., 92 Stanger, C., 187 Stangor, C., 395, 440, 445, 494 Stanton, G. C., 228 Stapel, D. A., 576 Starfield, B., 420 Staudinger, U. M., 241 Staw, B. M., 585 Stebbins, R. A., 81 Stecher, B. M., 367, 368 Steeh, C., 396 Steele, C. C. M., 129, 234, 381, 396, 397, 399, 402, 407, 440, 441, 442, 443, 444, 446, 449, 450, 451, 466, 480 Steele-Johnson, D., 346 Steen, S., 399 Steffen, V. J., 376 Stegge, H., 193 Stein, G. L., 604 Stein, N. L., 7 Steinberg, L., 94, 96, 234, 260, 262, 263, 264, 269, 271, 283, 422, 476 Stein-Seroussi, A., 554 Steiler, B., 640 Stephens, M. A. P., 649 Sternberg, R. J., 15, 18, 19, 21, 22, 23, 24, 26, 27, 28, 123, 437, 450, 459, 461, 463, 490, 500, 616 Sretsenko, A., 380, 647 Stevens, N., 291 Stevenson, H. W., 95, 234, 261, 271, 273, 378, 380, 477, 492 Stewart, A. J., 383 Stewart, E. C., 463, 465 Stewart, G. L., 346 Stewart, I. N., 539 Stichick, T. L., 426 Stigler, J. W., 476, 477 Stiller, J. D., 266, 361, 362, 368 Stinson, L., 460 Štipek, D. J., 7, 56, 188, 191, 203, 204, 205, 209, 210, 211, 214, 226, 300, 306, 382, 419 St. Laurent, D., 267 Stokes, P. D., 610 Stoltzfus, J., 402 Stone, A. J., 375, 377 Stone, D. N., 98 Stone, J., 444, 445, 449 Stone, M. R., 283 Stopa, L., 155 Storandt, M., 648 Strack, E, 627 Strahan, E. Y., 149 Strauss, J. P., 346 Strauss, N. L., 379 Strayer, E E, 210 Strayer, J., 210 Streiau, J., 168, 169 Strieker, L. J., 449 Stroebe, M. S., 537 Author Index 683 Stroebe, W., 537 Strong, E. K., Jr., 339, 349 Strube, M., 550 Styfco, S. J., 425 Su, S. K., 476, 493 Suarez-Orozco, C., 404 Suarez-Orozco, M. M., 404, 475 Sucoff, C. A., 426 Sue, S., 397, 489 Suh, E. M., 493 Sujan, H., 58 Sullivan, E. V., 176 Sullivan, M. A., 495 Sullivan, M. W., 7, 187, 195, 199, 532 Sullivan, W. M-, 469 Suis, J., 204, 567, 568, 569, 572 Sumner, M., 641 Super, C. M., 459 Suskind, R., 447 Sutton, M. A., 339 Suzuki, L. K., 233 Swain, A., 64, 150, 322, 323 Swann, W. B., Jr., 9, 550, 554 Swanson, C. B., 366 Swanson, C. C, 543 Swanson, K. R., 543 Swartz, C. W., 94, 97 Swidler, A., 469 Swim, J., 376, 395 Switzer, F. S., Hl, 342 Syrotuik, D. G-, 147 Tabernero, C-, 128, 132 Tafarodi, R. W., 9, 493, 548 Takaki, R., 471 Talleyrand, R., 393 Tangney, J., 190, 198 Tao, V., 493 Taška, L., 198 Tataryn, D. J., 602 Tatum, B., 401 Tauer, J. M., 45, 298, 414 Taylor, A., 284, 396, 421, 440 Taylor, A. Z., 233 Taylor, B. A., 419 Taylor, C, 178 Taylor, D., 395 Taylor, H. G., 420 Taylor, R., 395, 407 Taylor, S., 567, 571 Taylor, S. E., 213, 215, 461, 473, 476, 651, 652, 658 Teasdale, J. D., 126 Tellegen, A., 173, 602, 604 Templin, T., 329 Tenenbaum, G-, 149 Tenenbaum, H., 439 Teo, G-, 8, 493 Tesch, E, 572 Tesch-Römer, C., 15, 251, 339 Tesser, A., 81, 130, 543, 553, 574 Testa, M., 383, 571 Thill, E., 324 Thom, R., 539 Thomas, A., 169, 170, 192, 402 Thomas, D., 402 Thomas, K. M., 178 Thomas, P. R., 604, 605 Thomas, V. G., 384 Thompson, W. B., 145 Thomson, E., 420 Thorkildsen, T. A., 56, 312, 364 Thorndike, E. L., 337, 339, 359, 489 Thornton, A., 419 Thorpe, J. S., 654, 655 Thorpe, P., 63 Thrash, T. M., 6, 48, 61, 62, 64, 65, 175, 217, 260, 267, 364, 414, 439, 516, 568, 582, 638, 648, 656 Thurstone, L. L., 338, 341 Tice, D. M., 33, 156, 560, 637 Tienda, M., 404, 417 Tiggemann, M., 80 Tighe, E. M., 112 Tipton, S. M., 469 Tisak, J., 289 Tisak, M. S., 490 Tobias, B. A., 602 Tobias, S., 111 Tobin, J. J., 457, 477 Toch, X, 357 Toguchi, Y., 213, 493 Tolan, P., 426 Tollefson, N., 312 Xomasik, M., 248 Xomassone, J., 305 Xomes, N., 417, 423 Tomkins, S., 186 Tomlinson, C. A., 365 Tong, Y., 496, 497 Tonks, S., 235 Topman, R. M., 152 Torff, B., 23 Torrance, E. P., 612 Xoth, S. L., 422 Xownsend, A. L., 649 Townsend, T., 402 Trafimow, D., 497, 635 Tragakis, M., 549, 555, 558 Treasure, D. C., 63, 64, 319, 320, 322, 323, 325, 326 Treisman, U., 451 Tremblay, R. E., 420 Tresemer, D., 384 Triandis, H. C, 493, 497 Troia, G. A., 521 Trope, Y, 213 Tross, S. A., 132 Trötschel, R., 627, 638, 641 Trueba, H. X, 475 Trusty, J., 426 Trzesniewski, K., 123, 124, 125, 138 Tschannen-Moran, M., 312 Tschanz, B. X, 561 Xseng, V-, 8, 267, 268, 404 Xsukamoto, S-, 94 Xucker, C. J-, 417, 425 Xucker, C. M., 425 Xupes, E. C, 341 Turley, R. N. L., 421 Turner, E J., 471 Turner, J. C., 63, 300, 306, 310, 311 Tweed, R. G., 460, 462, 478, 479 Twenge, J. W., 394, 436 Tyier, L. E., 383 Tyson, K., 439 Tyson, R., 543 Uleman, J. S., 491, 626 Undheim, J. O., 94 Untch, A. S., 291 Urban, K., 500 Urbina, S., 16 Urdan, T. C., 58, 63, 297, 299, 300,310,311,312,364,466 Usai, M. C, 35 Utman, C. H., 364 Uttai, D. H., 95, 234 Vaillant, G. E., 423 Valans, H., 59 Valenzuela, A., 365, 367 Valiante, G., 94, 385 Vallacher, R. R., 535, 536 Vallerand, R. J., 304, 325, 327, 363, 585, 587, 593, 603 Van Allen, K., 395 Vancouver, J. B., 281, 528 Vandegeest, K., 179 Vandell, D. L., 421 Vandello, J. A., 543 van der Maas, H. L. J., 539 Van der Ploeg, H., 152 van der Woude, L. H., 651 Van de Vliert, E., 8 Van Ocker, J. C-, 135 VandeWalle, D., 63, 346 Van Yperen, N. W., 64, 324, 571 Varea, M. D., 145 Vasey, M. W., 153, 175 Vázou, S., 321 Vecsey, G., 516 Verbrugge, L. M., 651 Verhaeghen, P., 242 Verkuyten, M., 498 684 Author Index Vernon, P. E., 338 Veroff, J., 5, 7, 42, 45, 204, 384 Verschaffel, L., 515 Vezeau, C, 58, 385 Vida, M., 116 Vietor, N. A., 133 Vignoli, E., 146 Vinchur, A. J., 342 Vitíiro, F., 289 Voelkl, K., 383 Vohs, K. D., 190, 529, 554 Vondra, J. I., 422 von Rosenstiehl, L., 250 Voran, M., 425 Vroom, V. H., 533 Vygotsky, L. S., 207, 286, 287, 458, 604 Wachs, T. D., 424 Wachsmuth, J., 572 Wadden, T. A., 652 Wadsworch, M. E., 659 Wagner, B. M., 263 Wagner, P., 190 Wagner, R. K., 18, 24 Wahl, H. W., 248 Wainer, H. A., 45 Wald, J., 366 Waldman, D. A., 250 Waldrop, J. L., 289 Walker, B. W, 63 Walker, E. L., 33 Walker, K., 402 Walker, R., 648 Wall, S., 260 Wallace, L, 510 Wallace, S., 394 Waller, A., 561 Walling, M. D., 321 Walsh, M., 381 Walters, C, 203 Wan, W., 64, 124, 497, 499, 659 Wang, C. K., 64 Wang, J., 132, 319 Wang, Q., 268, 270, 271, 273, 494 Ward, C, 490 Ward, T. B., 499 Ward, W, 449 Warr, P., 350 Waschuli, S. B., 330 Washburn, B., 228 Waters, E., 260 Waters, M., 405 Waters, P. L., 231 Watson, C. M., 232 Watson, D., 168, 173, 604 Watson, J. B., 468 Weary, G. B., 552 Weaver, S. L., 649 Webb, R. B., 99, 306 Webb, T. L., 641 Weber, E. U., 635 Weber, M. J., 470, 606 Webster-Stratton, C, 422 Weeks, D., 614 Wegner, D. M., 535, 536, 626 Weil, M. M., 143 Weinberg, R. S., 318 Weinberg, R., 156 Weinberger, D. A., 289 Weinberger, J., 32 Weiner, B., 6, 59, 74, 76, 77, 78, 79, 80, 81, 82, 85, 90, 105, 126, 188, 191, 193,224,281, 305, 395, 396, 398, 406, 459, 464, 466, 517 Weinstein, C. E-, 515 Weinstein, R. S-, 306, 309, 312, 438, 439, 444 Weintraub, J. K., 659 Weir, C, 56, 602 Weiss, K., 425 Weiss, L., 272 Weiss, M. R., 187, 318 Weissbein, D. A., 346 Weissberg, R. R, 262 Weisz, J. R., 473, 478 Weitz, B., 58 Weizmann, E, 393 Welch, N., 635 Wellborn, J. G., 91, 109, 647 Wells, A., 148, 153, 154, 155, 156, 157, 158, 159, 160 Wendt, H. W., 45 Wenger, E., 460 Wentzel, K. R., 58, 83, 115, 116, 279, 281, 282, 283, 284, 286, 287, 288, 289, 290, 291, 292, 298,385 Wenz-Gross, M., 291 Wessels, K., 305 Wetherill, K. V., 586 Whalen, S-, 603 Whang, P. A., 476 Whang, S. M., 426 Wheeler, L., 384, 566, 567, 568, 569, 571, 572 Wheeler, S. C., 446 Whetstone-Dion, R., 81, 386 White, M., 477, 478 White, M. L, 462 White, M. J., 426, 427 White, P. H., 443 White, R., 297, 300, 301, 599, 602 White, R. H., 109, 114, 260 White, R. W., 5, 6, 7, 172, 440, 472, 580, 581, 582, 583, 593, 594 White, S. A., 57, 321 Whitebook, M., 425 Whitehead, J., 231, 319, 320, 321, 322, 323 Whitehurst, G. J., 423 Whiteman, M. C, 145, 160 Whitesell, N. R., 231 Whittebols, J. H., 425 Wicklund, R. A., 130, 473, 631, 637 Widaman, K. E, 291 Wíechmann, D., 64 Wiedl, K. H., 24 Wiener, N., 528 Wigfield, A., 90, 98, 105, 108, 109, 119,215, 222, 224, 225. 226, 227, 228, 234, 235, 259. 265, 302, 303, 318, 380, 407: 439 Wiggins, j. S., 423 Wilcox, S-, 648 Wild, T. C, 602 Wiley, N., 466, 468 Wilkinson, B., 311 Williams, C. J., 439 Williams, D., 394 Williams, G. C., 591 Williams, J., 451 Williams, K., 347, 387, 394 Williams, K. J., 443 Williams, K. R., 289 Williams, L. L., 175 Williams, L., 322 Williams, S., 422 Williams, W. M., 18, 24 Williamson, S., 367 Willie, C. V., 426 Willis, S. L., 8 Wills, T., 394, 567 Wilson, A. E., 498 Wilson, B., 305 Wilson, G. S., 156 Wilson, I. M., 263 Wilson, M., 417 Wilson, P., 147 Wilson, S. R., 472 Wilson, T. D., 31, 437, 452, 629 Wingenfeld, S., 24 Winne, P. H., 517 Winsier, A., 263 Winston, A. S., 610 Winteler, A., 172 Winter, D. G., 40, 47 Winterbottom, M. R., 41, 42, 265 Winterowd, C., 403 Witherspoon, K., 402 Witkiewitz, K., 543 Witkin, H., 195 Witkow, M., 408 Wober, M., 463 Author Index 685 Woike, B. A., 33 Wolfe, B., 417, 423 Wolfe, C. X, 272, 397, 550, 563 Wolfgang, E., 259 Wolfson, A., 191, 263 Wolters, C-, 63 Wong, M., 602, 604 Wong, R. Y., 498, 499 Wong, W, 8, 493 Wong, W-C, 248 Wood, D., 262 Wood, J., 567, 575 Wood, R. E., 123, 128, 132, 133, 346 Wood, S., 312 Wood, X, 115 Woodcock, A., 539 Woodman, X, 145, 147 Woody, E., 281 Woolcock, J., 490 Woolfolk, A. E., 99 Woolfolk, R. L., 143, 157 Word, C. O., 439 Worthington, V. L., 143 Wortman, C. B., 53, 55, 66, 532, 538, 542 Wosinska, W., 386 Wrenn, K. A., 132 Wright, J. D., 346, 380 Wright, R. A., 533, 538, 539 Wright, X L., 152 Wrightman, J., 272 Wrosch, C., 244, 246, 247, 248, 249, 527, 532, 534, 538 Wu, D. Y. H., 457 Wugalter, S., 143 Wurf, E., 229 Wyatt, G. E., 198, 393 Wyer, R. S., Jr., 625, 627 Wylie, R. C., 88 Wyllie, f. G., 469, 470, 471 Wynne, L. C, 37 Xie, H., 291 Xun, W. Q. E., 498 Yackel, E., 115 Yamaguchi, R., 461 Yan, W. E, 477 Yang, K., 493 Yates, B., 323 Ybarra, O., 552 Ybema, J. E, 571 Ye, J. P., 262 Ye, R., 170 Yee, A., 393 Yee, D. K., 378 Yee, J., 81 ■ Yeung, A. S., 230 Yeung, W. J., 415, 423, 424 Yin, Z., 320, 321 Yip, X, 268 Yoon, K. S., 265 Young, A. S., 380 Young, D. B., 512 Young, E. M., 228 Youngblade, L. M., 414 Youniss, j., 287, 292 Yu, A., 493 Yu, S., 63 Yukelson, D., 318 Zaccaro, S. j., 514 Zahn-Waxler, C., 190 Zajac, D. M., 63 Zajonc, R. B., 460, 618 Zanna, M. R, 439, 648 Zanobini, M., 35 Zax, M., 422 Zeeman, E. C., 539 Zeidner, M., 141, 142, 143, 145, 147, 148, 151, 152, 153, 155, 159 Zeitel, L., 425 Zhao, H., 415 Zhao, Y, 143 Zhou, H., 271 Zhou, M., 404, 405 Zigler, E., 425, 439 Zimbardo, P. G., 580 Zimmer-Gembeck, M. J., 224 Zimmerman, B. J.., 92, 94, 97, 152, 223, 225, 509, 510, 512, 513, 514, 515, 516, 517, 518, 519, 520, 521, 522, 650 Zimmerman, B., 93 Zimmerman, M., 94 Zohar, D., 146 Zuckerman, M., 56, 156, 157, 169, 384, 561, 566, 586 Subject Index "f" following a page number indicates a figure; "t" following a page number indicates a table. A Nation at Risk, 357 Abilities competence as, 46-48 development of, 15-17, 17/-20, 205-206 early research regarding, 54-55 g factor and, 20 interpersonal theory and, 78 perception