Perspectives on Human Development, Family, and Culture

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Perspectives on Human Development, Family, and Culture

Ci
¸ gdem Ka
gıt¸cıba¸sı has long been at the forefront of research in developmental and cultural psychology, and is one of the world’s most highly respected cross-cultural psychologists. This collection of essays has been produced in honor of Professor Ka
gıt¸cıba¸sı’s retirement and to commemorate her contribution to the field. The volume examines social, developmental, and cultural psychology and intervention policies. A select group of international expert scholars explore those aspects of human behavior that are observed in all cultures, as well as those that are unique to each. They also examine changes in the family across sociocultural contexts and generations in order to understand the factors precipitating these changes. Representing the most recent developments in theory and research in the field, this is a cutting-edge volume that will appeal to researchers and students of developmental and crosscultural psychology across the world. S E V D A B E K M A N is a Professor in the Department of Primary Education at Bo
gazi¸ci University, Istanbul, Turkey. A Y H A N A K S U - K Oc ¸

is a Professor in the Department of Psychology at Bo
gazic¸ i University and in the Department of Psychology at Yeditepe University, Istanbul, Turkey.

Perspectives on Human Development, Family, and Culture Sevda Bekman Ayhan Aksu-Koc¸

CAMBRIDGE UNIVERSITY PRESS

Cambridge, New York, Melbourne, Madrid, Cape Town, Singapore, São Paulo, Delhi, Dubai, Tokyo Cambridge University Press The Edinburgh Building, Cambridge CB2 8RU, UK Published in the United States of America by Cambridge University Press, New York www.cambridge.org Information on this title: www.cambridge.org/9780521876728 © Cambridge University Press 2009 This publication is in copyright. Subject to statutory exception and to the provision of relevant collective licensing agreements, no reproduction of any part may take place without the written permission of Cambridge University Press. First published in print format 2009

ISBN-13

978-0-521-87672-8

Hardback

Cambridge University Press has no responsibility for the persistence or accuracy of urls for external or third-party internet websites referred to in this publication, and does not guarantee that any content on such websites is, or will remain, accurate or appropriate.

Contents

List of figures page viii List of tables ix List of contributors xi Preface xiii Foreword xix m. b re w s t er s m i th Selected international publications by Ci
¸ g dem Ka
g ıt¸cıba¸sı xxii I Cultural and cross-cultural psychology: selected perspectives 1 Indigenization and beyond: the process and extent of psychology’s growth as an international science j o h n g. ad a ir 2 The continuing quest for psychological universals in categories, dimensions, taxonomies, and patterns of human behavior wa lt er j. lon ne r

1 3

17

3 Circumnavigating the psychological globe: From yin and yang to starry, starry night m i ch a el h a r r is bo n d

31

4 The emerging global psychology movement: Lessons from Arab psychology u w e p. g i e l e n

50

II Development in the family context

67

5 Organizing principles and processes from developmental science for culture and caregiving €r €n g o m a r c h. b o r n s t e i n a n d d e r y a g u

69

v

vi

Contents

6 A social change and human development perspective on the value of children g i s e l a t r o m m sd o r f f 7 Turkish family structure and functioning b i l g e at a c a 8 Mothers’ and fathers’ child-rearing practices and selfesteem in three generations of urban Turkish families diane sunar III Culture and self 9 In search of autonomous-relational self-construal p e t er b. sm i t h 10

11

12

14

15

108

126

141 143

Culture and developmental pathways of relationship formation h e i d i ke l l e r a n d r o b i n h a r w o o d

157

Microgenesis of narrative competence during preschool interactions: Effects of the relational context € n t ay a yl in c. k u

178

Self-development, individuation, and culture: A psychoanalytic search € l e r o km a n f i s¸ e k gu

194

IV Social change, family, and gender 13

86

One or two pathways to modernity? A systematic comparison of Ka
gıt¸cıba¸sı’s Model of Family Change and the Model of the Second Demographic Transition bernhard nauck Living together in culturally-plural societies: Understanding and managing acculturation and multiculturalism j o h n w. b e r r y Cultural continuity and discontinuity in Turkish migrant families: Extending the Model of Family Change €r €n g o karen p halet a nd derya g u

207

209

227

241

Contents

16

Values and attitudes of young people in urban Turkey: A further test of Schwartz’s theory of values and Ka
gıtc¸ ıba¸sı’s Model of Family Change ha le bola k b ora t av

vii

263

17

Career development of professional women in Turkey z e yn e p ay c an

284

V

Induced change

299

18

Adapting intervention programs for use across societies: Between valid transfer and cultural imposition y p e h. po o r t i n g a

19

20

Design of culturally-appropriate developmental interventions n az l i b a y da r Designing, implementing, sustaining, and evaluating idiocultures for learning and development: The case study of the Fifth Dimension m i c h a e l co l e

21

Intervention programs to improve cognitive skills €z €l g o sam i_ g u

22

Pro-poor approaches to using technology for human development: Monitoring and evaluation perspectives daniel a. wagner Epilogue t. s. s ar as w a th i Subject Index Author Index

301

314

331 350

367

381 391 393

Figures

5.1 Paths of influence among culture, caregiver, and child 6.1 Scatter plot of the cross-culture correlation between GDP and socio-economic VOC 6.2 Scatter plot of the cross-culture correlation between fertility and socio- economic VOC 6.3 Dendogram of clusters of cultures 6.4 Means of selected values for the three-cluster solution 9.1 The Ka
gıtc¸ ıba¸sı self-construal model 14.1 Intercultural strategies in ethno-cultural groups and the larger society 16.1 Value structure for the sample: two-dimensional smallest-scale analysis 16.2 Values in relation to liberal attitudes towards gender roles: Pearson correlations for men and women

viii

page 71 93 94 95 96 149 230 271 276

Tables

4.1 Research activity by psychologists in nineteen countries of the Middle East and North Africa

page 57

4.2 Research activity by psychologists in twenty-one developing countries and the Arab World 7.1 Frequencies of social structural variables

58 114

7.2 Descriptive statistics for emotional distance and family roles

116

7.3 Family roles by population and father education 8.1 Mean scores for perceived mother and father acceptance, control, discipline, and autonomy encouragement for respondents with low, middle, and high self-esteem, with F, p, and partial g2 values 8.2 Correlations between child’s ratings of mother’s behaviors and mother’s self-ratings on affection, control, discipline, and autonomy support 8.3 Mean scores for perceived mother and father affection, control, discipline, and encouragement of autonomy by generation, with F, p, and partial g2 values for the effect of generation 9.1 Factor loadings for six items concerning autonomousrelational self-construal 11.1 Distribution of participants by center, age, and gender 15.1 Traditional and emotional interdependence in TurkishDutch migrant families: Means (standard deviations) by generation and gender 15.2 Effects of generation, gender, education, and religion on Turkish-Dutch family models: Standardized regression coefficients

120

131

132

133 152 181

246

248

ix

x

List of tables

15.3 Egalitarian gender-role values in Turkish-German migrant families: Value discrepancies across gender and generations 16.1 Means and standard deviations of study variables, and Pearson correlations 16.2 MANOVA of value priorities as a function of education, gender, and SES 16.3 Mean scores on values by gender-role attitudes, and MANOVA results 16.4 Mean scores on gender-role attitudes by gender and education 16.5 Mean scores on values by family size preference, and MANOVA results 16.6 Mean scores on expectations of autonomy by values, and MANOVA results

253 272 274 275 275 276 278

16.7 Beta scores from multivariate prediction to people’s autonomy expectations of children by their value priorities and perceived parental expectations

278

22.1 Women’s Internet use in selected developing countries and the United States

373

Contributors

j o h n g. a d a i r Professor Emeritus of Psychology, University of Manitoba, Canada b i l g e a t a c a Associate Professor of Psychology, Bo
gazic¸ i University, Turkey ze yn ep ay c an Professor of Psychology, Koc¸ University, Turkey n az l i b a yd a r Visiting Associate Professor, Koc¸ University, Turkey j o h n w. b e r r y Professor Emeritus of Psychology Queen’s University at Kingston, Canada m ic h a el h a r r is b o n d Research Professor of Psychology, Chinese University of Hong Kong ha le bola k b orat a v Associate Professor of Psychology, Istanbul Bilgi University, Turkey m a r c h. b o r n s t e i n Head of the Child and Family Research Program in Developmental Neuroscience; Senior Scientist, Eunice Kennedy Shriver National Institute of Child Health and Human Development; and Professor in Human Development and Senior Researcher, National Institute of Child Health and Human Development, Washington DC, USA m i c h a e l co l e Distinguished Professor of Communication, Psychology, and Human Development, Laboratory of Comparative Human Cognition, University of California, San Diego, USA € l e r o k m an f i s¸ e k Professor of Clinical Psychology, Bo
gu gazi¸ci University, Turkey u w e p. g i e l e n Professor of Psychology and Executive Director, Institute for International and Cross-Cultural Psychology, St. Francis College, USA xi

xii

List of contributors

€ z Professor of Psychology, Koc¸ University, Turkey €l g o sam i_ g u € r Senior Researcher, Department of Psychology, Uni€n g o derya gu versity of Leuven, Belgium and Utrecht University, The Netherlands robin h ar wood Faculty Associate, Ruhr University Bochum, Germany h e i d i ke l l e r Professor of Psychology, University of Osnabr€ uck, Germany € n t ay Associate Professor of Psychology, Ko¸c University, ay li n c. k u Turkey w a l t e r j. l o n n e r Professor Emeritus, Department of Psychology, Western Washington University, Bellingham, USA b e r n h a r d n a u c k Professor of Sociology, Chemnitz University of Technology, Germany k a r e n ph a l e t Professor of Psychology, University of Leuven, Belgium and Utrecht University, Netherlands y p e h. po o r t i n g a Professor Emeritus, Tilburg University and Catholic University of Leuven, Netherlands t. s. s ar a s w at h i Professor of Human Development (retired), the Maharaja Sayajirao University of Baroda, Baroda, India m. b r e w s t e r s m i t h Professor Emeritus of Psychology, University of California, Santa Cruz, USA p e t e r b. s m i t h Professor Emeritus of Social Psychology, University of Sussex, UK diane s unar Professor in Psychology, Istanbul Bilgi University, Turkey g i s e l a t r o m m s d or f f Professor of Developmental and CrossCultural Psychology, University of Konstanz, Germany, and Research Professor, German Institute of Economic Research, DIW, University of Konstanz, Berlin, Germany d a n i e l a. w a g n e r Professor and Director, International Literacy Institute, Graduate School of Education, University of Pennsylvania, USA

Preface

This book covers issues ranging from the status of psychology as a science in the majority world to policy implications that can be derived from it in the form of intervention programs. Within this range from theoretical to practical applications are issues concerning the relation between culture and parenting, self-development in a cultural context, and effects of social change on family and gender roles, which all are among the core concerns of the discipline of human development as well as the cultural perspective. The chapters explore these issues either by comparing the western world with the majority world, or focus on a single culture from the latter. Thus the book addresses questions of interest for developmental psychologists, cross-cultural psychologists, community psychologists, intervention researchers, and policy makers in life span education. A major reason for putting together this book was to present the state of the art from the perspectives of the western and majority world contributors to the study of culture and development. A second motivation was to recognize the developments that have taken place in this area in the majority world, and particularly in Turkey. One of the driving forces in this development has been Ci
¸ gdem Ka
gıt¸cıba¸sı, who has undertaken significant cross-cultural research and posited theoretical models of self-development and family change. Her work has provided an alternative to the models prevalent in the western world by showing that urbanization and socio-economic development need not necessarily have a single outcome in the form of an autonomous– separate–self. In her Model of Family Change, individuation and autonomy are gained not at the expense of relatedness but within its supportive context. In addition, a longitudinal applied research project she conducted on early childhood development and parent education has led to a wide-scale intervention program, exemplifying an instance of science–application–policy interface. In line with the trend Ka
gıt¸cıba¸sı set in her work, the book aims to bridge theory and applications, as well as science and social relevance in building a sound scientific basis for understanding human behavior. xiii

xiv

Preface

There are five different sections in the book. Section I, Cultural and Cross-cultural Psychology: Selected Perspectives, consists of four essays which variously reflect on the coming of age of cultural psychology as a consequence of the refinement of the cross-cultural method. All concur on the view that cross-cultural psychology has reached the stage where the methodology is advanced enough to generate data that can serve as a basis for hypotheses concerning cultural specifics versus universals. However, they also all agree that there is much more ground yet to be covered. In the first essay John Adair presents an empirically-based model for the development of psychology as an international science. Emphasis is placed on majority world countries where the imported discipline has been nurtured, indigenized, and developed to a level making independent contributions to the world of psychology. The stages of discipline growth are documented by empirical changes over time in the dissemination of research by psychologists from each country. Walter Lonner, the second contributor to this section, discusses the importance of the search for psychological universals despite cultural particulars in human behavior. Noting the various attempts to find categories, dimensions, and taxonomies of meaningful human characteristics, he claims that the field is ready to look for causal explanations, using multi-method, multi-cultural, and multi-researcher approaches. Michael Bond, in his chapter, provides an overview from his own personal experience and offers his understanding of what culture is and how it operates. He analyzes the development of the discipline into three “epochs.” The first is the phase of cataloging cross-cultural differences, the second is the phase of construction of models for mapping cultural groups into various taxonomies, and the third focuses on explaining the differences found during the first two phases. The last chapter of this section is by Uwe Gielen, who evaluates the status and future prospects of psychology in the Arab countries in terms of involvement in academic institutions, theoretical and research creativity and productivity, and ability to publish in major American and international professional journals. It thus provides a concrete example for the processes of indigenization and internationalization as discussed by Adair. Section II, Development in the Family Context, comprises four essays which focus on the critical issue of culture and parenting. They approach the question either from a cross-cultural or cross-generational perspective, or both. A conclusion that can be drawn from all is that while there are cultural specifics to socialization, the underlying processes appear to be universal. Marc Bornstein and Derya G€ ung€ or address questions regarding the relation of cultural values to caregiving cognitions and practices, the variability in normative caregiving, and the effects of

Preface

xv

these on children. They present cross-cultural evidence to show that all aspects of caregiving are shaped by cultural forces, while proposing socialization and internalization, learning and imitation, and cognition and scaffolding as the three universal mechanisms of parenting. In her chapter, Gisela Trommsdorff gives an overview of the original Value of Children study and presents results from its replication about 30 years later, which in addition, explores intergenerational relations with attention to parenting goals and behaviors. The findings are integrated into a model of value of children and intergenerational relations that takes into account the socio-cultural context while illustrating the mutual enrichment of a social change and human development perspective. Bilge Ataca presents the results of a study on the functional relationships among the nuclear and the extended family in a sample of Turkish university students, also comprising a part of the new Value of Children study. The findings are discussed in relation to Ka
gıtc¸ ıba¸sı’s Model of Family Change, the results of the multinational family project, and the previous literature on the Turkish family. Further empirical findings on parenting are provided by Diane Sunar, who investigates the relationship to self-esteem of child-rearing practices of mothers and fathers in three generations of Turkish urban middle-class families. Her comparison across generations presents a test case for Ka
gıt¸cıba¸sı’s model of change from a family structure that leads to the emergence of an interdependent-communal self to one that leads to the emergence of an autonomous-relational self. Section III, Culture and Self, focuses on self-development in terms of the constructs of autonomy, individuation, and interdependence. The chapters also discuss and offer examples of quantitative and qualitative methodologies for the assessment of self in culturally appropriate ways. The first chapter by Peter B. Smith, deals with the psychometric problems inherent in some measures used in the assessment of self along the two dimensions of independence and interdependence. Selfconstrual data from seven European nations are re-analyzed to extract three factors – independent, relational, and collective – to provide a clearer understanding of the results obtained by previous analyses yielding two factors. In their chapter, Heidi Keller and Robin Harwood also focus on three socio-cultural orientations to the development of self: the model for independence, the model for interdependence, and the model for individual agency and interpersonal relatedness. They discuss the different developmental pathways suggested by these models by looking at evidence from research on socialization goals and strategies, parenting practices, and verbal interaction patterns offered in different socio-cultural contexts. The next chapter, by Aylin K€ untay, examines

xvi

Preface

the development of competence in producing “autonomous” narratives, which is a crucial milestone contributing to various social and cognitive outcomes as well as to the construal of self. The author presents verbal interaction data from Turkish children of preschool ages showing how interdependent processes in daily interactions of young children with peers and adults might foster autonomy in narrative performance. In the last chapter of this section, G€ uler Fi¸sek discusses theoretical perspectives on understanding the “self ” by exploring early self-development from a cross-cultural psychodynamic perspective. The author focuses on different psychoanalytic approaches that present contrastive accounts of the process of individuation. Infancy research and neuroscience are presented as two promising areas for reconciling the dilemma and thus for the understanding of self construction. Section IV, Social Change, Family, and Gender, presents theoretical and empirical treatments of the effects of social change on the structure and functioning of the family, the changes in child-rearing practices across generations, and cultural transmission. They also focus on shifting gender roles that come with social change. Bernhard Nauck presents a theoretical overview of the interrelationship between macrosocial change and family structure. He considers the Model of the Second Demographic Transition and the Model of Family Change as alternatives to classical modernization theory, and compares them in the light of data from “collectivistic” and “individualistic” societies. Recognizing the difficulty of identifying empirical evidence in contexts of social change, the author considers minor results showing changes in the family as indicative of the predictions of both models. In his contribution, John Berry argues that the culturally-plural nature of all contemporary societies needs to be understood in psychological and policy terms. His theoretical framework links cultural and psychological acculturation in terms of the strategies employed at the level of ethnocultural groups as well as the larger society. He presents evidence from a recent study examining the acculturation and adaptation of immigrant youth, with emphasis on Turkish youth settled in Europe. Karen Phalet and Derya G€ ung€ or’s chapter explores intergenerational (dis)continuity in norms and values as a consequence of migration and acculturation. It focuses on the development of agency and relatedness among Turkish adolescents from the perspective of the Model of Family Change and provides examples from studies on parenting and value transmission among Turkish immigrant families in Europe. Hale Bolak Boratav reports on research on the value priorities of young adults in Turkey and their relation to education, gender, socio-economic status (SES) and attitudes towards various issues. The results are framed in terms of

Preface

xvii

Schwartz’s theory of values and Ka
gıtc¸ ıba¸sı’s Model of Family Change and the construct of individualism versus collectivism. In the last chapter of this section, Zeynep Aycan discusses the career development of professional women in Turkey in view of their socialization in the family and at the workplace. She brings in empirical evidence from three lines of research. The first explores key success factors in relation to the individual, the organization, and the family; the second examines attitudes towards women in management; and the third investigates the work– family balance of professional women with preschool children. Section V, Induced Change, concentrates on the issue of transferring intervention programs from one cultural context to another. The emphasis is on the importance of questioning the appropriateness of the target, the outcomes, and the causal processes of intervention for the target community. It provides examples of different types of intervention while offering criteria for the critical evaluation of the effectiveness of the programs as well as the evaluation techniques. In the first chapter, Ype Poortinga explores the issue of meaningful transfer of intervention programs from the culture in which they originated to other contexts. The author emphasizes the necessity of cross-cultural similarities for successful transfer and considers the strategies for doing so. He further discusses the principles for the transfer of psychometric tests for assessing the equivalence of the outcomes of different versions of a program. Nazlı Baydar addresses the same issues as Poortinga. She argues that the components of a culturally valid intervention must ensure that its targets are appropriate, the changes in the outcome are feasible and desirable, the causal process of change is appropriate, and the intervention process is acceptable for that specific cultural context. She follows with a discussion on how to assess the degree to which an intervention program fits the targeted culture. The next chapter by Michael Cole, offers an intervention program designed to serve as an alternative form of afterschool activity for school-age children and as an opportunity for students in higher education to practice their theoretical knowledge. The program is presented as an example for a “zone of proximal development” for the children, and as an example for cooperation between an institution of higher learning and a local community. In his contribution, Sami G€ ulg€ oz summarizes examples of programs for children and adults. He presents research on two programs in Turkey: teaching literacy to adults and cognitive capacity improvement for youth. Addressing problems associated with research on intervention, he concludes with suggestions regarding program design and research on intervention effectiveness. In the last chapter of this section, Daniel Wagner declares information communication technologies (ICT) to be an influential agent in

xviii

Preface

achieving educational equity, and thus in empowering disadvantaged groups. The chapter focuses on how evidence is gathered in the monitoring and evaluation of ICT projects, with examples from different countries, and discusses the reasons why attention should be paid to marginal populations and gender when using ICT for education. In the Epilogue to the volume, Tharakad Saraswathi provides an overview of the milestones in the development of cross-cultural psychology in terms of theory construction and data assembly, and underlines the advances made on the applied front. She then discusses the limitations of the discipline, raising questions that should be addressed. She concludes by noting reasons for hope given the state of the art. In putting together a collection of articles on family and human development from a cross-cultural perspective, we – as members of a collectivist society – wanted to make a tribute to our former professor. We met Ci
¸ gdem at the Middle East Technical University, where she was a young academician in the Department of Psychology and we were her students. Since then, we have been colleagues, sharing departments, research projects, and friends – sharing life in general. The contributors to the present volume are, likewise, her previous students and/or colleagues in Turkey or her colleagues from the international world. The idea for this project was inspired in 1998, in Bern, where the three of us were attending the International Association for the Study of Behavior Development Conference. The project itself, however, started in the fall of 2005. Ci
¸ gdem officially retired in January 2007 from Koc¸ University, after a distinguished career. She is currently continuing to teach and to contribute to the field by carrying out research and being actively involved in policy implementation. The Foreword, written by M. Brewster Smith, Ci
¸ gdem Ka
gıtc¸ ıba¸sı’s former professor, makes a thorough summary of her academic career and highlights her achievements. Therefore, we will not cover her biographical information here but instead leave the floor to Professor Brewster Smith. There are people and institutions we wish to thank. Duygu AslanYal¸cın helped us in editing the references, both in the text and in the bibliography. Zeynep Kulelio
glu prepared the index and formatted the original manuscript. Koc¸ University generously funded the preparation of the index. Without the contributors, the volume could not have been realized. We thank them all. We hope this collection will be useful to the consumers of knowledge of the field – both theoretical and empirical. We dedicate this volume to the memory of dear O
guz Ka
gıtc¸ ıba¸sı. Sevda Bekman and Ayhan Aksu-Koc¸

Foreword In honor of Professor Ci
¸ gdem Ka
gıtc¸ ıba¸sı M. B R E W S T E R S M I T H

I regard it a special privilege to be invited to participate in this volume honoring Professor Ka
gıtc¸ ıba¸sı, whose distinguished career I have followed with admiration since its early stages. In the 1950s, I knew her first as an able graduate student at the University of California at Berkeley. Ci
¸ gdem Cizak ¸ c¸ a, as she was then called, shared my interest in the important though faulted study of The Authoritarian Personality (Adorno et al. 1950), which had been carried out at Berkeley more than a decade earlier. She thought the negatively valued correlates of authoritarianism in American society would not hold for authoritarianism in Turkey, where authoritarian attitudes were supported by traditional social norms. In due course, I supervised her doctoral research, in which, against my cautious advice, she undertook a cross-cultural study comparing the responses of Californian and Turkish high school students to the F-scale, the measure of authoritarianism developed by Adorno et al. (ibid.). Before she had completed the analysis of her data, she married O
guz Ka
gıt¸cıba¸sı and returned with him to Turkey to take charge of the secondary school in Bursa that her father, just deceased, had established. Her challenges were heightened by the birth of their first child. Naturally, I could not be hopeful about the prospect of her completing the dissertation. Most doctoral students could not have done it under such circumstances. But I didn’t really know Ci
¸ gdem yet. To my pleasant surprise, she sent me excellent drafts by mail for my comments. The resulting dissertation was superb, and led to her initial publication, “Social norms and authoritarianism: A Turkish–American comparison” (Ka
gıtc¸ ıba¸sı 1970), which launched her in cross-cultural psychology. Another of Ci
¸ gdem’s continuing research interests also had its roots in her connections as a graduate student at Berkeley. Her research on “The changing value of children in Turkey” (Ka
gıt¸cıba¸sı 1982) was part of a multinational study launched postdoctorally by James T. Fawcett, another of my doctoral students and one of her colleagues in social psychology at Berkeley. I see that work, which she later replicated, as xix

xx

Foreword

leading to her important focus on changing family values in what she aptly calls the majority world of countries as yet to experience major industrial development. I have been an eager consumer of cross-cultural psychology, not a producer of it. My intensive contact with non Euro-American cultures in my research for the American Peace Corps in Ghana (Smith 1966) and in visiting my sons’ work with Mayan Indians in Chiapas, Mexico, had quickened my interest in cross-cultural psychology. It is a blessing that I have remained in close touch with Ci
¸ gdem as she has risen to leadership in cross-cultural research and theory. And I have been particularly delighted that she sees the cross-cultural approach, of which she and Triandis (1995) are major exponents, as complementary to the cultural psychology approach of Cole (1996) and Shweder (1991). These initial proponents of a distinctive cultural psychology that is particularly respectful of indigenous psychological formulations criticized the crosscultural approach as unduly committed to Euro-American conceptual categories. Together with Ci
¸ gdem and my distinguished Santa Cruz colleague Barbara Rogoff (2003), I strongly agree with the integrative view that seeks transcultural universals, especially of processes, while recognizing the crucial importance of historical and cultural context. Ci
¸ gdem achieves a similar valuable integration of polarities that more often are treated in opposition in her recent treatment of “Autonomy and relatedness in cultural context” (Ka
gıtc¸ ıba¸sı 2005). This culmination of her career-long concern with what Triandis (1995) had called individualism vs. collectivism, goes beyond her superb Family Development Across Cultures (Ka
gıtc¸ ıba¸sı 1996) in providing a theoretical rationale for the hope that as people in the majority world gain in autonomy in the course of economic development, they need not necessarily lose the relatedness the lack of which is a substantial defect in Euro-American culture. While she takes cultural (and historical) context fully into account, she has managed to transcend the limits of cultural relativism. My most recent visit with Ci
¸ gdem was a particular treat. My wife _ Deborah and I dined in Istanbul with her, Hale Bolak, and their husbands. Hale Bolak, who chairs the Psychology Department at Bilgi University, received her undergraduate education in psychology in Turkey with Ci
¸ gdem, who encouraged her to come to the University of California at Santa Cruz for her doctoral training. I supervised her excellent dissertation. I greatly value this additional link with Ci
¸ gdem. In all, I regard Ci
¸ gdem as an outstanding psychologist, a distinguished contributor to international psychology, and a dear friend. At the crest

Foreword

xxi

of her career, she has my gratitude and congratulations. I wish her the best, and expect we will be hearing much more from her. references T. W. Adorno, E. Frenkel-Brunswik, D. J. Levinson, and R. N. Sanford, The Authoritarian Personality (New York: Harper, 1950). M. Cole, Cultural Psychology: A Once and Future Discipline (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1996). C. Ka
gıt¸cıba¸sı, “Social norms and authoritarianism: A Turkish–American comparison,” Journal of Personality and Social Psychology, 16 (1970), 444–51. C. Ka
gıt¸cıba¸sı, The Changing Value of Children in Turkey (Publ. No. 60-E) (Honolulu: East-West Center, 1982). C. Ka
gıtc¸ ıba¸sı, Family and Human Development across Cultures: A View from the Other Side (Mahwah, NJ: Lawrence Erlbaum, 1996). C. Ka
gıtc¸ ıba¸sı, “Autonomy and relatedness in cultural context: Implications for self and family,” Journal of Cross-Cultural Psychology, 36 (2005), 403–22. B. Rogoff, The Cultural Nature of Human Development (London: Oxford University Press, 2003). R. Shweder, Thinking through Cultures: Expeditions in Cultural Psychology (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1991). M. B. Smith, “Explorations in competence: A study of Peace Corps teachers in Ghana,” American Psychologist, 21 (1966), 555–66. H. C. Triandis, Individualism and Collectivism (Boulder, CO: Westview, 1995).

Selected international publications by Ci
¸ gdem Ka
gıtc¸ ıba¸sı

Books The Changing Value of Children in Turkey (Honolulu, Hawaii: East-West Population Institute Publication, 1982). (co-edited with U. Kim, S. C. Choi, H. C. Triandis, and G. Yoon), Individualism and Collectivism (London: Sage, 1994). (co-edited with J. Adair), “National development of psychology: Factors facilitating and impeding progress in developing countries,” International Journal of Psychology, Special Issue, 30 (1995). Family and Human Development Across Cultures: A View From the Other Side (Hillsdale, NJ: Lawrence Erlbaum, 1996). (co-edited with J. W. Berry and M. H. Segall), Handbook of Cross-Cultural Psychology, volume 3 (Boston, MA: Allyn & Bacon, 1997). (co-edited with Y. H. Poortinga), Millenium Special Issue of the Journal of CrossCultural Psychology, 31 (2000). (with P. Smith and M. Bond), Understanding Social Psychology Across Cultures: Living and Working in a Changing World (London: Sage, 2006). (with J. Georgas, J. W. Berry, F. Van de Vijver, and Y. Poortinga), Families across Cultures (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2006). Family, Self and Human Development across Cultures: Theory and Applications (Mahwah, NJ: Lawrence Erlbaum, 2007).

Articles and chapters “Social norms and authoritarianism: A Turkish–American comparison,” Journal of Personality and Social Psychology, 16 (1970), 444–51. “Psychological aspects of modernization in Turkey,” Journal of Cross-Cultural Psychology, 4 (1973), 157–74. “The value of children: Motivations for childbearing,” in W. Molt, H. A. Hartmann, and P. Stringer (eds.), Advances in Economic Psychology (Heidelberg, Germany: Edition Meyn, 1981), pp. 236–53. “Value of children, women’s role and fertility in Turkey,” in N. Abadan-Unat (ed.), Women in Turkish Society (Leiden, The Netherlands: Brill, 1981), pp. 74–95. “Old-age security value of children and development,” Journal of Comparative Family Studies, Special issue, 13 (1982), 133–42. xxii

Selected international publications by Ci
¸ gdem Ka
gıtc¸ ıba¸sı

xxiii

“Culture of separateness–culture of relatedness,” Papers in Comparative Studies, Volume 4 (Columbus: Ohio State University Press, 1985), pp. 91–99. “Intra-family interaction and a model of change,” in Family in Turkish Society (Ankara: Turkish Social Science Association, 1985). “A model of family change through development: The Turkish family in comparative perspective,” in R. Lagunes and Y. H. Poortinga (eds.), From a Different Perspective: Studies of Behavior Across Cultures (Lisse, The Netherlands: Swets and Zeitlinger B. V., 1985). “Diversity of socialization and social change,” in P. Dasen, J. Berry, and N. Sartorius (eds.), Health and Cross-cultural Psychology: Toward Applications (Beverly Hills, CA: Sage, 1988), pp. 25–47. (with J. W. Berry), “Cross-cultural psychology: Current research and trends,” Annual Review of Psychology, 40 (1989), 493–531. “Child rearing in Turkey and an intervention research,” Psychology and Developing Societies, 1 (1989), 37–52. “Child rearing in Turkey: Implications for immigration and intervention,” in L. Eldering, and F. Kloprogge (eds.), Different Cultures, Same School (Lisse, The Netherlands: Swets and Zeitlinger, 1989), pp. 137–52. “Why individualism/collectivism?,” in D. M. Keats, D. Munro, and L. Mann (eds.), Heterogeneity in Cross-cultural Psychology (Lisse, The Netherlands: Swets and Zeitlinger, 1989). “Family and socialization in cross-cultural perspective: A model of change,” in J. Berman (ed.), Cross-cultural Perspectives: Nebraska Symposium on Motivation (Nebraska University Press, 1990), pp. 135–200. “The Early Enrichment Project in Turkey,” in UNESCO-UNICEF-WFP Notes, No. 193 (Paris UNESCO, 1991). “Individualistic vs. relational model of man: The case of an intervention research,” in M. Kıray (ed.), Structural Change in Turkish Society, Indiana University Turkish Studies Series, No. 10 (Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1991), pp. 59–75. (with D. Sunar), “Family and socialization in Turkey,” in J. L. Roopnarine and D. B. Carter (eds.), Parent–Child Socialization in Diverse Cultures (Norwood, NJ: Ablex, 1992), pp. 75–88. “Research on parenting and child development in cross-cultural perspective,” in M. Rosenzweig (ed.), International Psychological Science (Washington, DC: APA Publications, 1992), pp. 137–60. “Human development and societal development: Linking theory and application,” in A.-M. Bouvy, F. J. R. van de Vijver, P. Boski, and P. Schimitz (eds.), Journeys into Cross-cultural Psychology (Lisse, The Netherlands: Swets and Zeitlinger, 1993), pp. 7–27. “A model of multipurpose non-formal education: The case of the Turkish Early Enrichment Project,” in E. Eldering and P. Leseman (eds.), Early Intervention and Culture (Amsterdam, The Netherlands: UNESCO, 1993), pp. 253–68. “A critical appraisal of individualism and collectivism: Toward a new formulation,” in U. Kim, H. Triandis, C. ¸ Ka
gıt¸cıba¸sı, S. Choi, and G. Yoon (eds.), Individualism and Collectivism: Theory, Method and Applications (Newbury Park, CA: Sage, 1994), pp. 52–65.

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Selected international publications by Ci
¸ gdem Ka
gıt¸cıba¸sı

“Cross-cultural psychology and development,” in J. Pandey, D. P. S. Bhawuk, and D. Sinha (eds.), Asian Contributions to Cross-cultural Psychology (London: Sage, 1996), pp. 42–49. (with B. Ataca and D. Sunar), “Variance in fertility due to sex-related differentation in child-rearing practices,” in H. Grad, A. Blanco, and J. Georgas (eds.), Key Issues in Cross-cultural Psychology: Selected Papers from the XII Cross-Cultural Psychology Conference (Lisse, The Netherlands: Swets and Zeitlinger, 1996). “The autonomous-relational self: A new synthesis,” European Psychologist, 1 (1996), 180–86. “Individualism and collectivism,” in J. W. Berry, M. H. Segall, and C. ¸ Ka
gıt¸cıba¸sı (eds.), Handbook of Cross-cultural Psychology, Volume 3 (Boston, MA: Allyn & Bacon, 1997). “Introduction: Social and applied psychology, then and now,” in J. W. Berry, M. H. Segall, and C. Ka
gıtc¸ ıba¸sı (eds.), Handbook of Cross-cultural Psychology, Volume 3 (Boston, MA: Allyn & Bacon, 1997). “Whither multiculturalism?” Applied Psychology: An International Review, 44 (1997), 44–49. “The Turkish Early Enrichment Project and the Mother–Child Education Program,” Journal of Adolescent and Adult Literacy, 41 (1997), 70–72. “Crossing the Bosphorus: Toward a socially relevant and culturally sensitive career in psychology,” in M. H. Bond (ed.), Working at the Interface of Cultures (London: Routledge, 1997), pp. 126–37. “Parent education and child development,” in M. Young (ed.), Early Child Development: Investing in the Future of our Children (New York: Elsevier, 1997), pp. 243–72. (with D. Sunar), “Family and socialization in Turkey,” in B. Nauck and U. Sch€ onpflug (eds.), Familien in Anderen Kulturen [Families in Different Cultures] (Stuttgart, Germany: Enke Verlag, 1997), pp. 145–61 (in German). “Human development: Cross-cultural perspectives,” in J. G. Adair, D. Belanger, and K. L. Dion (eds.), Advances in Psychological Science. Volume 1: Social, Personal and Cultural Aspects (Hove, UK: Psychology Press, 1998), pp. 475–95. “Early learning and human development: The Turkish Early Enrichment Program,” in Global Perspectives on Early Childhood Education (Washington, DC: US National Academy of Sciences, 1998), pp. 41–50. “The Model of Family Change: A rejoinder,” International Journal of Psychology, 34 (1999), 15–17. (with Y. H. Poortinga), “Cross-cultural psychology: Issues and overarching themes,” Journal of Cross-Cultural Psychology, 31 (2000), 129–47. (with Y. H. Poortinga), “Millennium Prelude Symposium: The present state and future of cross-cultural psychology,” in W. Lonner et al. (eds.), Merging Past, Present and Future in Cross-cultural Psychology (Lisse, The Netherlands: Swets and Zeitlinger, 2000). “(Cross-) cultural psychology,” in K. Pawlik and M. R. Rosenzweig (eds.), The International Handbook of Psychology (Beverly Hill, CA: Sage, 2000), pp. 328–46.

Selected international publications by Ci
¸ gdem Ka
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xxv

(with D. Sunar and S. Bekman), “Long-term effects of early intervention: Turkish low-income mothers and children,” Journal of Applied Developmental Psychology, 22 (2001), 333–61. (with J. Georgas et al.), “Functional relationships in the nuclear and extended family: A 16-culture study,” International Journal of Psychology, 36 (2001), 5 289–300. “Psychology and human competence development,” Applied Psychology, 51 (2002), 5–22. “Autonomy, embeddedness and adaptability in immigration contexts,” Human Development, 46 (2003), 145–50. “Human development across cultures,” in T. S. Saraswathi (ed.), Cross-cultural Perspectives in Human Development (New Delhi: Sage, 2003), pp. 166–91. “Socialization across cultures: Implications for training and interventions,” in E. Leshen and D. Roer-Strier (eds.), Cultural Diversity: A Challenge to Human Sciences ( Jerusalem, Israel: Hebrew University Magnes Press, 2004), pp. 229–55. (with S. G€ ulg€ oz), “Intelligence and intelligence testing in Turkey,” in R. J. Sternberg (ed.), International Handbook for the Psychology of Human Intelligence (New York: Cambridge University Press, 2004). (with F. G€ ok¸sen and S. G€ ulg€ oz). “Functional adult literacy and empowerment of women: Impact of a functional literacy program in Turkey,” Journal of Adolescent and Adult Literacy, 48 (2005), 472–89. (with B. Ataca), “Value of children, family and self: A three-decade portrait from Turkey,” Applied Psychology: An International Review, 54 (2005), 317–37. “Modernization does not mean westernization: Emergence of a different pattern,” in W. Friedlmeier, P. Chakkarath, and B. Shwarz (eds.), Culture and Human Development (Hove, UK: Psychology Press, 2005), pp. 255–27. “Autonomy and relatedness in cultural context: Implications for self and family,” Journal of Cross-Cultural Psychology, 36 (2005), 403–22. (with B. Ataca and A. Diri), “The Turkish family and the value of children: Trends over time,” in G. Trommsdorff and B. Nauck (eds.), The Value of Children in Cross-cultural Perspectives: Case Studies From Eight Societies (Lengerich, Germany: Pabst Science Publishers, 2005), pp. 91–120. “An overview of acculturation and parent–child relationships,” in M. Bornstein and L. Cote (eds.), Acculturation and Parent–child Relationships: Measurement and Development (Mahwah, NJ: Lawrence Erlbaum, 2006), pp. 319–32. (with N. Baydar, F. G€ ok¸sen, and A. K€ untay), “Effects of an educational television program on preschoolers, Journal of Applied Developmental Psychology, 29 (2008), 349–60. (with D. Sunar, S. Bekman, N. Baydar, and Z. Cemalcılar), “Continuing effects of early intervention in adult life: The Turkish Early Enrichment Project 22 years later, Journal of Applied Developmental Psychology (in press).

I

Cultural and cross-cultural psychology: selected perspectives

1

Indigenization and beyond: the process and extent of psychology’s growth as an international science John G. Adair

For psychology to become a truly international science requires the participation and inclusiveness of contributions arising from diverse societies and cultures around the world. Few psychologists have worked harder to promote this goal than Ci
¸ gdem Ka
gıtc¸ ıba¸sı. From the platform afforded by her election to various prestigious international psychological and social science organizations, she has passionately and untiringly championed the cause of psychology internationally, especially in “majority world” (MW) countries.1 It is fitting that she was the third of nineteen recipients and the only psychologist from a MW country ever to receive the APA Award for Distinguished Contributions to the International Advancement of Psychology. Even though the award was undoubtedly due to her cross-cultural work and applied research with mothers and children in her native Turkey, she deserves to be applauded for her at times less visible work on behalf of psychologists from MW countries. In 1994 and 1996, Ci
¸ gdem was Coordinator of the program of Advanced Research and Training Seminars (ARTS), co-sponsored by three international associations (IUPsyS, IAAP, and IACCP) to provide the opportunity for specialized training and attendance at international congresses of psychologists from MW countries. Having succeeded Ci
¸ gdem as ARTS Coordinator for the next four international congresses, 1998, 2000, 2002, and 2004, I also followed her lead in vigorously advocating support for the program and for MW psychology as a member of the Executive Committee of the International Union of Psychological Science (IUPsyS). I came to accept and promote her terminology in my own research after we collaborated in editing a special issue (Adair and

1

“Majority world” is a less pejorative term she prefers to use in place of “developing” countries. It better captures the concept that these countries are the greater number of countries in the world that in turn contain or represent the majority of the people in the world. Although crediting Robert Myers (1992) for the first use of the term, Ci
¸ gdem has promoted its use through her writings and conference presentations.

3

4

John G. Adair Ka
gıt¸cıba¸sı 1995) on the development of psychology in developing countries. In a sense the cause we have advocated became the subject of my research – to model and study the indigenization process and the development and spread of psychology internationally. In the research that I describe in this chapter, I employ a social studies of science methodology to document the growth and development of psychology around the world into an increasingly mature, geographically balanced, and truly international science of psychology. A better understanding of how these processes of discipline development work may promote its advance in both MW and psychologically advanced (PA) countries.2 It is important for both PA and MW countries to make their research known and to contribute to the broader world of psychology.

Introduction Psychology as a scientific discipline originated in Germany in the late 1870s, but was imported into the US where it was transformed in research paradigm, in the topics researched, and through significant philosophical and methodological modifications. The new discipline developed and flourished and over the years has been exported around the world. But because of its earlier start and greater numbers, the US achieved and has maintained an extraordinarily dominant role in the world of psychology (Berlyne 1968). In addition to numbers of research psychologists, the US is a large and rich country with considerable resources to put to the service of research. The American Psychological Association (APA) is widely regarded as the most influential organization of psychologists in the world. At times, the central role of the US in psychology has been so great that it has appeared as if the science was uniquely guided by the perspectives, theories, and publications from a single country. This is unusual and not healthy for a scientific discipline.

Indigenization The new American version of psychology was imported and applied in a range of cultures without regard to how well it could be applied or would

2

An appropriate substitute for the labels “First World,” “Developed World,” or “industrialized” countries for my own research purposes is to refer to these countries not by the state of their economy but by the state of their national discipline, as “psychologically advanced” countries.

Indigenization and beyond

5

fit. Some key MW researchers soon questioned the discipline’s ill fit and lack of relevance to their country: Rogelio Diaz-Guerrero (1975) saw different premises guiding the behavior of Mexicans; Durganand Sinha (1973, 1986) questioned the relevance of psychological research to Indian society; Virgilio Enriquez appeared at successive international congresses “painting” dramatic word-pictures of differences in the Filipino culture from mainstream psychology. Within their respective countries, these voices called for indigenous psychologies; such transformations of the imported discipline that, once realized, would each appear as if it was indigenous to the local culture. Church and Katigbak (2002) claim that the Philippines has the most developed indigenous psychology. Yet another indigenous psychology, of the Chinese people, has been developed in Taiwan (Gabrenya et al. 2006; Yang 1997), and should be recognized for its programmatic conceptualization, clear guidelines for researchers, and systematic development. Indigenous research has become the major concern of many from MW countries, and is a staple research topic in IACCP congresses. Most MW writings on indigenous psychology have focused on the nature of and cumulative indigenous accomplishments within each national discipline, usually illustrated by “culturally unique” behaviors or processes that have been researched. The “process” of indigenization or transformation of the discipline is usually articulated post hoc, often simply described by the changes that have been realized. Durganand Sinha’s (1997) systematic cataloging of the types of indigenous accomplishments typifies this approach. Sinha conceived of four aspects or types of indigenization: (a) theoretical and conceptual, (b) methodological, (c) topical, and (d) institutional. His framework was used to guide a more recent assessment of Filipino indigenous psychology (Sikolohiyang Pilipino) through its accomplishments within each of these elements (Church and Katigbak 2002). Having thoroughly studied the literature, Church and Katigbak proposed a staged evolution of indigenization that researchers experience as they attempt to cope with the problem: (1) pre-encounter (uncritical acceptance of western psychology); (2) encounter (questioning of western psychology due to its ill fit, followed by initial searches for indigenous concepts); (3) immersion-emersion (active construction of an indigenous psychology and uncritical rejection of all things western); and (4) internalization (confident acceptance of newly-developed indigenous psychology as the valid approach, accompanied by a greater openness to blending in acceptable western elements). From this viewpoint the indigenization process is based on how researchers perceive, react to, and conceive the conceptual content of the discipline. Many cross-cultural psychologists are

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John G. Adair

interested in newly identified indigenous concepts that may yield insights into the universality of the science. My approach I have conceived of and been studying the indigenization process from a somewhat different perspective (Adair 2006): how an imported psychology can be transformed to be an appropriate fit as the national discipline for all future research. Rather than focusing exclusively on the discipline in MW countries and on its culturally unique content as somewhat different from the discipline and research found in PA countries, I based my research and writing on the following assumptions: that the national discipline in all countries generally develops as it would in any science in any country; that all national disciplines of psychology, including those in the developed world (except for the US), share the need for indigenization (or adaptation) of the discipline to their cultural context; and that integral to the development and indigenization of the national discipline is the training, maturation, and productivity of individual researchers within each country. Individual researcher development is much like human development – both follow pathways or trajectories toward the goal of increased maturity. Individual researchers begin their careers under close supervision. Their development is nurtured and guided by a research supervisor. As they master basic skills students are allowed to take their first steps toward independent research, which they demonstrate through work on their thesis or dissertation. On its successful completion, they move out of their home department toward total independence, where, in the first academic appointment, they have the opportunity to design and pursue their own research. These early ventures may be closely patterned after research found in psychological journals, with textbook designs that were practiced in graduate school. However, following publication of their first accomplishments and subsequent successes, they proceed to tackle progressively more challenging research with increasing confidence as they mature as investigators. They become less dependent on previously published research as a template and may even address unique behaviors within their culture. Proceeding along the developmental pathway driven by their motivation to succeed that has been integral to their research training, newly established investigators begin to make substantive research contributions recognized and emulated by colleagues within their country. A number of researchers in each country proceed along similar developmental pathways toward scientific maturity. Thus indigenization is not seen as something unique, but as

Indigenization and beyond

7

part of the normal developmental process; researchers applying the skills and insights they acquire as they mature to shape the discipline with increasingly more appropriate and sensitive concepts and methods. The pathway is well laid out and most progress naturally through to maturity given adequate resources and conditions. Empirical evidence regarding indigenization My social studies of science assessment of the indigenization of psychology in MW countries involved a process of measuring over time changed practices as individuals matured as researchers and coped with the fit of the discipline to their culture. In Adair et al. (1993), for example, we cataloged changes in sixty-five different dimensions within Indian research journals across fifteen years as a means of exploring the developmental pathway the indigenization process followed. For example, ratings of sensitivity to the local culture changed differentially and gradually across years in the introduction and discussion sections of research reports, in review articles, and in the translation and cultural adaptation of tests. The source, nature, and frequency of empirical research into Indian problems and behaviors changed over time, with the timing of these developments suggesting they may have resulted as much from the maturation of the discipline as from its indigenization. Insights derived from this methodology applied to research from India, Bangladesh, and Canada are reported in Adair (2006). These ratings, together with surveys of Indian and Bangladeshi psychologists (Adair et al. 1995), led me to conceptualize a stepwise developmental trajectory of discipline development that parallels and is driven by individual researcher development within each country. These stages refer to the arrival, establishment, modification, and development of the discipline as an independent science. I call these four stages: importation, implantation, indigenization, and autocthonization. The discipline of psychology within a country typically begins with someone trained abroad who returns with the imported discipline, which then becomes implanted as an academic department within universities. As the imported discipline is transformed to make it culturally appropriate, i.e., indigenized, the discipline is also shaped into an independent, selfsustaining or autocthonous discipline. The developmental process of autocthonization is similar to what Sinha (1997) called institutional indigenization, but I regard it as more than simply making institutional structures suitable to the culture. For example, accumulation of a critical mass of established researchers within a country is required to promote the national development of an autochthonous national discipline.

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John G. Adair

Internationalization Attention within MW countries has been devoted to the importation of psychology, to its indigenization, or making the discipline appropriate and sensitive to the new culture, and to its autocthonization, i.e., the establishment of a national academic discipline. But the development of individual researchers and of the national discipline do not suddenly end with these accomplishments. Indeed, research and publishing accomplishments within the country motivate the individual researchers to advance their work and to publish at the next level, that is, in prestigious journals outside the country. Universities or granting agencies often use academic promotions or even monetary rewards as incentives to publish abroad. These dynamics move the researcher and the discipline through three further stages of activity and development, a process I call internationalization. At the discipline level, these stages are as follows. (1) International presence and visibility: publications in journals of the global psychology community and presentations at international congresses make the researcher known and bring the discipline international visibility as a place where psychology has a presence. (2) International recognition and participation: initial presentations at international congresses and publications in journals within the global community bring recognition to the national discipline and to the researcher as a visible representative of his or her country. They also have the effect of opening and encouraging participation in international psychology as a new outlet for their research. International research activity will be driven by the support and collaboration of colleagues from other countries. For new and smaller national communities, international collaborative research will drive the discipline’s participation in international research. (3) International research contributor: more frequent publications abroad lead to recognition as regular participants in the international scene and as contributors to a truly international discipline. This concludes the developmental path begun with the imported discipline and with new psychologists learning how to conduct psychological research. The seemingly marginal participant in the discipline over time becomes a substantive contributor to an increasing international knowledge base. The developmental trajectory I have outlined inevitably leads to researcher and national discipline contributions to international psychology if the local resources and conditions for the science are adequate and appropriate. Among these influential local conditions that may determine whether or not international participation and contributions

Indigenization and beyond

9

will be realized are: (1) The economy, which can provide or deprive necessary resources for scientific research. (2) The world view of psychologists within the discipline, which will promote internationalization if it is global, and deter it if it is primarily regional or local. (3) A research emphasis on generalizable contributions or on local problem solutions, which may promote or inhibit contributions to the global literature. (4) An emphasis on or exclusive use of the local language, which may deter internationalization as opposed to a balanced usage of the native language accompanied by an emphasis on the language of science (English), which will encourage globalization. (5) Personal considerations, such as whether individual researchers are confident or hesitant to attempt to publish outside their home country. Empirical evidence of internationalization The remainder of this chapter will highlight some of the empirical evidence of the internationalization of psychology. One purpose of this review is to examine the extent to which the data match with the internationalization model. We will then examine, as space permits, the evidence of the movement toward a more truly international science, with a more appropriately balanced global contribution of publications from the USA, and PA and MW countries. Before concluding this chapter, we will look briefly at the progress of MW countries which have imported, indigenized, and developed the discipline, to see how successful they have been in promoting its internationalization. International presence and visibility My colleagues and I (Adair et al. 2002) initially addressed the question, “How international is psychology?” by using measures of the research and scholarship emanating from each country. Research is visible globally through two primary sources: publications and presentations at international congresses. For the latter, we created a database of all presentations at the International Congresses of Applied Psychology over the last two decades of the twentieth century (Adair et al. 2003). For the former, we assessed by country the published psychological literature indexed on PsycLIT, the electronic database of the world’s published psychological literature available to us at the time. Our conceptual model assumes that international activity or visibility occurs only after the discipline has become established in the country; the more established the discipline, the greater should be its international activity and visibility. The reverse should also hold: the extent

10

John G. Adair

of international visibility should indicate the extent or significance of psychology’s “presence” within each country and could thus be used to answer the above question. Following this logic, we combined the extent of PsycLIT entries over the previous three decades with whether there were presentations at any of the five IAAP congresses, to form an index of the presence of psychology in each country. This index indicated that psychology had a visible presence in forty-seven countries, a smaller presence in another twenty-two countries, but minimal or no presence in at least sixty-two other countries. Psychology’s presence was predominantly in North America and Europe (N ¼ 25) and in a few other English-speaking countries. Whereas this was a noteworthy accomplishment, it was not the worldwide presence that we had hoped our discipline would have achieved. We took pride in our empirical approach having provided an objective answer to the question of how international was psychology and serving as an index of international visibility, but for further research into the internationalization of psychology we needed to identify or develop a more satisfactory data source. Having mastered PsycINFO, we recognized its limitations and problems. The database has the potential for unknown content biases in the specific journals and type of literature indexed and in the amount of the literature from allied disciplines versus psychology. There are formatting problems, such as the incompleteness and inaccuracy of a number of records, and the absence of any country affiliation for 2,000 to 3,000 entries in some years. In recent years, PsycINFO has been evolving and it was unclear how these changes were impacting our data collection. If we wished to continue to use research output as an appropriate measure, we would have to develop our own database of research publications with known attributes to place us in a better position than PsycINFO had afforded us to confidently interpret the data. The new database and method We developed a database of the affiliations of all authors and co-authors for each article published in twenty-five psychology journals, systematically selected with known parameters. The database included sixteen APA or premier journals, five international journals, and four journals that were less frequently cited and hence have low-impact ratings. The APA/premier journals were published in the US, frequently cited (highimpact), and selected from four different research specialties: experimental, social, developmental, and clinical/health (four journals from each specialty), to provide added insight into where publishing changes

Indigenization and beyond

11

were occurring. These journals have been the preferred publication outlets for US-based scholars, with authors from the rest of the world expressing the difficulty, if not impossibility, of someone from their country publishing in these journals. It was expected that an increase in authors from the rest of the world publishing in these journals would provide indisputable evidence of the movement of the discipline toward internationalization, i.e., toward a more geographically-balanced international psychology. To psychologists from countries in the rest of the world, it also would provide evidence of their ability to compete with US scholars where US standards for research publication were being rigorously applied. In addition, publication trends were examined in five international journals (most sponsored by international associations) and in four “low-impact” (less frequently cited) journals. Both of these latter sets of journals are open to a range of research, and provide the opportunity for international publication from a broader set of countries. The affiliations of authors were tallied for all articles published in the first three years of each decade of the 1980s, 1990s, and 2000s, and in the period 2003– 2005 for a current assessment. Most attention will be on the data from the most current period, with the longitudinal data collection used to provide insights into any trends and the rate of change toward internationalization. But first we want to complete our look at the match of the data to our conceptual model. International collaborations The model suggested that, in countries where the discipline has become internationally visible, initial attempts to advance its development would be through international collaborations. International collaborations can be assessed through multiple-authored publications in which the authors for each article are from two or more different countries. The model predicts such collaborations should be more often initiated by and more frequent among countries in the rest of the world compared to those initiated by US psychologists. The data confirmed this prediction, with greater percentages of international collaborations first-authored by western European psychologists in all types of journal (APA 38.74, international 37.37, and low-impact 30.10 percent, respectively) compared to US authors (36.30, 25.79, and 23.30 percent, respectively). Although these percentage differences may be slight, their consistent trend across all journals away from the US domination of publication was impressive. Similarly, it is noteworthy that the percentage of first-authored international collaborations by MW psychologists (28.64 percent) in

12

John G. Adair

low-impact journals even exceeded those by US authors. Although US authors were slightly more frequently sought out as co-authors in APA journals (40.35 percent), they were less often co-authors in international journal articles (27.72 percent) than were western European psychologists (31.46 percent). In low-impact journals, co-authorship was distributed across the range of countries, from the US (33.33 percent) to western Europe (31.88 percent) and MW countries (20 percent).

Movement toward psychology as an international science Changes in international publication across decades By the 1980s, psychology had been implanted in almost all of the countries in which it currently exists, but research was dominated by US psychologists in APA/premier (84.82 percent) and low-impact journals (75.43 percent). Publications in international journals were already largely from the rest of the world, with only 44.16 percent from the US. Substantial changes in this pattern occurred over the following decades. By the 2000s, US authorship share in APA/premier journals had fallen to less than 70 percent, with the greatest rates of change within experimental journals. Clinical/health journals showed the least amount of change. There was an even greater decline in US authorship rates for low-impact journals, falling from a 75 percent share in the 1980s to approximately a 51 percent share in the 2000s. Within international journals, however, the opposite trends prevailed: authorship from the rest of the world increased from a 55 percent share in the 1980s to a 65 percent share in the 1990s and 2000s. Throughout all journals, the sharp increases for the most recent decade suggested we were possibly at the front edge of a move toward increasing internationalization and data collection was extended to a second three-year period this decade (2003–2005).

Current journals: global contributions The conceptual model predicts an increase in internationalization as a result of global publishing by a diversity of countries. Although the end goal has yet to be realized, the data are gathering consistently in the predicted direction. Current data highlight the final stage in the conceptual model: an increased internationalization was evident in a greater percentage of first-authored articles by psychologists from the rest of the

Indigenization and beyond

13

world in twelve of the twenty-five journals surveyed across the years 2003–2005. An increase in articles authored by psychologists from the rest of the world was evident within all five international journals, in three of the four low-impact journals, and in four of the APA/premier journals. These latter four journals and the percentages of articles written by authors from the rest of the world in each were: the Journal of Experimental Child Psychology (61.74 percent), JEP: Human Perception and Performance (59.39 percent), JEP: Animal Behavior (54.55 percent), and JEP: General (51.46 percent). Because of frequent vocal criticism by MW psychologists of the positivistic, experimental nature of mainstream US psychology, these findings in experimental journals were unexpected. However, because most of these authors from the rest of the world likely came from western European institutions, their publication of research using the experimental paradigm at this stage suggests that they have sufficiently mastered US psychology to enable them to compete for acceptance in such quality journals. The geographical distribution of the authorship of current publications in each journal showed that US psychologists continue to dominate first-authorships within APA journals (65.9 percent), but now first-authored less than half (46.5 percent) of the publications in lowimpact journals and an even smaller percentage of the articles in international journals. Within international journals, US authors even had proportionally fewer publications (35.3 percent) than western European psychologists (36.7 percent). MW psychologists rarely published in APA/premier journals (0.85 percent), but authored slightly larger shares of publications in low-impact (8.35 percent) and international journals (13.40 percent). The distribution of current publications by the rest of the world by geographical region and country provides a picture of research psychology outside the US. The vast majority came from western Europe (52 percent), Canada (15 percent), east Asia (11 percent), Australia and New Zealand (8 percent), and the Middle East (8 percent). Only 13 percent of the publications from the rest of the world came from MW countries, with small percentages each from Latin America, Africa, and south and southeast Asia. Less than 2 percent came from eastern European countries. Psychologically advanced countries comprise the remaining 85 percent of the rest of the world. International publications from the majority world Although the foregoing data suggest trends toward a truly international science of psychology, most MW countries have contributed little to this

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development, with the sole exception of the countries from east Asia. Although comprising only 4.8 percent of total publications in our global database, they have been consistent contributors to international psychology through the number of their publications in: APA/premier (26), international (37), and low-impact (86) journals. By comparison, publications by the other MW psychologists have infrequently appeared in APA/premier journals: Africa (1), south Asia (0), southeast Asia (3), eastern Europe (5), Latin America and the Caribbean (2), and the Middle East (2). The frequencies of publications in international journals by region have been virtually identical to their number in APA journals, except for Latin America and the Caribbean (13) and the Middle East (12), where there have been modest increases. Publications in low-impact journals were more numerous for MW countries, especially in the Middle East (132), Latin America and the Caribbean (33), and to a lesser extent in south Asia (7) and southeast Asia (5). Of fortyseven publications from Africa in low-impact journals, all but three were from South Africa. In summary, the largest number of contributions from MW countries across all types of journal have come from the four east Asian countries of Hong Kong, China, Korea, and Taiwan, and in low-impact journals from Brazil, Kuwait, Iran, South Africa, and Turkey. The remaining MW countries had few publications within the global database. Concluding observations and questions for future research There is much to be gained by psychology’s movement from a science of one country to a discipline of many. Increasing the venues in which psychology is nurtured, incubated, and developed to an advanced level increases the likelihood of intellectual enrichment and divergent contributions to the discipline. Systematic study of the changing discipline can help us to anticipate and address questions raised by these developments. What will psychologists from the rest of the world bring to the discipline that is new or different from that found in a US-dominated discipline (new topics; an expanded cited research literature; new theories; new approaches?). What effect will increasing internationalization have on US psychologists or on indigenous psychologies? When and by what criteria should we consider a MW psychology to have become a PA national discipline? Given that so much has been achieved in the movement toward internationalization over the recent decade, what are its prospects for the future? Will the rates of contributions to the discipline from the rest of

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the world and of international collaborations continue to accelerate or are there limits? Can insights on limits be found by comparing the data for publication trends within other acknowledged international disciplines such as physics with those in psychology? Can the model that so neatly links the importation of the science and its indigenization within new countries around the world through to their mature contribution to a truly international discipline of psychology be further expanded to predict the course of and limits to these other developmental processes? Further study should add to our understanding of the importance and role of local conditions for research as determinants of the orientation, participation, and productivity of a nation and its researchers. Remembering that the goal of this research is to determine our progress toward psychology becoming a truly international science, the data also provide a baseline for assessing progress. references J. G. Adair, “Creating indigenous psychologies: Insights from empirical social studies of the science of psychology,” in U. Kim, K. S. Yang, and K. K. Hwang (eds.), Indigenous and Cultural Psychology: Understanding People in Context (New York: Springer, 2006), pp. 467–85. J. G. Adair and C. ¸ Ka
gıt¸cıba¸sı (eds.), “Development of psychology in developing countries: Factors facilitating and impeding progress in developing countries,” International Journal of Psychology (Special Issue), 30 (1995), 633–753. J. G. Adair, A. M. Anguas-Plata, J. Ruthig, J. R. Luna, and M. Derksen, “ICAPindex: An index to the International Congresses of Applied Psychology,” in J. B. Overmier and J. A. Overmier (eds.), Psychology: IUPsyS Global Resource CD-ROM (New York: Psychology Press, 2003). J. G. Adair, A. Co^elho, and J. R. Luna, “How international is international psychology?” International Journal of Psychology, 37 (2002), 160–70. J. G. Adair, J. Pandey, H. A. Begum, B. N. Puhan, and N. Vohra, “Indigenization and development of the discipline: Perceptions and opinions of Indian and Bangladeshi psychologists,” Journal of Cross-Cultural Psychology, 26 (1995), 392–407. J. G. Adair, B. N. Puhan, and N. Vohra, “Indigenization of psychology: Empirical assessment of progress in Indian research,” International Journal of Psychology, 28 (1993), 149–69. D. E. Berlyne, “American and European psychology,” American Psychologist, 23 (1968), 447–52. A. T. Church and M. S. Katigbak, “Indigenization of psychology in the Philippines,” International Journal of Psychology, 37 (2002), 129–48. R. Diaz-Guerrero, Psychology of the Mexican: Culture and Personality (Austin: University of Texas Press, 1975). W. K. Gabrenya, Jr, M.-C. Kung, and L.-Y. Chen, “Understanding the Taiwan indigenous psychology movement: A sociology of science approach,” Journal of Cross-Cultural Psychology, 37 (2006), 587–622.

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R. Myers, The Twelve Who Survive: Strengthening Programmes of Early Childhood Development in the Third World (Florence, KY: Taylor & Francis/Routledge, 1992). D. Sinha, “Priorities and programmes of research in the field of psychology,” Journal of Psychological Researches, 17 (1973), 22–27. D. Sinha, Psychology in a Third World Country: The Indian Experience (New York: Sage, 1986). D. Sinha, “Indigenizing psychology,” in J. W. Berry, Y. H. Poortinga, and J. Pandey (eds.), Handbook of Cross-Cultural Psychology. Volume 1. Theory and Method (Boston, MA: Allyn & Bacon, 1997), pp. 467–85. K. S. Yang, “Indigenizing westernised Chinese psychology,” in M. H. Bond (ed.), Working at the Interface of Cultures (New York: Routledge, 1997), pp. 62–76.

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The continuing quest for psychological universals in categories, dimensions, taxonomies, and patterns of human behavior Walter J. Lonner

Cross-cultural psychological research has become increasingly influen´ bas numerous contributions examining the human tial. u´idem KatO families and the explananda that can be used in that key area of understanding the rhythms and tempo of everyday life throughout the world has been exemplary. This is but one example of a multi-faceted career that we celebrate. Just as important is her friendship that we covet.

The International Association for Cross-Cultural Psychology held its inaugural conference in 1972, at the University of Hong Kong. Jerome Bruner was chosen, honorifically and by acclamation, as its first president. He immediately yielded the position to Gustav Jahoda, who thus became the Association’s first full-term president. Invited to discuss the presentations and reports he heard during the conference, Bruner characteristically made a number of pithy observations. Of the several comments he made – about thirty-five years ago, when many believe that “organized” cross-cultural psychology was born (see Segall et al. 1998) – one is particularly relevant for this chapter: There has been one magnificent failure in cross-cultural studies and that is in the area of personality and culture. This is a splendid failure and good men and true have tried it. It is all premised on the idea that one can develop a cross-cultural index, pick out traits of the society and obtain some good chi squares that will tell about the kind of relationship between personality and culture. This has failed for the reason that if you were asked to quote the main finding from a period of twenty-five years of research that has studied the relationship between culture and personality, you would not only be tongue-tied but what you would say would eventually not be the same. (Bruner 1974: 395–96)

Thus in one stroke of his critical brush, Bruner abrogated or dismissed thousands of accumulated scholarly efforts by anthropologists, psychiatrists, psychologists, and others as dead-end sorties into a cauldron of confusion, opaque constructs, and ephemeral “causalities.” Gentleman that he is, he did not scold researchers – the “good men (sic) and true” – for 17

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this, of course. Had he done so, the scolding would have included the likes of John Honigmann, Margaret Mead, Ruth Benedict, Bronislaw Malinowski, Clyde and Florence Kluckhohn, Henry Murray, and Robert LeVine – all of whom dedicated their scholarly lives to the study of culture and personality, thereby contributing mightily to cultural anthropology and related fields, including psychology. Bruner merely voiced his opinion that nothing solid had been accomplished by trying to discern relationships between two ambiguous and complex constructs – culture and personality – both of which continue to defy precise definitions and evade rigorous criteria that might firmly validate “successful” connections between them. Bruner’s assessment was, in my opinion, overly harsh and dismissive. It deserved to be challenged, but wasn’t. It is true, however, that studies of “national character,” “modal personality,” and especially psychoanalytically-fueled analyses of culture-by-personality interactions resulted in a hodge-podge of confusing and often conflicting data and conclusions. In his comments Bruner also made a number of praiseworthy remarks about certain universals that have been found in areas such as the structure of human society, the study of languages, color terminology, and biology. His brief mention of universals was one of the factors that motivated me to write a chapter, “The search for psychological universals,” for the seminal Handbook of Cross-cultural Psychology (Lonner 1980). I will argue that there is a continuing quest for meaningful connections between culture and a host of constructs that might be found in a cluster of constructs that psychologists conveniently lump together as “personality.” There has been, in fact, a new, creative, and energetic generation of researchers who often use large banks of data and refined statistical analyses in efforts to find meaningful relationships between culture and personality (including values, beliefs, syndromes, and a host of interrelated terms suggesting some sort of logical patterning of human behavior). Ironically, more than three decades after IACCP’s inaugural meeting, at the 2004 IACCP conference in Xia’an, China, there was somewhat of a revisitation of this topic. Michael Bond (2004a) identified three stages in the development of cross-cultural psychology. He called the first stage the “flora and fauna” period. This involved gathering comparative “tidbits” of data in some non-mainstream culture and then comparing and contrasting levels of variables or identifying factor structures that may confirm or reify some construct. Bond called the second stage the “Linnaean” period of empirical mapping. This involved extracting any dimensions by which cultural groups (now national groups) may vary. This supplied “theoretical muscle,” providing useful frameworks for

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making a prior prediction. Stage three, Bond said, involved nomological networks, the understanding of patterns and syndromes, and so forth. This period of construct interrelatedness involves studying many cultural groups. Metrically-equivalent tests or measures would be needed, thus making it possible to link psychological constructs with other constructs, such as social dominance orientation, for example. In addition, general self-efficacy may be linked to social constructs or their mixture with other factors (such as affluence, religion, climate, geography, health, and death rates among other variables of interest) or psychological constructs (such as cognition, social psychological dimensions, or clinical syndromes). Bond’s recommendation was to promote and conduct more stage three studies. In this book (see Chapter 3), Bond discusses these stages, which he now calls the Aristotelian, Linnaean, and Newtonian periods. And to them he adds the “starry, starry night” expansiveness of an “Einsteinian” view of all sorts of potentially complex meaningful interactions in what could portend a cosmic explosion of creative connections. Interestingly, Bond’s views seem to validate and refine the three “eras” of cross-cultural psychology that I identified two decades earlier (Lonner 1975) and just three years after Bruner’s critical observations. I called the three eras: (1) the “era of the unfortunate protostereotype” that covered the prior period of more than thirty years – the period that provoked Bruner’s comments on the “magnificent failure” of culture and personality research; (2) the era of the “workhorse” model, during which, for example, psychologists searched for intelligence tests and personality inventories that were “culture fair,” therefore making it possible (in principle) to see patterns and certainly to make valid comparisons across cultures; and (3) the (then) emergent era of endorsing the use of multimethods (e.g., Campbell and Fiske 1959) that would permit deeper and more systematic probing into causative trends throught the use of a nomological network. The “ecological analyses” that John Berry (1976) and his colleagues were at that time conducting in numerous cultures, mainly under the aegis of Witkin’s theory of psychological differentiation, is an early example of such work. Berry (1976) wrote of the “patterning” of differentiation as well as ecological factors in the development of cognitive style (see Georgas et al. 2004), joining Triandis (1996), who wrote about “cultural syndromes.” Generally, then, we see a trend toward increasing sophistication. Matsumoto and Yoo (2006: 234) picked up on the current trend toward increased sophistication, noting that cross-cultural psychological research has evolved by “moving from documenting differences to identifying meaningful and relevant dimensions of cultural variability, and then using those dimensions in creating elegant theoretical models that

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predict and explain the documented differences.” Matsumoto and Yoo’s overview of a “new generation of cross-cultural research” built much of their review around Bond’s 2004 address, at the same time discussing six theoretical frameworks for universal dimensions of cultural variability. Ci
¸ gdem Ka
gıt¸cıba¸sı has been a mentor or collaborator for many of these researchers, especially in the area of family structures and patterns that she has studied globally. This chapter provides an overview of a number of recent attempts to find categories, dimensions, and taxonomies of meaningful human characteristics. The efforts have been impressive enough, perhaps, for them to escape icy contemporary assertions that they have been “magnificent failures” and at the same time to promote both “Stage 3” and multi-method, multi-cultural, and multi-researcher methods. Methodological and conceptual challenges and encumbrances The quests mentioned above have had to struggle with several methodological and conceptual difficulties. Chief among them was the oft-discussed emic–etic dilemma. Cross-cultural psychologists often refer to this distinction as a way to help explain not only what they do, but also how they do it. Many contemporary researchers teethed on this distinction (Berry 1969). As an “insider versus outsider debate” (Headland et al. 1990), it continues to be an important issue in nearly all cross-cultural research. The essence of this dilemma, of course, is whether psychologists should try to understand only one culture, which creates a position of radical relativism (proponents of which would likely reject such an idea as “Stage 3 studies”) or whether psychologists should search for universals, which means studying many cultures at the same time and would obviously embrace “Stage 3” rationale. Additionally, the three “isms” – absolutism, relativism, and universalism – almost always entered the early methodological debates when considering the relevancy of culture to virtually all psychological topics. Much like physicists, biologists, botanists, and other scientists, most cross-cultural psychologists tend to believe that there is a solid structure, or core, to human thought and behavior and that this structure transcends culture. These beliefs strongly suggest that cross-cultural psychologists are universalists, albeit with enough open-mindedness to consider and honor the arguments of relativists (but never the arguments of absolutists). This is an alternate way of saying that people are more similar than they are different. However, one must use caution here. Just because a certain structure might be universal does not guarantee that

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it means the same thing in all cultures. Thus, for instance, aggression (generally, the intent to hurt others) is undoubtedly universal. But what aggression means in different cultures or societies, how it is displayed, and what its consequences are, may be quite variable. Psychological categories, dimensions, and patterns of culture: A fruitful quest? Let us consider a question that has interested psychologists for a very long time: to what extent are there psychological categories, dimensions, taxonomies, and patterns of culture that are meaningful everywhere? In this context we must address a central question: how can these categories, dimensions, taxonomies, and patterns of culture be useful in applied human interaction? How can they inform policy-makers, politicians, industrial leaders, and others in the public domain with respect to intercultural contact and competence? How can they avoid being called “magnificent failures?” The remainder of this chapter will focus on a number of perspectives that culturally-oriented psychologists, as well as some anthropologists, have developed to study both intercultural and intracultural variations in personality and values and their occasional murky subcomponents. As already noted, psychologists who study such things tend to believe that there is some coherent core that underlies human personality and even values – a structure that is simply waiting to be discovered. That is, they believe that human thought and behavior is neither random nor capricious. From an applied perspective, the discovery of meaningful structures can be useful as we interact with one another in all walks of life and use our inborn social intelligence (see below) as effectively as possible. Is there a universal structure of human personality? The five-factor model McCrae et al. (1998) noted that, “throughout the European Middle Ages, the unknown corners of the world were presumed to be peopled by fabulous monsters.” This, they say, was not entirely a ridiculous presumption and asserted the following: “After all, strange animals like camels and elephants were found in the lands adjacent to Europe, and stranger animals still (like the duck-billed platypus) would someday be discovered. Monsters were consistent with medieval theology, and in the absence of first-hand experience, why should they be doubted?” (p. 171). Since the Middle Ages tremendous advances have been made in understanding and explaining various phenomena in different disciplines.

