The Memory Illusion

by Dr Julia Shaw

  Of course, this kind of sharing can also have tremendously pollutant effects for testimony if the event in question is one of interest to the police. This is because disclosure in such a group setting creates the potential for many of the co-witness effects to be discussed in the next chapter, where memories of events merge and we may appropriate the incorrect details of others, making fertile ground for false memories.

  The solution to all this is actually quite simple. If you know someone who has experienced a PTE, make sure they understand that you are available for support whenever they want it. Let them bring the event up if and when they need to, and certainly don’t force them to talk about things. They may never want to rehash the experience directly, as they may feel this would re-victimise them, and that is completely okay. Not talking about the event does not mean the person is not coping, or indeed that they are coping, it just means that they don’t want to talk. Everyone has their own method of dealing with the aftermath of such events.

  From being (or not being) in a helicopter that is attacked, to committing (or not committing) a serious crime, to group disclosure of traumatic events, no memory, no matter how emotional, is safe from corruption. Emotional memories have no special protected place in our brains – they are just like all other memories. Understanding this can make us more considerate of the memory errors of others, can inform our approach to the investigation of criminal offences, and can help us empathise with survivors of extreme situations.

  8. SOCIAL ME-DIA

  Media multitasking, groupiness, and digital amnesia

  Why media moulds our memory

  IF A TREE falls in the woods and no one is around to hear it, does it make a sound? If you have a party and no one Facebooks it, did it really happen? If you have an opinion and you don’t tweet it, does it really matter? Deep philosophical questions like this plague generation Y, and media – particularly social media – plays an unprecedented role in people’s lives.

  Our views on current events have been, and continue to be, influenced profoundly by the internet. And it’s not all cat pictures and porn out there – Facebook, Twitter, YouTube, Instagram, Reddit, Upworthy, BuzzFeed … we engage with a constant chatter of information which undoubtedly influences the way we perceive the world and shapes the way we share our experiences of it.

  Social media enhances our ability to find independent pieces of evidence to validate our memories, but it also has the potential to taint and distort them. We reflect on things that just happened; we document things that we think will get the most upvotes; we filter our lives to look desirable and interesting. But amidst the joy and sense of connectedness all this activity brings us, we occasionally stop and wonder whether this cacophony of impressions is actually good for us. What are the implications of media for our memories?

  Media multitasking

  Let me tell you a secret. You can’t multitask.

  While this may not come as a surprise to some of you, many of you probably think that you are excellent at doing multiple things at once. And, who am I to disagree – you are probably more than capable of walking, talking, thinking and drinking, all at the same time.

  But what we mean by multitasking is generally something more complex, doing meaningful tasks that require attention and memory, and thinking. And, at least since the inception of the smartphone, multitasking seems to have taken on a whole new meaning. We think we can have a conversation over coffee while constantly checking our phones, that we can iMessage all the way through a lecture and still remember the information the lecturer is imparting, and that we can post photos online and simultaneously enjoy the moment.

  The basic human assumption that we can adeptly multitask is the result of a fundamental underappreciation of how memory and attention actually work. As neuroscientist Earl Miller from MIT puts it, ‘People can’t multitask very well, and when people say they can, they’re deluding themselves … The brain is very good at deluding itself.’1

  Miller suggests that the better word to use in the sorts of situations that we like to think of as involving multitasking is task-switching: ‘When people think they’re multitasking, they’re actually just switching from one task to another very rapidly. And every time they do, there’s a cognitive cost.’ So while we may feel like we are getting things done quicker, instead we are just overloading our brains.

  A 2014 review of academic research on the impact task-switching has on efficiency, by Derek Crews and Molly Russ from Texas Women’s University,2 suggests that it is bad for our productivity, critical thinking and ability to concentrate, as well as making us more error-prone. And the consequences are not just limited to diminishing our ability to do the task at hand – they also appear to have an impact on our ability to remember things later. Task-switching also seems to increase stress, diminish people’s ability to manage a work–life balance, and can have negative social consequences.

  In 2012, academic development researcher Reynol Junco from Lock Haven University and sociologist Shelia Cotton from the University of Alabama3 further examined the impact of task-switching on our ability to learn and remember things, in an article entitled ‘No A 4 U’. They asked 1,834 students about their use of technology and unsurprisingly found that most of them spent a significant amount of time using information and communication technologies on a daily basis. More specifically, they found that ‘51% of respondents reported texting, 33% reported using Facebook, and 21% reported emailing while doing schoolwork somewhat or very frequently’. In terms of time spent trying to multitask while studying, the numbers also added up rather quickly. The students in their sample reported that just while studying outside of class, they spent on average 60 minutes per day on Facebook, 43 minutes per day browsing the internet, and 22 minutes per day on their email. That’s over two hours of attempting to multitask while studying per day.