of by teachers, 306 self-efficacy and, 93 self-regulation and, 131-132 in sports participation, 318-320 success and, 477-478 teachers and, 398-399 testing, 24-27, 27-28 work competence and, 337—339 Ability tests, 16, 24-27 Abstract thought during adolescence, 223 work competence and, 337-339 Academic achievement. See also Schooling autonomy support and, 264 effortful control and, 180 envy and, 81 ethnic identity and, 233-235, 400^102 family relationships and, 268 fantasies vs expectations and, 650 gender and, 118, 230-233 goals and, 116, 653-654 identity and, 229-230 motivation and, 19 outcome expectations and, 89 overview, 85-86 parenting and, 265-266, 270-271 peer networks and, 96 perceived cost and, 112-113 perceived determinants of, 477- 478 relationship of to self-efficacy, 92-95 self-concept and, 88-89 self-efficacy and, 97-100 self-theories and, 124-127 "small fish in a big pond effect" (SFBPE), 573-574 social competence and, 285—292 stereotypes regarding, 440-445, 441/ subjective task value theory and, 116 superstar argument and, 569- 571 test anxiety and, 142-143, 151- 152 testing, 16 Academic alienation, 58 Academic competence neighborhood socioeconomic status and, 420-421 socioeconomic status and, 419 Academic functioning. See also Academic achievement cyclical view of self-regulation in, 515f self-regulation and, 512-514 Academic motivation. See also Motivation overview, 85-86 social competence and, 285-292 Academic self-concept, 229-230 Acceptance. See also Peers social competence and, 281, 282-283, 285 of a stereotype, 448 Accomplishment creativity and, 620 locus causal properties and, 76 seif-efficacy and, 87 social competence and, 285-292 Accountability high stakes testing and, 368 school reform movements regarding, 357 Achievement. See also Academic achievement; Achievement goals; Achievement motivation constructs of, 474-475 old age and, 241-244 predicting, 475 self-concept and, 230 Achievement domain, 7 Achievement Goal Questionnaire, 328. See also Assessments Achievement goal theory, 385-386 Achievement goals. See also Achievement in the classroom, 298-300 gender and, 385-386 in sports participation, 318-320, 320-326 sports participation and, 318-320, 329-331 Achievement motivation. See also Achievement; Assessments; Motivation during adolescence, 224-226 competence and, 6-8 creativity and, 614-615 686 Subject Index 687 development of, 40—12 in early childhood, 205-207 emergence of the construct for, 53-56 gender and, 383-386, 388 implicit compared to self-attributed, 31-35, 34f measures of, 38-40 overview, 3—4, 19 peer networks and, 224 success and, 45-46 weaknesses of, 4-5, 8-9 work competence and, 339-340 Achievement Motivation Scale, 32. See also Assessments Achievement outcomes, 92-95 Achievement-related choices model, 105-109, 106/: See also Choices Achievement tests, 16 Acquisition of skills, 521-523 Action-phase model. See also Lifespan theory of control aspiration and, 248-249 of developmental regulation, 245/-246/ goal engagement and, 253 Actions, merging with awareness, 600-601 Active avoidance, 36r, 37-38. See also Avoidance motivation Adaptation discrimination and, 395 social cognitive theory and, 86 temperament and, 168 Adaptive inferences, 517 Adjustment, 197-199, 198/ Admiration, 82-83 Adolescence. See also Development, lifespan achievement motivation and, 224-226 changes during, 223-224 connectedness between parents and, 266 ethnic identity development and, 233-235 family obligation and, 268 gender identity and, 230-233 motivation during, 226-228 overview, 222-223 peer relationships and, 288 research regarding, 235-236 self-concept and identity formation during, 228 Adulthood, 611. See also Development, lifespan Affect. See also Emotion development of, 247 friendships and, 291 overview, 530-532 of parents, 266-269, 272-273 s e If-e valuation and, 215 sports participation and, 324-325 Affection, parenting and, 41-42 Affective goals, 115-116. See also Goals Affective-physiological facets, 146 Affiliation incentive, 47 African Americans. See also Ethnicity academic achievement and, 234-235 ethnic identity and, 401-403 motivation and, 392-393 self-concept and, 230 stereotypes and, 129-130, 396-400, 437-438, 440, 442-144 Agency, human culture and, 491-493 overview, 463-466 social cognitive theory and, 86 Aggression environment and, 289 gender differences and, 376 social competence and, 281 Aging. See also Old age aspiration and, 249 creativity and, 611 greatness and, 250-252, 251/ overview, 241-242 work competence and, 349-350 Aim, goal as, 65 American Dream ideology overview, 471 self-actualization and, 472 Analytical abilities, g factor and, 23 Anger. See also Emotion development of, 186-187 goal-seeking efforts and, 532 perceived competence and, 83 Antisocial behavior parental, 422 racial stereotypes and, 399^00 Anxiety. See also Evaluation anxiety overview, 141-142 personality and, 146 stereotype threat and, 444-445 uniformity myth and, 145-146 Approach goals. See also Goals during adolescence, 226 giving up and, 534 high stakes testing and, 364-365 sports participation and, 326-329, 326-329 Approach motivation. See also Motivation affect and, 532 in the classroom, 298-300 compared to avoidance motivation, 6, 52, 58-62 competence and, 7 development of, 171-174 early research regarding, 56 effortful control and, 180 fear and, 175 goal setting and, 655-657 overview, 35-38, 36t Approach-oriented motivational intensity, 340 Aptitude attribution theory and, 79-80 perceived competence and, 80- 82 Arousal discipline and, 269 evaluation anxiety and, 150i Arrogance, 81-82 Asian Americans. See also Ethnicity academic achievement and, 234- 235 cultural differences and, 492, 494-495 family obligation and, 268 gender and, 387 parenting and, 270-271 stereotypes and, 397-398 Aspiration expectancy-value theory and, 90-91 lifespan theory of control and, 248-249 resultant valence theory and, 3 social comparison theory and, 567-568 Assessments. See also High stakes testing of achievement motivation, 31- 32, 38-40 aim as a conceptualization and, 65 competence and, 16 effortful control and, 178-180 fear and, 175 high stakes testing and, 366 Home Observation for Measurement of the Environment (HOME), 423- 424 intelligence, 23 of interest motivation, 339-340 overview, 24-27 Peabody Picture Vocabulary Test (PPVT), 419 regarding personality and work competence, 341-342 self, 203-205, 207-211, 216-218 of self-efficacy and competence beliefs, 91-92 r^ 688 Subject Index Assessments (cont.) Self-Handicapping Scale (SHS), 557 Self-Regulation Learning Interview Schedule (SRLIS), 512-514 of sport achievement goals, 320- 323, 328 of temperament, 168-170 testing and, 354-356 Assessments, self. See also Assessments competence and, 207-211 development of, 216-218 research regarding, 210-211 self-evaluation and, 203-205 Assimilation, immigrant experience and, 403^105 Athletic ability, gender differences in, 380, 385 Athletic anxiety. See also Athletic competence; Evaluation anxiety overview, 144-145, 149-150 s elf-handicapping and, 156 trait and state anxiety and, 146 uniformity myth and, 145-146 Athletic competence. See also Athletic ability achievement goals in, 320-326 during adolescence, 225-226 adolescence and, 223 cyclical view of self-reguiation in, 514-517, 515/ envy and, 81 flow experiences and, 604 goal frameworks and, 326-329 meaning systems and, 132 motivation and, 318-320 self-efficacy and, 514 sports anxiety and, 144-145, 149-150 stereotype threat and, 444 Attachment between parents and children, 267 social competence and, 290-291 Attainment of competence, 509- 510 Attainment value. See also Subjective task values auto-motive theory and, 626- 628, 630 gender and cultural differences and, 117 overview, 109-111, 114-115, 119 utility value and, 112 Attention effortful control and, 178-180 event-related potentials, 130 focusing strategies and, 516 unconsciousness and, 625 Attention-focusing strategies, 516 Attention Network Test, 178 Attribution theory. See also Attributions in the classroom, 305-306 competence and, 79-83 of emotion, 191-192 overview, 74, 75/, 76-79, 77/ social contexts and, 584 Attributions. See also Attribution theory in the classroom, 305-306 cultural differences in, 497 defensive strategies and, 552 discounting and augmentation of, 559 to discrimination, 395-396 evaluative emotions and, 188-189 parenting and, 264 of preschoolers, 195-197/", 196/" self-consciousness and, 193-195 self-evaluative judgments and, 516-517 self-theories and, 125 shame and, 198/ social competence and, 290-291 success and, 477-478 Augmentation of competency attributions, 559 Auto-motive theory, 625-626, 626-633 Autonomy in the classroom, 303—305 cultural considerations regarding, 492 effectance motivation and, 583, 593-594 ego involvement and, 272 enhancing, 586 feedback and, 587 instructional practices and, 311- 312 internalization and, 588-592 as a psychological need, 260 support of by parents, 263-264 Avoidance. See also Avoidance goals; Avoidance motivation assessing, 175 coping skills and, 155 early research regarding, 53 evaluation anxiety and, 147, 154/-155 giving up and, 534 mastery and, 172 perceived cost and, 113 self-regulation and, 156-157 Avoidance goals. See also Avoidance during adolescence, 226 giving up and, 534 high stakes testing and, 364-365 instructional practices and, 311 research regarding, 58 sports participation and, 326— 329 Avoidance motivation. See also Avoidance; Motivation in the classroom, 298-300 compared to approach motivation, 6, 52, 58-62 competence and, 7 cultural considerations regarding, 492 early research regarding, 56 evaluation anxiety and, 150r gender and, 384-385 goal setting and, 655—657 measures of, 38-40 overview, 35-38, 36r parenting and, 42 Awareness, merging with actions, 600-601 Awareness of racism, 234. See also Ethnicity Balance theory, 81 Behavior. See also Defensive strategies; Self-regulation adolescence and, 223 beliefs and, 86 creativity and, 610-611 cultural considerations regarding, 493-494 in early childhood, 205-207 emotions and, 186 evaluation anxiety and, 146, 147, 188-189 expectancy—value theory and, 90-91 friendships and, 291 goals and, 528-529 high stakes testing and, 358-360 implicit motives and, 33-34 neighborhood socioeconomic status and, 421 of parents, 261-265, 272-273 perceived control and, 91 self-determination theory and, 114 self-efficacy and, 87 socioeconomic status and, 418, 419^20 sports participation and, 324 work competence and, 337 Behavioral Activation System (BAS), 175. See also Assessments Behavioral Approach System fear of failure and, 38 overview, 37 Subject Index 689 Behavioral inhibition. See also Behavioral Inhibition System (BIS) creativity and, 612-613 effortful control and, 178-180 fear and, 37, 174-177 Behavioral Inhibition System (BIS). See also Assessments; Inhibition; Temperament fear of success