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Carl Linnaeus revolutionized the field of botany by creating a taxonomy still used today, and of course Darwin’s theory ushered in a completely different way to understand how various species evolved. Probably the most recognizable, indisputable, and universally accepted structural advancement in all of science is Mendeleev’s Periodic Table of Atomic Elements. Despite psychology’s failure to come up with a comparable magnificent guide (Emil Kraepelin’s nosological system in psychiatry, which led to various editions of the DSM may be an exception), throughout the discipline’s history there have been many attempts to discover a meaningful core of personality, or a catalogue of “personality types.” The ancient Greek idea that one’s personality is shaped by a mixture of four “humors,” or body fluids – black bile, yellow bile, blood, and phlegm – is probably the first attempt to create a typology. The numerous proponents of the Five-Factor Model (FFM) of personality strongly believe in a universalistic picture of personality. The well-known five factors are: extroversion, neuroticism, openness, agreeableness, and conscientiousness. The FFM asserts the existence of personality traits, and traits in turn are “dimensions of individual differences in tendencies to show consistent pattern of thoughts, feelings, and actions” (McCrae and Costa 1990: 23). For instance, the trait of altruism concerns helpfulness and generosity to others. And because traits are a part of a person’s make-up, they show some degree of consistency across situations. In sum, FFM researchers claim that they have discovered the basic, elementary building blocks of personality. If they are correct in asserting that the five factors are basic to human beings and that they transcend cultures and languages, then this perspective has numerous implications for everyday interaction. It would suggest that personality is not constructed independently in all cultures (relativism) but, rather, is more a matter of universal human behavior. It would also suggest that there is a specific pattern of these factors that helps to define high social, and by extension, cultural intelligence. Attempts have recently been made to determine if world geography is related to the distribution of the traits in the FFM. For instance, Allik and McCrae (2004) found that distance from the equator and mean temperature were not meaningfully related to personality factors. However, they found that proximate cultures often have similar profiles, and statistical analyses showed a clear contrast between European and American cultures and Asian and African cultures. The former were higher in extraversion and openness to experience and lower in agreeableness. One cluster of interest discussed in Allik and McCrae (ibid.) is that Spaniards, Japanese, Russians, and Belgians share a number

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of personality traits; likewise, Czechs, Germans, Hungarians, Austrians, and the Swiss form a coherent grouping of nations. The study of human values We turn now to a number of contributions that cross-cultural psychologists have made in understanding the possibility that, just as in the study of human personality, there is a coherent universal typology of human values. We shall consider the following perspectives, given in chronological order: (1) Kluckhohn and Strodtbeck’s (1961) variations in value orientations, (2) Hofstede’s work-related values (1980; 2001), and (3) Schwartz’s (2004, 2006) perspective on measuring values. Social scientists have studied values in numerous other ways (Smith and Schwartz 1997) but space constraints will not permit discussing them here. But I will comment on the study of social axioms, a recently developed perspective that is closely related to the study of values. Defining and measuring human values Just as individuals have their own values, so do collectivities. A value is generally viewed as a general and pervasive tendency to favor certain states of affairs over others. While this is a rather simple definition, it implies a configuration of features. Schwartz and Bilsky (1987) summarized these main features as follows:  Values are beliefs. But they are not objective, cold ideas. Rather, when values are activated, they become infused with feeling.  Values refer to desirable goals (e.g., equality) and to the modes of conduct that promote these goals (e.g., fairness, helpfulness).  Values transcend specific actions and situations. Obedience, for example, is relevant at work or in school, in sports or in business, with family, friends, or strangers.  Values serve as standards to guide the selection or evaluation of behavior, people, and events.  Values are ordered by importance relative to one another. The ordered set of values forms a system of value priorities. Cultures and individuals can be characterized in terms of their systems of value priorities. Kluckhohn and Strodtbeck’s perspective on values One of the most frequently-cited perspectives on human values was Florence Kluckhohn and Fred Strodtbeck’s (1961) research nearly fifty

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years ago. Using samples of individuals from rural communities in the southwest US (Texans, Mormons, Hispanics, and Zuni and Navajo Indians), they used five dimensions to classify value orientations: 1..Man–nature orientation. Man’s relation to his natural environment, mastery over, subjugation to, or harmony with nature. 2..Time orientation. One’s orientation to the past, present, or future. 3..Activity orientation. Being (enjoying one’s current existence), becoming (changing to a new existence), or engaging in activities without any change. 4..Relational orientation. Man’s relation with others in terms of the dimensions of individualism, collateral relations, or lineal/hierarchical relations. 5..Nature of man. Is man good, bad, or neither and is man mutable (changeable) or immutable (changeable)? One can immediately criticize this perspective on the basis of the narrow samples. However, this attempt to “dimensionalize” the intersection between “human nature” (which implicitly includes all people and all cultures) and values was well received and many have considered it to be a plausible universal framework. Kluckhohn was, along with Henry Murray, the author of one of the most popular quotes in the area of transcendent individual differences. In 1949, they wrote the following: every man is in certain respects (a) like all other men, (b) like some other men, and (c) like no other man. This, of course, holds for the individual, and it is a simple and assumedly eternal truth in the area of individual differences. The wisdom of this quote is also valid at the level of culture, and can be stated as follows: every culture is in certain respects (a) like all other cultures, (b) like some other cultures, and (c) like no other culture. Schwartz’s perspective on values Shalom Schwartz and numerous collaborators have studied human values on a fairly massive scale. Their data have typically been collected by using a fifty-six-item questionnaire, responded to by school teachers, university students, and others. Responses have been gathered in more than fifty countries and the pool of data is deepening. Using a variety of statistical techniques, researchers typically cluster the items into a “circumplex” of seven categories, or dimensions: conservatism, hierarchy, mastery, affective autonomy, intellectual autonomy, egalitarian commitment, and harmony. Research on the patterning of values, along with their correlates with other meaningful human dimensions,

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is currently one of the more exciting areas in cross-cultural psychology. Schwartz and others have published a large number of studies that show various interrelationships among the seven values (e.g., Schwartz 1999, 2004, 2006). Hofstede’s work-related values The most widely known perspective on human values is that of Geert Hofstede (1980, 2001). One of Hofstede’s quotes is that, “Culture is the collective programming of the mind that distinguishes the members of one group or category of people from others.” All of us, according to Hofstede, cannot help but act according to the ways that our culture has programmed us for. That is, for all of us culture is a “teacher” who has taught us how to think and act – albeit with “in-country” variations. Hofstede’s influential effort to dimensionalize the components and their variations in “culture programming” was based on a large survey database consisting of questionnaire responses regarding values and other personal characteristics of more than 100,000 people in over fifty countries. These people worked in the local subsidiaries of IBM. Using factor analysis, he conducted analyses of responses from individuals and, at a higher level of abstraction, cultures. The result is that he initially found four clusters of values that tended to distinguish cultures from one another. Later, a team of researchers largely working in Asian societies added a fifth dimension. These dimensions are Power Distance (related to the different solutions to the basic problem of human inequality); Uncertainty Avoidance (related to the level of stress in a society in the face of an unknown future); Individualism versus Collectivism (related to the integration of individuals into primary groups); Masculinity versus Femininity (related to the division of emotional roles between women and men); and Long-term versus Short-term Orientation (related to the choice of focus for people’s efforts: the future or the present and past). In the second edition of Hofstede’s Culture’s Consequences (2001) are listed more than 400 significant correlations between the IBM-based scores and the results of other studies. The “Hofstede Dimensions,” as they have become known, have generally served as a “gold standard” or as a “point of contact or reference” with other efforts to help determine correlations at the cultural level. Social axioms A recent contribution to the area of human values at the national level is the concept of social axioms. Social axioms are general beliefs that

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permeate, to varying extents, a particular culture. They may be viewed, as Bond (2004b) has argued, as “generalized expectancies,” an exceptionally popular concept introduced more than forty years ago by Julian Rotter (1966) to characterize “locus of control:” “internal” (one controls one’s own life and destiny; hard work pays off) and “external” (fate, luck, and chance control much of what happens to us; outside influences outweigh individual incentive). Leung et al. (2002) defined social axioms as “generalized beliefs about oneself, the social and physical environment, or the spiritual world, and are in the form of an assertion about the relationship between two entities or concepts” (p. 289). Using survey methodology, researchers in a number of societies have identified a “five-factor” structure of social axioms, including Cynicism (a negative view of human nature); Social Complexity (a belief in multiple ways of achieving a given outcome); Reward for Applications (a belief that effort, knowledge, and careful planning will lead to positive results); Spirituality, subsequently renamed Religiosity (a belief in the reality of a supreme being and the positive functions of religious practice); Fate Control (a belief that life events are predetermined and that there are ways for people to influence these fated outcomes). Those involved with research on social axioms propose that they are “etic” because they define each of the five dimensions in the same way across cultures. An evolutionary argument has been proposed for the existence of these five dimensions. The dimension of Cynicism is a response to the variable human capacity for deception; Fate Control, a cognitive coping response to varying levels of negative outcomes; Reward for Application, an assessment of the anticipated returns for investing in one’s physical and social environment; Social Complexity, a learned orientation toward adaptation problems typically faced in one’s society and reinforced or not by the utility of solutions achieved through divergent thinking; and Religiosity, a response to the issue of order and individual meaning of the world. As with the FFM of personality, one might assume that social (and cultural) intelligence is related to social axioms in ways that are evolutionarily adaptive. Social axioms have been correlated with a number of psychological, socio-economic, and political dimensions and indices. These efforts have been made in an attempt to help determine how the axioms manifest themselves in different societies. Similar to research done with the FiveFactor Model of personality and with Hofstede’s five work-related values, several groups of researchers have tried to classify cultures by using scatter plots of the dimensions. In general, these efforts are motivated to help determine the nature of clusters, or patterns, of societies. In theory, the construct of social axioms and related constructs proposed by others

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should somehow “fit” with other constructs at the cultural level. Patterns that have emerged thus far look promising. They certainly generate various hypotheses about how different constructs interact, and they certainly provide insight into what must be understood within and across cultures if a greater mutual understanding is to be expected. Concluding remarks This has been a necessarily brief summary of various attempts to define and measure human values, personality traits, “world views” (see Koltko-Rivera 2004, for a detailed discussion), social axioms, and other aspects of social psychology across cultures (see Smith et al. 2006). What these dimensions and categories mean both theoretically and in applied settings has been the focus of hundreds of studies. Because most of these efforts have found relatively few major factors that tend to account for much of the variance across cultures and societies, it makes sense that the results can help people across the world understand each other better. However, some cautions must be used when considering these dimensions, categories, and patterns. A primary caution is that most of the research has been done at the cultural level. That is, cultures are the unit of analysis, not individuals. See the Journal of Cross-Cultural Psychology (January, 2004) for different perspectives on “levels of cultural analysis,” and in particular the lead article in that issue (Smith 2004). Another caution that should be taken is defined at the juncture where careful methodology, nomothetic procedures, clever statistical analyses, and reductionism may clash strongly with perspectives that are more philosophical, phenomenological, idiographic, and anti-reductionistic. For example, just because someone makes a claim that there are a certain number of factors in some human characteristic (such as values, or personality) does not necessarily mean that they are real things, and the only real things at that. We should never lose sight of the fact, despite what hundreds of studies have uncovered, that the most important unit of analysis in psychology is the individual. The studies mentioned in this chapter can be, and have been, quite helpful in guiding our thinking about human interaction and human dimensions both within and across cultures. But it is the individual we must respect above all else. Their cultures have helped shaped them a great deal, but they are also unique. The views of cultural psychologists, whose research and ideas frequently overlap and sometimes clash with what their cross-cultural colleagues do, are recommended as “antidotes” (as some may call them) to the headlong psychometric rush toward “finding” categories, patterns,

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dimensions, taxonomies, and other “pigeonholes of the mind” that may make solid statistical sense but little sense in the real and extraordinarily complex world. The cultural psychologist Ernest Boesch has written extensively about what is essentially a dilemma facing psychologists who dare, as Ci
¸ gdem Ka
gıt¸cıba¸sı has, to enter other cultures in search of meaning (see Lonner and Hayes 2007). To Ci
¸ gdem’s credit, she has gained respect in both of these worlds of psychological perspective attempts to understand the workings of other cultures. She has crossed the epistemological Bosphorus, with one foot in the rigors and universalistic empiricism of the quantitative realm and the other in the flexibility and sensitive relativity required to survive in the qualitative realm. We have, criticisms notwithstanding, benefited a great deal from the increasing evidence that there is a common core of personality factors, human values, and social axioms, and that they form “patterns” or cultural syndromes (Triandis 1996). What I have summarized is by no means either a complete picture of contemporary efforts or the “last word” on the topic. It is quite possible that, twenty-five years from now, psychologists and others will paint a different picture of how to understand each other in the area of personality, values, world views, and billions upon billions of daily interactions mediated by culture. However, if we use what we now know in the most positive way, we will be able to put these categories and dimensions to the best possible use both within our own countries and beyond our borders. A final word concerns the application of these perspectives. As social animals we share a common desire to be as successful as possible during the many thousands of interactions we have in our lives. As Daniel Goleman (2006) said in his recent book, Social Intelligence, human beings are biologically “wired” to be social. Goleman’s book gives an excellent overview of the new field of social neuroscience and its exciting findings and applications. More than simply having an inborn drive to connect with our fellow human beings, we have a drive to be competent and effective when we do connect. This drive is true locally as well as globally. As an evolutionary imperative, we share a need to be as interpersonally successful as possible among people who speak different languages, worship different deities, and hold different world views. This chapter has presented a necessarily brief overview of what many psychologists do in efforts to explain some common denominators in personality, values, and other constructs that are basically the same worldwide but which may vary as people adapt to different ecologies, economies, and political structures. The overarching goal of crosscultural and cultural psychologists is to promote as much as possible the understanding of cultural variations that are formed and enhanced by

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culture. “Cultural intelligence” (e.g., Ang et al. 2006) clearly parallels Goleman’s idea of “social intelligence.” There seems little doubt that a culturally intelligent person is one who understands, and effectively acts on, the patterns, dimensions, taxonomies, and syndromes that have been the focus of so much contemporary culturally-oriented research. Such a goal has certainly been a central aspect of Ci
¸ gdem Ka
gıtc¸ ıba¸sı’s long and productive career in the psychological study of culture. references J. Allik and R. R. McCrae, “Toward a geography of personality traits: Patterns of profiles across 36 countries,” Journal of Cross-Cultural Psychology, 35 (2004), 13–28. S. Ang, L. van Dyne, and C. Koh, “Personality correlates of the four-factor model of cultural intelligence,” Group and Organization Management, 31 (2006), 100–23. J. W. Berry, “On cross-cultural comparability,” International Journal of Psychology, 4 (1969), 119–28. J. W. Berry, Human Ecology and Cognitive Style: Comparative Studies in Cultural and Psychological Adaptation (New York: Sage/Halsted, 1976). M. H. Bond, “The third stage of cross-cultural psychology: Some personal Prescriptions for our future,” paper presented at the Seventeenth International Congress of the International Association for Cross-Cultural Psychology. Xi’an, China, 2004a. M. H. Bond, “Culture-level dimensions of social axioms and their correlates across 41 countries,” Journal of Cross-Cultural Psychology, 35 (2004b), 548–70. J. Bruner, “Concluding comments and summary of conference,” in J. M. Dawson and W. J. Lonner (eds.), Readings in Cross-cultural Psychology. Proceedings of the Inaugural Meeting of the International Association for Cross-Cultural Psychology (Hong Kong: Hong Kong University Press, 1974), pp. 392–97. D. T. Campbell. and D. W. Fiske, “Convergent and discriminant validity by the multitrait–multimethod matrix,” Psychological Bulletin, 56 (1959), 81–105. J. Georgas, F. J. R. van de Vijver, and J. W. Berry, “The ecocultural framework ecocultural indices, and psychological variables in cross-cultural research,” Journal of Cross-Cultural Psychology, 35 (2004), 74–96. D. Goleman, Social Intelligence: The New Science of Human Relationships (New York: Bantam, 2006). T. N. Headland, K. L. Pike, and M. Harris, Emics and Etics: The Insider–outsider Debate (Newbury Park, CA: Sage, 1990). G. Hofstede, Culture’s Consequences: International Differences in Work-related Values (Beverly Hills, CA: Sage, 1980). G. Hofstede, Culture’s Consequences: Comparing Values, Behaviors, Institutions and Organizations across Nations (Thousand Oaks, CA: Sage, 2001). C. Kluckhohn and H. A. Murray, Personality in Nature, Society, and Culture (New York: Alfred Knopf, 1949). C. Kluckhohn and F. Strodtbeck, Variations in Value Orientations (Evanston, Illinois: Row-Peterson, 1961).

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M. E. Koltko-Rivera, “The psychology of worldviews,” Review of General Psychology, 8 (2004), 3–58. K. Leung, M. Bond, S. de Carrasquel, C. Mu~ noz, M. Hernandez, F. Murakami, S. Yamaguchi, G. Bierbrauer, and T. M. Singelis, “Social axioms: The search for universal dimensions of general beliefs about how the world functions,” Journal of Cross-Cultural Psychology, 33 (2002), 286–302. W. J. Lonner, “An analysis of the prepublication evaluation of cross-cultural manuscripts: Implications for future research,” in R. W. Brislin, S. Bochner, and W. J. Lonner (eds.), Cross-cultural Perspectives on Learning (New York: Halstead/Wiley, 1975), pp. 305–20. W. J. Lonner, “The search for psychological universals,” in H. C. Triandis and W. W. Lambert (eds.), Handbook of Cross-cultural Psychology. Volume 1. Perspectives (Boston: Allyn & Bacon, 1980), pp. 143–204. W. J. Lonner and S. A. Hayes, Discovering Cultural Psychology: A Profile and Selected Readings of Ernest E. Boesch (Charlotte, NC: Information Age Publishing, 2007). D. Matsumoto and S. H. Yoo, “Toward a new generation of cross-cultural research,” Perspectives on Psychological Science, 1(2006), 234–50. R. R. McCrae and P. T. Costa, Personality in Adulthood (New York: Guilford, 1990). R. R. McCrae, P. T. Costa, G. H. del Pilar, J.-P. Roland, and W. D. Parker, “Cross-cultural assessment of the Five-Factor Model: The revised NEO Personality Inventory,” Journal of Cross-Cultural Psychology, 29 (1998), 171–88. J. B. Rotter, “Generalized expectancies for internal versus external control of reinforcement,” Psychological Monographs, 80 (1966), 1–28. S. H. Schwartz, “Cultural value differences: Some implications for work,” Applied Psychology: An International Review, 48 (1999), 23–47. S. H. Schwartz, “Mapping and interpreting cultural differences around the world,” in H. Vinken, J. Soeters, and P. Ester (eds.), Comparing Cultures: Dimensions of Culture in a Comparative Perspective (Leiden, The Netherlands: Brill, 2004), pp. 43–73. S. H. Schwartz, “A theory of cultural value orientations: Explication and applications,” Comparative Sociology, 5 (2006), 137–82. S. Schwartz, and J. Bilsky, “Towards a psychological structure of human values,” Journal of Personality and Social Psychology, 53 (1987), 550–62. M. H. Segall, W. J. Lonner, and J. W. Berry, “Cross-cultural psychology as a scholarly discipline: On the flowering of culture in behavioral research,” American Psychologist, 54(10) (1998), 1101–10. P. B. Smith, “Nations, cultures, and individuals: New perspectives and old dilemmas,” Journal of Cross-Cultural Psychology, 35 (2004), 6–12. P. B. Smith and S. H. Schwartz, “Values,” in J. W. Berry, M. H. Segall, and C. ¸ Ka
gıt¸cıba¸sı (eds.), Handbook of Cross-cultural Psychology. Volume 3. Social Behavior and Applications, Second edition (Boston: Allyn & Bacon, 1997), pp. 77–118. P. B. Smith, M. H. Bond, and C. ¸ Ka
gıt¸cıba¸sı, Understanding Social Behavior across Cultures: Living and Working in a Changing World (Thousand Oaks, CA: Sage, 2006). H. C. Triandis, “The psychological measurement of cultural syndromes,” American Psychologist, 51(4) (1996), 407–15.

3

Circumnavigating the psychological globe: From yin and yang to starry, starry night Michael Harris Bond

Or like stout Cortez, when with eagle eyes He star’d at the Pacific – and all his men Look’d at each other with a wild surmise – ( John Keats, On First Looking into Silent, upon a peak in Darien. Chapman’s Homer)

When do I recall Ci
¸ gdem Ka
gıt¸cıba¸sı coming into my life? My first recollection is of her introducing herself to me at the Kyoto International Conference Center in 1990. “I have been reading your work, and it’s time we talked,” I recall her saying. We strolled out to the broad expanse of the quiet pond area behind the buzzing hall, and began a colleagueship that has lasted these eighteen years. One significant development in our rich relationship stands out for present purposes – Ci
¸ gdem’s intellectual autobiography that I commissioned for a collection in which some of my cross-cultural heroes considered and described how they crafted their life and career in culture (Ka
gıt¸cıba¸sı 1997). Ci
¸ gdem “crossed the Bosphorus” a decade before I crossed the Pacific, and her reflections on her “life-in-culture” provoked me then and now to rethink mine, ten years after I made my own first attempt at a career selfassessment (Bond 1997). This chapter is another step in the extended conversation I have been enjoying with Ci
¸ gdem, who is a muse for me as well as the doyen of Turkish psychology. Musings inspired by Ci
¸ gdem Ka
gıtc¸ ıba¸sı In these last few years I have found myself thinking of the twenty-fiveyear-old English poet, John Keats, lying in bed, his young life being slowly drained by tuberculosis as his fervid imagination spun out enchanting visions of worlds he would never encounter. In his “Ode to a nightingale,” he teased his impending death with images inspired by the melodies of that enchanting bird, songs that, “Charm’d magic casements, opening on the foam, of perilous seas, in faery lands forlorn.” As a teenager reading these beckoning lines, I, too, wanted to escape 31

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the fetters of my 1960s Canadian youth. At my high school, I had already encountered otherness in the form of British expatriates with their aristocratic-sounding accents, teaching poetry and strange games like cricket played with stumps and creases instead of bats and bases – how peculiar! The French presented in my language classes sounded graceful and seductive, but the German sounded sharp and clean, even when they purported to say the same things – how strange! In my spare time, I would walk the downtown streets of my native Toronto, intrigued by aromatic Greek restaurants, the colorful groceries in little Italy, the densely packed curio shops in Chinatown, the dockyards berthing merchant ships registered from Liberia, Monrovia, and Panama. Yes, how strange, but how exotic and enchanting! It seems to me in retrospect that I was hooked on culture at an early age. How fitting that the rest of my life has been spent unraveling its mysteries. As I now approach the end of my professional career in crosscultural psychology, I want to reflect on my intellectual progress over these last thirty-five years in understanding what culture is and how it operates. I have divided these reflections into three “epochs” – the Aristotelian, the Linnaean, and the Newtonian. To my mind, these stages in my thinking and approach to research seem to have emerged naturally and logically in this progression, each providing solutions to the problematics of the preceding epoch. In this personal reminiscence, I will explore my journey and discoveries as they developed out of the content issues I was exploring in my research during each of these overlapping stages in my work. Whatever insights they provide were teased out of the give-and-take of an active career doing cross-cultural research. Perhaps, then, they will be instructive for those wishing to follow in the footsteps of accomplished practitioners, like Ci
¸ gdem. I will illustrate various stages of my journey with the poetry of Keats, who died in his twenty-seventh year, the year I crossed the Pacific Ocean to begin my cross-cultural career in earnest. Perhaps my career is my answer to his unfulfilled longing to experience “faery lands forlorn,” a longing that touched me as a young man so many years ago. . . The Aristotelian epoch Round many western islands have I been Which bards in fealty to Apollo hold. ( John Keats, On First Looking into Chapman’s Homer)

My early enculturation When does the journey into culture begin? I now realize that I was immersed in culture from birth and made up by culture – the English-Canadian

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33

culture filtered through my family of origin and the public school system I encountered in multicultural Toronto. This 1950’s Toronto provided contacts with classmates whose parents had emigrated from Russia or Hungary or Israel and cooked strange foods, sang exotic songs in foreign tongues, accompanied by unusual instruments, and kissed their children as they left for school! How peculiar! These episodic contacts were, however fascinating, peripheral to my main cultural suffusion. My time on the task of culture mastery was spent weathering and coming to flourish within an English-Canadian, mid-twentieth-century variant. My cultural immersion into this umwelt was sealed when my parents borrowed money to fund my high school education at a boy’s private school modeled after a British “public” school. There we attended morning prayers, heard scriptural readings from the Christian tradition, read Dickens, learned to play cricket, were admonished to “play fair,” and to respect differences of opinion without eliminating the “loyal opposition” debating against us. My subsequent undergraduate education at Trinity College was much the same, except that I began to appreciate the historical-philosophical underpinnings of how our GraecoRoman legacy had shaped this taken-for-granted cultural reality informing and suffusing my early days. And how enormous was that legacy! This formative input was supplemented by a graduate education south of the Canadian border. It continued my basic infusion with western values, beliefs, and norms, as I continued to master the fundamentals of psychology – its methodology, statistics, history, and philosophical foundations. In time, and remaining focused on this career, I became a well socialized product of western civilization, blessed with a sound professional training and the passion to understand human behavior. Setting the stage for a career in culture Then felt I like some watcher of the skies When a new planet swims into his ken; ( John Keats, On First Looking into Chapman’s Homer)

My real cross-cultural journey began with my arrival in Japan as a cultural neophyte, Ph.D. in hand, confronting an alien social reality. There, surrounding me on a daily basis, was a people who bowed at varying angles depending on their status relative to me, entered my room apologizing for their rudeness, sat quietly in social gatherings awaiting the formal start of proceedings, would pause, suck in their breath and slowly say “musukashi” (difficult) if they disagreed with me, and required much subsequent coaxing to reveal the basis of their opposition (of course

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they would never use the word “opposition” to describe such interpersonal discussions, but rather “misunderstanding” or “confusion”). Markus and Kitayama (2003: 277) have described their own variants on the Japanese–North American social encounter with these contrasting observations: Why was it, Hazel wondered, that after weeks of lecturing in Japan to students with a good command of English, no one said anything – nothing – no questions, no comments. Even after assuring students she was interested in their ideas, and especially in ideas that were different from hers, why was there still no response? What was wrong with these Japanese students? Where were the arguments, the debates, and the signs of critical thinking? And, moreover, if you asked somebody a completely straightforward question such as “Where is the best noodle shop?” why was the answer invariably an audible intake of air followed by the response, “It depends.” Didn’t Japanese students have their own preferences, ideas, opinions, and attitudes? What is inside a head if it isn’t these kinds of things? How could you know someone if she did not tell you what she was thinking? Shinobu was curious about why students shouldn’t just listen to a lecture and asked why American students felt the need to be constantly active, to talk all the time, often interrupting each other and talking over each other and the professor? And why did the comments and questions of his fellow students reveal such strong emotions and have such a competitive edge? What was the point of this arguing? Why did intelligence seem to be associated with getting the best of another person, even within a group such as a class where people knew each other well?

The insightful analysis they then derive from such encounters, not to mention their work since their magisterial 1991 paper, would have benefited my understanding enormously had it been available in the early 1970s. Unfortunately, it was not, and probably required the next two decades of progress in cross-cultural psychology to craft. Nonetheless, their reflections above exquisitely capture the disorientation and tentativeness that besets even the most accomplished professionals when they reach out to build relationships across cultural lines. It is a strange and demanding experience (see Ci
¸ gdem’s variant on this experience, in Ka
gıt¸cıba¸sı 1997). This daily encounter with ubiquitous social difference, coupled with my need to survive it and make a living, reinforced my early focus as a social psychologist on behavior (Bond 1972). The mystery of culture lay for me in these behavioral puzzles that living in a vastly different social setting routinely provided. If the discipline of cross-cultural psychology were to be meaningful for me, it would have to explain such differences in observable interpersonal behavior (Bond 2005). Negotiating these differences was the concern of other practical people, like educators,

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35

businesspersons, and diplomats, who were indirectly paying my salary and funding my research. The tendency of us cross-culturalists to invest ourselves in understanding the minutiae of undergraduate students’ responses to verbally sophisticated questionnaires or obscure laboratory situations irked me then, as it irks me now. For me, the intricacies of perceptual and cognitive processes need only be investigated insofar as they lead us to better predict and change social behavior. Explaining differences in social behavior across cultural lines has become my litmus test of effective science, and this challenge was set early in Japan. Given the practical focus of Ci
¸ gdem’s work with Turkish families, she would find much to endorse in my evaluation of our job. Indeed, much of her inspiration for this work emerged from her own inter-cultural experiences (Ka
gıtc¸ ıba¸sı 1997). Of course, there was more to my unsettling introduction to Japanese life than social-behavioral differences. The ubiquitous flora (my first miniature maple, the exquisite momiji) and fauna (my first cockroach and lizard), food (live carp sold in the markets, dried octopus packaged as a snack, raw egg mixed with soy sauce over rice with tofu and shaved tuna for breakfast), city architecture (my first enclosed shopping malls were walked in Kobe), interior design (exquisite shoji panels separating rooms), appliances (a rice cooker and a kerosene-fueled space heater to figure out), musical instruments (the sonorous shakuhachi, a bamboo flute) and musical forms (apparent atonality), written symbols (kanji, katakana, and hiragana), and spoken language were similarly new and bewildering. I frequently found myself recalling Alice, having eaten the magic mushroom and tumbling down the rabbit hole into a bizarre but enchanting kingdom ruled by the unpredictable Queen of Hearts. Both personally and professionally, I was desperate to figure out this “otherness” and to make my way effectively through this cultural labyrinth. Armed with my own culturally derived resources and limitations, I began by investing myself as fully as possible into Japanese life, learning what Japanese language I could, consulting cultural mediators like my academic host, Ken Takeda, on daily puzzles, and by doing basic psychological comparisons between Japanese and Americans. Beginning cross-cultural research The poetry of earth is never dead . . . . . . he has never done With his delights . . . The poetry of earth is ceasing never. ( John Keats, On the Grasshopper and the Cricket)

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Michael Harris Bond

My first cross-cultural comparison was a typical piece of opportunistic “safari research” (Bond and Tornatsky 1973): true to form, a willing collaborator (me), aided by my diligent Japanese graduate students, translated a widely used paper-and-pencil questionnaire (the Rotter I-E scale), and had it administered to a captive population (university students taking social science courses). Data were then collected from an apparently equivalent American sample and statistical comparisons initiated. Achieving comparability was the first challenge, also faced by Ci
¸ gdem in her Ph.D. work on authoritarianism (Ka
gıt¸cıba¸sı 1970). I consulted the standard guide of our field at that time, Brislin et al.’s (1973) disciplinary ISO 9000, Cross-cultural Research Methods, and figured out a way by identifying equivalent factor structures for the two dimensions we had identified as running through the twenty-three-item, forcedchoice scale. Statistical contrasts were run on the data, and we then faced our next scientific challenge: how to explain our differences. Most of us early cross-cultural researchers had intimations of difference, many derived from our personal experience in the two cultures involved (see Bond 1997, for some of these revelations from the lives of established cross-culturalists). The problem was that there was little theoretical literature we could use as a basis for generating hypotheses about how these differences should align themselves and thereby be explained. There was a wealth of travelers’ notes on Japan (e.g., Lafcadio Hearn’s Japan: An Attempt at Interpretation [1904]) and the occasional analysis by social scientists (e.g., Ruth Benedict’s The Crysanthemum and the Sword [1967]), but they provided little conceptual integration. We were on our own, and our scientific weakness showed in the ex post facto appearance to our explanations. We could legitimately claim to have found difference, but found difficulty in integrating that multitude of differences we were gathering in scientifically persuasive ways. My first cross-cultural study was rejected for publication by the Journal of Cross-Cultural Psychology. Ci
¸ gdem faced the same difficulty with her early work, but was rather more successful with her initial foray into the cross-cultural literature; her work on social norms and authoritarianism was published in the premier outlet of our discipline, the Journal of Personality and Social Psychology! The Linnaean epoch Oft of one wide expanse had I been told That deep-brow’d Homer ruled as his demesne; Yet never did I breathe its pure serene Till I heard Chapman speak out loud and bold. ( John Keats, On First Looking into Chapman’s Homer)

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Extending our range My “Aristotelean” epoch was one of cataloging cross-cultural differences, first in Japan, then in Hong Kong. Given the history of our discipline and my personal circumstances, these differences inevitably contrasted North Americans with people from either Japan or Hong Kong. During this epoch, I was closely involved in producing a number of guidebooks to the psychology of the Chinese (Bond 1986, 1991, 1996). I was, however, becoming intellectually disenchanted with this cataloging enterprise, satisfying though it was professionally in other respects. For, in 1980 I had met Geert Hofstede at an IACCP conference in India, and was introduced to his four-factor model of cultural values. After returning to Hong Kong I ordered his book from Sage, and read it, as Dylan Thomas once said, “with my eyes hanging out.” Then, like Keats encountering Chapman, I became exhilarated by the prospect of a system for mapping all cultural groups, of locating any cultural group in a space defined by the coordinates of the dimensions used to define that space. I was eager to extend our cultural mapping from the yin and yang of two-cultural comparisons to the starry constellations revealed by multicultural data sets. Slowly but inexorably, the drama of two-culture comparisons paled, all differences became relative, and I became intrigued by the patterning of these many data points. How had they come to occupy these positions vis-a-vis one another, and how would their patterns change in time? Linnaeus, the father of modern taxonomy, had become my intellectual role model. First, I wanted to be more confident in the four-dimensional space of values that Hofstede had introduced. Indeed, he himself had questioned its possible cultural ethnocentrism, asking whether its comprehensiveness was compromised by its western origins. I argued that one test of his concern was to produce a value scale from a very different cultural tradition and see if it mapped the cultural world in the same way, or not. If so, then Hofstede’s concern about cultural chauvinism in survey design was misplaced, and instruments could be developed from out of any cultural tradition and yield the same roadmap. If not, then clearly the earlier work was bounded by its “culture of origin,” and would need to be enlarged to encompass all cultural groups. The answer from our twenty-two-nation study of “Chinese” values was that three of Hofstede’s original dimensions seemed culture-general. One of those adduced by the Chinese Culture Connection (1987), Confucian work dynamism, was not. Hofstede immediately revised his theory, adding a fifth dimension to his original four (Hofstede 2001).

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Michael Harris Bond

Hofstede was always explicit in reminding users of his model that his unit of analysis had been the nation, as was that of the Chinese Culture Connection (1987) and of Schwartz’s (1994) value study. It was not the individual, and social scientists should not commit the ecological fallacy by interpreting his cultural dimensions as if they were psychological constructs. Although his warning fell on many deaf ears, I wondered about this distinction and pursued the issue by searching for ways to analyze multi-cultural data sets to reveal psychological constructs. After all, I was a psychologist interested in culture, not a culturalist using data derived from individuals, then processed to yield culture scores. A cultural group’s position in value space could be determined by its relative position with respect to its typical members’ score on psychological dimensions of values derived from a multicultural analysis. Psychologists would then be happy, treading familiar ground, albeit in a “space” defined by values, not by observable behaviors. The first problem was the uncertainty of whether one could find metrically equivalent measures of psychological constructs across so many cultural groups. It had proved difficult enough with two-culture comparisons (Bond 1979); so, what about twenty-two-cultural comparisons (Bond 1988) or forty-one (Leung and Bond 2004)? This same problem of measurement equivalence at the psychological level confronted Ci
¸ gdem as well in her cross-cultural work on the value of children (e.g., Ka
gıt¸cıba¸sı 1982), and continues to beset us all who wish to compare any psychological construct across cultural groups. Fortunately, some very sophisticated techniques are now available for determining whether equivalence exists (Van de Vijver and Leung 1997), but technique does not determine outcome and we sometimes have to modify our measures before we can first obtain equivalence and then go about making valid cross-cultural comparisons. Once we established metric equivalence of our constructs at the individual level, we could proceed to map cultural groups against one another by using average scores of members from each group to create the resulting taxonomy. Bond (1988) did so for “Chinese” values; Leung and Bond (2004) did so for their five pan-cultural dimensions of belief. The results were impressive and intriguing if one had a Linnaean turn of mind. A second issue was to ask whether mapping in terms of values was the only, best, or most comprehensive way for cross-cultural psychologists to develop a taxonomy. Hofstede (1980: 20) had begun his foray into culture by highlighting values as the Rosetta Stone through which its consequences would be revealed, declaring values “a natural choice as a central construct like this which borrows from several disciplines.”

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Values have certainly enjoyed a distinguished lineage in the social sciences and Hofstede’s resulting taxonomy, like Linnaeus’ long before, had brought a measure of welcome order from a welter of particular differences. In discussions with my long-time collaborator on matters cross-cultural, Kwok Leung, we came to the intuition that cultural differences may reside more strongly and maybe more importantly in beliefs, not values. Perhaps what distinguishes cultural groups from one another more dramatically and tellingly are the belief systems they socialize their members to adopt. What makes the difference is not what is good, i.e., values, but what is true, i.e., beliefs. That intuition has spawned a decade of research examining the structure of beliefs or what we came to call “social axioms.” We now know that our original five-factor structure at the individual level of analysis (Leung et al. 2002) appears to be pan-cultural (Leung and Bond 2004). However, this five-factor solution at the individual level of analysis appears to be two-factorial at the national level of analysis (Bond et al. 2004), but that this two-factor solution only somewhat overlaps with that provided by measures of values analyzed in the same way (ibid.). These beliefs add predictive power to values in explaining political attitudes (Keung and Bond 2002) and measures of social behavior (Bond et al. 2004), but are not closely related to traditional measures of personality variation (Chen et al. 2006a) or self-construals (Chen et al. 2006b). They may be used to unpackage cultural differences in social processes, like influence strategies (Leong et al. 2006), and averaged scores on beliefs can be used to unpackage national differences in important societal outcomes, like homicide rate (Lim et al. 2005). Our belief work continues, but at this stage we feel vindicated in our original intuition that social axioms provide an additional, nonredundant approach to “taxonomizing” cultural groups in addition to that provided by the construct of values. An obvious third issue to address was what features of a cultural group’s economic, political, educational, or legal institutions were associated with the position of a typical group member’s score on that psychological construct. We needed to build nomological nets around our “citizen scores” on the various taxonomies that we were developing. Hofstede (1980) had done an exhaustive job for his nation-level scores, but we needed to do so for our individual-level scores that positioned typical individuals of one cultural group vis-a-vis others. Such associations between psychological constructs on the one hand and institutional features of the social system on the other might point the way towards the socialization processes shaping the “software of the mind.” Spurring such research forward is one scientific yield from nation-level

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Michael Harris Bond

studies such as the above research, all enabled by the results of assuming the taxonomic perspective in cross-cultural studies. The Newtonian epoch Much have I travell’d in the realms of gold, And many goodly states and kingdoms seen;

( John Keats, On First Looking into Chapman’s Homer)

For me, Newton pioneered the process approach to doing science. Its focus is on how the what that has been unearthed during the Aristotelian and Linnaean epochs may be explained. What are the sources of outcomes and the pathways they followed to reach these outcomes? Newton’s work on gravitation and its effects on planetary motion inaugurated the transition from content to process in hard science; the more work I did in cross-cultural psychology three centuries later, the more I wanted to explore how these cultural differences arose. Moving into process Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness, Close bosom-friend of the maturing sun; Conspiring with him how to load and bless With fruit the vines that round the thatch-eves run;

( John Keats, To Autumn)

The concern with unpackaging cultural differences is driven by an interest in process. Given that each group occupies a given position on some psychological variable in multicultural space, most cross-cultural psychologists are prone to wonder what are the implications of this position for the socialization practices of the cultural groups concerned and the resulting behaviors of its adult members. It is not enough to find a difference in some outcome across cultural groups and then to offer some plausible explanation of how that difference comes about. We must ask what socialization inputs combine with what temperamental dispositions to yield individual responses that vary both within a given cultural group, but also across cultural groups? Addressing this question requires that we build process models for human behavior that show how social and psychological constructs combine under the aegis of different cultural systems to produce observed differences. I wanted to begin building such process models, to explain the how of what. Studies designed to unpackage a cross-cultural difference by relating that difference to another variable associated with the cultural difference in question are first steps towards building process models. For example, Singelis et al. (1999) wanted to explain why Hong Kong Chinese were embarrassed more readily than Americans, and argued

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that embarrassability was a consequence of a person’s having weaker independent and stronger interdependent self-construals, both of which would characterize persons from Hong Kong society because of its cultural collectivism. Results showed that both independence (negatively) and interdependence (positively) did predict self-embarrassability in both groups, that Hong Kong Chinese were higher in interdependence but lower in independence than Americans, and that these differences in independence and interdependence fully explained the cultural difference found in self-embarrassability. This result confirmed our hypotheses about how socialization for competence in individualistic and collectivistic cultural systems would lead to self-orientations toward social living that would make Americans more impervious to embarrassment than Hong Kong Chinese. The socialization press from their culture of origin positioned most Hong Kong Chinese at a higher level on the predictor variable of interdependence but at a lower level on independence than most American’s culture of origin positioned them. It was these average differences in selfconstrual that resulted in the average differences across the two cultural groups in embarrassability. We had earlier begun calling this effect of culture on predictor variables in a psychological process the “culture positioning effect” (Leung and Bond 1989), and had finally found an empirical manifestation of the phenomenon. Moving from two-cultural to multi-cultural comparisons What men or gods are these? What maidens loth? What mad pursuit? What struggle to escape? What pipes and timbrels? What wild ecstasy?

( John Keats, Ode on a Grecian Urn)

It is an easy intellectual extension to move such bi-cultural demonstrations of process into multicultural demonstrations. It is, however, practically much more challenging as data collection of the constructs involved must be orchestrated in a large number of cultural locations. Such data sets are understandably rare. Early pioneers in this work were the Value of Children study (e.g., Ka
gıt¸cıba¸sı 1998) and Klaus Scherer’s thirty-seven-culture study of emotional experience (see, e.g., Scherer 1997). This latter study provided my first opportunity to examine psychological processes multiculturally. Sowan Wong Patricia RodriguezMasquera and I proposed that higher levels of felt emotional intensity would lead to greater expressivity across all thirty of the cultural groups eventually included in our multicultural sample. This simple linear

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relationship was found for the intensity of felt joy in predicting the amount of interpersonal movement shown during the joyful episodes (Wong, Bond and Rodriguez-Masquera 2008). Cultural groups differed in their levels of felt intensity in response to the emotion of joy. Whatever the factors might be that led to these differences in the experience of joy, however, the different positions of the thirty cultural groups on felt intensity of joy accounted for the different levels of interpersonal movement behavior that was found across the cultural groups. We had found the same positioning effect of culture in multicultural studies as we had earlier demonstrated with two-culture studies. Culture operates by shifting the strength of a predictor variable that works to influence a psychological outcome in the same way across different cultural systems. After increasing the number of cultures in our studies, it was inevitable that we cross-cultural psychologists would begin increasing the number of constructs involved in our process models for outcomes across cultures. So, Wong et al. (2008) hypothesized that both felt emotional intensity and the exercise of emotional control would together act to influence any observable expression of emotion. An even more complicated model was offered by Hui and Bond (unpublished manuscript, Chinese University of Hong Kong), who showed that when people negotiate with someone who harmed them, the perpetrator is more likely to offer them restitution, which in turn results in the target of the harm being more likely to forgive the perpetrator, which in turn leads to less damage in the relationship. This four-step linkage among constructs was similar across both Americans and Hong Kong Chinese, verifying a complex, pan-cultural model of relationship restoration following harm. The obvious extension of this more intellectually ambitious research is to undertake a multicultural study testing a process model involving many constructs for an outcome of interest. Despite the challenges posed by such research, it is already being conducted (e.g., Keller 2007; Matsumoto et al. 2007) and promises to become even more frequent in our discipline. Discovering the moderating effect of culture Heard melodies are sweet, but those unheard Are sweeter; therefore, ye soft pipes, play on;

(John Keats, Ode on a Grecian Urn)

Lived fully, life is never simple. Nor are the results from carefully executed studies of culture. The process models described above yielded simple X–Y associations between psychological predictors and outcomes

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that were uniform in strength across cultures. As these simple associations were being confirmed, we were also discovering variations across cultural groups in the strength of these associations. So, for example, Singelis et al. (1999) reported that, although independent self-construal was associated with a lower level of self-embarrassability, the strength of this relationship varied across the two cultural groups studied, being stronger for Caucasian Americans than for Hong Kong Chinese. More recently, similar variations in relationship strength across many more cultures have also been reported. So, in the Wong et al. (2008) study on the expression of emotions, it was found that emotional control predicted the amount of verbal activity in response to the feeling of anger. However, the strength of that association varied across the twenty-five cultural groups for which this relationship could be tested. Because there were many more than two cultures involved in Wong et al. (ibid.), it was possible to explore which feature of these cultures might be responsible for the moderation of the linkage between emotional control and verbal activity in response to anger. These moderation effects are rare in the cross-cultural literature and just beginning to be identified, so the discipline has had little experience in conceptualizing such findings, let alone predicting them a priori. However, we were buoyed by Medawar’s (1979: 16) observation that, “The great incentive to learning a new skill or supporting discipline is an urgent need to use it,” and set about speculating on how culture might work to accentuate an X–Y relationship. Naturally, our thinking was channeled by previous approaches and the available data. I had expended considerable effort studying values, and our discipline was socialized early in its brief history to conceptualize culture as values. Additionally, data derived from the Schwartz model and program of research on values was available from many cultures that overlapped with the Scherer data set. We found that a cultural group’s level of hierarchy predicted the strength of association between emotional control and the amount of verbal activity in response to the feeling of anger. We speculated that, People in hierarchy-valuing cultures are socialized to contain their verbal expression in anger-eliciting situations in order to maintain the order created by social hierarchy. It appears that the spontaneous display of verbal expression in anger-provoking situations will create social conflicts by appearing to challenge the social hierarchy. Therefore, in cultures where social hierarchy is emphasized, there is a strong connection between emotion control and verbal expression when anger is felt, whereas such a connection is not as strong in cultures where hierarchy is less stressed. (Wong et al. 2008: 228)

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Such ex post facto reasoning is easily challenged, but it is a necessary early step in our work to understand and make sense of culture’s full range of impact on the psychological outcomes we study. Earlier on, it was culture’s positioning effects and our need to make sense of data sets where culture averages for a psychological outcome varied; more and more, our explicandum will be culture’s moderating effects and our need to make sense of data sets where culture moderates the association between constructs in models explaining the processes leading to a psychological outcome. Our field is “complexifying,” driven by the availability of multi-cultural data sets, sophisticated statistical techniques for multi-level analysis and our need to tell a more persuasive, scientifically grounded story about culture. An emerging Einsteinian epoch? I cannot see what flowers are at my feet, Nor what soft incense hangs upon the boughs . . . The coming musk-rose, full of dewy wine, The murmurous haunt of flies on summer eves. ( John Keats, Ode to a Nightingale)

So, for me, culture, originally discussed as otherness using our twoculture comparisons, has now become a set of forces either positioning a culture member on the relevant social and psychological construct or a set of forces moderating the impact of the relevant social and psychological constructs on the observed psychological outcome. Metaphorically speaking, I am now contemplating a starry, starry night where there is a multitude of discernible but overlapping constellations (cultural systems), each embracing a multitude of stars (individuals who function within that fuzzy cultural system). For me, our “astronomical” job has become figuring out the life course of each star as that life emerges from the constellation of its birthplace. I am striving for an integration of personality and social psychology under the distal influence of culture. Stripped of details surrounding particular studies, this is the broad sweep of my intellectual progress in grappling so far with the concept of culture. Contemplating these last thirty-seven years of my career in cross-cultural psychology, I am wondering where we go from here? What is next? Are we on the cusp of another epoch, ready for another conceptual revolution? This is hard for me to predict, as so much of my thinking is driven by the confrontation with data sets assembled to address present concerns. However, these very data sets are changing: driven by political agendas, they are now unabashedly national in scope. Helped by electronic technology and a wider base of trained social scientists (just look at the

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gifted psychologists practicing in Turkey since Ci
¸ gdem began her lonely quest thirty-seven years ago, encouraging many of these new stars on their way!), a finer, larger net is being cast. Now, many more countries are being included in these data sets. Given recent political struggles and the resurgence of terrorism in the public’s mind, these data sets are more frequently assessing the various ethnic groups within a given polity in order to anticipate and diffuse potential problems. Data are being collected in standardized ways across time periods and tapping a teeming range of political-social-educational-religious variables responsible for the institutional socialization of citizens (see e.g., Inglehart and Oyserman 2004, and their use of the World Values Survey), enabling social scientists to chart change and to narrow the range of causal explanations. Funding is being made available for such trans-temporal, multi-national, multi-ethnic group surveys, and more social and psychological measures are being gathered from respondents. Additionally, the legacy of sophisticated theoretical offerings by which to plan and interpret these data sets is so much greater than when Ci
¸ gdem and I began practicing more than three decades ago, partly through the contributions of Ci
¸ gdem herself (e.g., Ka
gıtc¸ ıba¸sı 2005). As with my beginning in this cross-cultural journey, China and things Chinese will still figure prominently. China studies is a vibrant, expanding specialty, spanning many traditional disciplines such as political science, international relations, economics, communication, and now, psychology (Shanghai Academy of Social Sciences 2006a). Its growth is a reflection of China’s staggering growth and decisive importance for our twenty-first century (Shanghai Academy of Social Sciences 2006b). China, however, is but one national culture, embracing a host of its own cultural groups, including fifty-seven identified minorities. There are 186 nations identified by the United Nations, themselves each embracing ethnic-cultural groups. Some, like Singapore with its three designated ethnic-cultural groups, are Chinese; most are not. From a social scientific point of view, none is privileged over any other in terms of its potential role in moving us beyond two-culture comparisons into multicultural comparisons, beyond the yin and the yang into the starry, starry night. So, in our future work, I believe that we will be painting on a broader canvas, with a more varied palette of colors, across a wider timeframe. In my case, I have already begun to do so in examining collective violence across time and place (Bond 2007). I now think of culture as a more profound, less conscious influence on our behavior, requiring us social scientists to attend more closely to the social and technical skills acquired by members of a culture over repeated, daily practice. This personal

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development of social capital is socially necessary so that each of its members finds a sustaining niche somewhere in a more or less complex lattice-work of possibilities called a social system. To work with this conception of culture, we will need to develop implicit measures to more fully tap psychological processes in our cross-cultural work (see for example Hofer and Bond 2007) and to focus on the acquisition of key skills and their mastery. However, will this enlargement spur a revolution in understanding the role of culture in civilizing or debasing people? I don’t know. Perhaps I have overemphasized those features of our past work that are destined to become historical curiosities; perhaps I am missing some important elements and dynamics in the present mix that will transform our way of thinking about culture even further. If so, it will be you who have read this far who are likely to achieve it! When I have fears that I may cease to be Before my pen has gleaned my teeming brain, Before high-piled books . . . Hold like rich garners the fruit-ripened grain. . . . then on the shore Of the wide world I stand alone, and think Till Love and Fame to nothingness do sink.

( John Keats, When I Have Fears that I may Cease to Be)

Acknowledgment The author wishes to thank Peter B. Smith for his helpful comments on an earlier draft of this chapter. references R. Benedict, The Chrysanthemum and the Sword: Patterns of Japanese Culture (Cleveland, OH: Meridian, 1967). M. H. Bond, “The effect of an impression set on subsequent behavior,” Journal of Personality and Social Psychology, 24 (1972), 301–5. M. H. Bond, “Dimensions used in perceiving peers: Cross-cultural comparisons of Hong Kong, Japanese, American, and Filipino university students,” International Journal of Psychology, 14 (1979), 47–56. M. H. Bond (ed.), The Psychology of the Chinese People (Hong Kong: Oxford University Press, 1986). M. H. Bond, “Finding universal dimensions of individual variation in multicultural studies of value,” Journal of Personality and Social Psychology, 55 (1988), 1009–15. M. H. Bond, Beyond the Chinese Face: Insights from Psychology (Hong Kong: Oxford University Press, 1991). M. H. Bond (ed.), The Handbook of Chinese Psychology (Hong Kong: Oxford University Press, 1996).

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M. H. Bond (ed.), Working at the Interface of Cultures: 18 Lives in Social Science (London: Routledge, 1997). M. H. Bond, “A cultural-psychological model for explaining differences in social behavior: Positioning the belief construct,” in R. M. Sorrentino, D. Cohen, J. M. Olsen, and M. P. Zanna (eds.), Culture and Social Behavior. Volume 10 (Mahwah, NJ: Lawrence Erlbaum, 2005), pp. 31–48. M. H. Bond, “Culture and collective violence: How good people, usually men, do bad things,” in B. Drozdek and J. P. Wilson (eds.), Voices of Trauma across Cultures: Treatment of Posttraumatic States in Global Perspective (New York: Springer, 2007), pp. 31–48. M. H. Bond and L. C. Tornatsky, “Locus of control in students from Japan and the United States: Dimensions and levels of response,” Psychologia, 16 (1973), 209–13. M. H. Bond, K. Leung, A. Au, K. K. Tong, and Z. Chemonges-Nielson, “Combining social axioms with values in predicting social behaviors,” European Journal of Personality, 18 (2004), 177–91. R. W. Brislin, W. Lonner, and R. M. Thorndike, Cross-cultural Research Methods (New York: Wiley, 1973). S. X. H. Chen, M. H. Bond, and F. M. Cheung, “Personality correlates of social axioms: Are beliefs nested within personality?” Personality and Individual Differences, 40 (2006a), 509–19. S. X. H. Chen, H. K. Fok, M. H. Bond, and D. Matsumoto, “Personality and beliefs about the world revisited: Expanding the nomological network of social axioms,” Personality and Individual Differences, 41 (2006b), 201–11. Chinese Culture Connection, “Chinese values and the search for culture-free dimensions of culture,” Journal of Cross-Cultural Psychology, 18 (1987), 143–64. L. Hearn, Japan: An Attempt at Interpretation (New York: Macmillan, 1904). J. Hofer and M. H. Bond, “Do implicit motives add to our understanding of psychological and behavioral outcomes within and across cultures?,” in R. M. Sorrentino and S. Yamaguchi (eds.), The Handbook of Motivation and Cognition within and across Cultures (San Diego, CA: Elsevier/Academic Press, 2007), pp. 95–118. G. Hofstede, Culture’s Consequences: International Differences in Work-related Values (Beverly Hills, CA: Sage, 1980). G. Hofstede, Culture’s Consequences: Comparing Values, Behaviors, Institutions, and Organizations across Nations, Second edition (Thousand Oaks, CA: Sage, 2001). R. Inglehart and D. Oyserman, “Individualism, autonomy and self-expression: The human development syndrome,” in H. Vinken, J. Soeters, and P. Ester (eds.), Comparing Cultures: Dimensions of Culture in a Comparative Perspective (Leiden, The Netherlands: Brill, 2004), pp. 74–96. C. ¸ Ka
gıt¸cıba¸sı, “Social norms and authoritarianism: A Turkish–American comparison,” Journal of Personality and Social Psychology, 16 (1970), 444–51. C. ¸ Ka
gıtc¸ ıba¸sı, “Old-age security value of children: Cross-national socioeconomic evidence,” Journal of Cross-Cultural Psychology, 13 (1982), 29–42.

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C. ¸ Ka
gıtc¸ ıba¸sı, “Crossing the Bosphorus: Toward a socially relevant and culturally sensitive career in psychology,” in M. H. Bond (ed.), Working at the Interface of Cultures: 18 Lives in Social Science (London: Routledge, 1997), pp. 126–37. C. ¸ Ka
gıtc¸ ıba¸sı, “The value of children: A key to gender issues,” International Child Health, 9 (1998), 15–24. C. ¸ Ka
gıt¸cıba¸sı, “Autonomy and relatedness in cultural context: Implications for self and family,” Journal of Cross-Cultural Psychology, 36 (2005), 403–22. H. Keller, Cultures of Infancy (Mahwah, NJ: Lawrence Erlbaum, 2007). D. K. Y. Keung and M. H. Bond, “Dimensions of political attitudes and their relations with beliefs and values in Hong Kong,” Journal of Psychology in Chinese Societies, 3 (2002), 133–54. J. L. T. Leong, M. H. Bond, and P. P. Fu, “Perceived effectiveness of influence strategies in the United States and three Chinese societies,” International Journal of Cross-Cultural Management, 6 (2006), 101–20. K. Leung and M. H. Bond, “On the empirical identification of dimensions for cross-cultural comparisons,” Journal of Cross-Cultural Psychology, 20 (1989), 133–52. K. Leung and M. H. Bond, “Social axioms: A model for social beliefs in multicultural perspective,” Advances in Experimental Social Psychology, 36 (2004), 119–97. K. Leung, M. H. Bond, S. R. de Carrasquel, C. Mu~ noz, M. Hern~andez, F. Murakami, S. Yamaguchi, G. Bierbrauer, and T. M. Singelis, “Social axioms: The search for universal dimensions of general beliefs about how the world functions,” Journal of Cross-Cultural Psychology, 33 (2002), 286–302. F. Lim, M. H. Bond, and M. K. Bond, “Linking societal and psychological factors to homicide rates across nations,” Journal of Cross-Cultural Psychology, 36 (2005), 515–36. H. R. Markus and S. Kitayama, “Culture and the self: Implications for cognition, emotion, and motivation,” Psychological Review, 98 (1991), 224–53. H. R. Markus and S. Kitayama, “Culture, self, and the reality of the social,” Psychological Inquiry, 14 (2003), 277–83. D. Matsumoto, J. Nezlek, and B. Koopmann, “Evidence for universality in phenomenological emotion response system coherence,” Emotion (2007), 57–67. P. B. Medawar, Advice to a Young Scientist (New York: Basic Books, 1979). K. R. Scherer, “The role of culture in emotion-antecedent appraisal”, Journal of Personality and Social Psychology, 73 (1997), 902–22. S. H. Schwartz, “Beyond individualism and collectivism: New cultural dimensions of values,” in U. Kim, H. C. Triandis, C. ¸ Ka
gıt¸cıba¸sı, S. C. Choi, and G. Yoon (eds.), Individualism and Collectivism: Theory, Method and Applications (Thousand Oaks, CA: Sage, 1994), pp. 85–119. Shanghai Academy of Social Sciences,”The status quo and trend of China studies,” paper prepared for a roundtable discussion at the Second World Forum on China Studies, Shanghai, September 21–22 (2006a).

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Shanghai Academy of Social Sciences, China’s development and its implication for the world, keynote address presented at the Second World Forum on China Studies, Shanghai, September 21–22 (2006b). T. M. Singelis, M. H. Bond, W. F. Sharkey, and C. S. Y. Lai, “Unpackaging culture’s influence on self-esteem and embarrassability: The role of selfconstruals,” Journal of Cross-Cultural Psychology, 30 (1999), 315–41. F. J. R. Van de Vijver and K. Leung, Methods and Data Analysis for Cross-cultural Research (Thousand Oaks, CA: Sage, 1997). S. Wong, M. H. Bond, and P. M. Rodriguez Mosquera, “The influence of cultural value orientations on self-reported emotional expression across cultures,” Journal of Cross-Cultural Psychology, 39 (2008), 224–9.

4

The emerging global psychology movement: Lessons from Arab psychology1 Uwe P. Gielen

During my graduate school and early career days in the 1970s and 1980s, cross-cultural and global psychology were of marginal concern to most American (and European) psychologists. For my part, however, I considered the American psychology of the day to be highly ethnocentric in nature, in part because I had traveled widely in Europe, Asia, and Africa. So it was with great interest that, in 1990, I picked up Berman’s (1990) edited volume, Nebraska’s Symposium on Motivation 1989: Cross-cultural Perspectives. Among its prominent chapter authors, Ci
¸ gdem stood out as the only non-westerner (Ka
gıt¸cıba¸sı 1990). As a developmentally oriented social psychologist, I found her systematic way of linking cross-culturally variable family systems to equally variable socialization practices and to social change both novel and convincing – and I still do.

Years later, I had the opportunity to meet Ka
gıtc¸ ıba¸sı on a few occasions, such as the Twenty-sixth International Congress of Applied Psychology in Athens. This 2006 Congress was part of the everexpanding movement to give psychology a global rather than merely Euro-American basis. Following this tradition, my chapter outlines the status and future prospects of psychology in some of Turkey’s neighboring Arab countries. In these countries, a battle is now underway for the hearts and minds of their inhabitants, a battle that pits fundamentalist interpretations of Islam against the politically and culturally more liberal frameworks suggested by the forces of modernization. In the context of this battle, psychology supports a modernist form of sociomoral consciousness and a rational-scientific approach to improving human welfare and the functioning of society. These are important themes in Ka
gıt¸cıba¸sı’s work as well.

1

An earlier version of this chapter was presented at the Third International Conference: Social Sciences and Interdisciplinary Studies: An Integrated Perspective, College of Social Sciences, Kuwait University, December 3–5, 2006.

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The chapter asks: how can Arab psychology strengthen its presence in the emerging global psychology movement while also being of service to society? In order to answer this question in a broader global context, I initially review the history of modern scientific psychology from its early beginnings in late nineteenth-century Europe and the United States to its global diffusion today. The tasks of global psychology, I claim, are simultaneously scientific, moral, and practical in nature. Within the confines of the “majority” (developing) world, psychology has made the most significant progress in some of the East Asian and Latin American countries, with countries such as Turkey and India following not far behind. In contrast, psychology in many parts of the Arab world has not yet become sufficiently visible either at home or in the global arena. Reviewing Arab psychology from this point of view, I then outline some of its strengths and weaknesses, and conclude that Arab psychology needs to overcome several hurdles before it can exert its proper impact, both in the international arena and at home. A brief history of international psychology From its beginnings in the late nineteenth century, scientific psychology has been an international science. For instance, at the “First International Congress of Physiological Psychology” in Paris, France, in 1889, 203 psychologists and other interested persons from twenty countries were in attendance. Similarly, the founding father of experimental psychology, Wilhelm Wundt (1832–1920) supervised approximately 190 doctoral students from at least ten countries at the University of Leipzig, Germany. Nevertheless, psychology remained a predominantly European and North American science and field of practice until World War II, apart from a few scientific outposts in places such as Buenos Aires (Argentina), Tokyo ( Japan), and Calcutta (India). Following World War II, American psychology grew in strength and soon assumed the status of the only “scientific superpower” in the field. However, it steadily grew more monocultural in character and began to ignore developments occurring elsewhere, even when those took place in countries such as Austria and Germany, where psychology had been born. In the course of these developments and supported by the global American economic, military, scientific, and mass media presence, English became the language of communication among most international psychologists and successfully displaced other languages such as German, French, and Russian. By the late 1950s, probably more psychologists taught and practiced in the United States than in all other countries combined (Hogan and Vaccaro 2007; Rosenzweig 1984).

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During the last few decades, however, this situation has begun to change. Although we do not have precise estimates of the number of psychologists teaching, researching, and practicing around the world, it is likely that their number has now surpassed one million (Stevens and Gielen 2007). According to American Census figures, 277,000 psychologists were employed in the United States at the beginning of the new millennium (US Census Bureau 2003). However, the number of psychologists in Europe (including Russia and eastern Europe) is now far above 300,000 (Tikkanen 2005). Thus, as was true in the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries, there exist again two global centers of psychology: Europe and the United States. Furthermore, the number of European psychologists is growing faster than the number of American psychologists. In addition, the European Federation of Psychologists’ Associations (EFPA), which represents psychology associations in thirtyone European countries, has supported the institutionalization of comparable university training programs and professional licensing requirements in all of its member states. This ongoing process is slowly unifying European psychology while helping to strengthen its voice in the global arena. Consequently, the unique and stark predominance of American psychology in the second half of the twentieth century is now weakening, although the American Psychological Association will remain the most influential national psychology association for years to come. One might conclude from the preceding remarks that psychology remains a predominantly North American and European enterprise. However, this is not the case. Psychology has also been highly successful in some South American countries such as Argentina and Brazil, and it is becoming increasingly visible in some Asian countries. In 2003, for instance, Buenos Aires could boast of 32,976 psychologists. This constitutes the largest number of psychologists in any city of the world, New York not excepted (Klappenbach 2004). In the same year, more than 140,000 licensed psychologists practiced in Brazil, although only about 900 of them held a doctoral degree (Hutz et al. 2004). Thus, Brazil can claim far more licensed psychologists than any European country and, on a worldwide basis, it ranks second only to the US. However, because the scientific and academic base of Brazilian psychology still remains relatively weak – as may be seen, for instance, in the very low percentage of psychologists holding a doctoral degree – its worldwide impact has so far remained limited. Moreover, Argentinean psychology has largely remained wedded to psychoanalytic paradigms that are now widely regarded as possessing limited scientific value, at least in academic circles. Consequently, the very large number of South American psychologists does not correspond to the fairly modest impact they have had in

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the international arena until now. This is so because the worldwide impact of psychologists of a given country or region depends on their involvement in research oriented academic institutions, their theoretical and research creativity and productivity, and their ability to publish (in English) their ideas and research results in the major American and international professional journals. Perhaps things will be different one day, but at present this is the road to worldwide visibility in the area of psychology. Psychology is also becoming increasingly successful in several east and southeast Asian countries such as Japan, China, the Philippines, Singapore, South Korea, and Taiwan. Although the number of psychologists in Japan (20,000), China (10,000), and Taiwan lags far behind the number of psychologists in Brazil and Argentina, Japanese and Chinese psychologists have – at least in my opinion – surpassed South American psychologists in terms of rigorous scientific productivity. The growing scientific influence of China has been recognized in international psychological circles as well. For the first time, in 2004, the quadrennial International Congress of Psychologists took place in Beijing, with more than 6,300 psychologists from all around the world in attendance. Furthermore, the Chinese government has declared psychology as one of the eighteen scientific disciplines that should receive special support in the twenty-first century (Zhang and Xu 2006). China is not only emerging rapidly as a global economic powerhouse but it will also play a central role in the realm of science as the twenty-first century proceeds. Factors influencing the emergence of global psychology Today, psychology is a worldwide enterprise, although its influence varies widely across the various regions of the world. Economic factors have often influenced its emergence across the world: the richer a country is, the more likely it is that psychology plays a significant role both at its universities and in the daily lives of many of its citizens (Leung and Zhang 1995). Two additional sources of influence, partially intertwined with each other and with economic factors, are the educational level and the degree of cultural modernization predominating in a given country. This holds true especially for the upper strata of society. Whereas well-educated citizens endorsing modern forms of consciousness are likely to resort, at least partially, to psychological explanations for their own behavior as well as that of others, traditional and uneducated persons from rural areas frequently present somatic rather than psychological symptoms in counseling, therapeutic, and everyday settings

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while attempting to understand their own behavior as well as that of others in terms of both religious-supernatural and physical categories. Others may become possessed and enter altered forms of consciousness as may be seen, for instance, in the Zar cults of Sudan, Egypt, Iraq, and elsewhere (Boddy 1989). Consequently, psychologists in emerging countries are most likely to live and practice in the urban areas, regardless of cultural differences between these countries. In contrast, psychology remains largely invisible in the poorer rural areas. There, people have to struggle for survival; are more likely to be illiterate, semi-literate, or poorly educated; live in collectivistic family settings; endorse traditional belief systems; and are rarely, if ever, exposed to psychological practitioners or theories. Political and cultural factors also play an important role in the emergence and subsequent diffusion of psychology. As an example we may cite Spain. When Spain was governed by the conservative, autocratic Franco Regime (1939–75), psychology played only a fairly limited role in the country’s culture and academic life. In contrast, when, after Franco’s death in 1975, Spanish political and cultural institutions began to model themselves after the liberal democratic traditions of western Europe, psychology as a discipline began to expand at a rapid rate. In general, modern liberal democratic institutions and cultural belief systems tend to support the widespread adoption of psychology as a discipline, whereas both right-wing and left-wing totalitarian regimes and ideologies tend to constrain psychology as a profession and as a way of “being in the world.” At times, however, psychologists have adapted themselves to morally dubious authoritarian or totalitarian regimes, as could be seen, for instance, in Nazi Germany, Apartheid South Africa, the (former) German Democratic Republic, and Communist Cuba. While a melange of economic, political, historical, and cultural forces have contributed to the emergence of psychology in many parts of the world, it remains nevertheless true that, in recent decades, psychology has prospered in a wide variety of economic, socio-cultural, and political settings. Thus, we find widespread acceptance of psychology in several poor nonwestern countries such as the Philippines (Gines 2006; Montiel and Teh 2004), in present-day communist Cuba but also in the formerly communist nation of Russia, in the theocratic state of Iran (Alipour 2006; Birashk 2004) but also in the exceedingly liberal and mostly secular society of the Netherlands, and in culturally and “racially” heterogeneous Brazil with its Portuguese, general European, African, and indigenous South American roots. The increasing acceptance of psychology in these culturally, politically, and economically highly varied countries points to a paradox: while psychology needs to develop theoretical

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frameworks, methodologies, research findings, and pedagogic strategies that can prove useful across the various cultural boundaries, it also needs to constantly modify and adjust its tools and theories in order to adequately take into account the world’s endless cultural diversity. This paradox is of considerable importance for the situation of psychology in the Arab world as well. Although the impact of psychology varies by world region, together with the economic status of a nation, its cultural belief systems, political institutions, overall levels of education, degree of modernization, and exposure to the forces of westernization, we urgently need a global psychology that attempts to integrate psychological developments throughout the world while being sensitive to cultural and ecological differences. We need a psychology that can contribute to a truly universal form of consciousness and sense of responsibility – in ourselves, in our colleagues both at home and abroad, and in our students who will create the future for us all. To create a sense of global awareness and responsibility constitutes simultaneously a cognitive-emotional, moral, and practical challenge. From a cognitive-emotional point of view, it requires universal forms of empathy and “socio-cultural role-taking,” that is, the ability to put oneself into the shoes of a broad variety of other persons, to feel like they do, and to see the world through their eyes. On a global scale, such persons frequently include those of different cultural and linguistic backgrounds, social class, gender, nationality, physical appearance, religion, political opinions, and ways of life. In this sense, creating a global psychology may also be considered an ethical task. Furthermore, we need a global psychology and a universal psychological consciousness for pragmatic reasons. They are needed if humanity is to deal successfully with the difficult but inescapable global challenges laying ahead, such as: overpopulation, global warming, global pollution, worldwide shortages of and competition for raw materials, political instability and strife, stark regional and national differences in wealth, income, and economic and natural resources, and the worldwide but potentially lethal competition between religious and political ideologies. It is interesting to note in the context of this discussion of global psychology that psychologists from some developing nations such as China and Hong Kong, India, South Korea, Taiwan, and Turkey have so far had a broader global impact than most Arab psychologists. Moreover, various international psychology congresses have taken place in these countries. This indicates that psychology in the aforementioned places has not only made considerable progress but that this progress is also being recognized around the world. It also suggests that Arab psychology has so far not been as effectively presented to the international

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community as has been true for psychology in some other developing regions of the world. The role of Arab psychology in the global arena In the foregoing I briefly reviewed the global diffusion of psychology, including its expansion to most nonwestern areas of the world. In this context one may ask: where does psychology in the Arab countries fit into the global picture? Is Arab psychology visible on the international stage? Has psychology assumed an important role as part of the modernization efforts of Arab nations? How much is psychology contributing to the welfare of Arab societies and its members? While a comprehensive answer to these complex questions is well beyond the purview of this chapter, it may prove useful to review at least briefly the overall assessment of Arab psychology that distinguished scholars such as Abou-Hatab, Ahmed, Soueif, and others have given while attempting to answer them (e.g., Abou-Hatab 1993, 1997; Ahmed 2001, 2004; Ahmed and Gielen 1998; Khaleefa 1997; Sayed 2002; Soueif 1998b; Soueif and Ahmed 2001). Their conclusions are best understood in the context of some recent publication patterns in Arab and international psychology, efforts to improve communication between international psychologists and psychologists in the Middle East and North African (MENA) region, and some limitations that Arab psychologists need to overcome in their theorizing and research practices. Publications On the positive side, we find that a broad range of psychological studies have already been conducted in the Arab world. For instance, an unpublished bibliography (2008) by the Kuwait-based Egyptian psychologist Ramadan A. Ahmed lists more than 5,000 publications on Arab psychology. The bibliography, which includes publications, master’s theses, and dissertations, is probably the most comprehensive bibliography listing psychological studies published in the Arab world as well as selected psychological publications on Arab topics that have appeared elsewhere. It also includes publications reviewed earlier by the contributors to Ahmed and Gielen’s (1998) survey volume, Psychology in the Arab Countries. The 5,000 publications in the bibliography cover a wide variety of topics, especially in developmental, educational, social, cross-cultural, and abnormal-clinical psychology. In contrast, animal, physiological, and experimental psychology are less well represented. This situation is not unlike that prevailing in other developing countries

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Table 4.1. Research activity by psychologists in nineteen countries of the Middle East and North Africa

Country

Number of studies listed in PsycINFO

Jordan Iraq Egypt UAE Kuwait Lebanon Saudi Arabia Morocco Oman Sudan Bahrain Syria Algeria Somalia Tunisia Qatar Yemen Libya Djibouti

138 98 92 78 77 73 63 40 25 19 17 15 13 13 12 10 10 3 2

Total

798

Note: The information in this table is taken from Sanchez-Sosa and Riveros (2007, Table 4.5B).

and regions, including India and various African countries, where a lack of laboratory equipment and a preoccupation with the more applied areas of psychology can be commonly found (Leung and Zhang 1995). Ahmed’s bibliography may be compared to the results of a recent study by Sanchez-Sosa and Riveros (2007), who counted the number of published psychological research studies in 114 developing countries. Specifically, they summarized the frequencies of published literature (abstracts) for a five-year period by relying on the PsycINFO database of the American Psychological Association. In October 2006, PsycINFO included psychologically relevant abstracts from 2,140 journals published in numerous countries around the world (APA Online 2006). It should be pointed out in this context that PsycINFO does not take into account numerous articles published in languages other than English – thus, the data contained in Tables 4.1 and 4.2 cannot be considered representative of psychological research activities in the Arab world (or in other developing regions and countries). The data may,

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Table 4.2. Research activity by psychologists in twenty-one developing countries and the Arab World

Country/region

Number of studies listed in PsycINFO

China India Brazil

1917 835 812

19 Arab countries combined South Africa Mexico South Korea Thailand Nigeria Argentina Chile Uganda Kenya

798 738 733 550 222 214 210 160 156 155

Jordan Malaysia Philippines Tanzania Ghana Indonesia Pakistan Colombia Bangladesh

138 136 118 118 114 112 109 107 103

Notes: This table includes only those countries for which PsycINFO listed at least 100 studies for a five-year period. The 138 publications for Jordan are both included in “19 Arab countries combined,” as well as listed separately. All data reported are derived from SanchezSosa and Riveros (2007, Tables 4.1–4.6C).

however, be considered suggestive of the influence that Arab researchers and their home institutions have in the worldwide arena of psychology. Table 4.1 lists the number of psychological articles and other materials contained in the PsycINFO database that were published over a period of five years in nineteen Arab countries. The data reported in the table suggest that internationally visible research activity varies enormously from one Arab country to the next, with psychologists associated with institutions in Jordan, Iraq, Egypt, Kuwait, and Lebanon being especially active (authors were identified by their institutional affiliation and not by their nationality). It should be added that Table 4.1 does not include the rather numerous publications by Arab authors

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residing in Israel and the Palestinian Occupied Territories.It is instructive to compare the data published by Sanchez-Sosa and Riveros (2007) to those reported by Ahmed and Gielen (1998), who indicate that about 70 percent of the Arab psychological investigations published prior to 1998 were conducted by Egyptian psychologists. In contrast, SanchezSosa and Riveros list Jordan and Iraq as leading Egypt in regards to the number of psychology research publications. Furthermore, it needs to be understood that the PsycINFO database undercounts not only publications in Arabic but also those in French, a language that is sometimes used for purposes of scientific communication by psychologists in the Greater Maghreb. However, the authors list only thirteen publications for Algeria and twelve for Tunisia, over a period of five years. These small numbers point to the omission of a very significant proportion of relevant articles. It also proves instructive to compare the number of research publications in the Arab world to those associated with authors living in the most psychologically active developing nations around the world. Based again on Sanchez-Sosa and Riveros’ publication as the basic source of information, Table 4.2 reports the number of psychological research publications in selected developing countries and also compares them to the corresponding number of publications in the Arab world. The information contained in Table 4.2 suggests that psychologists in six developing nations (i.e., China, India, Brazil, South Africa, Mexico, and South Korea) are especially active in publishing internationally visible research, with China forging ahead of all the other countries. Moreover, the combined research publications of psychologists in the Arab world may be considered approximately comparable in frequency (N ¼ 798) to those of their colleagues in India (835) and Brazil (812). This is a respectable showing for Arab psychologists, given that the total population of the nineteen Arab countries amounts to approximately 320 million whereas the population of India has surpassed the one billion mark. Of the Arab countries, Jordan (138) is listed as Number 13 in Table 4.2 – an impressive result for such a small country. Moreover, no other country in the MENA region appears among the top twenty developing nations. However, Sanchez-Sosa and Riveros included neither Israel nor Turkey in their study, although it is likely that Turkish publications surpass those of most or all other countries with predominately Muslim populations. To sum up: a considerable amount of scientific psychological activity is taking place in the Arab world, although there are large variations from one nation to the next. Psychologists associated with institutions

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located in Egypt, Jordan, Lebanon, Iraq, several of the oil-producing Gulf countries, and Morocco are among the leaders in such endeavors. Few psychological activities, however, are presently taking place in some other (partially) Arab nations such as Comoros, Djibouti, Mauritania, and Somalia. International conferences Let us now continue the discussion of psychology in the Arab world by noting briefly that a number of international psychology and social science conferences have recently been held in countries such as Egypt, Kuwait, and the United Arab Emirates. A good example is the First Middle East and North Africa Regional Conference of Psychology that took place from December 13–18, 2003 in Dubai, United Arab Emirates. Significantly, the conference was held under the auspices of the International Union of Psychological Science (IUPsyS), the International Association of Applied Psychology (IAAP), and the International Association for Cross-Cultural Psychology (IACCP). High attendance, with participation from thirty-five countries including seventeen of the neighboring countries, the presence of many leaders from national psychology associations, the involvement of three of the major international psychology organizations, and a prevailing spirit of goodwill suggest that psychology may well have a promising future in the Arab world (Sabourin and Knowles 2004). This conclusion is strengthened by the positive results of the Second Middle East and North Africa Regional Conference of Psychology, which was held from 27 April to 1 May 2007 in Amman, Jordan. The conference attracted more than 150 participants from twenty-eight countries, including fifteen of the MENA countries. The twenty keynote addresses, six workshops, four round table discussions, and fifty-six individual papers included in the conference covered a broad range of issues touching upon many challenges posed by modern life (Knowles and Sabourin 2008). Taken together, the results of the two conferences just mentioned, as well as those of other regional conferences, suggest that the communication density among psychologists from the MENA countries is increasing, and that links between MENA psychologists and the broader international community are growing stronger as well. These developments are especially important because up till now the activities of national Arab psychology associations – especially those outside of Egypt – have often been limited in scope and effectiveness while varying considerably from one country to the next (R. A. Ahmed and J. M. A. Al-Khawajah, personal communication, October 2006;

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see Ahmed (2004) and Soueif and Ahmed (2001) for more information on national psychology organizations in Egypt and elsewhere). For instance, Kuwait does not yet have a national psychology association, although, over time, such an association could prove quite helpful in increasing the organizational cohesiveness, practical impact, and scientific standing of psychology in the country. Some limitations of Arab psychology In spite of the mostly positive developments noted above, commentators as varied as Ahmed, Khaleefa, Sayed, and Soueif have unanimously concluded that psychology in the Arab countries, as presently constituted, suffers from serious deficiencies that have kept it from having a broader impact both at home and abroad. Moreover, they have suggested a number of reasons why psychology has so far exerted insufficient influence both in most regions of the Arab world and abroad. These include a complex array of economic, linguistic, cultural, and political factors that, furthermore, vary from country to country. In the interest of brevity, let me mention here only four of the more immediate obstacles that have stood in the way of more rapid progress by Arab psychologists. One, Arab psychologists have only rarely pursued cumulative research programs that center on a limited number of research questions that are being investigated in depth over long periods of time. A good example of such a program is Soueif ’s long-term and large-scale investigation of drug abuse in Egypt (1998a). Other examples include Soliman’s (1989) investigations of children’s drawings, and Abdel-Khalek’s research on topics such as death anxiety and certain personality dimensions (e.g., 1998). However, many Arab psychological studies are of a sporadic nature, pursued by one researcher at a time, imitative of studies conducted in the West, and tool-oriented rather than problem-centered (Soueif 1998b). In my opinion, the use of a combination of qualitative, ethnographic, and quantitative methods by an interdisciplinary team of researchers would in many cases lead to more scientifically convincing and practically applicable results when compared to the present overuse of imported tests and scales. Two, Arab psychologists have not sufficiently indigenized their theories and research programs. In other words, they have frequently adopted the theories, research procedures, and general world view of western psychologists without sufficiently modifying them and without creating a psychology sufficiently in tune with the cultural heritage of the Arab world. In this context it might be added that, while certainly

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not all research efforts lend themselves to the process of indigenization, most topics in areas such as developmental psychology, social psychology, counseling and psychotherapy, personality, and testing should be pursued at least partially within indigenous frameworks that derive from Arab cultural traditions or at least are compatible with them. In contrast to the situation in the Arab world, psychologists in some nonwestern countries such as Taiwan, Mexico, and the Philippines have already succeeded in creating viable indigenous psychology traditions (Kim et al. 2006). Indigenization is a difficult but unavoidable major task for psychologists in the nonwestern countries since one cannot know in advance the degree to which psychological theories, findings, and practices originating in western countries are viable and appropriate in various nonwestern cultural settings. Furthermore, while the worldwide diffusion of psychology is part of the global modernization process, psychology in the nonwestern countries needs to be embedded in local traditions and belief systems so that a country does not lose its (nonwestern) soul. In other words, Arab psychology needs to grow deeper roots before it can “be regarded as a distinctive discipline dealing with the major issues that challenge practitioners in the Arab world today” (Sayed 2002: 236). Such roots are especially important in the Arab world, where the old and the new may coexist in partially unreconciled form both at the societal and individual levels, thereby potentially creating conflicts within and between persons, and within and between societies. According to Gregg’s (2005) psychocultural analysis of MENA societies, for instance, frustration with broken promises of modernization as well as internal struggles between traditional values and modern western lifestyles, especially among the younger generation, are among the major reasons for the recent turmoil in the Arab world. Three, Arab psychologists need to develop original theoretical frameworks that are subsequently tested not only at home, but also with overseas populations such as immigrants of Arab origin in various western countries. In this way, they can investigate the possible uniqueness or general validity of theories and hypotheses developed in an Arab cultural context. Additional psychological comparisons between Arab populations and respondents from both Muslim and non-Muslim populations in nonwestern countries would also be of great value. The principles and methods of cross-cultural psychology are bound to play an important role in research of this type, especially if they are combined with the more qualitative methods favored by some proponents of cultural psychology (Stead and Young 2007). Psychologists might, for instance, employ focus groups to elucidate the more collectivistic aspects of psychological functioning in Arab societies.