  Unfortunately for the students, the study also found that such multitasking, particularly the use of Facebook and instant messaging, was significantly negatively correlated with academic performance; the more time students reported spending using these technologies while studying, the worse their grades were. Junco and Cotton concluded that this is possibly due to the students’ brains being overloaded, preventing them from engaging in deeper, long-term, learning.

  Why exactly does this overload happen? Because, as discussed in Chapter 1, our working memory capacity is incredibly limited, only being able to store four or five pieces of information at once. In 2015 neuroscientists Earl Miller from MIT and his colleague Tim Buschman from Princeton University4 wrote an article on why we have these limits on our bandwidth of cognition. Every neuron makes electrical noise that can be measured. Brainwaves are essentially our neurons firing together. They can do so at different frequencies, from less than 1 Hz to over 60 Hz. More relaxed states of mind generally create lower frequencies, and the more effort we put into a task generally the higher the frequency goes. These brainwaves are what we can see in some neuroimaging research, like EEG or MEG work. In their study, Miller and Buschman argue that these brainwaves (or, as they call them, oscillatory brain rhythms) are the key to the communication between the neurons in our brain and our core experience of thinking. They suggest that our brain ‘regulates the flow of neural traffic via rhythmic synchrony between neurons’, meaning that when we have a thought it is because a selection of neurons (which they refer to as an ensemble) are all firing at the same wavelength.

  It’s like a choir, where each individual member represents an individual neuron. The songs the choir sings are the thoughts in our brain. If each person sings their own song without reference to the others then the result is just a cacophony of sounds. Only when they sing in synchrony do they make coherent songs. Each person can also contribute to multiple songs, but they need to sing differently in order to create those different songs. Finally, the people in the choir don’t necessarily sing all the time – they can be part of some songs and not others.

  Miller and Buschman
argue ‘Because ensemble membership would depend on which neurons are oscillating in synchrony at a given moment, ensembles could flexibly form, break apart, and re-form without changing the physical structure of the underlying neural network. In other words, this may endow ensembles with a critical feature: flexibility in their construction.’ Our brains are able to seamlessly switch from one complex thought to another because neurons can work together by operating on a certain frequency of electrical signal, allowing synchronicity regardless of how they are physically joined together. As the authors put it, neurons hum together.

  But this ability that enables thought through immediate, temporary communication between neurons also seems to be what makes true multitasking impossible. Our brains can wire and rewire neural networks almost instantaneously, but this mental flexibility comes at the cost of only being able to do one thing at a time. After all, we cannot have the same neurons forming multiple ensembles at the same time, since that would require them to send out different wavelengths simultaneously. The choir members all need to be on the same page.

  For example, try looking around the room for things that are both upright and blue. As you do this you are likely searching for things that are upright, and then for each item you identify you switch and ask blue? And there is likely a very, very tiny pause as this switch occurs. In an experiment published in 2012,5 Tim, Earl and their colleagues gave this task to monkeys, training them to switch between paying attention to either the colour of a line or its orientation. The monkeys had electrodes attached to them to monitor their brain activity.

  When the monkeys were paying attention, trying to decide whether a line was red or blue, horizontal or vertical, they produced an increase in a particular type of brainwaves known as beta waves, which fire at 19–40 Hz. Depending on which task the monkeys were currently engaged in – either identifying line colour or orientation – different patterns of neurons were active. Some of the neurons involved in both tasks were the same, but the overall patterns or networks of neurons humming together was distinct for each task.

  Sometimes the monkey brainwaves would hum at the low frequency of 6–16 Hz – at this level they are called alpha waves. What was fascinating about these alpha waves was that they only seemed to appear when the monkeys were about to switch from identifying the orientation of a line to identifying the colour of it. In other words, the alpha waves were the task-switching waves. Alpha waves help us to stop thinking irrelevant things.

  In the monkeys the alpha waves helped to quiet down the humming of the brain’s network that was assessing whether a line was vertical or horizontal, so that the brain could hum the line colour identification network instead. This experiment provided hard evidence for the researchers’ hypothesis that these two conflicting tasks had to be switched between and could not be completed at once. As such, we cannot hope to make memories for more than one thought at a time.

  When we do two tasks that are trying to use the same part of the brain, such as the colour/orientation visual search task, we generally find it far more difficult than two operations that do not directly conflict, such as walking and talking. To look for upright and blue things at exactly the same time (rather than the split-second switch we just described) would require exactly the same visual neurons to do two different tasks at once. If there were little people instead of neurons in your head, this would be the equivalent of you giving Chris two jobs to do in the same minute, and Chris yelling, ‘Stop! I need to prioritise one of these!’

  On the other hand, we can ask two different parts of the brain to do things at the same time, like giving Chris one job while Adam gets another. They may still slow each other down because they have to talk to each other from time to time, but they can generally get both tasks done pretty well. This is basically what happens when conscious and unconscious processes occur at the same time; Conscious Chris is good at thinking and making decisions, while Automatic Adam is good at driving, walking, and doing other tasks that are mostly automatic to us.