and, 37 overview, 169 parent report version of, 175 Behaviorist perspective, 358-360 Beliefs. See also Competence beliefs; Expectations; Self-theories during adolescence, 223, 225, 227-228 assessing, 91-92 attainment value and, 109-110 in the classroom, 305-306 compared to fantasies, 648-649 cultural differences in, 496-497 evaluation anxiety and, 150i in expectancy-value theory, 90-91 gender and, 94-95, 231-233, 376-383, 387-388 overview, 136-137 regarding effort, 125 regarding self-regulation, 510 self-efficacy and, 86, 87 self-motivational, 514-517, 515/, 517-519 of teachers, 306 Beneffectance, 552. See also Attributions; Defensive strategies Biases, evaluation anxiety and, 153 Blushing, 187. See also Self-consciousness Cake format of assessment, 25-26. See also Assessments Calvinism, 470 Career paths, of high-achievement people, 46 Catastrophe theory, 539/-543, 540/", 541/ Causal attributions, 516—517. See also Attributions Causal effects interpersonal theory and, 77/—78 intrapersonal theory and, 74, 75/, 76 motives and, 46 social contexts and, 584 Challenges avoidance of, 449 flow experiences and, 601-602 instructional practices and, 310- 311 motivation and, 363 Child care, 425 Childhood. See also Development, lifespan competence motivation during, 7 development of self-evaluation in, 203-207, 212-216, 216- 218 perceived competence during, 207-211 Children. See also Development, lifespan characteristics of, 272-273 influence of on parenting, 269- 272 neighborhood socioeconomic status and, 420-421 peer relationships and, 279 psychological needs of, 260-261 role or parents and, 261-269 socioeconomic status and, 418- 420, 422-426 Children's Behavior Questionnaire (CBQ). See also Assessments; Temperament measurement of emotional reactivity with, 171-177 overview, 170 Choices achievement-related, 105-109, 106/ cultural considerations regarding, 478^179, 492 gender and cultural differences and, 116-118 group differences in, 119 self-efficacy and, 87 Classroom. See also Instructional practices; Schooling competence motivation in, 297- 298, 306-307, 308ŕ-309ŕ, 310-312, 312-314 gender identity and, 232 high stakes testing and, 365-367 motivational research and, 298- 306 social competence and, 281, 286 socialization and, 379 Closeness between parents and children, 267 Coercion, 298 Cognitive functioning during adolescence, 223, 226- 227 evaluation anxiety and, 146, 147, 150r-157, 154/ old age and, 242 parental, 265-266, 269, 272- 273 socioeconomic status and, 419, 420^121 unconsciousness and, 625-626 as a variable in measuring SES, 417 work competence and, 338-339 Cognitive load, 445-446 Cognitive psychology, 98 Cognitive self-evaluation model, 144 Collective efficacy cultural considerations regarding, 492 socioeconomic status and, 425-426 Collectivism, 496 Commitment to goals, 641. See also Goals Communication arrogance and modesty and, 81- 82 gender differences in, 379 Comparative evaluation, 571-572. See also Social comparison Compensatory primary control strategies, 244. See also Lifespan theory of control Compensatory secondary control strategies, 244. See also Lifespan theory of control Competence attainment value and, 109-110 autonomy and, 263 in the classroom, 303-305 defining, 336-337, 458^59 discrimination and, 394-395 effectance motivation and, 581- 583 focusing on, 3 fragility of, 436-438 goal setting and, 93 identity and, 229-230 during old age, 240-241 overview, 42-48, 479-480, 543- 544 performance and, 475-476 responsibility and control and, 472-473 sense of, 260 Competence beliefs. See also Beliefs during adolescence, 225-226, 227-228 gender and, 231-233, 376-383, 387-388 Competence motivation. See also Motivation in achievement motivation literature, 6-8 in the classroom, 297-298, 306-307, 308í-309ŕ, 310-312, 312-314 development of, 172-174 flow experiences and, 602-603 lifespan development and, 7-8 690 Subject Index Competence motivation (cont.) mastery motivation and, 174- 177 overview, 581-583, 593-594 Competence perception acquisition of, 209 attainment value and, 109-110 in early childhood, 208-210 expectancy-value theory and, 90-91 interpersonal motivation and, 77/-78 mastery-avoidance goals and, 61 overview, 73, 548-549 parenting and, 270 by parents, 265-266, 269 self-regulation and, 156 social and emotional consequences of, 80-83 social comparison and, 571-572 sports participation and, 324, 327 views of, 88-92 Competence-relevant outcomes, 604 Competence valuation, 591-592 Competitiveness, 110 Computer anxiety. See also Evaluation anxiety overview, 143, 148-149 trait and state anxiety and, 146 uniformity myth and, 145-146 Computer skills, 132 Conceptual history. See History of competence-relevant motivation Conduct disorder, 422 Confidence academic achievement and, 92-94 during adolescence, 225 catastrophe theory and, 541/- 542 ego involvement and, 362 evaluation anxiety and, 147 forethought and, 515-516 goal setting and, 93 outcome expectations and, 89 stereotype threat and, 382-383 work competence and, 337-339, 342-343 Confucianism, 470 Connectedness. See also Ethnicity overview, 234 between parents and children, 266-269 as a psychological need, 260-261 Connectionism, 358-359 Consciousness auto-motive theory and, 629-632 evolution of, 605 flow experiences and, 600-601 Consciousness, stigma, 448 Contempt, 80 Control. See also Lifespan theory of control American Dream ideology and, 471 attribution theory and, 191 cultural considerations regarding, 478^79 effortful, 177-180 ego involvement and, 272 flow experiences and, 601 implementation intentions and, 638-639, 641-642 instructional practices and, 311- 312 need of, 599 by parents, 263-264 perception of, 91 responsibility and, 470-471 Control beliefs, 305-306 Controllability causai property. See also Causal effects attribution theory and, 79 overview, 76 Cooperation, 450-451 Coping skills evaluation anxiety and, 155-156 levels of skill acquisition and, 522-523 mental contrasting and, 658-662 perseverance and, 533 task involvement and, 325 Cortisol, 188 Creativity culturocentrism and, 499-500 domains of performance and, 615-616 extrinsic rewards and, 610-611 intrinsic motivation for, 612-615 overview, 609-610, 619-620 personal, 618 personal standards and, 612 product vs process and, 616-618 psychological needs and, 618-619 Criticism attributions and, 194 person-oriented, 264 Cultural competence components of, 491-500 overview, 489-491 psychic unity and, 500-501 Cultural considerations comparative examples, 474-480 competence motivation and, 8 discrimination and, 393-396 future research regarding, 406- 409 g factor and, 21-22 gender and, 386-387, 388 immigrant experience and, 404— 405 metaphor of mind and, 464-466 multicultural experiences and, 500 need satisfaction and, 593 overview, 481-482 parenting and, 270-271 Preschool in Three Cultures, 452-453 social comparison and, 575-576 sociocultural historical models and, 458-460 stereotypes and, 129-130 subjective task value theory and, 116-118 testing and, 26-27, 28 Cultural inversion, 401-402 Cultural sensitivity, 491-498 Culture, evolution of, 605-606 Culturocentrism, 499-500 Curiosity, 300-301 Cusp catastrophe, 539/-543, 540/", 541/" Cyberphobia. See Computer anxiety Daydreams. See Fantasies about competencies Debilitating anxiety, 147-150 Declarative knowledge. See also Knowledge overview, 18-20 self-attributed motives and, 34/-35 Defensive inferences, 517 Defensive pessimism, 156 Defensive strategies overview, 549 self-regulation and, 550-554, 551f styles o£, 554-563, 555/ Definition of achievement, 4 Definition of competence overview, 5 self-theories and, 127-128 Dejection, 532 Depression goal-seeking efforts and, 532 maternal, 422 peer relationships and, 290 Desiring competence, 122-123. See also Self-theories Determination, 471 Development, lifespan. See also Adolescence; Childhood; Children attributions and, 195-197/; 196/ child's psychological needs and, 260-261 competence and, 7-8, 207-211 Subject Index 691 early, 202 effectance motivation and, 581- 583, 593-594 effortful control and, 177-180 emotions and, 185-189, 186/ ethnic identity development and, 233 gender differences and, 376 implicit achievement motivation and, 40-42 intelligence and, 338 lifespan theory of control and, 244-249, 245/", 246/ old age and, 240-241, 252-253 psychoanalytic approach and, 580-581 psychological, 472 research regarding, 210-211 self-efficacy and, 95-97, 98 self-evaluation and, 203-207, 212-216, 216-218 socialization and, 135-136 socioeconomic status and, 422- 426 temperament and, 167, 169- 170, 170-171 work competence and, 343-345/, 344/ Development of competence gender differences in, 379-381 overview, 15-17, 17/-20 temperament and, 170-171 Developmental regulation action-phase model of, 245/- 246/ lifespan theory of control and, 246-248 Differential hypothesis, 142. See also Interactional model of stress and anxiety Difficulty, task, 191 Disability high stakes testing and, 355-356 in old age, 252-253 Discipline, 269. See also Parenting Discounting of competency attributions, 559 Discrepancies defensive strategies and, 554 feedback and, 529-530/, 530- 532 mental contrasting and, 652-655 Discrepancy-enlarging feedback loop. See also Feedback loop affect and, 530-532 overview, 529-530/ Discrepancy-reducing feedback loop. See also Feedback loop affect and, 530-532 overview, 529-530/ Discrimination future research regarding, 406— 409 overview, 406 reactions to, 393-396 Disengagement catastrophe theory and, 539f- 543, 540/, 541/ continuum of, 538-543 control process involved in, 244-245 greatness and, 252 hierarchy of goals and, 536-538, 537/ lifespan theory of control and, 246-248 overview, 527-528, 543-544 Disidentification, 449-450 Dislike, 82-83 Dispositional goal preferences, 55 Distal motives, 555-558. See also Defensive strategies Dopamine system, 37-38 Drive-based approaches empirical approach and, 579- 580 overview, 579 Drives effectance motivation and, 581- 582 in the empirical approach, 579- 580 overview, 472, 593, 598 Dropping out of school. See also Schooling high stakes testing and, 366, 368 in Texas, 367 Dynamic assessment, 24-27. See also Assessments Ecological perspectives, 291 Economic conditions, 415-417, 416/. See also Socioeconomic status Education. See also Schooling creativity and, 612 poverty and, 420 as a variable in measuring SES, 417 Educational reform high stakes testing and, 354- 356,356-358 implications of, 368-369 during middle school, 228 motivation theories and, 367-368 Effectance motivation in achievement motivation literature, 6-8 in the classroom, 306-307, 308ŕ-309ŕ, 310-312, 312-314 development of, 172-174 distinguishing from other classroom approaches to motivation, 297-298 flow experiences and, 602—603 lifespan developmenr and, 7-8 mastery motivation and, 174- 177 overview, 581-583, 593-594 Effectiveness, 42-45 Efficacy, self. See Self-efficacy Efficiency, 