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Four, Arab psychologists are not sufficiently visible in the international arena, including participating in international psychology conferences, publishing in the major internationally known journals, writing books that are frequently cited in the international literature, being elected to major positions in international psychology organizations, participating in large-scale, cooperative research projects, and so on. One important reason for this situation is that Arab research studies, theories, and interpretive papers are predominantly published in Arabic. This tends to inhibit the flow of communication between psychologists in the Arab and non-Arab worlds. Furthermore, psychologists in many Arab countries experience economic hardships, suffer from insufficient access to research grants and satisfactory laboratory equipment, and carry high teaching loads. These and other detrimental conditions make it difficult for them to participate more effectively in the international arena. Nevertheless, the time seems ripe for increased international participation by Arab psychologists both in the MENA region and on a worldwide basis. Conclusion During the preceding decades psychology has become a worldwide discipline. The International Union of Psychological Science (IUPsyS) now includes seventy national psychology associations on all inhabited continents. This means, among other things, that psychology has prospered to various degrees in many nonwestern developing countries. In many of the poorest countries of Africa and the Islamic world, however, psychology still keeps a very low profile, in part because it is frequently seen as a kind of luxury in the face of the more urgent demands of economic survival, grinding poverty, and threats of political disintegration and civil war. Although psychology in the Arab countries has steadily developed as well, it has nevertheless fallen behind in relation to some other economically, politically, and culturally emerging regions of the world, especially in east Asia and Latin America. As a group, Arab psychologists need to develop more theoretical models including indigenous perspectives; engage in sustained, socially useful research programs of an interdisciplinary character; employ more qualitative and group oriented research methods such as focus groups; make better use of the already existing published and unpublished psychological, sociological, and anthropological literature on Arab persons, groups and institutions; and become more visible on the global stage. If Arab psychologists are prepared to overcome these hurdles, they will then be able to play a more

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significant role in the social and cultural development of their respective countries while also becoming linked more closely to the larger international community of psychologists. In my opinion, these are highly desirable goals. Acknowledgments I am greatly indebted to Ramadan A. Ahmed, Renee Goodstein, Jasem M. A. Al-Khawajah, and Michael J. Stevens for critically reviewing earlier drafts of this chapter. Furthermore, I had many discussions with members of the Psychology Department at Kuwait University, as well as Juris G. Draguns and Harold Takooshian, about the status of psychology in Kuwait during two site visits in, respectively, 2002 and 2006. They are in no way responsible for the opinions expressed in this chapter and whatever shortcomings it may possess. references A. M. Abdel-Khalek, “Personality,” in R. A. Ahmed and U. P. Gielen (eds.), Psychology in the Arab Countries (Menoufia, Egypt: Menoufia University Press, 1998), pp. 267–89. F. A. L. Abou-Hatab, “Psychology in the Arab world: A case study from the developing countries,” Egyptian Journal of Psychological Studies, 2(5) (1993), 1–27 (in Arabic). F. A. Abou-Hatab, “The march of psychology in the Arab world and its horizons of development,” Egyptian Journal of Psychological Studies, 6(16) (1997), 9–56 (in Arabic). R. A. Ahmed, “Psychology in the Arab world: Present status and future estimations,” in Proceedings of the 1st International Conference on Social Sciences “Social Sciences and the Development of the Society,” College of Social Sciences, Kuwait University, Kuwait, April 10–12, 2001, pp. 295–328 (in Arabic). R. A. Ahmed, “Psychology in Egypt,” in M. J. Stevens and D. Wedding (eds.), Handbook of International Psychology (New York: Brunner-Routledge/ Taylor and Francis, 2004), pp. 387–40. R. A. Ahmed and U. P. Gielen, “Introduction,” in R. A. Ahmed and U. P. Gielen (eds.), Psychology in the Arab Countries (Menoufia, Egypt: Menoufia University Press, 1998), pp. 3–4. A. Alipour, “Teaching undergraduates in the Islamic Republic of Iran,” International Journal of Psychology, 41 (2006), 35–41. APA Online, PsycINFO: Journal coverage list (www.apa.org/psycinfo/about/covlist. html), 2006. J. J. Berman (ed.), Nebraska Symposium on Motivation, 1989: Cross-cultural Perspectives (Lincoln: University of Nebraska Press, 1990).

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B. Birashk, “Psychology in Iran,” in M. J. Stevens and D. Wedding (eds.), Handbook of International Psychology (New York: Brunner-Routledge, 2004), pp. 405–18. J. Boddy, Wombs and Alien Spirits: Women, Men, and the Zar Cult in Northern Sudan (Madison, WI: University of Wisconsin Press, 1989). A. C. Gines, “Teaching undergraduate psychology in the Philippines: A summary of current programs, politics, and instruction,” International Journal of Psychology, 41(1) (2006), 51–57. G. S. Gregg, The Middle East: A Cultural Psychology (New York: Oxford University Press, 2005). J. D. Hogan and T. P. Vaccaro, “International perspectives on the history of psychology,” in M. J. Stevens and U. P. Gielen (eds.), Toward a Global Psychology: Theory, Research, Intervention, and Pedagogy (Mahwah, NJ: Lawrence Erlbaum, 2007), pp. 39–67. C. S. Hutz, S. McCarthy, and W. Gomes, “Psychology in Brazil: The road behind and the road ahead,” in M. J. Stevens and D. Wedding (eds.), Handbook of International Psychology (New York: Brunner-Routledge, 2004), pp. 151–68. C. ¸ Ka
gıtc¸ ıba¸sı, “Family and socialization in cross-cultural perspective: A model of change,” in J. J. Berman (ed.), Nebraska Symposium on Motivation, 1989: Cross-cultural Perspectives (Lincoln: University of Nebraska Press, 1990), pp. 135–200. O. Khaleefa, “The predicament of Euro-American psychology in non-western culture: A response from the Sudan,” World Psychology, 3(1–2) (1997), 29–64. U. Kim, K. -S. Yang, and K.-K. Hwang (eds.), Indigenous and Cultural Psychology: Understanding People in Context (New York: Springer, 2006). H. Klappenbach, “Psychology in Argentina,” in M. J. Stevens and D. Wedding (eds.), Handbook of International Psychology (New York: Brunner-Routledge, 2004), pp. 129–50. M. Knowles and M. Sabourin, “Psychology and modern life changes: The Second Middle East and North Africa Regional Conference of Psychology, Amman, Jordan, 2007,” International Journal of Psychology, 43 (2008), 130–39. K. Leung and J. Zhang, “Systemic considerations: Factors facilitating and impeding the development of psychology in the developing countries,” International Journal of Psychology, 30(6) (1995), 693–706. C. J. Montiel and L. P. Teh, “Psychology in the Philippines,” in M. J. Stevens and D. Wedding (eds.), Handbook of International Psychology (New York: Brunner-Routledge, 2004), pp. 467–80. M. R. Rosenzweig, “U.S. psychology and world psychology,” American Psychologist, 39 (1984), 877–84. M. Sabourin and M. Knowles, “Middle East and North Africa Regional Conference of Psychology, Dubai, United Arab Emirates,” International Journal of Psychology, 39(2) (2004), 145–52. J. J. Sanchez-Sosa and A. Riveros, “Theory, research, and practice in psychology in the developing (majority) world,” in M. J. Stevens and U. P. Gielen (eds.), Toward a Global Psychology: Theory, Research, Intervention, and Pedagogy (Mahwah, NJ: Lawrence Erlbaum, 2007), pp. 101–46.

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M. A. Sayed, “Arab psychiatry and psychology: The physician who is a philosopher and the physician who is not a philosopher: Some cultural considerations,” Social Behavior and Personality, 30(3) (2002), 235–42. S. A. Soliman, Creativity in Children (Kuwait: The Kuwaiti Society for the Advancement of Arab Childhood (in Arabic), 1989). M. I. Soueif, “Drug use, abuse, and dependence,” in R. A. Ahmed and U. P. Gielen (eds.), Psychology in the Arab Countries (Menoufia, Egypt: Menoufia University Press, 1998a), pp. 569–82. M. I. Soueif, “Conclusions,” in R. A. Ahmed and U. P. Gielen (eds.), Psychology in the Arab Countries (Menoufia, Egypt: Menoufia University Press, 1998b), pp. 569–82. M. I. Soueif and R. A. Ahmed, “Psychology in the Arab world: Past, present, and future,” International Journal of Group Tensions, 30(3) (2001), 211–40. G. B. Stead and R. A. Young, “Qualitative research methods for a global psychology,” in M. J. Stevens and U. P. Gielen (eds.), Toward a Global Psychology: Theory, Research, Practice, and Pedagogy (Mahwah, NJ: Lawrence Erlbaum, 2007), pp. 207–32. M. J. Stevens and U. P. Gielen (eds.), Toward a Global Psychology: Theory, Research, Practice, and Pedagogy (Mahwah, NJ: Lawrence Erlbaum, 2007). T. Tikkanen, “The present status and future prospects of the profession of psychologists in Europe,” paper presented to the European Congress of Psychology, Grenada, Spain (www.efpa.be/news.php?ID¼12), (2005). US Census Bureau, Statistical Abstract of the United States: 2003. Section 12: Labor Force, employment, and earnings (www.census.gov/prod/2004pubs/03statap/ labor.pdf), 2005, pp. 381–432. H. Zhang and Y. Xu, “Teaching of psychology to university students in China,” International Journal of Psychology, 41(1) (2006), 17–23.

II

Development in the family context

5

Organizing principles and processes from developmental science for culture and caregiving Marc H. Bornstein and Derya G€ ung€or

Human development is socialization, together with maturation. It encompasses the lifelong process of becoming social, becoming a member of a society. Thus, it involves constant interaction with the socio-cultural environment. Any study of human development, therefore, must have contextual and temporal dimensions. Indeed, significant trends in these directions are getting established with the rise of cultural and cross-cultural psychology on the one hand, and lifespan developmental approaches on the other. (Ka
gıt¸cıba¸sı (1996: 19)

Introduction Ci
¸ gdem Ka
gıtc¸ ıba¸sı’s (1996) Model of Family Change (MFC) provides a systematic framework to analyze dynamic intergenerational relationships with equally dynamic socio-economic conditions. The model assigns a key role to the family as mediator between culture and self. This role, through which core cultural values are handed down across generations, is not passive. Rather, the family is cast as an active agent that selectively transmits cultural values and continually adapts to changing circumstances. This chapter discusses culture, caregiving, and child development in a way intended to complement and supplement Ka
gıtc¸ ıba¸sı’s seminal contributions. Human beings do not grow up, and adults do not parent, in isolation, but in multiple contexts, and one notable context is culture. Culture infuses developmental and psychological phenomena and is inseparable from them. Culture is therefore a crucial desideratum in caregiving and child development. All societies prescribe certain characteristics that their members are expected to possess, and proscribe others they must not do, if they are to behave acceptably as members of the society (Harkness and Super 2002). Some prescriptions and proscriptions may be culturally universal; one is certainly the requirement that caregivers nurture and protect children so that they survive (at least) to 69

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reproductive age. Other standards and values vary greatly from one cultural setting to another; one is how child-rearing occurs. Whether culturally universal or specific, restraints are in place to ensure that caregivers socialize children so that each new generation acquires culturally appropriate prescribed and proscribed beliefs and behaviors. Attending to culture as an antecedent of caregiving and child development helps to address some enduring questions: How are cultural values related to caregiving cognitions and practices? What is the nature and extent of variability in normative caregiving? What are the effects on children of different cultural approaches to caregiving, both in the immediate sense and over their longer course of development? In considering these questions, it is vital to recognize that in many ways culture is the ultimate antecedent, if not determinant, of caregiving and child development. Culture, caregiver, and child in transactional view Culture Culture is a . . . set of control mechanisms – plans, recipes, rules, instructions [. . .] – for the governing of behavior. (Geertz 1973: 44)

Culture is considered by some to reflect a complex of variables, a set of separable, if related, contextual factors. For others, culture constitutes a more abstract entity of learned meanings and shared information transmitted from one generation to the next through social interaction. The concept of culture is therefore frequently used as a means of understanding relations between physical and social environments on the one hand and individual psychology on the other. Every psychological construct, structure, function, and process has cultural continuo and overtones. Cultures consist of distinctive patterns of affiliation as well as norms, ideas, values, and assumptions about life that are shared by a group of people and that guide and regulate specific behaviors and inculcate valued and adaptive competencies. Cultures change, of course, but are also stable through time to some nontrivial degree (see Figure 5.1, top row). Caregivers We may turn now to the duties . . . of parents and children. During their infancy . . . children are in the care of the mother. Children are, however, such favourites with the Andamanese that a child is played with and petted and nursed not only by his own father and mother but by everyone in the village. (Radcliffe-Brown 1932/1964: 76)

Principles and processes from developmental science

C

C

C

C

C

C

C

C

c

C

C

C

71

Time

Figure 5.1 Paths of influence among culture (top), caregiver (center), and child (bottom). Culture, caregiver, and child all change through time but also remain stable in some nontrivial degree. Each brings distinctive characteristics to every interaction and changes as a result; in consequence, each then enters the next interaction as somewhat different. Interactions between caregivers and children always take place in a cultural context. Caregiving and child development are each influenced by culture, but each also influences culture.

Parents are normally charged with responsibility for the care and development of the young in a culture. In a sense, caregivers “create” persons, as mothers and fathers (or surrogates) guide the development of children in many ways. Direct effects are most obvious. Biological parents contribute to the genetic makeup of their children and shape their children’s experiences. Notably, however, the expression of heritable traits depends, often strongly, on experience, including specific caregiver behaviors. Caregivers also influence children indirectly by virtue of one’s influence on the other and their associations with the enveloping culture. Although the development of some adaptive behaviors depends on maturation and others are acquired through formal or incidental learning, as a result of the interaction of biology and experience, all adaptations relate to their contexts of growth and are improved with constant practice and application. Different cultures distribute the responsibilities of caregiving in different ways. In the minds of many observers, mother is the principal caregiver, the role of mother universal and unique, and motherhood unequivocally primary to child development (Barnard and Solchany 2002; Georgas et al. 2006). Cross-cultural surveys attest to the primacy of biological mothers’ caregiving (Leiderman et al. 1977), even if in different times and places fathers’ social and legal claims and responsibilities on children have been preeminent (French 2002).

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In many cultures, however, young children spend time with significant others, including fathers, siblings, nonparental relatives, or nonfamilial caregivers, and the responsibility for various categories of caregiving, like nurturance, social exchange, and didactic interaction, may be distributed across diverse members of the culture. For example, mothers and fathers often interact with and care for children in complementary ways; that is, they tend to divide the labor of caregiving and engage children by emphasizing different types of interactions. In research involving both traditional American families (Belsky et al. 1984) and traditional and nontraditional (father primary caregiver) Swedish families (Lamb et al. 1982), caregiver gender was found to exert a greater influence in these respects than, say, caregiver role or employment status. Although caregiving changes in response to child development and situation, it is also stable through time in some nontrivial degree (see Figure 5.1, middle row). Holden and Miller (1999) meta-analyzed the existing literature and found that caregiver cognitions and practices are relatively stable across time, children, and situations, as well as over generations (van Ijzendoorn 1992), but caregiving also changes with respect to child and situation. These findings are consistent with Ka
gıt¸cıba¸sı’s MFC that is built on the capacity of families to adapt to and survive across caregiving contexts. Culture and caregiving Central to a concept of culture is the expectation that different peoples possess different beliefs and behave in different ways with respect to their caregiving. Ka
gıtc¸ ıba¸sı elucidated some theoretical and functional connections between culture and caregiving. Put succinctly, caregiving is culturally constructed. Caregivers in different cultures receive many different kinds of guidance about how to rear children appropriately, whether in the form of books of advice, suggestions from family and friends, or more directly in training by example. Such advice, suggestion, and training are often accepted as “basic truths” within one’s own cultural context (see Figure 5.1, top and middle rows). Cultural variation in caregiving beliefs and behaviors is always impressive. As illustrations throughout the extant cross-cultural literature attest, virtually all aspects of caregiving children are informed by culture. For example, new mothers from Australia and Lebanon expect different timetables of development in their children, and culture shapes mothers’ expectations much more than other factors, such as firsthand experiences observing children, directly comparing own children to other children, and receiving advice from friends and experts (Goodnow et al. 1984). Caregiver expectations for age of autonomy – which is a key

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73

concept in the MFC – is also culture-dependent; for example, Stewart et al. (1999) found that Asian mothers had later expectations of autonomy for their children than western mothers. One influential paradigm of the general association between culture and development suggests that cultural norms influence the development of caregiver cognitions about children, that in turn translate into caregiver practices used to attain child-rearing goals. The principal mechanisms of cultural effect are, then, caregiving cognitions and caregiving practices. Culture and caregiving cognitions Caregivers’ cognitions – their ideas, knowledge, values, goals, and attitudes – serve many functions; they generate and shape caregiver practices, mediate the effectiveness of caregiving, and help to organize caregiving (Darling and Steinberg 1993; Goodnow 2002; Holden and Buck 2002; Murphey 1992; Sigel and McGillicuddy-De Lisi 2002). Increasing interest in caregiver belief systems has focused attention on the role of culture in their formation, expression, and developmental consequences for children. Caregivers in different cultures harbor different beliefs about their own caregiving as well as about children (Bornstein et al. 1996; Goodnow 2002). In a study comparing seven cultures (Argentina, Belgium, France, Israel, Italy, Japan, and the United States), mothers evaluated their competence, satisfaction, investment, and role balance in caregiving and attributed their successes and failures in caregiving to ability, effort, mood, caregiving task difficulty, or child behavior (Bornstein et al. 1998). Systematic country differences for both self-evaluations and attributions emerged that were interpretable in terms of cultural proclivities and emphases. For example, Argentine mothers rated themselves relatively low in caregiver competence and satisfaction and attributed caregiving failures to their lack of ability. Argentine mothers’ insecurity appeared to be consistent with the relative lack of support, particularly help and advice about child-rearing, provided to them. By contrast, Belgian mothers rated themselves as quite satisfied, which might be expected in light of strong childcare support provided to parents in Belgium. Caregivers often act on culturally defined beliefs as much or more than on what their senses tell them about their children. Caregivers who believe that they can or cannot affect children’s personality or intelligence, for example, tend to modify their caregiving accordingly. Parents in Mexico promote play in children as a forum for the expression of interpersonal sensitivity, whereas parents in the US attach a cognitive value to play (Farver 1993). Thus, the ways in which caregivers interact

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with children appear to relate to their general cultural belief systems. Nonetheless, relations between socio-cultural context and caregiver goals are complex (Okagaki and Bingham 2006): Welles-Nystr€ om (1988), for example, described a high level of parental anxiety about child survival among Swedish mothers, but Swedish society is characterized by one of the lowest child mortality rates in the world. Culture and caregiving practices More salient in the phenomenology of the child are caregivers’ practices – the actual experiences caregivers provide children. Most of children’s worldly experience stems directly from interactions they have within the family, and cultural messages are commonly embedded in their daily interactions (Dunn and Brown 1991). The contents of caregiver–child interactions are dynamic, varied, and largely discretionary in human beings. Moreover, there is initially asymmetry in caregiver and child contributions to interactions and control: post-childhood, children play more active and anticipatory roles in interaction, whereas initial responsibility for adaptation in child development lies unambiguously with the caregiver (Barnard and Solchany 2002). Culture-specific caregiving practices define how caregivers’ responses (even to individual differences among children) are culturally shaped. Chen and colleagues studied Chinese and Canadian children’s behavioral inhibition, parental responses to behavioral inhibition, and children’s development (Chen et al. 1992, 1995). Both cultures have inhibited children. Mothers in each country respond differently to the same dimension in children, however, with Chinese mothers of inhibited children expressing warm and accepting attitudes, and Canadian mothers being more punitive and less accepting (Chen et al. 1998). In school, Chinese children who are shy do better academically and are rated higher by their teachers and peers, in contrast to shy Canadian children who do worse in general (Chen et al. 1995, 1999). Culture, caregiving, and child development The family system, like any system, has self-stabilizing properties . . . families stabilize around habitual patterns of interaction; thus there is continuity over time in the familial forces that support the distinctive personality patterns of individual children. (Maccoby 1984: 326)

In a larger sense, caregiving cognitions and caregiving practices contribute to the “continuity of culture” by helping to define culture and the transmission of culture across generations. Cultural variations in childrearing exert significant and differential influences over physical, mental,

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emotional, and social development of children, just as cultural variation dictates the language children eventually speak (see Figure 5.1, top, middle, and bottom rows). Whiting and Child (1953) argued that different cultural treatments link to common developmental behaviors on the presumption that consistent individual relationships mediate society-wide effects. Culture influences when and how caregivers care for children, the extent to which caregivers permit children freedom to explore, how nurturing or restrictive caregivers are, which behaviors caregivers emphasize, and so forth. For example, Japan and the US maintain reasonably similar levels of modernity, education, and living standards and both are childcentered societies, but the two differ dramatically in terms of beliefs and goals related to child-rearing (Azuma 1986; Bornstein 1989; Caudill 1973). Japanese mothers tend to expect early mastery of emotional maturity, self-control, and social courtesy in their offspring, whereas American mothers tend to expect early mastery of verbal competence and self-actualization in theirs. American mothers tend to promote autonomy and organize social interactions with their children so as to foster physical and verbal assertiveness and independence, and they promote children’s interest in the environment. By contrast, Japanese mothers tend to organize social interactions with children so as to consolidate and strengthen closeness and dependency within the dyad, and they tend to indulge young children (e.g., Bornstein et al. 1991; Cole and Dennis 1998; Doi 1973). These contrasting styles are evident, for example, in mothers’ responsiveness to infants (Bornstein et al. 1992) as well as in their play with toddlers (Tamis-LeMonda et al. 1992). Thus, cultures help to “construct” enculturated children by shaping caregiver beliefs, which in turn influence caregivers’ practices, which in turn affect children’s development (Bornstein 1991; Cole 1999; McGillicuddy-De Lisi and Subramanian 1996). For example, Cole and Tamang (1998) studied differences between Nepalese Chhetri-Brahmin and Tamang children’s ideas about emotional displays in hypothetical challenges. The authors reasoned that cultural differences related to religious traditions of Hindu versus Tibetan Buddhism would manifest themselves in caregivers’ socialization of their children’s emotional expressions. Specifically, they hypothesized that the ethos of ChhetriBrahmin life, with its emphasis on self-awareness and discipline, would be reflected in children’s early understanding of “masking” emotion; in contrast, Tamang children, reared in a more egalitarian climate that emphasizes the importance of maintaining a calm and peaceful mind, would harbor different ideas about emotional regulation and expression. Interviews with mothers showed cultural differences in preferred

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socialization practices, with most Chhetri-Brahmin mothers reporting that they taught their children about emotional display and Tamang mothers, in contrast, thinking children would learn on their own. The Tamang mothers also favored cajoling and comforting a young child who expressed anger, in contrast to reprimanding as endorsed by the Chhetri-Brahmin mothers. Differences in children’s emotion masking in hypothetical challenging situations were dramatic: a majority of the Chhetri-Brahmin children reported masking emotions, whereas virtually no Tamang children did so. The Cole and Tamang study focuses on a progression of ideas – from culture to caregiver beliefs to caregiving behaviors to the cognitions and behaviors of children. Caregiver-to-child cultural transmission The life-history of the individual is first and foremost an accommodation to the patterns and standards traditionally handed down in his community. From the moment of his birth the customs into which he is born shape his experience and behaviour. By the time he can talk, he is the little creature of his culture, and by the time he is grown and able to take part in its activities, its habits are his habits, its beliefs his beliefs, its impossibilities his impossibilities. Every child that is born into his group will share them with him, and no child born into one on the opposite side of the globe can ever achieve the thousandth part. There is no social problem it is more incumbent upon us to understand than this of the role of custom. Until we are intelligent as to its laws and varieties, the main complicating facts of human life must remain unintelligible. (Benedict 1934/1959: 2–3)

So far, developmental science has advanced only a handful of processes by which culture influences caregiving to influence child development. That is, only a few mechanisms of intergenerational cultural transfer have been identified. To understand the prominent processes through which culture is transmitted from one generation to the next, three general mechanisms – psychodynamic, learning, and cognitive – have been invoked. Psychodynamic socialization and internalization It remains a core assumption of psychoanalytic models and practice that parents respond to their children’s behavior and characteristics with expectations based on past experiences with their own primary caregiving. (Fonagy et al. 1995: 233)

Freud (1949) argued for the special importance of early experiences and early development, suggesting that the ways in which babies are treated establish lifelong personality traits. Freud proposed critical phases in development during which certain experiences – affecting specific types of

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traits – are of special and lifelong significance. Freudian concepts like the Oedipus complex were once popular in psychology and anthropology and were used, for example, to analyze family life in many societies (Cohler and Paul 2002). Among the best-known applications were Malinowski’s (1927/1966) studies of the universality of Freudian family psychodynamics, Mead’s (1935) studies of the influence of child-rearing patterns on the socialization of sex roles, and Benedict’s (1938, 1946) studies of the mechanisms by which cultural customs, beliefs, and knowledge are transmitted across generations. In more recent times, Bowlby (1969) and successive attachment theorists have proposed that, arising out of their social experiences, young children develop “internal working models” of their caregivers that incorporate both sides of the caregiver–child relationship. These representations later shape the relationships children establish with others (Sroufe and Fleeson 1986). Attachment researchers assume that, on the basis of repeated experiences of characteristic patterns of interaction, children develop expectations regarding the nature of social relationships. The correspondence between infant and caregiver attachment classification across studies is consistently high. Learning and imitation The next step in water proficiency is reached when the child begins to punt a large canoe. Early in the morning the village is alive with canoes in which the elders sit sedately on the center platforms while small children of three punt the canoes which are three or four times as long as the children are tall. . . . The father sits in casual state, . . . . The canoe is long and heavy, dug out of a solid log; the unwieldy outrigger makes it difficult to steer. At the end of the long craft, perched precariously on the thin gunwales, his tiny brown feet curved tensely to keep his hold, stands a small brown baby, manfully straining at the six foot punt in his hands. He is so small that he looks more like an unobtrusive stern ornament than like the pilot of the lumbering craft. Slowly, with a great display of energy but not too much actual progress, the canoe moves through the village, among other canoes similarly manned by the merest tots. But this is neither child labor nor idle prestige hunting on the part of the parents. It is part of the whole system by which a child is encouraged to do his physical best. (Mead 1930/1966: 29)

Learning theorists interpret development in terms of the acquisition of associations that bring information from the culture to the individual. Classical, operant, and observational learning all refer to the formation and encoding of information and are thought to constitute species-general rules. From the very beginning of life, human beings make associations and can subsequently make use of what they have learned (Bornstein

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and Lamb 2009). Moreover, early behavior patterns are believed to underlie more complex behavior patterns. Imitation is a particularly efficient mechanism for acquiring information of all sorts – just by watching or listening. Rogoff (2003) includes observational learning in her notion of “intent participation,” where observation is motivated by the expectation that, at a later time, the observer will be responsible for the action in question. Intent participation involves more experienced participants facilitating a learner’s participation and participating along with the learner, or it may involve direct verbal instruction. Cognition and scaffolding Adult caregiving figures are responsible for determining most, if not all, of young children’s experiences. Whereas psychodynamic and learning theorists depicted caregivers as molding children to function adequately in the society, contemporary evidence clearly points to roles for caregivers and children that do not imply such a unidirectional deterministic orientation. Rather, socialization and learning are interactive, bidirectional processes. Vygotsky (1978) emphasized the crucial importance of interaction with others in development. He contended that the more advanced or expert partner (the caregiver) raises the level of performance of the less advanced or expert partner (the child) through their social interaction. The difference between children’s spontaneous performance without guidance, and that observed with guidance is known as the “zone of proximal development.” Children participate actively in culturally organized activities, and in this way gain an understanding of the world they live in. As “apprentices” children must learn to think, act, and interact with all of the central characters in their culture to grow up and adapt successfully. Social participation in a culture structures a child’s reality and experience in ways that increase the likelihood that children will acquire an accurate image of their society and develop into culturally successful members of their society. Wood et al. (1976) identified the informal teaching roles adults adopt in interactions with children under the rubric of “scaffolds.” As carpenters would in constructing a building, caregivers sometimes use temporary aids to support a child’s growth. Some scaffolding strategies may be more effective than others, depending on the nature and age of the child and the actual activity, and caregivers can be expected to vary in the scaffolds they favor. Joint attention is one kind of scaffold that

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potentiates cognitively successful interactions; caregiver responsiveness appears to be another (Bornstein 2002). Sensitive caregivers tailor their scaffolding to match their children’s developmental progress, for example, by providing more appropriate learning experiences as children develop. It is important to note that thematicity (the repetition of the same idea across different mechanisms and in a variety of contexts) has special importance in cultures as organizers of behavior (Quinn and Holland 1987). Depending on caregivers’ theories of child development, they may involve children in specific activities: Latin American families emphasize family cohesion and involve children in household chores, whereas African American families encourage children’s participation in church. Moreover, the effectiveness of a given experience may depend on the culture or the activity’s process pathway. For example, certain factors or conditions facilitate cultural transmission, such as caregiver education and caregiving style (Sch€ onpflug 2001). Furthermore, whether a particular caregiving style is a cultural norm or not influences the effective transmission of values. For example, culturally congruent caregiving styles are more effective in value transmission, perhaps because culture-appropriate caregiving creates a more positive and predictable child-rearing climate that facilitates the accurate perception and, in turn, acceptance of caregiver values. This general orientation is consistent with Ka
gıt¸cıba¸sı’s MFC, which is built on the assumption that normative caregiving styles are congruent with overarching cultural values and socialization goals. However, neither culture nor family is static. Socio-economic and socio-historical changes affect the family structure, and the family continually – consciously or unconsciously – adapts to changing circumstances. Some family dynamics are more resistant to change than others. The MFC integrates universalist and culturalist approaches into the analysis of functional intergenerational relations. Ka
gıt¸cıba¸sı (1996) observed that warm, supportive caregiving is a universal, but the degree and kind of caregiver control changes from culture to culture, depending on the degree of priority awarded to autonomy and relatedness in the child. Hence, a family model of total interdependence is prevalent in traditional, rural/agrarian societies, giving rise to obedience-oriented childrearing because it is functional in this context in terms of the survival of the family. A family model of independence, that characterizes the western middle-class nuclear family, is geared to promote self-reliant and autonomous children because they have enhanced chances of meeting the demands of urbanized, specialized, and industrialized contexts.

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Conclusions Our theory holds that patterns of social behavior are learned and practiced in interaction with various types of individuals in a variety of settings. In part, the effect of culture on these patterns in childhood is a direct consequence of the settings to which children are assigned and the people who frequent them. Socializing agents orchestrate children’s participation in these learning environments by assigning children to some and proscribing others. (Whiting and Edwards 1988: 35)

How to care for children, how to rear them, how to apprentice them successfully into the culture are perennial concerns of caregivers in every society. Although much of what is known about caregiving derives from studies of caregivers from middle-socio-economic status families living in modern industrialized and western countries, particularly western Europe and the US, more earnest efforts are underway to understand the impact of culture on caregiving and child development on the larger worldwide stage because of Ci
¸ gdem Ka
gıtc¸ ıba¸sı. Cross-cultural comparisons show that virtually all aspects of caregiving children – whether beliefs or behaviors – are shaped by cultural forces. Cultures provide their members with implicit or explicit models or ethnotheories of child-rearing, including when and how to care for children, what child characteristics are desirable, which caregiving practices are accepted or expected, as well as cultural orientations toward family and childcare. Caregivers are influenced by conventionalized images of childcare, and so they seek to implement an agendum derived from culture-specific concepts. The young human child is totally dependent on caregivers for survival as well as adaptation. Whatever the cultural context, young children have many of the same biological needs and must meet and succeed at the same developmental tasks and challenges, and their caregivers have the same responsibilities to guide children to survive within and adapt to their physical and social environment and culture. It is the continuing task of caregivers to give care as well as to enculturate children by preparing them for the physical, psychosocial, and educational situations that are characteristic of the culture in which they are to survive and to thrive. Notably, caregivers everywhere appear highly motivated to carry out these tasks. For this reason, many social theorists have concluded that the family generally, and the caregiver–child relationship specifically, constitute the effective crucible for the early (and perhaps eventual) development of the individual and the continuity of culture. Theoreticians have also contended that, in greater aggregations, caregiver–child

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interactions equally well subserve evolving aspects of cultural style. The caregiver and the family are shaped by their cultural context, just as the caregiver and family shape their culture. Every culture promotes unique ways of adapting to the stringencies of its requirements, ecology, and environment and has developed traditions and ethnotheories to achieve common goals of child-rearing. As a consequence, even in the face of many shared goals, caregiving children varies dramatically across cultures. The long-standing issues of developmental science are: what are the universals of child development and childcare in our species? How do children participate in and shape the environments of their development? How do caregivers parent and organize the effective environments of childhood? What are the contributions of culture to caregiving, caregiver–child relationships, and childhood? No study of a single society (even in comparison with populations previously studied) can answer these broad questions. It is possible, however, to learn lessons from different societies that shed new light on these questions and perhaps lead to more meaningful reformulations. For example, such lessons may illuminate what the presumed universals of childcare and development are and where they obtain as well as how children’s experiences in specific cultural settings affect their development, how different settings influence caregiver beliefs and behaviors, and to what extent children’s experiences reflect early enculturation. The cultural perspective tells us about the ideals and practices of the society and how they are instantiated; the caregiver perspective provides the social and cultural context that affects those responsible for organizing childcare and development; and the child perspective provides a basis for assessing the impact of caregiving on development. Culture is not static, but rather a dynamic system that is constantly re-constructing in the context of individual lives. A developmental perspective on culture leads to greater insights into how caregivers in a variety of contexts come to think, feel, and act the way they do. We cannot fathom parenthood or childhood fully unless we know more about the multiple cultural ecologies in which caregivers parent and children develop. Cultural variation in patterns of child-rearing exert important influences on the ways in which children develop and what is expected of them as they grow. A major goal of caregiving is to connect children to the collective makeup of their culture as caregivers assist children toward the goal of achieving adaptive functioning. Given that certain situations increase children’s needs and reduce their capacities for meeting those needs, it is rewarding to reflect on how caregivers organize fundamental tasks so as to insure culturally adaptive child functioning.

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Acknowledgements This chapter summarizes selected aspects of our research, and portions of the text have appeared in previous scientific publications cited in the references. Research was supported by the Intramural Research Program of the NIH, NICHD. references H. Azuma, “Why study child development in Japan?” in H. Stevenson, H. Azuma, and K. Hakuta (eds.), Child Development and Education in Japan (New York: W. H. Freeman, 1986), pp. 3–12. K. E. Barnard and J. E. Solchany, “Mothering,” in M. H. Bornstein (ed.), Handbook of Parenting. Volume 3. Status and Social Conditions of Parenting, Second edition (Mahwah, NJ: Lawrence Erlbaum, 2002), pp. 3–25. J. Belsky, B. Gilstrap, and M. Rovine, “The Pennsylvania infant and family development project, I: Stability and change in mother–infant and father– infant interaction in a family setting at one, three, and nine months,” Child Development, 55 (1984), 692–705. R. Benedict, Patterns of Culture (Boston, MA: Houghton Mifflin, 1934/1959). R. Benedict, “Continuities and discontinuities in cultural-conditioning,” Psychiatry, 1 (1938), 161–67. R. Benedict, The Chrysanthemum and the Sword: Patterns of Japanese Culture (Boston, MA: Houghton Mifflin, 1946). M. H. Bornstein, “Cross-cultural developmental comparisons: The case of Japanese-American infant and mother activities and interactions. What we know, what we need to know, and why we need to know,” Developmental Review, 9 (1989), 171–204. M. H. Bornstein, “Approaches to parenting in culture,” in M. H. Bornstein (ed.), Cultural Approaches to Parenting (Hillsdale, NJ: Erlbaum, 1991). M. H. Bornstein, “Parenting infants,” in M. H. Bornstein (ed.), Handbook of Parenting (Mahwah, NJ: Lawrence Erlbaum, 2002), pp. 3–43. M. H. Bornstein and M. E. Lamb, Development in Infancy: An Introduction, Fifth edition (Mahwah, NJ: Lawrence Erlbaum, 2008). M. H. Bornstein, O. M. Haynes, H. Azuma, C. Galperin, S. Maital, M. Ogino, K. Painter, L. Pascual, M.-G. P^echeux, Rahn, S. Toda, P. Venuti, A. Vyt, and B. Wright, “A cross-national study of self-evaluations and attributions in parenting: Argentina, Belgium, France, Israel, Italy, Japan, and the United States,” Developmental Psychology, 34 (1998), 662–76. M. H. Bornstein, J. Tal, and C. S. Tamis-Lemonda, “Parenting in cross-cultural perspective: The United States, France, and Japan,” in M. H. Bornstein (ed.), Cultural Approaches to Parenting (Hillsdale, NJ: Lawrence Erlbaum, 1991), pp. 69–90. M. H. Bornstein, C. S. Tamis-LeMonda, L. Pascual, O. M. Haynes, K. Painter, C. Galperın, and M.-G. P^echeux, “Ideas about parenting in Argentina, France, and the United States,” International Journal of Behavioral Development, 19 (1996), 347–67.

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6

A social change and human development perspective on the value of children1 Gisela Trommsdorff

For many years, Ci
¸ gdem Ka
gıt¸cıba¸sı has played a prominent role in cross-cultural developmental psychology; she has influenced my own research in this field through her writings and presentations, and by personal exchange. During various meetings she contributed to our joint efforts to make the ongoing Value of Children study possible, and her commitment to cross-cultural research was always a model and an intellectual and motivational encouragement.

Introduction The Value of Children study continues to be Ka
gıtc¸ ıba¸sı’s most valued contribution and has recently gained significant new relevance. At present, we can observe a worldwide sociodemographic change that is leading to a reduction in fertility and an increase in longevity in most parts of the world, while the world population is still rising. This phenomenon has, 1

This research was supported by a grant from the German National Science Foundation (Deutsche Forschungsgemeinschaft) for the Value of Children and Intergenerational Relations study (principal investigators: Gisela Trommsdorff, University of Konstanz, Germany, and Bernhard Nauck, Chemnitz, University of Technology, Germany). I am grateful to Isabelle Albert, Boris Mayer, and Holly Bunje for their valuable comments on an earlier version, and to Alexandru Agache for the analysis of the VOC data and variables on the country level (see the “Value of children in relation to macro-level variables” section). We are grateful to the cooperating teams who have collected the VOC data in the respective countries. The team leaders are: India: Ramesh Mishra, Benares University, Varanasi; Indonesia: Lieke Wisnubrata, S. Marat, K. Setiono, and P. Nelwan; Israel: Asher Ben-Arieh and Muhammad M. Haj-Yahia, The Hebrew University of Jerusalem; France: Colette Sabatier and Lyda Lannegrand-Willems, University Victor Segalen, Bordeaux; Germany: Bernhard Nauck and Gisela Trommsdorff; Japan: Chiaki Yamada-Napoli, as part of her thesis in psychology under the guidance of Professor Colette Sabatier, University Victor Segalen, Bordeaux (independent from the JSPS-financed VOC project with Makoto Kobayashi as PI which started at a later date); People’s Republic of China: Gang Zheng, Shaohua Shi, and Hong Tang, Academy of Sciences, Bejing; Republic of Korea: Uichol Kim, Young-Shin Park, and Young-Eun Kwon, Inha University; South Africa: Karl Peltzer, Human Sciences Research Council, Cape Town; Turkey: Bilge Ataca, Bogazici University & Ci
¸ gdem Ka
gıt¸cıba¸sı, Koc¸ _ University, Istanbul.

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among other questions, stimulated debates about problems of intergenerational relations. One consequence of interest for developmental psychologists is that parents will share an increasing lifetime with their children; related effects on the quality of parent–child relationships over the lifespan are not yet known. In the 1970s, fear of overpopulation prevailed due to high fertility rates in the poorest countries of the world. This stimulated research on antecedents of demographic changes, such as the famous Value of Children study (Arnold et al. 1975; Fawcett 1972). The original Value of Children study in the 1970s was initiated by the concern of demographers and economists about overpopulation in several parts of the world. Since economic explanations turned out to have limited power, the psychological concept of value of children was introduced (Hoffman 1987: 159; Hoffman and Manis 1982: 143). Ci
¸ gdem Ka
gıtc¸ ıba¸sı contributed to this international comparative study with theoretical innovations that had a long-term impact on psychological studies on social change and human development. First, she made clear that the traditional approach by economists assuming direct links between economic productivity and individual behavior (fertility) does not hold; mediating factors such as value orientations should not be ignored. The positive or negative value of children was assumed to affect fertility. Second, Ka
gıt¸cıba¸sı promoted research on the value of children by differentiating among different aspects – the economic, the social, and the psychological/emotional value of children. This allowed researchers to specify in which way socio-economic changes were related to different values and behavior. Third, she contributed to the still ongoing debate on the concept of culture by studying intrasocietal differences in Turkey. The combination of inter- and intracultural comparisons allowed her to empirically investigate ongoing changes in Turkey (Ka
gıt¸cıba¸sı 1982, 1996). Thereby, she underlined the necessity to differentiate between rural and urban areas as contexts for human development. Fourth, she went beyond the traditional approach of demographic research by focusing on processes beyond fertility: she included a human development perspective by studying parenting behavior. Beyond giving birth to a child, parents are involved in caretaking behavior to promote desirable developmental outcomes in the child. Consequently, a fifth contribution of Ka
gıtc¸ ıba¸sı is her studying social change by focusing on the relations among different macro- and micro-level systems and their impacts on individual developmental outcomes. This theoretical approach is in line with the famous ecological theoretical framework of Whiting and Whiting (1975), Bronfenbrenner (1979), and the more recent theoretical approaches by Segall et al.

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(1990) and Trommsdorff (2007a). Accordingly, the wider economic system is studied in relation to the micro-system of the family, the proximate developmental conditions such as parenting styles, and developmental outcomes such as the individual value orientations. Ka
gıt¸cıba¸sı’s specific contribution to this complex approach is a revised theoretical framework as part of her Model of Family Change (MFC), attempting to integrate perspectives on socio-economic change and human development (1996). This model has served as a theoretical guideline for cross-cultural empirical studies on the value of children (e.g., Ataca et al. 2005: 91; Georgas et al. 2006; Ka
gıtc¸ ıba¸sı and Ataca 2005: 317). Cross-cultural studies on demographic changes and the changing value of children Demographers differentiate among several periods of demographic transition but usually do not take into account implications for individual development. A major problem in the study of both social and demographic changes and human development is that methodologically different levels for analyses of data have to be dealt with (Trommsdorff and Nauck 2006: 343). Variables from the macro-level of society such as economic productivity (e.g., Gross Domestic Product, GDP) or fertility rates may be indicative of changes that do not necessarily match changes in individual development, such as changing parenting and changing developmental outcomes. Demographic changes describe changes in fertility and mortality rates – changes that occur on the societal macro-level, consisting of observed changes in highly aggregated measures. However, intra- and inter-societal variations in fertility and life expectancy have to be taken into account in order to adequately study societies in transition, such as India, Turkey, Indonesia, or China, where the considerable variations in reproductive behavior are to some degree related to urbanization. Another question is whether changes on the macro level such as demographic changes are reflected in changes on the micro-level. This is related to the question of how changes on the micro-level, e.g., of individual families which constitute the context for individual development, affect individual behavior and development. One approach is to study cultural differences in child-related value orientations and behavior, such as parenting, assuming that the value of children is related to reproductive behavior and parenting. This approach guided the original Value of Children study (Arnold et al. 1975) and the recent partial replication and extension of the Value of Children and Intergenerational Relations study (Trommsdorff and Nauck 2006: 343; Trommsdorff et al. 2005).

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Goals of the original and extended value of children studies The main question of the original Value of Children study, undertaken by demographers and economists, was to determine how changes in fertility could be explained in an interdisciplinary theoretical framework (Arnold et al. 1975; Fawcett 1972, 1983: 429). The goal was to explain the high fertility in most countries in the world. One significant finding of this study was that individual values, especially the value of children, can partly explain fertility behavior. This widened the perspective beyond a purely economic approach to fertility by taking into account psychological factors such as the motivations, needs, and values of people (Bulatao 1979a, 1979b; Hoffman and Hoffman 1973: 19). This approach resulted in a large international comparative study including more than 20,000 married respondents from nine countries (including Indonesia, Korea, the Philippines, Singapore, Taiwan, Thailand, Turkey, the United States, and a women’s sample from Germany). The focus was on explaining differences in fertility by taking cultural and psychological factors into account (e.g., Fawcett 1983: 429; Hoffman 1987: 159; Ka
gıtc¸ ıba¸sı 1982: 29). The motive to have children – the “value of children” – was conceptualized as based on economic/utilitarian, emotional and social/ normative values (Ka
gıt¸cıba¸sı 1996). The authors empirically demonstrated that, in poor countries, the economic value of children was higher than in economically advanced countries, while the reverse picture occurred for the emotional value of children. Recent surveys (e.g., World Bank 2003) are in line with this result: the highest economic and lowest emotional value of children were reported for Peru, Costa Rica, and Colombia; the highest emotional and lowest economic value of children were reported for Korea, Taiwan, Japan, the US, and Australia. In poor countries, the economic value of children is based on the parents’ realistic expectation that children will help in the economic survival of the family and later will take care of the elderly parents. Therefore, low economic resources seem to motivate parents to have more children. From this point of view, the value of children and the family is related to the economic situation of a country. Furthermore, the value of children is also related to the country’s welfare system: when the state does not take responsibility for the survival of families and of the elderly, the economic value of children is high. This relationship can be observed in traditional countries where extended family is the rule, such as in most African and many traditional countries (e.g., Sam et al. 2005: 355). Parents expect that their children will take care of the family and the aging parents.

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Accordingly, the economic value of children is closely related to the social value of children. This is especially the case in traditional societies where the social norm to have children is part of the general cultural beliefs that maturity and adulthood are only achieved through parenthood, or when the wife is only respected and given status in the family when she bears children. Here, to have many children is regarded as an indicator of economic and social status. However, since low economic status is related to high socio-economic and low emotional value of children and to high fertility, the question then arises as to whether the opposite relation can be assumed: is high economic status related to low socio-economic and high emotional value of children and to low fertility? This association implies that the decline in fertility presently observed all over the world is related to the specific psychological function of the socio-economic and emotional values of children. A second question is whether different values of children are related to differences in parenting and individual development, and whether these relations vary with socio-cultural change and respective cultural differences in these variables. These questions directly confront the issues of socio-cultural change and the transmission of values from parents to the next generation. The value of children in times of socio-economic changes In order to explain possible changes in the value of children and fertility, a theoretical framework is needed that takes into account socio-cultural and individual factors. This has been the starting point for our revised international comparative Value of Children (VOC) study, which goes beyond the prediction of fertility and also studies intergenerational relations and social change (Trommsdorff and Nauck 2005). Both are possible by partially replicating the original VOC study (several instruments from the original VOC study were used in the present VOC study), and by extending the study design to include three interconnected generations of families in ten countries, plus samples of young mothers (comparable in age to the samples from the original VOC study). The replication of the study allows for studying socio-cultural changes in the respective variables; while the extension of the study also allows for studying implications for parenting and intersgenerational relationships. In the following, we will discuss some results and implications of our international and multi-generation Value of Children study (ibid.). On the basis of the revised sociological rational choice model by Nauck (this volume), it is predicted that in countries with high economic

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status, the economic and social value of children will be less important and the emotional value will be more important. This should also be related to low reproductive behavior. The emotional value of children can be satisfied by having only one or a few children, while the economic costs (negative value) of having children in modern societies are rising. Our study clearly supports this assumed relationship between economic status and the value of children (e.g., Nauck 2005: 183; Trommsdorff and Nauck 2005; Trommsdorff et al. 2002: 581): fertility rates and the economic value of children are higher in poorer countries (Trommsdorff 2007b). Furthermore, results from our intra-societal comparisons of countries in transition, such as the People’s Republic of China, show intra-societal differences in the value of children. In China, the economic value of children differs between rural and urban areas. Here, urbanization and related aspects of modernization such as school education, and increasing alternatives like having a career, contribute to changes in the value of children. This is in line with the model of family systems and social change by Ka
gıt¸cıba¸sı (1996). Furthermore, Ka
gıtc¸ ıba¸sı and Ataca (2005: 317) and Kim and Park (2005: 209) not only confirmed that the value of children is affected by socio-economic change but also demonstrated significant changes in the value of children during the last three decades. Their studies are based on direct comparisons between the data from the original and the present VOC study. The social-economic value of children has been declining whereas the emotional value of children has been increasing during the last few decades. These studies support the hypothesis that higher economic status is associated with higher emotional and lower socio-economic value of children. This result holds for different cultures and also in different historical periods. However, such intra-cultural comparisons need to be complemented by inter-cultural comparisons including several countries. Value of children in relation to macro-level variables: cross-cultural studies on economic development, fertility rate, and value orientations In order to test associations between economic factors and the value of children, cross-cultural analyses including several countries are reported in the following. This approach allows us to analyze whether predictions on the basis of the family model of change by Ka
gıtc¸ ıba¸sı (1996) can be empirically validated. The family model differentiates between different types of family system and related value orientations. Therefore,

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culture-specificities are expected with regard to relations between macro-variables of a country (e.g., socio-economic development) and the value of children. Macro-level variables constitute the wider context for individual behavior and development. In line with Ka
gıt¸cıba¸sı’s model on social change and the family, we caution against direct associations among macro- and individual-level variables; mediating factors such as the family system have to be taken into account. On the basis of her model, different “types” of family system, including value orientations, are assumed to be related to different “stages” of socio-economic change. Systematic comparisons involve including different countries with different levels of socio-economic development in order to test whether differences in the socio-economic value of children occur. In the following analyses, Gross Domestic Product (GDP) is selected as the indicator for economic development; the Total Fertility Rate (TFR) is chosen as the indicator for socio-demographic change; and the degree of expressed postmodern values and attendance at religious services are selected as indicators for socio-cultural changes toward modernity. These variables were highly correlated with the socio-economic value of children in ten countries (Trommsdorff 2007b). In the following, I will first report correlations between the GDP and the socio-economic value of children in ten countries. The overall correlation was highly significant (r ¼ 0.81). A closer look at the correlations for each country shows four groups of countries with similar correlations: (1) Germany, France, and Japan were highest in GDP and lowest in socio-economic value of children, in contrast to (2) South Africa, India, and Indonesia, who were lowest in GDP and highest in socio-economic value of children. The two other groups were (3) Israel and Korea, which were close to group (1), and (4) Turkey and China, which grouped between groups (2) and (3) (see Figure 6.1). These results can be interpreted in line with the basic assumption of Ka
gıt¸cıba¸sı (1996) regarding the relations among social change, family systems, and value orientations. Ka
gıt¸cıba¸sı differentiates among three types of family system: one type favoring values of independence and high emotional value of children, a second type favoring values of interdependence and high economic value of children, and a possibly newly emerging type favoring a symbiosis of independence and interdependence. A similar result was obtained by correlating the Total Fertility Rate (TFR; Population Reference Bureau 2005) macro-level indicator and socio-economic values of children as assessed in our ten-country study. Again, countries grouped in a similar way to that described above (total significant correlation: r ¼ 0.73). France and Germany belonged to

Value of children 30,000,00

GDP per capita (US$)

25,000,00

France

93

Japan

Germany

Israel

20,000,00

Korea

15,000,00 South Africa

10,000,00 Turkey China

5,000,00

Indonesia India

0,00 –0.75

–0.50

–0.25

0.00

0.25

0.50

Socio-economic VOC

Figure 6.1 Scatter plot of the cross-culture correlation between GDP and socio-economic VOC. Values on the axis for socio-economic VOC are ipsatized and are part of the VOC study. Source: GDP per capita is based on the World Bank’s purchasing power parity (PPP) estimates as of 2002, in US dollars (World Bank 2003).

a group with a low TFR and a low socio-economic value of children, and, in contrast, South Africa, India, and Indonesia belonged to a group with a high TFR and high socio-economic value of children (the other countries grouped in-between) (see Figure 6.2). The question arises whether these groups also represent cultural differences with respect to values of modernization. According to Inglehart’s (2001) theory of modernization, a shift in value orientations occurs from materialistic values in traditional societies to postmaterialistic values in modern, urbanized, and secularized societies (Inglehart and Baker 2000: 19). Data from the World Value Survey (1990–92) on the percentage of postmaterialistic values were significantly correlated with our data on the value of children in ten countries (total correlation: r ¼ 0.76). The pattern of results was clearly in line with the above reported results. Germany and France showed the highest negative correlations: they were highest in the percentage of postmaterialist values and lowest in

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India 3.00 South Africa Israel

Total fertility rate (2004)

Indonesia 2.50

Turkey

2.00 France China 1.50 Germany Japan Korea

–0.75

–0.50

–0.25

0.00

0.25

0.50

Socio-economic VOC

Figure 6.2 Scatter plot of the cross-culture correlation between fertility and socio-economic VOC. Values on the axis for socio-economic VOC are ipsatized and are part of the VOC study. The total fertility rate (TFR) measures the total number of children a woman would have given current birth rates. Source: Fertility rates are from Population Reference Bureau (2005).

the socio-economic value of children. Both South Africa and India showed high positive correlations, and the correlations of the other countries were in between these two extremes (see Trommsdorff 2007b). A further analysis based on the Index of Dynamic Externality (Bond et al. 2004: 548), which measures traditional values at the cultural level, showed highly significant overall correlations (r ¼ 0.86). The pattern of results again showed three groups of countries with similar correlations, with Germany and France at one extreme, Indonesia, India, and South Africa at the other extreme, and Turkey, Korea, China, Israel, and Japan in the middle group (see Trommsdorff 2007b). Finally, correlations between religiosity (attending religious services; World Value Survey 1995–1998) and the socio-economic value of children were highly significant (total correlation: r ¼ 0.86). The same pattern of results occurred as reported above: Germany and France formed one group, South Africa and India grouped together at the

Value of children 0 +

5 +

95 10 +

15 +

20 +

25 +

France Germany Japan Turkey China Israel Korea Indonesia India South Africa

Figure 6.3 Dendogram of clusters of cultures. The horizontal axis represents the squared Euclidean distance between clusters; cultures linked nearer the left side show closer similitude on the values investigated in the VOC study.

opposite end, and Turkey and Korea were grouped in the middle (Trommsdorff 2007b). In a next step, similarities between cultures were summarized through cluster analysis. The analysis was conducted for five values (Socioeconomic VOC, Emotional VOC, Individualism, Interdependence, and Family Values) across the ten VOC cultures based on Ward’s hierarchical clustering method. A three-cluster solution was most convincing and clear; it is portrayed as a tree diagram in Figure 6.3 (first cluster: France, Germany, and Japan; second cluster: Turkey, China, Israel, and Korea; third cluster: Indonesia, India, and South Africa). A closer look at the means show significant differences among the three cultural groups for socio-economic VOC and for family values (see Figure 6.4). These results are in line with our theoretical assumptions. Discussion The question remains as to whether this pattern of results indicates a pattern of socio-economic and value change as part of modernization, and whether the three country groups represent societies with different levels of social change. According to the model of social change and family systems by Ka
gıtc¸ ıba¸sı (1996), differentiation among a modern, a traditional, and a third group was expected and our country groupings support this expectation. However, our data do not allow us to interpret these results as indicating effects of socio-economic change. In order to study effects of socio-economic change on the value of children, longitudinal studies are needed in several countries. Only a combination of

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Mean (ipsatized values plus a constant 3)

4

3.5

Cluster 1 Cluster 2 Cluster 3

3

2.5

2

1.5 1 Socio-economic VOC

Family values

Figure 6.4 Means of selected values for the three-cluster solution.

inter- and intra-societal comparisons over time will allow for testing of the assumed relations. Another assumption underlying the family model of Ka
gıt¸cıba¸sı (1996) is that in the process of social change, differences between societies will be reduced due to an increase of values of interdependence in modern societies, and an increase of values of independence in traditional societies, thus giving rise to a third family model combining values of independence and interdependence. Inglehart and Baker (2000: 19) deal with the question of whether a convergence of values due to modernization is taking place all over the world or whether a persistence of traditional values can be observed in spite of economic and political changes. The authors refute the convergence thesis on the basis of data from the Value Survey. As for the value of children, the question regarding possible convergence of values over time in different countries has not yet been empirically tested; it can only be answered by inter- and intra-societal comparisons. Also, the psychological processes underlying the change to a predominance of emotional as compared to economic values are not yet clarified. Value of children and parenting The original Value of Children study (Arnold et al. 1975; Fawcett 1972) was primarily concerned with explaining fertility. However, in order to investigate reproductive behavior more fully, both childbearing and

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child rearing need to be examined. Therefore, in our extension of the VOC study, we introduced a multi-generational design in order to analyze possible effects of cultural variables and values on parenting, parent–child relationships, and the transmission of values from parents to the next generation (Trommsdorff 2001: 36). In the following, I report results from our cross-cultural studies, which are guided by the model of socio-economic change and family systems by Ka
gıtc¸ ıba¸sı (1996). These results may be relevant beyond the Value of Children study in light of ongoing discussions about “optimal” parenting and “optimal child development.” Since mainstream discussions on this topic tend to ignore phenomena from the “majority” world, cross-cultural studies are needed, which deal with culture-specificities and go beyond western theorizing. Ka
gıt¸cıba¸sı’s (ibid.) family model is an example of an approach that attempts to broaden the western perspective, as it seems to be applicable to (or even typical for) different cultures and ongoing social changes. Parenting goals and the value of children Following Ka
gıtc¸ ıba¸sı’s (1996) model of family systems and social change, we attempted to specify the kind of relations among economic status and child-related values and parenting. According to the model and in line with earlier theorizing (e.g., Berry 1993: 361; Whiting and Whiting 1975), a relation between the traditional socio-economic value of children and obedience can be expected. This association was found frequently in rural areas (Hoffman and Hoffman 1973: 19; Ka
gıtc¸ ıba¸sı 1982: 29; 1996). In line with most studies on culture and parenting, obedience (as compared to independence) was more highly valued in rural as compared to urban areas (in those countries for which such intra-societal comparisons were possible due to regional differences in modernization) (Hoffman and Hoffman 1973: 19). Our analyses of the associations between the value of children and parenting goals in two regions of Indonesia, a traditional society, revealed not only differences between rural and urban areas in the preference of traditional socio-economic and old-age security values of children but also different associations between VOC and parenting goals. When controlling for socio-demographic variables, regression analyses for mothers from rural areas showed that higher old-age security VOC predicted the importance of the parenting goals of obedience and “being a good person.” In contrast, for mothers from urban areas, higher oldage security VOC predicted the importance of the parenting goal of

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independence and of being popular. Mothers from urban areas who more highly valued the emotional VOC preferred the parental goal of “being a good person” (Albert et al. 2005: 171). These studies are in line with the hypothesis that in rural as compared to urban areas of a traditional society, more traditional values and parenting practices are preferred. The results on the associations between VOC and parenting goals in rural and urban areas also may indicate the direction of value change in transitional societies: for urban but not for rural Indonesian mothers, the traditional old-age security VOC is related to parenting goals of independence. The ecological context of urbanization seems to give a different meaning to the dimensions of VOC: no real inconsistency seems to be experienced between traditional VOC and the “modern” parenting goal of independence. On the contrary, the transition to modernity may be smoother when such combinations of traditional and modern values are possible. The question arises here of what the relations between VOC and parenting are like in an industrialized modern society such as Germany. Our analyses showed that amongst German mothers, the higher the preference for traditional socio-economic VOC, the more the parenting goal of obedience was preferred. The mothers’ emotional value of children was (significantly but less strongly) related to the parenting goal of independence. Furthermore, the mothers’ traditional old-age security VOC was related to a higher evaluation of their children’s academic achievement (Mayer et al. 2005: 43). More detailed analyses for German mothers and grandmothers revealed significant associations between collectivistic (in contrast to individualistic) value orientations and parenting goals of obedience (Trommsdorff et al. 2004: 157). Cultural differences in parenting behavior: control and acceptance In the following, cross-cultural comparisons of parenting behavior as perceived by adolescents are reported. The focus is on the three dimensions of parenting, which have been studied by Rohner (2005) in numerous cultural comparisons: acceptance, control, and rejection. A comparison among all cultures included in our VOC study showed that 16 percent of the variance for acceptance was explained by culture (gender only explains 1 percent of the variance). Most cultures ranged between 3.0 and 3.5 on a scale measuring acceptance from 1 to 4. The explained variance by culture is much higher for control (30 percent). The traditional societies (especially South Africa) scored higher in control than the more economically developed societies.

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Furthermore, an interaction between culture and gender occurred, with more control reported by girls in all cultures except for France and China, where boys reported more parental control. In all countries except South Africa and India, very low values for rejection occurred, with the values being lowest for Swiss and German adolescents. Twentyfour percent of the variance was explained by culture. These overall analyses of cultural differences in perceived parenting (after having carried out various procedures to ascertain comparability of data, etc.) can be interpreted as roughly indicating different groups of cultures representing more modern and more traditional types of parenting styles. However, these descriptive results on mean differences do not allow for a culture-informed interpretation. Therefore, the next question is whether these parenting variables have a different meaning in the different cultures. This question is even more relevant since most western research points to undesirable effects of controlling parenting and desirable development outcomes in the case of accepting parenting (Rothbaum and Trommsdorff 2006). Cultural meaning of acceptance and control A first approach was to test whether acceptance and control are related or whether they represent independent factors. Therefore, factor analyses were carried out for two countries selected on account of their difference in economic development and socio-cultural variables, Germany and India (Mayer et al. 2006). Factor analyses showed that in Germany, the factors acceptance and control were clearly differentiated. In India, only one factor was revealed (acceptance-control). No mean differences occurred with respect to acceptance (high values for both countries). Significant differences occurred for control: Indian adolescents reported high control and high acceptance, while German adolescents reported significantly lower control (ibid.). The same pattern of results also occurred in comparisons between Korean and German adolescents, where a negative association occurred for acceptance and control for German adolescents, and a positive association occurred for acceptance and control for Korean adolescents (Wieder, unpublished thesis 2004). Furthermore, analyses of the associations between perceived parenting and parent–child relationships in all three countries revealed interesting patterns. In all three countries, acceptance was negatively correlated with conflicts in the parent–child relationship. In Germany and Korea, control was positively correlated with parent–child conflict,

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whereas in India, control was negatively correlated with parent–child conflict. These results alone indicate cultural differences in the cultural meaning of acceptance and control in perceived parenting. The similar pattern for German and Korean adolescents’ experience of parenting is in contrast to the Indian results. The culture-specific pattern of results indicate that German adolescents conform to the characteristics of the western individualistic family model, while Indian adolescents instead conform to the traditional model, and Korean adolescents can be grouped inbetween as part of a society in transition. More detailed analyses of Korean adolescents revealed that values of interdependence were a significant moderator. In the case of high values of interdependence, the relation between acceptance and control was significantly positive (it was no more significant in case of low interdependence). Also, interdependence did not moderate the strong positive association between control and conflict (Wieder, unpublished thesis 2004). In Germany, no such associations occurred. This confirms the importance of taking into account multiple indicators of social change and family systems. Finally, data from a recent analysis of parenting reported by Turkish adolescents from rural and urban areas and from different sociodemographic backgrounds are reported, to discuss Ka
gıtc¸ ıba¸sı’s (1982: 29; 1996) research on socio-cultural changes in Turkey and the methodological advantages of intra-cultural comparisons.2 The data analyses showed that positive associations between acceptance and control occurred for adolescents from rural areas and negative associations occurred for adolescents in the urban sample (Wind et al. in preparation). Furthermore, in the urban sample, control correlated positively with experienced rejection. Significantly less parental control, less rejection, more parental acceptance, but also more conflict with parents was experienced by urban as compared to rural adolescents (and less control was experienced by boys as compared to girls). Socioeconomic status also had a significant effect on experienced parenting, with less control for higher socio-economic status. Furthermore, the variance was explained to a large degree by the mothers’ level of education. These results are especially important when explaining family change in accordance with Ka
gıtc¸ ıba¸sı’s model. Economic change and changes in education are important variables which, as can be seen here, affect parenting and parent–child relationships. Within the same country, 2

The Turkish data were collected by Bilge Ataca and Ci
¸ gdem Ka
gıt¸cıba¸sı (urban area) and Bernhard Nauck (rural area).

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parental control and acceptance were associated in reverse directions depending on the ecological and economic conditions and the educational status of the mothers. The above pattern of results again underlines the assumptions in the Model of Family Change by Ka
gıt¸cıba¸sı (1996). A closer look at parenting styles allows us to go beyond a simple differentiation between modern and traditional cultures and to study changes in socialization conditions in transitional societies. Finally, the question of how perceived parenting is related to developmental outcome has to be addressed. Comparisons of French and German adolescents showed that perceived parental acceptance was positively associated with life satisfaction (in general, and more specifically with peers, friends, and family) and also with optimism and perceived acceptance by peers. In contrast, no significant associations occurred for perceived control and these outcome variables, except for German boys, who were less satisfied with friendships when experiencing high parental control (Albert et al. 2005). No specific cultural differences occurred. A different picture emerged in our comparison between German and Indian adolescents (Mayer et al. 2006). In Germany, parental acceptance was associated positively with life satisfaction of adolescents. For Indian adolescents, both parental acceptance and control were correlated positively with life satisfaction. These results demonstrate a different cultural meaning of parenting and the different functions of parental control for developmental outcomes. Summary and conclusion The results of our cross-cultural studies clearly reveal significant differences in the value of children. Furthermore, these studies show differences in the associations between the socio-economic value of children and several country-level indicators such as Gross Domestic Product, fertility rate, postmodern values, and religious practices. Furthermore, cultural differences in parenting, and, more interestingly, in the associations between the socio-economic value of children and parental goals (obedience, independence), occurred. Finally, cross-cultural differences in parenting (acceptance, control, rejection) as perceived by adolescents and in the interrelations of the parenting dimensions were reported. One main result was that most differences in the value of children and parenting occurred for comparisons between “traditional” and “modern industrialized” societies. However, in line with Triandis (1995), we

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caution against na€ıve use of these labels due to problems of ethnocentric bias and related misinterpretations. The dichotomy of tradition and modernity turned out to be too simple. Our results suggest that a third “type” of society emerges. This interpretation is supported by intrasocietal comparisons of VOC and parenting in those countries with a still large agrarian population and an increasing urban population. Countries in which urban and rural areas represent differences in modernization (e.g., in the level of women’s education) may be seen as societies in transition (Turkey, Indonesia, and the People’s Republic of China). These three types of society are expected to differ with respect to economic development, fertility, value orientations, and family systems (Ka
gıt¸cıba¸sı 1996). To summarize, the results from our cross-cultural studies on the value of children and intergenerational relationships give empirical support to the need to further study the implications of the Model of Family Change by Ka
gıt¸cıba¸sı (1996, 2005: 403) with respect to questions of social and demographic changes and its relevance for human development. Economic and demographic changes typically do not directly influence individual behavior – they are related to socio-economic changes, to changes in the opportunity structures for individual choices, and to general value orientations in the society. In their overview, Trommsdorff and Nauck (2006: 343) analyzed various direct and indirect consequences of sociodemographic changes for developmental conditions of the individual. These changes can affect the developmental niche (e.g., family system) and thereby influence developmental outcomes (Trommsdorff 2007a). This view is in line with Bronfenbrenner’s (1979) ecological model of development and multi-level model of developmentin-culture. Therefore, we are interested in parenting and intergenerational relationships as elements of the micro-level of individual families, which constitute the context for individual development in changing contexts. This line of reasoning also underlies the Model of Family Change by Ka
gıt¸cıba¸sı (1996). According to this model, three types of stages in social change are related to different family systems, including different combinations of value orientation and parenting. The results from our various cross- and intra-societal analyses are in line with the assumptions from this model. While this model assumes possible changes of the traditional and modern societies in the direction of the emergence of a third family model (combining values of independence and interdependence), our data cannot test this assumption due to the crosssectional nature of our design.

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However, an approach to predict possible changes of values is the study of intergenerational transmission of values. This is a further goal of our study. We attempt to analyze the transmission of values from parents to the next generation by studying intergenerational relations. Our multi-generation design allows us to analyze similarities in value orientations between three generations in a single family. One interesting finding of these analyses is that German grandmothers and mothers share certain values (e.g., regression analyses revealed that grandmothers transfer values of obedience, and school achievement) (Trommsdorff et al. 2004: 157) and the grandmothers and their grandchildren share values which are not shared with the mothers (Albert 2007). Differences between grandmothers and mothers with respect to parenting goals of obedience and independence may indicate social change and processes of transition. Here, the problem of confounding cohort and developmental effects has to be taken into account. However, solely focusing on similarities of values without taking into account how these similarities can be explained does not allow us to draw conclusions about value transmission (Albert 2007; Trommsdorff in press). Therefore, the processes of transmission have to be studied. According to a culture-informed model of transmission of values, we have already carried out several analyses demonstrating the relevance of the quality of the parent–child relationship as a transmission belt. More specifically, the degree of intimacy in the mother–child relationship and certain parenting practices have proved to function as successful transmission belts for values, as well as for the quality of attachment (Albert 2007; Albert and Trommsdorff 2003; Albert et al. 2005, in press; Trommsdorff in press). Albert (2007) showed that the transmission of certain values (especially of group-oriented, collectivistic values) can be predicted by the quality of parent–child relationships (with intimacy and admiration being important aspects) in Germany and in France. As far as the transmission of attachment is concerned, parental control can have different functions depending on the culture (Albert et al. in press). To summarize, these studies provide insight into processes of social change by focusing on intergenerational relationships and the transmission of values as elements of these processes. Ka
gıtc¸ ıba¸sı’s model (1996) should form the foundation for future research on this question, as it allows for theoretical organization and integration of results on cultural factors, the value of children, and parenting. Further research is needed to specify and expand a theoretical framework of social change, value of children, and intergenerational relationships in order to continue studies from a social change and a human development perspective.

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references I. Albert and G. Trommsdorff, “Intergenerational transmission of family values,” poster presented at the Eleventh European Conference on Developmental Psychology in Milan, Italy, 2003. I. Albert, Intergenerationale Transmission von Werten in Deutschland und Frankreich [Intergenerational Transmission of Values in Germany and France] (Lengerich: Pabst Science, 2007). I. Albert, G. Trommsdorff, and R. C. Mishra, “Parenting and adolescent attachment in India and Germany,” in G. Zheng, K. Leung, and J. Adair (eds.), Perspectives and Progress in Contemporary Cross-cultural Psychology (Beijing: China Light Industry Press, in press). I. Albert, G. Trommsdorff, B. Mayer, and B. Schwarz, “Value of children in urban and rural Indonesia: Socio-demographic indicators, cultural aspects and empirical findings,” in G. Trommsdorff and B. Nauck (eds.), The Value of Children in Cross-cultural Perspective. Case Studies from Eight Societies (Lengerich: Pabst Science, 2005), pp. 171–207. I. Albert, G. Trommsdorff, and C. Sabatier, “Parenting and intergenerational transmission of values in Germany and France,” paper presented at the Seventh European Regional Congress of the International Association for Cross-Cultural Psychology, San Sebastian, Spain, 2005. F. Arnold, R. A. Bulatao, C. Buripakdi, B. J. Chung, J. T. Fawcett, and T. Iritani, The Value of Children: A Cross-national Study. Volume 2. Introduction and Comparative Analysis (Honolulu, HI: East-West Population Institute, 1975). B. Ataca, B., C. ¸ Ka
gıtc¸ ıba¸sı, and A. Diri, “The Turkish family and the value of children: Trends over time,” in G. Trommsdorff and B. Nauck (eds.), The Value of Children in Cross Cultural Perspectives: Case Studies from Eight Societies (Lengerich: Pabst Science Publishers, 2005), pp. 91–120. J. W. Berry, “An ecological approach to understanding cognition across cultures,” in J. Altarriba (ed.), Cognition and Culture: A Cross-cultural Approach To Cognitive Psychology. Advances in Psychology, Volume 103 (Amsterdam: NorthHolland/Elsevier Science, 1993), pp. 361–75. M. H. Bond, K. Leung, A. Au, K. K. Tong, S. R. De Carrasquel, F. Murakami, S. Yamaguchi, G. Bierbrauer, et al., “Culture-level dimensions of social axioms and their correlates across 41 cultures,” Journal of Cross-Cultural Psychology, 35 (2004), 548–70. U. Bronfenbrenner, The Ecology of Human Development: Experiments by Nature and Design (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1979). R. A. Bulatao, On the Nature of the Transition in the Value of Children (Honolulu, HI: East-West Center, 1979a) . R. A. Bulatao, Further Evidence of the Transition in the Value of Children (Honolulu, HI: East-West Center, 1979b). J. T. Fawcett (ed.), The Satisfactions and Costs of Children: Theory, Concepts, Methods (Honolulu, HI: East-West Center, 1972). J. T. Fawcett, “Perceptions of the value of children: Satisfactions and costs,” in R. A. Bulatao and R. D. Lee (eds.), Determinants of Fertility in Developing Countries, Volume 1 (New York: Academic Press, 1983), pp. 429–57.

