first language we use. When an adult or an infant sees an emotional expression, it instantly gains information about the displayer’s current state. These talents translate to the linguistic domain, where squeaks, gurgles, and coos—the vocabulary of motherese—feed the emotional palate as well.
Studies have also shown that infants are born with a predisposition toward preferring abstract visual stimuli that look like human faces. Neonates a mere nine minutes old were shown different drawings before having ever seen a face—any face. They looked significantly longer (a common measure of preference) at a stylized pictogram of a normal human face, than at pictograms with exactly the same features but scrambled (a nose, mouth, eyes, and brows situated randomly on a circular “face”), suggesting they enter the world searching for kith and kin.
Just as prosody can be used as a pleasurable reward to condition infants, so too can the appearance of a human face. Newborns as young as two days old learn to alter their behavior (sucking and gazing) in order to maximize exposure to human faces. In fact, they master this task with astonishing efficiency, which tells us two very interesting things. First, neonates must be equipped with something that approaches single-trial learning, particularly when the task involves an evolutionarily significant variable such as the face. And second, the infant’s capacity for extracting emotional and intentional information from facial features has such critical importance for survival that the pleasure instinct has made the human face a most attractive and rewarding visual stimulus for babies (and, of course, adults).
We will find in later chapters that the human face has physical properties—such as lateral symmetry and exaggerated contrasts—in common with other stimuli that infants find naturally rewarding. Our evolved pleasure instinct for these visual features has lifelong repercussions for the development of aesthetics and physical attraction in the adult. Discovering which physical features the pleasure instinct nudges us toward during our first steps as neonates will help shed light on why certain aesthetic qualities, whether they are in faces, bodies, paintings, or landscapes, are universally appealing for humans. All of these inborn talents provide the neonate with tools for establishing an emotional communion with potential caregivers. One can hardly imagine the survival benefit to an infant who routinely engages inanimate objects (either through vocal or facial expressions) with no obvious human features, to the exclusion of their brethren. Nature is unwilling to take any chances with this most critical of objectives, the biological imperative to become attached to a caregiver, receive nurturance, and eventually become enmeshed into a broader social community. In the next few chapters, we will learn how this fundamental biological rule combines with embryological and developmental processes that regulate the growth and maturation of the human brain.
Chapter 3
What Makes Sammy Dance?
There seems to be a continuing realization by psychologists that perhaps the white rat cannot reveal everything there is to know about behavior.
—Keller and Marian Breland, The Misbehavior of Organisms
The mind of the thoroughly well-informed man is a dreadful thing. It is like a bric-à-brac shop, all monsters and dust, with everything priced above its proper value.
—Oscar Wilde, The Picture of Dorian Gray
O ne morning in 1970 a tortured twenty-four-year-old man with a history of drug abuse and severe depression walked into Dr. Robert Heath’s office at Tulane Medical School in New Orleans. By then Heath was a well-known, albeit controversial, figure who founded the Department of Psychiatry and Neurology at Tulane in 1948 after being recruited from Columbia University. Within a year of joining the faculty, Heath and his coworkers were conducting experimental studies in