43 Effort expenditure affect and, 532 attribution theory and, 79-80 early research regarding, 54 giving up and, 532-534 self-efficacy and, 98 self-theories and, 125, 134-136 stereotype threat and, 445 success and, 477-478 Effortful control, 177-180 Ego-approach goal, 326-329 Ego involvement overview, 54 parental, 272 performance standards and, 362-363 self-determination theory and, 115-116 in sport achievement goals, 322-323, 325-326 Ego orientation, 324-325, 329- 331 Ego-related anxiety, 175-177 Embarrassment. See also Emotion; Self-consciousness development of, 187 instructional practices and, 307, 310 social anxiety and, 144 Embedded achievement, 234. See also Ethnicity Emergent motivation, 603-604 Emotion. See also Affect attribution models of, 191-192 competence motivation and, 8 coping skills and, 155 development of, 185-189, 186/ evaluation anxiety and, 147 need satisfaction and, 592-593 perceived competence and, 80- 83 self-efficacy and, 87 self-theories and, 137 of teachers, 306 Emotional states, 88 Emotional support, 290 Empathy effortful control and, 179 self-consciousness and, 188 692 Subject Index Empirical approach explaining play within, 581 overview, 579-580 Employment, 417, 418. See also Socioeconomic status; Work competence Emulation level of self-regulation, 520 Engagement catastrophe theory and, 539/- 543, 540/; 541/ continuum of, 538-543 control process involved in, 244-245 giving up and, 534-535 hierarchy of goals and, 536-538, 53 If lifespan theory of control and, 246-248 overview, 527-528, 543-544 parental structure and, 262-263 peer networks and, 96 self-determination theory and, 114 Enjoyment, 614 Enlarging theories, 313 Entity theory regarding intelligence. See also Intelligence defining competence within, 127-128 meaning systems and, 124-127, 136 overview, 19, 136-137 repairing self-esteem and, 131 self-handicapping and, 556-558 self-theories and, 123-124 skills across domains and, 132- 134 socialization and, 134-136 Environment academic achievement and, 96 agency and, 466 autonomy support and, 263 classroom, 232, 281, 286 competence beliefs and, 381 history of views regarding, 468- 469 of the home, 423 hypervigilance theory and, 153 influence over, 260 mastery and, 599 need for competence and, 582 peer relationships and, 289 self-efficacy and, 95 self-evaluation and, 218 social competence and, 280-281 socioeconomic status and, 424- 426, 427 in sport achievement goals, 327 stereotypes and, 129-130 stress and anxiety from, 141 temperament and, 168 transitions and, 208-209 Environmental structuring, 511 Envy, 80-81 Essentialism, 466-468 Ethnic identity. See also Cultural considerations; Ethnicity; Identity development of, 233—235 future research regarding, 406- 409 immigrant experience and, 403- 405 race and, 400-403, 406 research regarding, 236 Ethnicity. See also Cultural considerations; Race discrimination and, 393-396 family obligation and, 268 future research regarding, 406- 409 gender and, 232-233, 386-387, 388 motivation and, 392-393 neighborhood socioeconomic status and, 421 overview, 405-406 self-concept and, 230 socioeconomic status and, 427 temperament and, 467-^168 Evaluating competence, 5-6 Evaluation anxiety. See also Evaluation, comparative; Evaluative emotions; Performance competence and, 147-150 components o£, 146-147 conceptualizations of, 142-146 integrative theory of, 157-158 overview, 141-142, 158r-160 theoretical perspectives, 150r- 157, 154/" Evaluation, comparative. See also Evaluation anxiety; Social comparison creativity and, 613 perceived competence and, 571- 572 Evaluative embarrassment, 187- 188, 193. See also Embarrassment Evaluative emotions. See also Emotion; Evaluation anxiety adjustment and, 197-199, 19$f individual differences in, 192- 195 of preschoolers, 195-197/", 196/ self-consciousness and, 188-189 structural model of, 189/-191 Event-related potentials, 130 Evolutionary development flow experiences and, 605-606 motivation and, 598-599 Executive attention, 178-180 Executive functioning, 154/-155 Expectancy—value theory. See also Subjective task values; Values achievement choices and, 106/"- 109 beliefs in, 90-91 in the classroom, 302-303 gender and, 116-118, 376-377, 378 giving up and, 533 overview, 119 Expectations. See also Beliefs approach-avoidance distinction and, 60 defensive pessimism and, 561- 562 expectancy—value theory and, 90-91 fantasies about competencies and, 648-649 mental contrasting and, 657-658 merging with fantasies, 652-655 overview, 76, 662 perceived competence and, 265- 266 self-efficacy and, 89-90 social competence and, 288-289 stereotypes and, 382-383, 398- 399, 445 of teachers, 306 vs fantasies, 649-652 Experiences. See also Flow experience emergent motivation and, 603- 604 multicultural, 500 pragmatism and, 471-472 self-efficacy and, 87, 302 Expertise development of, 15-17, 17/-20 g factor and, 20-24 goal setting and, 93 regulation of motivational investment and, 250-252, 251/ self-regulation and, 518 testing, 24-27 work competence and, 338-339 Explicit consciousness, 187. See also Self-consciousness Explicit motives. See Self-attributed motives Exploratory play effectance motivation and, 581— 583 in the empirical approach, 580 Subject Index 693 explaining, 581 mastery motivation and, 173 Exposure embarrassment, 187. See also Embarrassment Exposure emotions, 187-188. See also Emotion Expressive mastery motivation, 172. See also Mastery External attributions. See also Attributions discrimination and, 395 self-consciousness and, 193-195 External motivation, 360-362 External regulation, 114, 176, 589. See also Behavior; Self-regulation Externalizing culture, 495-496. See also Cultural considerations Extracurricular activities, 423 Extraversion. See also Temperament development of, 171-174 theoretical perspectives of, 168-169 Extrinsic goals, 58 Extrinsic motivation family obligation and, 268 high stakes testing and, 364- 365 internalization and, 588-592 performance standards and, 362-363 social contexts and, 584 subjective task value theory and, 113-115 utility value and, 112 Extrinsic rewards. See also Rewards creativity and, 610-611, 613 effects of, 584-588 intrinsic motivation and, 112 Facilitating anxiety, 147-150 Failure. See also Fear of failure anger and, 83 attribution of, 76, 78, 194 disidentification and, 449-450 in early childhood, 205-206 early research regarding, 53 evaluative emotions and, 189/- 191 perceived cost and, 113 repairing self-esteem following, 130-131 self-consciousness and, 193 self-esteem and, 128-129 self-evaluation and, 213 teachers and, 398-399 test anxiety and, 145-146 Family, 475 Family functioning. See also Parenting immigrant experience and, 404 social competence and, 290-291 socioeconomic status and, 418- 420, 422^(24 Family stress model, 422 Family structure, 417-418 Fantasies about competencies compared to expectations, 648- 649 merging with expectations, 652- 655 overview, 647-648, 662 vs expectations, 649-652 Fear. See also Emotion; Fear of failure; Fear of success approach and, 172 development of, 186-187 mastery motivation and, 174-177 temperament and, 169 Fear of failure. See also Approach motivation; Avoidance motivation; Failure; Fear assessing, 39-40 effect on behavior, 43-44 parenting and, 42 perceived cost and, 113 performance and, 475^76 punishment and, 38 sports participation and, 328 Fear of success assessing, 39 passive avoidance and, 37 Feedback. See also Feedback loop flow experiences and, 602 implementation intentions and, 639 intrinsic motivation and, 587 responding to, 657-658 as a verbal reward, 585 Feedback loop. See also Feedback affect and, 530-532 hierarchy of, 535/-538, 537/ overview, 528/-530/" Feelings friendships and, 291 lifespan theory of control and, 247 overview, 530-532 of parents, 266-269, 272-273 self-determination theory and, 115-116 seif-evaluation and, 215 sports participation and, 324- 325 Five-factor model, 341-342. See also Personality Fixed-entity theory. See Entity theory regarding intelligence Flexibility creativity and, 617 cultural knowledge and, 498- 499 motivational competence and, 48 self-attributed motives and, 33 Flow experience competence-relevant outcomes and, 604 conditions of, 601-602 creativity and, 614 evolution and, 605-606 motivation and, 602-604 nature of, 600-601 overview, 606 Fluency, 617 Flynn effect, 20 Forethought phase of self-regulation, 514-516, 515/; 518-519. See also Self-regulation Forewarning effect, 451 Frequency principle, 360 Friendship. See also. Peer relationships overview, 291 social competence and, 283-284 Frustration, 532 Functioning. See also Social cognitive theory environment and, 289 evaluation anxiety and, 154/-155 lifespan theory of control and, 248-249 peer relationships and, 279 self-determination theory and, 361 self-regulation and, 156-157 Functions of implicit motives, 33. See also Implicit motives g factor, 20-24 Gender. See also Gender differences achievement motivation and, 383-386 competence beliefs and, 376-383 culture and ethnicity and, 386- 387 identity, 230-233, 236 overview, 387-388 as a person variable vs as a stimulus variable, 376 social class and, 406-407 Gender differences. See also Gender during adolescence, 231-233 attributions and, 194-195 developmental approach to, 376 interest value and, 172 694 Subject Index Gender differences (cont.) intervention and, 136 intrinsic motivation and, 587 overview, 375-376, 387-388 parenting and, 266, 271 in rejection sensitivity, 562 self-efficacy and, 94-95 shame and, 199 stereotypes and, 129-130 subjective task value theory and, 116-118 Gender identity. See also Gender adolescence and, 230-233 research regarding, 236 Gender segregation effect, 378-379 Giving up. See also Perseverance avoidance and, 534 effort and, 532-534 hierarchy of goals and, 535/- 538, 537/ reactance and helplessness and, 538-539 Global attributions, 189. See also Attributions Global self-esteem, 548-549. See also Self-esteem Goal disengagement, 244-245 Goal engagement action-phase model and, 253 control process involved in, 244-245 Goal orientation. See also Goals during adolescence, 225-226 cyclical view of self-regulation and, 516 engagement vs disengagement, 527-528 sport achievement goals and, 323-326 Goal pursuit. See also Goals auto-motive theory of, 626-633 implementation intentions and, 633-642 overview, 624 unconsciousness and, 624-626, 642-643 Goal setting. See also Goals approach vs avoidance, 655-657 levels of skill acquisition and, 522-523 mental contrasting and, 652-655 regarding stress, 658-662 self-efficacy and, 93 Goal states, 33. See also Goals Goal theories, 115-116. See also Goals Goals. See also Goal orientation; Goal pursuit; Goal setting; Goal states; Goal theories during adolescence, 226 affect and, 532 agency and, 465-466 aim as a conceptualization for, 65 aspiration and, 248-249 attainment value and, 110 in the classroom, 298-300 