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J. Georgas, J. W. Berry, F. J. R. Van de Vijver, C. ¸ Ka
gıt¸cıba¸sı, and Y. H. Poortinga (eds.), Families across Cultures: A 30-nation Psychological Study (Cambridge, MA: Cambridge University Press, 2006). L. W. Hoffman, “The value of children to parents and child-rearing patterns,” in C. ¸ Ka
gıtc¸ ıba¸sı (ed.), Growth and Progress in Cross-cultural Psychology (Berwyn and Lisse: Swets and Zeitinger, 1987), pp. 159–70. L. W. Hoffman and M. L. Hoffman, “The value of children to parents,” in J. T. Fawcett (ed.), Psychological Perspectives on Population (New York: Basic Books, 1973), pp. 19–77. L. W. Hoffman and J. D. Manis, “The value of children in the United States,” in F. I. Nye (ed.), Family Relationships (Beverly Hills and London: Sage, 1982), pp. 143–70. R. F. Inglehart, “Sociological theories of modernization,” in N. J. Smelser and P. B. Baltes (eds.), International Encyclopedia of the Social and Behavioral Sciences (Amsterdam and New York: Elsevier, 2001), pp. 9965–71. R. Inglehart and W. E. Baker, “Modernization, cultural change, and the persistence of traditional values,” American Sociological Review, 65 (2000), 19–51. C. ¸ Ka
gıtc¸ ıba¸sı, “Old-age security value of children: Cross-national socioeconomic evidence,” Journal of Cross-Cultural Psychology, 13 (1982), 29–42. C. ¸ Ka
gıt¸cıba¸sı, Family and Human Development across Cultures: A View from the Other Side (Mahwah, NJ: Lawrence Erlbaum, 1996). C. ¸ Ka
gıt¸cıba¸sı, “Autonomy and relatedness in cultural context: Implications for self and family,” Journal of Cross-Cultural Psychology, 36 (2005), 403–22. C. ¸ Ka
gıt¸cıba¸sı and B. Ataca, “Value of children and family change: A three decade portrait from Turkey,” Applied Psychology: An International Review, Special Issue: Value of Children in Socio-cultural Contexts, 54 (2005), 317–37. U. Kim and Y. S. Park, “Family, parent–child relationships, fertility rates, and value of children in Korea: Indigenous, psychological, and cultural analysis,” in G. Trommsdorff and B. Nauck (eds), The Value of Children in Cross-cultural Perspective. Case Studies from Eight Societies (Lengerich: Pabst Science Publishers, 2005), pp. 209–37. B. Mayer, I. Albert, G. Trommsdorff, and B. Schwarz, “Value of children in Germany: Dimensions, comparison of generations, and relevance for parenting,” in G. Trommsdorff and B. Nauck (eds.), The Value of Children in Cross-cultural Perspective. Case Studies from Eight Societies (Lengerich: Pabst Science Publishers, 2005), pp. 43–65. B. Mayer, G. Trommsdorff, and R. Mishra, “Parenting, parent-child-relationship, and life satisfaction in German and Indian adolescents,” paper presented at the Eighteenth International Congress of the International Association for Cross-Cultural Psychology (IACCP), Spetses, Greece, 2006). B. Nauck, “Changing value of children: An action theory of fertility behaviour and intergenerational relationships in cross-cultural comparison,” in W. Friedlmeier, P. Chakkarath, and B. Schwarz (eds.), Culture and Human Development. The Importance of Cross-cultural Research for The Social Sciences (Hove, UK: Psychology Press, 2005), pp. 183–202. Population Reference Bureau, US Bureau of the Census and the World Population Data Sheet of the Population Reference Bureau, 2005 (www.prb.org).

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F. Rothbaum and G. Trommsdorff, “Do roots and wings complement or oppose one another? The socialization of relatedness and autonomy in cultural context,” in J. E. Grusec and P. Hastings (eds.), The Handbook of Socialization (New York: Guilford Press, 2006), pp. 461–89. R. P. Rohner (ed.), Handbook for the Study of Parental Acceptance and Rejection, Fourth edition (Storrs, CT: Rohner Research Publications, 2005). D. L. Sam, K. Peltzer, and B. Mayer, “The changing values of children and preferences regarding family size in South Africa,” Applied Psychology: An International Review. Special Issue: Value of Children in Socio-cultural Contexts, 54 (2005), 355–77. M. H. Segall, P. R. Dasen, J. W. Berry, and Y. H. Poortinga, Human Behavior in Global Perspective: An Introduction to Cross-cultural Psychology (New York: Pergamon, 1990). H. C. Triandis, Individualism and Collectivism (Boulder, CO: Westview Press, 1995). G. Trommsdorff, “Value of children and intergenerational relations: A crosscultural psychological study,” in S. Walper and R. Pekrun (eds.), Familie und Entwicklung: Aktuelle Perspektiven der Familienpsychologie (G€ ottingen: Hogrefe, 2001), pp. 36–62. G. Trommsdorff, “Entwicklung im kulturellen Kontext [Development in cultural context],” in G. Trommsdorff and H.-J. Kornadt (eds.), Enzyklop€ adie der Psychologie: Themenbereich C Theorie und Forschung, Serie VII Kulturvergleichende Psychologie. Band: Kulturelle Determinanten des Erlebens und Verhaltens (G€ ottingen: Hogrefe, 2007a), pp. 435–519. G. Trommsdorff, “Socio-demographic changes and its social and psychological consequences in different cultures,” in S. Kusune, Y. Nishijima, and H. Adachi (eds.), Socio-cultural Transformation in the 21st Century? Risks and Challenges of Social Changes ((Kanazawa, Japan: Kanazawa Electric Publishing Company, 2007b), pp. 243–65. G. Trommsdorff, “Cultural transmission: Developmental, psychological, social and methodological perspectives,” in U. Sch€ onpflug (ed.), Perspectives on Cultural Transmission (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, in press). G. Trommsdorff and B. Nauck (eds.), The Value of Children in Cross-cultural Perspective. Case Studies from Eight Societies (Lengerich: Pabst Science, 2005). G. Trommsdorff and B. Nauck, “Demographic changes and parent–child relationship,” Parenting: Science and Practice, 6 (2006), 343–60. G. Trommsdorff, U. Kim, and B. Nauck (eds.), “Factors influencing value of children and intergenerational relations in times of social change: Analyses from psychological and socio-cultural perspectives,” Applied Psychology: An International Review, 54 (2005), 313–16. G. Trommsdorff, B. Mayer, and I. Albert, “Dimensions of culture in intracultural comparisons: Individualism/collectivism and family-related values in three generations,” in H. Vinken, J. Soeters, and P. Ester (eds.), Comparing Cultures: Dimensions of Culture in a Comparative Perspective (Leiden, The Netherlands: Brill, 2004), pp. 157–79. G. Trommsdorff, G. Zheng, and T. Tardif, “Value of children and intergenerational relations in cultural context,” in P. Boski, F. J. R. Van de Vijver, and

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A. M. Chodynicka (eds.), New directions in Cross-cultural Psychology. Selected Papers from the Fifteenth International Conference of the International Association for Cross-Cultural Psychology (Warsaw, Poland: Polish Psychological Association, 2002), pp. 581–601. B. B. Whiting and J. W. M. Whiting, Children of Six Cultures: A Psycho-cultural Analysis (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1975). World Bank, World Development Indicators 2003. 2003 (http://web.worldbank.org).

7

Turkish family structure and functioning Bilge Ataca

A former student and a current colleague of Ci
¸ gdem Ka
gıt¸cıba¸sı, I have found myself ever inspired by her character and her theoretical work. Originally a non-psychology major, the course of my professional life changed dramatically when Ka
gıtc¸ ıba¸sı introduced me to social psychology and cultural influences on human behavior. Raised in a “family of psychological interdependence” with an autonomous-related self, I have been very much intrigued by her Model of Family Change, which guided the present chapter.

Turkey is at the crossroads between the East and the West, characterized by much heterogeneity and social change. This has led to the emergence of many Turkish family prototypes (Ataca 2006; Sunar and Fi¸sek 2005). In general, they could be categorized under two prototypes, namely, the traditional family of interdependence and the family of psychological (emotional) interdependence based on Ka
gıt¸cıba¸sı’s (1990, 1996, 2007) Model of Family Change. Ka
gıt¸cıba¸sı’s model distinguishes among three prototypical family patterns. The first, “family model of interdependence,” is more common in less developed, rural, agrarian contexts with “cultures of relatedness” or collectivism and is characterized by both psychological and material interdependencies in the family system. The contrasting pattern of “family model of independence” is more common in western industrial urban settings with individualistic cultures in which both dependencies are low. A third pattern, the “family model of psychological (emotional) interdependence,” is a synthesis of the first two patterns and characterizes the urban and more developed socioeconomic contexts with cultures of relatedness, in which psychological interdependencies continue, while material interdependencies weaken. The Model of Family Change involves a shift toward the family model of psychological interdependence with urbanization, social change, and economic growth in family-collectivistic cultures. In Turkey, rural contexts and less affluent urban groups with rural backgrounds are characterized by the family model of interdependence, and urban groups with higher education and income levels are portrayed by the family model of psychological (emotional) interdependence. Strong trends 108

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109

toward both individuation and relatedness are observed among the latter _ _ ( Imamo
glu 1987; Imamo
glu and Karakitapo
glu-Ayg€ un 2004; Ka
gıt¸cıba¸sı and Ataca 2005) as this model integrates both autonomy and relatedness. Ka
gıtc¸ ıba¸sı (1990, 1996, 2007) formulated the Model of Family Change based on the findings of the Value of Children (VOC) study that was carried out in the 1970s (Fawcett 1983; Hoffman 1987, 1988; Ka
gıt¸cıba¸sı 1982). This study was nation-wide, conducted by Ka
gıt¸cıba¸sı as part of a nine-country research project investigating the motivations for childbearing and values attributed to children by parents (Ka
gıtc¸ ıba¸sı 1982). In this original study, VOCs were conceptualized as psychological or motivational variables mediating between antecedent socioeconomic factors and consequent fertility outcome. The overall VOC was construed as the sum total of psychological, social, and economic benefits and costs that parents derive from having children. The VOC findings pointed to different types of values attributed to children and showed that these different values were differentially affected by economic development. Three different types of values were found in the original study, namely, economic/utilitarian, psychological, and social. The economic/utilitarian values include children’s material benefits to their families while they are young in the form of contribution to household economy and household chores, and also old-age security for parents when they grow up to be adults. The psychological value of the child refers to the psychological benefits of having children, such as the joy, fun, companionship, pride, and sense of accomplishment that children give to their parents. Finally, the social VOC has to do with the social acceptance people enjoy when they have children. The main finding of the original Turkish VOC study, based on crosssectional comparisons, was that with socio-economic development, and especially with increased education, children’s economic/utilitarian value decreased. This was the case for different indicators of economic/ utilitarian VOC (children providing old-age security; specific financial support in old age; help with household chores or material help while young) and using different indicators of socio-economic development (Ka
gıtc¸ ıba¸sı 1982). Initially, Ka
gıtc¸ ıba¸sı (1985) interpreted this as decreased intergenerational dependency and increased separation/ nucleation in the family in the form of greater independence of the young. Later, these changes were understood to be taking place only with respect to material needs satisfied by children. Emotional (psychological) dependencies, as reflected in psychological VOC, on the other hand, were found to continue with socio-economic development (Ka
gıtc¸ ıba¸sı 1982). In other VOC countries as well, in contrast to economic VOC,

110

Bilge Ataca

psychological VOC was found not to change with socio-economic status (Fawcett 1983). The reconceptualization of the original VOC study findings led to the distinction among the three family prototypes and the Model of Family Change through socio-economic development. Other studies with urban groups in Turkey also showed a continuation, even an increase, in emotional interdependence, but, a decrease in material dependencies with socio-economic development, especially with increased education. In a study of upper, middle, and lower class _ urban groups, Imamo
glu (1987) found that all parents, including upper middle class ones who did not want their children to be grateful to them, wanted them to be more loving and close. Parents also desired that children became more respectful as they grew older, pointing to the continuing emotional interdependence and relatedness. Sunar (1990) found decreasing expectations of economic interdependence over three generations of middle class urban families, and all three generations emphasized the psychological values attributed to children more than their economic value. In yet another study, Ataca and Sunar (1999) found that financial contribution did not constitute an important reason for having children for urban middle class women, whereas “to love” and “to be loved” emerged as highly important reasons. Overall, compared with previous findings, there was a decrease in the economic value and an increase in the psychological value of children. The VOC study has recently been partially replicated in Turkey (Ataca et al. 2005; Ka
gıt¸cıba¸sı and Ataca 2005) as part of a multinational project. The study comprised three generations from middle/upper middle _ and lower socio-economic strata in a large metropolitan center ( Istanbul) and from two rural areas in western and eastern provinces of Turkey. The most notable change over a thirty-year period was the significant increase in the psychological and the corresponding decrease in the economic/ utilitarian value of the child. It was found that rural and less affluent urban groups endorsed economic/utilitarian values to a greater extent, which pointed to the greater actual contribution of children to family economy, both while they are young and especially when they become adults. Psychological VOC remained high across generations and different socio-economic groups. Hence, in terms of intergenerational dependencies, it was material interdependencies that decreased with socio-economic development, not psychological (emotional) ones. Similar trends that have supported the Model of Family Change have been observed in other countries. In Korea, the psychological aspects of childbearing have become more important compared to thirty years ago (Kim et al. 2005). The German VOC study found that more highly

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111

educated women adopted lower instrumental values of children and younger generations opted for more emotional values (Klaus et al. 2005). Emotional value of children was more salient in urban samples in India (Mishra et al. 2005) and Indonesia (Albert et al. 2005). Turkish households (including rural) are in general nuclear in structure (Berik 1995; Delaney 1991; Starr 1989; Timur 1972). However, nuclear families function like extended families, with close social ties, much social support and interaction among close relatives, who also live close to each other. Emotional bonding and social contact among family _ _ members is very strong (Duben 1982; Imamo
glu 1987; Imamo
glu and Karakitapo
glu-Ayg€ un 1999), hence the Turkish family is characterized as “functionally extended” (Abadan-Unat 1986; Ka
gıt¸cıba¸sı 1982; Kandiyoti 1974). Individuals grow up in a “culture of relatedness” (Ka
gıtc¸ ıba¸sı 1985, 1996), where they frequently interact with a wide network of relatives, including grandparents, aunts, uncles, and cousins (Ba¸stu
g 2002). Ties between parents and children, between siblings, and the children of siblings are extremely close. Children of both sexes stay at home with their parents until they get married (Koc¸ 2002); close ties with parents involving frequent interaction continue after marriage as well (Ba¸stu
g 2002; Hortac¸ su 1995). Family members take care of the elderly whether they live in an extended or a nuclear family household (Aytac¸ 1998). However, the elderly prefer to live in separate households nearby. A nationwide family survey in 1988 showed that co-residence with the elderly (including aunts and uncles) was low (22 percent) compared to living nearby an elderly family member (48 percent) (ibid.). Co-residence with the elderly was more common in rural areas compared to metropolitan and other urban areas. The more educated were less likely to co-reside with the elderly members. Sunar’s (2002) study on child-rearing practices in three generations of urban middle class Turkish families pointed to both continuities and changes over generations. All three generations reported parental behaviors that emphasized the importance of the family over the individual. Much emotional closeness in the family was indicated, especially between mothers and children, and to a lesser extent between fathers and daughters. It was also reported that urban middle class parents in all three generations attributed a higher value to daughters compared to rural and rural-origin groups. The present chapter aims to examine Turkish family structure and functioning in a sample of Turkish university students drawn for a multinational family project that studied twenty-seven countries (see Georgas et al. 2006b). The goal of the family project was to examine

112

Bilge Ataca

how families in countries around the world were similar and different in their family networks and family roles. Method Participants A total of 211 Turkish university students (165 women, 46 men) at _ Bo
gazic¸ i University and Marmara University in Istanbul, Turkey, participated in the study. The mean age of the sample was 19.36 years, ranging from 17 to 24, with a SD of 1.46. Instruments The participants filled out a questionnaire that included demographic questions and several instruments. The demographic information consisted of the participant’s age, gender, place of birth, population of place of residence (1 ¼ less than 10,000 to 6 ¼ more than 2,000,000; 1–5 were later aggregated to denote less populated places of residence and 6 denoted more populated places of residence) and parental education (1 ¼ primary school, 2 ¼ secondary school, 3 ¼ high school, 4 ¼ university). The following instruments are the ones that were used for the analyses reported in the present chapter. Social structural variables The social structural variables included geographical proximity, frequency of visits, frequency of telephone calls with father, mother, siblings, grandfather, grandmother, and uncle/aunt:  Geographical proximity. Geographical proximity to the family members mentioned above was measured by a seven-point scale: in the same house (7), upstairs/downstairs/next apartment (6), opposite house or building (5), in the same neighborhood (4), in the same town/city (3), in a town/city close-by (2), live far away (1).  Frequency of visits. Frequency of visits with family members was measured by a six-point scale: daily (6), once or twice a week (5), every two weeks (4), once a month (3), once or twice a year (2), rarely (1).  Frequency of telephone calls. Frequency of telephone calls with family members was measured by a six-point scale: Daily (6), once or twice a week (5), every two weeks (4), once a month (3), once or twice a year (2), rarely (1). Emotional distance This variable was measured by a scale (Georgas et al. 2001) made up of eight concentric circles. The central

Turkish family structure and functioning

113

concentric circle represented the self. The remaining seven circles represented a seven-point scale ranging from very far (1) to very close (7). The respondents were asked to indicate how close they felt to twentyone persons in their society, including family members, relatives, and various social role categories. The closer to the self (the center) they assigned a family member or a relative, the closer they felt to him/her. For the present analyses, emotional distance to members of the nuclear family (mother, father, brothers, and sisters), the extended family (grandparents, uncles/aunts, and cousins), and spouse or girl/boy friend was employed. Family roles The Family Roles questionnaire was developed by Georgas et al. in order to assess family functions in the multinational project (see Georgas et al. 2006c). Twenty-two roles were defined in the following areas: psychological environment and traditions, kinship relations, hierarchical power, housework, school, play, manners and support of children, finances, babysitting, and helping parents with economic activities. A six-point scale was employed from very much (6) to not at all (1) for roles associated with psychological environment, relations, and power, and from almost always (6) to never (1) for roles related to finances and childcare. The nine family positions whose roles were examined were father, mother, grandfather, grandmother, uncle/ aunt, 20-year-old male, 20-year-old female, 10-year-old boy, 10-yearold girl (ibid.). Procedure The data were gathered by psychology major stu_ dents at two public universities in Istanbul. The questionnaire was administered to university students in classroom settings. It took approximately one hour to fill out the questionnaires. Results The descriptive statistics of the variables are reported in Tables 7.1 and 7.2. Social structural variables In terms of geographical proximity, over 90 percent of the participants lived with their parents and approximately 83 percent lived with their siblings in the same house. One-third of the sample lived in the same town/city as the grandparents, approximately 15 percent lived in a nearby town/city, and another one-third lived farther away; 8 percent of the participants lived together with grandmothers. Around 90 and 80

114 9 (4.6) 3 (1.5) 5 (2.6) 1 (0.5) – 1 (0.5) 176(90.3) 761.71*** 5 1 (0.5) 4 (2.1) 6 (3.1) 5 (2.6) 8 (4.2) 168 (87.5) 694.44*** 5

1. Geographical proximity Far away Nearby town/city Same town/city Same neighborhood Opposite house/ building Upstairs/downstairs/ next flat Same house

v2 (df )

2. Visits Rarely Once or twice a year Once a month Every 2 weeks Once or twice a week Daily

v2 (df )

Father N (%)

700.74*** 4

– 1 (0.5) 3 (1.5) 1 (.5) 4 (2.0) 188 (95.4)

534.89*** 3

5 (2.5) 2 (1.0) 1 (0.5) – – – 191(96.0)

Mother N (%)

Table 7.1. Frequencies of social structural variables

510.67*** 5

1 (0.5) 8 (4.4) 8 (4.4) 6 (3.3) 16 (8.7) 144 (78.7)

457.57*** 4

12 (6.5) 5 (2.7) 14 (7.6) – 1 (0.5) – 153(82.7)

Siblings N (%)

43.79*** 5

16 (12.6) 43 (33.9) 31 (24.4) 10 (7.9) 20 (15.7) 7 (5.5)

81.93*** 5

47 (35.9) 21 (16.0) 43 (32.8) 10 (7.6) 5 (3.8) 5 (3.8) –

Grandfather N (%)

(8.5) (27.3) (20.6) (11.5) (18.8) (13.3) 23.47*** 5

14 45 34 19 31 22

89.23*** 6

50 (29.2) 25 (14.6) 51 (29.8) 19 (11.1) 5 (2.9) 7 (4.1) 14 (8.2)

Grandmother N (%)

(6.8) (20.8) (26.0) (14.6) (24.5) (7.3) 41.06*** 5

13 40 50 28 47 14

251.64*** 6

36 (18.4) 15 (7.7) 102 (52.0) 20 (10.2) 4 (2.0) 12 (6.1) 7 (3.6)

Uncles/aunts N (%)

115

106.68*** 5

v2 (df )

*** p < 0.0001.

45 (27.1) 3 (1.8) 9 (5.4) 8 (4.8) 39 (23.5) 62 (37.3)

3. Telephone calls Rarely Once or twice a year Once a month Every 2 weeks Once or twice a week Daily 130.31*** 5

42 (25.1) 4 (2.4) 7 (4.2) 5 (3.0) 39 (23.4) 70 (41.9) 114.69*** 5

39 (25.2) 1 (0.6) 4 (2.6) 8 (5.2) 46 (29.7) 57 (36.8) 30.07*** 5

35 (30.2) 11 (9.5) 27 (23.3) 20 (17.2) 18 (15.5) 5 (4.3)

(21.9) (8.6) (21.9) (16.6) (23.8) (7.3)

23.40*** 5

33 13 33 25 36 11

(13.3) (11.6) (21.4) (17.9) (28.9) (6.9) 31.73*** 5

23 20 37 31 50 12

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Bilge Ataca

Table 7.2. Descriptive statistics for emotional distance and family roles Actual range of scores

Cronbach’s alpha

Variable

N

Mean (SD)i

Emotional distance Father Mother Siblings Grandparents Uncles/aunts Cousins Spouse/Girlfriend/ Boyfriend

201 201 201 201 201 201 201

5.98 6.61 6.22 5.01 5.06 4.84 6.18

(1.33)b (0.87)a (1.02)b (1.49)c (1.40)c (1.59)c (1.29)b

1–7 1–7 1–7 1–7 1–7 1–7 1–7

206 211 211 206

4.49 5.20 3.07 4.13

(0.96)b (0.87) (1.15) (0.84)1

1.22–6.00 1–6 1–6

0.88 0.77 0.72

206 211 211 206

5.15 4.38 3.48 3.94

(0.58)a (1.03) (1.13) (0.85)1

2.22–6.00 1.60–6.00 1.33–6.00

0.76 0.72 0.68

206 206

3.85 (1.15)d 2.29 (0.89)5

1–6 1.00–5.18

0.92 0.85

206 206

4.13 (1.07)c 2.51(0.86)4

1.00–5.90 1.00–5.45

0.90 0.83

206 206

3.31 (0.91)e 2.36 (0.82)4, 5

1.00–5.80 1.00–4.91

0.87 0.84

206 206

2.97 (0.85)f 1.76 (0.66)7

1.00–5.29 1–4

0.75 0.68

206 206

3.12 (0.82)e 1.89 (0.71)6

1.00–5.29 1.00–4.50

0.74 0.68

206 206

3.61 (0.85)d 2.99 (0.77)3

1.14–5.43 1.00–4.83

0.81 0.67

206 206

3.94 (0.76)c, 3.33 (0.77)2

1.80–5.83 1.00–5.17

0.71 0.69

Family roles Father Expressiveii Financial Childcare Instrumentaliii Mother Expressive Financial Childcare Instrumental Grandfather Expressive Instrumental Grandmother Expressive Instrumental Uncles/aunts Expressive Instrumental Ten-year-old son Expressive Instrumental Ten-year-old daughter Expressive Instrumental Twenty-year-old son Expressive Instrumental Twenty-year-old daughter Expressive Instrumental

d

Notes: i Means that do not share a letter superscript differ ( p < 0.05). ii Means of expressive roles that do not share a letter superscript differ ( p < 0.05). iii Means of instrumental roles that do not share a number superscript differ ( p < 0.05).

Turkish family structure and functioning

117

percent were in daily interaction with parents and siblings, respectively. Approximately one-third of the sample met with grandparents once or twice a year. Over half met with grandparents and 72 percent met with uncles/aunts once a month or more often. In relation to phone calls, over one-third talked to their parents and siblings on the phone daily, 37 percent talked to their grandfather and close to 50 percent talked to their grandmother and uncles/aunts on the phone every two weeks or more often (see Table 7.1). Emotional distance A repeated measures ANOVA showed that emotional distance differed significantly among family members (Wilks’ Lambda ¼ 0.30, F (6,195) ¼ 77.40, p < 0.001, multivariate partial eta squared ¼ 0.70). Multiple comparisons with Bonferroni adjustment showed that mother was the closest, followed by siblings, girl-/boy-friend and father, who were equally close; emotionally, the least close were uncles/aunts, grandparents, and cousins (see Table 7.2). In order to examine how emotional distance to family members was influenced by socio-economic status (SES) and population of place of residence, a two-way between-groups multivariate analysis of variance (MANOVA) was conducted, with father’s education (as a proxy for SES) and population as the independent variables and emotional distance to family members as the dependent variable. The overall multivariate tests were not significant, which showed that the combined dependent variables were not affected significantly by either population or father’s education. Family roles The analyses concerning family roles were based on two factors, namely, expressive and instrumental, that were structurally equivalent across the twenty-seven countries in the multinational project. These two factors defined the roles of parents, grandparents, uncles/aunts, and siblings. In the case of parents, the expressive role of the mother and the father dealt with providing emotional support to the spouse, the children, and the grandparents, keeping the family united, maintaining a pleasant environment, conveying traditions and religion to children, preserving family relations, and supporting grandparents. For parents, the instrumental role was further divided into financial and childcare roles. The financial role involved doing shopping, contributing financially to the family, managing finances, giving pocket money to children, and

118

Bilge Ataca

supporting children at the beginning of their career. The childcare role included taking children to school, playing with children, and helping children with homework. The expressive role of the grandparents and uncles/aunts concerned providing emotional support and conveying traditions and religion to grandchildren/nephews/nieces, giving emotional support to parents, keeping the family united, maintaining a pleasant environment, preserving family relations, supporting grandchildren/nephews/nieces, protecting the family, and teaching manners to grandchildren/nephews/ nieces. The instrumental role referred to resolving disputes, doing housework, doing shopping, taking grandchildren/nephews/nieces to school, helping grandchildren/nephews/nieces with homework, giving pocket money to grandchildren/nephews/nieces, contributing financially, managing finances, babysitting, supporting grandchildren/nephews/nieces at the beginning of their career, and helping parents with work. The expressive role of the siblings involved giving emotional support to grandparents and siblings, keeping the family united, maintaining a pleasant environment, conveying traditions and religion to younger siblings, and preserving family relations. The instrumental role involved doing housework, doing shopping, taking siblings to school, contributing financially, helping parents with their work, and babysitting siblings. Analyses concerning family roles are reported in two parts; the first part compares expressive and instrumental roles among family members, and the second part examines the effect of socio-economic development on family roles in order to evaluate Ka
gıt¸cıba¸sı’s (1990, 1996, 2007) Model of Family Change. The roles of family members were compared by using repeated measures ANOVA analyses. Expressive roles differed significantly among family members (Wilks’ Lambda ¼ 0.10, F (8, 198) ¼ 225.10, p < 0.001, multivariate partial eta squared ¼ 0.90). Multiple comparisons with Bonferroni adjustment showed that the expressive role of the mother was the highest, followed by that of the father, grandmother, 20year-old daughter, grandfather, 20-year-old son, uncles/aunts, 10-yearold daughter, and 10-year-old son (see Table 7.2). Instrumental roles of mother and father were formed by taking the average of their financial and childcare roles. Instrumental roles differed significantly among family members (Wilks’ Lambda ¼ 0.10, F (8, 198) ¼ 231.56, p < 0.001, multivariate partial eta squared ¼ 0.90]. Multiple comparisons with Bonferroni adjustment showed that the instrumental roles of the mother and the father were the highest, followed by that of the 20-year-old daughter, 20-year-old son, grandmother, uncles/aunts, grandfather, 10year-old daughter, and 10-year-old son (see Table 7.2). Paired-samples

Turkish family structure and functioning

119

t-tests showed that the financial role of the father was higher than that of the mother, t (210) ¼ 8.34, p < 0.001, and the childcare role of the mother was higher than that of the father, t (210) ¼ 5.51, p < 0.001 (see Table 7.2). A two-way between-groups MANOVA was conducted in order to examine the effect of socio-economic status (SES) and population of place of residence on family roles. Since the required statistical assumptions could not be met for the financial role of the father, findings related to this variable will not be reported. The combined dependent variables were significantly affected by both population, F (20, 155) ¼ 1.67, p < 0.05; Pillai’s Trace ¼ 0.18; partial eta squared ¼ 0.18, and father’s education, F (60, 471) ¼ 1.46, p < 0.05; Pillai’s Trace ¼ 0.47; partial eta squared ¼ 0.16 but not by their interaction, F (60, 471) ¼ 0.96, p > 0.05. This analysis revealed that the population of place of residence had no significant effect on the expressive and childcare roles of the father, the expressive role of the mother, any of the roles of the grandparents, uncles/aunts, and siblings, except for the expressive role of the 10-year-old daughter. Father’s education had no significant effect on the expressive roles of the father and the mother, the childcare role of the mother, any of the roles of the grandparents, uncles/aunts, and the expressive roles of the 10-year-old son, 10-year-old daughter, 20-yearold son, 20-year-old daughter, and the instrumental role of the 20-yearold son. A separate MANOVA employing only the family roles that were significant in the previous analysis as the dependent variables and father’s education and population as the independent variables showed that the dependent variables were significantly affected by both population, F (8, 168) ¼ 2.35, p < 0.05; Pillai’s Trace ¼ 0.10; partial eta squared ¼ 0.10, and father’s education, F (24, 510) ¼ 1.99, p < 0.01; Pillai’s Trace ¼ 0.26; partial eta squared ¼ 0.09, but not by their interaction, F (24, 510) ¼ 1.11, p > 0.05. Population had a significant effect on the financial role of the mother, F (1, 175) ¼ 4.20, p < 0.05, partial eta squared ¼ 0.02, childcare role of the mother, F (1, 175) ¼ 5.49, p < 0.05, partial eta squared ¼ 0.03, and the expressive role of the 10-year-old daughter, F (1, 175) ¼ 4.77, p < 0.05, partial eta squared ¼ 0.03. An examination of the mean scores indicated that mother’s financial and childcare roles, and 10-year-old daughter’s expressive roles were less in lower populated places of residence than in higher populated places of residence (see Table 7.3). Father’s education had a significant effect on the childcare role of the father, financial role of the mother, and the instrumental roles of the 10-year-old son, 10-year-old daughter, and 20-year-old daughter (see Table 7.3). Post hoc analyses using polynomial contrasts showed that father’s childcare role and mother’s financial role

120

Low High Total

Low High Total

Low High Total

Low High Total

Low High Total

Low High Total

Low High Total

Mother’s financial role

Mother’s childcare role

Ten-year-old son instrumental role

Ten-year-old daughter instrumental role

Ten-year-old daughter expressive role

Twenty-year-old daughter instrumental role

Population

Father’s childcare role

Father education

3.94 3.63 3.75

3.09 3.39 3.28

2.44 2.21 2.30

2.23 2.08 2.14

2.57 3.78 3.32

3.91 4.17 4.07

2.61 3.14 2.94

M

0.53 0.88 0.77

0.99 0.74 0.84

0.62 0.85 0.77

0.62 0.83 0.75

0.92 1.05 1.16

0.89 0.95 0.92

1.20 1.15 1.18

SD

Primary

3.33 3.52 3.50

2.21 3.45 3.29

2.33 2.09 2.12

2.08 1.93 1.95

3.00 3.90 3.79

3.10 4.10 3.98

3.00 3.12 3.10

M

0.00 0.86 0.80

0.71 0.60 0.73

0.24 0.80 0.75

0.59 0.72 0.69

0.00 1.29 1.24

0.14 0.91 0.91

0.00 0.92 0.86

SD

Secondary

3.19 2.99 3.02

2.94 3.25 3.19

1.67 1.61 1.62

1.60 1.52 1.53

3.24 3.45 3.41

4.06 4.42 4.35

0.43 0.59 0.56

0.90 0.95 0.94

0.51 0.49 0.49

0.48 0.46 0.46

1.21 1.07 1.09

0.86 1.08 1.04

0.84 1.11 1.06

SD

High

3.00 2.83 2.86

M

Table 7.3. Family roles by population and father education

3.40 3.21 3.26

3.24 3.09 3.12

2.02 1.71 1.78

1.86 1.59 1.65

3.57 3.64 3.62

4.43 4.71 4.65

3.38 3.49 3.46

M

0.81 0.75 0.76

0.63 0.79 0.76

0.80 0.65 0.70

0.72 0.60 0.63

0.92 1.07 1.04

1.19 0.88 0.96

0.88 1.09 1.04

SD

University

3.53 3.26 3.33

3.10 3.21 3.18

2.11 1.81 1.88

1.94 1.69 1.75

3.17 3.65 3.53

4.15 4.49 4.41

3.06 3.24 3.20

M

0.71 0.77 0.77

0.81 0.81 0.81

0.72 0.70 0.72

0.67 0.65 0.66

1.03 1.09 1.09

1.05 0.96 0.99

1.01 1.11 1.09

SD

Total

4.95 (3, 175)

5.84 (3, 175)

5.25 (3, 175)

3.80 (3, 175)

2.66 (3, 175)

F(df)

0.01

0.01

0.01

0.05

0.05

p<

0.08

0.09

0.08

0.06

0.04

Partial eta squared

Turkish family structure and functioning

121

increased with father’s education. Instrumental roles of the 10-year-old son, 10-year-old daughter, and 20-year-old daughter decreased as father’s education level increased (see Table 7.3). Discussion The findings of the Turkish family project have provided much insight into current family structure and functioning in Turkish culture. The social structural variables and the family roles showed that the Turkish family is structurally nuclear yet functionally extended (Ka
gıtc¸ ıba¸sı 1996). A great majority of the participants lived in the same house with parents and siblings and they were in daily interaction with them. Only a very few lived together with grandparents and uncles/aunts; however, they visited and phoned them on a regular basis. Each family member was above the mid-point in terms of closeness; hence, overall, one felt close to all of the family members. However, one also distinguished between the nuclear and the extended family. Mother was the closest, followed by siblings, girl/boyfriend, and father, who were equally close; uncles/aunts, grandparents, and cousins were the least close. Moreover, emotional bonds with family members were not influenced by either socio-economic status or population of place of residence. These findings are in concordance with the findings of the multinational family project and also with the previous literature on Turkish family. In all the countries of the multinational family project, the emotional bonds with the nuclear family were very strong, much stronger than with the extended family (Georgas et al. 2006a). Another universal pattern was that the closest emotional bonds were with mother, second with siblings, and third with father. Similar results were also found in a study of sixteen countries (Georgas et al. 2001). Recent research showed that urban Turkish youth felt emotionally closer to their mothers than to their fathers (Hortac¸ su et al. 1995; Sunar 2002); they also communicated more with their mothers than with their fathers (Hortac¸ su 1989). However, closeness to mother and father may have different meanings. Fi¸sek’s (1995) study with urban families showed that information about self and decisions were shared more in father– child pairs, whereas emotional sharing and touching were more evident in mother–child pairs. Family functioning was assessed in terms of expressive and instrumental family roles, which denote psychological and material interdependencies, respectively, in Ka
gıt¸cıba¸sı’s Model of Family Change. The findings showed that expressive roles were higher than instrumental roles for all family members. Mothers had greater expressive and childcare roles

122

Bilge Ataca

than fathers, while fathers had a greater financial role. Older children had greater expressive and instrumental roles than younger children. These findings were all similar with those of the multinational project, pointing to potential universals (Georgas et al. 2006a). In addition, instrumental functions in the family were found to be mostly carried out by parents and older children. Except for the expressive roles of older children, daughters had greater expressive and instrumental roles than sons. The perceptions of university students in terms of greater roles of younger and older daughters in maintaining family functions illustrate the greater value of girls for parents. Traditionally, sons have been preferred over daughters because of their economic/utilitarian value in contributing to the family’s welfare through financial and practical help and care in old age (Ka
gıtc¸ ıba¸sı 1982, 1996, 2007). However, recent research in Turkey reported that urban parents preferred daughters over sons and stressed the psychological value of children, such as the joy, fun, companionship, pride, and sense of accomplishment that they gained from having children (Ataca and Sunar 1999; Ka
gıtc¸ ıba¸sı and Ataca 2005; Sunar 2002). Changes brought about by urbanization and socio-economic development such as compulsory education and nonagricultural urban living conditions decreased the material contributions and increased the material costs of children to their parents. Sons no longer satisfy the needs for material support and old-age security (Ka
gıtc¸ ıba¸sı 1996, 2007). An interesting finding was that urban middle class mothers perceived daughters, more than sons, as a prospective help in old age (Ataca and Sunar 1999). Hence, daughters are more likely to be preferred as companions for themselves and as helpers when they are young, as well as when they are grown up (Ataca et al. 2005). A question that may be raised by the present study concerns the nature of the participants. Even though Ka
gıtc¸ ıba¸sı’s Model of Family Change is more about adults’ attitudinal/behavioral orientations, the perceptions of university students are assessed in the present study. However, university students represent the younger generations of a society which would be most open to adopt changes. Hence, foreseeable changes in the family will most likely be manifested earlier by this group (Georgas et al. 2006a). In fact, the findings from this group were very much in line with the Model of Family Change. The Turkish family project findings provide further support for Ka
gıt¸cıba¸sı’s (1990, 1996, 2007) Model of Family Change in a variety of ways. Regardless of socio-economic development, emotional bonds with family were very close and expressive family roles were much greater than instrumental roles. It was the instrumental roles that showed variations with socio-economic development. Apart from the instrumental

Turkish family structure and functioning

123

roles of parents, the results suggested that the instrumental role of younger children and the older daughter was more influenced (decreased) by socio-economic development than of any other family member. In terms of intergenerational dependencies in Ka
gıtc¸ ıba¸sı’s model, these all point to continuing psychological, yet weakening material, interdependencies with socio-economic development. Material benefits from children are expected to a lesser extent with increasing socio-economic development and children’s psychological value becomes more important for parents. These are all characteristic of the family model of psychological (emotional) interdependence and material independence that prevail in the urban and more socio-economically developed contexts with cultures of relatedness. The emerging coexistence of traditional and western characteristics in the Turkish middle class urban family is portrayed in this synthesis, which reflects the heterogeneity and social change characteristic of contemporary Turkey. references N. Abadan-Unat, Women in the Developing World: Evidence from Turkey (Colorado: University of Denver, 1986). I. Albert, G. Trommsdorff, B. Mayer, and B. Schwarz, “Value of children in urban and rural Indonesia: Socio-demographic indicators, cultural aspects and empirical findings,” in G. Trommsdorff and B. Nauck (eds.), The Value of Children in Cross-cultural Perspective: Case Studies from Eight Societies (Berlin: Pabst Science, 2005), pp. 171–208). B. Ataca, “Turkey,” in J. Georgas, J. W. Berry, F. J. R. van de Vijver, C. ¸ Ka
gıt¸cıba¸sı, and Y. Poortinga (eds.), Families across Cultures: A 30-nation Psychological Study (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2006), pp. 467–74. B. Ataca and D. Sunar, “Continuity and change in Turkish urban family life,” Psychology and Developing Societies, 11 (1999), 77–90. B. Ataca, C. ¸ Ka
gıtc¸ ıba¸sı, and A. Diri, “The Turkish family and the value of children: Trends over time,” in G. Trommsdorff and B. Nauck (eds.), The Value of Children in Cross-cultural Perspective: Case Studies from Eight Societies (Berlin: Pabst, 2005), pp. 91–119. I. A. Aytac¸ , “Intergenerational living arrangements in Turkey,” Journal of CrossCultural Gerontology, 13 (1998), 241–64. S. Ba¸stu
g, “Household and family in Turkey: An historical perspective,” in € E. Ozdalga and R. Liljestrom (eds.), Autonomy and Dependence in Family: Turkey and Sweden in Critical Perspective (Istanbul: Swedish Research Institute, 2002), pp. 99–115. G. Berik, “Towards an understanding of gender hierarchy in Turkey: A comparative analysis of carpet-weaving villages,” in S. ¸ Tekeli (ed.), Women in Modern Turkish Society: A Reader (London: Zed Books, 1995), pp. 112–27. C. Delaney, The Seed and the Soil: Gender and Cosmology in Turkish Village Society (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1991).

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A. Duben, “The significance of family and kinship in urban Turkey,” in C. ¸ Ka
gıtc¸ ıba¸sı (ed.), Sex Roles, Family and Community in Turkey (Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1982), pp. 73–99. J. T. Fawcett, “Perceptions of the value of children,” in R. Bulatao, R. D. Lee, P. E. Hollerbach, and J. Bongaarts (eds.), Determinants of Fertility in the Developing Countries (Washington, DC: National Academy Press, 1983), pp. 347–69. G. O. Fi¸sek, “Gender hierarchy: Is it a useful concept in describing family structure?,” in J. van Lawick and M. Sanders (eds.), Family, Gender and Beyond (Heemstede, The Netherlands: LS Books, 1995), pp. 63–72. J. Georgas, J. W. Berry, and C. ¸ Ka
gıtc¸ ıba¸sı, “Synthesis: How similar and how different are families across cultures?,” in J. Georgas, J. W. Berry, F. J. R. Van de Vijver, C. ¸ Ka
gıt¸cıba¸sı, and Y. H. Poortinga (eds.), Families across Cultures: A 30-nation Psychological Study (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2006a), pp. 186–240. J. Georgas, J. W. Berry, F. J. R. van de Vijver, C. ¸ Ka
gıt¸cıba¸sı, and Y. H. Poortinga (eds.), Families across Cultures: A 30-nation Psychological Study (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2006b). J. Georgas, K. Mylonas, T. Bafiti, Y. H. Poortinga, C. ¸ Ka
gıtc¸ ıba¸sı, S. Orung et al., “Functional relationships in the nuclear and extended family: A 16-culture study,” International Journal of Psychology, 36 (2001), 289–300. J. Georgas, F. J. R. van de Vijver, J. W. Berry, Y. H. Poortinga, and C. ¸ Ka
gıt¸cıba¸sı, “Methodology of the study,” in J. Georgas, J. W. Berry, F. J. R. van de Vijver, C. ¸ Ka
gıt¸cıba¸sı, and Y. H. Poortinga (eds.), Families across Cultures: A 30-nation Psychological Study (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2006c), pp. 111–25. L. W. Hoffman, “The value of children to parents and childrearing parents,” in C. ¸ Ka
gıt¸cıba¸sı (ed.), Growth and Progress in Cross-cultural Psychology (Lisse, The Netherlands: Swetz & Zeitlinger, 1987), pp. 159–70. L. W. Hoffman, “Cross-cultural differences in child-rearing goals,” New Directions for Child Development, 40 (1988), 99–122. N. Hortac¸ su, “Targets of communication during adolescence,” Journal of Adolescence, 12 (1989), 253–63. N. Horta¸csu, “Prelude to marriage in Ankara: Educational level, reasons for marriage, feelings for spouse and families,” Bo
g azic¸i Journal, 9 (1995), 185–205. €z, and A. Oral, “Perceived functions of family and friends N. Horta¸csu, T. Gen¸co during childhood, adolescence, and youth: Developmental theories of two Turkish groups,” International Journal of Psychology, 30 (1995), 591–606. _ O. Imamo
glu, “An interdependence model of human development,” in C. ¸ Ka
gıt¸cıba¸sı (ed.), Growth and Progress in Cross-cultural Psychology (Lisse: Swets and Zeitlinger, 1987), pp. 138–45. _ O. Imamo
glu and Z. Karakitapo
glu-Ayg€ un, “1970lerden 1990lara de
gerler: Universite d€ uzeyinde g€ ozlenen zaman, ku¸sak ve cinsiyet farklılıkları [Value preferences from the 1970s to 1990s: Cohort, generation and gender differences at a Turkish university],” Turkish Journal of Psychology, 14 (1999), 1–22. _ O. Imamo
glu and Z. Karakitapo
glu-Ayg€ un, “Self-construals and values in different cultural and socioeconomic contexts,” Genetic, Social, and General Psychology Monographs, 130 (2004), 277–306.

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C. ¸ Ka
gıtc¸ ıba¸sı, The Changing Value of Children in Turkey (Publ. No. 60-E) (Honolulu: East-West Center, 1982). C. ¸ Ka
gıtc¸ ıba¸sı, “Culture of separateness-culture of relatedness,” in C. Klopp (ed.), 1984 Vision and Reality. Papers in Comparative Studies. Volume 4 (Columbus: Ohio State University, 1985), pp. 91–99. C. ¸ Ka
gıtc¸ ıba¸sı, “Family and socialization in cross-cultural perspective: A model of change,” in J. Berman (ed.), Cross-cultural Perspectives: Nebraska Symposium on Motivation, 1989 (Lincoln: Nebraska University Press, 1990), pp. 135–200. C. ¸ Ka
gıt¸cıba¸sı, Family and Human Development across Cultures: A View from the Other Side. (Hillsdale, NJ: Lawrence Erlbaum, 1996). C. ¸ Ka
gıtc¸ ıba¸sı, Family, Self, and Human Development across Cultures: Theory and Applications, Second edition (Mahwah, NJ: Lawrence Erlbaum, 2007). C. ¸ Ka
gıtc¸ ıba¸sı and B. Ataca, “Value of children and family change: A threedecade portrait from Turkey,” Applied Psychology: An International Review, 54 (2005), 317–37. D. Kandiyoti, “Some social psychological dimensions of social change in a Turkish village,” British Journal of Sociology, 15 (1974), 47–62. U. Kim, Y.-S. Park, Y.-E. Kwon, and J. Koo, “Values of children, parent–child relationship, and social change in Korea: Indigenous, cultural, and psychological analysis,” Applied Psychology: An International Review, 54 (2005), 338–55. D. Klaus, B. Nauck, and T. Klein, “Families and the value of children in Germany,” in G. Trommsdorff and B. Nauck (eds.), The Value of Children in Cross-cultural Perspective: Case Studies from Eight Societies (Berlin: Pabst Science, 2005), pp. 17–41. I. Ko¸c, “Timing of leaving home in Turkey and its relationship with other life course events,” The Turkish Journal of Population Studies, 23 (2002), 16–24. R. Mishra, B. Mayer, G. Trommsdorff, I. Albert, and B. Schwarz, “Background and empirical results,” in G. Trommsdorff and B. Nauck (eds.), The Value of Children in Cross-cultural Perspective: Case Studies from Eight Societies (Berlin: Pabst Science, 2005), pp. 143–70. J. Starr, “The role of Turkish secular law in changing the lives of rural Muslim women, 1950–1970,” Law and Society Review, 23 (1989), 497–523. D. Sunar, “Changes in Turkish child rearing practices,” paper presented at the workshop on Individualism and Collectivism, Seoul, Korea, July 13–16, 1990. D. Sunar, “Change and continuity in the Turkish middle class family,” in € E. Ozdalga and R. Liljestrom (eds.), Autonomy and Dependence in Family: Turkey and Sweden in Critical Perspective (Istanbul: Swedish Research Institute, 2002), pp. 217–37. D. Sunar and G. Fi¸sek, “Contemporary Turkish families,” in J. L. Roopnarine and U. Gielen (eds.), Families in Global Perspective (Boston, MA: Allyn & Bacon, 2005), pp. 169–83. S. Timur, Family Structure in Turkey (Ankara: Hacettepe University Press, 1972).

8

Mothers’ and fathers’ child-rearing practices and self-esteem in three generations of urban Turkish families Diane Sunar

In Turkish, when you want to talk about an old friend, you might say “my friend of forty years” – usually an exaggeration, but when I talk about Ci
¸ gdem it is literally true. We first met in Berkeley, when she was just finishing up her doctoral dissertation and I had not yet started the program, and we have continued as friends, colleagues, and collaborators through all the years I have been in Turkey. No one could ask for a more loyal friend, a more stimulating colleague or a more energetic and hard-working research collaborator than Ci
gdem. But she has also earned my special admiration as a psychologist who works to “give psychology away to the public,” in George Miller’s phrase, contributing enormously to the establishment of the Mother–Child Education Foundation and its programs, bringing important issues into public debate through popular articles and television appearances, and taking a leading role in the development of professional and academic psychology in Turkey. It has been a privilege to know and work with her for these “forty years.”

The aim of the research reported in this chapter was to investigate the relationship to self-esteem of child-rearing practices of mothers and fathers in three generations of urban middle class Turkish families. A second aim was to investigate similarities and differences between mothers and fathers with regard to several dimensions in their parenting practices with sons and daughters – in other words, to examine the role of both sex of parent and sex of child in parenting practices. Previous studies of the family in Turkish society have tended to use as a starting point the values and practices of traditional rural culture, which are also apt to characterize rural-to-urban migrants, at least for the first generation. For example, Ka
gıt¸cıba¸sı’s portrait of the “interdependent” family (Ka
gıt¸cıba¸sı 1989, 1996), inspired by her earlier work on the value of children (Ka
gıt¸cıba¸sı 1982), summarizes the context and dynamics of the traditional family in rural Turkey, and serves as a baseline for her comparisons with other family models. Likewise, Ka
gıtc¸ ıba¸sı and Sunar (1992), Sunar (2002), and Sunar and Fi¸sek (2005) describe 126

Child rearing and self esteem in Turkish families

127

the traditional rural family, with its patriarchal sex-role segregation, harmony-oriented practices, and expectations of loyalty and obedience from children, as the basis for comparison with more recent developments among the urban middle class. Studies of urban middle class families have consistently found considerable departures from the traditional rural base. For example, female children are more highly valued and children are desired more for psychological than material reasons (Ka
gıt¸cıba¸sı 1982; Ka
gıt¸cıba¸sı and Ataca 2005; see also Duben and Behar 1991), and their parents expect more _ independence and less gratitude from them ( Imamo
glu 1987). In contrast to practices among rural-to-urban migrants, physical punishment is seldom used (Ka
gıt¸cıba¸sı et al. 2001; Sunar 2002; Sunar and Fi¸sek 2005). While incorporating explanatory hypotheses and making use of empirical data, Kagiticibasi’s major theoretical thrust has been normative, attempting to identify the family contexts in which the “autonomousrelational self ” can emerge (Ka
gıt¸cıba¸sı 1996, 2005, 2007). She proposes that, as in the urban middle class in many “majority world” cultures, Turkish urban middle class families provide a suitable milieu for developing this type of self by combining the emotional interdependence of the traditional family with the economic independence of the modern “culture of separateness” in a child-rearing style marked by high relatedness, high control, and encouragement of autonomy. _ Another Turkish researcher with similar concerns, Imamo
glu (1998, 2003), has proposed a “balanced integration-differentiation” model of self in which individuation and relatedness coexist, and has found empirical support both for the existence of such a self structure in Turkish students, and for predictions regarding the parenting practices (high acceptance, low control) associated with it. One main difference between these two approaches, in terms of childrearing practices, is that Ka
gıtc¸ ıba¸sı regards high control as contributing _ to the development of the autonomous-related self, while Imamo
glu finds that low control is related to the “balanced” self. However, it is not clear that both researchers are using the same definition of control. In contrast to this normative orientation, the present study is essentially descriptive, seeking to identify the concrete attitudes and behaviors that characterize parenting in the Turkish urban middle class, as they are perceived by both parents and children; and their variation by generation, sex of parent, and sex of child. The personal characteristic of selfesteem is examined in relation to these parent practices. Recent trends in the literature on child-rearing practices are skeptical about the influence of parents’ behavior on their children’s long-term outcomes (e.g., Harris 1995, 2006; Rowe 1994), particularly in terms of

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personality traits, and to some extent in terms of attitudes, including religious and political attitudes (e.g., D’Onofrio et al. 1999; Olson et al. 2001). However, self-esteem may be one of the areas in which parenting practices and family socialization do have long-term consequences for children. The concept of self-esteem has lost some of its popularity in recent years due to misconstruals regarding its causative influence in various positive life outcomes (see, e.g., Baumeister et al. 2003), and misplaced hopes that those outcomes could be produced by parents and teachers artificially pumping up children’s self esteem (Baumeister et al. 2004). However, there is little argument about the fact that self-esteem is correlated with social and academic success. Likewise, most research on conditions and antecedents of self-esteem look to early experience in the family as one of the most important sources (Franco and Levitt 1998). Work done in several theoretical traditions supports the relationship between parenting behavior and child’s self-esteem. Research by Rohner and his colleagues (summarized in Rohner 2004) presents evidence from studies in many countries that perceived parental acceptance is related to self-esteem, and DeHart et al. (2006) show that perceived parental nurturance is related to implicit as well as explicit self-esteem. Likewise, the literature on attachment theory suggests a positive relationship between self-esteem and secure attachment, which is thought to develop in relation to a warm, sensitive caregiver (Ainsworth 1969; Bowlby 1969; Kenny and Sirin 2006). Coopersmith’s (1967) pioneering work on the antecedents of self-esteem suggested that, in addition to warmth and acceptance, encouragement of the child’s autonomy and high standards for behavior also facilitate the development of high self-esteem. The literature on parenting styles stemming from Baumrind’s (1971) distinctions among authoritative, authoritarian, and permissive parents has found positive associations between the authoritative style (warm and encouraging of autonomy while maintaining high standards for child behavior) and higher levels of self-esteem (e.g., Carlson et al. 2000). Similarly, Deci and Ryan (1985) suggest that close relationships, autonomy support, and competence are the developmental bases of self-esteem. Thus we can expect perceptions of parental warmth and autonomy support to emerge as correlates of self-esteem in the present study. Method Participants A total of 517 respondents participated in the study, consisting of 113 eighth- and ninth-grade children (13 to 15 years of age) of both sexes; all

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of their parents (113 mothers and 113 fathers, ages 34 to 54); and 178 of their grandparents (ages 51 to 83). All the children were attending _ private secondary schools in Istanbul. Only those whose families were intact and who had at least one grandparent who could be contacted were included in the study. Instruments The instruments used were the Child Rearing Practices Report (CRPR; Block 1981) and Coopersmith’s Self Esteem Scale (CSES; Coopersmith 1967). Child rearing practices The CRPR is a ninety-one-item Q sort, used in this study in three versions, one for each of three different targets: the person’s mother, father, and the self in regard to one’s own child (actual or, in the case of the child generation, imagined). These versions will be referred to as the Mother, Father, and Child Q sorts. Printed on cards, equal numbers of items are sorted into seven envelopes with labels ranging from “most descriptive,” coded as 7, to “least descriptive,” coded as 1. Cross-cultural validity of the CRPR has been supported by studies in a wide variety of cultures over many years (e.g., Block and Christiansen 1966; Xu et al. 2005). The Turkish versions were prepared using standard translation–back translation procedures, followed by resolution of discrepancies in consultation with other bilingual judges. The CRPR covers a wide range of parenting attitudes and behaviors, and was originally designed not to have discrete subscales. Nevertheless, it was possible to extract four factors from the Mother and Father versions: (1) Affection, including items referring to displays of affection, comfort, and understanding of the child, along with negatively-loaded items referring to parental anger and parent–child conflict; (2) Control, including items referring to rules, restriction of the child’s emotional expression, lack of trust in the child, and authoritarian style; (3) Discipline, including items referring to various forms of power-assertive discipline and negatively-loaded items referring to reward and induction (cf. Hoffman 1977); and (4) Autonomy, including items referring to encouraging the child to think, wonder, express opinions, and try new things. No meaningful factor structure could be obtained from the Child version of the CRPR. Self-esteem The CSES was translated into Turkish using standard translation–back translation procedures, followed by resolution of

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discrepancies with other bilingual judges. The original fifty-seven-item scale, designed for use with students, was shortened to forty items suitable for use with both students and adults. Respondents check “like me” or “not like me” for each item. The total score is the number of responses reflecting higher self-esteem. Procedure The children completed the Q sorts and responded to the questionnaires in a classroom setting during three sessions of their counseling classes. All children in the class participated, but data from those whose families did not meet the criteria for inclusion in the sample were discarded. The parents and grandparents of included families were interviewed and tested by appointment in two to three home visits each. Results Child-rearing and self-esteem Multivariate analysis of variance was carried out with level of self-esteem (high, middle, or low) as the fixed factor and mother’s and father’s perceived Affection, Control, Discipline, and Autonomy as the dependent variables. As can be seen in Table 8.1, mother’s perceived parenting practices are more strongly related than father’s to child’s selfesteem. Mother’s perceived affection and autonomy-fostering style are positively related, while her authoritarian control and power assertive discipline are negatively related to the person’s self-esteem. Perceptions of father’s behavior on these dimensions are unrelated to the person’s self-esteem. The results regarding mother’s perceived behavior are in line with expectations. To investigate sex and generation differences in self-esteem, factorial analysis of variance was carried out with self-esteem scores as the dependent variable and sex and generation as the fixed factors. There were main effects for both generation (F2, 462 ¼ 5.34, p ¼ 0.005, partial g2 ¼ 0.023) and sex (F1, 462 ¼ 5.23, p ¼ 0.023, partial g2 ¼ 0.011), as well as a two-way interaction effect (F2, 462 ¼ 3.74, p ¼ 0.025, partial g2 ¼ 0.016). Post hoc Scheffe tests showed that the parent generation had self-esteem scores significantly higher than both the child ( p ¼ 0.019) and the grandparent ( p ¼ 0.004) generations. However, the interaction of generation with sex shows that while in both child and parent generations, males and females had very similar scores, scores of males and females in the grandparent generation were quite different, with grandmothers’ scores sharply lower than grandfathers’ scores.

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Table 8.1. Mean scores for perceived mother and father acceptance, control, discipline, and autonomy encouragement for respondents with low, middle, and high self-esteem, with F, p, and partial g2 values Self-esteem level

Mother acceptance Mother control Mother discipline Mother autonomy Father acceptance Father control Father discipline Father autonomy

Low (n ¼ 130)

Middle (n ¼ 160)

High (n ¼ 134)

F

p

Partial g2

4.84 3.56 3.53 3.81 4.72 3.62 3.56 4.11

4.98 3.54 3.49 3.91 4.78 3.52 3.46 4.36

5.14 3.23 3.13 4.24 4.66 3.46 3.49 4.26

2.85 5.26 6.82 6.39 0.55 0.93 0.38 2.11

0.059 0.006 0.001 0.002 0.578 0.394 0.686 0.123

0.013 0.024 0.031 0.029 0.003 0.004 0.002 0.010

Similarity between perceptions of parents and parents’ own perceptions Pearson product-moment correlation coefficients were calculated between child-generation respondents’ ratings of their mothers on the four factors from the Mother Q sort and parent-generation mothers’ ratings of their behavior toward their child on the corresponding items from the Child Q sort (n ¼ 107). Since fathers’ perceived behaviors were not related with self-esteem, correlations with their self-perceived behaviors were not calculated. Table 8.2 shows the correlation matrix. Affection As can be seen from the table, child perceptions of mother’s Affection were correlated positively with mothers’ selfperceptions of Affection and Autonomy support and negatively with mothers’ self-perceptions of Control. Control Children’s perceptions of their mother’s Control were correlated positively with their mothers’ perceptions on the same factor and negatively with mothers’ perceptions of Autonomy support. Discipline Children’s perceptions of mother’s Discipline did not correlate with their mothers’ self-perceptions of Discipline, but they did correlate positively with their mothers’ self-perceptions of Control and negatively with mother’s self perceived Autonomy support.

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Table 8.2. Correlations between child’s ratings of mother’s behaviors and mother’s self-ratings on affection, control, discipline, and autonomy support Mother’s perception of own behaviors toward child Child’s perception of mother

Correlation (r) Significance (p) N Affection

Affection

r p N r p N r p N r p N

Control

Discipline

Autonomy

0.197 0.042 107 0.146 0.132 107 0.092 0.348 107 0.159 0.101 107

Control

Discipline

Autonomy

0.258 0.008 106 0.283 0.003 106 0.273 0.005 106 0.346 0.0001 106

.0155 0.112 107 0.083 0.397 107 0.113 0.248 107 0.166 0.087 107

0.297 0.002 106 0.302 0.002 106 0.245 0.011 106 0.37 0.0001 106

Autonomy Children’s perceptions of mother’s encouragement of Autonomy correlated positively with their mothers’ self-perceptions on the same factor and negatively with their self-perceptions of Control. Effects of sex of parent and sex of child on the four factors Similarities and differences between parents Correlations between dimension scores for mother and father as perceived by the respondent show that Control has moderately high mother–father correlations for all three generations (coefficients ranging from 0.6 to 0.7), as do Discipline (0.2 to 0.6) and Autonomy support (0.3 to 0.7). Perceived mother–father similarity on Affection is lowest among the four factors (r ¼ 0.2 to 0.3). Despite these positive correlations, differences appear in all four of the dimensions of perceived parenting practices. Paired t-tests show that mothers are perceived as more affectionate (t ¼ 5.0, p  0.0001), while fathers are perceived as more controlling (t ¼ -2.1, p  0.04), higher on discipline (t ¼ 5.28, p  0.0001), and more encouraging of autonomy (t ¼ 2.2, p  0.03). Differences by sex of child and generation Multivariate analysis of variance with sex and generation of respondent as the fixed factors and

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Table 8.3. Mean scores for perceived mother and father affection, control, discipline, and encouragement of autonomy by generation, with F, p, and partial g2 values for the effect of generation Generation of respondent Perceived parent practices

Child

Parent

Grandparent

F

p

Partial g2

Mother affection Father affection Mother control Father control Mother discipline Father discipline Mother autonomy Father autonomy

5.41 5.28 3.00 3.05 3.03 3.09 4.60 4.97

4.93 4.53 3.40 3.53 3.46 3.67 3.96 4.20

4.78 4.55 3.84 3.86 3.58 3.58 3.59 3.82

11.91 20.09 25.31 23.23 9.92 13.09 30.37 39.85

0.0001 0.0001 0.0001 0.0001 0.0001 0.0001 0.0001 0.0001

0.051 0.083 0.102 0.094 0.043 0.055 0.120 0.152

the four parenting dimensions as the dependent variables reveals two differences according to sex of the child: daughters perceive more Affection from fathers than do sons (F1, 451 ¼ 8.8, p ¼ 0.003) as well as less Discipline (F(1, 451) ¼ 6.23, p ¼ 0.013). There is a main effect of generation on all four dimensions for both mothers and fathers. (See Table 8.1 for means and F, p, and partial g2 values.) There are no significant interactions between sex and generation. The generational differences show that the child generation perceives more Affection from both parents than their parents and grandparents did, together with less Control and Discipline by both parents and more encouragement of Autonomy by both parents. Also, these analyses indicate that perceived mother–father similarities and differences have shifted to some extent across three generations, generally in the direction of less difference between mothers and fathers, and less moderation of differences by sex of the child in the younger generations (see Table 8.3). Discussion Self-esteem The expectation that parental Affection and encouragement of Autonomy would be related to child self-esteem was supported only in the case of mothers. Interestingly, mother Affection, which was expected to have the greatest effect on self-esteem, was only marginally related; Control, Discipline, and Autonomy support all had stronger effects (effects were

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negative for Control and Discipline). Fathers’ perceived behaviors had no discernible relationship with their children’s self-esteem; if the father’s perceived behavior has any effect on the child’s self-esteem, it appears not to be through these four dimensions of parenting practices. This finding is congruent with those of Milevsky et al. (2006), who investigated the relation between parenting styles and self-esteem, among other variables, and found that mother’s authoritative style was associated with higher self-esteem in adolescents, but that father’s style was not related to self-esteem. These findings have implications for the thesis that “parenting behavior has little effect on the child’s personality” (e.g., Harris 1995, 2006). This hypothesis appears to be partly supported, in the sense that effect sizes for the mother’s behavior are quite small, indicating that other factors have much more importance than mother’s behavior, and no effect of father’s perceived parenting style could be detected. On the other hand, all of the maternal behavior dimensions are clearly significantly related to the child’s self-esteem, providing evidence against the hypothesis. At the least, these findings suggest limitations on one aspect of the theoretical position advanced by Harris, namely, that parental effects are mainly due to genetic similarity between parent and child, since genetically speaking the child is presumably equally similar to both parents but the two parents do not have equal effects. The negative relations between self-esteem and perceived mothers’ Control and Discipline, together with the negative relations between children’s perceived Affection and mothers’ self-perceived Control contrast with earlier findings that (1) children in collectivistic cultural groups may not perceive control and discipline as negative or rejecting (Rohner and Pettengill 1985) or (2) that authoritarian parenting is not related to selfesteem of children in collectivistic groups, although there is a negative relationship in individualistic groups (Rudy and Grusec 2006). The expectation that data from a Turkish sample would be parallel to findings from these studies depends on the assumption that Turkish culture is collectivistic (see, e.g., Hofstede 2001). However, several studies have shown that Turkish university students are neither strongly collectivistic nor strongly individualistic (e.g., G€ oregenli 1995; Sunar 1999; Haskuka, Sunar and Alp 2008). Since university students are typically urban and middle class in origin, the present sample doubtless resembles them in this respect. Thus, although it is possible that the non-relation between authoritarian parenting and self-esteem is not general to all collectivistic cultures, the more likely explanation is that the sample in the present study, being drawn from the urban middle class, is less collectivistic than other sectors of Turkish society and therefore shows a more individualistic pattern.

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The effects of sex and generation The low self-esteem of grandparent generation females is the most salient feature of the distribution of self-esteem across the sexes and generations. This finding can be explained on the basis of both sex-role socialization and life-cycle changes. In traditional society, a woman’s status is largely determined by her reproductive role. While the grandmothers in the current study live in an urban setting, their early socialization was probably much closer to traditional values than that of later generations. Since their daughters and daughters-in-law are now the ones with growing children, they may believe that they no longer command the same social status that they had earlier in life and consequently have lower self-esteem. The parent generation’s higher self-esteem may also be attributable to life-cycle factors. Most of this group is in early middle age, typically the time of maximum prestige, skill, and stable interpersonal relations, all of which may contribute positively to self-esteem. Overall CRPR findings The patterns of positive and negative correlations between children’s perceptions of parental behaviors and the mothers’ self-perceptions on the same behaviors indicate that the child generation, at least, tends to see control as an indicator of lack of affection, and also as restriction on their autonomy. Like the findings on self-esteem discussed above, these findings also contradict to some degree the conclusions of Rohner and Pettengill (1985) or Rudy and Grusec (2006), who suggested that children and parents in collectivistic cultures do not perceive high control as a sign of rejection or lack of love. These patterns of correlation are also relevant to the theoretical pre_ dictions made by Ka
gıt¸cıba¸sı (1996, 2005, 2007) and Imamo
glu (1998, 2003), as presented in the introduction. Like Rohner and Pettengill (1985) and Rudy and Grusec (2006), Ka
gıt¸cıba¸sı (1970) found no relation between perceived parental affection and perceived parental control. _ In contrast, Imamo
glu (2003) has found that the combination of high perceived affection and low perceived control is most strongly related to “balanced differentiation-integration” in the child. In line with the discussion of self-esteem above, the key to the contradictions may be found in the level of individualism or collectivism characterizing the samples. Ka
gıtc¸ ıba¸sı’s original study was carried out in the late 1960s, when Turkish culture was arguably more collectivistic than it is currently, _ while Imamo
glu’s studies, and the present study, were carried out from twenty to thirty years later. It is possible that social and cultural change

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over the intervening years could account for the differences in findings. Specifically, the dimensions of autonomy and interpersonal distance, which Ka
gıt¸cıba¸sı sees as conceptually independent of one another, may be functionally undifferentiated in more collectivistic settings, but become more differentiated with greater individualism. Another possibility is that the different measures used in the various studies are not fully commensurable, leading to differing interpretations. Summary and conclusions The main findings of the study can be summarized as follows: 1. Although the correlations were low, meaningful relations were found between respondent’s self-esteem and the mother’s behavior on all four parenting dimensions. Since the father’s behaviors did not predict self-esteem, it can be concluded that this relation is not an artifact of heritability but, rather, a genuine effect of the mother’s perceived behavior. 2. Sex and generation differences in the outcome variables were pervasive, with generation generally having the stronger effect. Life-cycle changes were implicated in the higher self-esteem of the parent generation and the lower self-esteem of grandmothers. 3. Over the generations, both mothers and fathers are perceived as becoming more affectionate, less controlling, less discipline-oriented, and more encouraging of autonomy. 4. A pattern of positive correlations between child’s perceived Affection and mother’s perceived Autonomy support, and negative correlations between child’s perceived Affection and mother’s perceived Control suggest that children experience autonomy support as acceptance, and (authoritarian) control as rejection or lack of affection. 5. Mothers and fathers are perceived as behaving somewhat differently from one another, with mothers rated higher on Affection and fathers higher on Control, Discipline, and Autonomy. Sons and daughters perceive their mothers similarly but their fathers differently, with daughters perceiving more Affection and less Discipline from fathers than do sons. In short, the present study illuminates some of the similarities and differences in child-rearing practices of urban middle class Turkish mothers and fathers over three generations, and the effects – and lack of effects – of these practices on their children’s self-esteem. Generational differences in both parent practices and in self-esteem are strongly apparent, and can be explained on the basis of both social change and life-cycle changes. The findings provide partial support for Ka
gıt¸cıba¸sı’s (2007) model of the urban developing-world family by showing crossgeneration trends toward more affection and autonomy support, while

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questioning the role of control. They also provide evidence for parenting effects on self-esteem that are not based on heritability of characteristics. Acknowledgments This research reported in this paper was supported by MEAWARDS Grant #MEA 205 – WANA 88.301C. Further support was provided by Bo
gazic¸ i University Research Fund Grants #9230713 and #9330701. Special thanks are due to Ay¸se Mutaf Tulun for her help in supervising € the collection of the data, and to Emre Ozgen and Yasemin Kisbu, who assisted at different points with data management and analysis. The cooperation and assistance of Robert College and Tarhan Koleji, and the cooperation of the respondent families, are also gratefully acknowledged. references M. D. S. Ainsworth, “Object relations, dependency and attachment: A theoretical review of the infant–mother relationship,” Child Development, 40 (1969), 969–1025. R. F. Baumeister, J. D. Campbell, J. I. Krueger, and K. D. Vohs, “Does high self-esteem cause better performance, interpersonal success, happiness or healthier lifestyles?,” Psychological Science in the Public Interest, 4 (2003), 1–44. R. F. Baumeister, J. D. Campbell, J. I. Krueger, and K. D. Vohs, “Exploding the self-esteem myth,” Scientific American.com, article 000CB565-F330–11BEAD0683414B7F000 (www.uvm.edu/~wgibson/PDF%20Library/SelfEsteem%20Myth.pdf), 2004. D. Baumrind, “Current patterns of parental authority,” Developmental Psychology Monograph, 4 (1971), 1–103. J. H. Block, The Child-Rearing Practices Report (CRPR): A Set of Q Items for the Description of Parental Socialization Attitudes and Values (Berkeley: University of California, Institute of Human Development, 1981). J. H. Block and B. Christiansen, “A test of Hendin’s hypotheses relating suicide in Scandinavia to child rearing orientations,” Scandinavian Journal of Psychology, 2 (1966), 267–88. J. Bowlby, Attachment (New York: Basic Books, 1969). C. Carlson, S. Uppal, and E. C. Prosser, “Ethnic differences in processes contributing to the self-esteem of early adolescent girls,” Journal of Early Adolescence, 20 (2000), 44–67. S. Coopersmith, The Antecedents of Self-esteem (San Francisco, CA: W. H. Freeman, 1967). E. L. Deci and R. M. Ryan, Intrinsic Motivation and Self-determination in Human Behavior (New York: Plenum, 1985). T. DeHart, B. W. Pelham, and H. Tennen, “What lies beneath: Parenting style and implicit self-esteem,” Journal of Experimental Social Psychology, 42 (2006), 1–17.

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B. M. D’Onofrio, L. J. Eaves, L. Murrelle, H. H. Maes, and B. Spilka, “Understanding biological and social influences on religious affiliation, attitudes and behaviors: A behavior genetic perspective,” Journal of Personality, 67 (1999), 953–84. A. Duben and C. Behar, Istanbul Households: Marriage, Family and Fertility, 1880–1940 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1991). N. Franco and M. M. Levitt, “The social ecology of middle childhood: Family support, friendship quality, and self-esteem,” Family Relations, 47 (1998), 315–21. M. G€ oregenli, “K€ ult€ ur€ um€ uz ac¸ ısından bireycilik-topluluk c¸ uluk e
gilimleri: Bir ba¸slangı c¸ c¸ alı¸sması [Individualist-collectivist tendencies from the point of €rk Psikoloji Dergisi, view of our culture: An introductory study],” T u 10 (1995), 1–14. J. R. Harris, “Where is the child’s environment? A group socialization theory of development,” Psychological Review, 102 (1995), 458–89. J.R. Harris, No Two Alike: Human Nature and Human Individuality (New York: W. W. Norton & Company, 2006). M. Haskuka, D. Sunar and I.E. Alp, War exposure, attachment style, and moral reasoning, Journal of Cross-Cultural Psychology, 39 (2008), 381401. M. L. Hoffman, “Moral internalization: Current theory and research,” in L. Berkowitz (ed.), Advances in Experimental Psychology (New York: Academic Press, 1977), pp. 85–133. G. Hofstede, Culture’s Consequences: Comparing Values, Behaviors, Institutions and Organizations across Nations (Thousand Oaks, CA: Sage, 2001). _ E. O. Imamo
glu, “An interdependence model of human development,” in C. ¸ Ka
gıt¸cıba¸sı (ed.), Growth and Progress in Cross-cultural Psychology (Lisse: Swets and Zeitlinger, 1987), pp. 138–45. _ E. O. Imamo
glu, “Individualism and collectivism in a model and scale of Balanced Differentiation and Integration,” Journal of Psychology, 132 (1998), 95–105. _ E. O. Imamo
glu, “Individuation and relatedness: Not opposing but distinct and complementary,” Genetic, Social and General Psychology Monographs, 129 (2003), 367–402. C. ¸ Ka
gıt¸cıba¸sı, “Social norms and authoritarianism: A Turkish–American comparison,” Journal of Personality and Social Psychology, 16 (1970), 444–51. C. ¸ Ka
gıt¸cıba¸sı, “Sex roles, value of children and fertility in Turkey,” in C. ¸ Ka
gıtc¸ ıba¸sı (ed.), Sex Roles, Family, and Community in Turkey (Bloomington: Indiana University Turkish Studies (1982), pp. 151–80. C. ¸ Ka
gıt¸cıba¸sı, “Family and socialization in cross-cultural perspective: A model of change,” Nebraska Symposium on Motivation, 37 (1989), 135–200. C. ¸ Ka
gıt¸cıba¸sı, “The autonomous-relational self: A new synthesis,” European Psychologist, 1 (1996), 180–86. C. ¸ Ka
gıt¸cıba¸sı, “Autonomy and relatedness in cultural context: Implications for self and family,” Journal of Cross-Cultural Psychology, 36 (2005), 403–22. C. ¸ Ka
gıt¸cıba¸sı, Family and Human Development across Cultures: A View from the Other Side, Revised second edition (Mahwah NJ: Lawrence Erlbaum, 2007).