  But even this scenario is not so great. Research on the dangers of task-switching shows that trying to divide our attention can be problematic even when it is between seemingly unrelated tasks. In 2006, David Strayer and his research team at the University of Utah6 published a study comparing drunk drivers to drivers who were talking on their cell phones. In this scenario we can assume that most conscious attention is being directed at the conversation, while driving has been relegated to automatic monitoring. The researchers found ‘When drivers were conversing on either a handheld or hands-free cell phone, their braking reactions were delayed and they were involved in more traffic accidents than when they were not conversing on a cell phone.’ They went on to say that driving while chatting on the phone can actually be as bad as drunk driving, with both noticeably increasing the risk for car accidents.

  The reason for this is most likely that the two tasks, driving and talking, are not as totally unrelated as we might think. This is because Conscious Chris is Automatic Adam’s boss. If Adam encounters any situation he cannot solve easily, like having to make a decision, he needs to ask Chris. This is annoying, because it means that Adam keeps interfering with the task that Chris is trying to oversee: Turn here? ‘Yes, I’ll be there for 8.30.’ Can I make it through these lights? ‘I think you should wear the green dress tonight.’ Tricky stuff. So even automatic processes are often not as totally automatic as we may assume.

  Scientists have therefore been arguing for years that the hazards associated with talking on the phone while driving have more to do with the inability to multitask than the inability to use the hand that is holding the cell phone. The current laws in many countries which allow hands-free phone use, while banning hand-held phone use, seem to be either ignoring or fundamentally not understanding this information.

  If I have not yet fully destroyed your view of yourself as a consummate multitasker, I will leave you with one more study that may change your affection towards your phone. In 2015, communications researchers Aimee Miller-Ott from Illinois State University and Lynne Kelly7 from the University of Hartford looked at how our constant use of our phones while also engaged in other activities can impede our happiness. They argue that we have expectations of how certain social interactions are supposed to look, and if these expectations are violated we have a negative response.

  In a qualitative study they asked 51 participants to explain what they expect when ‘hanging out’ with friends and loved ones, and when going on dates. They found that the mere presence of a visible cell phone decreased the satisfaction of time spent together, never mind if the person was constantly using it. Reasons mentioned for disliking the other person being on their cell phone included that it violated the expectation of undivided attention during dates and other intimate moments. When hanging out, this expectation was lessened, so the presence of a cell phone was not perceived to be as negative but was still often considered to diminish the in-person interaction. This corresponded with what they found in their review of the academic literature, where there is strong evidence to show that romantic partners are often annoyed and upset when their partner uses a cell phone during time spent together.

  This is also borne out in work by marketing professor James Roberts with Meredith David from Baylor University Hankamer published in 2016.8 Roberts coined the term ‘phub’ – an elision of ‘phone’ and ‘snub’ – to describe the action of a person choosing to engage with their phone instead of engaging with another person. You might, for example, indignantly say ‘Stop phubbing me!’ According to Roberts, phone attachment leading to this kind of rude behaviour has been linked with higher stress, anxiety and depression.

  So, if you want the interactions in your life to be more productive, safe and meaningful, either be on your phone or be present in the offline world, with a definite emphasis on the latter.

  Stream of social consciousness

  We love our online world because of the constant sense of connection it provides. I
t grants us access to an almost limitless stream of information about the world, and it provides a forum for us to instantly share our memories and our impressions about it with other people. Through this process of sharing, our memories have become part of a social landscape, a stream of social consciousness that we both shape and are shaped by.

  The first time I really appreciated just how much memory can be influenced by social media was in 2011 when I was living in the small city of Kelowna, Canada. Just after 3pm on Sunday 14 August I was out driving with some friends. We turned onto one of the main city streets and felt immediately that something significant had just happened. Kelowna is normally absolutely bursting with tourists in August, and yet this street was eerily empty – no tourists, no locals. Nobody.

  While we were looking around, puzzled, a woman ran behind us. She looked terrified. Then suddenly what seemed like every police car in the city came bolting past us. The street was immediately shut down and we were trapped between two police blocks. In an attempt to understand the situation my friend pulled out his smartphone and started to investigate. First, Google – nothing. Then, local news – still nothing. Finally he tried Twitter. Suddenly we had a continuous live stream of what was happening:

  ‘Shots fired.’

  ‘Two gunmen just opened fire on SUV outside Delta Grand hotel.’

  ‘Everybody just hit the ground. Someone just got gunned down outside.’

  ‘Shooters using automatic weapons. The gunmen in a silver van.’

  ‘Medics are removing a man from bullet-riddled car covered in blood.’

  ‘I heard gunshots, it sounds like something is collapsing, like a building is collapsing.’