development of, 217 early research regarding, 53 fear and, 187 feedback loops and, 528/-530/ giving up and, 532-535 hierarchy of, 535/-538, 537/ intrapersonal theory of, 74, 75/", 76-79, 77/ lifespan theory of control and, 245-248 peer relationships and, 287-288 regulation of motivational investment and, 151/, 249-253 self-determination theory and, 115-116 self-efficacy and, 87 self-regulation and, 131-132, 510 self-theories and, 134, 134-135 social competence and, 281, 285 in sports participation, 318-320 sports participation and, 514 Grades, 449. See also Schooling Greatness, 250-252, 251/ Grief, 532 Group identification, 447—448 Groups choices and, 119 efficacy of, 86 self-theories and, 133 Guilt. See also Evaluative emotions effortful control and, 179 structural model of, 189/-191 Health avoidance motivation and, 7 goal setting and, 654-655 Heisenberg Uncertainty Principle, 369 Help seeking, 511 Helplessness early research regarding, 53 integration with reactance, 538-539 Hierarchy of goals, 535/-538, 537/! See also Goals High achievement gender identity and, 231 goal attainment and, 630 parenting and, 270 self-regulation and, 512-514 High stakes testing. See also Assessments; Testing history of, 356-358 implications of, 368-369 motivation theories and, 367- 368 No Child Left Behind and, 358 overview, 354—356 results of, 365-367 theoretical perspectives, 358-365 History of competence-relevant motivation emergence of achievement goal construct, 53-56 gender and, 383-384 overview, 52-53, 466-473 since the mid- to late 1980s, 56-58 Home Observation for Measurement of the Environment (HOME), 423-424. See also Assessments Honesty, 81-82 Hope of success. See also Success achievement motivation and, 35-38, 36i assessing, 38-40 fear of failure and, 43-44 Hostile Press measure, 39-40. See also Assessments Hubris, 189/r-191. See also Evaluative emotions Human capital. See also Socioeconomic status parental investment as, 422-424 as a variable in measuring SES, 417, 418 Hypervigiiance theory, 153 Hysteresis, 539/-543, 540/, 541/. See also Catastrophe theory Ideation, 617 Identified regulation processes, 114, 176, 589. See also Behavior; Self-regulation Identity academic competence and motivation, 229-230 during adolescence, 228 attainment value and, 110 culture and, 491 ethnicity and, 233-235 gender and, 230-233 immigrant experience and, 404- 405 research regarding, 236 Identity achievement, 228 Identity diffusion, 228 Identity foreclosure, 228 Identity moratorium, 228 Ideomotor effects, 446 Illness, in old age, 252-253. See also Health Illusory optimism, 651-652 Imagery, 510 Subject Index 695 Immigrant experience, 403-405, 406 Implementation intentions goal pursuit and, 633-642 overview, 642-643 Implicit motives. See also Motivation approach and avoidance motivation as, 35-38, 36r compared to self-attributed motives, 31-35, 34/ development of, 40-42 feedback and, 45 Incentive attainment, 33 Incremental theory regarding intelligence. See also Intelligence defining competence within, 127-128 meaning systems and, 124-127, 136 overview, 19, 136-137 repairing self-esteem and, 131 self-handicapping and, 556-55S self-theories and, 123-124 skills across domains and, 132- 134 socialization and, 134-136 stereotypes and, 129-130 Independence adolescence and, 224 parenting and, 42 self-reliance and, 469^-70 individual differences perspectives need for competence and, 582 shyness and, 144 Individual interest. See also Interest value agency and, 465 in the classroom, 300-301 construct of achievement and, 474-475 cultural considerations regarding, 478^*79 independence and, 469-470 intrinsic task value and, 111 Individualism, 496 Inferiority, feelings of, 80-81 Informal knowledge, 21. See also Knowledge Information processing during adolescence, 223 evaluation anxiety and, 152-153 metaphor of mind and, 461 social competence and, 281 Inhibition. See also Behavioral Inhibition System (BIS) creativity and, 612-613 effortful control and, 178-180 fear and, 37, 174-177 Innate faculties, 466-468 Instincts, 580-581 Instructional practices. See also Classroom; Teachers during adolescence, 227-228 enhancing competence motivation via, 306-307, 308f-309r, 310-312 high stakes testing and, 365-367 motivational research and, 298- 306, 312-314 overview, 604 Instrumental mastery motivation, 172. See also Mastery Integration, 589-590 Integrative approach to research evaluation anxiety and, 157-158 since the mid- to late 1980s, 56-58 Intelligence. See also Entity theory regarding intelligence; Incremental theory regarding intelligence cultural differences in beliefs regarding, 496-497 development of, 17/-20 fragility of, 436-438 g factor of, 20-24 gender identity and, 231 knowledge acquisition and, 460- 463 meaning systems and, 124-127, 136 neighborhood socioeconomic status and, 421 old age and, 241-244 overview, 27-28 perceived competence and, 549 perceived determinants of, 477 PPIK theory, 344-345/ racial stereotypes regarding, 396-398 self-theories and, 123-124 socialization and, 134-136 stereotypes regarding, 396-397, 440^50, 441/ testing and, 15-17/, 24-27, 27- 28, 123-124, 467-468 theories of, 461 as a variable in measuring SES, 417 work competence and, 337-339, 343-344 Intelligence tests. See also Assessments; Intelligence; Testing competence and, 15-17/ incremental theory and, 123- 124 overview, 24-27, 27-28 Intensity, motivational, 340 Intentional behavior. See also Behavior creativity and, 618 goal pursuit and, 633-642 overview, 528 Interactional model of stress and anxiety, 141-142 Interest, 588 Interest motivation in the classroom, 300-301 instructional practices and, 311 work competence and, 339-340 Interest state, 186-187 Interest value. See also Subjective task values in the classroom, 300-301 development of, 172 overview, 111-112, 114, 119 sport achievement goals and, 322-323 Internal attributions, 193-195. See also Attributions Internalization of motivation, 588-592 overview, 176 Interpersonal contexts, 590-592 Interpersonal strategies, 553-554 Interpersonal theory of motivation compared to an intrapersonal theory, 74, 78-79 intelligence and, 461-462 overview, 77/^-78 Intervention meaning systems and, 136 research regarding, 313 social comparison and, 575-576 stereotypes and, 450-453 Intrapersonal strategies, 551-552 Intrapersonal theory of motivation compared to interpersonal theory of motivation, 78-79 overview, 74, 75/, 76-77 Intrinsic interest, 516 Intrinsic motivation. See also Motivation during adolescence, 225-226, 226-228 in the classroom, 300-301 coercion and, 298 compared to intrinsic value, 112 creativity and, 612-615 cultural considerations regarding, 478-479, 492 effectance motivation and, 582 ego involvement and, 272 empirical approach to, 579-580 enhancing, 586 extrinsic rewards and, 584-588 family obligation and, 268 high stakes testing and, 364-365 internalization and, 588-592 w 696 Subject Index Intrinsic motivation (cont.j learning and, 360-362 overview, 579, 593-594 psychological needs and, 583-584 responsibility and control and, 473 social contexts and, 584 socialization and, 135 subjective task value theory and, 113-115 task involvement as, 54 Intrinsic value, 111-112, 114, 119. See also Subjective task values introjected regulation processes, 114, 176, 589. See also Behavior; Self-regulation Introversion, 168-169. See also Temperament Investments in competencies, 611 Involvement, of parents, 261-262, 269, 272-273. See also Parenting Irritation, 532 Joy, 186-187. See also Emotion Kibbutz children research regarding, 209, 211 self-evaluation and, 212 Knowledge acquisition of, 207-211, 460^63 creativity and, 617—618 cultural considerations regarding, 494 culture as, 490-491 ego involvement and, 362 g factor and, 21 overview, 18-20 PPIK theory, 344-345/ predicting performance and, 568-569 self-attributed motives and, 33 social interactions and, 498 work competence and, 337-339, 350 Language arts competence beliefs during adolescence, 225, 225—226 gender differences in, 380, 385 parenting and, 265-266 Latino Americans. See also Ethnicity ethnic identity and, 403 family obligation and, 268 stereotypes and, 396, 440, 443 Law of effect, 358-359 Learning. See also Learning goals agency and, 466 attribution theory and, 79 attributions and, 194 beliefs regarding, 127-128 creativity and, 617-618 cyclical view of, 514-517, 515/ defensive strategies and, 554- 563, 555/ flow experiences and, 604 high stakes testing and, 363-365 individual interest and, 112 knowledge acquisition and, 462- 463 levels of skill acquisition and, 521-523 organismic perspective of, 360- 362 potential for, 26-27 psychological needs and, 260- 261 self-consciousness and, 193 self-efficacy and, 92-93, 513 self-regulation and, 510, 520- 521 self-theories and, 130-132 shyness and, 144 socialization and, 134-135 Learning goals. See also Goals; Learning cyclical view of self-regulation and, 516 in early childhood, 213 early research regarding, 53 Learning skills early research regarding, 54 overview, 18 Legislation. See also High stakes testing implications of, 368-369 motivation theories and, 367- 368 No Child Left Behind, 358 overview, 354-356 Level of aspiration, 567-568. See also Aspiration Life satisfaction, 7 Lifespan theory of control overview, 244-249, 245/, 246/ regulation of motivational investment and, 249-253, 251/ Lifespan theory of development. See Development, lifespan Lines-of-defense model, 253 Locus causal property, 76. See also Causal effects Logic, 208 Loss goal-seeking efforts and, 532 lifespan theory of control and, 248-249 Low achievement gender identity and, 231 goal attainment and, 630 parenting and, 270 self-regulation and, 512-514 Maltreatment, 199 Mastery. See also Mastery goals; Mastery motivation achievement motivation and, 38 approach-avoidance distinction and, 60-61, 64 attainment value and, 109-110 development of, 172-174 early research regarding, 53 gender and, 385-386 instructional practices and, 310 overview, 598-600 research regarding, 57-58 self-efficacy and, 87, 98 self-evaluation and, 218 self-regulation and, 520-521 self-theories and, 125 terminology of, 65 Mastery-approach goals, 61, 64 Mastery-avoidance goals, 226. See also Goals Mastery goals. See also Mastery in the classroom, 298-300 high stakes testing and, 363-365 parenting and, 264-265 schooling and, 227 sports participation and, 326-329 Mastery motivation. See also Mastery development of, 172-174 fear and, 174-177 Math ability gender and, 376, 377, 380, 385-386 socioeconomic status and, 419 Math anxiety. See also Evaluation anxiety avoidance and, 157 overview, 143, 148-149 trait and state anxiety and, 146 uniformity myth and, 145-146 Math competence beliefs during adolescence, 225, 225-226 gender identity and, 232 overview, 230 parenting and, 265-266 Meaning systems across domains, 132-134 altering, 136 cultural differences in, 491^94, 497-498 