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C. ¸ Ka
gıtc¸ ıba¸sı and B. Ataca, “Value of children and family change: A threedecade portrait from Turkey,” Applied Psychology, 54 (2005), 317–37. C. ¸ Ka
gıt¸cıba¸sı and D. Sunar, “Family and socialization in Turkey,” in J. P. Roopnarine and D. B. Carter (eds.), Parent Child Relations in Diverse Cultural Settings: Socialization for Instrumental Competency (New Jersey: Ablex Publishing Corp, 1992), pp. 75–88. C. ¸ Ka
gıt¸cıba¸sı, D. Sunar, and S. Bekman, “Long-term effects of early intervention: Turkish low-income mothers and children,” Journal of Applied Developmental Psychology, 22 (2001), 333–61. M. E. Kenny and S. R. Sirin, “Parental attachment, self-worth, and depressive symptoms among emerging adults,” Journal of Counseling and Development, 84 (2006), 61–71. A. Milevsky, M. Schlechter, S. Netter, and D. Keehn, “Maternal and paternal parenting styles in adolescents: Associations with self-esteem, depression and life-satisfaction,” Journal of Child and Family Studies, 16 (2006), 39–47. J. M. Olson, P. A. Vernon, J. A. Harris, and K. L. Lang, “The heritability of attitudes: A study of twins,” Journal of Personality and Social Psychology, 80 (2001), 845–60. R. P. Rohner, “The parental ‘acceptance–rejection syndrome’: Universal correlates of perceived rejection,” American Psychologist, 59 (2004), 830–40. R. P. Rohner and S. M. Pettengill, “Perceived parental acceptance-rejection and parental control among Korean adolescents,” Child Development, 56 (1985), 524–28. D. C. Rowe, The Limits of Family Influence: Genes, Experience, and Behavior (New York: Guilford, 1994). D. Rudy and J. E. Grusec, “Authoritarian parenting in individualist and collectivist groups: Associations with maternal emotion and cognition and children’s self-esteem,” Journal of Family Psychology, 20 (2006), 68–78. D. Sunar, “Culture and gender influences on self-concept and the bases of selfesteem: Four Turkish studies,” in W. J. Lonner, D. L. Dinnel, K. K. Forgays, and S. A. Hayes (eds.), Merging Past, Present, and Future in Cross-cultural Psychology: Selected Proceedings of the 14th International Congress of the International Association for Cross-Cultural Psychology (Lisse: Swets and Zeitlinger, 1999), pp. 387–95. D. Sunar, “Change and continuity in the Turkish middle class family,” in € E. Ozdalga and R Liljestrom (eds.), Autonomy and Dependence in Family: Turkey and Sweden in Critical Perspective (Istanbul: Swedish Research Institute, 2002), pp. 217–38. D. Sunar and G. Fi¸sek, “Contemporary Turkish families,” in U. Gielen and J. Roopnarine (eds.), Families in Global Perspective (Boston, MA: Allyn & Bacon/Pearson, 2005), pp. 169–83. Y. Xu, J. A. M. Farver, Z. Zhang, Q. Zeng, L. Yu, and B. Cai, “Mainland Chinese parenting styles and parent–child interaction,” International Journal of Behavioral Development, 29 (2005), 524–31.

III

Culture and self

9

In search of autonomous-relational self-construal Peter B. Smith

I first met Ci
¸ gdem Ka
gıt¸cıba¸sı in the late 1980s, when I became interested in cross-cultural approaches to social and organizational psychology and started to attend the congresses of the International Association for Cross-Cultural Psychology. I developed an increasing respect for the contributions that she was making, both to psychology in Turkey and to discussions of how best cross-cultural psychology might progress. A series of her former students came to work with me in the UK, and on visits to Turkey, I marveled at the way that she seemed to be a moving force behind so many positive initiatives. More recently, I came to realize that the outcome of her research into families could provide a vital missing link within existing accounts of cross-cultural social psychology such as those provided by myself and Michael Bond (Smith and Bond 1993). Consequently, I was delighted when she was able to join us in generating a completely new version of our earlier book (Smith et al. 2006). I became convinced that her distinctive conceptualization of self had captured an element less well seen or articulated by others. This chapter documents my attempts to build bridges between her insight and the concepts and measures that have been devised by other contributors to the field.

Over the past few decades, psychologists have formulated increasingly sophisticated models of the ways in which persons regulate their behavior. From early models that drew only on concepts of reward and punishment, we have moved toward a greater understanding of intentionality and self-regulation. What matters to each of us is not just the range of rewards and opportunities that lie within our reach, but also the ways in which these rewards and opportunities mesh with our conception of ourselves and the consequent circumstances under which we should like to live and fashion our lives. As in most other fields of investigation, the impetus for recent developments in theories of the self has been strongest within North America (Banaji and Prentice 1994; Bandura 1977). Indeed, over recent decades thousands of English-language publications concerning the self

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have appeared. Within this maelstrom of potential confusion, a series of separate strands can be discerned. Some theorists have written of self as a relatively stable entity whereby individuals can regulate their relations with their personal and physical environment. This tradition is most strongly associated with Bandura’s (1977) concept of self-efficacy and with Rosenberg’s (1979) concept of self-esteem. Other theorists portray individuals as holding a range of potential ways of representing themselves, which can change from moment to moment, depending on circumstance. This tradition includes the work of Markus and Nurius (1986) on possible selves and of self-categorization and social identity theorists such as Turner (1987). My focus here is upon the ways in which these two traditions can contribute to our understanding of cross-cultural variations in selfrepresentation. Two key publications have had great influence in this field. Firstly, the empirical delineation of several dimensions of cultural variation by Hofstede (1980) triggered a great deal of subsequent interest in differences between the ways that persons relate to one another in individualist and collectivistic nations. Complementing this groundbreaking empirical start, Markus and Kitayama’s (1991) closely argued analysis of the prevailing cultures of the United States and Japan popularized independence and interdependence as terms that could describe conceptions of oneself and one’s linkages with others that are most frequently found within individualistic and collectivistic cultures, respectively. Both Hofstede and Markus and Kitayama sought to describe nations as cultures comprising particular patterns of interrelatedness. They did not attempt to devise measures of the ways in which typical individuals within a given cultural context might construe themselves. Nonetheless, their conceptualizations encouraged others to take this further step. Singelis (1994) created scales tapping independent and interdependent self-construal. Respondents scoring high on independent self-construal show a greater tendency to endorse items like, “I enjoy being unique and different from others,” and “I act the same way no matter who I am with.” Respondents scoring high on interdependence show a greater tendency to endorse items like, “My relationships with those in my group are more important than my personal accomplishments,” and “I respect decisions made by my group.” The Singelis scales have proved popular with researchers and have been employed widely by those seeking to characterize the cultural orientation of those whom they are studying. When averaged across individuals, mean interdependence has typically been found higher within samples from collectivist nations. Furthermore, at the individual level, interdependent selfconstrual predicts indirectness of communication, non-verbal aspects of

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communication, lesser expression of emotions, different types of politeness strategies, concern with others’ face in addition to one’s own, greater embarrassability, greater receptiveness to group-focused feedback, less direct styles of negotiation, and greater response to collectively-focused advertisements (Smith et al. 2006). Despite these achievements, there are problems with the Singelis measure, and with related scales, such as the one devised by Gudykunst et al. (1996). Reliability of the scales for both independent and interdependent self-construal rarely reaches the required level of 0.70, and is found to vary greatly across twenty-seven nations (Georgas et al. 2006: 139). Several groups of authors have shown that factor analyses of the items comprising the Singelis and Gudykunst self-construal scales do not yield the simple two-factor solution that would support the way that they are conceptualized (Hardin et al. 2004; Levine et al. 2003b). These researchers found up to four separable aspects of independence and two aspects of interdependence. However, while the items defining these aspects proved replicable within the US (Hardin 2006), they were not across Korea, Hawaii, and mainland US (Levine et al. 2003a, 2003b). Scores derived from the Singelis and Gudykunst scales also do not always show the predicted positive correlations with other measures to which they are conceptually related (Bresnahan et al. 2005). Problems to be overcome There is thus a definite need to clarify why these difficulties have arisen and how they may be overcome. Three possibilities will be discussed. First, these scales may have limited validity because they are poorly constructed in psychometric terms. In particular, all their items are positively worded, so that cultural differences in response styles may lead to the finding of spurious positive correlations with other indices. Second, the items in these scales may include elements of a broader range of ways in which persons construe themselves. Additional items built upon a fuller theoretical analysis may be required. Third, what we require may not just be more items, but a clearer model of the way in which different aspects of self-construal interact with one another. This last possibility is the one addressed in Ka
gıtc¸ ıba¸sı’s (1996, 2005) autonomous-relational model, but it is important first to examine the other possibilities. The measurement problem The encounter between researcher and participants in a typical crosscultural research study usually involves some degree of face-to-face

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contact, but predominantly comprises completion of some kind of pencil and paper survey. Responding to surveys is a more familiar process in some parts of the world than others, but in all locations the respondent faces the difficulty of translating subjective experiences into a series of objectively recorded ratings. It is all too easy for the researcher to forget the ambiguity and complexity that this process entails. Despite its difference from the face-to-face interaction involved for instance in the collection of interview data, the process may also be best thought of in terms of culturally-mediated communication processes. Through completing the scales presented, the respondent will attempt to convey to the researcher the impression that he or she intends. This intended impression will be a function both of the respondent’s individual attributes, but also of the cultural context within which they are located. In particular, we may expect that persons socialized within more individualist cultures may seek to present themselves as distinctive and therefore interesting, whereas we may expect persons within more collectivist cultures to present themselves as agreeing with the views of the researcher and therefore in harmony with them. Among the clues presented to respondents as to the opinions of the researcher are the items that comprise the survey. If these are all phrased in a positive manner, we expect greater acquiescence from respondents in more collectivist nations and greater use of extremes on rating scales from respondents in more individualist nations. Smith (2004) tested the prediction that nation-level measures of acquiescent bias derived from different cross-cultural surveys would converge with one another. The hypothesis was strongly supported. For instance, the bias measures derived from the work of Hofstede (2001) and Schwartz (2004) correlated 0.66. In a further study, Smith and Fischer (2008) found that acquiescence was predicted both by individuallevel interdependence and by nation-level collectivism. Conversely, extreme response bias was predicted by individual-level independence and by nation-level individualism. Thus, there are cultures of acquiescence and cultures of extremity. Both Hofstede and Schwartz corrected their measures for response bias, so this conclusion does not imperil their findings. However, existing self-construal measures are not typically corrected for response bias. This omission is important, because one argument against the validity of existing self-construal scales has been that meta-analyses comparing nation-level scores for mean independence and mean interdependence do not give results that accord with prior classifications of cultural differences (Levine et al. 2003a, 2003b; Oyserman et al. 2002). The implication for the present discussion is that new measures

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of self-construal must control for response biases if they are to be valid for use cross-culturally. The conceptualization problem There is little doubt that the popularity of the Singelis measures has stemmed from the predominance of interest in individualism-collectivism among the cross-cultural researchers of the past two decades. However, Hofstede’s understanding of this dimension has been frequently misrepresented or redefined, and there is also potential in each of the other dimensions that he identified for discerning distinctive ways in which members of a given culture might construe themselves. Members of cultures high or low on power distance may vary in the extent to which they see themselves as powerful or powerless; members of cultures high or low on uncertainty avoidance may vary in the extent to which they see themselves as confident or anxious; members of cultures high or low on masculinity-femininity may differ in how much they see themselves as concerned about relations with others. This last possibility is particularly interesting, because many authors have assumed that concern with relations with others is an attribute of those who endorse interdependence. Hofstede distinguishes a contrast between “I” and “We” (individualism-collectivism) from a contrast between ego-enhancement versus relationship-enhancement (masculinityfemininity, using his terms). Thus, even within Hofstede’s pioneering framework, there rests the possibility of two orthogonal dimensions of self-construal. Indeed, there are additional possibilities that can be derived from the power distance concept, such as the distinction between vertical and horizontal self-construals, as formulated by Singelis et al. (1995). However, individual-level research with their instrument has often shown horizontal self-construal to be associated with independence and vertical self-construal with interdependence (e.g., Kurman 2003), just as Hofstede found linkages between collectivism and power distance at the nation level. Relatedness therefore offers a better prospect of defining a second dimension of self-construal that might be able to assist in the clearer definition of independence and interdependence. Within the field of social psychology, social identity theorists increasingly make a distinction between three social identities rather than two (Brewer and Gardner 1996; Sedikides and Brewer 2001). One’s individual self is defined by one’s personal attributes; one’s relational self is defined by one’s relations with important others; one’s collective self is defined by one’s membership of specific groups or categories. In a way that parallels

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Schwartz’s (1994) theory of the evolutionary basis of his three major dimensions of cultural variation, these three forms of self-construal may each have adaptive value (Brewer and Caporael 2006). Social identity theorists see identities as mutable, so that in the course of a day one may frequently act in ways that are derived from each of these types of self-construal. Nonetheless, there may be features of particular cultural contexts that encourage the elicitation of one type of self-construal rather than another. An interesting example is provided by Kashima and Kashima’s (1998) finding that within more collectivist nations the languages spoken tend to permit the omission of the pronoun “I,” whereas those spoken in individualist nations do not. There are likely to be other social circumstances that differentially elicit particular self-construals. For present purposes, the distinction between relational self and collective self can be particularly helpful. We might expect that relational self-construal would be elicited more frequently in a nation classified by Hofstede as feminine, such as the Netherlands, than in a nation classified as masculine, such as the US. Van Yperen and Buunk (1991) found that couples in the US were most satisfied when they perceived equity in their relationship, whereas the Dutch felt best when they saw their partner as putting most into the relationship. A measure of “communal” orientation predicted this effect. While the social identity theorists’ interest in relatedness provides some indications for improved measures of self-construal, the work of self-efficacy theorists is also relevant. Although Bandura’s (1977) early work had an entirely individualistic focus, he has more recently extended the range of his theorizing by addressing cultural issues. He now distinguishes personal agency, proxy agency (influencing others to act on my behalf), and collective agency (people acting together) (Bandura 2002). Each of these forms of agency could be enacted in any type of setting, but we could again expect that some settings would more readily elicit some types of agency than would others. It is striking that even though he has worked within a quite separate research tradition, Bandura finds value in proposing a division between three modes of agency, and that these modes of agency show some resemblance to the identities that are increasingly favored by social identity theorists. This convergence is encouraging, but should not blind us to the differences between these conceptualizations. Agency is a type of belief as to what one can do. Identity is a self-description, with no particular implications as to action. As Brewer and Chen (2007) make clear, all possible combinations of identity and agency can be possible. For instance, one could act as a distinctive individual for the benefit of one’s group. Equally, a group could act in support of an individual’s distinctiveness.

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AGENCY Autonomy

Autonomous-separate self

Autonomous-related self

INTERPERSONAL DISTANCE Separation

Heteronomous-separate self

Relatedness

Heteronomous-related self

Heteronomy

Figure 9.1 The Ka
gıtc¸ ıba¸sı self-construal model. Adapted from Ka
gıt¸cıba¸sı (2005).

The Ka
g ıt¸cıba¸sı model The fullest exposition of Ka
gıt¸cıba¸sı’s model of self-construal is in her 2005 paper. How does it compare with the prescriptions proposed in the preceding sections? The model is reproduced as Figure 9.1. Consistent with the critique of the simple bipolar opposition of independence and interdependence discussed above, the model portrays two dimensions as orthogonal to one another. The vertical “agency” pole has some resemblance to Bandura’s (2002) focus on types of agency, but is labeled in terms of autonomy versus heteronomy and discussed in terms of freedom versus constraint. It therefore refers to actions rather than beliefs. The horizontal “distance” pole opposes separateness to relatedness and is discussed in terms of closeness with others and in particular connectedness with one’s family. Separateness can be safely assumed to covary with individual self-construal. Relatedness with one’s family could entail construing oneself either relationally or collectively, but thinking of one’s family as a category is likely to be less frequent than thinking of it as a series of persons. In considering the merits of the Ka
gıt¸cıba¸sı model, we need to consider its origins and place them against some further criticisms of the earlier self-construal measures that have not yet been expressed. The Ka
gıt¸cıba¸sı model arose from her extensive and important analyses of families and the value that they give to children (Ka
gıt¸cıba¸sı 2006). It

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is presented as a family model and the evidence presented to support it in her 2005 paper is derived predominantly from studies of families by other researchers. In contrast, the Singelis scales were formulated as situation-free statements of the respondent’s generalized self-construal. As such, they are vulnerable to the criticism that respondents will think about themselves in quite different ways in different settings, particularly within collectivist cultures (Smith and Bond 1993). Consequently, it would be difficult for a respondent to complete the scales validly without specifying a context. More recently, attempts have been made to rectify this deficiency. For instance, Harb and Smith (2008) asked students in the UK, Lebanon, Jordan, and Syria to complete self-construal items in relation to each of six different group contexts, finding that their self-construals did vary between contexts. Fischer (unpublished paper) surveyed students in eleven nations, asking them which group was the most important to them. In all nations he found that family was the most frequently endorsed group. He therefore formulated his subsequent survey items using family as a referent. Fischer’s finding lends support to the current formulation of the Ka
gıt¸cıba¸sı model. If family is the most salient reference group across a broad sample of nations (at least among students), the range of possible applications of the Ka
gıtc¸ ıba¸sı model is extended. However, not all of life is lived within the family, so there remain arguments that a more comprehensive model of self-construal should retain the distinction between relational and collective self-construal. Indeed, Ka
gıtc¸ ıba¸sı has herself recently devised measures that refer to close others, as well as to family members.

Toward a new measure Some attempts to construct measures that include a distinction between collectivism and relatedness have already been reported. Kashima et al. (1995) identified a series of relatedness items that did not correlate with collectivism, in samples drawn from Australia, Japan, Korea, and the US. Kashima and Hardie (2000) subsequently created “self-aspects” scales tapping individualism, relatedness, and collectivism among Australian students. However, the items that they chose to use were diverse, including values, attitudes, and beliefs. They also found strong correlations between endorsements of all three scales. Similarly, Cross et al. (2000) in the US formulated a “relational-interdependent” scale, which was shown to correlate positively with the Singelis measure of interdependence. Gheorghiu (unpublished) administered both the Kashima

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and Hardie and the Cross et al. scales to students in Romania. Scores on all scales correlated positively and significantly with one another. The failure to obtain scale scores that are distinct from one another reproduces one of the weaknesses of the earlier scales, such as that of Singelis (1994). It is most likely attributable to the use of items that are almost all positively worded. From the perspective of the Ka
gıtc¸ ıba¸sı model, a further weakness of all these scales is that they lack items that directly address the agency dimension, although factors labeled as agency or assertiveness have been identified in some factor analyses (Hardin et al. 2004; Kashima et al. 1995). If scales such as those discussed above were to be amended to include reversed items, one kind of measure representing the Ka
gıt¸cıba¸sı model might be constructed by the addition of items tapping agency. However, this may not be the optimal way to approach a valid measure. Are the two dimensions in the model simply orthogonal, or do they interact with one another in some way? Researchers into efficacy have identified significant effects of self-efficacy even within collectivistic cultures (Bandura 2002). However, group efficacy shows stronger effects when the two measures are compared (Earley 1994). Measures of selfand group-efficacy cannot be considered as valid ways of measuring the Ka
gıt¸cıba¸sı agency dimension, because their specification of “self ” or “group” already refers implicitly to an interaction with the distance dimension. Just as it has proved difficult to identify items tapping independence and interdependence without specifying a context, so it would be problematic to identify items tapping agency that are context-free. A first attempt to overcome these problems was tested by Idate (MSc dissertation, University of Sussex, 2006), in collaboration with me. A fifty-one-item survey was constructed, comprising four hypothesized self-construal scales. Fifteen items referred to independent self-construal, fifteen referred to relational self-construal, and fifteen referred to collective self-construal. The relational items referred to “close friends,” while the collective items referred to “a group that I belong to.” Before completing these items, respondents were asked to jot down some initials to remind them of which close friends they had in mind and which groups were important to them. The remaining six items were drafted so as to represent the types of self-representation that might be expected from a respondent high on both agency and closeness, namely, an autonomous-relational self-construal. The survey contained eight items that had been phrased in the reverse manner. The items were translated into Romanian and Japanese, using the normal back-translation procedure to check on errors. The survey was then administered to 162 students in Romania, 93 students in Japan, and 108 students in the UK.

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Table 9.1. Factor loadings for six items concerning autonomous-relational self-construal Items

Japan

1. I am able to disagree with my close friends without 0.51 losing their friendship 2. I never disagree with my close friends (R) 0.83 3. It is difficult for me to think of myself as an independent 0.70 person when I am in a close friendship (R) 4. Having differences of opinion with my close friends 0.00 enriches our friendship 5. My close friendships strengthen my view of myself 0.09 as an independent person 6. When I become close to someone, I feel that 0.54 I’m losing a part of myself (R) Variance explained 29.0 Eigenvalues 1.74

Romania

UK

0.69

0.70

0.78 0.67

0.65 0.60

0.21

0.57

0.20

0.08

0.64

0.59

33.9 2.04

32.4 1.95

Factor analyses indicated that the attempt to obtain separate representations of relational and interdependent self-construals had not been successful. It became apparent that many respondents had identified family members as close friends as well as considering family to be one of their most important groups. In subsequent administrations of the survey, respondents will be asked to identify close friends who are not members of their family. For present purposes, the main interest of this investigation concerns the six items that were intended to tap aspects of autonomous-relational self-construal. Each item concerns the assertion of difference within the context of relatedness. Three of the items had reversed wording. Table 9.1 shows the text of the items, as well as their single-factor loadings within a principal component analysis, conducted separately for each sample. Four items loaded consistently on the factor. Item 4 also loaded on the factor among UK respondents, but loaded more weakly among the presumably more collectivist respondents in Romania, and not at all in Japan. The next step in developing this measure will require rephrasing of items 4 and 5. Using the four items that factor together yields Cronbach alpha values of 0.54 (Japan), 0.64 (Romania), and 0.59 (the UK). Additional items will be required to achieve greater reliability. The factor analysis reported above gives some preliminary indication that a measure can be created using items of the type that were employed. However, how do we know that these items reflect the type of autonomous-relational self-construal that is specified in the Ka
gıtc¸ ıba¸sı model? Ka
gıtc¸ ıba¸sı (2005) indicates that one validity test would involve

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comparing mean scores for urban versus rural respondents, but this is not possible with the present data. A second expectation is that the measure should correlate positively with both independence and relatedness. In order to test whether this effect is found, it is first necessary to discount acquiescent response bias, since such a bias would cause all measures to correlate positively. A bias measure was computed by averaging the responses to all forty-one positively worded self-construal items, but excluding the autonomous-relational items. After partialing out bias, the four-item autonomous-relational construal measure was found to correlate significantly with independent self-construal at 0.27 (Japan), 0.25 (Romania), and 0.33 (the UK), but not with relational self-construal. These moderately positive correlations with independent self-construal are promising, but evidence for validity will require similar correlations with relational self-construal. Tests for this must await the collection of improved data for relational self-construal since, as noted above, the present respondents failed to distinguish relational self-construal from collective self-construal. Concluding remarks Plainly, the results presented here are very preliminary, but they suggest ways in which Ka
gıt¸cıba¸sı’s important conceptualization can be further developed by benefiting from analyses of the weaknesses characterizing earlier measures. The items that she has devised herself for the measurement of autonomous-relational self-construal may well help to clarify the issues discussed here, since she now has parallel sets of scales with one set that refers to family and a second that is not contextualized. What I have sought to place on record here is an illustration of the way that a particular aspect of her work has stimulated me, as other aspects have done for many others. Progress in this field is of critical importance, because self-construal provides a key linkage between the individualistic assumptions upon which much of psychology has been based and the more holistic conceptualizations of society, class, and culture that have prevailed within sociology and anthropology. Cross-cultural psychologists have struggled to build bridges between these traditions, and Ka
gıt¸cıba¸sı has provided a distinguished example of how to set about bridge-building in a fruitful manner. She has led me to think in new ways and to attempt linkages between these different research traditions. Her model has great potential in capturing a key aspect of current social change and this potential will be most comprehensively utilized when measurement validity has been achieved.

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gıtc¸ ıba¸sı, and Y. H. Poortinga, Families across Cultures: A 30-nation Psychological Study (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2006). W. B. Gudykunst, Y. Matsumoto, S. Ting-Toomey, T. Nishida, K., Kim, and S. Heyman, “The influence of cultural individualism-collectivism, selfconstruals and individual values on communication styles across cultures,” Human Communication Research, 22 (1996), 510–43. C. Harb and P. B. Smith, “Self-construals across cultures: Beyond independence-interdependence,” Journal of Cross-Cultural Psychology, 39 (2008), 178–97. E. Hardin, “Convergent evidence for the multidimensionality of self-construal,” Journal of Cross-Cultural Psychology, 37 (2006), 516–21. E. Hardin, F. T. Leong, and A. A. Bhagwat, “Factor structure of the selfconstrual revisited,” Journal of Cross-Cultural Psychology, 35 (2004), 327–45. G. Hofstede, Culture’s Consequences: International Differences in Work-related Values (Beverly Hills, CA: Sage, 1980). G. Hofstede, Culture’s Consequences: Comparing Values, Behaviors, Institutions and Organizations across Nations (Thousand Oaks, CA: Sage, 2001). C. ¸ Ka
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gıt¸cıba¸sı, Family and Human Development across Cultures: A View from the Other Side, Second edition (Hillsdale, NJ: Lawrence Erlbaum, 2006). E. S. Kashima and E. A. Hardie, “The development and validation of the relational, individual and collective self-aspects,” Asian Journal of Social Psychology, 3 (2000), 19–48. Y. Kashima and E. Kashima, “Culture and language: The case of cultural dimensions and personal pronoun use,” Journal of Cross-Cultural Psychology, 29 (1998), 461–86. Y. Kashima, S. Yamaguchi, U. Kim, S. C. Choi, M. J. Gelfand, and M. Yuki, “Culture, gender and the self: A perspective from individualism-collectivism research,” Journal of Personality and Social Psychology, 69 (1995), 925–37. J. Kurman, “Why is self-enhancement low in certain collectivist cultures? An investigation of two competing explanations,” Journal of Cross-Cultural Psychology, 34 (2003), 496–510. T. R. Levine, M. J. Bresnahan, H. S. Park, M. K. Lapinski, T. S. Lee, and D. Lee, “The (in)validity of self-construal scales revisited,” Human Communication Research, 29 (2003a), 291–308. T. R. Levine, M. J. Bresnahan, H. S. Park, M. K. Lapinski, G. Wittenbaum, S. M. Shearman et al., “Self-report measures of self-construals lack validity,” Human Communication Research, 29 (2003b), 210–52. H. R. Markus and S. Kitayama, “Culture and the self: Implications for cognition, emotion, and motivation,” Psychological Review, 98 (1991), 224–53. H. R. Markus and P. Nurius, “Possible selves,” American Psychologist, 41 (1986), 954–69. D. Oyserman, H. M. Coon, and M. Kemmelmeier, “Rethinking individualism and collectivism: Evaluation of theoretical assumptions and meta-analyses,” Psychological Bulletin, 128 (2002), 3–72. S. H. Schwartz, “Beyond individualism and collectivism: New cultural dimensions of values,” in U. Kim, H. C. Triandis, C. ¸ Ka
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10

Culture and developmental pathways of relationship formation1 Heidi Keller and Robin Harwood I met u´idem at various IACCP conferences over the last decades in various functions. The distant perspective of an intellectually much appreciated colleague turned over the years into a close and wonderful friendship. u´idems enthusiasm and devotion for her work and her message is inspiring for students and colleagues. Her interpersonal warmth and her sense of humour make all the encounters with her special. I feel privileged to have had many great moments with her and I truly want many more to come. Heidi Keller

m : No, I like it but I’m just thinking the child should not grow up only in the world of herself and the mother. i : Okay. m : You need to bring other people into her life because you cannot just grow up with your child. There are moments, for instance if she [the mother] dies now, the child will find it difficult getting closer to another person. Though the mother and the child need to have their own relationship, when you are making a relationship with the child [you must] allow her to interact with other people. So that, if you are not there, she can easily get closer to other people. Like in this situation when you are always there with the child, immediately you are not there she looks for that familiar face and when she does not find the face, no matter what any other person does it cannot really satisfy her. (Excerpt from an interview with a Cameroonian Nso mother about the best care for an infant)

m : And sometimes they do need time away – uhm – , ’cause they get overstimulated if there are just too many people around. Or they, you know, sometimes they need just a little quiet time. i : Mhm. m : Helps them develop a sense of – uhm – independence. i : Oh, mhm, so what’s important about independence?

1

This chapter profits from input from Dr. Vivian Carlson at a later stage of discussion.

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m : Uhm, that they are able to make decisions for themselves. i : Mhm. m : And they don’t require having someone there constantly. ’Cause sometime they get so clingy and whiney, and that’s just ’cause they don’t know how to be alone. And it’s important for kids, for humans to – have a relationship with themselves so that they can be alone. i : Mhm. When they are older? m : Uhm – even when they are babies, they need to be able to just not have constant – constantly somebody there. i : Mhm. m : Helps them develop some self-identity. (Excerpt from an interview with a European American mother, Los Angeles)

The formation of primary relationships: a universal developmental task The formation of primary relationships can be considered the first integrative developmental task that human infants must master. Due to their extreme helplessness (altriciality), infants are vitally dependent upon a caregiving environment that provides nutrition, hygiene, protection, and social interaction. Thus, relationship formation has evolved as an adaptive response to challenges with respect to growth and development (Hinde 1982), protection from predators (Bowlby 1969), and the emergence of a sense of self (Keller 2007). In particular, infants are born with behavioral predispositions that elicit and foster caregiving behaviors from their social environments, as well as the capacity for learning. This learning is based on open genetic programs that regulate content specificity and the timing of learning in epigenetic rules (Wilson 1975), letting infants learn specific information during specific time windows more easily than at other times (Draper and Harpending 1988). An infant’s early social experiences shape the genetically programmed maturation of the nervous system, and thus the fine-tuning of the brain. Biological preparedness for relationship formation Infants are equipped with an array of characteristics and competencies that facilitate their active interaction with the social environment from birth onward. With the particular physical appearance of babyness (Kindchenschema; Lorenz 1943), they attract attention and release positive emotions. With the retention of juvenile characteristics, they stimulate protection (neotony; Mayr 1982). Their “physiological preterm birth” (Prechtl 1984) allows them to invest considerable resources into growth

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and development. In addition, they show particular preparedness for social interaction. They prefer the human face over other perceptual displays (Fantz 1963) and behave differently toward people as compared with objects (Brazelton et al. 1974). They process meaningful language units from their linguistic environment, are sensitive to stimulation, and experience relief when comforted. They participate actively in social interactions and construct their social matrix on this basis (Keller 2003). However, the design is not perfect at birth. For example, newborns can see, but vision is still imperfect in as much as convergence and acuity are not yet fully developed, vision and movement are not yet coordinated, and the memory span lasts only about one second. Therefore, infants need a special co-designed caregiving environment. For this reason also, caregivers are endowed with behavioral dispositions to care for and to interact with babies. Humans from about the age of two to three years display parenting skills which enable them to perceive and process communicative cues from babies and to respond to them in appropriate ways. These behavioral regulations are to a large extent intuitive and non-intentional (Papousek and Papousek 1991). Thus, caregivers react within a very short timespan (less than a second) to infants’ facial signals (Keller et al. 1999), they mirror and modulate infants’ signals, and they use a particular language register when talking to infants. In particular, in order to accommodate the infant’s information processing capacities, caregivers use a language register consisting of a simple structure, many repetitions, and a high pitch. Moreover, caregivers tend to adjust the distance between infants and their own faces to about 25 to 30 cm, where infants are able to focus clearly despite their limited visual acuity. From an evolutionary perspective, parenting is thus part of an individual’s reproductive strategy which is allocated differentially into each individual offspring, depending on equally intuitive calculations of fertility and mortality rates, gender, age, and birth position (Keller 2000, 2007). At the same time, parenting constitutes a culturally shared set of meanings and activities that guide and motivate biologically-based behaviors regarding socialization. Both components of cultural processes – shared meanings and shared activities – are cumulative since they occur between as well as within generations; meanings and activities are also transformed across individual lifespans and between generations (Greenfield et al. 2003). Cultural processes are intrinsically intertwined with evolved developmental tasks, so that development constitutes the interface between biology and culture (Keller 2007). Thus, cultural learning is stimulated by and adapted to a particular ecocultural niche (Weisner et al. 1996).

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Researchers have provided us with different theoretical models for conceptualizing the relation between culture and child development. Super and Harkness (1996) envisioned the developmental niche as a theoretical framework integrating multiple views on children’s development in cultural context. They draw on the assumption that children are endowed with inborn dispositions which they use to participate in culturally organized environments. The subsystems of this environment include the: (a) physical and social settings in which the child lives, (b) culturally regulated customs of childcare and child-rearing, and (c) psychology of the caretakers, which includes culturally influenced parental goals and beliefs. Robert LeVine (1974) proposed that different parenting strategies across cultures are related to different developmental goals. He defined a hierarchy, with physical health and survival as the basic and primary goal, economic independence as the secondary goal, and the development of culturally desirable personality characteristics as the third goal. We refer to cultural environments as ecosocial contexts that specify particular resource situations. These ecocultural situations differ with respect to the adaptational value of different child-rearing goals, and thus with respect to an understanding of desirable endpoints of development. It has been demonstrated that any society hosts multiple cultural communities with different parental ideas and practices, including ethnic background and socio-economic status (e.g. Harwood et al. 2002). Larger socio-cultural orientations are appropriated individually by adopting, transforming, and creating cultural processes that constitute intra-individual variability. Nonetheless, parenting beliefs and practices generally have high personal relevance and are relatively resistant to change. In the following paragraphs, we briefly introduce two broad socio-cultural orientations that have been described in the literature. Developmental pathways towards independence and inter-dependence All human beings must negotiate and resolve fundamental issues regarding the relation between self and other: when there is a conflict between the goals and desires of the individual versus the goals and desires of the larger group. In recent years, researchers have proposed two idealized developmental pathways for understanding two major types of solutions to issues arising between the relation of self and other, one emphasizing individuation and independence, the other emphasizing community and interdependence (Greenfield et al. 2003; Ka
gıtc¸ ıba¸sı 1996, 2005; Keller 2007). According to this perspective, the idealized

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independent pathway promotes individuality, self-expression, and personal sufficiency, facilitating the development of an independently oriented self that is essentially well delineated and separate from others; except in matters involving serious harm to others or their property, conflicts between self and others are typically resolved in favor of the rights of the individual. The idealized interdependent pathway, on the other hand, emphasizes social hierarchy, interpersonal harmony, and humility, giving rise to an interdependently oriented self that is fluidly defined and inextricably connected within a relational framework, mainly the family (Greenfield et al. 2003; Ka
gıt¸cıba¸sı 2005; Keller et al. 2004a). According to this perspective, when conflicts arise between the goals of the individual and the goals of the group, the interests of the group are more likely to be given priority. We conceive of independence and interdependence as two dimensions that are both based on the psychology of human beings and thus part of a universal human nature (Ka
gıtc¸ ıba¸sı 2005; Keller 2003; Kitayama 2000). At the individual level, all human beings experience individual needs, desires, and agency, as well as relatedness, interdependence, and obligation to others. At the level of cultural meaning, these dimensions are patterned in different, culturally appropriate ways that are consistent with a given social environment’s relative prioritizing of the self versus the group in cases where the two are in conflict. A culture’s understandings of adult social competence, including whatever developmental endpoints are defined as desirable (Bruner 1986), are delineated in different ways in different cultural environments. We argue that participation in early socio-cultural contexts, of which parenting is a major feature, provides the infant with the psychological foundation for the acquisition of culturally-specific solutions, or developmental pathways, for resolving ongoing issues regarding the relation between self and other. We further argue that developmental pathways represent coherent patterns of cultural solutions for universal developmental tasks. Developmental pathways and the formation of early relationships Attachment theory constitutes the most prominent approach in mainstream developmental psychology conceptualizing relationship formation (Ainsworth et al. 1978; Bowlby 1969). John Bowlby’s studies of the mental health problems of British children who had been institutionalized following separations from their families during World War II (Bowlby 1969, 1980), led him to synthesize ethological and psychoanalytic perspectives with his clinical experiences and a systems theory

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view. As a result, he formulated a theory that emphasizes phylogenetic preparedness for attachment to a caregiving person, which is considered equal in importance to the satisfaction of primary physiological needs. He proposed a sequence of four phases (pre-attachment, attachment in the making, clear-cut attachment, and goal-corrected partnership) that the infant undergoes in order to develop a primary attachment relationship by the end of the first year of life. Mary Ainsworth (1969; Ainsworth et al. 1978) extended Bowlby’s attachment theory with at least three conceptual contributions. She stressed the interrelatedness between attachment and exploration and postulated the secure base phenomenon, which defines the attachment figure as a safe haven for infants’ exploration of the outside world. Secure attachment is regarded as the primary strategy for adapting to a social environment that is basically supportive of the infant (van Ijzendoorn and Sagi 1999). In recent theorizing, insecure patterns are also considered to be adaptive but secondary strategies provoked by less supportive contexts (e.g., Belsky 1999). Although the first developmental study of attachment was carried out among the Ganda in Uganda by Mary Ainsworth (1967), attachment theory and research have tended to adopt a universalist model (LeVine and Norman 2001; Rothbaum et al. 2000). In particular, it retains John Bowlby’s (1988) vision of a descriptive as well as prescriptive “developmental psychiatry,” and as such, as commonly conceptualized it is deeply rooted in a western individualistic model of what constitutes optimal development. Security of attachment is thus not simply a behavioral category; it is also a moral ideal in as much as it provides a pathway to the development of culturally valued qualities, such as selfconfidence, curiosity, and psychological independence (Harwood et al. 1995; LeVine and Norman 2001). In the same vein, maternal sensitivity is not simply a causal influence in the development of attachment; it is a judgment on maternal adequacy, a way of distinguishing good from bad mothers (LeVine and Norman 2001). Attachment theory follows the child centeredness of the developmental sciences in general, and thus does not take the contextual embeddedness of parenting into account (Geary 2000; Keller 2007). Attachment theory and research follow a “partnership model of infancy” associated with autonomous conceptions of what constitutes social and emotional competence. The partnership model prioritizes (quasi) interactional equality already in infant–caregiver interactions by assigning the infant an equal role for the flow of interactional exchanges as expressed in turn-taking and gazing patterns, following a (quasi) dialogical structure (Keller 2003). Infants are attributed an agency that expresses preferences, needs, and desires from early on (Keller et al.

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2004a). A mentalistic language referring to infants’ cognitions and emotions is oriented toward conceptions of competence that emphasize individual abilities and cognitive skills, self-confidence and self-expression, exploration, discovery, and personal achievement (Keller 2000). As Ci
¸ gdem Ka
gıtc¸ ıba¸sı (2005) has convincingly elaborated, the conception of independence or autonomy has received disproportionately greater attention in psychology, often at the expense of relatedness. Based on European philosophical traditions, the psychoanalytic movement in particular helped to create a psychology that defined independence from others as a requisite of healthy human development. This emphasis on individual autonomy systematically devalues parenting strategies designed to promote interdependence among strongly interconnected family and social networks. Conceptions of what constitutes a “good mother” are also influenced by these cultural models. Mary Ainsworth (1969) describes the sensitive mother as one who acknowledges that her baby has his or her own will; she also respects her baby’s anger and evaluates the baby’s needs as a separate autonomous person. Promptness of responding to the baby’s signals is important because the baby cannot perceive a delayed response as contingent upon his or her communication. It is assumed that it is good for a baby to gain some feeling of efficacy, and eventually to gain a sense of competence in controlling the social environment. Cultural influences in the conceptualization of maternal sensitivity are even more pronounced with regard to the evaluation of maternal cooperation versus interference with the baby’s ongoing behavior (Ainsworth et al. 1978). Interference is conceived of as instructing, directing, and controlling, rather than following, the baby’s lead. The highly interfering or intrusive mother is regarded as one who has no respect for her baby as a separate, active, and autonomous person, whose wishes and activities have a validity of their own. Ainsworth (1969) considered one of the dynamics behind interference to be an emphasis on training. From this perspective, the mother feels that she can shape the baby to fit her own concept of good behavior, and she imposes her agenda on him or her without regard to the baby’s own wishes. In line with this view are Ruth Chao’s (1994) results, indicating that European American middle class mothers related the word “training” to the military and to unwanted regimentation (cf. also Rothbaum et al. 2000). However, recent findings by Carlson and Harwood (2003) highlight the extent to which the identification of maternal control with insensitivity is culturally influenced. In particular, this study examined the relations among maternal sensitivity, emotional expressiveness, and control strategies during the first year of life, and attachment outcomes at

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twelve months among sixty middle class Puerto Rican and Anglo mother– infant pairs. Results indicated that Puerto Rican mothers, compared to Anglos, used significantly more physical control in their interactions with their infants throughout the first year of life. Moreover, the highest ratings of physical control among the Puerto Rican mothers were associated with secure attachment outcomes at one year. In contrast, among the Anglo mothers, physical control was associated with insecure attachment classification. Previous research by Harwood and her colleagues (Harwood et al. 1999; Miller and Harwood 2002) demonstrates a coherent relationship between child-rearing beliefs and behaviors in everyday settings for these middle class Anglo and Puerto Rican mothers. Specifically, teaching infants to be attentive, calm, and well-behaved requires considerably more physical prompting and control than teaching infants to be assertive and self-confident. Physical control and training constitute the ideal of good parenting in Cameroonian Nso socialization strategies. Thus, it appears that the use of maternal physical control may be regulated by larger socialization goals in a meaningful and predictable manner within particular cultural environments. These results provide evidence that cultural values as expressed in socialization goals and parenting behaviors are important components of maternal sensitivity. Lovingly shaping infant responses to conform to models of ideal behavior based on the surrounding cultural context may be a more universal conceptualization of maternal sensitivity than the traditional emphasis on prompt and contingent responsiveness to the infant’s signals. The foundation of the independent self One important socialization strategy that has been related to the development of secure attachment refers to what has been called mind mindedness (e.g. Meins et al. 2002). These concepts refer to the mother’s ability to take her baby’s inner world into account and to convey the impression to the baby of being an intentional being. These attitudes are expressed particularly through the use of mentalistic language, for example to focus on needs, wants, ideas, and interests. In keeping with the cultural emphasis on individuality and autonomy, US middle class parents often focus on the child’s personal attributes, preferences, and judgments, making the child the central character in narrations. Elinor Ochs (1982) describes one of the most distinctive characteristics of communicative exchange between middle class European American caregivers and their infants as being that they tend to speak to the infant as if he or she had the capacity to behave in a goal-directed and intentional manner.

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Studies on parenting as informed by independent socialization goals outside the attachment paradigm have revealed that face-to-face interaction and object play form a distal parenting style (Keller et al. 2004b). Face-to-face exchange tends to highlight the expression of emotions, as well as the timely regulation of facial and vocal/verbal expressions. The mechanism of contingency (that is, prompt and appropriate responsiveness to the infant’s signals) is believed to create the foundation for the development of agency and control (Keller et al. 2005). The infant learns to perceive him or herself as a causal agent (Keller et al. 1999, 2003) who actively participates in conversational exchanges between (quasi) equal partners (Kaye and Fogel 1980; Reddy et al. 1997). Faceto-face exchange therefore has often been linked to the experience of objectifying oneself and learning to be a differentiated, unique entity (Rochat 1997). The interdependent pathway: the development of a communal self The assumption of an interdependent developmental pathway has emerged from the identification of cultural biases in specific ways that attachment theory has been conceptualized, particularly with its focus on self-confidence and independence as outcomes of secure attachment (Greenfield et al. 2003; Harwood et al. 1995; Ka
gıt¸cıba¸sı 1996; Keller 2003; LeVine and Norman 2001; Rothbaum et al. 2000). In contrast, interdependent socio-cultural orientations have been described as particularly adaptive for life in a subsistence-based agricultural community, where cooperation based on intergenerational hierarchy is crucial for survival (Ka
gıtc¸ ıba¸sı 1996). Whether this subsistence perspective is based on current or historical contexts, children are viewed as having security value for their parents, with more children providing more economic support. Parenting strategies that emphasize obedience and family obligations are used to perpetuate this intergenerational hierarchy (Ka
gıtc¸ ıba¸sı 1990). Ci
¸ gdem Ka
gıt¸cıba¸sı has proposed a third model that has emerged within a pattern of global change from subsistencebased to more industrialized economies (Ka
gıt¸cıba¸sı 1994, 1996). This model describes a synthesis of individual agency and relatedness that involves material independence but psychological interdependence between generations. The development of this autonomous related self rests on parenting strategies that foster autonomy within a context of relatedness. Typically, attachment theory has not incorporated such variations in parental goals and practices, instead maintaining a unitary focus on individual autonomy and separation from others in defining

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the key features of sensitive caregiving and the outcomes of secure attachment. The interdependent world view The interdependent construal of the self (cf. also socio-centric, relational, allocentric) depicts an individual who is fundamentally connected with other human beings, “experiencing oneself as part of an encompassing social relationship” (Markus and Kitayama 1991: 227), and who subordinates individual interests to the collectivity, by being attentive, respectful, dependent, empathic, self-controlled, dutiful, self-sacrificing, conforming, and cooperative (Ka
gıtc¸ ıba¸sı 1996). This greater orientation toward societal interests is presumed to maintain social harmony and minimize conflicts. This “co-agency” (Keller 2003) is characterized by its fluid adaptation to situational demands and thus its focus on social roles. In contrast to the trait conception of the independent self, the interdependent self has often been defined as relying more on states. The origins of the interdependent self might be rooted in religion like the Hindu ideal of interpersonal fusion (Kakar 1978), the Confucian conceptions of “oneness and bonding of persons” (Stewart and Bond 2002), as well as many traditional religions, e.g., in Africa (Nsamenang and Lamb 1994). Socialization goals and parenting practices Socialization goals are embodied in socialization contexts and specific parenting practices. As might be expected, appropriate parenting strategies for infants with respect to socialization goals that support interdependence are quite different from the ones that primarily support independence. In particular, parenting in small-scale traditional rural communities often involves frequent carrying and close body contact, including co-sleeping (Keller et al. 2005; LeVine 1990, 1994). In addiftion, such societies often emphasize immediate or even anticipatory attention to infants’ negative signals, mainly by breastfeeding (Barr et al. 1991). Generally, parental attention is shared or co-occurring rather than exclusively directed to the child (Saraswathi and Pai 1997). Parental strategies that support interdependence have been described as using an apprenticeship model (Keller 2003), with training and control being major constituents (Carlson and Harwood 2003). The intent of the caregiver consists of modeling desired developmental outcomes, based on authority relationships. For example, in the Nso cultural community, as in many African farmer villages, the achievement of early

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motor milestones, especially early walking, is highly esteemed (cf. Keller et al. 2002, for a summary of studies). Yet, the Nso do not believe that motor milestones will mature of their own accord; instead, it is believed that babies will never learn to sit, crawl, stand, and walk if they are not taught, since “the bones and the back will be soft and not tightened together” (ibid.: 409). Accordingly, they practice a particular kind of motor stimulation that consists of lifting the baby up and down in a rather vigorous manner. In addition to this stimulation from caregivers, the Nso have created further training units for their babies (ibid.). It is assumed that the hierarchical structure and teaching mode of these early interactions prepare the infant to observe parents, siblings, and other relatives attentively in future learning contexts. Children participate in socio-cultural activities by imitation and guided participation (Greenfield 1997). However, it is not merely the joint activity that is crucial, but also explicit cultural teaching by both adults and older siblings. Children from as young as three years monitor their younger siblings’ activities and teach them everyday tasks (Maynard 2002). This interactional mode of teaching and training in infancy thus becomes extended into childhood with multiple instructors (cf. also Ochs 1982, for Western Samoan villagers; cf. also Chao 1994 for the conception of training in Chinese child-care conceptions). This early participation in cultural activities, as well as in monitoring and guiding younger siblings, helps children acquire socially valued competencies. In sum, the apprenticeship model of infancy is presumed to provide a foundation for the appropriation of everyday culture in interdependent cultural communities. The socialization agenda in this context is described as focusing on obedience, humility, and responsibility. The sibling relationship and an emphasis on obedience are presumed to help children develop valued social skills. So far, we have mainly concentrated on rural subsistence-based communities when describing developmental pathways that are informed by interdependent socialization goals. However, interdependence as a socio-cultural orientation appears also among industrialized societies. In particular, Asian societies such as Japan and South Korea have been portrayed as interdependent (Markus and Kitayama 1991; Rothbaum et al. 2000). Ka
gıtc¸ ıba¸sı’s third model offers a framework for understanding the ways in which industrialized societies have achieved a synthesis of individual agency and interpersonal relatedness as reflected in their socialization goals and parenting practices (Ka
gıtc¸ ıba¸sı 1996). In any event, the exact ways in which an understanding of interdependence among more industrialized societies may differ from that found in subsistence-based economies deserves further study. Such investigations

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will serve to enrich conceptualizations of sensitive caregiving and the antecedents of secure attachment in a global context. Culture, discourse, and socialization practices In addition to caregiving practices, verbal interactions also express cultural metamodels. Rabain-Jamin (e.g., Rabain-Jamin and SabeauJouannet 1997) analyzed the discourse style of Senegalese Wolof mothers interacting with their three- and four-month-old children. The Wolof mothers used language as a tool to integrate their babies into the social environment by involving other persons. A “good child” is viewed as one who accepts “anyone who comes” (ibid.: 429). In a study of the West African Nso farmers, similar language structures are apparent. For example, a mother of a three-month-old baby describes the importance of breastfeeding by stating, “When you are breastfeeding the child, he grows well, and is also healthy. Because if you deliver a child, without breastfeeding him well, then he will be losing weight or sometimes the child can die” (Keller et al. 2004a). In this example, the Nso mother integrates others, including the interviewer, into the discourse by using the communal “you,” and thus qualifies breastfeeding as a communal activity. She talks about the baby in physical terms regarding health and growth, rather than in mentalistic terms, such as a Los Angeles or a Berlin mother does when talking about breastfeeding. Moreover, a clear hierarchy between mother and baby is expressed: the moral responsibility for the growth and wellbeing of the baby is a causal agent of development (Keller et al. 2005; Yovsi and Keller 2003). These socialization strategies, as well as the behavioral regulations described earlier, can be summarized as instructing, training, and controlling the infant to learn his or her assigned place in the community from early on (Keller 2003). Training continues to be the dominant socialization strategy in early childhood. Ruth Chao (1994) identified and empirically verified an explicit training model of Chinese cultural socialization. “Chiao shun” expresses training as teaching and supervising in socially acceptable and expectable behaviors. The caregivers are responsible for this proper training. This includes behaving as appropriate social models demonstrating the behaviors that they wish to instill in their children, and preventing their children from having contact with behaviors that are considered to be unacceptable. Parental love and care are equivalent to control and guidance, as expressed in the concept of “guan” (Tobin et al. 1989). These parenting beliefs and practices may be viewed as intrusive or overly controlling and likely to

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result in insecure attachment relationships using the traditional attachment theory perspective that primarily values the independent pathway to competence. However, when viewed from an emic perspective as embedded in a cultural meaning system, parenting beliefs and practices emphasizing control and guidance may be seen as appropriate strategies associated with positive child socio-emotional outcomes and secure parent–child relationships (Carlson and Harwood 2003; Chao 1994; Harwood et al. 1999). The behavioral foundation of the interdependent self As mentioned previously, there is very little longitudinal research relating early experiences to developmental outcomes within an interdependent developmental pathway. Keller et al. (2004b) have analyzed the developmental consequences of early parenting experiences in different cultural environments. Specifically, it is proposed that the more proximal style of parenting, consisting primarily of close body contact and body stimulation (Keller et al. 2005), has different consequences for future developmental tasks than the experience of a more distal parenting style, consisting predominantly of face-to-face interaction and object stimulation. These authors found that the experience of distal parenting accelerates self-recognition whereas the experience of proximal parenting accelerates self-regulation. Self-regulation refers to the development of children’s ability to follow the everyday customs and valued norms that are embraced and prescribed by their parents and others. Emde et al. (1991) have stressed that the development of self-regulation reflects the dos and don’ts of early moral development. Self-regulation involves compliance, the ability to delay actions, and the modulation of emotions to contextual demands. Parents’ child-rearing styles play a critical role in social development and the development of self-regulatory behaviors. Research, however, has mainly assessed concurrent parenting behaviors, when pressures to develop self-regulatory behaviors begin during the second year of life in many cultural communities (Whiting 1963; Whiting and Edwards 1988). Although the study of compliance (that is, the ability and willingness to modulate behavior in accordance with caregiver commands and expectations) has been one of the most active areas in toddler research, most of the research relates to North American families (Edwards and Liu 2002). Children’s compliance in these studies is related to maternal correlates, mainly maternal warmth and control in interactive contexts. Mothers who display warmth, support, and guidance are more likely to get their toddlers to comply (Crockenberg and Litman 1990). It is

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possible, however, that emphasis on compliance as well as on warmth as an interactional mechanism differs among cultural communities that are oriented toward more independent or interdependent socialization goals. Specifically, it is likely that in communities with interdependent socio-cultural orientations, the emphasis on compliance for toddlers is more consistent and absolute (Chao 1995) than the emphasis on compliance in communities with independent socio-cultural orientations, where it is likely to be more related to individual agency based on reciprocity in the parent–child relationship. It is also likely that the social regulation of noncompliance differs in communities with different socio-cultural orientations. Whereas noncompliance is considered a moral transgression in traditional rural communities, it is regarded among western middle class families to be an integral part of a child’s emerging skills as an autonomous agent (Crockenberg and Litman 1990). Studies on children’s self-recognition established that toddlers between fifteen and eighteen months of age begin to respond to their mirror image as if they know that it is their own face (e.g., Lewis and BrooksGunn 1979). These behaviors are taken as evidence that the child has acquired conceptual self-knowledge, and has become aware that the self is a separate, physical entity and a source of actions, words, ideas, and feelings (Edwards and Liu 2002). Although there is an ongoing interest in comparative studies on mirror recognition (Bard et al. 2005; Povinelli 1996), cross-cultural studies are literally absent. It is likely, however, that cultural environments that value independence more than interdependence promote the formation of a categorical self earlier than cultural communities that value interdependence more than independence. The results by Keller et al. (2005) suggest that children may be likely to attain developmental milestones earlier when they are in keeping with the prevailing goals of their cultural group (LeVine and Norman 2001). This provides further evidence that accurate interpretations of child developmental outcomes require in-depth knowledge of the cultural context, including the parenting values and practices in which the child is situated. Effects of social change and interactions between the pathways The two pathways that we have described in this chapter represent prototypical cultural models. Different cultural groups are likely to vary among themselves with regard to the precise nuances of meaning and behavioral expression that they give to the realization of these idealized constructs. Further study is needed to delineate the precise contours

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that “individualism” and “interdependence” are likely to take among different cultural groups and the conceptions of relationships that are implied in diverse cultural models. In addition, it is important to keep in mind that cultural models change over time within any group of people. As such, they are constantly transformed and modified, not only by each individual’s construction of cultural information (Tomasello 2001) but also in response to broad historical change. Previously, we referred to the Model of Family Change that Ka
gıtc¸ ıba¸sı (1996) has described for cultures like Turkey that experience rapid sociodemographic transitions. Evidence for the resulting autonomous-relational orientation that Ka
gıtc¸ ıba¸sı has introduced (Ka
gıtc¸ ıba¸sı 1994, 1996, 2005) in family relationships has been presented by Keller et al. (2003). This study compares interactional patterns among Greek and German urban middle class mothers and their three-month-old babies. As predicted, both groups of mothers preferred a distal interactional strategy, consisting of more face-to-face contact and play with objects and less body contact and body stimulation. However, the Greek mothers expressed significantly more interactional warmth in terms of smiling during the face-to-face interactions than the German mothers, who in turn reacted with significantly more contingency to babies’ signals than did the Greek mothers. Thus, the German urban middle class mothers appeared to emphasize independence in both the parenting system (face-to-face exchange and object play) and the interactional mechanism (contingency), whereas the Greek urban middle class mothers emphasized independence with the parenting system, but relatedness with the interactional mechanism (warmth). An autonomous-relational psychology of parenting has also been described for middle class families of San Jose, Costa Rica, Beijing, China, Delhi, India, and urban educated West African Nso families, as predicted by Ka
gıt¸cıba¸sı’s assumption of emotional interdependence but economic independence of urban educated families in traditionally interdependent societies (for a summary, see Keller 2007). Longitudinal studies that capture historical change are rare. In a study addressing patterns of parenting, Keller and Lamm (2005) analyzed two comparable samples of German middle class mothers, twenty-five years apart, interacting with their three-month-old babies. As predicted, the distal style (face-to-face exchange and object play) significantly increased over this time period, whereas proximal parenting patterns (body contact and warmth expressed in facial expression and tonal parameters of the voice) decreased significantly. These changes in interactional patterns co-occur with sociodemographic changes, especially a declining

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fertility rate, the postponement of marriage and birth of the first child, increased frequencies of divorce, as well as increased levels of education. Change is already evident when considering shorter time perspectives. In a cross-cultural study analyzing parenting with three-month-old babies in two samples, each having been collected four to five years apart, among the Cameroonian Nso, Costa Rican, and German urban families, we could confirm increases of distal parenting and decreases of proximal parenting across the samples. Yet the extent of change was different among the samples, with the biggest change being among the two German samples (Keller et al. 2004b). Concluding remarks Our knowledge base must expand to encompass a variety of developmental pathways, including those which emphasize independence, interdependence, and combinations of some aspects of both autonomy and relatedness. In addition, we must remain aware of the fluidity of cultural beliefs and practices across time, among various groups, and as a result of the interactions between groups. Investigations based on attachment theory have provided us with invaluable knowledge regarding the special relationship between a child and his or her primary caregivers and the potential consequences over the life span. In order to improve our understanding of developmental processes within the global community, researchers must now begin the difficult task of teasing out the western cultural biases inherent in many of our developmental theories. In addition, we must further elucidate cultural variation in our models of primary relationships, as well as the developmental pathways that lead to them, as these are manifest in groups around the world. In the previous paragraphs we have portrayed developmental pathways to independence and interdependence. At this point we would like to emphasize that the scientific ouevre of Ci
¸ gdem Ka
gıt¸cıba¸sı has strongly stimulated and guided our thinking in the field, as well as that of many other developmental cross-cultural researchers. It was her sharp differentiations in conceptualizing cultural models that allowed us to disentangle the complexity of independence and interdependence into basic dimensions, that are independent of each other and that can form multiple combinations. Ci
¸ gdem was also among the first to systematically analyze social change with respect to cultural models of family functioning and children’s value in the family system. Many more generations will build on the basis she has created.

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11

Microgenesis of narrative competence during preschool interactions: Effects of the relational context Aylin C. K€ untay

I examine socialization for competence, not only from the point of view of the child developing cognitive skills but in terms of the total interactive process of teaching and learning in cultural context and the meaning attributed to it by all those involved. (Ka
gıtc¸ ıba¸sı 2007: 60) Ci
¸ gdem Ka
gıt¸cıba¸sı was an influential socializing agent leading to my entry into psychology as my chosen field. As she is a long-term family friend, the topic of her emergence as a foremost social scientist in the world often blossomed in our dinnertime talk. When I wanted to switch from another field to psychology, her encouraging words exhilarated me and comforted my family. In fact, she was the one to call and inform me that my transfer to psychology has been approved. I remember that bath-robed moment of my life vividly, where my mother rushed me out from a shower to accept that personally momentous call from Ci
¸ gdem. Over the following years, I learned a lot from her both as a student and a colleague. I am honored to have the opportunity to deliver the following piece of work, which owes much to her guidance and encouragement, in celebration of her theoretical and applied contributions to socialization of children into competent beings.

Self-stories derived from autobiographical memory and how children develop these cognitive/linguistic structures have been a focus of intensive interest in the last two decades. The work on children’s narrative competence stems from at least three lines of concern: (1) Narratives as indicators of self-development. In this view, narratives are seen as the primordial discourse structures in which humans organize self-related experience (Engel 1995; Ochs 1996). As Georgakopoulou (2002) suggests, “Narrative is widely held as a fundamental mode of discourse, unquestionably primary in everyday social lives, and central to the organization and sense making of personal and socio-cultural experience.” (2) Narratives as indicators of cognitive-conceptual development. According to this line of research, the ability to represent an experience in narrative form is critical to organizing and retelling the experience in 178

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autobiographical memory (Nelson 1996; Nelson and Fivush 2004). (3) Narratives as indicators of linguistic development. This approach proposes that narratives reveal children’s levels of language competence through the degree of coherence, the organization, and the linguistic constructions employed in generating stories (Berman and Slobin 1994). In other words, narratives provide fruitful venues for researchers to seek for the most sophisticated linguistic devices that children have in their repertoire. Whether conceptualized primarily as an indicator of development in selfrelated, cognitive-conceptual, or linguistic areas, narrative discourse is central to the interface of all these specific developments. As Nelson (2003) aptly suggests, narrativizing personal experiences is a way of establishing shared meaning, often engendered by social functions. Adults tell narratives to one another to inform, to warn, or to entertain, i.e., with socially interactive and culturally relevant goals in mind. The conversational analysis literature examining adults’ multiparty discourse finds that conversational narratives can be occasioned by a range of social goals that emerge in the ongoing flow of the interactional context (Jefferson 1978; Sacks 1972; Schegloff 1997). Although the literature on adults’ storytelling has examined such social functions of narratives, work with children has mostly focused on the development of structural competence rather than the contexts that occasion narrative talk. The cognitive developmentalists (Mandler 1982; Rumelhart 1975; Stein and Glenn 1979; Thorndyke 1977) led the way in working on children’s narratives, seeking to lay out the developmental course of acquisition of pieces of universal story schemata such as settings and problem resolutions. Children’s stories were judged in terms of completeness with respect to universal story structures found in adults’ notions of stories. More recently, the socio-cultural developmental viewpoint took up the study of narrative development by conceptualizing it as an interactive skill, which is acquired in the social context of everyday conversations (Eisenberg 1985; Fivush and Reese 1992; Gee 1991; Miller and Moore 1989; Nicolopoulou 1997; Ochs and Taylor 1992; Peterson and McCabe 1994; Snow 1990). One of the offshoots of this approach, the social interactionist perspective, has shown to us that the qualities of parent– child discussion of the events that the child participates in plays crucial roles in organizing children’s own memories as encoded in their narratives (Haden et al. 2001; Nelson and Fivush 2004; Reese 2002). A large body of research has accumulated on the influence of children’s narrative interactions with their parents on the development of their storytelling capacities. Peterson and McCabe (2004; see also Peterson et al. 1999) have shown that the degree of variability in families’ narrative

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exchanges with their children predicts the children’s own narrative competence. Fivush and colleagues (Fivush and Fromhoff 1988; Fivush et al. 1996) have demonstrated that parents who use an elaborative style in talking about past events with their children lead to children who themselves produce relatively more richly structured narrative discourse when asked to narrate. In these views, parents are seen as scaffolding and modeling culturally prevalent styles of storytelling to their offspring during interactions of collaborative remembering. How other (i.e., non-parental) everyday relationships of young children affect their narrative performance and competence in collaborative remembering episodes is not studied as extensively as family narratives (Pratt and Fiese 2004). My research with Turkish-speaking children has examined the communicative practices that engender narrative talk in the institutional settings of preschools. The social relations in preschools include a few teachers and multiple peers. The physical environment is often filled with materials such as blocks, art supplies, puzzles, books, and other toys. Thus, under what conditions do children engage in narration about past personal experiences in an environment filled with attractive objects and multiple potential conversational partners? The basic question in my research in Turkish preschools concerned the functions and the forms of naturalistically occasioned narratives in children’s interactions in the peer group. I found that the formal complexity of narrative discourse that children produced was often dependent on socially relevant functions emerging in children’s multi-party interactions. When child narrators told self-related stories, these stories served to “interactionally position” (Wortham 2000) themselves with respect to prior narration, often leading to richer content and more elaborated narrative structures than those included in preceding talk-in-interaction. Such interactions often lead to rounds of narratives, as established in previous work (K€ untay and Ervin-Tripp 1997; K€ untay and Senay ¸ 2003). In this chapter, I will focus on how multi-party interactions with peers and teachers gave rise to certain social functions such as one-upmanship, which, in turn, led to increasingly more sophisticated discourse forms in subsequent storytellers. Method Research setting The talk-in-interaction corpora examined in this chapter include naturally occasioned narratives collected from Turkish preschool children _ as part of fieldwork conducted in two preschools in Istanbul. These two preschools are described by the pseudonyms Ubaruz School and

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Table 11.1. Distribution of participants by center, age, and gender Eryavuz Center

Ubaruz Center

Age

Male

Female

Male

Female

3- to 4-year-olds 5- to 6-year-olds

11 7

2 5

5 8

1 7

Eryavuz School. Almost all of the children in the Eryavuz School had families of higher middle to upper class socio-economic backgrounds. The Ubaruz School catered to the children of the staff of a big university, and therefore included children of more heterogeneous socio-economic backgrounds. The preschools selected for the study were both educationally, rather than custodially, oriented (Ka
gıt¸cıba¸sı et al. 1988). A preschool educational program called High/Scope (Hochmann et al. 1979) was implemented at both of the sites. The High/Scope system divides the curriculum into Circle Time, Planning-of-Working Time, Working Time, Remembering-of-Working Time, and Small Group Time. Participants The research design was maximally inclusive of all the children who were attending either of the two preschools during the course of the field study. Overall, there were forty-six three- to six-year-old children participating in the study, twenty-five from the Eryavuz School and twentyone from the Ubaruz School. Table 11.1 summarizes the gender and age distributions of the participants in each of the preschools. Data collection The field studies in each of the preschools continued for two and a half months. I visited the preschools for two to three days a week throughout the course of the study. In the first week of the study, I familiarized myself with the spatial and temporal arrangements of the schools. In the meantime, the children became accustomed to my presence in various contexts. At the end of a week in each of the preschools, I started audiorecording (and occasionally videorecording) various organized and freetime activities. Some of the recorded settings were free-time activities during which children sat around and got involved in some loosely structured activity. Others were more formal classroom settings, where the teachers elicited and shaped participation on previously established topics. For this chapter, sixty hours of recordings are included.

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All the recorded data were transcribed. The transcripts included descriptions of the settings, the participants, and the nonverbal interactions. Identification of narrative rounds Children’s talk displays many different types of extended discourse (Berman 1995; Preece 1987) that might lead to multiple and conflicting definitions of narrative (ErvinTripp and K€ untay 1997), and often is hard to differentiate from other genres of discourse (K€ untay 2004). In this study, a broad working definition of narrative was adopted in order to take into account minimal narrativelike discourse that is frequently observed in child discourse. Sperry and Sperry (1996) define “a minimal narrativelike displaced sequence as any topic-centered discourse containing at least one asserted verb about a displaced action and one other asserted utterance relevant to the topic” (pp. 445–46). In accordance with this definition, two criteria were used in extracting narrative segments from the recordings: (1) whether the discourse is extended, that is, whether there is more than one utterance referring to the recounted event, and (2) whether the discourse refers to personally experienced events that are temporally displaced in the past or in the future. The segments of talk that include both of these criteria were included in the analysis as narratives. Although narratives are often thought to concern real or pretend memories that refer to past events (Labov and Waletzky 1967; Polanyi 1989), children’s talk also includes hypothetical narratives set in the future tense (McCabe 1997). The criterion of encoding past events has not been unequivocally accepted by all past researchers as a necessary indicator of narrativity (Ervin-Tripp and K€ untay 1997; McCabe 1997; Ochs et al. 1989). Accordingly, the present study includes narratives of events that refer both to past and future events, although most narratives in the data concerned the past. In order to locate sequences of narratives in the transcripts, two coders independently read over the datasets and marked off extended talk about past or future events. The next step for both of the coders was to consider the context of the narrative to determine whether further narratives could be located. Those narratives that are preceded and/or succeeded by narratives from other participants were included in the analysis as parts of rounds of narratives. Ninety-five rounds of narrative, fifty-two from the Eryavuz corpus and forty-three from the Ubaruz corpus, were identified. Findings and discussion In previous work (K€ untay and Senay ¸ 2003), I examined the different ways children achieve thematic relevance with prior stories. In this

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chapter, I will elaborate on how a certain social goal of “one-upmanship” appears to characterize the activity of rounds of narration. One-upmanship in this context refers to modeling on and attempting to outperform the discourse specimen provided by a peer. As Kyratzis (1999) reports in her study of American preschoolers, personal narratives were rare in peer-to-peer talk in the Turkish preschool settings. There was only one such narrative in the entire corpus, about a boy’s adventures in a computer game that was told exclusively to a peer, who did not show much interest in being the designated addressee. The children spent most of their unsupervised time in playing with toys and role play, showing a dispreference for talk-centered activities such as storytelling. Only when an adult was present and willing to allow for extended turns from the children, did they show an interest in recountings of personal experiences. The presence of peers in the same setting led to rounds of narratives, where children took turns in claiming and counterclaiming the floor from one another in telling about fragments of experiences. Such interactions took place during mealtimes or Circle Time, where groups of five to ten children sat around their teacher to conduct a certain function such as eating or discussing a prespecified topic. In the next two sections, I will demonstrate the role of teachers and the role of peers in this activity through the analysis of talkin-interaction during the rounds. Role of teachers The teachers acted as the managers of these multi-party interactions, and thus determined the timing and extent of storytelling behavior, both through nonverbal and verbal behavior. Excerpt 1 happened during Circle Time, before the teacher (T1) had a chance to initiate the topic of the day. The child participants are a boy age 3;10 (Can) and a girl age 4;1 (Beril). Although there are five more children participating in the activity, it is clear who the child narrators are designating as their preferred addressee from the summons they employ in (1) and (4) (i.e., €og
retmenim “teacher”). The first narrator, Can, launches a narrative about his unsupervised swimming adventures in the sea (1–2), which is a remarkable childhood experience by any standard. The teacher responds to the story by a positive evaluation (3). Right after this enthusiastic uptake by the teacher, the second narrator captures the teacher’s attention through a double summons (4), and chimes in with a relevant story about her own swimming-related activities. The second child holds the floor for many turns, elaborating on the previously introduced theme of independent swimming, which was already approved by the teacher.

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Because of Beril’s successful taking over of the floor, Can initially has to leave his account uncompleted. After a few unsuccessful attempts to reclaim the floor (which happens in parts not included here), Can returns to the same theme in (25), offering some elaborations. It is clear that it is the teacher who ends this round (and the Circle Time encompassing it) in a formulaic way (33) after asking for any contributions from the group of children (28–29, 31). Excerpt 1 (Ubaruz data) €og
retmenim ben- ben arabada banyomu – mayomu 1 c an : giydim1 teacher, I – I in the car my bath – I put on my swimming suit 2 ¼ sonra da denizde kendim y€ uzd€ um and then I swam by myself in the sea 3 t1: c¸ok g€ uzel very nice! 4 b e r il : €og
retmenim €og
retmenim, teacher teacher. 5 bi kere biz havuza gitmi¸stik. once we went to the pool 6 mayomu giydim, I wore my swimming suit 7 sonra bi atladım, then I jumped immediately 8 kendim y€ uzd€ um, I swam by myself 9 annem de gelmedi. and my mother did not come 10 za- oraya gittim sonra, I went there then 11 sonra tekrar atladım, then I jumped again 12 sola gittim. I went to the left 13 bi daha atladım. I jumped again 1

Transcription symbols used: (1) “¼” ¼ latching on previous turn, (2) underlining ¼ stressed word, (3) “,” ¼ continuing intonation, (4) “.” ¼ final intonation, (5) “..” ¼ short pause, (6) “-” ¼ self-correction, (7) “(0.5)” ¼ half a second’s pause, (8) “((xxxx))” ¼ observer/researcher commentary or contextual notes, (9) “(.)” ¼ very brief pause, (11) “hhhh” ¼ laughter, (12) “:” ¼ vowel lengthening.

Narrative competence during preschool interactions

14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22

23

t1:

24

185

€st€ sonra da.. a s¸ey ee simidin u une geldim and then.. aa I climbed over the life buoy sonra tekrar d€ us¸t€ um havuza, then I again fell into the pool y€ uzd€ um I swam €ste geldim bi daha u again I came over to the top bi daha d€ us¸t€ um again I fell c¸ıktım o zaman that time I got out €k denize- k€ €k havuza gittik sonra k€ uc¸u uc¸u then we went to the little sea- little pool y€ uzd€ uk we swam sonra da (0.5) orda sisi g€ord€ um arkada¸slarımla beraber. and then I saw the fog together with my friends €oyle mi? is that so? korkmadın mı? weren’t you afraid?

[Thirty-nine lines of intervening talk about swimming, where other participants chime in with some talk about swimming. One child offers a future planning narrative, describing his future projected activities regarding swimming.] 25

ca n:

26 27 28

t 1:

29

t1:

€og
retmenim babam da denizde beni kendi y€ uzd€ ur€ uyodu ama teacher my father too was helping me swim in the sea but uzemedim. ¼ ben de kendim y€ (as for me) I also could not swim by myself ama babam beni bırakmıyordu but my father was not letting go of me s¸imdi now ba¸ska bi¸sey s€oylemek istiyomusunuz? do [you] want to say anything else? ((addressed to the whole group))

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30

ca n:

31

t 1:

32

ca n:

33

t1:

ha:yı:r no: yokmu? Nothing? ı-ıh no beraber saatimiz bu kadarla sona ersin let our circle time end with this much

In addition to managing the allocation of the floor to the child participants, what is the role of the teacher in such narrative interactions? In other words, how does the teacher’s presence lead to such rounds of narratives? Once the theme of an original story captures the teacher’s attention, other children generate their own personal narratives around the theme that is already accepted. In attempts to talk more than and/or outperform the previous narrator, subsequent storytellers often produce more elaborate and structurally complex narratives. Thus, complex narrative structures are displayed, with the support of culturally meaningful social relations such as child–teacher relationships embedded in the institutional framework of preschools. Often, and especially in organized classroom interactions such as that detailed in Excerpt 1, the topical agenda is set up by the teacher in advance. Even if a child speaker manages to take the floor from the teacher, the tone of the teacher’s response to this initiation is crucial in determining whether the participants can sustain thematically similar talk. Yet, to increase their chances of relevance, the children have to pay attention to what the previous speaker has been saying, not only to the teacher’s reaction to it. In what ways children use their peers’ prior talk as a bridge into their own contributions is the topic of the next section. Role of peers Although peer-to-peer narration is scarce, the effect of other peers in the setting is conspicuous in these rounds of narratives. First of all, the stories of other children in the group constitute cues for subsequent stories. Children participating in group activities seem to feel an urge to pull out a relevant experience from their personal narrative repertoire once a first story gets told. Secondly, often the subsequent storyteller enacts his or her story using a more elaborate structure than the preceding one(s). Excerpt 2 is a case in point. The participants in this round are two boys (4;10 and 4;11), and the adult researcher. In this excerpt, we see that the adult prompts Hakkı to provide a resolution (3) and to

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evaluate his feelings (5) about the events presented in his original story (1–2). When Ethem, the second storyteller, launches a similar story (8–10), he spontaneously provides a resolution (11–12) and indicates his internal response (13). The adult’s intervention in the first story appears to have resulted in the subsequent story being developed further to include the elaborations that the adult was seeking in the first child’s version. That is, the structural elements prompted into the narration of other children by adult participants are often spontaneously introduced into the discourse of subsequent children. Thus, the components of peers’ narrations are filtered through the mediation of the adult into subsequent storytellers’ discourses, leading to more elaborate narratives by subsequent participants across conversational time. Excerpt 2 (Eryavuz data) 1 h a kk i: ben bi kere hasta olmu¸stum, once I got sick 2 bana i
g ne yaptılar. they gave a shot to me 3 ad ul t: aa! sonra oh! then 4 h ak ki : o i
g neyi eeee- batırınca kendime geldim. that needle, mmm- when they inserted it, I got better 5 ad u lt : acıdımı? did it hurt? 6 h akki : acımadı. it did not hurt 7 hi¸c acımadı. it did not hurt at all 8 e th e m : bi kerecik de ben ameliyat olmu¸stum, once I also had a surgery 9 orda da i
g ne- i
g ne yapmı¸slardı, there also needle- they also gave me a shot 10 bırakmı¸slardı o i
g neyi kolumda, they left that needle in my arm €oyle gitmi- gittiler, 11 and lef- left €oyle durup kalması gerekmi¸s, 12 (the needle) needed to stay put like that 13 ben de onun ic¸in hic¸ a
g lamadım. and therefore I did not cry at all

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In these rounds of narratives, there appears to be an urge to relate a personal experience relevant to the topic at hand. Excerpt 3, for example, follows twenty-two lines of two other children telling the teacher about their respective visits to the doctor. Osman, a boy aged 4;2, contributes with a report of the non-occurrence of the topical event in his life. By reporting that his mother did not take him to the doctor, Osman justifies why he does not participate in the group activity of a story round. Since he does not have a relevant experience that he can employ to tie in to the previous themes included in the other’s stories, he will not be able to relate a relevant story, but still supplies a turn. Excerpt 3 (Ubaruz data) o s m a n annem beni doktora g€ ot€ urmedi my mother did not take me to the doctor In these rounds of narratives, second narrators often claimed to have exactly the same experience as first narrators. Since such claims led the first narrators to relinquish the floor to another child, the transitions were often contentious. Excerpt 4 is an example, where Mert (5;10) relates an experience, which Hasan (5;1) tries to emulate in a subsequent story. Mert challenges Hasan about the accuracy of his reported experience (5–6), which is the basis for his demand for the floor (4). In (11), Mert bluffs Hasan by offering a forced-choice question to which neither alternative is the right answer. The interaction continues, with the dispute escalating and Mert telling Hasan to shut up. Later, Mert complains that it is always only Hasan who is telling stories. Excerpt 4 (Eryavuz data) 1 mert: Famecity’e gittim, (I) went to Famecity 2 orda yeni bi oyun c¸ıkmı¸s, there, there was a new game 3 a du lt : haa mmmh 4 h a s an : aa ben o oyunu oynadım oh, I played that game 5 m e rt: oynadın you played 6 nasıldı? ((challenging tone)) how was it? ((challenging tone)) 7 h as a n: c¸ok iyiydi (it) was very good

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8

m e r t:

9

h as a n:

10

adul t:

11

mert:

12

hasan:

13

mert:

14 15

adult:

189

nasıl bi¸seydi? ((challenging tone)) what kind of a thing was it? ((challenging tone)) yani c¸ok de
g i¸sik bi oyun well, a very different game tamam sen anlat Mert OK, you tell (us), Mert yumurtanın ic¸inde bayku¸s mu c¸ıkıyodu (.) ku¸s mu? was (an) owl or (a) bird coming out of the egg? ku¸s c¸ıkıyodu. ((hh)) (a) bird was coming out hayır ikisi de de
g il no, none of those civciv c¸ıkıyodu (a) chick was coming out hhhhhhh

This excerpt is a good illustration of the interactional strategies used by preschool-age narrators in managing their position in group talk. One way to seize the floor and assert one’s own position is to interrupt the coparticipant and state that you have had a similar experience to that just reported, as demonstrated by Hasan in excerpt 4. Another tactic is to challenge the accuracy of the reported experience, eliminating the justification for the co-participant’s embarkation on a long stretch of discourse, as demonstrated by Mert in 6, 8, and 11. Conclusions Both adults and peers contribute to the socialization of narrative competence in young Turkish children. Adults conduct their role by initiating topics, and selectively attending to and helping to sustain certain topics initiated by children. Peers, on the other hand, provide skeletal narratives which other children as narrators build upon. In sum, children weave in both components from other children’s narratives and adults’ responses to these materials, while working towards becoming competent narrators in this subculture. Narrative discourse is often seen as the pinnacle of autonomous and complex language production in children. In addition, selves and autobiographical memories are often conceptualized as being reflected and constructed in narrative discourse. In such ways development of narrative competence can be thought mainly to contribute to the development of

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individuation. Yet, when we examine the microgenesis of narrative interactions, we are struck by the extent to which social interactions with peers and adults play a role in fostering narrative competence. These rounds of narratives allow juxtaposing of self-experiences with those of others, contributing to the relatedness aspect of self in addition to individuation. An issue that does not get enough attention in the literature about narrative development is how non-parental social relations and interactions contribute to the development of autobiographical narrative, and, in turn, to that of autobiographical memory and self knowledge. Although parental interactions play an important role in scaffolding and encouraging autonomous narrative discourse in children’s homes, communicative practices and social organizations in preschools call for paying attention to what is scaffolded in other children’s discourse by significant adults such as teachers. Thus, the social roles vis-a-vis peers and teachers, and the interactive goals originating from these social roles, prompt children to develop narrative discourse, often emulating similar structures approved in prior talk. In these rounds of narratives, Turkish preschool children seek to display themselves interactionally through preferred identities such as a “well-behaved boy” or a “swimmer girl.” How the significant adults responded to the interactional positioning of peers as previous speakers is crucial in determining the form that subsequent narratives take. This work shows that children develop the ability to produce autonomous narratives in relational contexts and with relational aims, contributing to the idea of “the autonomous-relational self” as proposed by Ka
gıt¸cıba¸sı (1996, 2007). In other words, narrative competence, though often conceived as an individualized skill, runs its course of development within a rich medium of human relatedness. How these relational contexts unfold in different institutional and cultural settings, then, must be crucial in determining the eventual contour that narrative competence assumes as well as how the self is construed through autobiographical reminiscing. references R. A. Berman, “Narrative competence and storytelling performance: How children tell stories in different contexts,” Journal of Narrative and Life History, 5 (1995), 285–314. R. A. Berman and D. Slobin. Relating Events in Narrative: A Cross-linguistic Developmental Study (Hillsdale, NJ: Lawrence Erlbaum, 1994). A. Eisenberg, “Learning to describe past experiences in conversation,” Discourse Processes, 8 (1985) 1, 177–204.

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S. Engel, The Stories Children Tell: Making Sense of the Narratives of Childhood (New York: W. H. Freeman, 1995). S. Ervin-Tripp and A. K€ untay, “The occasioning and structure of conversational stories,” in T. Giv on (ed.), Conversation: Cognitive, Communicative and Social Perspectives (Amsterdam: John Benjamins, 1997), pp. 133–66. R. Fivush and F. Fromhoff, “Style and structure in mother–child conversations about the past,” Discourse Processes, 11 (1988), 337–55. R. Fivush and E. Reese, “The social construction of autobiographical memory,” in M. A. Conway, D. C. Rubin, H. Spinnler, and W. Wagenaar (eds.), Theoretical Perspectives on Autobiographical Memory (Amsterdam: Kluwer, 1992), pp. 1–28. R. Fivush, C. Haden, and E. Reese, “Remembering, recounting and reminiscing: The development of autobiographical memory in social context,” in D. Rubin (ed.), Reconstructing Our Past: An Overview of Autobiographical Memory (New York: Cambridge University Press, 1996), pp. 341–59. J. P. Gee, “Memory and myth: A perspective on narrative,” in A. McCabe and C. Peterson (eds.), Developing Narrative Structure (Hillsdale, NJ: Lawrence Erlbaum, 1991), pp. 1–25. A. Georgakopoulou, “Greek children and familiar narratives in family contexts: En route to cultural performances,” in S. Blum-Kulka and C. Snow (eds.), Talking to Adults: The Contribution of Multiparty Discourse to Language Acquisition (Hillsdale, NJ: Lawrence Erlbaum, 2002), pp. 33–54. C. A. Haden, P. A. Ornstein, C. O. Eckerman, and S. M. Didow, “Mother–child conversational interactions as events unfold: Linkages to subsequent remembering,” Child Development, 72 (2001), 1016–31. M. Hochmann, B. Banet, and D. P. Weikart, Young Children in Action: A Manual for Preschool Educators (Ypsilanti, MI: High/Scope Press, 1979). G. Jefferson, “Sequential aspects of storytelling in conversation,” in J. Schenkein (ed.), Studies in the Organization of Conversation (New York: Academic Press, 1978), pp. 219–48. C. ¸ Ka
gıtc¸ ıba¸sı, “The autonomous-relational self: A new synthesis,” European Psychologist, 1 (1996), 180–86. C. ¸ Ka
gıt¸cıba¸sı, Family, Self and Human Development across Cultures: Theory and Applications (Mahwah, NJ: Lawrence Erlbaum, 2007). C. ¸ Ka
gıt¸cıba¸sı, D. Sunar, and S. Bekman, Comprehensive Preschool Education Project: Final Report (Manuscript report No. 209e) (Istanbul: Bo
gazic¸ i University, 1988). A. C. K€ untay, “Lists as alternative discourse structures to narratives in preschool children’s conversations,” Discourse Processes, 38 (2004), 95–118. A. C. K€ untay and S. Ervin-Tripp, “Narrative structure and conversational circumstances,” Journal of Narrative and Life History, 7 (1997), 113–20. _ Senay, A. C. K€ untay and I. ¸ “Narratives beget narratives: Rounds of stories in Turkish preschool conversations,” Journal of Pragmatics, 35 (2003), 559–87. A. Kyratzis, “Narrative identity: Preschoolers’ self-construction through narrative in same-sex friendship group dramatic play,” Narrative Inquiry, 9 (1999), 427–55.

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W. Labov and J. Waletzky, “Narrative analysis: Oral versions of personal experience,” in J. Helm (ed.), Essays on the Verbal and Visual Arts (Seattle: University of Washington Press, 1967), pp. 12–44. J. M. Mandler, “Some uses and abuses of story grammar,” Discourse Processes, 50 (1982), 305–18. A. McCabe, “Developmental and cross-cultural aspects of children’s narration,” in M. Bamberg (ed.), Narrative Ability and Human Development (Hillsdale, NJ: Lawrence Erlbaum, 1997), pp. 137–74. P. J. Miller and B. B. Moore, “Narrative conjunctions of caregiver and child: A comparative perspective on socialization through stories,” Ethos, 17 (1989), 428–49. K. Nelson, Language in Cognitive Development: The Emergence of the Mediated Mind (New York: Cambridge University Press, 1996). K. Nelson, “Self and social functions: Individual autobiographical memory and collective narrative,” Memory, 11 (2003), 125–36. K. Nelson and R. Fivush, “The emergence of autobiographical memory: A social cultural developmental theory,” Psychological Review, 111 (2004), 486–511. A. Nicolopoulou, “Children and narratives: Towards an interpretive and sociocultural approach,” in M. Bamberg (ed.), Narrative Development: Six Approaches (Hillsdale, NJ: Lawrence Erlbaum, 1997), pp. 197–216. E. Ochs, “Narrating the self,” Annual Review of Anthropology, 25 (1996), 19–43. E. Ochs and C. Taylor, “Family narrative as political activity,” Discourse and Society, 3 (1992), 301–40. E. Ochs, R. Smith, and C. Taylor, “Detective stories at dinnertime: problemsolving through co-narration,” Cultural Dynamics, 2 (1989), 238–57. C. Peterson and A. McCabe, “A social interactionist account of developing decontextualized narrative skill,” Developmental Psychology, 30 (1994), 937–48. C. Peterson and A. McCabe, “Echoing our parents: Parental influences on children’s narration,” in M. W. Pratt and B. E. Fiese (eds.), Family Stories and the Lifecourse: Across Time and Generations (Mahwah, NJ: Lawrence Erlbaum, 2004), pp. 27–54. C. Peterson, B. Jesso, and A. McCabe, “Encouraging narratives in preschoolers: An intervention study,” Journal of Child Language, 26 (1999), 49–67. I. Polanyi, Telling the American Story: A Structural and Cultural Analysis of Conversational Storytelling (Cambridge, MA: MIT Press, 1989). W. M. Pratt and B. H. Fiese, Family Stories and the Life Course: Across Time and Generations (Mahwah, NJ: Lawrence Erlbaum, 2004). A. Preece, “The range of narrative forms conversationally produced by young children,” Journal of Narrative and Life History, 14 (1987), 353–73. E. Reese, “Social factors in the development of autobiographical memory: The state of the art,” Social Development, 11 (2002), 124–42. D. E. Rumelhart, “Notes on a schema for stories,” in D. G. Bobrow and A. Collins (eds.), Representation and Understanding: Studies in Cognitive Science (New York: Academic Press, 1975), pp. 211–36. H. Sacks, “On the analyzability of stories by children,” in J. G. D. Hymes (ed.), Directions in Sociolinguistics (New York: Holt, Rinehart and Winston, 1972), pp. 325–45.

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E. A. Schegloff, “Narrative analysis thirty years later,” Journal of Narrative and Life History, 7 (1997), 97–106. C. E. Snow, “Building memories: The ontogeny of autobiography,” in D. Cicchetti and M. Beeghly (eds.), The Self in Transition (Chicago, IL: University of Chicago Press, 1990), pp. 213–42. L. L. Sperry and D. E. Sperry, “Early development of narrative skills,” Cognitive Development, 11 (1996), 443–65. N. L. Stein and C. G. Glenn, “An analysis of story comprehension in elementary school children,” in F. O. Freedle (ed.), New Directions in Discourse Processing (Norwood, NJ: Ablex, 1979), pp. 53–120. P. W. Thorndyke, “Cognitive structures in comprehension and memory of narrative discourse,” Cognitive Psychology, 9 (1977), 77–110. S. Wortham, “Interactional positioning and narrative self-construction,” Narrative Inquiry, 10 (2000), 157–84.

12

Self-development, individuation, and culture: A psychoanalytic search G€ uler Okman Fi¸sek

Ci
¸ gdem is a valued colleague and friend. More importantly, she is an older sister and guide, especially in our joint attempts to help further the development of psychology in Turkey over the years. A sense of responsibility and obligation, to which we refer as “being girl scouts”, has led to adventures in many contexts, even to the extent of being summoned by the police during the early days of the 1980 coup. Beyond that relationship, I have gained knowledge and courage from Ci
¸ gdem’s seminal ideas in pursuing my own interest in the interface of culture, family, and the self.

This chapter attempts to explore the topic of early self-development, especially with regards to the process of individuation from a comparative psychoanalytic perspective. Among the many points regarding the construal of self that Ci
¸ gdem Ka
gıt¸cıba¸sı makes in her recent articles, one speaks directly to the topic of this chapter. Evaluating the general approach of cross-cultural psychology to different construals of self, she writes that, “this approach falls short of addressing questions regarding how these different types of selves emerge” (2005: 410). Stating that these questions require a developmental perspective she goes on to discuss the issue in the context of family and socio-cultural development. Ka
gıt¸cıba¸sı’s constructs of “separate-relational” selves (1996a, 1996b) find echoes in constructs such as “independent-interdependent” (Markus and Kitayama 1991), “individualistic-collectivistic” (Triandis et al. 1988), “idiocentric-sociocentric” (Shweder and Bourne 1984), and so forth. These are social psychological or anthropological terms, from disciplines that have traditionally paid the most attention to culture. While clinical psychology has lagged behind in this respect, there are similar examples, such as Landrine’s (1992) “referential-indexical” selves or Roland’s (1988, 1996, unpublished manuscript 2005) “individualizedfamilial” selves. The polarities given above are only a sample. The literature abounds in such terms, which have all been found to have some validity, so that we can assume they are referring to a meaningful difference, whatever 194

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the actual words used to describe it. Therefore it is necessary for a crossculturally meaningful psychoanalytic perspective to allow for a way to understand these differences. Further, since an abiding hallmark of a psychoanalytic perspective is a developmental viewpoint (Fonagy and Target 2003), we might usefully ask how these differences come about. How does psychoanalysis depict the development of the individuated self and how might culture be construed to affect this process? Here individuation is used in the sense of the child becoming his or her own person. For cross-cultural developmental and social psychological inquiry, as explored by Ka
gıtc¸ ıba¸sı and others, this process is one of child-rearing and socialization in different contexts, such that a particular kind of socio-cultural context and family fosters a particular kind of personality structure. A psychoanalytic inquiry has to involve a more specifically micro-level search into socialization, involving intrapsychic and intersubjective processes. As is the case with other psychological theories that are not informed by a culturally comparative sensibility, the paradigmatic psychoanalytic approach to self-development has suffered from an individualistic bias (Roland 1996). It is important to recognize this bias, especially by those working in so-called non-western contexts, for practical as well as theoretical reasons. Most theories of personality, psychopathology, and psychotherapy used widely in the world are derived from western sources, addressing issues of those contexts. However, when the issue is one of understanding local phenomena and developing interventions on the basis of that understanding, misinterpretations can arise (Fi¸sek and Ka
gıt¸cıba¸sı 1999). It is important that theoreticians and clinicians question claims of universal applicability, and check to see how much the “universal” corresponds to the “local” at all systemic levels of inquiry. In the following pages, a description of the paradigmatic psychoanalytic depiction of self-development in the infant will be followed by a brief look at contemporary relational psychoanalytic approaches to selfdevelopment. Next, a contrasting depiction of eastern self-development will be presented. Finally, the possibilities offered by infancy research and neuroscience will be touched upon as offering a new basis for understanding individuation and self-development in a more inclusive fashion. Psychoanalysis and self-development Developmental theory has been a cornerstone of psychoanalytic thinking from its Freudian inception. While different psychoanalytic schools have emphasized different features, the predominant account of early development describes the development of a bounded, cohesive, integrated,

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and separate sense of self. Edith Jacobson’s 1964 account of this process is one of the most articulate expositions of the theory, and resonates in most psychoanalytical accounts today. According to Jacobson, initial undifferentiated “psychophysiological energy” (p. 13) differentiates into libido and aggression partly based on experiences of gratification and frustration by the mother. These drives serve to link memory traces of pleasure and unpleasure with newly developing mental representations of self and object (mother). However these images are very labile at first and the infant’s initial experience of self is incomplete and undifferentiated from its experience of mother. “The child’s separation from the mother and the resulting process of individuation seem . . . essential for identity formation . . . . [The infant has to] assert himself – if necessary by fighting – in the service of his individual freedom” (p. 30–31, italics added). To accomplish this task the infant tends to “turn aggression towards the frustrating objects and libido toward the self ” (p. 56). Thus, while libido is functional in integrating images of self and other, frustration “within normal bounds, reinforces in principle the process of discovery and distinction of objects and self ” (p. 55). “Not only the loving but also the hostile components . . . enable the child to develop his feelings of identity” ( p. 61). Over time, “his aggressive, narcissistic expansion and independent functioning” (p. 50) are also aided by developing envies, competitions, and rivalries within the family and reaches a climax during the oedipal stage. With increasingly stable processes of differentiation comes the achievement of ego integration. Jacobson’s thesis, with its blend of organismic drive and internalized mental representations, finds explicit or implicit acceptance in most psychoanalytic accounts. Mahler’s (Mahler et al. 1975) theory of separation-individuation can be seen as an elaboration of this thesis, and has served as the prototypic depiction of early childhood self-development for most twentieth-century psychoanalytic thinking. Contemporary psychoanalytic conceptualizations Many psychoanalytic thinkers have been dissatisfied with this account of the development of the self as the development of stable interpersonal differentiation and personal integration. While it mentions mutuality, this account prioritizes individuality and separation in such a way that the individual is left with the ever-present need to balance the dialectic of libido and aggression, or love and hate, autonomy and relatedness throughout life (e.g., Guisinger and Blatt 1994). After all, this was Freud’s

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depiction of man’s tragic dilemma of reconciling his asocial drives and the demands of society. Reaction to this individualistic ideological sensibility has a history as long as that of psychoanalysis, and has culminated in a contemporary approach called relational psychoanalysis (Ghent 1992). This approach states that, “relations with others constitute the fundamental building blocks of mental life” (Greenberg and Mitchell 1983: 31). A foremost figure leading up to this approach has been Sullivan (1950/1964), who sees personal individuality as an “illusion.” There are a number of contemporary relational approaches with differing emphases but they can all be subsumed under the umbrella term of “two-person psychologies,” as opposed to classic “one-person psychology.” However, a close inspection of relational theories still raises the question of whether their underlying ideology is different from the classical view. The following are just a few examples. Kohut’s (1977) self-psychology privileges the cohesive self; Bowlby’s (1969) attachment theory sees autonomy as the outcome of secure attachment. The dialectic of individuality and relatedness is a continuing theme, as seen in Blatt and Blass’s (1992) constructs of relatedness and self-definition. In an attempt to maintain “the self as a centre of activity and agency,” Ghent (1992: xxi) also proposes “two basic opposing motivational thrusts” – an expansive, growth oriented one and a conservative, status-quo oriented one – and comes down squarely on the side of individual growth in stating that the psychoanalysts are “the midwives to this thrust.” Modell (1993) agrees that the individual needs to be related, as well as needing to maintain a sense of private individual selfhood. For him, a purely social self carries the risk of being lost under the influence of external forces; a purely private self threatens survival. However, he sees this dichotomy as a central dilemma of western philosophical tradition, which is best exemplified in the Hegelian dialectic of “the master and the slave” (p. 98); there can be no master without a slave and no slave without a master. Thus my existence depends on witnessing by the other, I have to define myself in reference to the other, but in order to be myself, I have to reject the other by creating an externality. This situation creates a paradox; the assertion of one’s individuality/autonomy is dependent on the existence of the other, which nevertheless has to be negated (Benjamin 1998). It is interesting how closely this dilemma resembles the developmental notions of Jacobson and her followers, and as such opens up the whole question of the universality of those descriptions.

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Modell offers a suggestion for resolving this paradox by conceptualizing a multi-leveled sense of self, with a social self open to the outside, on the one hand, and a private self, oriented to the inside and maintaining coherence and continuity, on the other. In mutuality, especially “in the affective sphere there is no boundary to the self . . . . [But] . . . with merging there comes a counterreaction in which one asserts one’s individuality. The establishment of private space is essential for psychic survival” (Modell 1993: 115). Individuality is still central. Culture and the psychoanalytic self Alan Roland (1988, 1996, unpublished manuscript 2005) is one of the few western psychoanalysts who have attempted to deal with the issue of different construals of self from a psychoanalytic perspective. His research is based on his work with Indians, Japanese, and other Asians. He recommends using psychoanalytic constructs by decontextualizing them from western cultural norms and recontextualizing them so that “new contents and norms of each category are then integrated with cultural, social, and historical contexts of that culture” (Roland 1996: 18). He describes an eastern “familial self ” in contrast to a western “individualized self,” structuralized in relation to the emotional patterning of interpersonal relations in their respective contexts. Familial self-construal develops in the context of highly affectively laden relationships and is an “inner organization that enables men and women to function well within the hierarchic intimacy relations of the extended family, community and other groups” (Roland 1988: 7). The outer ego boundary is permeable, with an experiential sense of weself and a strong “emotional interdependence,” which Roland terms “symbiosis-reciprocity.” More formal hierarchic relations are experienced within the parameters of “structural hierarchy” referring to rolebased differentiation. Thus the familial self is an umbrella construct that includes intrapsychic and interpersonal features. However the familial self also includes a sense of “private self,” with an impermeable inner ego boundary that provides the person with an inner psychological space of unshared feelings, fantasies, and impulses. Further, social change and multicultural exposure lead to the development of a bicultural or “expanding self” that becomes an added feature of the familial self. This construal connotes a multiple, contextual layering of self-experience. In contrast, the western individualized self refers to “an inner psychological organization . . . enabling [people] to function in a. . . . society where considerable autonomy is granted if not imposed on the individual . . . [where the individual has to develop] contractual, egalitarian

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relations” without losing his sense of individuality (p. 8). A firm outer ego boundary is seen as a must to protect a unitary, cohesive, and integrated identity that is differentiated from the intimate context while still being related. How is the development of the familial self described in comparison to that of the individualized self? Roland describes the Indian mother– infant relationship as being “tremendously physically and emotionally gratifying to the infant and young child” (p. 231). The mother “will handle her infant’s . . . frustrations . . . by instant gratification, assisting and closely protecting the toddler whenever possible” (p. 232). This prolonged maternal matrix fosters a sense of self which is much more inclusive of we-ness, with a closer interconnection of images of self and other; outer ego boundaries that remain much more permeable to constant affective exchanges and emotional connectedness with others. “Simultaneously there is a subtle inhibition of too great self–other differentiation and separation through the amount of gratification and closeness . . . . This decidedly contrasts with the ‘optimal’ frustrations of the Western child” (p. 233). The Japanese case, according to Roland, shows even more emphasis on a “prolonged symbiotic mothering . . . a high degree of maternal empathy with the child’s inner feelings” (p. 275). Roland’s arguments are mostly derived from two Asian cultures but it would seem that these features are similarly experienced in most nonwestern cultures in their broad outlines if not in the particular details (Roland 1996, unpublished manuscript 2005). Ka
gıtc¸ ıba¸sı (2005) also explicitly states that, “the majority world” outside of the Euro-American west, is relational. An exploration of Roland’s ideas in a series of studies in a Turkish context indicated that the constructs of familial self, symbiosis-reciprocity, and structural hierarchy were applicable to the self experience of young adults (Fi¸sek 2002, 2003). Briefly, it was found that highly affect-laden mental representations of self-with-mother were consonant with the construct of symbiosis-reciprocity; while a structural hierarchy description was found to apply to representations of self-withfather. A sense of private self seemed to reflect an inner world of intensely personal issues. It was further found that multicultural exposure led to the development of an expanding self, resulting in a layering of selfstructure. In short, individuation for the western infant is seen largely as a process in which he or she has to assert themself in achieving a separate sense of self while still being able to experience mutuality. The eastern infant experiences no need to push against a sense of we-self since separation is not internally achieved but externally offered through normative expectations, social requirements, and socially defined structural

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givens such as gender and age. Thus the child’s sense of self is not a unitary, bounded sense but a sense that is variable and contextual, depending on hierarchic intimacy relations, and thus individuated. In intimate relations, a permeable, relational self based on symbiosisreciprocity comes to the fore, but in more distant, formal relations, a self based on structural hierarchy appears dominant. It goes without saying that individuation as aided by relationships within the whole family is certainly present in western psychoanalytic accounts (e.g., Benjamin 1998; Jacobson 1964), but the emphasis is not nearly as salient as in the East. New findings, new constructions The counterpoint of the symbiosis-reciprocity of the East to the separation-individuation of the West leaves us with a dilemma. If we accept that individuation derives from optimal frustration and resulting aggression, as does classical psychoanalytic theory, then we would have to accept that “over gratification” would lead to an undeveloped or underdeveloped self, “delaying ego and superego development and the normal process of individuation” (Jacobson 1964: 56). Accepting the relational view, while legitimizing relatedness, would not result in a significantly different outcome. Accepting a relativistic view that East and West are fundamentally different would undermine efforts to develop a psychoanalytic comparative analysis, or for that matter any kind of comparative analysis. Further, there is the danger that dichotomies may carry within them hidden hierarchies so that separate but equal can easily become separate and unequal in value (Fi¸sek 2001; Hare-Mustin and Marecek 1988). Thus the need for a neutrally comparative psychoanalysis remains. If we accept both eastern and western versions of individuation as valid descriptions, we then need to see that individuation can develop through a number of trajectories in varying contexts, and result in different experiences of self. We need some empirical guidelines to help us begin to delineate the parameters of such varying trajectories. Today, we have available some new perspectives that can provide us with new, more inclusive and comprehensive frameworks within which to approach the problem of individuation and self-development. I will mention two promising areas, infancy research and neuroscience. One of the most influential representatives of psychodynamic infancy research, Daniel Stern (1985, 1995), states unequivocally that Mahler’s separation/individuation thesis does not fit empirical findings. Based on extensive research, he claims that the infant is aware of his/her separation from his/her mother at a bodily level from birth, and early on develops a bodily, experiential sense of a “core self ” and “core other” (mother) and

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goes on to build a sense of being separate-but-with-the-other (Stern 1985). Such experiences gradually lead to the development of mental representations of self-in-relationship-with-other; affectively infused interactive representations bind self and other to each other. In short, the infant is both separate and connected from day one. Stern’s assertions on the psychological level find support from the theory of Neural Darwinism put forth by Gerald Edelman (2004), a neurobiologist, who states that the individual has evolved separate neural systems to perceive him or herself versus the environment. Selfperception and the sense of self is accomplished through an internally, bodily oriented neural system, while a separate sensory and perceptual system provides an awareness of non-self, environmental phenomena. The bodily oriented self system serves to maintain the internal homeostasis necessary for survival, while the non-self system deals with sensory inputs from the outside world. Edelman says that both these systems are present in the newborn and have evolutionary importance; the individual survives through discriminating whether what they perceive originates from inside their body or from the outside world and responding accordingly. Edelman ties this discriminatory ability to an evolutionary concept he calls “value systems” (2004), which refers to the assessment of new experiences on the basis of their match with past experience. New external perceptual input is compared with memories of similar past experiences in terms of its implications for the self and acquires meaning on that basis. Thus value refers to a motivational system that ultimately determines the meaning of experience for the individual. The interaction of value and new input results in a competition between neuronal networks; those networks that are most functional for the survival of the organism attain permanence and aid in the adaptation of the organism to its environment. Edelman calls this “neuronal group selection.” In other words, the interaction of the organismic values of the self system and the external stimulus inputs of the non-self system forms the basis of the individual’s personal meaning world as well as reflecting the constraints of the external environment, including culture. Based on meticulous research with mother–infant dyads, Beatrice Beebe and Frank Lachmann (2002) have developed a “dyadic systems model” that fits well with Edelman’s neurobiological theories, while remaining within the psychoanalytic fold. Instead of using static terms like self and other, they situate the infant in an ongoing interactive process involving bidirectional coordination, which they conceptualize as self- and interactive regulation. “A subjectivity ‘of one’s own” (ibid.: 211) is organized out of inner as well as interactional processes: “Each person

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is always sensing and modulating her own state, while simultaneously sensing how she affects and is affected by her partner. What is in balance is the degree to which one can flexibly go back and forth, in foregroundbackground fashion, between both processes” (p. 224). The movement back and forth between self- and interactive regulation may potentially entail a “tilt” toward one process over the other, or individual differences in operating within different ranges on this continuum, thus leading to different “dominant organizing principles” (p. 223). However, they see references to individuality versus relatedness or mutuality as misnomers for their model: “Rather than seeing autonomy and relatedness as two separate poles we see both as simultaneously co-constructed. They operate in a foreground-background format . . . . [The behaviors described by these terms refer to] an emergent dyadic property reciprocally constructed by both partners” (p. 226). Further, while autonomy and relatedness are value laden terms, regulation is neutral in describing a process, not a normative content category. Modell’s (1993) construct of a multi-leveled self is based on the above findings, but nevertheless accords primacy to a private self. However it seems to me that the process views of theorists like Edelman, Stern, and Beebe and Lachmann go beyond a dialectic paradox of recognition and negation of one another’s subjectivity. I submit that the concept of bidirectional coordination opens up more inclusive possibilities for understanding self-development and individuation. How does culture enter into a process view of self-development? The research orientation represented by Stern and Beebe and Lachmann makes use of implicit and explicit memory constructs in understanding developmental processes. Children represent lived events by abstracting invariant features from specific memories to form a prototypic memory. In the interpersonal realm, these prototypes can be seen as the representations of interactions that are generalized (RIGs), schemas-ofbeing-with (Stern 1985, 1995) or patterns of expectancies constructed as presymbolic representations (Beebe and Lachmann 2002). These representations derive from interactions that go beyond conscious perception and involve a holistic psychobiological interaction between mother and child, and are registered in implicit memory (Beebe and Lachmann 2002; Schore 1994). These expectancies become updated over time but tend to retain the impact of accumulated experience. To the degree that cultural biases and norms inform interpersonal events, culturally coded relational experience can affect relational schemas

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at two levels, a macro-level and a micro-level. The macro-level refers to those prescriptions, rules, and expectations more or less explicitly and intentionally inculcated in the child by parents and other representatives of the culture: “what my mother taught me.” Examples are prescriptions for the expression of emotion and sex role stereotypes, which are more or less consciously processed in explicit, declarative memory, and may be intentionally challenged later. Experience at the micro-level refers to the moment-to-moment interactive processes between the infant and the mothering figure, possibly involving varying ranges of self and interactive regulation in different cultural contexts. As mother’s coordination emphasizes one or the other end of the regulatory continuum, and as the child responds to mother’s “tilt” with internal and interactive regulatory efforts, the emerging dominant organizational principle may thus bear the imprint of cultural codes: “how my mother was with me and I with her.” The mostly preverbal, unconscious patterns of expectancies derived from these experiences assume the naturalness of fact; the way things are and ought to be in a given culture (Landrine 1992). Thinking in Edelman’s terms, if culture affects the external inputs which play a role in the construction of mental representations early on, then culture may well play a role in neuronal group selection. Thus, those memories of being-with-mother or styles of self- and interactive regulation that are most functional for the baby’s survival in a particular context may be the ones that are coded in implicit memory or generalized schemas-of-being-with (Stern 1995). Being functional refers to ensuring the baby’s successful adaptation to the constraints of the external environment (read culture) while maintaining internal homeostasis. It can be argued that these admittedly speculative explanations find support in one area of cross-cultural research, that of attachment styles or classifications. In their research, Beebe and Lachmann (2002) found that behaviors in the midrange coordination of interactive regulation predicted secure attachment, while scores outside the midrange, i.e., tilts, predicted insecure forms of attachment. However eastern samples, including Turkish, tend to be overrepresented on the ambivalent/preoccupied end of attachment classifications, termed insecure by western norms (e.g., Schmitt et al. 2004; S€ umer and G€ ung€ or 1999). These findings clearly necessitate a more inclusive paradigm that does not privilege the norms of one culture over the other. I think that a neutral way of understanding these findings may be provided by the process view of interactive regulation, in exploring how different cultural modes of coordination may make different regulatory tilts normative.

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Conclusion To summarize, in contrasting attempts to describe individuation and self-development, a western discourse of individualism is exemplified by the concept of separation-individuation, while an eastern discourse of relatedness is exemplified by the concept of symbiosis-reciprocity. While both discourses allow room for a private sense of self, they privilege different aspects of selfhood. The recognition that psychological constructs tend to reflect cultural ideologies imposes an important requirement on psychologists with a cross-cultural sensibility: to be informed of the ideological underpinnings of theories, and to pass the assumptions based on ideologies through an empirical sieve. It would seem that a more inclusive discourse of individuation and self-development, incorporating ideas from infancy research, cognitive, and biological neuroscience might be useful, especially in describing how representations of self and other develop, become ingrained through memorial processes, and the processes by which culture impinges on development. In using process terms rather than norm-bound content terms; we may be able to depict different ways in which people experience their own agenda and agency as emerging from their interrelationship with the other. We may then be able to abandon bipolar opposites and search for a new discourse or construction that can accommodate different findings. The implication of the above material is this: no matter what kind of self one is said to develop, or what kind of regulatory tilt one learns to prefer, the psychobiological processes are the same. Then cultural differences have to do with the same universal biopsychosocial processes where particular tilts or coordinative preferences in self- and interactive regulation have developed in accordance with the socio-historical contexts of particular cultures. references B. Beebe and F. M. Lachmann, Infant Research and Adult Treatment (Hillsdale, NJ: Analytic Press, 2002). J. Benjamin, Shadow of the Other (New York: Routledge, 1998). S. J. Blatt and R. B. Blass, “Relatedness and self-definition: Two primary dimensions in personality development, psychopathology, and psychotherapy,” in J. W. Barron, M. N. Eagle, and D. L. Wolitsky (eds.), Interface of Psychoanalysis and Psychology (Washington, DC: American Psychological Association, 1992), pp. 399–428. B. Bowlby, Attachment and Loss. Volume 1 (New York: Basic Books, 1969). G. M. Edelman, Wider than the Sky (New Haven, CT: Yale University Press, 2004).

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G. O. Fi¸sek, “Cultural context: migration and health risks: A multilevel analysis,” in P. Marschalck and K. H. Wiedl (eds.), Migration und Krankheit, IMIS Schriften 10 (Osnabr€ uck: Univeristy of Osnabr€ uck Publications, 2001, pp. 113–22. G. O. Fi¸sek, “Bende bir ben var ailemden i¸ceri [There is an I in me inside of my family],” invited address presented at the XII National Congress of Psychology, Ankara, Turkey, 2002. G. O. Fi¸sek, “The traditional self and family in flux: Opportunities and risks engendered by change,” invited conference in seminar on “Self and family in flux” at the Transcultural Center, Stockholm, Sweden, 2003. G. O. Fi¸sek and C. ¸ Ka
gıt¸cıba¸sı, “Multiculturalism and psychotherapy: The Turkish case,” in P. Pedersen (ed.), Multiculturalism as a Fourth Force (Philadelphia, PA: Taylor and Francis, 1999), pp. 75–92. P. Fonagy and M. Target, Psychoanalytic Theories (London: Whurr Publishers, 2003). E. Ghent, “Foreword,” in N. J. Skolnick and S. C. Warshaw (eds.), Relational Perspectives in Psychoanalysis (Hillsdale, NJ: Analytic Press, 1992), pp. xi–xxix. J. Greenberg and S. A. Mitchell, Object Relations in Psychoanalytic Theory (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1983). S. Guisinger and S. J. Blatt, “Individuality and relatedness,” American Psychologist, 49 (1994), 104–11. R. T. Hare-Mustin and J. Marecek, “The meaning of difference,” American Psychologist, 43 (1988), 455–64. E. Jacobson, The Self and the Object World (New York: International Universities Press, 1964). C. ¸ Ka
gıtc¸ ıba¸sı, “The autonomous-relational self: A new synthesis,” European Psychologist, 1 (1996a), 180–86. C. ¸ Ka
gıtc¸ ıba¸sı, Family and Human Development across Cultures (Hillsdale, NJ: Lawrence Erlbaum, 1996b). C. ¸ Ka
gıt¸cıba¸sı, “Autonomy and relatedness in cultural context: Implications for self and family,” Journal of Cross-Cultural Psychology, 20 (2005), 1–20. H. Kohut, The Restoration of the Self (New York: International Universities Press, 1977). H. Landrine, “Clinical implications of cultural difference: The referential versus indexical self,” Clinical Psychology Review, 12 (1992), 401–15. M. S. Mahler, F. Pine, and A. Bergman, The Psychological Birth of the Human Infant (New York: Basic Books, 1975). H. R. Markus and S. Kitayama, “Culture and the self: Implications for cognition, emotion and motivation,” Psychological Review, 98 (1991), 224–53. A. H. Modell, The Private Self (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1993). A. Roland, In Search of Self in India and Japan (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1988). A. Roland, Cultural Pluralism and Psychoanalysis (New York: Routledge, 1996). D. P. Schmitt, L. Alcalay, M. Allensworth, J. Allik, L. Ault, I. Austers et al., “Patterns and universals of adult romantic attachment across 62 cultural regions: Are models of self and of other pancultural constructs?,” Journal of Cross-Cultural Psychology, 35 (2004), 367–402.

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A. N. Schore, Affect Regulation and the Origin of the Self: The Neurobiology of Emotional Development (Hillsdale, NJ: Lawrence Erlbaum, 1994). R. A. Shweder and E. J. Bourne, “Does the concept of the person vary crossculturally?,” in R. A. Shweder and R. A. LeVine (eds.), Culture Theory: Essays on Mind, Self and Emotion (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1984), pp. 158–99. D. N. Stern, The Interpersonal World of the Infant (New York: Basic Books, 1985). D. N. Stern, The Motherhood Constellation: A Unifying View of Parent–infant Psychotherapy (New York: Basic Books, 1995). H. S. Sullivan, “The illusion of personal individuality,” Psychiatry, 13 (1950/1964), 317–32. N. S€ umer and D. G€ ung€ or, “Psychometric evaluation of adult attachment measures on Turkish samples and a cross-cultural comparison,” Turkish Journal of Psychology, 14 (1999), 71–106. H. C. Triandis, R. Bontempo, and M. J. Villareal, “Individualism and collectivism: Cross-cultural perspectives on self–ingroup relationships,” Journal of Personality and Social Psychology, 54 (1988), 323–38.

IV

Social change, family, and gender

13

One or two pathways to modernity? A systematic comparison of Ka
gıtc¸ ıba¸sı’s Model of Family Change and the Model of the Second Demographic Transition Bernhard Nauck

I got to know Ci
¸ gdem Ka
gıtc¸ ıba¸sı on my first visit to Turkey in 1985, when trying to validate my empirical research on Turkish immigrant families in Germany in discussions with Turkish social scientists. This visit introduced me to the concept value of children, which thereafter became most influential to my academic work, both at the theoretical level, as it fitted well into modern sociological action theory and multilevel approaches, and in empirical research, as Ci
¸ gdem Ka
gıt¸cıba¸sı’s analyses were always at the interface of psychology and social sciences. During several encounters thereafter on various occasions, I felt much encouraged to take the initiative for a replication of the Value of Children (VOC) studies twenty five years later, which was the baseline for the following thoughts. I will always admire Ci
¸ gdem Ka
gıt¸cıba¸sı for her ability to combine sharp analytical thinking with a humanitarian engagement for a civic society.

Introduction Theorizing about the interrelationship between macro-social change and family structure has been a major feature of the various disciplines of the social sciences from their very beginning. In many cases, “family” was seen as the social group where the impact of social change could be understood in its greatest depth (Thornton 2005). Accordingly, the history of social sciences is full of examples of sequential models of social change and its consequences on family and kinship. In sociology, Emile Durkheim (1892/1978) exemplified his ideas about the differences between “modern” functionally differentiated societies and “pre-modern” societies in referring to different modes of solidarity in family and kinship systems (from “mechanical” to “organic” solidarity). Durkheim’s ideas became most influential scientifically as an integral part of the structuralfunctionalist sociology of Parsons. In The Social System, Parsons (1951) 209

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develops a frame of reference in which culture is understood as structured belief systems, systems of expressive symbolism, and value orientation that are systematically connected to the other elements of his theory of action, namely, the personality system and the social system. This frame of reference allowed relating the “family” systematically to other social systems, which resulted in Parsons’s (1943) diagnosis of the nuclear family as the best adapted family form for “modern” (that is, functionally differentiated, work and achievement oriented, mobile) societies. It also set the ground for cross-cultural and historical comparative family research. As such, the framework already analytically differentiated individualism versus collectivism as fundamental orientations of action which later became the most prominent categories for typified descriptions of individuals as well as societies in cross-cultural psychology (Hofstede 1980; Kim et al. 1994) – but without mentioning their intellectual origins. This modernization approach in the framework of structural-functionalism guided many of the pioneering works in developmental sociology, including Lerner’s (1958) work on the modernization of the Middle East. In cross-cultural family research, the analyses of Goode (1963, 1993) became the most prominent. Goode provided rich empirical material for his thesis that, as industrialization proceeds, family systems throughout the world are moving toward a conjugal family model, a bi-lineal kinship system, an autonomous mateselection practice based on personal affection, and a more egalitarian power structure between spouses and generations. Accordingly, he predicts that the more societies are included in this modernization process, driven by industrialization, urbanization, formal education, and affluence, the more the converging family structure will develop worldwide. Thus, his arguments are solely based on the causal effects of structural changes in the respective societies, whereas cultural diffusion, i.e., the spread of ideas, values, and preferences, is considered negligible. This structure-functional approach to comparative family research can be seen as the end of a development that began in the nineteenth century when large-scale theories about the evolutionary change of families were developed. These were all based on multi-sequential models, but had in common the assumption of a uni-lineal development. This perspective soon became discredited, mainly because of its ideological components when it was practically applied in policy-making or educational programs. Uni-lineal modernization then becomes a mere justification for the cultural imperialism of the most “modernized” societies, and the predictions of modernization theory become a self-fulfilling prophecy. Especially the newly emerging generations of scholars from “less modernized” societies actively took part in this criticism of classical

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modernization theories, both for their more than obvious theoretical deficiencies, but even more for the practical aim of finding solutions for the urgent social problems of their own societies that differed from those suggested by modernization theory. The most rigorous examination of this paradigm was undertaken by Thornton (2005), for both its theoretical and normative implications. He demonstrates that what he calls the “developmental paradigm” has already been deeply rooted in European social philosophy for many centuries and has been most influential in the historical interpretation of family development. However, as for the theoretical assumptions, empirical evidence is not predominantly based on time series for the respective societies but on a method, which Thornton calls “reading history sideways,” i.e., taking cross-sectional examples from all over the world and interpreting them as stages in the universal development of families in the history of mankind. He provides rich evidence indicating that despite their methodological fallacy the theories formulated by earlier generations of scholars to explain family change remain predominant as explanations today. He calls the normative dimension “developmental idealism,” summarized in four propositions: (1) modern society is good and attainable; (2) the modern family is good and attainable; (3) the modern family is a cause as well as an effect of a modern society; and (4) individuals have a right to be free and equal, with social relationships based on consent. (Thornton 2005: 8)

The propositions of developmental idealism have been disseminated around the world and have become exceptionally powerful forces for changing family lives. This becomes more than obvious if one considers today’s national constitutions or international conventions: with only minor exceptions, they refer explicitly to the propositions of developmental idealism. Thornton (p. 239) hypothesizes that the worldwide diffusion of these ideas will result in a path-dependent mixing of indigenous family forms and developmental idealism into hybrid family systems, which will result in increased diversity of family systems and beliefs across geographical and cultural boundaries. That is, cultural diffusion is considered to be the most influential mechanism of family change and to operate independent of structural effects. In recent times, two new models of family change have become prominent with their attempts to overcome the deficiencies of classical modernization theory. One has its theoretical background in cross-cultural psychology and was developed by Ci
¸ gdem Ka
gıt¸cıba¸sı as a Model of Family Change. The other has its background in social demography and was developed by Dirk van de Kaa and Ron Lesthaeghe and deals

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with the Second Demographic Transition. Given the scientific importance of the subject, it may be well worthwhile to compare these models systematically. The comparison will concentrate on the basic assumptions of the two models’ conceptualization of the mechanisms of family change and their empirical implications. Ka
gıtc¸ ıba¸sı’s Model of Family Change Ci
¸ gdem Ka
gıtc¸ ıba¸sı developed her Model of Family Change (MFC) over a time span of twenty years, with partial revisions and refinements. Originally, it was developed to achieve a better understanding of the Turkish data within the 1975 international comparative Value of Children (VOC) study in nine countries (Ka
gıtc¸ ıba¸sı 1982). The MFC (within Turkey) developed to explain the Turkish data describes two patterns of family systems, each embedded in a specific socio-ecological context (Ka
gıt¸cıba¸sı 1985: 161): The first family pattern is embedded in a rural context, structured by an extended patrilineal family system, a net-wealth flow from children to parents (Caldwell 1982), and high fertility, and it implies an interaction pattern characterized by low status of women, patrilineal kinship ties, intergenerational economic interdependence, and strong control of the offspring. The second family pattern is embedded in an urban context, structured as a “functionally complex” nuclear family system, a net-wealth flow from parents to children, and low fertility, and it implies an interaction pattern characterized by an increased status of (better educated) women, close emotional ties between spouses, intergenerational emotional interdependence, and decreased obedience orientation in childrearing. It is already obvious from the characterization of the two ideal-types of family patterns that this first explanatory attempt in many ways follows the developmental paradigm and classical modernization theory. This is even more so if one considers the explanation of the transition from the first to the second pattern and, as in modernization theory, it is taken for granted that a reversed transition is “impossible”: the mechanisms of “social change and development” (Ka
gıt¸cıba¸sı 1985: 159) are seen in the process of urbanization and access to formal education and interpreted in the language of the developmental paradigm: For example in response to changing objective environmental conditions from rural to urban lifestyles or from farming to organized labor both the actual material contribution of children decreases, and also less economic value is attributed to them by parents. Together with this . . . often there is a shift in the role of the

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woman in the family, vis-a-vis both her child and her husband; this change again being triggered both from within the family . . . and from the environment – access to higher education and alternative roles to motherhood.

Ka
gıtc¸ ıba¸sı (p. 156) also uses the method of “reading history sideways” for the empirical underpinning of her developmental arguments, when interpreting the cross-sectional data from different parts of Turkey (“least developed,” “medium developed,” “developed,” and “Metropolitan” areas) as an indication of social change. Thus, it would have been easy to summarize the MFC as a special case of general classical modernization theory, providing additional insights into this cumulative research program in specifying modernization theory for VOC, fertility, and intergenerational relationships in the life course. This would have already been a substantial merit; however, Ka
gıt¸cıba¸sı ends her paper stating that, In countries like Turkey, familial and social interactions are characterized by close interpersonal ties and interdependence. Even through family nucleation, this type of human interaction continues, penetrating into the “modern” family pattern . . . what is claimed here is that a family culture of relatedness and interdependence is not incompatible with socio-economic development . . . . The model proposed here calls for multidirectional change and multiple end points through socio-economic development, depending, at least partially, on the cultural base from which change took place. (Ka
gıt¸cıba¸sı 1985: 162f.)

These ideas about a “different” pathway to family change, based on the interactions between structural change and cultural baseline, have been elaborated in subsequent papers (Ka
gıtc¸ ıba¸sı 1990, 1996, 2002, 2005) and have led to an extended MFC. It is based on a dimensional distinction between “agency” (a bipolar variable with the end-points “autonomy” [a] and “heteronomy” [b]) and “interpersonal distance” (a bipolar variable with the end-points “separation” [c] and “relatedness” [d]), which allows for the conclusion that autonomy is not necessarily bound to separation, but may well go together with relatedness. Accordingly, four ideal types of families are construed as a combination of the two dimensions, resulting in a family model of “independence” (a/c), “psychological interdependence” (a/d), “interdependence” (b/d), and “hierarchical neglect” (b/c), which remains an analytical category of no further importance for the development of the argument. The main structure of the general model has basically remained the same, with the structural properties of the social context being influential in relation to both family structure and intrafamilial interaction patterns (Ka
gıtc¸ ıba¸sı 1996: 77). The family models of (economic) interdependence and psychological interdependence are now contrasted

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in the model of independence, which is “the ideal-typical model for the family in the western, industrial, urban/suburban middle-class society with a culture of separateness (individualism)” (p. 82). However, in most of the descriptors for the ideal types, the model of emotional interdependence is located somewhere in-between the model of (economic) interdependence and of independence (rural – urbanization – urban; low affluence – increased affluence – affluence; functionally extended family structure – functionally complex family structure – nuclear family structure; patrilineal ties – nuclear and kin ties – nuclear family ties; high fertility – low fertility – low fertility; low women’s status – increased women’s status – high women’s status; son preference – decreased son preference – low son preference; authoritarian parenting – authoritative parenting – relatively permissive parenting; obedience/dependence orientation in child-rearing – dependence and autonomy orientation – autonomy/self-reliance orientation). This may suggest the conclusion that the model of psychological interdependence is just a temporary transition between the models of economic interdependence and independence. Instead, Ka
gıt¸cıba¸sı argues in her recent writings that the model of psychological interdependence is a “dialectical synthesis” of the two others, “involving material independence but psychological interdependence between generations” (Ka
gıtc¸ ıba¸sı 2005: 410). In terms of social change, she sees some indications for a “prediction of convergence towards the model of emotional interdependence” (Ka
gıt¸cıba¸sı 2002: 35), which implies that both the model of material interdependence and that of independence are baselines from which social change starts and results in decreased diversity – an idea not too unfamiliar to classical modernization theory. In these recent writings, the argumentation shifts considerably from a perspective of social development to a structural comparison of ideal types of family models. This avoids to some extent the shortcomings of the uni-lineal developmental paradigm, but at the high price of a reduction of empirical content: as for all ideal types, their empirical status remains unspecified, and their status as “ideals” may easily protect them against any empirical falsification. One may wonder, for example, about the extension of the model of independence: should one look for falsifiers only among the urban/suburban middle class families in western industrial societies, as the definition suggests; but, then, what about the rural lower classes? Are they already part of the culture of relatedness, or irrelevant for a test? Moreover, the dimensional description of ideal types itself is not a theory and thus cannot be empirically falsified. But they may be, and are used by Ka
gıtc¸ ıba¸sı as part of theoretical assumptions. As for family models as explanandum, the theoretical arguments may be reconstructed straight forward:

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 Two different family cultures have historically existed, namely, the culture of separateness/individualism “in the West,” and the culture of relatedness/collectivism “in the majority world.”  Changes in the economy and technology, and resulting increased affluence interact with the family culture of relatedness, as they unburden family ties from material interdependence, whereas the psychological interdependence remains stable and thus becomes more salient.  As material interdependence does not exist in the family culture of separateness, no interaction effect is to be expected.  Further increased affluence may lead to a future shift of the family culture of separateness towards the model of psychological interdependence, “as it better recognizes and satisfies autonomy and relatedness” as basic human needs (Ka
gıtc¸ ıba¸sı 2005: 413). Leaving aside the question of whether better satisfaction of human needs or wishful thinking is causal for social change, some central theoretical questions still remain. One question is related to the extension of the cultures of separateness and relatedness. One may agree with Ka
gıtc¸ ıba¸sı in locating the culture of separateness in those societies described as following the European marriage pattern (Hajnal 1965) observed in northwest Europe and its colonial branches in North America and Australia. This pattern is based on consensual marriage at comparably late ages, the principle of unity of household and marriage (which excludes extended family forms), and making the spousal relationship the primary unit of solidarity (instead of intergenerational relationships or the lineage). This affinal kinship regime is indeed in many ways the opposite of the descendence regime prevalent in most parts of the world, as it is based on monogamy, exogamy, neolocality (and thus: nuclear families), bi-linear descent, and kindred. Moreover, possible household extensions in favor of economic productivity and for old age security are based on (unmarried) servants and not on descendants or polygamy, which, together with bi-lineal descent and kindred, weakens the material interdependence between generations and within lineages (Nauck 2007). In fact, this so-called western European marriage pattern can be traced back historically and culturally to the Early Middle Ages, and possibly to the urban societies of ancient Greece (Goody 1990), and thus, by the way, to the territory which is now Turkey (Nauck and Klaus 2008). In any case, this pattern existed long before the industrialization of Europe, which refutes basic assumptions of classical modernization theory and emphasizes the independent effects of cultural path-dependency, and is homogeneous enough to subsume these societies under one pattern.

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However, can the “majority world” be subsumed in the same way under the other model of “material interdependence”? In fact, the institutional regulations of family patterns vary considerably in coping with the prevailing economic scarcity with regard to the rules of limiting marital choices, of household formation, of inheritance, of exchange between spouses, generations and lineages, and the allocation of control rights. As all these institutional regulations show their effectiveness only under specific contextual conditions, much of the explanatory power of cross-cultural explanations (and much of the knowledge about the variability of adaptive processes and the inventiveness of mankind) may be lost, if this “majority world” is treated as “all the same.” Moreover, there is a discrepancy between the model itself and its empirical underpinning: Ka
gıtc¸ ıba¸sı draws most of her empirical material from examples from the Middle East and east Asia, which may be due to the availability of systematic empirical research, but which also homogenizes the empirical reference. Also, Ka
gıt¸cıba¸sı primarily refers to intergenerational relationships and to socialization goals and practices, whereas intragenerational relationships remain relatively underdeveloped. One could easily argue that this originates from a cultural bias of the author, herself coming from a culture where gender segregation has been prevalent, intergenerational solidarity is more central than solidarity in the marital unit, and where a duo-focal family structure in extramarital networks exists (Olson 1982). More systematically speaking, one has to specify to which level of analysis the assertion of a “culture of relatedness” and the “culture of separateness” applies. Does a “culture of relatedness” imply that every individual is related to every other member in the intra- and intergenerational relationship within the family, in the kinship system, in the local community, and in the society equidistantly? In other words, are the exchange relationships all the same with regard to emotional closeness, mutual exchange of information, of goods, services and money, spatial proximity, and frequency of contact? As the answer to this rhetorical question is certainly “no,” the distinction of the “two cultures” loses much of its persuasiveness. This may be the reason for recent disappointments with the dichotomy of individualistic versus collectivistic cultures as a characteristic of entire societies or groups of societies. Instead, the respective exchange may be allocated in different relationships and at different levels. For example, the lack of intimacy in the husband–wife relationship may well be compensated in intergenerational relationships, and relatedness on the family and kinship level may well (and typically does) go together with the unwillingness to produce public goods beyond the kinship level. This embeddedness of

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family relationships in competing, substituting, and complementing relations has to be taken into account to avoid premature conclusions, and it opens up the arena for research on the organization of exchange relations within the family and between the family and social context under varying conditions.

Van de Kaa’s and Lesthaeghe’s model of the Second Demographic Transition While Ka
gıt¸cıba¸sı’s MFC was developed in direct reaction to classical modernization theory, Dirk van de Kaa and Ron Lesthaeghe’s model of the Second Demographic Transition (SDT) (Lesthaeghe 1983; Lesthaeghe and Surkyn 1988; Surkyn and Lesthaeghe 2004; Van de Kaa 1987) is a direct reaction to the model of the First Demographic Transition (FDT), which was developed in several subsequent versions (Notestein 1945) and has been a dominating paradigm in the understanding of the massive changes in mortality and fertility in the past three centuries. The FDT is a descriptive model of a multiple-step process of modernization and adaptation. The starting point is a relatively stable state of high mortality and high fertility: because of high infant mortality and a relatively stable mortality risk across all stages of the life span, high fertility does not result in a significant change in population size. The second phase is characterized by an initial increase in mean life expectancy without a simultaneous decrease in fertility, which results in a population increase. In the third phase, fertility is decreased to a comparable extent, so that in the fourth phase a new equilibrium is reached, based on low mortality and low fertility. As far as the first three stages are concerned, the model of the demographic transition provides an adequate description valid worldwide, because these transitions can be observed in an astonishing uniformity in practically all societies. The only difference seems to be in the historical period in which the process takes place in respective societies – thus elegantly fitting the developmental paradigm and classical modernization theory. However, the fact that practically no society faced a stabilization of fertility rates around the replacement level has resulted in an extensive debate in demography within which the model of a SDT became most prominent. What makes this model comparable to Ka
gıtc¸ ıba¸sı’s MFC is that it is based on general assumptions of social change, and that it sets the contrast to the model of FDT in claiming that fertility cannot be studied in isolation, “i.e. without regard to the fundamental changes in overall patterns of household formation and

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without the framework of changing preference structures regarding life styles” (Lesthaeghe and Surkyn 2008). Although both models focus on two patterns within social change, the first difference between Ka
gıtc¸ ıba¸sı’s MFC and the SDT is that the latter has its starting point not in the comparison of two cultures, but in the comparison of two processes, namely the FDT and the SDT:  The FDT is embedded in a culture of preoccupation with basic material needs, in strong regulations of family life by state and religion with ordered life course transitions and a widely accepted division of labor between husband and wife. It is characterized by a rise in the proportions of marrying and remarrying and a low divorce rate, a decline in marital and extramarital fertility, but low childlessness.  The SDT is embedded in a culture of “higher order needs” (Maslow 1954), a further secularization and decline in the role of the state in regulating family life, a de-regulation of life course transitions and multiple life style options and a rising symmetry in gender roles. It is characterized by a decrease in the proportions of marrying and remarrying, an increase in divorces and proportions of cohabiting, a further decline in overall fertility via postponement and an increase in the proportion of extra-marital fertility and of definitive childlessness. The model of the SDT implies – as does modernization theory and MFC – a fixed sequence, as the FDT precedes the SDT. The theoretical argument is that the FDT is linked to the “lower order needs” and thus is an “integral part of a development phase in which economic growth fosters material aspirations and improvements in material living conditions,” whereas the SDT is linked to the rise of the “higher order needs:” “Once basic material preoccupations, and particularly that of long term financial security are satisfied via welfare state provisions, more existential and expressive needs become articulated” (Lesthaeghe and Surkyn 2008). The argument about the sequential order in the fulfillment of basic needs not only parallels other conceptions of value changes in modern societies (Inglehart 1977, 1997), it also reads as an extension of classical modernization theory with regard to uni-lineal development. Moreover, even the resemblance of “lower order needs” to Ka
gıtc¸ ıba¸sı’s “material interdependence,” and “higher order needs” to the pattern of “independence” is striking – the major difference can be seen in the nonexistence of a “different” pathway, as described by Ka
gıtc¸ ıba¸sı’s pattern of psychological interdependence. Another difference between MFC and SDT concerns the respective explanations of social change, as the SDT’s explanation is almost

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entirely based on the assumption of cultural diffusion, whereas structural change plays only a minor (initial) role. Lesthaeghe and Surkyn (2008) argue that the FDT could “take off at just about any level of economic development, and in strictly rural as well as urban societies” and is “a worldwide phenomenon.” Similarly, they expect the SDT to become a subsequent matter of “global diffusion.” They identify three different components of this process of cultural diffusion, namely, (a) the contraceptive revolution which made fertility planning highly efficient and reliable and thus allowed the separation of sexual behavior from conception, thereby delaying parenthood, (b) the sexual revolution, which separated sexual behavior from marriage, and (c) the gender revolution, which gave women equal access to higher education and thus to the labor force, thereby separating, to some extent, parenthood from marriage. “This entire ideational reorientation, if not revolution, occurs during the peak years of economic growth, and shapes all aspects of the SDT” (Lesthaeghe and Surkyn 2008). Less clear is the theoretical status of these arguments, as they shift considerably between historical descriptions (especially of the situation in northwestern Europe), an array of trend hypotheses and forecasts, and (seldom) causal explanations. As for the latter, the status of the propositions of the sequence of the realization of basic needs is unclear. For example, if the economic situation in the affluent societies of the West should deteriorate over a longer period, say for more than one generation (which is quite possible in this day and age), would this imply that the entire trend of the SDT would be reversed towards “preoccupation with lower order needs,” including higher marriage rates and higher fertility? Or, are the various trends irreversible and develop their attractiveness irrespective of the economic and socio-structural conditions, as is claimed in other contexts. Both propositions are inherent in the argumentation, but they seem to be mutually exclusive. For a more comprehensive explanation of the mechanisms of social change, a clearer distinction between irreversible and reversible changes could be made: technological innovations such as the contraceptive revolution are most probably irreversible, whereas institutional regulations may be reversed according to a changing “Zeitgeist,” which the SDT recognizes by referring to “changes in the value system” (Van de Kaa 2004). A central problem, which the SDT model shares with many other approaches based on the mechanism of cultural diffusion (including Inglehart 1997 and Thornton 2005), is that the ideational changes to a large extent remain unexplained and are taken as model-exogeneous. That is, the STD model provides rich empirical evidence for value changes in a multitude of societies and relates them to trends in family

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patterns and fertility behavior, but it remains rather vague when it comes to the theoretical question of what the relevant antecedences for the ideational changes are. The sheer existence of this ideational complex, its invention, seems not explanation enough, since there are considerable differences in the acceptance of these ideas. This, in turn, cannot be explained by differential availability, as modern communication technologies allow for the instant spreading of information worldwide. Accordingly, the metaphor that the SDT could “be compared to a cyclone irresistibly sweeping south from Scandinavia and gradually engulfing the south of Europe before turning East and, most probably, to other parts of the developed world” (Van de Kaa 2001: 3487) shows both the persuasive description of a social trend, and the lack of its sociological explanation. Nevertheless, the underlying trend hypothesis of the SDT implies a straightforward prediction, namely, that with its diffusion, a worldwide convergence in family patterns and fertility behavior will emerge. This prediction of the SDT is explicitly different to that of Ka
gıt¸cıba¸sı’s MFC, which predicts a “second way” of modernization in the “majority world” of the “culture of relatedness,” just as it differs from the assumptions of Thornton (2005) about the increasing variability of family patterns as a consequence of the interactions between the diffusion of “developmental idealism” and local cultures. Thus, although based on a model of cultural diffusion and not on the effects of structural changes, the SDT’s predictions come pretty close to those of the classical modernization theory, to which explicit references are made by citing “Goode’s prediction of 1963, forecasting a rise in non-western ages at marriage” and in claiming “that more and more evidence pointing in the direction of the SDT will emerge in the next two decades in many non-western populations” (Lesthaeghe and Surkyn 2008). Empirical evidence, or: wait and see the late revenge of modernization theory? As both models come to different predictions about the development of family patterns and contain different empirical implications, one may ask for research evidence which supports one model and refutes the other. However, in this case, empirical evidence is difficult to establish for reasons inherent in the analysis of social change: if a model of social change is to be empirically tested in full, it would require longitudinal data not only on the aggregate level, but also on the individual level. Data from both levels is a prerequisite because social change can only be explained in terms of aggregated changes in individual behavior. Thus,

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any model must contain assumptions about individual behavioral changes, which then aggregate to changes on the societal level over time. As both models make assumptions and predictions for groups of societies, these longitudinal data should be obtainable in a comparable fashion at least for one society from these groups under consideration. It becomes quite obvious that such a full test is unrealistic in the current research situation, as replicative, representative surveys on family patterns which allow for the test of aggregated changes of individual behavior over the time span implied in both models, are – at least to my knowledge – not obtainable for cross-cultural comparative purposes. A minimal requirement in order to avoid “reading the history sideways” is the availability of comparable time series of aggregated behavioral and attitudinal measures. “There is still a shortage of reliable longitudinal data, especially for the more distant past. This leads some social scientists to use whatever information is available” (Thornton 2005: 233). In this regard, the situation is certainly better in the field of social demography, as it has a tradition in recording widely standardized figures based on register data about household composition, nuptuality, fertility, and mortality, which can be accumulated to time series of the basic demographic processes – at least for the last century in many cases. The situation is already worse for the measurement of changes in values, typically based on coordinated international social surveys, which are at best available for the last two decades and for selected countries only. The situation is worst when it comes to psychological measurements because the data that is available is a huge amount of incomparable and inconsistent findings from small scale studies with varying sampling biases – or even worse, results of comparisons from college students of psychology, as in much of cross-cultural research (Georgas et al. 2006). Hence, the amount of systematic empirical evidence is quite different for the two models. As the main purpose of MFC is to develop “idealtypes,” the focus is more on theoretical issues, especially with regard to relating family change to basic cultural orientations such as the “collectivism-individualism” issue and the conceptual independence of agency and interpersonal distance. A systematic empirical test of the MFC and its underlying theoretical assumptions is still pending, although the indirect references made to existing empirical research support many single aspects of the model. In contrast, the model of the SDT has emerged from the interpretation of findings from research in social demography, especially in north western Europe, and – in a second step – in southern Europe, eastern Europe, and the United States (Lesthaeghe and Neels 2002; Lesthaeghe and Surkyn 2008; Lesthaeghe

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and Willems 1999; Lesthaeghe et al. in press; Surkyn and Lesthaeghe 2004; Van de Kaa 2003). A combination of a multitude of time series data with a wide geographical distribution impressively shows the formation and the diffusion of the SDT in Europe and North America. Moreover, the results show that the pace of the diffusion process is set much more by cultural (language) than by structural factors (industrialization), which supports the central assumptions about the independent effect of ideational factors in the diffusion of the SDT. However, due to limitations in the data available, most empirical evidence of Lesthaeghe is based on aggregate correlations, i.e., association measures for regional/ national aggregates at specific historic periods, which are then interpreted as being the consequences of individual (!) selection and adaptation mechanisms in the life course – which somewhat assume the risk of ecological fallacy. The empirical evidence provided by Van de Kaa (2003) is entirely based on aggregate correlations on the national level, plotting the proportion of the population with post-modern orientations against selected demographic outcomes. The resulting associations, however, can only relate to the SDT in “reading history sideways.” But as these results refer entirely to societies of the “European marriage pattern,” they cannot be considered as a crucial test of the alternate predictions of MFC and SDT. Moreover, such a test should refer to the “majority world,” with its regime of patrilineal descent, and the institutional regulations related to it. It makes sense, at this point, to restrict such a test to societies in the Middle East and to the Asian Far East – not only because Ka
gıtc¸ ıba¸sı makes her empirical references to these societies, but also because societies that have undergone a major structural change towards industrialization and affluence exist in these regions. The simple research question with regard to MFC and SDT would then be, whether these societies retain their “culture of relatedness” within the family or whether they converge in showing the symptoms of the SDT. Such a crucial test can only be based on cumulative empirical research, for which only minor results are available at present, and in most cases these refer to demographic time series based on available register data. These register data only shed – at best – some light on the preconditions of changes in the relatedness of family members, i.e., structural solidarity. However, they do already provide an outlook on relevant social trends related to the predictions of MFC and SDT, if the most adequate measures are used:  As the creation of intergenerational relationship through fertility or the creation of a stable intragenerational relationship through household formation or marriage is one of the major features of structural

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solidarity. A (possibly indefinite) delay of household formation would be a valid indication for a crucial test. A decrease in the average fertility is not as valid, as all the paternal investments could be concentrated on few offspring or even on the child, as seems to be the case in many east Asian societies. An increase in the proportion of permanent childless individuals, however, would hardly be compatible with the assertion of a maintained “culture of relatedness.”  Another feature of structural solidarity is the stability of the respective relationships throughout the life course, i.e., whether they cease to exist due to mortality or become a non-relationship due to child or parent abandonment or to cessation of contact after divorce. Divorce rates are at best a very indirect proxy for structural solidarity in this respect, as they are neither informative about the stability of nonmarital cohabitation which may include the same range of social exchange as marriages, nor inform about the cessation of the relationship. Nevertheless, an increase in the proportion of divorces would hardly be compatible with the assertion of a maintained “culture of relatedness,” as would be an extensive or permanent delay of entering into a stable relationship (although this may, on the other side, indicate an especially strong parent–child-relationship). For these reasons, changes in the age at leaving the parental home or at marriage are also only proxies for the intended measurement. As far as such indicators are available for countries like Japan, Korea, Taiwan, Indonesia, and Turkey, which have undergone significant structural change during the last four decades and thus are most adequate for such a crucial test, the results are surprisingly consistent:  The age at first marriage of women has increased in all these countries, as has the proportion of never married women at the end of their fertile period. Results from the Turkish Demographic Health Survey show, for example, that the birth cohorts of Turkish women born in 1974 or later not only delay age of marriage significantly, but a much higher percentage of them will remain unmarried than the cohorts born before 1974. In Japan, the percentage of never married women aged 35–39 increased from 3 percent in 1950 to 14 percent in 2000, the percentage of men from 3 to 26 (Atoh 2008).  The proportion of marriages ending in divorce has also increased during this period. This applies even to Japan, which, in its process of industrialization during the first half of the twentieth century, had undergone a rapid decline in divorce from a stable high level in preindustrial times and thus was for a long time cited as a counterexample to classical modernization theory (Goode 1993).

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 The proportion of permanently childless women also seems to increase. Again, the results from the Turkish Demographic Health Survey show that the birth cohorts of Turkish women born after 1970 not only experience a significant delay in age at their first birth, but are also very unlikely to enter motherhood even at a later age. In Japan, the percentage of permanent childless women increased from 7 percent in 1970 to 18 percent in 2001 (Tanaka and Johnson 2005). The increase of permanent childlessness is a particularly strong challenge to the assertion of enduring maintenance of a family culture of relatedness in societies where the primary unit of solidarity is the lineage. These few indicators may be taken as first indications that the diffusion of the SDT does not stop at the frontiers of patrilineal societies. However, such a conclusion is very premature. First, the level differences between those societies for such demographic indicators are still significantly high, as are the differences at the beginning and the pace of demographic changes; moreover, different paces in family change – even if it goes in the same direction – could increase the differences between patrilineal collectivistic types of societies and bilinear affinal ones. Second, the available demographic indicators only cover what one may consider to be the less important aspects of intra- and intergenerational exchange and solidarity. Third, more adequate data may well detect theoretically important interaction effects between the diffusion of the ideational aspects of the SDT and local cultural settings, as envisioned by Thornton (2005). But it may also well be that the forefathers of modernization theory were more accurate in their predictions than was appreciated in more recent times. And as within their framework, in all the subsequent analyses of fertility and family change, the educational level of women transpired to be the most predictive single variable, this would not be a bad insight, after all. references M. Atoh, “The relevance of ideational changes to family transformation in postwar Japan,” in A. Thornton, R. Jayakody, and W. Axinn (eds.), International Family Change: Ideational Perspectives (Mahwah, NJ: Lawrence Erlbaum, 2008), pp. 223–50. J. C. Caldwell, The Theory of Fertility Decline (London/New York: Academic Press, 1982). E. Durkheim, “The conjugal family,” in M. Traugott (ed.), Emile Durkheim on Institutional Analysis (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1892/1978), pp. 229–39. J. Georgas, F. J. R. van de Vijver, J. W. Berry, Y. H. Poortinga, and C. ¸ Ka
gıt¸cıba¸sı, “Methodology of the study,” in J. Georgas, J. W. Berry, F. J. R van de Vijver,

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C. ¸ Ka
gıt¸cıba¸sı, and Y. H. Poortinga (eds.), Families across Cultures. A 30nation Psychological Study (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2006), pp. 111–25. W. J. Goode, World Revolution and Family Patterns (New York: Free Press, 1963). W. J. Goode, World Changes in Divorce Patterns (New Haven/London: Yale University Press, 1993). J. Goody, The Oriental, the Ancient and the Primitive. Systems of Marriage and the Family in the Pre-industrial Societies of Eurasia (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1990). J. Hajnal, “European marriage patterns in perspective,” in D. V. Glass and D. E. C. Eversley (eds.), Population in History (Chicago: Aldine, 1965), pp. 101–43. G. Hofstede, Culture’s Consequences (Beverly Hills/London: Sage, 1980). R. Inglehart, The Silent Revolution: Changing Values and Political Styles among Western Publics (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1977). R. Inglehart, Modernization and Postmodernization. Cultural, Economic, and Political Change in 43 Societies (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1997). C. ¸ Ka
gıtc¸ ıba¸sı, The Changing Value of Children in Turkey (Honolulu, HI: EastWest Center, 1982). C. ¸ Ka
gıt¸cıba¸sı, “Intra-family interaction and a model of family change,” in T. Erder (ed.), Family in Turkish Society (Ankara, Turkey: MAYA, 1985), pp. 149–65. C. ¸ Ka
gıtc¸ ıba¸sı, “Family and socialization in cross-cultural perspective: A model of change,” in J. Berman (ed.), Cross-cultural Perspectives: Nebraska Symposium on Motivation 1989 (Lincoln: Nebraska University Press, 1990), pp. 135–200. C. ¸ Ka
gıt¸cıba¸sı, Family and Human Development across Cultures: A View from the Other Side (Mahwah, NJ: Lawrence Erlbaum, 1996). C. ¸ Ka
gıtc¸ ıba¸sı, “Cross-cultural perspectives on family change,” in R. Liljestr€ om € and E. Ozdalga (eds.), Autonomy and Dependence in the Family: Turkey and Sweden in Critical Perspective (Istanbul: Swedish Research Institute, 2002), pp. 19–38. C. ¸ Ka
gıt¸cıba¸sı, “Autonomy and relatedness in cultural context: Implications for self and family,” Journal of Cross-Cultural Psychology, 36 (2005), 403–22. U. Kim, H. C. Triandis, C. ¸ Ka
gıt¸cıba¸sı, S. C. Choi, and G. Yoon (eds.), Individualism and Collectivism: Theory, Method, and Applications (Thousand Oaks/London: Sage, 1994). D. Lerner, The Passing of Traditional Society: Modernizing in the Middle East (Glencoe, IL: Free Press, 1958). R. Lesthaeghe, “A century of demographic and cultural change in western Europe: An exploration of underlying dimensions,” Population and Development Review, 9 (1983), 411–35. R. Lesthaeghe and K. Neels, “From the first to the second demographic transition: An interpretation of the spatial continuity of demographic innovation in France, Belgium and Switzerland,” European Journal of Population, 18 (2002), 325–60. R. Lesthaeghe and J. Surkyn, “Cultural dynamics and economic theories of fertility change,” Population and Development Review, 14 (1988), 1–45.