ethnic identity and, 400 implications of, 128-132 overview, 136-137 self-theories and, 122-123, Í24-127 socialization of, 134-136 Measures, goal, 65. See also Assessments Media, 575-576 Subject Index 697 Mehrabian Achievement Risk Preference Scale, 32. See also Assessments Memory defensive strategies and, 552 mastery-avoidance goals and, 61 test anxiety and, 153 Mental contrasting goal striving and, 657-658 goals regarding stress and, 658- 662 overview, 652-657, 662 Metacognitive skills evaluation anxiety and, 150r, 155-156 mental contrasting and, 660-661 moderating effect of, 156 overview, 18 Metaphors of mind agency and, 464 knowledge acquisition and, 460- 463 sociocultural historical models and, 459-460 Microaggression, 394. See also Discrimination Middle school, 228. See also Schooling Mind, metaphors of agency and, 464 knowledge acquisition and, 460- 463 sociocultural historical models and, 459-460 Minority groups. See also Cultural considerations cultural considerations regarding, 480 ethnic identity development and, 233-234 future research regarding, 408- 409 immigrant experience and, 405 stereotypes and, 439-440 Modeling gender and, 377 levels of skill acquisition and, 521-523 self-efficacy and, 93 Modesty, 81-82 Mortality, 395 Motivation. See also Academic motivation during adolescence, 222, 226- 228 agency and, 463-466 approach and avoidance, 6, 7, 35-38, 36t creativity and, 609-610 cyclical view of self-regulation and, 514-517, 515/ defensive strategies and, 550- 554, 551/ development of, 40^-2, 216-218 discrimination and, 394-395 in early childhood, 205-207 empirical approach to, 579-580 evaluation anxiety and, 150t- 157, 154/ family obligation and, 268 fantasies vs expectations and, 649-652 flow experiences and, 602-604 goal pursuit and, 624 identity and, 229-230 implicit compared to self-attributed, 31-35, 34/ internalization of, 588-592 interpersonal theory of, 77/-78 intrapersonal theory of, 74, 75/, 76-77 lifespan theory of control and, 244-249, 245/ 246/ during old age, 240-241, 249- 253, 251/ ' overview, 19 peer networks and, 224 self-evaluation and, 212-216 self-theories and, 126 temperament and, 170-171 work competence and, 339-340 Motivational investment, 249-253, 251/ Motivational Trait Questionnaire, 340. See also Assessments Motive-goal congruence, 48 National Education Longitudinal Study, 402 Natural selection, 599 Need for competence creativity and, 619-620 internalization and, 590 overview, 6, 8, 582, 593-594 Needs creativity and, 618-619 intrinsic motivation and, 583- 584 overview, 472, 593-594, 598 as universals, 592-593 Neighborhood child well-being and, 420-421, 424-426 as a variable in measuring SES, 418 New Look perception, 625 New York Longitudinal Study ÍNYLS), 169-170. See also Temperament New York Performance Standards Consortium (NYPSC), 369 No Child Left Behind, 358 Obligation, 267-268 Observational level of self-regulation, 519-520, 521-522 Old age. See also Aging; Development, lifespan competence motivation during, 7-8 decline and disability during, 252-253 greatness and, 250-252, 251/ intelligence and vocational capacity during, 241-244 lifespan theory of control and, 244-249, 245/ 246/ overview, 240-241 regulation of motivational investment during, 249-253, 251/ work competence and, 349-350 Operant approach, 358-360 Operant behavior, 33. See also Behavior Opportunities action-phase model and, 245/- 246/ social competence and, 288-289 Optimism-pessimism evaluation anxiety and, 152 fantasies vs expectations and, 651-652 Optimized goal choice, 245. See also Lifespan theory of control Organismic perspective, 360-362 Organizational behavior, 132-133. See also Skills Orientation, 66 Originality, 614, 617 Outcome expectations. See also Expectations approach-avoidance distinction and, 60 expectancy-value theory and, 90-91 overview, 76 self-efficacy and, 89-90 stereotypes and, 398-399 O ver justification, 613 Parental investment, 422-424 Parenting. See also Parents achievement motivation and, 41-42 adolescence and, 224 attributions and, 194 child's psychological needs and, 260-26í creativity and, 620 cultural considerations regarding, 462-463 gender differences and, 94-95 698 Subject Index Parenting (cont.) immigrant experience and, 404 influences on, 269-272, 272- 273 internalization and, 591 perceived competence and, 209 self-efficacy and, 95 self-evaluation and, 218 self-theories and, 135-136 socioeconomic status and, 422- 424, 427 Parents. See also Parenting creativity and, 620 flow experiences and, 606 influence of children on, 269- 272 performance standards and, 362-363 pleasing, 475 role of, 261-269 socioeconomic status and, 422- 424 stereotypes and, 439 Passive avoidance. See also Avoidance motivation fear of failure and, 44 overview, 36i, 37 Peabody Picture Vocabulary Test (PPVT), 419. See also Assessments Peer acceptance, 281, 282-283, 285 Peer bonding, 80 Peer pressure, 96 Peer relationships. See also Friendship; Peers; Relationships academic motivation and accomplishments and, 285- 292 overview, 279 Peers. See also Social relationships adolescence and, 224 preschoolers and, 207-208 self-efficacy and, 95-96, 98 self-evaluation and, 212 social competence with, 282- 285 stereotypes and, 439-440 Perceived competence acquisition of, 209 attainment value and, 109-110 in early childhood, 208-210 expectancy-value theory and, 90-91 interpersonal motivation and, 77/-78 mastery-avoidance goals and, 61 overview, 73, 548-549 parenting and, 270 by parents, 265-266, 269 self-regulation and, 156 social and emotional consequences of, 80-83 social comparison and, 571-572 sports participation and, 324, 327 views of, 88-92 Perceived control, 91 Perceived cost, 112-113, 119. See also Subjective task values Perceived efficacy, 513-514 Perceived Motivational Climate in Sport Questionnaire, 320- 321. See also Assessments Perfectionism, 152 Performance. See also Evaluation anxiety; Performance goals; Performance standards achievement motivation and, 44-45 beliefs and, 648 cyclical view of, 514-517, 51Sf domains of, 615-616 in early childhood, 206 early research regarding, 53 evaluative emotions and, 141, 147, 189/-191 expectancy-value theory and, 90 fantasies vs expectations and, 649-650 flow experiences and, 604 greatness and, 250-252, 25\f implementation intentions and, 642-643 mental contrasting and, 657-658 parenting and, 265-266, 273 predicting, 568-569 preschoolers and, 195-197/, 196/ research regarding, 57-58 rewards contingent on, 585- 586 self-determination theory and, 114 self-efficacy and, 87, 92-95, 475^76, 513 self-regulation and, 510 social comparison and, 571-572 stereotypes and, 129-130, 382- 383, 450-453 work competence and, 336, 337, 347 Performance-approach goals. See also Goals during adolescence, 226 gender and, 385-386 Performance-avoidance goals, 60- 61, 63-64, 147-148, 156, 298, 311, 364, 386, 400 Performance deficit theories, 150r, 151-153 Performance goals. See also Goals; Performance approach-avoidance distinction and, 59-62 in early childhood, 213 fear and, 175 gender differences in, 385-386 high stakes Testing and, 363-365 instructional practices and, 311 research regarding, 62-64 schooling and, 227, 298-300 sports participation and, 326- 329 terminology of, 65-66 Performance phase of self-regulation, 515/ 516. See also Self-regulation Performance standards. See also Performance creativity and, 612 legislating competence and, 354- 356 teachers and, 362-363 Perseverance. See also Giving up; Persistence effort and, 532-534 intentions and, 3 Persistence. See also Effort expenditure; Giving up; Perseverance effortful control and, 180 overview, 543-544 self-efficacy and, 98, 475-476 Person-centered approach, 360 Person-environment goals, 115- 116. See also Goals Person-focused parenting, 264-265. See also Parenting Person variable, 376 Personal construct theory, 500-501 Personal creativity, 618. See also Creativity Personal voice, 510-511 Personality. See also Temperament anxiety and, 146 creativity and, 612-615 evaluation anxiety and, 152 fear and, 174-175 five-factor model of, 341-342 of parents, 273 perceived competence and, 81- 82 performance goals and, 58 PPIK theory, 344-345/ self-theories and, 133-134 test anxiety and, 142-143 work competence and, 340-342, 343_344, 349-350 Subject Index 699 Personality Research Form, 32. See also Assessments Persuasion, 377 Persuasions, social, 87-88 Pessimism compared to self-handicapping, 156 as a defensive strategy, 561-562 evaluation anxiety and, 152 Physical competence, 650-651 Physical cues, 302 Picture Story Exercise, 32. See also Assessments Play effectance motivation and, 581- 583 in the empirical approach, 580 explaining, 581 mastery motivation and, 173 Popularity perceived competence and, 80 social competence and, 282-283 Positive and Negative Affect Scale, 324. See also Assessments Poverty. See also Socioeconomic status child well-being and, 418-420 of the neighborhood, 420-421 overview, 414-415, 426-427 as a variable in measuring SES, 415-417, 416/ PPIK theory, 344-345/ Pragmatism, 471^472 Praise compared to social persuasions, 88 in early childhood, 208 performance and, 190 process-focused, 264-265 as a reward, 36 socialization and, 134-136 from teachers, 398-399 Predestination, 470 Prediction of performance, 568- 569 Preschool, 452-453 Preschool in Three Cultures, 457- 458 Preschoolers. See also Development, lifespan achievement motivation and, 205-207 attributions and, 195-197/ 196/ competence and, 207-211 self-evaluation and, 204-205, 212-213 Pride. See also Evaluative emotions locus causal properties and, 76 maltreatment and, 199 structural model of, 189/-191 Primary control striving, 244. See also Lifespan theory of control Priming, goal, 626-633 Private self-consciousness, 155 Problem definition, 616-617 Problem identification, 616-617 Problem-solving process assessing, 26 competence and, 647 creativity and, 616-617, 620 self-regulation and, 516 Procedural knowledge. See also Knowledge implicit motives and, 34/—35 overview, 19-20 Proces s-foe u sed parenting. See also Parenting overview, 264-265 perceived competence and, 270 Process-oriented perspective, 616- 618 Process simulations, 651-652 Procrastination, 156 Pro duct-oriente d perspective, 616- 618, 620 Projection of goals, 630-631 Protestant ethic, 470 Proximal motives overview, 599-600 self-handicapping and, 558 Proxy model. See also Social comparison predicting performance and, 568-569 superstar argument and, 569-571 Psychic entropy, 600-601. See also Flow experience Psychic unity, 500-501 Psychoanalytic approach drives and, 598-599 explaining play within, 581 overview, 580-581 unconsciousness and, 625 Psychoeconomic theory, 611 Psychology, 491 Psychopathology, 422 Puberty, 223. See also Adolescence; Development, lifespan Public self-consciousness, 155 Punishment approach and avoidance motivation and, 35-38, 36i extrinsic goals and, 58 