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R. Lesthaeghe and J. Surkyn, “When history moves on: The foundations and diffusion of a second demographic transition,” in A. Thornton, R. Jayakody, and W. Axinn (eds.), International Family Change: Ideational Perspectives (Mahwah, NJ: Lawrence Erlbaum, 2008), pp. 81–117. R. Lesthaeghe and P. Willems, “Is low fertility a temporary phenomenon in the European Union?,” Population and Development Review, 25 (1999), 211–28. R. Lesthaeghe, L. Neidert, and J. Surkyn, Household Formation and the “Second Demographic Transition” in Europe and the US: Insights from Middle Range Models (Ann Arbor: University of Michigan, 2008). A. Maslow, Motivation and Personality (New York: Harper & Row, 1954). B. Nauck, “Familiensystem und Kultur [Family system and culture],” in G. Trommsdorff and H. J. Kornadt (eds.), Kulturvergleichende Psychologie. Volume 1. Theorien und Methoden in der kulturvergleichenden und kulturpsychologischen Forschung [Cross-cultural Comparative Psychology. Volume 1. Theories and Methods in Cross-cultural and Culture-psychological Research] (G€ ottingen: Hogrefe, 2007), pp. 405–84. B. Nauck and D. Klaus, “Family change in Turkey: Peasant society, Islam, and the revolution ‘from above,’” in A. Thornton, R. Jayakody, and W. Axinn (eds.), International Family Change: Ideational Perspectives (Mahwah, NJ: Lawrence Erlbaum, 2008, pp. 281–312. F. W. Notestein, “Population – the long view,” in T. W. Schultz (ed.), Food for the World (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1945), pp. 37–57. E. A. Olson, “Duofocal family structure and an alternative model of husband– wife relationship,” in C. ¸ Ka
gıtc¸ ıba¸sı (ed.), Sex Roles, Family, and Community in Turkey (Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1982), pp. 33–72. T. Parsons, “The kinship system of the contemporary United States,” American Anthropologist, 45 (1943), 22–38. T. Parsons, The Social System (London: Routledge & Kegan Paul, 1951). J. Surkyn and R. Lesthaeghe, “Value orientations and the second demographic transition (SDT) in Northern, Western and Southern Europe: An update,” Demographic Research, 3 (2004), 45–86. K. Tanaka and N. E. Johnson “Childlessness, only children, and the second demographic transition in Japan,” paper presented at the annual meeting of the American Sociological Association, 2005. A. Thornton, Reading History Sideways: The Fallacy and Enduring Impact of the Developmental Paradigm on Family Life (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2005). D. J. Van de Kaa, “Europe’s second demographic transition,” in Population Bulletin, Volume 42 (Washington: Population Reference Bureau, 1987). D. J. Van de Kaa, “Demographic transition, second,” International Encyclopedia of the Social and Behavioral Sciences, 5 (2001), 3486–88. D. J. Van de Kaa, “The idea of a second demographic transition in industrialized countries,” Journal of Population and Social Security, 1 (2003). D. J. Van de Kaa, “Is the second demographic transition a useful research concept? Questions and answers,” in Vienna Yearbook of Population Research € 2004 (Vienna: Verlag der Osterreichischen Akademie der Wissenschaften, 2004), pp. 4–10.

14

Living together in culturally-plural societies: Understanding and managing acculturation and multiculturalism John W. Berry _ Since our first meeting at the now famous Istanbul conference on Human Abilities in 1971 (Cronbach and Drenth 1972), Ci
¸ gdem and her work have been constantly on my personal and research agenda (e.g., Berry et al. 1997; Ka
gıt¸cıba¸sı and Berry 1989). Our joint concern for how to make psychological research useful to policy and program development has brought us together on numerous occasions. One occasion, which will be the focus of this chapter, was the 1997 exchange of views in Applied Psychology (Berry 1997; Ka
gıt¸cıba¸sı 1997), where we attempted to bridge the positions between an avowed cultural pluralist (me), and one who saw dangers in such a world view. In this chapter, I outline my pluralist perspective, portray her concerns, and attempt to persuade her (and others) that pluralism is a reality that needs to be understood in psychological and policy terms, and then accommodated at the personal and societal levels.

Introduction All contemporary societies are now culturally plural; no society is made up of people having one culture, one language, and one identity (Sam and Berry 2006). The prediction made over a century ago by Quincy Adams (1811; cited in Lens 1974: 3) that, “The whole continent of North America appears to be destined by Divine Providence to be peopled by one nation, speaking one language, professing one general system of religious and political principles, and accustomed to one general tenor of social usages and customs,” has not come to pass in North America, nor in any other part of the world. This is because contact between cultures is a creative and reactive process, generating new customs and values, and stimulating resistance, rather than simply leading to cultural domination and homogenization. My chapter begins with an outline of some ways in which individuals and societies (both dominant and non-dominant) seek to live together in such culturally-plural societies (Berry 2005). This will be followed by 227

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evidence drawn from recent work with immigrant youth (Berry et al. 2006), with particular emphasis on Turkish youth settled in Europe. Acculturation: cultural and individual Acculturation is the process of cultural and psychological change that takes place as a result of contact between cultural groups and their individual members (Redfield et al. 1936). Such contact and change occurs during colonization, military invasion, migration, and sojourning (such as tourism, international study, and overseas posting); it continues after initial contact in culturally-plural societies, where ethnocultural communities maintain features of their heritage cultures. Adaptation to living in culture-contact settings takes place over time; occasionally it is stressful, but often it results in some form of mutual accommodation. Following an initial period of work with colonized peoples, recent acculturation research has focused on how immigrants (both voluntary and involuntary) changed following their entry and settlement into receiving societies (Sam and Berry 2006). Most recently, research has examined how ethnocultural groups and individuals relate to each other, and change, as a result of their attempts to live together in culturallyplural societies. Nowadays, all peoples in contact are important, as globalization results in ever-larger trading and political relations: indigenous national populations experience neo-colonization, new waves of immigrants, sojourners (especially guest workers), and refugees flow from these economic and political changes, and large ethnocultural populations become established in most countries. Graves (1967) introduced the concept of psychological acculturation, which refers to changes in an individual who is a participant in a culturecontact situation, being influenced both directly by the external (usually dominant) culture, and by the changing culture (usually non-dominant) of which the individual is a member. There are two reasons for keeping the cultural and psychological levels distinct. The first is that in crosscultural psychology, we view individual human behavior as interacting with the cultural context within which it occurs; hence separate conceptions and measurements are required at the two levels (Berry et al. 2002). The second reason is that not every individual enters into, participates in, or changes in the same way during their acculturation; there are vast individual differences in psychological acculturation, even among individuals who have the same cultural origin and who live in the same acculturative arena (Sam and Berry 2006). A framework that outlines and links cultural and psychological acculturation, and identifies the two (or more) groups in contact (Berry 2003)

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provided a map of those phenomena which I believe need to be conceptualized and measured during acculturation research. At the cultural level, we need to understand key features of the two original cultural groups prior to their major contact. It is also important to understand the nature of their contact relationships, and the resulting dynamic cultural changes in both groups and in the ethnocultural groups that emerge during the process of acculturation. The gathering of this information requires extensive ethnographic, community-level work. These cultural changes can be minor or substantial, and range from being easily accomplished through to being a source of major cultural disruption. At the individual level, we need to consider the psychological changes that individuals in all groups undergo, and their eventual adaptation to their new situations. Identifying these changes requires sampling a population and studying individuals who are variably involved in the process of acculturation. These changes can be a set of rather easily accomplished behavioral shifts (e.g., in ways of speaking, dressing, and eating) or they can be more problematic, producing acculturative stress (Berry 1976; Berry et al. 1987) as manifested by uncertainty, anxiety, and depression. Adaptations can be primarily internal or psychological (e.g., sense of wellbeing, or self-esteem) or socio-cultural (linking the individual to others in the new society, as manifested for example in competence in the activities of daily intercultural living; Ward 1996). Intercultural strategies The concept of intercultural strategies refers to the various ways that groups and individuals seek to engage each other in culturally-plural societies. Knowledge of these variations has increased substantially in recent years (see Berry 2003), challenging the assumption that every acculturating group and individual would assimilate and become absorbed into the dominant group (cf. Adams 1811, cited in Lens 1974; Gordon 1964). At the cultural level, the two groups in contact (whether dominant or non-dominant) usually have some notion about what they are attempting to do (e.g., colonial or settlement policies). The more immediate outcomes of the acculturation process (including the behavior changes and acculturative stress phenomena) are known to be a function, at least to some extent, of what people try to do during their acculturation; and the longer-term outcomes (both psychological and socio-cultural adaptations) are often related to the strategic goals set by the groups of which they are members (Berry 1997). Four intercultural strategies have been derived from two basic issues facing all acculturating peoples. These issues are based on the distinction

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John W. Berry Issue 1: Maintenance of heritage culture and identity

Issue 2: Relationships sought among groups INTEGRATION

SEPARATION

ASSIMILATION

MARGINALIZATION

STRATEGIES OF ETHNO-CULTURAL GROUPS

MULTICULTURALISM

SEGREGATION

MELTING POT

EXCLUSION

STRATEGIES OF LARGER SOCIETY

Figure 14.1 Intercultural strategies in ethno-cultural groups and the larger society.

between orientations toward one’s own group, and those toward other groups (Berry 1980). This distinction is rendered as (1) a relative preference for maintaining one’s heritage culture and identity, and (2) a relative preference for having contact with and participating in the larger society, along with other ethnocultural groups. It has now been well demonstrated that these two dimensions are empirically, as well as conceptually, independent from each other (e.g., Ryder et al. 2000). This two-dimensional formulation is presented in Figure 14.1. These two issues can be responded to on attitudinal dimensions, shown as varying along bipolar dimensions, rather than as bald (positive or negative) alternatives. Orientations to these issues intersect to define four acculturation strategies. From the point of view of non-dominant ethnocultural groups (on the left of Figure 14.1), they are referred to as acculturation strategies. The first strategy is when individuals do not wish to maintain their cultural identity and seek daily interaction with other cultures; here, the assimilation strategy is defined. In contrast, when individuals place a value on holding on to their original culture, and at the same time wish to avoid interaction with others, then the separation alternative is defined. When there is an interest in both maintaining one’s original culture while in daily interactions with other groups, integration is the option. In this case, there is some degree of cultural integrity maintained, while at the same time seeking, as a member of an ethnocultural group, to participate as an integral part of the larger social network. Finally, when there is little possibility or interest in cultural

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maintenance (often for reasons of enforced cultural loss), and little interest in having relations with others (often for reasons of exclusion or discrimination), then marginalization is defined. This characterization was based on the assumption that non-dominant groups and their individual members have the freedom to choose how they want to acculturate (Berry 2001). This, of course, is not always the case. When the dominant group enforces certain forms of acculturation, or constrains the choices of non-dominant groups or individuals, then other terms need to be used. Thus, integration can only be “freely” chosen and successfully pursued by non-dominant groups when the dominant society is open and inclusive in its orientation toward cultural diversity in general, and to the specific ethnocultural groups. Thus a mutual accommodation is required for integration to be attained, involving the acceptance by both groups of the right of all groups to live as culturally different peoples. This strategy requires non-dominant groups to adopt the basic values of the larger society, while at the same time the dominant group must be prepared to adapt national institutions (e.g., education, health, labor) to better meet the needs of all groups now living together in the plural society. These two basic issues were initially approached from the point of view of the non-dominant ethnocultural groups. However, the original anthropological definition (Redfield et al. 1936) clearly established that both groups in contact would change and become acculturated. Hence, a third dimension was added: that of the powerful role played by the dominant group in influencing the way in which mutual acculturation would take place (Berry 1974). The addition of this third dimension produces the right side of Figure 14.1, where the strategies of members of the larger society are presented. These strategies have two aspects: the acculturation expectations that the dominant group has for the way that non-dominant group should acculturate; and their own willingness to change themselves during the acculturation process (Berry 2003). Assimilation when sought by the dominant group is termed the melting pot. When separation is forced by the dominant group, it is segregation. Marginalization, when imposed by the dominant group, is exclusion. Finally, integration, when diversity is a widely accepted feature of the society as a whole, including all the various ethnocultural groups, is called multiculturalism. There is another aspect to phenomena on this side of Figure 14.1. Research has also been carried out with respect to the dominant group’s willingness to engage in cultural change themselves, as part of the process of mutual accommodation. This aspect has been termed multicultural ideology (Berry and Kalin 2000; Berry et al. 1977; see also Arends-Toth and Van de Vijver 2003). Finally, it is

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important to note that the concepts of assimilation and integration have often come to be used as synonyms, particularly in Europe and the US. In my original and continuing usage, these are clearly distinct, based on their different emphases on the value placed on cultural maintenance. With the use of this framework, comparisons can be made between the acculturation strategies, between individuals and their groups, and between non-dominant peoples and the larger society within which they are acculturating. The acculturation ideologies and policies of the dominant group constitute an important element of intercultural research (see Berry et al. 1977; Bourhis et al. 1997), while the preferences of non-dominant peoples are a core feature in acculturation research (Berry et al. 1989). Inconsistencies and conflicts between these various acculturation preferences are common sources of difficulty for those experiencing acculturation. For example, this can occur when individuals do not accept the main ideology of their society (when individuals oppose immigrant cultural maintenance in a society where multiculturalism is official policy), or when immigrant children challenge the way of acculturating set out by their parents. Generally, when acculturation experiences cause problems for acculturating individuals, we observe the phenomenon of acculturative stress, with variations in levels of adaptation. Multiculturalism Research on these complex patterns of intercultural relations began in Canada, as a response to the 1971 Federal Government announcement of a “Multicultural Policy.” This policy has one main goal, and three programs to achieve it (Berry 1984, 2006; Berry and Kalin 2000). The main goal is to improve the degree of mutual acceptance of all groups within the plural society. The first program (the cultural component) is to provide support and encouragement for cultural maintenance and development among all ethnocultural groups. This component parallels the first issue in the acculturation strategies framework, which deals with the maintenance of heritage cultures and identities. The second program (the social component) encourages the sharing of cultures by providing opportunities for intergroup contact, and the removal of barriers to full participation in the larger society. This component parallels the second issue in the strategies framework, which deals with contact with other ethnocultural groups. The third program (the intercultural communication component) represents the bilingual reality of the larger society of Canada, and promotes the learning of one or both official languages (English and French) as a means for all ethnocultural groups to interact

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with each other; this serves as a basis for sharing each others’ cultures and for participating in national life by everyone. It is essential to note that the concept of multiculturalism and of the multiculturalism policy has two simultaneous and equally important emphases: the maintenance of heritage cultures and identities and the full and equitable participation of all ethnocultural groups in the life of the larger society. In terms used in Figure 14.1, pursuing the first without the second leads to separation/segregation, while emphasizing the second without the first leads to assimilation/melting pot. Together, and in balance with each other, it should be possible to achieve integration/ multiculturalism, and to avoid marginalization/exclusion. However, in some societies (e.g., many countries in Europe and the US) there is a common misunderstanding that multiculturalism means only the presence of many independent cultural communities in a society, without their equitable participation and incorporation. The 1997 exchange My 1997 article, “Immigration, acculturation and adaptation,” was the subject of a number of invited commentaries; one of these was by Ci
¸ gdem Ka
gıt¸cıba¸sı, who argued that in order to improve intercultural attitudes, efforts need to be “made to engender appreciation of these differences, ideally through equal-status interdependent contact opportunities.” She concluded that, “Multiculturalism, by itself, is no guarantee of tolerance,” and that integration is a “necessary, but not a sufficient condition for attaining intergroup harmony” (Ka
gıtc¸ ıba¸sı 1997: 44). However, there is no acknowledgement here that multiculturalism has two components, as outlined above: in addition to cultural maintenance, there is a second component emphasizing equitable participation and inclusion. In my response to Ka
gıtc¸ ıba¸sı (Berry 1997: 64), I noted that, “The problem here seems to be that the term multiculturalism is used by Ka
gıtc¸ ıba¸sı in the very general sense of there being many cultures in a society; . . . the examples she used resemble more a separation/segregation acculturation strategy than integration.” In my view, there have been two trends in changes in the meaning attached to the terms integration and multiculturalism since I first used them in psychological research. As noted above, integration has become a generic term to refer to any kind of incorporation of immigrants into a society, but most often with the meaning of assimilation. And multiculturalism has become a term used to refer to any kind of culturally-plural society, but most often with the meaning of a society where many ethnocultural groups are present, but without any form of equitable participation.

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Immigrant youth To exemplify these ideas and differences in points of view, I now present some findings from research with immigrant youth (Berry et al. 2006). First, I present the general findings for all immigrant youth in the study, and then turn to the samples of Turkish youth. This study examined the acculturation and adaptation of immigrant youth (aged thirteen to eighteen years) settled in thirteen societies (N ¼ 5,366), as well as a sample of national youth (N ¼ 2,631). The study was guided by three core questions: how do immigrant youth deal with the process of acculturation; how well do they adapt; and are there important relationships between how they acculturate and how well they adapt? Examining our first question (variations in how immigrant youth acculturate), the first set of variables assessed intercultural relations, including the four acculturation strategies (AIMS): cultural identities; language knowledge and use; peer relations (all distinguishing between ethnic and national orientations); and family relationship values (family obligations and adolescent rights). Cluster analysis of these intercultural variables produced four distinct acculturation profiles, resembling the four acculturation strategies of non-dominant groups in Figure 14.1. These profiles were termed: integration (carrying the same name as the integration strategy in Figure 14.1); ethnic (cf. the separation strategy); national (cf. the assimilation acculturation strategy); and diffuse (cf. the marginalization strategy). The four clusters varied in the proportion of youth in each: integration (36.4 percent of immigrant youth); ethnic/ separation (22.5 percent), national/assimilation (18.7 percent); and diffuse/ marginalization (22.4 percent). All adolescents for whom we had complete data (N¼ 4,334) fit one of the four profiles. The integration profile was the most frequent. It consisted of 1,576 adolescents who indicated relatively high involvement in both their ethnic and national cultures. They strongly endorsed integration and gave low endorsement to assimilation, separation, and marginalization. These adolescents were high on both ethnic and national identities. They reported high national language proficiency and average ethnic language proficiency; and their language usage suggested balanced use of both languages. They had peer contacts with both their own group and the national group. They were near the mean on family relationship values. These adolescents appear to be comfortable in both the ethnic and national contexts, in terms of acculturation preferences, identity, language, peer contacts, and values. The ethnic/separation profile consisted of 975 adolescents who showed a clear orientation toward their own ethnic group. They endorsed the separation attitude and scored low on assimilation, national identity, and

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contacts with the national group. They had high ethnic identity, ethnic language proficiency and usage, and ethnic peer contacts. Their support for family relationship values was well above the average. They represent young people who are largely embedded within their own culture and show little involvement with the larger society. The national/assimilation profile included 810 adolescents who showed a strong orientation toward the new society in which they were living. Their profile is a mirror image of the ethnic profile. These adolescents were high on assimilation and national identity, and very low on ethnic identity. They were proficient in the national language and used it predominantly. Their peer contacts were largely with members of the national group, and they showed low support for family obligations. These adolescents appear to exemplify the idea of assimilation, indicating a lack of retention of their ethnic culture and identity. The diffuse/marginalization profile is not as easily interpretable. These 973 youth reported high proficiency in, and usage of, the ethnic language, but also reported low ethnic identity. They had low proficiency in the national language, and they reported somewhat low national identity and national peer contacts. They endorsed three contradictory acculturation attitudes: assimilation, marginalization, and separation. This inconsistent pattern suggests that these young people are uncertain about their place in society, perhaps wanting to be part of the larger society, but lacking the skills and ability to make contacts. This profile appears similar to young people described in the literature on marginalization as being poised in psychological uncertainty between two social worlds; they are also similar to those youth portrayed in the identity formation literature as “diffuse,” characterized by a lack of commitment to a direction or purpose in their lives and who are often socially isolated. With respect to our second main question, another set of variables focused on youth adaptation. These included life satisfaction, self-esteem, psychological problems, school adjustment, and behavior problems. Factor analysis of the five adaptation variables revealed two distinct forms of adaptation: psychological and socio-cultural, corresponding well to the conceptual distinction outlined earlier (Ward 1996). Finally, with respect to our third question, there were substantial relationships between how youth acculturate and how well they adapt: those with an integration profile had the best psychological and sociocultural adaptation outcomes, while those with a diffuse profile had the worst; in between, those with an ethnic profile had moderately good psychological adaptation but poorer socio-cultural adaptation, while those with a national profile had moderately poor psychological adaptation, and slightly negative socio-cultural adaptation. This pattern of results was largely replicated using structural equation modeling.

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Of particular importance for our discussion is the relationship between how youth acculturate and how well they adapt, and another variable: perceived discrimination. This is important because such discrimination is the best indicator of the degree to which immigrant youth are permitted to participate equitably in the life of the larger society. Those in the integration cluster reported experiencing the least discrimination, and those in the diffuse cluster had the most; in between, national cluster youth had moderately low discrimination, and ethnic cluster youth had moderately high discrimination. And in the structural equation model, the single most powerful variable predicting poor psychological and socio-cultural adaptation was the degree of discrimination perceived by immigrant youth. Thus, the degree to which immigrant youth experience discrimination corresponds with their preferred acculturation strategy, and has a direct impact on their adaptation. How do these general findings relate to the issue of cultural pluralism, and to the presence or absence of a multiculturalism policy in a society of settlement? We were able to arrange the thirteen societies according to two indicators of pluralism: the degree of actual cultural diversity, and the degree of a policy promoting cultural pluralism, based on the analyses of Banting and Kymlicka (2004). We found that that both diversity variables were directly related to both an increased orientation toward the national group and stronger involvement with one’s own ethnic group. The combination of a stronger orientation in more diverse societies toward both their ethnic group and the national society (which we have earlier termed the integration orientation) might indicate that greater diversity provides a salient context in which youth feel more able to orient themselves toward both groups, rather than having to choose between them. We also found that higher levels of cultural diversity coincide with lower psychological adaptation, as well as with increased experience of discrimination. This finding suggests that greater diversity in a society offers the opportunity for greater discrimination against members of the various cultural groups; conversely, when there is little diversity, there can be fewer such opportunities. With respect to diversity policy, youth in societies supporting a policy of cultural diversity reported slightly better socio-cultural adaptation than youth in societies less supportive of such policy. Turkish youth Are these general findings for all immigrant youth replicated among Turkish youth? We studied a total of 732 Turkish youth living in six

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countries (Finland, France, Germany, the Netherlands, Norway, and Sweden; see Vedder et al. 2006). With respect to the first question, regarding how immigrant youth deal with the process of acculturation, Turkish youth were less represented in the integration cluster (ranging from 19.6% in Norway to 34.5% in France, compared to 36.4% in the sample as a whole) and in the national cluster (ranging from 2.0% in the Netherlands to 50.9% in Finland, compared to 18.7% in the whole sample). Turkish youth were more represented in the ethnic cluster (ranging from 1.9% in Finland to 53.9% in the Netherlands, compared to 22.5% of immigrant youth in general). There was no difference between immigrant youth in general in diffuse cluster membership (22.4% overall), but there was large variation across societies of settlement (ranging from 13.2% in the Netherlands to 39.6% in Germany). Despite these large variations, these differences show that Turkish youth are, on average, less oriented to the societies in which they have come to settle, and more oriented toward their own cultural communities than immigrant youth in general. With respect to the second question concerning how well they adapt, there was no overall difference in the levels of psychological and sociocultural adaptation between Turkish youth and immigrant youth in general. And with respect to the third question, examining the relationship between how and how well immigrant youth adapt, the relationship between cluster membership and adaptation largely replicated that found for immigrant youth in general. For psychological adaptation, Turkish youth in the integration cluster had the highest scores, followed by those in the ethnic cluster; those in the national and diffuse clusters had much lower scores. For socio-cultural adaptation, again those in the integration and ethnic clusters had the highest scores, and those in the national and diffuse clusters had the lowest scores. However, for Turkish youth, ethnic profile membership provided better scores, and national profile membership provided lower scores, than was the case for immigrant youth in general. Thus, it appears that the greater orientation of Turkish youth to their own cultural communities (noted above) serves them well with respect to their adaptation. The structural equation model lent support to the general finding that a combined orientation toward the national and the ethnic cultures corresponds to more positive adaptation outcomes than an orientation toward either the national or the ethnic culture alone. This appeared to be more so for psychological adaptation than for socio-cultural adaptation. And, again, perceived discrimination negatively affected both adaptation outcomes.

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Conclusion If individual preferences regarding how to acculturate (acculturation strategies), and the link between these strategies and adaptation are taken as useful criteria, then the integration/multicultural way of living in a culturally-plural society is clearly the best option. This conclusion appears to apply to Turkish youth living in Europe, as well as to immigrant youth in general. The experience of discrimination appears to be an important factor in the choice of acculturation strategy, and has a substantial limiting effect on youth adaptation. While an ethnic orientation is related to such discrimination, it does have some positive adaptation outcomes. However, an integration orientation has even better adaptation outcomes for immigrant youth, but this can only come about with lowered levels of discrimination. In terms of the two dimensions in the acculturation strategies framework, there is clear evidence of a strong preference for cultural maintenance among immigrant youth; and there is also clear evidence for a desire to engage the larger society. However achieving this integrative way of acculturating is also in the hands of members of the larger society. With public policies that broadcast the joint message that it is acceptable (even desirable) for immigrant youth to maintain their heritage cultures, and that this will be no impediment to their full and equitable participation in the evolving national society, the most positive outcomes (win–win) will be achieved for all. In contrast, policies that seek “one people, one culture, one identity and one language” are bound to be rejected by immigrants, encourage discrimination against them, and lead to negative (lose–lose) outcomes for all. references J. Arends-Toth and F. Van de Vijver, “Multiculturalism and acculturation: Views of Dutch and Turkish-Dutch,” European Journal of Social Psychology, 33 (2003), 249–66. K. Banting and W. Kymlicka, “Do multiculturalism policies erode the welfare state?,” in P. Van Parijs (ed.), Cultural Diversity versus Economic Solidarity (Brussels: Editions De Boeck Universite, 2004), pp. 227–84. J. W. Berry, “Psychological aspects of cultural pluralism,” Topics in Culture Learning, 2 (1974), 17–22. J. W. Berry, Human Ecology and Cognitive Style: Comparative Studies in Cultural and Psychological Adaptation( New York: Sage/Halsted, 1976). J. W. Berry, “Acculturation as varieties of adaptation,” in A. Padilla (ed.), Acculturation: Theory, Models and Some New Findings (Boulder, CO: Westview Press, 1980).

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J. W. Berry, “Multicultural policy in Canada: A social psychological analysis,” Canadian Journal of Behavioural Science, 16 (1984), 353–70. J. W. Berry, “Immigration, acculturation and adaptation,” Applied Psychology: An International Review, 46 (1997), 5–68. J. W. Berry, “A psychology of immigration,” Journal of Social Issues, 57 (2001), 615–31. J. W. Berry, “Conceptual approaches to acculturation,” in K. Chun, P. BallsOrganista, and G. Marin (eds.), Acculturation: Advances in Theory, Measurement and Application (Washington, DC: APA Books, 2003), pp. 17–37. J. W. Berry, “Acculturation: Living successfully in two cultures,” International Journal of Intercultural Relations, 29 (2005), 697–12. J. W. Berry, “Mutual intercultural relations among immigrants and ethnocultural groups in Canada,” International Journal of Intercultural Relations, 30 (2006), 719–34. J. W. Berry and R. Kalin, “Multicultural policy and social psychology: The Canadian experience,” in S. Renshon and J. Duckitt (eds.), Political Psychology: Cultural and Cross-cultural Foundations (London: MacMillan, 2000). J. W. Berry, R. Kalin, and D. Taylor, Multiculturalism and Ethnic Attitudes in Canada (Ottawa: Supply & Services, 1977). J. W. Berry, U. Kim, T. Minde, and D. Mok, “Comparative studies of acculturative stress,” International Migration Review, 21 (1987), 491–511. J. W. Berry, U. Kim, S. Power, M. Young, and M. Bujaki, “Acculturation attitudes in plural societies,” Applied Psychology: An International Review, 38 (1989), 185–206. J. W. Berry, J. S. Phinney, D. L. Sam, and P. Vedder (eds.), Immigrant Youth in Cultural Transition: Acculturation, Identity, and Adaptation across National Contexts (Mahwah, NJ: Lawrence Erlbaum, 2006). J. W. Berry, Y. H. Poortinga, M. H. Segall, and P. R. Dasen, Cross-cultural Psychology: Research and Applications, Second edition (New York: Cambridge University Press, 2002). J. W. Berry, M. H. Segall, and C. ¸ Ka
gıtc¸ ıba¸sı, (eds.), Handbook of Cross-cultural Psychology. Volume 3. Social Behavior and Applications (Boston, MA: Allyn & Bacon, 1997). R. Bourhis, C. Moise, S. Perreault, and S. Senecal, “Towards an interactive acculturation model: A social psychological approach,” International Journal of Psychology, 32 (1997), 369–86. L. J. Cronbach and P. J. D. Drenth (eds.), Mental Tests and Cultural Adaptation (The Hague: Mouton, 1972). M. Gordon, Assimilation in American Life (New York: Oxford, 1964). Government of Canada, “Multicultural policy,” Statement to House of Commons, Ottawa, 1971. T. Graves, “Psychological acculturation in a tri-ethnic community,” SouthWestern Journal of Anthropology, 23 (1967), 337–50. C. ¸ Ka
gıt¸cıba¸sı, “Whither multiculturalism?,” Applied Psychology: An International Review, 46 (1997), 44–49. C. ¸ Ka
gıt¸cıba¸sı and J. W. Berry, “Cross-cultural psychology: Current research and trends,” Annual Review of Psychology, 40 (1989), 493–531.

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S. Lens, The Forging of the American Empire (New York: Thomas Crowell, 1974), p. 3. R. Redfield, R. Linton, and M. J. Herskovits, “Memorandum for the study of acculturation,” American Anthropologist, 38 (1936), 149–52. A. Ryder, L. Alden, and D. Paulhus, “Is acculturation unidimensional or bidimensional?,” Journal of Personality and Social Psychology, 79 (2000), 49–65. D. Sam and J. W. Berry (eds.), Cambridge Handbook of Acculturation Psychology (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2006). P. Vedder, D. L. Sam, F. J. R. van de Vijver, and J. S. Phinney, “Vietnamese and Turkish youth: Acculturation and adaptation in two ethnocultural groups,” in J. W. Berry, J. S. Phinney, D. L. Sam, and P. Vedder (eds.), Immigrant Youth in Cultural Transition: Acculturation, Identity and Adaptation across National Contexts (Mahwah, NJ: Lawrence Erlbaum, 2006), pp. 185–209. C. Ward, “Acculturation,” in D. Landis and R. Bhagat (eds.), Handbook of Intercultural Training, Second edition (Newbury Park, CA: Sage, 1996), pp. 124–47.

15

Cultural continuity and discontinuity in Turkish migrant families: Extending the Model of Family Change Karen Phalet and Derya G€ ung€or

In contributing to this volume in honor of Ci
¸ gdem Ka
gıtc¸ ıba¸sı, we are acknowledging our indebtedness to her. Her seminal research and leading role as a cross-cultural psychologist have profoundly influenced our own involvement in cross-cultural psychology – and that of others working with us. Since our first meeting, when I conducted my Ph.D. research in Turkey under her supervision, I have tried to live up to her advice: make sense of what your data are telling you. What my data were telling me at the time was that achievement motivation for the Turkish participants in my research was a WE-thing rather than a MEthing, as mainstream motivational literature would have it. Having started my research career at a time when cross-cultural psychology was virtually nonexistent in most psychology departments in Europe, there is another insight that I owe to her inspiring example. Good research, and in particular good cross-cultural research, is a WE-thing too. It is a joint endeavor, which connects researchers and research ideas across cultures, genders, and generations. The cross-cultural studies discussed in this chapter are no exception to this rule. Following in her footsteps, we feel fortunate to be part of the transmission of this “culture of relatedness” in cross-cultural research to future generations of psychologists.

The cross-cultural study of the family, as exemplified by Ka
gıtc¸ ıba¸sı’s (1989, 1996) seminal work, is crucial for our understanding of acculturative change in the context of international migration. Not only are family values and family ties at the heart of the minority cultures and identities of migrant communities worldwide, normative conceptions of family life are also known to differ considerably between cultures and societies. In the case of Turkish labor migration to the north-west of Europe, the first generation of guest workers was recruited in the 1960s and 1970s from the least socio-economically developed segments of the Turkish society, where a traditional family model continues to be the norm (Ataca 2006). Most Turkish migrants had rural backgrounds, low levels of formal education, and were employed as unskilled workers in 241

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industry. In the late 1970s and in the 1980s, they brought their wives or brides from the same rural parts of Turkey (Abadan-Unat 1982). With the onset of economic restructuring in the 1980s, large numbers of migrant workers were pushed into long-term unemployment or permanent economic inactivity. This low socio-economic position of the first generation largely persists into the second generation, who are now coming of age and leaving school in increasing numbers (Phalet 2007; Phalet et al. 2007). Coming from the rural and least educated parts of Turkey, Turkish guest workers brought with them their conservative family values. Their children are thus exposed to very different visions of family values at home and in the host society, where more liberal and egalitarian values are the rule (Nauck 1989). This chapter addresses the key questions of how Turkish migrant families negotiate different family models in the contexts of heritage and host cultures. To address these questions, we apply and extend an approach from Ka
gıtc¸ ıba¸sı’s (1989, 1996, 2005, 2007) Model of Family Change (MFC) to the migration context. Since the model articulates changes in family values and parenting in cultural context, it offers valuable insights into the changing values and parenting practices of migrant families. Yet, very few studies have empirically tested Ka
gıtc¸ ıba¸sı’s MFC among migrant groups. The first part of this chapter discusses two related research lines on value acculturation and value transmission in the context of migration. The second part draws together seemingly contradictory findings of value change and continuity from both research lines. In addition, the key role of parenting in migrant families is briefly discussed. To conclude, we briefly discuss implications of the MFC for value continuity and discontinuity in migrant families. Extending Ka
gıtc¸ ıba¸sı’s Model of Family Change The concept of family models refers to normative family systems, which connect distinct patterns of family relations and family values, and the corresponding socialization goals of families, with cultural differences _ in values and self-construals ( Imamo
glu 2003; Ka
gıt¸cıba¸sı 1996, 2005, 2007). As this chapter focuses on parenting and family values, we limit our discussion of the MFC to its implications for the socialization of values. The model contrasts nonwestern cultures of relatedness where interdependence, in the sense of interpersonal connectedness and closeness, is highly developed and valued, with western cultures of separateness where independence, in the sense of interpersonal distance and separation from others, is valued. In addition, the model distinguishes

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traditional cultures and societies, with their emphasis on material interdependence between family members, from more modern cultures of relatedness, where the emphasis shifts from material to emotional interdependence. Worldwide, traditional family values are under pressure from the societal changes associated with industrialization, urbanization, educational expansion, mass communication, and international migration. Traditional values in rural Turkish families are the starting point of the MFC (Ka
gıt¸cıba¸sı 1970, 1982a). In the traditional family model, family members are connected through lifelong obligations in close-knit and hierarchically structured relationships across generations and gender. This model is characterized by the material interdependence of family members and the ensuing instrumental value of children as a source of economic wealth and old-age security for their parents (Ka
gıtc¸ ıba¸sı 1982b). Interdependence between generations is typically gendered, so that the patrilineal transfer of wealth is the rule, with women being raised to serve their families-in-law. Furthermore, socialization accentuates rigid paternal authority and obedience in children. Traditional family patterns are documented by repeated findings from the cross-national Value of Children (VOC) surveys in rural parts of Turkey, Indonesia, China, and Korea (Trommsdorff and Nauck 2005). As distinct from material dependence in the traditional model, emotional closeness in more modern family systems would favor gender equality and support personal autonomy along with interpersonal relatedness. The expected shift in modern cultures of relatedness is in line with a notion of adaptive parenting (Levine 1977). This notion refers to changes in childrearing beliefs, norms, and customs when environmental constraints, such as high infant mortality, are relaxed and replaced by new environmental demands, such as those associated with formal schooling. Accordingly, cross-cultural findings from the VOC surveys among younger generations, urban women, and women with higher education document a decreasing emphasis on obedience and conformity goals in the socialization of both boys and girls, together with increased stress on achievement and autonomy goals (Ka
gıt¸cıba¸sı and Ataca 2005). The most challenging part of the MFC is its central tenet that the modern family model of emotional interdependence constitutes an alternative pathway of modernization, which is not the same as westernization. Thus, the socialization of personal autonomy as agencyin-relatedness in the modern nonwestern model would differ from a predominant model of independence in the western world, where autonomy equals separateness or distance from others in interpersonal relations (Ka
gıt¸cıba¸sı 1989, 1996). Accordingly, cross-national value

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surveys show that the normative precedence of individual freedom and contractual relationships over family obligations and primary ties is mostly restricted to highly individualized societies like the US and the north-west of Europe (Inglehart and Norris 2003; Thornton and Young-DeMarco 2001). To recapitulate, the MFC opposes contrasting family models of material and emotional interdependence and independence across cultures. Turning to the migration context, many migrants come from lessdeveloped nonwestern backgrounds to economically advanced western societies, bringing with them family values that are far more conservative than host cultural values (cf. Farver et al. 2002; Nguyen and Williams 1989; Phinney and Vedder 2006). Their children are thus exposed to new visions of family values, which promote personal autonomy and egalitarian gender roles, as part of the dominant western culture of independence in the host society. The Turkish migration context thus differs from the context of modernization in Turkey, where the transition to an industrialized economy, the expansion of formal education, and the diffusion of urban lifestyles gave rise to new values and role models within Turkish culture and society (Ka
gıt¸cıba¸sı and Ataca 2005; _ Karakitapo
glu and Imamo
glu 1999; Phalet and Claeys 1993). In contrast, family change in Turkish migrant families is more exogenous, since it is induced at least in part by cross-cultural contact in the host society, where a western model of independence is the norm. By implication, value change and adaptive parenting in migrant families are moderated by the specificities of acculturative change in a migration context. As minority youth are being socialized into distinct cultures of separateness and relatedness, they are accommodating to different and sometimes conflicting value systems (Oyserman et al. 2002; Phalet and Hagendoorn 1996). By taking into account acculturative change, we aim to extend Ka
gıtc¸ ıba¸sı’s MFC to situations of cross-cultural contact. At the same time, the focus on family change complements the predominant emphasis on the acculturating individual in most acculturation studies (Berry 2002). Our central research question regards the degree and direction of intergenerational change in migrant families: is there cultural continuity or discontinuity in migrant families as compared with non-migrant families; and how resistant are specific aspects of parenting and family values to acculturative change? In terms of the MFC: are Turkish migrant families reaffirming a traditional model; are they moving toward a modern model of emotional interdependence; or, alternatively, are they turning to a western family model of independence?

Cultural continuity in Turkish migrant families

245

Acculturative change in migrant families When people migrate and cultures meet, the values, norms, and practices of acculturating persons or groups, in particular, are subject to change. Acculturation is the process of socio-cultural change that occurs whenever two or more cultures come into direct and sustained contact (Berry 2002). This is not necessarily a linear process in which the migrant gradually gives up the heritage culture and replaces it with the culture of the host society. Rather, it is a bi-dimensional process, in which migrants or minorities combine varying degrees of ethnic culture maintenance and cross-cultural contact (ibid.). Acculturative changes can take many forms, and value change from one generation to the next is one of these. Usually, mean difference scores are used to measure the gap between the values and acculturation orientations of parents and children (Kwak and Berry 2001; Phinney and Vedder 2006; Phinney et al. 2000; Sam and Virta 2003). Although acculturative shifts in the direction of host cultural values and norms are the most common finding, the direction of acculturative change is not predetermined. In the domain of family values, the children of migrant parents usually endorse traditional family values to a lesser extent than their parents, as they come to adopt more liberal host cultural values (Phinney and Flores 2002). Since migrant parents acculturate at a slower pace than their children, intergenerational value discrepancies tend to increase with length of residence in the host society (Nguyen and Williams 1989; Phinney et al. 2000). Similarly, when migrant and non-migrant families are compared, the largest intergenerational discrepancies are found between migrant parents and children (Kwak 2003). Other studies, however, find that traditional family values, such as filial piety and obedience to authority, are passed on to the second generation (Fuligni et al. 1999; Greenfield 1994). Some studies even report a reverse acculturative shift away from the host culture. Thus, Soviet Jewish refugee youth identify more strongly with the ethnic culture than their parents, in spite of higher levels of behavioral acculturation (Birman and Trickett 2001). Using representative data from the 2002 Netherlands Kinship Panel Study,1 Phalet and Haker (2004) examined the adherence of the second generation of Turkish origin to distinct family models of material and emotional interdependence versus independence, as compared with the older and younger first generations. Table 15.1 shows mean differences 1

Random samples of Turkish migrant families were surveyed in thirteen Dutch cities (N ¼ 2,111) Turkish-Dutch respondents aged eighteen and older in 1,092 households (Dagevos et al. 2003). Measures are described in the table notes.

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Karen Phalet and Derya G€ ung€ or

Table 15.1. Traditional and emotional interdependence in Turkish-Dutch migrant families: means (standard deviations) by generation and gender Older first Young first Second Older first Young first Second generation generation generation generation generation generation men men men women women women Family obligations (max ¼ 5) Traditional gender roles (max ¼ 5) Restricted autonomy for child (max ¼ 5) Traditional family model (max ¼ 7) Emotional closeness (max ¼ 5) Mutual contact (max ¼ 7) Mutual support (max ¼ 3) Total N ¼ 2111

3.99 (0.56)

3.85 (0.52)

3.84 (0.49)

3.96 (0.54)

3.88 (0.53)

3.84 (0.50)

2.88 (0.84)

2.67 (0.69)

2.52 (0.76)

2.76  (0.85)

2.48 (.78)

2.27 (0.61)

3.70 (0.67)

3.51 (0.65)

3.32 (0.66)

3.64 (0.68)

3.53 (.66)

3.38 (0.63)

3.90 (0.85)

3.70 (0.90)

3.59 (0.87)

3.78  (0.88)

3.66 (0.86)

3.21 (0.84)

4.29 (0.69)

4.18 (0.74)

4.20 (0.79)

4.30 (0.64)

4.29 (0.65)

4.38 (0.72)

4.40 (1.54)

4.54 (1.52)

5.09 (1.59)

4.17 (1.45)

4.40 (1.41)

5.99  (1.20)

1.83 (0.70)

1.90 (0.71)

1.85 (0.70)

1.86 (0.72)

1.79 (0.73)

1.85 (0.71)

N ¼ 487

N ¼ 369

N ¼ 251

N ¼ 442

N ¼ 347

N ¼ 215

Notes: 1 Family obligations (a ¼ 0.79, n ¼ 9), Traditional gender roles (a ¼ 0.74, n ¼ 5), Restricted autonomy for children (a ¼ 0.67, n ¼ 5), and Emotional closeness (a ¼ 0.80, n ¼ 2) scales were rated from (1) strongly disagree to (5) fully agree, with higher scores indicating more traditional family values. Preferences for a traditional family model were scored from (1) to (7), with (7) indicating the youngest ideal age for marriage and motherhood and the largest ideal family size. Self-reported frequencies of mutual contact ranged from (1) never to (7) daily (a ¼ 0.61, n ¼ 2). Self-reported giving and receiving of social support was rated (1) none, (2) once, or (3) several times in the last three months (a ¼ 0.79, n ¼ 4). 2 On the basis of ANOVA with gender and generations, significant differences between generations are marked with  (pairwise comparisons of means; p < 0.05); significant gender differences are italicized ( p < 0.05).

Cultural continuity in Turkish migrant families

247

in family values between generations for men and women and Table 15.2 reports the results of regression analyses. The aim of the analysis was threefold. First, the comparison between generations identifies the degree and nature of aggregate-level change in family models. Second, we examine to what extent family change – or resistance to change – is gendered. Third, we test competing explanations of family values in terms of the normative impact of higher education and religious socialization. Since the original study is available only in Dutch, this chapter provides a full report of its new and most relevant findings. In order to assess adherence to traditional interdependence as opposed to independence, Simultaneous Component Analysis (SCA) was carried out across migrant and non-migrant samples. Three distinct components were identified: “family obligations” (e.g., “adult children should look after their parents when they are ill”), “restricted autonomy for children” (e.g., “children should respect their parents’ authority even if they disagree with them”), and “traditional gender roles” (e.g., “education is more important for boys than for girls”). In addition, preferred ages for marriage and motherhood, and preferred number of children were used as measures of normative support for a traditional family model. Finally, separate measures of emotional interdependence were also included. SCA yielded distinct components measuring “emotional closeness” (e.g., “my family knows about important events in my life”), “mutual social support” (e.g., giving and receiving advice), and “contact” (e.g., visiting or calling) between parents and adult children. Overall, Turkish-Dutch families converged on the conservative side of the value spectrum, except for the gender role values. They had thus become more egalitarian young women (see Table 15.1). In line with an expected normative shift away from a traditional family model, the younger generations, and in particular the second generation, were less strongly committed to traditional family values and norms than the older first generation. Specifically, significant main effects of generation were found on family obligations ( p < 0.01), gender roles ( p < 0.0001), restricted autonomy ( p < 0.0001), family model ( p < 0.0001), and mutual contact ( p < 0.0001). In addition, women were significantly less conservative than men in their gender role values ( p < 0.0001); they also preferred to marry and have their first child at a later age and wanted to have fewer children than men ( p < 0.001). In their attitudes toward family obligations and parental authority, however, they did not differ from men. Next, we examined the explanatory role of educational opportunities and religious socialization as predictors of traditional family values. In multiple regressions with gender, generational status, educational attainment, and religious attachment and practice as predictors, most

248 0.13**** 0.10** 0.09**  0.11**** 0.12**** 0.10***  0.09** 0.32**** R2 ¼ 0. 23

0.03 0.01 0.10** 

0.03 0.05* 0.01 

0.06 0.29****

R2 ¼ 0.12

Gender Generation Second gen First young First old

Education Tertiary Full sec Low sec Primary

Religion Practice Attachm Explained variance (R2) R2 ¼ 0.26

0.06* 0.41****

0.09*** 0.10*** 0.03 

0.04 0.10** 0.06* 

R2 ¼ 0.20

0.12**** 0.29****

0.10**** 0.11**** 0.10** 

0.11**** 0.08* 0.03 

Restricted autonomy for Traditional child family model

Note: Significance levels: * p < 0.05; ** p < 0.01; *** p < 0.001; **** p < 0.0001.

Traditional gender roles

Family obligations

R2 ¼ 0.02

0.04 0.07

0.07* 0.02 0.06 

0.06 0.00 0.05 

Emotional closeness

R2¼ 0.01

0.07 0.07

0.03 0.01 0.01 

0.02 0.29**** 0.10*** 

Mutual contact

Table 15.2. Effects of generation, gender, education, and religion on Turkish-Dutch family models: standardized regression coefficients

R2¼ 0.01

0.08* 0.06

0.05 0.00 0.01 

0.01 0.07 0.05 

Mutual support

Cultural continuity in Turkish migrant families

249

variation was explained by the opposing influences of two powerful socializing institutions: education and religion (see Table 15.2). Whereas higher education predicted a weaker commitment to traditional interdependence, religious attachment reinforced traditional family values. Specifically, the transition to full secondary or higher education marked significant shifts toward modern preferences for later marriage and fewer children, less binding family obligations, more autonomy for children, and more gender equality. Moreover, generation differences were significantly reduced when education and religion were added to the models. Thus, both schooling and religious socialization were revealed as key mediating mechanisms of family change. As compared with the older first generation in particular, the second generation more often makes the transition to higher secondary and tertiary levels of education. To conclude, value change is mainly driven by educational attainment. Conversely, the continuing religious attachment of the younger generation constitutes a strong countervailing force (Phalet and G€ ung€ or 2004). Typically, the traditional model resists acculturative change in families with less education and/or a strong religious orientation. Another important question we asked was whether a decline in the support for traditional interdependence with increasing levels of education goes together with continued or enhanced emotional interdependence, as predicted by the MFC, or whether interdependence is replaced by normative independence. Overall, Turkish-Dutch families strongly endorsed emotional interdependence between adult family members, as evident from close affective ties and regular mutual contact and social support. Perhaps our most revealing finding was a negative one: there was no significant decline in emotional interdependence from one generation to the next. The only significant difference went in the opposite direction: most contact was reported between second-generation adult daughters and their parents. Moreover, the impact of education and religion on emotional closeness within Turkish-Dutch families was negligible. This finding of continuing or even enhanced emotional interdependence in the second generation is in line with expectations from the MFC, which contradict an alleged acculturative shift toward a dominant model of independence in the host society. In particular, those with higher education were not less close emotionally to their parents and family than the less educated. Similarly, the high value attached to emotional closeness in Turkish migrant families did not depend on religious socialization. In sum, the analyses show most change away from traditional interdependence among the higher educated and in less religious families.

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At the same time, the traditional model persists among families with low levels of education and with a strong religious orientation. Although Turkish-Dutch women are less committed to traditional gender roles than men, men and women equally endorse traditional views of parental authority and intergenerational obligations. Importantly, the selective move away from a traditional family model does not imply the adoption of an alleged model of independence in the host society. Indeed, the higher educated are not less committed than the majority of lowereducated Turkish-Dutch to the emotional closeness of adult children to their parents. Cross-cultural comparisons with similar measures should reveal to what extent emotional interdependence is more universally valued than the opposed models of material interdependence and independence (Ka
gıtc¸ ıba¸sı 2007). Cultural transmission in migrant families A parallel line of research on value transmission asks the question of when and how migrant families succeed in passing on a traditional family model to the next generation. Value continuity from one generation to the next is attributed, at least in part, to value transmission within the family (Rohan and Zanna 1996). More generally, the concept of cultural transmission refers to the ways in which cultural groups perpetuate distinctive behavioral features through processes of socialization and enculturation (Berry et al. 2002). Enculturation indicates the largely unreflective and unintentional absorption of cultural values, norms, and customs through social modeling, observation, and participation in daily routines. Enculturation is complemented by socialization, or the explicit teaching and goal-directed training of culturally valued norms and behaviors. Cultural transmission is a dynamic process, which leads to varying degrees of value continuity and adaptive change in a new environment. From a contextual perspective on child development (Ka
gıtc¸ ıba¸sı 1989), children are also influenced by interactions with peers and other adults outside the family. In particular, migrant families are embedded in a surrounding cultural environment that differs from the parents’ heritage culture. Berry et al. (2002) distinguish vertical transmission from parents to children from horizontal and oblique paths of transmission in cross-cultural interactions with peers and adults other than the parents. Whereas traditional family values are passed on mainly through vertical transmission from migrant parents to children, alternate visions of values enter the family through oblique or horizontal transmission in schools or in informal contacts with adult or peer role models in the host society. As distinct from acculturation research, which

Cultural continuity in Turkish migrant families

251

focuses on value change, transmission research is primarily concerned with value continuity between parents and children (Rohan and Zanna 1996; Whitebeck and Gecas 1988). Typically, transmission studies examine value similarity between parent and child in terms of the correlation between parental and filial values in parent–child dyads. High positive correlations are seen as evidence of the effective transmission of parental values. Interestingly, the few studies of cultural transmission that examine the socialization of values in migrant families document significant or even enhanced continuity in the values of migrant children (Knafo and Schwartz 2001; Nauck 1989; Sch€ onpflug 2001). In the domain of family values, for example, Nauck (2001) finds more intense transmission in Turkish-German migrant families than in non-migrant families in Turkey, as Turkish migrant parents appear to be especially motivated to preserve and pass on a traditional family model. In their first study, Phalet and Sch€ onpflug (2001a) replicated the cultural continuity of traditional interdependence values in TurkishGerman families. Male and female dyads of parents and their adolescent children indicated whether they agreed or disagreed with traditional family values pertaining to gender roles and intergenerational obligations (e.g., “adult children should look after old-aged parents” or “unmarried children should live with their parents”). We found that family values were effectively transmitted from Turkish migrant parents to their children: Turkish-German adolescents whose parents were more traditional were themselves more attached to a traditional family model than children whose parents were less traditional. Moreover, value transmission was mediated by parental conformity pressure, so that transmission was most effective when parents stressed conformity goals, such as obedience, rather than autonomy goals, such as an independent mind, in the socialization of their adolescent children. The latter finding suggests the goal-directed transmission of traditional interdependence in TurkishGerman migrant families, as opposed to a western model of independence in the host society. Finally, the effective and goal-directed transmission of traditional family values was also replicated in a follow-up study among Turkish-Dutch migrant families (Phalet and Sch€ onpflug 2001b). Importantly, the transmission coefficient remained positive and significant after taking into account parental education and the educational attainment of their children. This implies that between-family differences in educational resources and opportunities cannot fully explain within-family value similarity. Moreover, parental socialization goals were related in the expected way to the value orientations of the children. Taken together, our studies suggest the effective and purposive socialization of traditional family values in the migration situation.

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Value acculturation and value transmission How can we reconcile findings of acculturative change – for example, in gender role values – with seemingly contradictory findings of cultural continuity in a migration context? The way of measuring value change in acculturation studies does not allow inferences about the strength of intergenerational transmission. As Nauck (1989) pointed out, evidence of aggregate-level value change is often misinterpreted as indicating the failure of intergenerational transmission. Yet, mean value differences between generations in acculturation studies, and correlations of values within families in transmission studies, carry different information. Thus, strong value transmission can go together with a significant acculturative shift at the aggregate level. Effective value transmission implies that the children of more traditional migrant parents should be more conservative than the children of less traditional parents. At the same time, value acculturation signifies a collective shift in the values of the next generation, most likely in the direction of more liberal family values in the host society. In the migration context, simultaneous cultural transmission and acculturative change should result in significant correlations and mean differences between the family values of migrant parents and their adolescent children. Alternatively, in non-migrant families, values can be maintained across generations at the aggregate level in the absence of significant transmission from parent to child. In the latter case, neither the correlation nor the mean difference between the family values of parents and their children is significant. This alternative pattern of cultural continuity without vertical transmission is most likely when influential socializing agents or institutions outside the family support the transmission of cultural values from one generation to the next. More generally, parents and children may have similar value orientations without direct transmission, because, as a family, they share a common socio-cultural environment and socio-economic status (Bengtson 1975; Bengtson and Dunham 1986). For this reason, intergenerational discrepancies in non-migrant families can be minor or negligible, even in the absence of effective value transmission from parents to children. In their study of changing gender role values, Idema and Phalet (2007) examined both acculturative change between generations and value transmission within Turkish-German families.2 The traditional 2

The study analyzes data from a major survey among migrant families in Germany, which includes a Turkish migrant sample of 205 adolescent boys and their fathers and 200 adolescent girls and their mothers (Nauck 2000).

Cultural continuity in Turkish migrant families

253

Table 15.3. Egalitarian gender-role values in Turkish-German migrant families: value discrepancies across gender and generations

Parental values: means (SD) Mother–daughter dyads 3.01 (0.71) Father–son dyads 2.82 (0.63) Gender discrepancies: NS independent-samples t-test

Filial values: means (SD) 3.11 (0.65) 2.91 (0.67) 4.68 ( p < 0.001)

Intergenerational discrepancies: paired-samples t-test 2.06 ( p < 0.05) NS

Notes: Gender-role values were measured by a short form of the SRO scale (Sex Role Orientations; cf. Brogan and Kutner 1976), with acceptable reliabilities in our migrant samples (a ¼ 0.70 for children and 0.69 for parents, n ¼ 5). Response categories ranged from (1) totally disagree to (5) totally agree. Higher scores indicate more egalitarian values. NS ¼ non-significant.

family model attributes inferior intra-familial status to women and draws a clear line between male and female roles and tasks, with women being expected to look after the home and children and men being responsible for the family income and reputation in the outside world (Ka
gıtc¸ ıba¸sı 1982a). In the study, parents and their adolescent children rated their gender role values (e.g., “In case of disagreement, the husband should always decide” and “A husband’s task is to earn money and a wife’s task is to look after the home and the family”). Specifically, we asked to what extent migrant parents pass on their gender role values to their children, and to what extent adolescent values reflect more egalitarian gender roles of the host society. According to the MFC, socio-economic advancement and educational opportunities should enable the transition from a traditional to a modern model of interdependence that assigns more equal status to women. Looking across genders and generations, moderately conservative gender role values were in line with a predominant traditional family model in Turkish migrant families (see Table 15.3). Comparing mean values between generations, there was evidence of the expected acculturative change on the female side, but not on the male side of the family (see Table 15.3). Adolescent girls held significantly more egalitarian gender role values than their mothers. Yet, adolescent boys were not less conservative than their fathers. The egalitarian shift among daughters of Turkish migrants is originating a new gender gap in the second generation. Whereas migrant mothers and fathers did not significantly differ in their gender role values, their daughters and sons did. Most notably, relatively egalitarian second-generation women

254

Karen Phalet and Derya G€ ung€ or

differed both from their mothers and from their brothers. The greater resistance of male gender role values to acculturative change is commonly explained by the gendered nature of traditional family systems. As boys are expected to take care of their aged parents in the future, there is most conformity pressure on boys (Phalet and Sch€ onpflug 2001a). Moreover, it seems likely that the acculturation process is also gendered, since migrant women have the most to gain from egalitarian gender role values in the host society, in terms of improving their status. Next, we estimated value transmission within parent–child dyads in stepwise multiple regressions with parental education in step 1 and parental values in step 2. The models revealed distinct patterns of value transmission for male and female dyads. On the female side, gender-role values were directly transmitted from mother to daughter: more egalitarian mothers had more egalitarian daughters, and more conservative mothers had more conservative daughters. Yet, no significant value transmission occurred from father to son. Lastly, and in line with the MFC, education was related to the socialization of more egalitarian gender-role values. The way in which parental education influenced the values of the next generation was mediated through parents’ own values. Thus, parents, and in particular mothers, who had at least completed full secondary education were more in favor of gender equality. In addition, the education of the mother also contributed directly to more egalitarian gender-role values in the next generation, so that highly educated mothers were more effective egalitarian role models for their daughters than mothers with low education. Arguably, highly qualified mothers are most committed to egalitarian gender roles in their own professional and family life, thus providing their daughters with a consistent and attractive female role model. We conclude that education has both direct and indirect impacts on the next generation, through mutually reinforcing maternal values and role models. To summarize, this study examines value transmission and acculturation within migrant families by combining the information from correlations and mean differences between generations. On the female side of migrant families, effective value transmission from mothers to daughters goes together with acculturative change toward more egalitarian values in daughters. On the male side, in contrast, cultural continuity is achieved in the absence of direct vertical transmission from father to son. Apparently, the socialization of conservative family values in men is mainly due to common socio-cultural conditions outside the family system (Bengtson and Dunham 1986). Possibly, migrant boys are reaffirming ethnic cultural values as a source of status and collective self-esteem in the migration situation (Idema and Phalet 2007; see also

Cultural continuity in Turkish migrant families

255

Phalet and G€ ung€ or 2004). Clearly, more research is needed on the role of intercultural relations in the socialization of adolescent values. The role of parenting in migrant families One way to articulate the key role of the family in enabling cultural continuity or change is to study parenting in acculturating families. The parenting practices of migrant parents, and the way they are experienced by their children, play an important role in the transmission of values (Grusec et al. 2000; Rudy and Grusec 2001). First, parenting beliefs and practices directly inform the values of the children. Thus, authoritarian parenting styles communicate and model hierarchical values in a traditional family model (Ka
gıtc¸ ıba¸sı 1996). Second, certain parenting practices better support value transmission across cultures, while other practices interfere with the transmission process. For instance, the lack of parental warmth or empathy is associated with reduced transmission across value domains (Sch€ onpflug 2001). As seen from Cashmore and Goodnow’s (1985) two-process approach of value transmission, effective transmission would require, first, that children accurately perceive their parents’ values and, second, that they willingly accept these values as their own. Parenting beliefs and practices affect both processes. Thus, a cold and rejecting parenting style will interfere with the acceptance of parental values by the child, since imposed values are not fully internalized and integrated into a coherent personal value system (Grusec et al. 2000). Moreover, value-congruent parenting practices will enhance the accurate perception of parental values by the child, which is required for effective transmission (Knafo and Schwartz 2001). Accordingly, traditional family values are most effectively conveyed by value-congruent socialization goals, stressing conformity and obedience in children (Phalet and Sch€ onpflug 2001a, 2001b). Looking beyond parental goals, self-reported parenting styles vary along distinct dimensions of parental warmth and control (Maccoby and Martin 1983). Warmth refers to the degree of acceptance, responsiveness, and emotional closeness between parent and child. Parental control is narrowly defined as being demanding and restrictive, with a focus on behavioral compliance. Thus, an authoritarian style combines higher levels of control with less warmth, as opposed to an indulgent style, which pairs more warmth with lower levels of control. Interestingly, Baumrind (1989) identified a traditional parenting style, which is characterized by a gendered division of tasks, with a distant, authoritarian father and a warm, indulgent mother. In line with the traditional pattern, adolescents in Turkey were found to perceive more frequent

256

Karen Phalet and Derya G€ ung€ or

indulgent as well as authoritarian parenting (S€ umer and G€ ung€ or 1999). Applying the MFC to parenting in migrant families, a key question concerns the continuity or discontinuity of traditional parenting styles. On the one hand, the notion of adaptive parenting implies that migrant parents socialize their children for competence in the new environment of the host society (Le Vine 1977). On the other hand, there is evidence of traditional parenting practices that persist in a migration context (Bornstein and Cote 2001). In a recent cross-cultural study, G€ ung€ or (2008) compared perceived parenting styles by Turkish-Belgian adolescents with the perceptions of high- and low-SES adolescents in Turkey and in Belgium, using the Parenting Styles Scale (S€ umer and G€ ung€ or 1999). The aim of the comparative study was to explore the cultural meaning of parental authority and to find out whether migrant families move in the direction of relatively permissive parenting styles in Belgium, or whether they reaffirm a traditional Turkish parenting style. After controlling for parental education and age of the adolescent, perceived parenting in Turkish migrant families was found to differ significantly from perceived parenting in both home and host countries. In accordance with a traditional authoritarian-indulgent style of parenting, Turkish migrant parents were perceived as both most controlling and most warm. Specifically, they were seen as warmer and more controlling than both Belgian parents and Turkish parents in Turkey. Cultural discrepancies in paternal control in particular were significant and large, with most restrictive control being attributed to Turkish migrant fathers. Discrepancies in perceived warmth, however, were small, as expected in light of the universal adaptive value of parental warmth. To investigate further the cultural meaning of parental control, perceptions of control were correlated with perceived warmth, satisfaction with one’s relationship with parents, and self-esteem. The pattern of correlations revealed a distinct cultural meaning of parental control, especially the authority of the father, in the Turkish-Belgian migrant group. Only in this group were perceived control and warmth of the father unrelated. In contrast, non-migrants in Turkey and in Belgium perceived relatively authoritarian fathers as less warm. Moreover, Belgian adolescents who perceived a high level of control were less satisfied with their relationship with parents and had lower self-esteem. Yet, Turkish adolescents did not show these negative associations. In line with a cultural norm of authoritarianism (Ka
gıtc¸ ıba¸sı 1970), they appear to accept restrictive parental control as part of a warm and supportive relationship. We conclude that traditional parenting practices are accentuated rather than attenuated in the process of acculturation.

Cultural continuity in Turkish migrant families

257

Conclusion: cultural continuity and discontinuity To summarize, parallel but separate research streams on value transmission and acculturation in migrant families differ in their emphasis on cultural continuity versus discontinuity. Acculturation studies stress acculturative change as a consequence of the exposure to alternate visions of values in the host society. Conversely, transmission research highlights the persistence of traditional parenting and family values. Most Turkish migrants have been recruited from the more traditional, rural, and less educated segments of the Turkish population and they have brought with them their traditional family values. Consequently, the children of Turkish migrants are confronted with very different family models in the contexts of heritage and host cultures. Our research builds on Ka
gıtc¸ ıba¸sı’s MFC with a view to improving our understanding of cultural continuity and discontinuity in acculturating families. The MFC explains changing family systems in modernizing cultures of relatedness, where the emphasis is predicted to shift toward values and parenting practices that support personal autonomy along with relatedness between family members. The development of autonomy should be adaptive for meeting new challenges and demands that come with modernization. At the same time, interpersonal relatedness should continue to be highly valued and take on new forms that are compatible with modern lifestyles. Accordingly, urban middle class families in Turkey typically value autonomy-in-relatedness. As distinct from urban families in Turkey, however, Turkish migrant families are exposed to new values and norms as part of a culturally different family model of independence in the host society. This raises the question of whether Turkish migrant families make the transition toward a model of emotional interdependence, in line with the MFC, or whether they are caught between conflicting models of independence versus traditional interdependence. From the perspective of value acculturation, our studies among Turkish migrant families show a predominant traditional family model under pressure. In spite of acculturative shifts away from material interdependence and toward more egalitarian gender roles, the family values of the second generation clearly fall on the conservative side of the value spectrum. Most value change was found for the higher educated and the less religious among the younger generations. In line with the MFC, family change is mainly driven by educational progress from one generation to the next. Most importantly, acculturative change is not synonymous with the adoption of an alleged western model of independence in the host country. As predicted by the MFC, the younger

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generations continue to value interdependence. Across generations and levels of education, we find evidence of close affective ties as well as regular contacts between Turkish migrant parents and their adult children. While new values enter the family system through the door of educational aspirations and attainment, religion constitutes a countervailing force, which women in particular have to negotiate if they are to move ahead in society. Taking a complementary perspective from value transmission, our main finding is again the cultural continuity of a traditional family model. Thus, our findings document the effective transmission of traditional family values in Turkish migrant families (Idema and Phalet 2007; Phalet and Sch€ onpflug 2001a, 2001b). Moreover, the transmission of family values is mediated by parental conformity pressure. Mediation suggests the purposive socialization of a traditional family model with respect to intergenerational obligations and normative gender roles. In addition, the studies reveal the gendered nature of family change in the migration context, with more value transmission and more acculturative change on the female side of the family system. Thus, the effective transmission of gender role values from mother to daughter is coupled with an overall shift toward more egalitarian values in daughters. On the male side of Turkish migrant families, no significant value transmission is found, although sons on average were as conservative as their fathers. The latter pattern of cultural continuity in the absence of value transmission points to normative influences outside the family that reinforce traditional values in Turkish men. Finally, traditional parenting practices, and in particular the traditional meaning of paternal authority, were also found to resist acculturative change. This is the main finding of a cross-cultural study comparing perceived parenting styles between Turkish-Belgian adolescents and non-migrant adolescents in Turkey and Belgium (G€ ung€ or 2008). The double comparison clearly shows the accentuation of traditional parenting styles in Turkish migrant families, centering on an authoritarian father figure and coupling rigid authoritarian control with a warm and close relationship. Whereas restrictive control is negatively associated with a warm and satisfying relationship in the perceptions of non-migrant adolescents, perceived control and warmth are orthogonal in Turkish migrant families. Taken together, the findings of the cross-cultural studies reported in this chapter show that the traditional family model largely resists acculturative change among a majority of lower educated and religious Turkish migrant families in Belgium, the Netherlands, and Germany. A key question for future research concerns the implications of the

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continued socialization of traditional family values for the psychosocial development of acculturating adolescents. While traditional parenting and family values may contribute to intergenerational harmony and solidarity in migrant families (Kwak 2003), there may be major opportunity costs, not only in terms of socio-economic advancement in the host society, but also in terms of healthy and competent human development. If we accept that autonomy and relatedness are basic human needs, the balanced satisfaction of these needs leads to optimal development (Ka
gıt¸cıba¸sı 2007); however, increased conformity pressure in migrant families appears to complicate the balancing of autonomy and relatedness needs by Turkish adolescents (G€ ung€ or 2007; G€ ung€ or et al. 2007). More research is needed on acculturation processes at the level of the family, with a view to enabling the healthy development of personal autonomy-in-relatedness. references N. Abadan-Unat, “The effect of international migration on women’s roles,” in C. ¸ Ka
gıt¸cıba¸sı (ed.), Sex Roles, Family and Community in Turkey (Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1982). B. Ataca, “Turkey,” in J. Georgas, J. W. Berry, F. van de Vijver, C. ¸ Ka
gıtc¸ ıba¸sı, and Y. H. Poortinga (eds.), Families across Cultures (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2006), pp. 467–74. D. Baumrind, “Rearing competent children,” in W. Damon (ed.), New Directions for Child Development (San Fransisco, CA: Jossey Bass, 1989). V. L. Bengtson, “Generation and family effects in value socialization,” American Sociological Review, 40 (1975) 358–71. V. L. Bengtson and C. C. Dunham, “Attitude similarity in three-generation families: Socialization, status inheritance or reciprocal influence?,” American Sociological Review, 51 (1986), 685–98. J. W. Berry, “Conceptual approaches to acculturation,” in K. M. Chun, P. B. Organista, and G. Marin (eds.), Acculturation in Theory, Measurement and Applied Research (Washington, DC: American Psychological Association, 2002), pp. 17–37. J. W. Berry, Y. H. Poortinga, M. H. Segall, and P. R. Dasen, Cross-cultural Psychology: Research and Applications, Second edition (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2002). D. Birman and E. J. Trickett, “Cultural transitions in first-generation immigrants: Acculturation of Soviet Jewish refugee adolescents and parents,” Journal of Cross-Cultural Psychology, 32 (2001), 456–77. M. H. Bornstein and L. R. Cote, “Mother–infant interaction and acculturation: I. Behavioral comparisons in Japanese American and South American families,” International Journal of Behavioral Development, 25 (2001), 549–63. D. Brogan and N. G. Kutner, “Measuring sex-role orientation: A normative approach,” Journal of Marriage and Family, 38 (1976), 31–9.

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J. A. Cashmore and J. J. Goodnow, “Agreement between generations: A twoprocess approach,” Child Development, 56 (1985), 493–501. J. Dagevos, M. Gijsberts, and C. van Praag, Rapportage Minderheden 2003 [ Minorities Report] (The Hague: SCP, 2003). J. A. Farver, B. R. Bhadha, and S. K. Narang, “East meets West: Ethnic identity, acculturation and conflict in Asian Indian families,” Journal of Family Psychology, 16 (2002), 338–50. A. Fuligni, V. Tseng, and M. Lam, “Attitudes towards family obligations among American adolescents from Mexican, Chinese, Filipino and European backgrounds,” Child Development, 70 (1999), 1030–44. P. M. Greenfield, “Independence and interdependence as developmental scripts,” in P. M. Greenfield and R. R. Cocking (eds.), Cross-cultural Roots of Minority Child Development (New York: Lawrence Erlbaum, 1994), pp. 1–37. J. E. Grusec, J. J. Goodnow, and L. Kuczynski, “New directions in the analysis of parenting contributions to children’s acquisition of values,” Child Development, 71 (2000), 205–11. D. G€ ung€ or, “The interplay between values, acculturation and adaptation: A study of Turkish-Belgian adolescents,” International Journal of Psychology, 42 (2007), 380–92. D. G€ ung€ or, “Meaning of parental control across migrant, sending and host communities: Adaption or Persistence?,” Applied Psychology, 57 (2008), 397–416. D. G€ ung€ or, C. ¸ Ka
gıt¸cıba¸sı, and K. Phalet, Values, Intercultural Relations and Acculturation among Turkish Migrant Youth in Belgium ( Istanbul: MiReKoc Research Report, 2007). H. Idema and K. Phalet, “Transmission of gender role values in Turkish-German migrant families,” Zeitschrift f€ ur Familienforschung, 19 (2007), 71–105. _ E. O. Imamo
glu, “Individuation and relatedness: Not opposing but distinct and complementary,” Genetic, Social and General Psychology Monographs, 129 (2003), 367–402. R. Inglehart and P. Norris, Rising Tide: Gender Equality and Cultural Change around the World (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2003). C. ¸ Ka
gıt¸cıba¸sı, “Social norms and authoritarianism: A Turkish-American comparison,” Journal of Personality and Social Psychology, 16 (1970), 444–51. C. ¸ Ka
gıt¸cıba¸sı (ed.), Sex Roles, Family and Community in Turkey (Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1982a). C. ¸ Ka
gıtc¸ ıba¸sı, “Old age security value of children: Cross-cultural socio-economic evidence,” Journal of Cross-Cultural Psychology, 13 (1982b), 29–42. C. ¸ Ka
gıt¸cıba¸sı, “Family and socialization in cross-cultural perspective: A model of change,” in J. Berman (ed.), Cross-cultural Perspectives: Nebraska Symposium on Motivation (Nebraska: Nebraska University Press, 1989), pp. 135–200. C. ¸ Ka
gıt¸cıba¸sı, Family and Human Development across Cultures: A View from the Other Side (Hillsdale, NJ: Lawrence Erlbaum, 1996). C. ¸ Ka
gıt¸cıba¸sı, “Autonomy and relatedness in cultural context: Implications for self and family,” Journal of Cross-Cultural Psychology, 20 (2005), 1–20. C. ¸ Ka
gıtc¸ ıba¸sı, Family, Self and Human Development across Cultures: Theory and Applications (Hillsdale, NJ: Lawrence Erlbaum, 2007).

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C. ¸ Ka
gıtc¸ ıba¸sı and B. Ataca, “Value of children and family change: A threedecade portrait from Turkey,” Applied Psychology, 54 (2005), 317–37. _ C. ¸ Karakitapo
glu and E. O. Imamo
glu, “Value preferences from the 1970s to 1990s: Cohort, generation and gender differences at a Turkish university,” Turkish Journal of Psychology, 14 (1999), 1–22. A. Knafo and S. H. Schwartz, “Value socialization in families of Israeli-born and Soviet-born adolescents in Israel,” Journal of Cross-Cultural Psychology, 32 (2001), 213–28. K. Kwak, “Adolescents and their parents: A review of intergenerational family relations for immigrant and non-immigrant families,” Human Development, 45 (2003), 115–36. K. Kwak and J. W. Berry, “Generational differences in acculturation among Asian families in Canada,” International Journal of Psychology, 36 (2001), 152–62. R. A. Le Vine, “Child rearing as cultural adaptation,” in H. P. Leiderman, S. R. Tulkin, and A. Rosenfeld (eds.), Culture and Infancy: Variations in the Human Experience (New York: Academic Press, 1977), pp. 15–27. E. Maccoby and J. Martin, “Socialization in the context of the family: Parent– child interaction,” in E. M. Hetherington (ed.) and P. H. Mussen (Series ed.), Handbook of Child Psychology. Volume 4. Socialization, Personality and Social Development (New York: Wiley, 1983), pp. 1–101. B. Nauck, “Intergenerational relationships in families from Turkey and Germany,” European Sociological Review, 5 (1989), 251–74. B. Nauck, “Eltern–Kind Beziehungen in Migrantenfamilien,” Empirische Beitr€ age zur Familienentwicklung und Akkulturation. Familienbericht 6, Band 1 [Empirical contributions to family development and acculturation. Family Report 6, Vol 1] (Opladen: Leske & Budrich, 2000), pp. 347–92. B. Nauck, “Intercultural contact and intergenerational transmission in immigrant families,” Journal of Cross-Cultural Psychology, 32 (2001), 320–31. N. Nguyen and H. L. Williams, “Transition from East to West: Vietnamese adolescents and their parents,” Journal of the American Academy of Child and Adolescent Psychiatry, 28 (1989), 505–15. D. Oyserman, H. Coon, and M. Kemmelmeier, “Rethinking individualism and collectivism: Evaluation of theoretical assumptions and meta-analysis,” Psychological Bulletin, 128 (2002), 3–73. K. Phalet, “Down and out: The children of migrant workers in the Belgian labour market,” in A. Heath and S.-Y. Cheung (eds.), Unequal Chances: Ethnic Minorities in Western Labour Markets (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2007), pp. 143–80. K. Phalet and W. Claeys, “A comparative study of Turkish and Belgian youth,” Journal of Cross-Cultural Psychology, 24 (1993), 319–43. K. Phalet and D. G€ ung€ or, Moslim in Nederland, Deel III, Religie, etnische relaties en burgerschap burgerschap [ Being Muslim in the Netherlands, Vol. 3, Religion, Ethnic Relations and Citizenship] (The Hague: SCP, 2004), pp. 7–36. K. Phalet and L. Hagendoorn, “Personal adjustment to acculturative transitions: The Turkish experience,” International Journal of Psychology, 31 (1996), 131–44.