high stakes testing and, 354- 355, 356-357 learning and, 361-362 parenting and, 41-42 Purpose family relationships and, 267- 268 overview, 55 as a psychological need, 260 Race. See also Cultural considerations; Ethnicity discrimination and, 393-396 ethnic identity and, 400-403 future research regarding, 406- 409 motivation and, 392-393 neighborhood socioeconomic status and, 421 overview, 405-406 self-efficacy and, 94-95 social competence and, 290-291 socioeconomic status and, 427 stereotypes and, 129-130, 396- 400 temperament and, 467-468 Racism, 234. See also Ethnicity Radical behaviorism, 360. See also Behaviorist perspective Reactance, 538-539 Reactivity. See also Temperament overview, 168-169, 171-177 temperament and, 193 Reasoning, in early childhood, 208 Reciprocal determinism, 86. See also Social cognitive theory Reciprocal-effects model, 230 Reform, school high stakes testing and, 354- 356, 356-358 implications of, 368-369 during middle school, 228 motivation theories and, 367-368 Reframing ability, 452-453 Regrets, 247 Regulation, 589-590 Reinforcement, 579-580 Rejection. See also Evaluative emotions of feedback, 450 relationship defenses and, 562-563 social competence and, 282-283 stereotype threat and, 448 structural model of, 189/-191 Related attributes hypothesis, 566- 567 Relatedness in the classroom, 303-305, 313 internalization and, 590 need satisfaction and, 592-593 between parents and children, 266-269 as a psychological need, 260 F^" 700 Subject Index Relationships. See also Peer relationships; Peers during adolescence, 223-224 defensive strategies and, 562- 563 intelligence and, 461-462 meaning systems and, 133-134 between parents and children, 266-269 schooling and, 227 social competence and, 282 social goals and, 58 Religion, 470 Research adolescence and, 235-236 applications of in the classroom, 298-306, 306-307, 308r- 309r, 310-312, 312-314 current issues facing, 64-67 early, 53-56 integrative approach to, 157-158 from the mid- to late 1990s, 62- 64 regarding internalizations, 590- 591 regarding personality and work competence, 341-342 regarding race and ethnicity, 406-409 self-efficacy and, 97-100 since the mid- to late 1980s, 56- 58 superstar argument and, 569- 571 using the lifespan theory of control, 247-248 Responsibility achievement motivation and, 45 attribution theory and, 191 control and, 470-471 interpersonal theory and, 78 Resultant valence theory approach-avoidance distinction in, 59 overview, 3 Rewards approach and avoidance motivation and, 35-38, 36r creativity and, 610-611, 613 cultural considerations regarding, 477-478 effects of, 584-588 extrinsic goals and, 58 flow experiences and, 606 high stakes testing and, 354- 355, 356-357, 360 intrinsic motivation and, 112 learning and, 361-362 mastery motivation and, 173-174 parenting and, 41-42 Risk factors, 446^148 Sadness. See also Emotion development of, 186-187 goal-seeking efforts and, 532 Safety in the classroom, 313 environment and, 289 Sandwich format of assessment, 25-26. See also Assessments Scaffolding of parents, 262—263 perceived competence and, 266 stereotypes and, 480 School reform high stakes testing and, 354- 356, 356-358 implications of, 368-369 during middle school, 228 motivation theories and, 367-368 Schooling. See also Academic achievement; Classroom; Instructional practices; Teachers adolescence and, 223, 224 attributions and, 194 creativity and, 612 cultural considerations regarding, 480 enhancing competence motivation via, 306-307, 308í-309ŕ, 310-312 ethnic identity and, 233-235 g factor and, 20-24 high stakes testing and, 354- 356, 356-358, 365-367 knowledge acquisition and, 208- 210 minority groups and, 234-235 motivation and, 227, 298-306 parental involvement with, 261- 262 perceived competence and, 211 poverty and, 420 research regarding, 235-236 self-efficacy and, 96 self-evaluation and, 212, 218 social competence and, 280-281 as a variable in measuring SES, 417 verbal rehearsal strategies and, 208 Schools. See also Academic achievement; Schooling collective beliefs and, 86 environment of, 425 high stakes testing and, 356-358 No Child Left Behind and, 358 self-efficacy and, 100 Science ability, 380 Secondary control striving, 244. See also Lifespan theory of control Segmented assimilation, 403-405 Selective attention, 290-291 Selective primary control strategies, 244. See also Lifespan theory of control Selective secondary control strategies, 244. See also Lifespan theory of control Self-actualization learning and, 360 overview, 472 Self-appraisals development of, 216—218 in early childhood, 212-216 self-evaluation and, 203-204 Self-attributed motives. See also Motivation compared to implicit motives, 31-35, 34/" feedback and, 45 Self-competency, 548-549 Self-concept. See also Perceived competence during adolescence, 228, 229- 230 assessing, 91-92 defensive strategies and, 550- 554, 551/ disidentification and, 449-450 gender identity and, 232 overview, 88-89 peer relationships and, 290 work competence and, 342-343 Self-consciousness adjustment and, 197-199, 198/ development of, 185 evolution of, 605 flow experiences and, 600-601 individual differences in, 192-195 of preschoolers, 195-197/", 196/ structural model of, 189/-191 Self-controlled level of self-regulation, 520-521 Self-correction, 522 Self-criticism, 492 Self-determination theory in the classroom, 303-305 cultural differences and, 491- 492 effectance motivation and, 583 high stakes testing and, 355, 368-369 internalization and, 589-592 learning and, 360-361 need satisfaction and, 592-593, 594 perceived control and, 91 performance standards and, 362-363 responsibility and control and, 473 Subject Index 701 school reform movements and, 368 subjective task value theory and, 113-115 Self-efficacy academic achievement and, 97- 100 during adolescence, 224, 225 assessing, 91-92, 513-514 beliefs and, 648 in the classroom, 301-302 development of, 95-97 evaluation anxiety and, 152 expectancy-value theory and, 90-91 gender and, 377-378 instructional practices and, 307, 310 outcome expectations and, 89- 90 overview, 86-88 performance and, 475-476 relationship of to achievement outcomes, 92-95 responsibility and control and, 472^173 self-concept and, 89 social cognitive theory and, 85 stereotype threat and, 381 task performance and, 538-539 work competence and, 342-343 Self-enhancement model overview, 230 vs self-improving motivations, 476 Self-esteem compared to self-concept, 88 as contingent on failure and success, 128-129 cultural considerations regarding, 492 defensive strategies and, 550- 554, 551f, 554-563, 555f discrimination and, 395 disidentification and, 449-450 ethnic identity development and, 233, 407 evaluative emotions and, 190 gender differences and, 376 global, 548-549 immigrant experience and, 404 learning and, 361 locus causal properties and, 76 motivation in the classroom and, 297-298 overview, 228 self-evaluation and, 215 self-theories and, 122-123, 126 sports participation and, 330- 331 stereotypes and, 451 strategies of repairing, 130-131 superstar argument and, 569- 571 test anxiety and, 151-152 Self-esteem, global, 548-549. See also Self-esteem Self-evaluation. See also Social comparison achievement strivings and, 3 development of, 212-216, 216- 218 early, 202 in early childhood, 207-211 goal attainment and, 630 overview, 566-568 self-evaluation maintenance theory (SEM), 553 self-regulation and, 511 self-worth and, 548-549 stereotype threat and, 381 structural deficit approaches to, 203-207 Self-evaluation maintenance theory (SEM), 553 Seif-expression creativity and, 619, 620 friendships and, 291 Self-fulfilling prophecy, 398-399, 438^139 Self-handicapping as a defensive strategy, 554-561, 555f shyness and, 144 stereotype threat and, 449 test anxiety and, 143, 146, 156 Self-Handicapping Scale (SHS), 557. See also Assessments Self, history of views regarding, 469-473 Self-image, 493 Self-improving motivations, 476 Self-instruction, 510-511, 520-521 Self-judgments, 516-517 Self-liking, 548-549 Self-monitoring self-regulation and, 511, 518-519 stereotype threat and, 448 Self-motivation beliefs cyclical view of self-regulation and, 514-517, 515/ self-regulation and, 517-519 Seif-observation, 516 Self-perceptions. See Perceived competence Self-preoccupation, 150r Self-presentation, 144, 213 Self-reactions, 516-517 Self-recording, 516 Self-referent executive function theory, 154f, 156-157. See also Self-consciousness Self-reflection during adolescence, 223 social cognitive theory and, 86 Self-reflection phase of self-regulation, 515/, 516-517. See also Self-regulation Self-regulated level of skill, 521 Self-regulation cyclical view of, 514-517, 515/ defensive strategies and, 550- 554, 551f defining, 510-512 development of, 216-218 dynamic aspects of, 156-157 effortful control and, 177-180 evaluation anxiety and, 150t, 150Í-157, 154/; 159 implementation intentions and, 637-639 internalization and, 176 levels of skill acquisition and, 521-523 meaning systems across domains and, 132-134 motive-goal congruence and, 48 during old age, 240 overview, 509-510 poverty and, 419-420 role of, 512-514 self-efficacy and, 92, 97 self-motivational beliefs and, 517-519 self-theories and, 130-132 social cognitive training and, 519-521 social competence and, 281, 286-287 strategies of, 131-132 temperament and, 168 test anxiety and, 143 Self-Regulation Learning Interview Schedule (SRLIS), 512-514. See also Assessments Self-regulative theories, 151, 153- 155, 154/. See also Self-regulation Self-regulatory processes, 510-512 Self-reliance independence and, 469-470 parenting and, 42 Self-satisfaction, 517 Self-theories defining competence within, 127-128 meaning systems and, 124-127, 128-132, 132-134, 136 overview, 122-123, 123-124, 136-137 socialization of, 134-136 Seif-understanding, 549 702 Subject Index Self-verification, 554. See also Defensive strategies Self-worrh cultural considerations regarding, 493 fear and, 176 overview, 548-549 parenting and, 272 self-evaluation and, 215-216 self-handicapping and, 559-560 sports participation and, 330-331 Sex differences during adolescence, 231-233 attributions and, 194-195 developmental approach to, 376 interest value and, 172 intervention and, 136 intrinsic motivation and, 587 overview, 375-376, 387-388 parental values and, 266 parenting and, 271 in rejection sensitivity, 562 self-efficacy and, 94-95 shame and, 199 stereotypes and, 129-130 subjective task value theory and, 116-118 Sexual abuse, 198/" Sexuality drives and, 599 gender differences and, 376 Shame. See also Evaluative emotions effortful control and, 179 self-consciousness and, 198/—199 structural model of, 189/—191 Shyness avoidance coping and, 155 self-theories and, 133-134 social anxiety and, 144 Situational differences, 494^-95 Situational interest. See also Interest value in the classroom, 301 evaluation anxiety and, 154/- 155 intrinsic task value and, 111 work competence and, 345-347 Situational risk factors, 446-447. See also Risk factors Situationally specific goal states, 54-55 Skill acquisition, 521-523 Skill-developmental model, 230 Skills. See also Skills, coping competence as, 46-48 development of competence and, 15-17/ evaluation anxiety and, 150ř flow experiences and, 601-602 g factor and, 21-22 goal setting and, 93 meaning systems and, 132-134 self-efficacy and, 87 work competence and, 337-339 Skills, coping evaluation anxiety and, 155-156 levels of skill acquisition and, 522-523 mental contrasting and, 658-662 perseverance and, 533 task involvement and, 325 Skills deficit perspective, 144 "Small fish in a big pond effect" (SFBPE). See also Social comparison compared to superstar model, 574-575 overview, 572-574 Social anxiety. See also Evaluation anxiety cognition and, 157 overview, 143-144, 149, 155 uniformity myth and, 145-146 Social benefits to perceived competence arrogance and modesty and, 81- 82 overview, 80-82 Social biases, 290-291 Social class, 406-407 Social-cognitive processing, 290- 291 Social cognitive theory cultural differences and, 491- 492 fantasies about competencies and, 652 gender and, 377-378 mental contrasting and, 652-655 modeling and, 93 overview, 85, 86 self-regulation and, 510, 519- 521 Social cognitive training, 519-521 Social comparison. See also Self-evaluation during adolescence, 226—227 gender identity and, 232 models of, 574-576 overview, 566-568 perceived competence and, 571— 572 predicting performance and, 568-569 research regarding, 313 supersrar argument and, 569- 571 Social comparison theory, 566-568 Social competence academic motivation and accomplishments and, 285-292 knowledge acquisition and, 461- 463 overview, 280-285, 489-490 peer relationships and, 279 Social consequences to perceived competence, 82-83 Social construct, 474-475 Social-contextual influences, 584 Social domain competence in, 7 socioeconomic status and, 418 Social goals research regarding, 58 social competence and, 281 Social intelligence, 550-554, 561-562 Social interactions cultural knowledge in, 498 stereotypes and, 438-440 Social loafing phenomenon, 637-638 Social motivators in the classroom, 298 Social persuasions, 87-88 Social relationships. See also Peer relationships; Peers during adolescence, 223-224 defensive strategies and, 562-563 intelligence and, 461-462 meaning systems and, 133-134 between parents and children, 266-269 schooling and, 227 social competence and, 282 social goals and, 58 Social skills development of, 47 effortful control and, 180 Social status, 243 Socialization achievement motivation and, 41^12 fear and, 175-177 future research regarding, 408 gender and, 232, 378-379 immigrant experience and, 404 influence of children on, 269- 272 intrinsic motivation and, 587 of meaning systems, 134-136 peer relationships and, 96, 291 psychoanalytic approach and, 580-581 self-consciousness and, 193-195 self-theories and, 123 subjective task value theory and, 116-118 Subject Index 703 Societal issues, old age and, 242- 244 Sociocultural historical models, 458-460. See also Cultural considerations Socioeconomic status. See also Poverty behavioral and social aspects of, 418 child well-being and, 422-426 gender and, 406-407 measurement of, 415-418, 416/ of the neighborhood, 420-421 overview, 414^15, 426-427 Somatic states self-efficacy and, 88 worry and, 147 Specific attributions, 189. See also Attributions Sport achievement goals implications of, 329-331 overview, 318-320, 320-326, 326-329 Sports ability, gender differences in, 380, 385 Sports anxiety. See also Athletic competence; Evaluation anxiety overview, 144-145, 149-150 self-handicapping and, 156 trait and state anxiety and, 146 uniformity myth and, 145-146 Sports participation achievement goals in, 320-326 during adolescence, 225-226 adolescence and, 223 cyclical view of self-regulation in, 514-517, 515/ envy and, 81 flow experiences and, 604 goal frameworks and, 326-329 meaning systems and, 132 motivation and, 318-320 self-efficacy and, 514 sports anxiety and, 144-145, 149-150 stereotype threat and, 444 Stability, 33 Stability causal property, 76. See also Causal effects Standards creativity and, 612 legislating competence and, 354- 356 teachers and, 362-363 State anxiety. See also Evaluation anxiety compared to trait anxiety, 146 evaluation anxiety and, 154/-155, 158Í-160 Static assessment, 24-27. See also Assessments Stereotype threat. See also Stereotypes future research regarding, 408 overview, 440-450, 441/ performance and, 450-453 regarding intelligence, 396-398 Stereotypes. See also Cultural considerations auto-motive theory of, 626 competence beliefs and, 381-383 cultural considerations regarding, 480 future research regarding, 406^109 gender and, 231, 387, 388 overview, 437-438 performance and, 129-130, 450-453 racial, 396^100, 406 social competence and, 290-291 social interactions and, 438-440 students reactions to, 440-450, 441/ ' Stigma consciousness, 448 Stimulus variable, 376 Strategy use, 516 Stress discrimination and, 394 evaluation anxiety and, 150r mental contrasting and, 658-662 overview, 141-142 temperament and, 193 Stroop effects, 153 Structural deficit approach, 203- 207 Structure autonomy support and, 263-264 of parents, 262-263, 269 Subjective competence motivational function of, 649-652 overview, 648-649 Subjective task values. See also Attainment value; Expectancy-value theory; Values academic achievement and, 116 components of, 109-113 gender and cultural differences and, 116-118 goal theories and, 115-116 overview, 108-109, 119 self-determination theory and, 113-115 Substance abuse, 422 Success admiration and dislike as a result of, 82-83 American Dream ideology and, 471 arrogance and modesty and, 81 competence as, 45-46 expectancy of, 76 gender and, 384-385 hope of, 35-38, 36i, 38-40, 43- 44 perceived determinants of, 477- 478 self-consciousness and, 193 self-esteem and, 128-129 self-evaluation and, 213 social competence and, 281 Superstar model. See also Social comparison compared to the "small fish in a big pond effect" (SFBPE), 574-575 overview, 569-571 Suppression-oriented implementation, 641-642. See also Implementation intentions Surgency, 171-174, 172-174 Surprise, 186-187. See also Emotion Sympathy perceived competence and, 80 responsibility and, 78 Task analysis processes, 514-517, 515/ Task difficulty, 191 Task goals, 346 Task involvement attainment value and, 109-111 in early childhood, 206 overview, 54 preschoolers and, 195-197/, 196/ self-determination theory and, 115-116 self-efficacy and, 98 in sport achievement goals, 322-323, 325-326, 326-329 Task orientation, 323-324, 329- 331 Task performance difficulty of, 3 engagement and, 538-539 Task selection, 43 Task strategies, 5]0 Teachers. See also Academic achievement; Classroom; Instructional practices attributions and, 194 creativity and, 620 enhancing competence motivation and, 306-307, 308í-309ř, 310-312 high stakes testing and, 365-367 704 Subject Index Teachers (cont.j motivational research and, 298- 306, 312-314 performance standards and, 362-363 self-efficacy and, 99-100 self-evaluation and, 218 social competence and, 282, 286 socialization and, 379 stereotypes and, 398-399, 438-439 Technophobia. See Computer anxiety Temperament. See also Personality defining, 168 development of, 170-171 in early development, 169-170 effortful control and, 177-180 overview, 167-168, 180-181 self-consciousness and, 192-193 theoretical approaches to, 168-169 Terminology, current issues facing, 65-66 Test anxiety. See also Evaluation anxiety overview, 142-143, 148 theoretical perspectives, 150i- 157, 154 f trait and state anxiety and, 146 uniformity myth and, 145-146 Test Anxiety Questionnaire, 38-39. See also Assessments Testing. See also High stakes testing history of, 467-468 No Child Left Behind and, 358 overview, 24-27, 354-356 stereotype threat and, 441/^-450 Texas school system, 366-367 Texas State Achievement Tests, 367 Thematic Apperception Test, 340. See also Assessments Theory current issues facing the term of, 66 regarding temperament, 168-169 Theory of mind, 207 Thinking skills, 18 Thoughts, 87, 88 Threat to self, 552 Time management flow experiences and, 601 mental contrasting and, 660- 661 self-regulation and, 511 Token economies in the classroom, 298 Trait anxiety. See also Evaluation anxiety compared to state anxiety, 146 evaluation anxiety and, 154/- 154, 158r-160 test anxiety and, 155 Transactional model or stress and anxiety, 141-142 Transition during adolescence, 224 in early childhood, 208-209 expectancy-value theory and, 303 friendships and, 291 lifespan theory of control and, 248 schooling and, 227 self-efficacy and, 96 self-evaluation and, 218 Triadic reciprocal causation model, 377-378 Trichotomous achievement goal framework overview, 61-62 research regarding, 62-64 sports participation and, 327-329 2x2 achievement goal framework, 60, 64, 115, 319, 328 Unconsciousness auto-motive theory of, 626-633 goal pursuit and, 624-626 overview, 642-643 Unexamined ethnic identity, 233. See also Ethnic identity Uniformity myth, 145-146. See also Evaluation anxiety Universal need, 582. See also Need for competence Upward comparison. See also Social comparison perceived competence and, 571- 572 "Small fish in a big pond effect" (SFBPE) and, 574-576 Usefulness. See Utility value Utility value. See also Subjective task values gender and cultural differences and, 118 overview, 112, 119 Valence, 567-568 Validation of competence, 122 Values. See also Expectancy-value theory; Subjective task values during adolescence, 224-225, 225-226 competence valuation and, 591-592 cultural considerations regarding, 462-463, 493 expectancy-value theory and, 90-91 fear and, 175-177 gender differences and, 231-233 of parents, 266 self-determination theory and, 114 Verbal ability gender differences and, 376 socioeconomic status and, 419 Verbal persuasion, 302 Verbal rehearsal strategies, 208 Verbal rewards, SS5. See also Rewards Verbal self-concept, 230 Victimization environment and, 289 socioeconomic status and, 426 Violence, 426 Vocational capacities. See also Work competence old age and, 241-244 regulation of motivational investment and, 249-250 Voice, personal, 510-511 Well-being, 592-593, 594 Woodworm's Personal Data Sheet, 341, See also Assessments Work avoidance goals, 58 Work competence. See also Vocational capacities developmental framework of, 343-345/", 344/" distal determinants of, 337-339 gender and, 377 implementation intentions and, 637-638 model of, 347, 348/, 349-350 motivational traits and, 339-340 overview, 336-337 performance and, 337 personality and, 340-342 PPIK theory, 344-345f self-concept and, 342-343 situational influences on, 345-347 "small fish in a big pond effect" (SFBPE), 573-574 Work role demands, 345-346 Worry, 147 Zauberdenken, 649