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K. Phalet and F. Haker, Moslim in Nederland, Deel II, Religie, familiewaarden en binding [ Being Muslim in the Netherlands, Vol. 2, Religion, Values and Family Ties] (The Hague: SCP, 2004), pp. 43–61. K. Phalet and U. Sch€ onpflug, “Intergenerational transmission in Turkish immigrant families,” Journal of Comparative Family Studies, 32 (2001a), 489–504. K. Phalet and U. Sch€ onpflug, “Intergenerational transmission of collectivism and achievement values in two acculturating contexts,” Journal of CrossCultural Psychology, 32 (2001b), 186–210. K. Phalet, P. Deboosere, and V. Bastiaenssen, “Old and new educational inequalities: Ethnic minorities in the Belgian Census 1991–2001,” Ethnicities, 7 (2007), 306–22. J. S. Phinney and J. Flores, “‘Unpacking’ acculturation: Aspects of acculturation as predictors of traditional sex-role attitudes,” Journal of Cross-Cultural Psychology, 33 (2002), 320–31. J. S. Phinney and P. Vedder, “Family relationships of adolescents and parents: Intergenerational discrepancies and adaptation,” in J. W. Berry, J. S. Phinney, D. L. Sam, and P. Vedder (eds.), Immigrant Youth in Cultural Transition (Hillsdale, NJ: Lawrence Erlbaum, 2006), pp. 167–84. J. S. Phinney, A. Ong, and T. Maden, “Cultural values and intergenerational value discrepancies in immigrant and non-immigrant families,” Child Development, 71 (2000), 528–39. M. J. Rohan and M. P. Zanna, “Value transmission in families,” in C. Seligman, J. M. Olson, and M. P. Zanna (eds.), The Psychology of Values: The Ontario Symposium, Volume 8 (Hillsdale, NJ: Lawrence Erlbaum, 1996), pp. 253–76. D. Rudy and J. E. Grusec, “Correlates of authoritarian parenting in individualist and collectivist cultures and implications for understanding the transmission of values,” Journal of Cross-Cultural Psychology, 32 (2001), 202–12. D. Sam and E. Virta, “Intergenerational value discrepancies in immigrant and host-national families, and their impact on psychological adaptation,” Journal of Adolescence, 26 (2003), 213–31. U. Sch€ onpflug, “Intergenerational transmission,” Journal of Cross-Cultural Psychology, 32 (2001), 174–85. N. S€ umer and D. G€ ung€ or, “The impact of perceived parenting styles on attachment styles, self-evaluations and close relationships,” Turkish Journal of Psychology, 14 (1999), 35–58. A. Thornton and L. Young-Demarco, “Four decades of trends in attitudes towards family issues in the US,” Journal of Marriage and the Family, 63 (2001), 1009–37. G. Trommsdorff and B. Nauck (eds.), The Value of Children in Cross-cultural Perspective: Case Studies from Eight Societies (Lengerich/Berlin: Pabst Science, 2005). L. B. Whitebeck and V. Gecas, “Value attributions and value transmission between parents and children,” Journal of Marriage and the Family, 50 (1988), 829–40.

16

Values and attitudes of young people in urban Turkey: A further test of Schwartz’s theory of values and Ka
gıt¸cıba¸sı’s Model of Family Change Hale Bolak Boratav

My relationship to Ci
¸ gdem Ka
gıtc¸ ıba¸sı dates back to the 1970s when I was an undergraduate at Bo
gazic¸ i University. It was her passion for a culturally sensitive psychology that inspired me to major in Psychology and to pursue a doctoral degree in the US. Having the privilege to be mentored by her as her teaching assistant and later her research assistant in the Value of Children project were invaluable experiences for which I am very grateful. Although her influence on my work is multilayered, her overarching concern with shifting the focus in mainstream psychology and her sense of social responsibility stand out as the most important ones. This current chapter is most closely influenced by her interest and work in the areas of family and values.

The concept of values has long been of key interest to scholars from different disciplines. Extending the work of previous theorists, Schwartz has presented a view of values as “the criteria people use to select and justify actions and to evaluate people (including the self) and events” (Schwartz 1992: 1). Through cross-cultural research in more than seventy countries, including Turkey, Schwartz (1992, 1994) has identified and uncovered ten motivationally distinct value constructs that are universally recognized: power (authority, wealth), achievement (success, ambition), hedonism (pleasure), stimulation (exciting life), self-direction (creativity, freedom), universalism (social justice, equality), benevolence (helpfulness), tradition (humility, devoutness), conformity (obedience), and security (social order). The content of these basic values derives from the three universal goals that people in all societies must pursue: needs of biological organism (e.g., hedonism), demands of social interaction (e.g., achievement), and requirements for group survival (e.g., security). The ten value types are organized in a circumplex structure and form a motivational continuum such that the motivational goals of adjacent values (e.g., conformity and security) are compatible and the motivational goals of distant values (e.g., power and benevolence) are 263

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antagonistic. The relationships among these basic value types can be summarized in terms of four higher order value types that form two basic bipolar dimensions: openness to change (stimulation and self-direction) versus conservation (conformity, tradition, and security), and selfenhancement (achievement and power) versus self-transcendence (benevolence and universalism). Hedonism lies between achievement and stimulation. The postulated circumplex structure has been formally tested and validated through confirmatory factor analysis (Schwartz and Boehnke 2004). In the past decade, this theory has guided much research on various aspects of values. Based on the Schwartz Value Survey (SVS) composed of single-value items, broad pan-cultural agreement has been demonstrated regarding the hierarchical order of values (Schwartz and Bardi 2001). Using either the SVS or Schwartz’s more recently developed instrument, the Portrait Values Questionnaire (PVQ; Schwartz et al. 2001) based on short verbal portraits of different people, researchers have addressed the question of how the value priorities of individuals relate to a range of background, personality, attitudinal, and behavioral factors. Research has related value priorities to age, education, religiosity, gender, college major, political orientation, voting behavior, and such personal and interpersonal constructs as agreeableness, conscientiousness, extraversion, change seeking, sexism, autocratic behavior, and autonomy expectations (Feather 2004; Prince-Gibson and Schwartz 1998; Schwartz and Rubel 2005; Schwartz et al. 2001; Stewart et al. 1999). Research on values in Turkey A cultural as well as a geographical bridge in the Middle East between the “east” and “west” that emerged from the ruins of the Ottoman Empire as a republic a little over eighty years ago, and the only secular democratic state with a predominantly Moslem population (over 98 percent), Turkey should provide a particularly interesting vantage point for studying values. In fact, a strong tradition of values research exists in Turkey, with a focus on understanding how value priorities relate to changing socio-cultural and familial contexts. In a country that has undergone a radical transition in a short time, this emphasis is not surprising. Thus, values have been explored and discussed in relation to traditional socialization processes, urbanization, socio-economic development, and changing family interaction patterns. In Turkey, conventional child-rearing practices emphasize politeness, obedience, respect, and loyalty toward parents and going along with

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expectations of close others rather than independence and self-reliance _ ( Imamo
glu 1987; Ka
gıt¸cıba¸sı 1973; Sunar and Okman-Fi¸sek 2005). At the same time, there is evidence of change. Using the Rokeach Value _ Survey (RVS), Imamo
glu and Ayg€ un (1999) studied the value preferences of students at a Turkish university, first in the late 1970s, and again in 1994. As expected, the parents of students studied in the 1970s were found to hold more conservative values than their children. While the two cohorts of students were more similar than different, a recent trend toward more individualistic values such as self-respect and independence, namely, a growing emphasis among the young, educated, upper middle class on individuation and personal autonomy was noted. Ba¸saran (1992) also found that university students placed more importance on values of self-respect, self-direction, freedom, independence, and imagination, whereas their parents placed greater emphasis on more traditional values of family and national security, happiness after life, forgiveness, and obedience. Maybe the most convincing evidence for change over time comes from the work based on the nine-country VOC (Value of Children) project conducted in Turkey by Ka
gıt¸cıba¸sı, first in the 1970s (Ka
gıtc¸ ıba¸sı 1990) and partially replicated thirty years later (Ka
gıtc¸ ıba¸sı and Ataca 2005). A decrease in son preference, desired number of children, and in the economic and utilitarian value of the child and an increase in the psychological value of the child have been identified as some of the most notable changes over time; these findings support the argument by Ka
gıtc¸ ıba¸sı that socio-economic development and urbanization are associated with a shift from a family model based on material interdependence to one based on psychological interdependence, to “a family context conducive to the development of the autonomousrelated self ” (Ka
gıtc¸ ıba¸sı 2005: 12). Schwartz’s theory of values has received a growing interest in the research on values in Turkey. In a study by Ku¸sdil and Ka
gıtc¸ ıba¸sı (2000), conducted in 1990 with a sample of schoolteachers, the theoretical structure proposed by Schwartz was tested using fifty of the original sixty items in the SVS plus four additional values added by the researchers as being salient in the society. Results of the smallest space analysis produced six (of the ten) distinct value types, and four as combined with an adjacent type. The teachers rated universalism as the most important, followed by security and benevolence. Expectations of no significant difference between conservation and openness, as well as higher ratings for self-transcendence as opposed to self-enhancement were both supported. The relationships between the different value types, and the variables of preference for nuclear versus extended family,

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and low versus high religious orientation were also in the expected direction. _ A more recent study by Ayg€ un and Imamo
glu (2002), conducted in 1995 and using SVS in addition to other measures, again largely supported the motivational theory of values proposed by Schwartz, with some cultural variation; for example, openness to change dimension did not emerge as a distinct domain, and benevolence value correlated equally with tradition and universalism. Results of this study are similar _ to the findings of Imamo
glu and Ayg€ un (1999), with universalism being ranked highest in importance, followed by benevolence. The samples in both studies were highly educated and represented the upper middle socioeconomic status (SES) population in metropolitan areas. As expected, _ Ayg€ un and Imamo
glu (2002) found older people to place more importance on being prosocial, observing tradition and expectations of authorities, religious and cultural norms compared to younger people, with the difference growing smaller with increasing level of education. No differences were found between the adults and the university students in relation to self-enhancement and universalism domains, but a positive relation was found between age and self-transcendence and conservation. _ Based on different studies on values in Turkey, Ayg€ un and Imamo
glu (ibid.) have argued for the possible co-existence of individual-related concerns regarding self-enhancement with group-related concerns, a respect for tradition along with a questioning approach to it. For example, among university students, expected age effects such as high importance placed on values related to individual autonomy and initiative have been found alongside a somewhat lower emphasis on values related to universalism; at the same time, a high importance placed on family security and a religious orientation have been found to coexist with a low importance placed on obedience (Ayvalıo
glu 1989; Cileli ¸ and Tezer 1998). A representative study of youth (Konrad Adenauer Vakfı 1999) and a more recent study of university students (Artan et al. 2005) have also yielded compatible findings. It is possible that while those aspects of the traditional belief and behavior structure such as trustworthiness and respect for human beings associated with universalism are maintained, others like obedience that restrict autonomous development are becoming less important in the society. Researchers have also been interested in the relationship of values to _ gender. The research by Ayg€ un and Imamo
glu (2002) found more similarities than differences across gender as well as a non-significant trend for women to be more inclined toward universalism and for men to be more inclined toward a normative or conservative frame of reference. In this study, “The more progressive respondents tended to favor

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universal rather than traditional values, and the women seemed to play a critical role in that progression” (p. 346). Similar arguments for more progressive attitudes on the part of women have been noted in other research on values in Turkey also (Artan et al. 2005; Ba¸saran 1992). Research with immigrant Turkish families in Europe also points to more individualism and less conformity pressures in the socialization of daughters, and more conformity pressure on sons as future caretakers of parents (Phalet and Sch€ onpflug 2001). It is also possible that the greater restrictions on women in society make women more sensitive to and critical of the status quo and, with the benefit of higher education, more progressive in their attitudes toward change. Given this background on the study of values in Turkey, this chapter is based on a study that had two major aims. The first was to map out _ the value priorities of young people in Istanbul using the Portrait Values Questionnaire (PVQ). The second was to relate young people’s value priorities to several background as well as attitudinal variables. The _ study was part of a larger collaborative project on Istanbul youth carried out by an interdisciplinary team of researchers (Kazgan 2007). Research questions Several hypotheses, grouped under five research questions were tested.  Research question 1: Education will have a significant relationship with values, positively with stimulation and self-direction and negatively with conformity and tradition. Small differences are expected in relation to gender, and even smaller differences are expected in relation to SES.  Research question 2: Women and more educated participants, and, in particular, more highly educated women will have more liberal attitudes toward gender roles. Compared to men, women’s gender role attitudes will relate more strongly to their values. And, more specifically, more liberal attitudes toward gender roles will relate positively to openness values, hedonism, and universalism, and negatively to conservation values.  Research question 3: Preference for more than two children will relate positively to conservation values, and negatively to openness values and hedonism. Women, as well as respondents from higher SES and higher education groups, will show less preference for having more than two children. Among people who show a preference for more than two children, women as well as respondents from higher SES and educational backgrounds will be more likely to give psychological as opposed to traditional reasons for why.

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 Research question 4: Expectations of autonomy from children will be higher than respondents’ perceived parental expectations of autonomy from self. Women, as well as respondents from higher SES and higher education levels, will report higher autonomy expectations from their children. Higher autonomy expectations from children as well as higher parental expectations of autonomy from self will relate positively to openness values, hedonism, and universalism, and negatively to conservation values. This effect will be strongest for those who have both higher autonomy expectations of children and higher perceptions of parental expectations of autonomy from self.  Research question 5: The value of autonomy from the family on use of personal income and on choice of marriage partner will relate negatively to conservation values and benevolence, and positively to openness values, hedonism, and power. Method Sample The sample included 500 men and 500 women, aged 17–26 (mean ¼ 21.48, SD ¼ 2.78). Fifty-two percent of the participants were currently employed, 27 percent were students, 13 percent were neither employed nor in school, and 8 percent were homemakers. The educational level of 30 percent of the participants was middle school or below, 50 percent were high school graduates, and 20 percent had a university education. In terms of class, 15 percent rated themselves as upper class, 65 percent as middle class, and 11 percent as lower class. The remaining 9 percent did not provide self-ratings of SES. Instrument Portrait Values Questionnaire (PVQ) Compared to the SVS, the forty-item PVQ (Schwartz et al. 2001) has been identified as more usable with a wider range of audiences (ibid.), and was recently adapted to Turkish by Demirutku (“Turkish adaptation of the Portrait Values Questionnaire,” unpublished). Attitudes toward gender role expectations for women scale A tenitem scale was developed using original items as well as items from the World Values Survey and from other research in Turkey. A sample

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statement reads: “A working mother can establish just as warm and trusting relationships with her children as can a stay at home mother,” with high scores indicating more liberal attitudes. The internal consistency (i.e., Cronbach’s alpha) of the scale was a ¼ 0.75. Attitudes toward autonomy from the family on use of personal income Participants responded to the following statement: “What a single person does with their personal income, whether they spend or save it, should not be of any concern to their family.” Responses were anchored on a five-point Likert scale, where 1 ¼ strong disagreement and 5 ¼ strong agreement. Attitudes toward autonomy from the family on choice of marriage partner Participants responded to the following statement: “A young woman or man should be able to marry the person they love even if their family is against it.” Responses were anchored on a five-point Likert scale, where 1 ¼ strong disagreement and 5 ¼ strong agreement. Obedience versus autonomy expectations of parents Participants rated the child-rearing attitudes of their parents by placing them on a tenpoint scale, ranging from 1 (they expect me to obey them at all times) to 10 (they let me make my own decisions). Obedience versus autonomy expectations from children Participants rated their own child-rearing attitudes by placing themselves on a ten-point scale, ranging from 1 (I would expect them to obey me at all times) to 10 (I would let them make their own decisions). Desired family size and why Participants were asked their opinion on whether families should have more than two children. Those in favor were then asked to choose one of the following reasons for why: 1 ¼ as a source of extra income, 2 ¼ for family continuity, 3 ¼ if it is God’s will, 4 ¼ to make the family stronger, and 5 ¼ for more joy and love in the household. Based on the frequencies, the first four categories were combined as “traditional values” and the last category identified as “psychological values” for further analyses. Demographic questionnaire Participants responded to various questions about their demographic characteristics, such as gender, age, education, occupation, household income, and identified SES.

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Procedure The field research was conducted between June and August of 2004. Participants were interviewed face to face by trained interviewers at their homes or work places. Results The structural configuration postulated by Schwartz’s theory of values was largely supported by the data. The two oppositions, namely, selfenhancement versus self-transcendence and conservation versus openness to change were present and all ten values appeared as distinct regions and arrayed in space around a circle as theorized. As can be seen in Figure 16.1, the only shift involved power and achievement reversing locations on the circular structure. Only four out of forty items emerged in a region different from their primary region, and all the errors were in a region adjacent to the expected one. Self-transcendence values received higher scores than self-enhancement values [t(979) ¼ 24.347, p < 0.001], while the scores on openness and conservatism values were not significantly different [t(979) ¼ 0.621, p > 0.05]. Universalism was highest, followed by benevolence and selfdirection. Means and standard deviations of the study variables and the correlations among them are presented in Table 16.1. Education was expected to relate positively to self-direction and stimulation, and negatively to conformity and tradition. This hypothesis was supported. The results of Pearson partial correlation analyses (controlling for age, one-tailed) relating education to values were significant ( p < 0.01). It was also predicted that gender and SES would moderate the effects of education. The sample was divided into three education (secondary school graduate and below, high school graduate, some university education) and three SES (low, middle, high) groups. A three-way MANOVA was performed for the importance of ten values, with gender, education, and SES as factors. The results are presented in Table 16.2. The results showed significant multivariate effects ( p < 0.001) for education, gender, and SES, as well as a significant two-way interaction of education by gender. The effect of education was strongest, followed by gender and SES. The univariate effects of education were in the expected direction, with monotonic effects that were negative for tradition and conformity, and positive for stimulation and self-direction. The univariate tests of the effect of gender yielded significant differences in favor of men on conformity and power, and in favor of women on hedonism.

Values of young people in urban Turkey +

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+

Figure 16.1 Value structure for the sample: two-dimensional smallestscale analysis. The numbers correspond to the forty value statements in the PVQ.

Gender moderated the effects of education on values: the multivariate interaction of education with gender was significant ( p ¼ 0.01). The univariate interactions for self-direction ( p < 0.001) and security ( p < 0.001) were also significant. The positive effect of education on women’s self-direction scores was greater than it was for men. Although women at the lowest educational level received a much lower score than men at the same educational level, the gap closed for participants with a high school degree, and among those with some university education, women’s self-direction value was stronger. The reverse pattern was true for security, with men’s scores going up and women’s scores going down with increasing level of education. The effect of education on achievement and power showed different patterns for different SES groups. On achievement, the university educated sample in the lowest SES group ranked lowest, whereas the university educated sample in the highest SES group ranked highest.

Table 16.1. Means and standard deviations of study variables, and Pearson correlations Descriptives

Mean SD Conformity

4.01

0.688

Correlations

Con

tra

ben **

1

0.417 **

Tradition

3.60

0.848

0.417

Benevolence

4.33

0.602

0.109**

0.109

**

uni

s-d

0.050 0.119

**

sti

hed

0.429

**

0.410

0.507

**

0.355

** **

ach

pow

0.410

**

0.262

0.260**

0.363

**

0.236

0.236**

** **

1

0.050

0.050

1

0.257** 0.076* 0.164** 0.243** 0.298** 0.363**

0.257**

1

Universalism

4.46

0.551 0.050

Self-direction

4.24

0.645 0.429** 0.507** 0.076*

0.119**

0.096** 0.214** 0.298** 0.343** 0.425**

Stimulation

3.79

0.840 0.410

Hedonism

3.71

0.972 0.410** 0.363** 0.243** 0.298**

Achievement

4.00

Power Security Self-

0.271**

0.126** 0.054

0.035

1

0.333**

0.095**

0.052

0.333**

1

0.076*

0.255**

0.680 0.262** 0.236** 0.298** 0.343** 0.054

0.095**

0.076*

1

0.175**

3.18

1.017 0.260** 0.236** 0.363** 0.425**

0.052

0.255**

0.175**

1

4.11

0.615

0.191**

4.41

0.457

0.021

3.65

0.633 0.340** 0.308** 0.433** 0.504** 0.009

0.094**

0.222**

0.734**

0.797**

3.94

0.564 0.591** 0.579** 0.233** 0.206**

0.743**

0.723**

0.058

0.171**

**

0.355

**

0.164

**

0.121** 0.158** 0.060

0.714**

0.096** 0.214

**

0.005 0.860**

1 0.271

**

0.126** 0.035

0.274** 0.385** 0.369** 0.070* 0.228** 0.030

0.241** 0.345** 0.406** 0.500**

transcendenc Selfenhancement Openness to

0.644**

change 0.733**

0.757** 0.002

Conservation

3.92

0.499

Liberal

3.43

0.810 0.299** 0.447**

3.04

0.082* 0.577** 0.542** 0.539** 0.268** 0.342** 0.243**

0.298**

0.188**

0.221** 0.016

1.444 0.089** 0.128** 0.044

0.029

0.129**

0.054

0.111** 0.023

0.092**

3.88

1.307 0.133** 0.185** 0.044

0.075*

0.147**

0.089**

0.116**

0.069*

0.055

6.80

2.582 0.194** 0.238**

0.116**

0.228**

0.100**

0.150**

0.045

0.092**

5.41

2.872 0.089** 0.149** 0.004

0.064*

0.188**

0.076*

0.033

0.077*

0.070*

gender atts. Financial autonomy Partner autonomy Expect of

0.000

autonomy from child Perceived

0.009

0.022

parental expectation of autonomy from self Age

21.49 2.777 0.031

0.119**

0.048

0.174**

0.099** 0.036

0.050

0.110**

0.051

0.032

0.043

0.006

0.015

0.060

0.011

0.040

0.147** 0.061

0.204** 0.332** 0.049

0.006

0.166**

0.173**

Small family

0.008 0.105**

0.135** 0.005 0.046

0.040

size pref. Gender

0.50

0.500 0.109** 0.059

–

–

0.081*

(M = 0, F = 1) Educat (part corr. controlling for age)

Notes: *Correlation is significant at the 0.05 level (two-tailed). **Correlation is significant at the 0.01 level (two-tailed).

0.278**

0.063

0.071*

sec

s-tr

s-en

Open

Liberal gender finan attitude auton

Cons

Partner Childauton auton

Parentauton Age

Small fam size Gender

0.191** 0.021 0.340** 0.591** 0.733** 0.299** 0.089** 0.133** 0.194** 0.089** 0.031 0.050 0.109** 0.121** 0.060 0.308** 0.579** 0.757** 0.447** 0.128** 0.185** 0.238** 0.149** 0.119**0.110** 0.059 0.158** 0.714** 0.433** 0.233** 0.002 0.005

0.860 0.504 0.206 0.082 **

**

0.274** 0.030 0.009

**

*

0.077* 0.044 0.044

0.000 0.004

0.048

0.051

0.015

0.243** 0.029

0.116** 0.064*

0.174** 0.032

0.060

0.075*

0.644** 0.577** 0.298** 0.129** 0.147** 0.228** 0.188** 0.099** 0.043 0.011

0.385** 0.241** 0.094** 0.743** 0.542** 0.188** 0.054

0.089** 0.100** 0.076* 0.036 0.006

0.369** 0.345** 0.222** 0.723** 0.539** 0.221** 0.111** 0.116** 0.150** 0.033 0.008 0.070* 0.406** 0.734** 0.058 0.268** 0.016 0.023 0.228** 0.500** 0.797** 0.171** 0.342** 0.070* 1 0.080*

0.069*

0.594** 0.272** 0.060

0.200** 0.594** 1

0.216** 0.002

0.153** 0.400** 0.058

0.487** 0.272** 0.153** 1

0.050

0.031

0.108** 0.002

0.050

0.140** 0.156** 0.142** 1

0.149** 0.031

0.081*

0.167** 0.223** 0.119** 0.162** 1

0.013 0.036 0.059

0.010

0.000

0.052 0.093*

0.066* 0.031

0.010 0.087** 0.000 0.093**

0.136** 0.158** 0.114** 0.022

0.103** 0.014

0.070* 0.096** 0.240** 0.045 0.088** 0.050

0.070*

0.088**

0.142** 0.119** 0.326** 0.114** 0.103** 0.240** 0.492** 0.162** 0.088** 0.022 0.014 0.114** 0.073*

0.226** 0.231** 0.326** 0.088** 0.114** 1

0.151** 0.087** 0.025 0.069* 0.050

0.059 0.052

0.404** 0.156** 0.223** 0.231** 0.158** 0.069* 0.096** 0.050

0.333** 0.404** 1

0.089** 0.044

0.151** 0.050

0.785** 0.333** 0.140** 0.167** 0.226** 0.136** 0.025

0.618** 0.060 0.400** 0.785** 1

0.084** 0.036

0.084** 0.044

0.081* 0.036

0.091** 0.216** 0.058

0.052

0.045 0.009 0.135** 0.046 0.061

0.092** 0.055 0.092** 0.022 0.005 0.040 0.081*

0.080* 0.200** 0.487** 0.618** 0.091** 0.108** 0.149** 0.052 0.089** 0.013 0.036 1

0.040

0.105** 0.147**

0.073*

0.070*

0.274** 0.049

0.274** 1

0.040

0.044 0.089** 0.094** 0.186**

0.104**0.049 0.020

0.070*

0.049

0.044

0.094** 0.049 0.033

0.104** 1

0.492** 0.040 0.089** 0.186** 0.020 0.011

0.088** 0.290** 0.291** 0.299** 0.095** 0.034

0.045

0.151** 0.106** >

0.033 0.011 1

0.202**

0.202** 1 0.012 0.010

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Table 16.2. MANOVA of value priorities as a function of education, gender, and SES

Effect

F

df

Sig.

Partial eta squared

EDUCATION (3) GENDER (2) SES (3) EDUCATION X GENDER EDUCATION X SES GENDER X SES EDUCATION X GENDER X SES

6.693 5.352 4.027 1.886 1.509 0.940 1.461

20,1728 10,864 20,1728 20,1728 40,3278 20,1728 40,3278

0.000 0.000 0.000 0.010 0.021 NS 0.031

0.072 0.058 0.045 0.021 0.017 0.011 0.017

Although power went up with educational level in all SES groups, the positive effect of education was most dramatic in the high SES group. Finally, there was a three-way univariate interaction of education, gender, and SES on security; at every SES group, security went down for women with increasing level of education. More liberal attitudes toward gender roles were expected to relate positively to openness values and universalism, and negatively to conservation values. Total mean of the gender role attitudes scale was 3.43. Participants with a mean below the average (51 percent) were categorized as less liberal, and those with a mean above the average (49 percent) were categorized as more liberal. The one-way MANOVA testing the relationship of values to gender role attitudes was significant [F(19, 969) ¼ 23.68; Pillai’s Trace ¼ 0.196, p < 0.001]. The results of univariate analyses supported all the predictions, with participants “more liberal” in their attitudes receiving significantly lower scores on conformity, tradition, and security, and significantly higher scores on universalism, self-direction, stimulation, and hedonism. The results are presented in Table 16.3. The hypothesis that women and more educated participants will have more liberal attitudes, and that more highly educated women will have the most liberal attitudes was tested by a two-way ANOVA, with gender and education as factors. Gender [F(1,974) ¼ 262.22, p < 0.001] and education [F(2,974) ¼ 74.70, p < 0.001] had significant effects on gender role attitudes. Women’s attitudes were significantly more liberal than men’s, and attitudes became significantly more liberal with increasing level of education. The interactive effect approached significance [F(2,974) ¼ 3.17, p < 0.05]; the difference between women with primary/secondary school and high school degrees was greater than the same difference among men. The results are presented in Table 16.4.

Values of young people in urban Turkey

275

Table 16.3. Mean scores on values by gender-role attitudes, and MANOVA results

Conformity Tradition Benevolence Universalism Self-direction Stimulation Hedonism Achievement Power Security

Less liberal

More liberal

F (df ¼ 1,976)

sig.

Partial eta squared

4.16 3.90 4.31 4.37 4.08 3.66 3.50 4.00 3.24 4.15

3.84 3.27 4.35 4.55 4.39 3.91 3.93 4.00 3.11 4.07

43.792 169.674 0.966 25.780 78.081 21.341 30.357 1.188 0.985 9.256

0.000 0.000 NS 0.000 0.000 0.000 0.000 NS NS 0.002

0.043 0.148 0.001 0.026 0.074 0.021 0.030 0.001 0.001 0.009

Table 16.4. Mean scores on gender-role attitudes by gender and education Gender

Education

Secondary school graduate or below High school graduate University graduate or above Total

Men

Women

Total

2.79

3.40

3.07

3.04 3.46 3.03

3.90 4.22 3.83

3.47 3.89 3.43

Women’s gender role attitudes were expected to relate more strongly to their values. Correlations carried out separately for men and women supported this hypothesis, and, as illustrated in Figure 16.2, follow the wavelike or sinusoid pattern predicted by Schwartz’s theory of values. The ten values associated systematically with gender role attitudes, such that the strongest positive and negative associations were with values located opposite each other on the circular structure (self-direction and tradition, respectively), and the associations with the other values became weaker with increasing distance from these two values. Preference for more than two children was expected to relate positively to conservation values, and negatively to openness values and hedonism. The one-way MANOVA testing the relationship of values to family size preference was significant [multivariate F(10, 856) ¼ 3.252, Pillai’s Trace ¼ 0.037, p < 0.001]. The univariate analyses revealed

276

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Table 16.5. Mean scores on values by family size preference, and MANOVA results

Conformity Tradition Benevolence Universalism Self-direction Stimulation Hedonism Achievement Power Security

Yes, might No, should have more not have more F than 2 children than 2 children (df ¼ 1,865) Sig.

Partial eta squared

4.06 3.75 4.29 4.43 4.18 3.79 3.55 3.95 3.24 4.15

0.002 0.012 0.003 0.001 0.002 0.000 0.011 0.002 0.002 0.001

3.99 3.54 4.36 4.47 4.24 3.78 3.78 4.02 3.15 4.10

2.129 10.686 2.296 0.885 1.601 0.034 9.672 1.870 1.359 1.105

NS 0.001 NS NS NS NS 0.002 NS NS NS

0.6 0.4 0.2 0 –0.2

CO

TR

BE

UN

SD

ST

HE

AC

PO

SE

–0.4 –0.6 Correlation for M

Correlation for W

Figure 16.2 Values in relation to liberal attitudes toward gender roles: Pearson correlations for men and women.

significant a relationship between preference for more than two children and only tradition and hedonism. The results are presented in Table 16.5. Women as well as respondents with more education and from higher SES showed less preference for having more than two children. Overall, 64 percent of the respondents disagreed with the idea of having more than two children. Chi-square analyses revealed significant differences only for gender [v2 ¼ 35.45, df ¼ 1, p < 0.01], with 81 percent of women as opposed to 63 percent of men not preferring more than two children. Among people who showed a preference for having more than two

Values of young people in urban Turkey

277

children (24.7 percent), women as well as more educated and higher SES respondents were expected to be more likely to give psychological rather than traditional reasons for why. For this and the remaining hypotheses, Chi-square analyses were carried out, with the education variable recoded as low (below high school degree) and high (high school degree and above). Among the 221 respondents who gave a reason for having more than two children, 98 (44 percent) chose traditional values and 123 (56 percent) reported psychological values. Chi-square analyses demonstrated that the reason is significantly related to gender [v2 ¼ 4.819, df ¼ 1, p < 0.05] and education [v2 ¼ 8.336, df ¼ 1, p < 0.01], but not to SES [v2 ¼ 2.326, df ¼ 2, p > 0.05]. Men and less educated respondents were more likely to choose traditional values, and women and more educated respondents were more likely to choose psychological values. As expected, young people’s expectation of autonomy from their own children was positively correlated with their perceptions of their parents’ expectations of them to be autonomous (r ¼ 0.274). At the same time, paired sample ttest results supported the hypothesis that their expectations of autonomy from their children would be higher than their perceptions of parental expectations of autonomy from self [t(979) ¼ 13.212, p < 0.001]. Women as well as more educated and higher SES respondents reported higher autonomy expectations from children. The sample mean on this variable was 6.8 out of 10. The respondents with values below 6.8 were categorized as low child autonomy (45 percent), and those with values above the mean as high child autonomy (55 percent). Chi-square analyses revealed significant effects for gender [v2 ¼ 31.23, df ¼ 1, p < 0.01] and education [v2 ¼ 13.32, df ¼ 1, p < 0.01]. As expected, the majority of both the men and the less educated respondents reported lower autonomy expectations from their children as compared to the majority of the women and the higher educated respondents. A new variable was created by combining the child and parent variables, which resulted in four groups. MANOVA results showed a significant relationship between values and this new variable [multivariate F(30,2907) ¼ 4.36, Pillai’s Trace ¼ 0.129, p < 0.001]. The combined child and parent autonomy variable was significantly related to values. As anticipated, the univariate analyses were significant for conformity, tradition, universalism, self-direction, stimulation, and hedonism, and approached significance for security. Although the predicted trend in the differences between the four groups was strongest for tradition and selfdirection, the group high on autonomy expectations by both the self and the parent was significantly different from the group low on autonomy expectations by both the self and the parent for all these values. The results are presented in Table 16.6.

278

Hale Bolak Boratav

Table 16.6. Mean scores on expectations of autonomy by values, and MANOVA results

Conformity Tradition Benevolence Universalism Self-direction Stimulation Hedonism Achievement Power Security

Child low– parent low

Child low– parent high

Child high– parent low

Child high– parent high

F (df ¼ 3,976)

Sig.

Partial eta squared

4.16 3.85 4.31 4.37 4.02 3.70 3.54 4.01 3.25 4.18

4.16 3.70 4.39 4.43 4.21 3.68 3.52 3.95 3.19 4.11

3.93 3.49 4.36 4.51 4.26 3.77 3.85 4.02 3.06 4.14

3.84 3.38 4.31 4.52 4.44 3.92 3.85 4.00 3.19 4.02

14.353 18.592 0.847 4.530 23.276 4.429 8.497 0.351 1.559 3.641

0.000 0.000 NS 0.004 0.000 0.004 0.000 NS NS 0.012

0.042 0.054 0.003 0.014 0.067 0.013 0.025 0.001 0.005 0.011

Table 16.7. Beta scores from multivariate prediction to people’s autonomy expectations of children by their value priorities and perceived parental expectations Predictor Parental expectation of autonomy Tradition Power Conformity Hedonism Model statistics

0.240 0.169 0.189. 0.118 0.081 R2 ¼ 0.15* F(5,974) ¼ 36.67

Notes: * p < .005 I would like to thank Shalom Schwartz for helping me with the mutidimensional scaling analysis and Alev Cavdar ¸ for her assistance with the statistical analyses.

A step-wise regression analysis was carried out to test whether young people’s expectations of autonomy from their own children could be predicted from their values and their perceptions of their parents’ expectations of autonomy from self. Parental expectations, and the values of tradition, conformity, and hedonism entered the equation and explained 15 percent of the variance. Parental expectation was the strongest predictor. The results are presented in Table 16.7.

Values of young people in urban Turkey

279

Autonomy expectations from the family on use of personal income and on choice of marriage partner were expected to relate negatively to conservation values and benevolence, and positively to openness values and power. The results of Pearson correlation analyses, presented in Table 16.1, provided partial support for this hypothesis. As expected, the desire for autonomy in regard to finances and partner choice had significant negative relationships with conservation values, but no significant relationship with benevolence. The expected positive relationships with openness values and power were all significant except for stimulation in the case of financial autonomy, and for power in the case of partner autonomy. Discussion In this study, value priorities of young people were mapped out and linked to several background characteristics such as education, gender and SES, as well as to different attitudes relating to gender and family. Findings largely supported Schwartz’s theory of values as well as Ka
gıtc¸ ıba¸sı’s Model of Family Change. The stronger endorsement of self-transcendence than of self-enhancement, and the relatively equal endorsement of openness and conservation values are congruent with earlier research in Turkey based on the SVS (Ku¸sdil and Ka
gıtc¸ ıba¸sı 2000). The unexpected finding that achievement changed positions with power and emerged next to security may suggest, as previously argued (Phalet and Sch€ onpflug 2001), that, for Turkish parents, achievement values may be more compatible with parental collectivism such as safety, harmony, and stability of society (security values) than with individualism. That the universalism value received the highest endorsement is also consistent with the findings of previous research in Turkey (Ayg€ un _ and Imamo
glu 2002; Ba¸saran 1992; Ku¸sdil and Ka
gıtc¸ ıba¸sı 2000). Not surprisingly, compared to an older sample of schoolteachers (Ku¸sdil and Ka
gıtc¸ ıba¸sı 2000), security was less endorsed by this younger sample. The fact that self-direction emerged as the third most endorsed value, and was not significantly lower than benevolence, is also congruent with _ previous research with young samples (Ayg€ un and Imamo
glu 2002; _ Ba¸saran 1992; Imamo
glu and Ayg€ un 1999). As predicted by Schwartz’s theory of values (Schwartz et al. 2001) and previously reviewed research in Turkey, education related positively to self-direction and stimulation, and negatively to tradition and conformity. Given that previous research finds small effect size for gender and moderation by culture (Schwartz and Rubel 2005), no specific hypotheses were generated for gender. This study also finds gender to

280

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have a smaller effect than education (Prince-Gibson and Schwartz 1998). The greater endorsement of power by men is consistent with previous research that finds the strongest difference for this value. Some unexpected findings can be understood in terms of sample, measurement, and cultural factors (Schwartz and Rubel 2005). For example, women’s lower level of conformity is compatible with previous research in Turkey that finds women to hold more progressive attitudes. Whereas the gender salience in the English PVQ may enlarge the gender difference for benevolence and universalism valued typically important by women (ibid.), the gender-neutral structure of the Turkish language may have attenuated the salience of gender. On the other hand, the wording of the hedonism items (that is, to gain pleasure, to be indulged) may have had a feminine connotation in the context of Turkey. The interactive effects of education with gender and SES are also in the expected direction. The combined effect of education and SES contribute to an increased importance of self-enhancement values. That the added value of increasing levels of education is more substantial for women than for men is a consistent finding in research carried out in Turkey. For women in this study, each level of education increases the importance of self-direction (an openness value) much more so than for men, and decreases the importance of security (a conservation value), pointing again to the critical role education plays in values for women. Social psychological research (for example, Eagly et al. 2004) has demonstrated that women may be more politically aware than men in relation to gender issues. As expected, attitudes of women and of more educated respondents were more liberal, and again, the effect of education on liberal attitudes was greater for women. More liberal attitudes towards gender roles were predicted by openness values, hedonism, and universalism, as postulated by Schwartz’s theory of values, and as previously shown in a study relating values to ambivalent sexism (Feather 2004). Just as Feather found men’s sexist attitudes to relate more strongly to their values, this study found women’s egalitarian attitudes to relate more strongly to their values, and hence as carrying more salience for them compared to men. Of the conservation values expected to predict preference for more than two children, only tradition had a significant effect, and none of the expected negative relationships with openness values were observed; the expected negative relationship with hedonism was significant. Why people’s attitudes on this issue were not predicted by some other values is not an easy question to answer. Although the difference in education did not make a significant difference, the fact that the majority of the respondents in this relatively educated sample rejected the idea of more

Values of young people in urban Turkey

281

than two children is congruent with previous findings (Ka
gıt¸cıba¸sı and Ataca 2005) that have shown the demographic transition to a two-child norm in Turkey over time. In contrast to earlier reports of fewer ideal numbers of children by the high SES urban mothers in the follow-up VOC study, SES did not predict this preference in this study. The fact that SES was the weakest predictor in this study may be due to its assessment via subjective ratings. On the other hand, the fact that more psychological as opposed to traditional reasons for having more than two children were reported is consistent with the findings of the recent VOC study; in addition, we find that the salience of psychological reasons is higher for women and for more educated respondents. In line with the findings of the follow-up VOC study, which pointed to autonomy as emerging as a “desired child quality” (p. 335), respondents reported higher autonomy expectations from their own children compared to those they observed from their their parents. Again, being more educated and a woman predicted higher autonomy expectations from children. The relationships with openness values, hedonism, and conservation were all in the predicted direction except for security, suggesting that the importance of security value is not incompatible with autonomy expectations. These findings fit Ka
gıt¸cıba¸sı’s Model of Family Change which predicts that as material interdependency becomes less important with urbanization, obedience orientation is reduced, and as it is no longer perceived a threat, child autonomy becomes more preferred in childrearing (Ka
gıt¸cıba¸sı 1996, 2005). The relationships between values and perceived autonomy expectations of parents were all in the predicted direction, although weaker, which would be expected given that it is the perceived and not actual expectations of parents that were available for analysis. However, perceived expectations of the parents were even stronger predictors of young people’s own preferences for their children’s autonomy. This finding supports previous research, which shows that family environment is a significant predictor of autonomy expectations from children (Feldman and Rosenthal 1991; Stewart et al. 1999). Although expectations of autonomy from the family on disposing of personal income and on the choice of marriage partner showed the predicted negative relationships to conservation values, the predicted negative relationship to benevolence was not observed. Again, based on Ka
gıt¸cıba¸sı’s Model of Family Change, this finding can be interpreted to mean that relational separateness from the family on these issues does not come into conflict with the value of preserving and enhancing the welfare of people close to oneself, or psychological interdependency within the family. In fact, the follow-up VOC study showed a remarkable decrease in expectations of financial assistance from children over the last three decades.

282

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In this study, several theory-based relationships were tested between values and background as well as attitudinal variables, and the majority of the hypothesized relationships were in the expected direction. Values seem to be particularly informed by education, women appear to place more importance on values associated with openness, and education of women plays a critical role in their values and attitudes toward gender roles, preferred family size, and expectations of autonomy from children. As such, the findings offer substantial support for both Schwartz’s theory of values and Ka
gıtc¸ ıba¸sı’s Model of Family Change, and promising leads for future research. references _ Artan, D. B€ _ I. or€ u, G. Islamo
glu, S. Yurtkoru, B. Sipahi, K. Calı¸ ¸ skan, and ¨ niversite genc¸li
S. Ergun (eds.), U g i de
g erleri: Korkular ve umutlar [The Values of University Youth: Fears and Hopes] (Istanbul: TESEV, 2005). _ Z. K. Ayg€ un and E. O. Imamo
glu, “Value domains of Turkish adults and university students,” Journal of Social Psychology, 142 (2002), 333–52. _ N. Ayvalıo
glu, “A comparison of Turkish and American value systems,” Istanbul ¨ niversitesi Tecr€ U ubi Psikoloji, 17 (1989), 85–100. ¨ niversitesi Dil ve F. Ba¸saran, “University students’ value preferences,” Ankara U Tarih Co
g rafya Fak€ ultesi Ara¸stırma Dergisi, 14 (1992), 13–25. M. Cileli ¸ and E. Tezer, “Life and value orientations of Turkish university students,” Adolescence, 33 (1998), 219–28. A. H. Eagly, A. B. Diekman, M. C. Johannesen-Schmidt, and A. M. Koenig, “Gender gaps in socio-political attitudes: A social psychological analysis,” Journal of Personality and Social Psychology, 87 (2004), 796–816. N. Feather, “Value correlates of ambivalent attitudes toward gender relations,” Personality and Social Psychology Bulletin, 30 (2004), 3–12. S. S. Feldman and D. A. Rosenthal, “Age expectations of behavioral autonomy in Hong Kong, Australian and American youth: The influence of family variables and adolescents’ values,” International Journal of Psychology, 26 (1991), 1–23. _ E. O. Imamo
glu, “An interdependence model of human development,” in C. ¸ Ka
gıt¸cıba¸sı (ed.), Growth and Progress in Cross-cultural Psychology (Lisse, The Netherlands: Swets and Zeitlinger, 1987), pp. 138–45. _ E. O. Imamo
glu and Z. K. Ayg€ un, “1970’lerden 1990’lara de
gerler: Universite d€ uzeyinde g€ ozlenen zaman, ku¸sak ve cinsiyet farklılıkları [Value preferences from the 1970s to 1990s: Cohort, generation, and gender differences at a Turkish university],” T€ urk Psikoloji Dergisi, 14 (1999), 1–22. C. ¸ Ka
gıt¸cıba¸sı, “Psychological aspects of modernization in Turkey,” Journal of Cross-Cultural Psychology, 4 (1973), 157–74. C. ¸ Ka
gıt¸cıba¸sı, “Family and socialization in cross-cultural perspective: A model of change,” in J. Berman (ed.), Cross-cultural Perspectives: Nebraska Symposium on Motivation, 1989 (Lincoln: University of Nebraska Press, 1990), pp. 135–200.

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C. ¸ Ka
gıtc¸ ıba¸sı, “The autonomous-relational self: A new synthesis,” European Psychologist, 1 (1996), 180–86. C. ¸ Ka
gıt¸cıba¸sı, “Autonomy and relatedness in cultural context: Implications for self and family,” Journal of Cross-Cultural Psychology, 20 (2005), 1–20. C. ¸ Ka
gıtc¸ ıba¸sı and B. Ataca, “Value of children, family and self: A three-decade portrait from Turkey,” Applied Psychology: An International Review, 54 (2005), 317–37. _ G. Kazgan, Istanbul gen¸cli
g i: Genc¸lik de
g erleri [Istanbul Youth: The Values of Young _ People] ( Istanbul: Bilgi Universitesi Yayınları, 2007). Konrad Adanauer Vakfı, T€ urk genc¸li
g i 98: Suskun kitle b€ uy€ utec¸ altında [Turkish Youth 98: Investigation of the Silent Population] (Ankara: Istanbul M€ ulkiyeliler Vakfı Sosyal Ara¸stırmalar Merkezi, 1999). €g
retmenlerin de
E. Ku¸sdil and C. ¸ Ka
gıt¸cıba¸sı, “T€ urk o ger y€ onelimleri ve Schwartz de
ger kuramı [Value orientations of Turkish teachers and Schwartz’s theory of values,” T€ urk Psikoloji Dergisi, 15 (2000), 59–80. K. Phalet and U. Sch€ onpflug, “Intergenerational transmission in Turkish immigrant families: Parental collectivism, achievement values and gender differences,” Journal of Comparative Family Studies, 32 (2001), 489–504. E. Prince-Gibson and S. H. Schwartz, “Value priorities and gender,” Social Psychology Quarterly, 61 (1998), 49–67. S. H. Schwartz, “Universals in the content and structure of values: Theoretical advances and empirical tests in 20 countries,” in M. P. Zanna (ed.), Advances in Experimental Social Psychology (New York: Academic Press, 1992), pp. 5–65. S. H. Schwartz, “Are there universal aspects in the content and structure of values?,” Journal of Social Issues, 50 (1994), 19–45. S. H. Schwartz and A. Bardi, “Value hierarchies across cultures: Taking a similarities perspective,” Journal of Cross-Cultural Psychology, 32 (2001), 268–90. S. H. Schwartz and K. Boehnke, “Evaluating the structure of values with a confirmatory factor analysis,” Journal of Research in Personality, 38 (2004), 230–55. S. H. Schwartz and T. Rubel, “Sex differences in value priorities: Cross-cultural and multi-method studies,” Journal of Personality and Social Psychology, 89 (2005), 1010–28. S. H. Schwartz, G. Melech, A. Lehmann, S. Burgess, and M. Harris, “Extending the cross-cultural validity of the theory of basic human values with a different method of measurement,” Journal of Cross-Cultural Psychology, 32 (2001), 519–42. S. M. Stewart, M. H. Bond, O. Deeds, and S. F. Chung, “Intergenerational patterns of values and autonomy expectations in cultures of relatedness and separateness,” Journal of Cross-Cultural Psychology, 30 (1999), 575–93. D. Sunar and G. Okman-Fi¸sek, “Contemporary Turkish families,” in U. Gielen and J. Roopnarine (eds.), Families in Global Perspective (London: Allyn & Bacon, 2005), pp. 169–84.

17

Career development of professional women in Turkey Zeynep Aycan

Professor Ci
¸ gdem Ka
gıtc¸ ıba¸sı was a mentor and a role model to me. She has influenced my life in more than one way by being instrumental or supportive in many of my key life decisions. She was influential in my choice of cross-cultural and industrial/organizational psychology as my areas of specialization, and my recruitment to Ko¸c University, one of the leading research universities in Turkey. She was the “best woman” at my wedding, sharing the happiness and joy in one of the most important days of my life. I have always been deeply honored to be her student and colleague. This chapter I proudly dedicate to her.

Introduction In their guide to western businesspeople, Morrison et al. (1994) described the status of women in the Turkish business context as follows: “Remember that Turkey is primarily a Muslim country, so the vast majority of your business contacts will be male . . . . Any business women you meet will probably be Greek or Armenian rather than Turkish” ( p. 394). When I read this quotation, I thought that portrayal of Turkish professional women in this way was wrong and that the authors had made a serious mistake in their research. Later, as my interactions with colleagues and business people from western developed countries increased, I realized that similar misconceptions about Turkish women were not uncommon. In fact, some have openly admitted that they were surprised to meet me as a young and modern-looking Turkish woman pursuing a Ph.D. in Canada. It was at that time that I decided to study the career development of women in Turkey and I have since conducted several studies examining key factors facilitating and impeding women’s career advancement. The first study involved in-depth interviews with fifty-two high-level women managers. The findings of this study indicated that professional women have faced two major barriers in their career development: negative attitudes towards women managers in organizations and difficulties in achieving work–family balance. The subsequent studies delved into these issues in more detail. The present 284

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chapter will provide a brief summary of the three streams of research: key success factors for women in management, attitudes toward women managers, and work–family balance of women professionals. To set the stage, let us first describe the status of women in labor force in Turkey. Women in the labor force in Turkey The Republic of Turkey established in 1923 achieved a series of social, political, cultural, and economic reforms led by Atat€ urk that had serious implications for modernization and emancipation of Turkish women. Women were assigned an important role in the modernization project and their progress was interpreted as a sign of success in reaching modernity (Arat 1999). Emphasizing women’s role in the modernization process, Atat€ urk stated that, “Our women must be even more enlightened, more virtuous, and more knowledgeable than our men!” (cited in _ Inan 1967). The Educational Reform Act 1924 gave women equal right to education. The Dress Reform Act 1928 prohibited women from covering their heads and entire bodies with long black veils (hijab). The new republic marked the end of polygamy, as well as the end of divorce by men only. Perhaps the most notable was the reform in 1934 that granted women the right to vote and to be elected in local elections and, in 1935, in national elections too. The impact of reforms had been significant among middle and upper class families, while their influence had been only partial among lower socio-economic groups and in rural areas (cf. Kabasakal et al. 2004). The majority of economically active women still work in agriculture (56.8 percent of women versus 25.2 percent of men); while considerably fewer work in industry (14.4 percent women versus 29.5 percent of men) and services (28.8 percent of women versus 45.3 percent of men) (State Institute of Statistics (SIS) 2000). There is also a large informal sector in Turkey within which a sizable number of women from low socio-economic groups work (e.g., waged domestic household helpers). According to the most recent population census data, women’s literacy rate is still lower than that of men (77.6 percent versus 94.1 percent) (Hancıo
glu et al. 2001). Despite the modernization attempts, the representation and status of women in social, political, educational, and economic life have remained below the desired levels envisioned by Atat€ urk. By 1999, 29.7 percent of women over twelve years of age participated in the labor force, whereas 68.3 percent of men did (SIS, Household Labor Force Survey Results 1989–99). Women are under represented in national and local politics. Only 4 percent of the members of parliament, 5.5 percent of mayors,

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and 1.6 percent of municipality commission members were women (cf. Kabasakal et al. 2004). However, women are not severely disadvantaged in professional jobs. According to the available data (Kabasakal, Aycan and Karaka¸s 2004), Turkish women comprise 32 percent of professionals in scientific and technical jobs, 35 percent of managerial personnel, and 11 percent of entrepreneurs, directors, and top management. Turkish women also represent a substantial percentage of pharmacists (60 percent), physicians (19 percent), dentists (30 percent), lawyers (34 percent), and professors (23 percent) (G€ ur€ uz 2001). Similar to the case in many other countries in the world (Davidson and Burke 2004), women’s representation drops in top management positions. Several studies conducted in Turkey in the 1970s, 1980s, and 1990s indicate that the percentage of women senior executives does not exceed 4 percent in the private sector or 7.6 percent in the public sector (Kabasakal et al. 2004). Turkish women’s representation in managerial positions and professional jobs, while low, is comparable with that of their counterparts in some economically developed countries, e.g., the United States, the United Kingdom, and Germany (ibid.). Career development of women managers What factors facilitate and hinder women’s career development in Turkey? A qualitative study based on in-depth interviews with women managers attempted to address this question (Aycan 2004). Fifty-two women managers in top and middle management positions (e.g., CEO, board member, executive group manager, general manager, director, department manager) from twenty-seven different private sector organizations participated in this study. In line with Tharenou and Conroy’s (1994) tripartite model, the participants were asked about individual, organizational, and family-related factors influencing their career development. Among the “individual” factors, high self-confidence, self-determination, achievement orientation, and career-orientation were reported as key contributors to women’s career success. Women managers considered traditional gender role stereotypes as one of the most important barriers that they had to fight against. At the beginning of their careers, women managers had to convince themselves first that it was reasonable not to be involved with domestic duties and to seek help and support from family members or paid helpers. They had to learn to not feel guilty for being a working woman within a cultural context where people – even their own family and friends – questioned why they had to work and how they could leave their children for work. They also had to

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convince their partners/spouses to accept them as “career women” and share the household responsibilities with them. Last, but not least, they had to prove to their organizations that they were capable of handling higher responsibilities, and that their family duties did not interfere with their work. The following quotations aptly describe their psychological struggle in reconciling career-related decisions and societal pressures: Women readily internalize value judgments of the society which they live in, and position themselves accordingly. “I am a woman; my priorities are my home, husband, and children.” It is such thoughts that are critical when making a decision at a crossroads. It is not always easy to cope with the consequences of these types of decisions. The greatest of all barriers against women is their low self-confidence. At the sight of the first disappointment or a problem, the ones with low self-confidence are the ones who give up and use children and husband as an excuse.

With respect to demographic characteristics, the women in the survey all came from high socio-economic backgrounds which gave them a particular advantage in a country like Turkey, where socio-economic status (SES) and educational attainment are of prime importance in career success (Kabasakal 1998). Women from high SES not only have higher qualifications, but also have a better chance to access networks that matter (Zeytino
glu et al. 2001). The “situational” factors included experiences at work and at home. Women managers in this study stated that they experienced difficulties in accessing social and communication networks in male-dominated organizational cultures. They also described human resource management practices as being neither discriminatory nor supportive of their career advancement. However, a subtle discrimination in selection, performance appraisal, and promotion might have taken place due to limited access to male-dominated networks: The communication and support networks among men are strong and hard to penetrate. When you cannot communicate with them the way they do among themselves, they ostracize you. Yet, when you communicate with them in similar ways, they can readily reach faulty opinions about you. Two things happen when you are left out of their communication network. First, you are not getting the critical information about what is going on in the company (e.g., position openings). Second, men naturally prefer to work with people whom they can easily and efficiently communicate with, so when there is an opening for a position, they often choose among the male candidates.

Contrary to popular stereotypes that women cannot be successful without spousal support, only half of the respondents reported that their success was due to spousal support. The majority of women managers

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received help from family members and/or paid workers with childcare and household chores. They perceived that the support and encouragement they received from their families (especially mothers) during socialization was one of the key factors contributing to their success. An interesting finding was that mothers played a key role in boosting their self-confidence and creating high ideals. Mothers were both role models for and primary supporters of their daughters’ careers. Mothers as socialization agents for their sons were also reported to play an important role in the lives of working women. Turkish men in patriarchal families are used to being “looked after” and “served” by women (i.e., sister, mother, wife, etc.). Men who were socialized by their mothers to share household chores were the ones who provided support to their working wives: I never forget my mentor’s words. She used to say, “Women are free in Turkey. But women’s freedom is built upon other women’s (i.e., the mothers) restriction of freedom.” This is true. When my daughter was young, my mother looked after her with great sacrifices, so that I could work. I plan to do the same for my own daughter when I retire. My mother taught me how to behave, pose, talk, handle myself, dress, and manage my image. I am grateful to her for this as they came so naturally to me at work. Although my mother only had a primary school education she was very smart, energetic, and had excellent management skills. She lived through me what [sic] she herself couldn’t accomplish. When around people, she used to announce that her daughter would be on TV someday and that everyone will listen to her. She was right on.

The findings indicated that women’s career development in Turkey was influenced by both individual and situational factors. In fact, one can argue that individual factors such as self-confidence, determination, career orientation, and egalitarian attitudes toward gender roles were somewhat more important for women managers to overcome the situational barriers. The effect of the socio-cultural context was explicitly discussed as a key factor influencing both individual and situational factors in women’s career advancement in two ways. First, gender-role stereotypes constitute a barrier in cultures where women’s family-related responsibilities cannot be negotiated. Second, attitudes towards women’s career advancement in organizations created a glass ceiling (invisible barrier) for women. Gender-role stereotypes and attitudes toward women’s career development in organizations, in turn, influenced women’s own self-perceptions and idealsm as well as the support they received from their organization and families. The subsequent studies examined these barriers in more detail, namely, attitudes toward women managers in organizations and work–family conflict.

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Organizational context: attitudes toward women managers The findings of the first study on women managers indicated that attitudes toward women managers were among the key factors that impacted their career development. This has prompted the design of two studies aimed at measuring employee attitudes towards women managers. In the first study (Aycan 2004), 318 male and female employees from various private sector organizations filled out a questionnaire assessing attitudes toward women in management. The measurement used in this study was the Turkish version of the Women as Managers Scale (WAMS; Peters et al. 1974; also see Eker, unpublished thesis, Bogazici University, Istanbul 1989). WAMS is one of the most widely used instruments for assessing attitudes. It includes items referring to gender-role stereotypes (e.g., “The place of a woman is near her husband and being a good mother”), as well as attitudes toward women’s career advancement (e.g., “It is not acceptable for women to assume leadership roles as often as men”). Results showed that, although overall attitudes toward women in management were slightly positive (M ¼ 3.34 out of 5; SD ¼ 0.48), there was a significant gender difference: females held slightly more positive attitudes toward women managers (M ¼ 3.51, SD ¼ 0.57) than did males (M ¼ 3.21, SD ¼ 0.44). The factor analysis of WAMS revealed two orthogonal dimensions: “Gender-Role Stereotypes” included items related to perceptions of women’s competence to be successful in work life, as well as how capable they were to handle work and family responsibilities; “Attitudes Toward Women’s Career Advancement” reflected the extent to which society accepted women as key decisionmakers in business life. Both men and women scored in the middle in terms of gender-role stereotypes. This suggested that there was doubt about women’s competence (e.g., assertiveness, intelligence, willingness) to become successful business leaders. The doubt also existed regarding working women’s ability to handle work and family responsibilities. It was particularly interesting to note that women agreed significantly more than men with the item stating: “The place of a woman is near her husband and being a good mother.” Earlier studies in Turkey (e.g., Erg€ uder et al. 1991; Ka
gıt¸cıba¸sı 1986; Kandiyoti 1978) found a similar pattern, revealing that Turkish women held somewhat more “traditional” gender-role stereotypes compared to men, and that they considered maintaining a happy home and being a good mother and wife to be the most important success criteria in life. One explanation for this observation may be that, according to Glick and Fiske’s (2001) System Justification Theory, women feel that they have to internalize negative

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societal stereotypes and prejudices (i.e., benevolent sexism) in cultures where such stereotypes and prejudices are too strong and hostile (i.e., hostile sexism) to fight against. In such contexts, women opt to accept and even support the stereotypes that disadvantage them (e.g., women should not work) by using various justifications (e.g., protection of the family). An alternative explanation suggests that females may find it more appropriate to “think like men” and suppress their “feminist” attitudes in order to gain acceptance in male-dominated organizational cultures (Kabasakal 1998). While supporting traditional gender stereotypes, on the one hand, men and women in our sample agreed that women’s status in work life should be improved: both men and women scored highly on the second factor assessing attitudes toward women’s career advancement (M ¼ 3.78 and 4.53, respectively). This apparent paradox could be explained in two ways. First, societal expectation is such that women should excel in their careers without compromising their domestic responsibilities. Second, the findings may point to the perceived discrepancy between the “actual” (i.e., women are less competent than men) and the “ideal” status of women (i.e., they should be more competent) in society. In the next study, Aycan et al. (2006) examined the ways in which organizational context (e.g., percentage of women managers in the organization, quality, and duration of the relationship with women managers) interacted with gender-role stereotypes to predict attitudes towards women managers. The data were collected from 460 whitecollar employees holding managerial and non-managerial positions in twenty-three different business organizations in Turkey. The findings revealed that gender-role stereotypes moderated the relationship between organizational context and attitudes toward women managers. The percentage of women managers in the organization was positively related to attitudes of women toward women managers, especially when they held egalitarian gender-role stereotypes. On the other hand, the quality (not the quantity or duration) of the interaction with women managers was positively related to attitudes of men, especially when they held egalitarian gender-role stereotypes. These findings imply that when employees are egalitarian and open-minded in terms of gender roles, organizational context (especially the presence of women in managerial positions and the quality of interaction with them) contributes to the development of positive attitudes toward women managers. However, when people are negative and conservative in their stereotypes regarding gender roles, they tend to maintain their attitudes regardless of the organizational context and personal experiences. This runs in parallel with the findings in social psychology literature that the more rigid

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the attitude, the more difficult it is to change it through interventions (e.g., Visser and Cooper 2003). Family context: work–family conflict Traditional gender-role stereotypes are not only associated with negative attitudes toward women managers in organizations, but also related to experiences of work–family conflict (WFC). Inability to balance work and family responsibilities is another strong barrier to women’s career advancement, especially in cultures where there is low gender egalitarianism (Aycan in press). WFC is a type of inter-role conflict that occurs as a result of incompatible role pressures from work and family domains (Greenhaus and Beutell 1985). The conflict between work and family is bi-directional (Gutek et al. 1991): work may interfere with the family domain (work-to-family conflict; W-to-FC) and family may interfere with the work domain (family-to-work conflict; F-to-WC). The next set of studies (Aycan and Eskin 2005; Aycan et al. 2007) examined the prevalence as well as antecedents and consequences of work–family conflict experienced by women professionals in Turkey. A total of 434 full-time employees (237 women and 197 men) in dualearner families with at least one child in preschool participated in the study. The data came from branches of four banks in thirty-eight different cities. Two-thirds of the sample held a university degree, which is representative of the population of professionals or white-collar employees in corporate business life in Turkey. Forty-four percent of women and 58 percent of men held managerial positions. Regarding the prevalence of WFC, findings revealed that both men and women allowed work to interfere with their family responsibilities more than they allowed family to interfere with their work responsibilities. This was in line with Pleck’s (1977) asymmetric boundary permeability theory. The theory predicts that work and family boundaries are asymmetrically permeable; that is, W-to-FC is more prevalent than F-to-WC. However, gender differences existed in the extent to which work interfered with family: women professionals in Turkey experienced W-to-FC to a greater extent than men. Work’s interference with family results in higher conflict for women than for men because traditional gender role expectations in society do not allow it (Parasuraman et al. 1996), and women feel less control over their ability to satisfy work and family expectations (Duxbury and Higgins 1991; Duxbury et al. 1994). Working mothers are more strongly affected by parental demands than are working fathers, because they have to fulfill multiple roles simultaneously (e.g., parent, self, worker, spouse), rather than sequentially as

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do men (Hall 1972). Not only do women have more family demands than do men, but they also experience more sanctions than do men do for noncompliance with family demands (Greenhaus and Beutell 1985). Regarding perceived role demands, men reported working longer hours, but women experienced more workload than did men. Although women spent more time with their children relative to men, they were less satisfied with the time they spent with their children and less satisfied with their role as a parent. With respect to perceived support, women, compared to men, reported receiving less supervisory and spousal support. Negative outcomes of work–family conflict are reported by women to a greater extent than those reported by men: women felt more guilt for not spending enough time with the family, experienced depressive symptoms to a greater extent, reported less satisfaction with their role as a mother, and reported less positive changes in job performance one year after becoming a mother. In summary, professional women in Turkey felt more overworked and less supported than their male counterparts. As a result, they experienced work-to-family conflict to a greater extent than did men, leading to negative psychological outcomes such as guilt, depression, and dissatisfaction with parenthood. Multiple regression analyses testing the strongest predictors of work– family conflict for men and women revealed that the model for women was more complex than that which emerged for men. For women, the following conditions had to be met in order to experience work–family balance: emotional support from spouse, organizational support to balance work–family demands, low workload at work, satisfaction with childcare facilities, and perception that their child was satisfied with the time they spent together. For men, there were only two conditions for not experiencing work–family conflict: low workload at work and low workload at home (i.e., instrumental support from the spouse). It appears that, to experience less role conflict, women have to feel that they satisfy the needs of the family, and in return, receive appreciation and psychological support, whereas men have to feel that they are not overburdened with extra work at work and at home. Although factors leading to work–family conflict differed for men and women, the consequences were the same for both genders: lower satisfaction with life, with marital relationship and with parental role, and higher depressive symptoms and guilt. Conclusions and policy implications The state ideology of the Turkish Republic was to promote westernization and modernization of the society. The improvements in women’s

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status were considered the key indicators of societal development. The reforms have been successful to a significant degree, particularly among middle and upper income groups in urban areas, while their influence has been limited among lower socio-economic groups and in rural areas (Kabasakal et al. 2004). In this chapter, I attempted to summarize the findings of research examining the factors facilitating and inhibiting the career development of professional women in Turkey. It should be noted that what is being described here cannot represent the experiences of working women in Turkey, but rather that of urban, middle to upper class, and well-educated women professionals. Even though women were given many rights and privileges in social and political spheres earlier than their western counterparts, they have been struggling with a multitude of problems in social (e.g., illiteracy, wife-beatings, honor killings, arranged marriages at very young age) and work life. Women’s paid work is highly concentrated in low paid, laborintensive, or informal sectors in adverse work conditions and without social security. There is a significant wage gap between men and women in both public and private sectors, while the gap is lower in the former than the latter case (cf. Kabasakal et al. 2004). Contrary to the disadvantageous position of women in general, those with middle and upper socio-economic backgrounds enjoy high levels of representation in high status professions. The ratio of women in high status professions can be considered to be high in comparison to many developed western societies. There are a number of reasons that can explain Turkish women’s high representation in professional jobs. First, Turkish women are able to rely on their family networks (e.g., mother, mother-in-law, and other extended family members) for childcare. If family support is unavailable, women, especially of middle and upper socio-economic status (SES), hire help (i.e., nannies) to care for their children. Due to large-scale migration from rural parts of Turkey to urban cities, many women from low socio-economic backgrounds work as cleaners and babysitters. This inexpensive labor is affordable for dualcareer families. In Turkey, daycare centers are not as common as homebased childcare. Whereas companies with more than fifty women are obliged by law to provide daycare, the majority does not offer this service, and instead pay the fine, claiming high cost and geographical dispersion among branches. The second positive influence on women’s career advancement is that Turkish corporate life is relatively young and still developing. It is difficult to find sufficiently qualified candidates to fill professional positions. With demand exceeding supply, there is less competition for managerial and professional positions. Qualification is the main criterion

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in the recruitment process, not gender. One is seen as qualified by having had a good education, and a good education is accessible primarily to those of urban standing and a high socio-economic status. Women’s career success, therefore, depends primarily on social class (Kabasakal 1998). Third, organizational culture in Turkey can generally be considered as “family-friendly.” Paternalism is a salient cultural dimension in Turkey (Aycan 2006). Paternalism in organizations implies that there is a family-like climate in organizations where superiors are concerned with and involved in the professional as well as personal lives of their subordinates. This creates a “family-friendly” organizational culture where women’s needs to handle work and family responsibilities are understood and tolerated. Despite the high representation of women in professional jobs, the low percentage in senior executive and decision-making positions points to the existence of the glass-ceiling phenomenon. According to the findings of research presented in this chapter, what are the factors that facilitate and hinder career development of women professionals in Turkey? Women who made it to the top attributed their success to individual, rather than situational, factors. Self-confidence, selfdetermination, career-orientation, and achievement-orientation emerged as characteristics to which women managers attributed their success. The majority of them reported not being discriminated against in organizations. As far as societal barriers are concerned, the most significant challenge they faced was to meet society’s expectation to be good mothers and wives. Even though they acknowledge the importance of organizational and societal barriers, they reported overcoming them through self-confidence and decisiveness. The majority of women managers who participated in this study were from privileged backgrounds; they were educated in good schools and their parents were supportive of their career development. This should be noted as another important factor contributing to their success and positive experiences in work life. Women managers who participated in our study observed that the most important barrier facing women in Turkey is the traditional genderrole stereotype in society. According to Kabasakal et al. (2004), “Turkish society is simultaneously characterized by traditionalism versus modernity, religiousness versus secularism, and eastern versus western values. These dynamics create role conflicts and identity crises on the part of professional women. Professional women face the issue of satisfying the gender-role stereotypes that are prevalent in society and the role of a professional woman” (p. 283). Based on recent cross-cultural

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data including sixty-one countries, Kabasakal and Bodur (2002) showed that cultural practices and norms that are prevalent in Turkey were low in gender equality. The role of mother and wife conflicts with career roles of women. Traditional gender-role stereotypes raise doubts about two issues: women’s ability to succeed in managerial jobs and women’s ability to balance work and family responsibilities. The subsequent studies (Aycan 2004; Aycan et al. 2006) presented in this chapter revealed that, although male and female employees supported women’s career advancement to managerial positions, they were doubtful about women’s competence to succeed in decisionmaking posts because of their dual responsibility to handle work and family. Indeed, Aycan and Eskin (2005) found that women experienced work–family conflict to a greater extent than did men. However, the level of work–family conflict experienced by women was not so high as to be alarming. One of the most important support mechanisms identified in the studies presented here was the female role models in women’s lives. Women managers in the first study reported the importance of their mothers as role models and supporters of their careers. In the study by Aycan et al. (2006), presence of women managers in organizations and high quality of interactions with them were associated with positive attitudes toward women managers, especially for those adhering to egalitarian gender-role stereotypes. In conclusion, although the status of women in Turkish social, economic, and political life can do much to improve, women professionals are not at a severe disadvantage vis-a-vis their counterparts in the western developed countries. As is the case in many countries of the world, the presence of women in leadership positions should be increased in Turkey. To promote this, organizations can initiate leadership development programs for women. Even though laws prohibits human resource management practices that are discriminatory against women, there are problems in the enforcement of these laws. For example, recruiters still ask questions concerning women’s plans in their private lives (e.g., whether or not they plan to get married or have children) and base their decisions on them. Another suggestion would be to instate institutional regulations to allow flexible working hours for women, which will greatly enhance the work–family balance. Perhaps most important of all is women’s support for women. Women are primary socialization agents in society and socialization starts in the family. Mothers must raise their children (especially male children) with egalitarian values and practices. Mothers and mothers-in-law should be supportive of their daughters’ career decisions, rather than blaming

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them for being a bad wife or mother. Such criticisms from other women (especially mothers) are the most hurtful. Women in high status positions should be the mentors (through official or unofficial mentorship programs) to other women who are trying to climb the career ladder. Women need strong figures like Professor Ci
¸ gdem Ka
gıtc¸ ıba¸sı, for inspiration, motivation, courage, and support. references Z. F. Arat, Deconstructing Images of the Turkish Woman (New York: Palgrave, 1999). Z. Aycan, “Key success factors for women in management in Turkey,” Applied Psychology: An International Review, 53 (2004), 453–77. Z. Aycan, “Paternalism: Towards conceptual refinement and operationalization,” in K. S. Yang, K. K. Hwang, and U. Kim (eds.), Scientific Advances in Indigenous Psychologies: Empirical, Philosophical, and Cultural Contributions (London: Cambridge University Press, 2006), pp. 445–66. Z. Aycan, “Cross-cultural approaches to work-family conflict,” in K. Korabik and D. Lero (eds.), Handbook of Work–family Conflict (London: Sage, in press). Z. Aycan and M. Eskin, “Childcare, spousal, and organizational support in predicting work–family conflict for females and males in dual-earner families with preschool children,” Sex Roles, 53 (2005), 453–71. Z. Aycan, M. Bayazıt, Y. Berkman, and H. B. Boratav, “Attitudes towards women managers: Development of a new measure,” paper presented at the 26th International Conference of Applied Psychology, Athens, Greece, July, 2006. _ s, aile ve ki¸sisel hayatı denZ. Aycan, M. Eskin, and S. Yavuz, Hayat dengesi: I¸ geleme sanatı [Life Balance: The Art of Balancing Work, Family and Personal Life],” ( Istanbul: Sistem Yayıncılık, 2007). M. J. Davidson and R. J. Burke (eds.), Women in Management Worldwide: Facts, Figures and Analysis (Aldershot, UK: Ashgate, 2004). L. E. Duxbury and C. A. Higgins, “Gender differences in work–family conflict,” Journal of Applied Psychology, 76 (1991), 60–74. L. E. Duxbury, C. Higgins, and C. Lee, “Work–family conflict: A comparison by gender, family type, and perceived control,” Journal of Family Issues, 15 (1994), 449–66. S. Eker Organizational and personal correlates of attitudes toward women as managers: A study in Turkey. Unpublished MA Thesis (Bogazici University, Istanbul: Institute for Graduate Studies in Social Sciences, 1989). U. Erg€ uder, Y. Esmer, and E. Kalaycıo
glu, Turk toplumunun degerleri [Values of Turkish Society] ( Istanbul: TUSIAD, 1991). P. Glick and S. T. Fiske, “An ambivalent alliance: Hostile and benevolent sexism as complementary justifications for gender inequality,” American Psychologist, 56 (2001), 109. J. H. Greenhaus and N. J. Beutell, “Sources of conflict between work and family roles,” Academy of Management Review, 10 (1985), 76–88.

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B. A. Gutek, S. Searle, and L. Klepa, “Rational versus gender role explanations for work–family conflict,” Journal of Applied Psychology, 76 (1991), 560–68. K. G€ ur€ uz, D€ unyada ve T€ urkiye’de y€ uksek€og
retim: Tarihc¸e ve bug€ unk€ u sevk ve idare Sistemleri [Higher Education in Turkey and the World: History and Adminis€ tration Systems] (Ankara: OSYM Publications, 2001). D. T. Hall, “A model of coping with role conflict: The role of behavior of collegeeducated women,” Administrative Science Quarterly, 17 (1972), 471–89. A. Hancıo
glu, I. Koc¸ , and M. Dayıo
glu, The Status of Children and Women in Turkey (Ankara: UNICEF, 2001). _ A. Inan, Kadının sosyal hayatını tetkik kurumu: Aylık konferanslar [Studying Women’s Social Life] (Ankara: Ayyıldız Press, 1967). H. Kabasakal, “Top women managers in Turkey,” in 75 yılda kadınlar ve erkekler ( Istanbul: Tarih Vakfı, 1998), pp. 303–12. H. Kabasakal, Z. Aycan, and F. Karaka¸s, “Women in management in Turkey,” in M. J. Davidson and R. Burke (eds.), Women in Management Worldwide: Progress and Prospects (Aldershot, UK: Ashgate, 2004). H. Kabasakal and M. Bodur, “Arabic cluster: A bridge between East and West,” Journal of World Business, 105 (2002), 1–25. C. ¸ Ka
gıtc¸ ıba¸sı, “Status of women in Turkey: Cross-cultural perspectives,” International Journal of Middle East Studies, 18 (1986), 485–99. D. Kandiyoti, “Urban change and women’s roles in Turkey: An overview and evaluation,” in C. ¸ Ka
gıtc¸ ıba¸sı (ed.), Sex Roles, Family, and Community in Turkey (Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1978), pp. 101–20. T. Morrison, W. A. Conaway, and G. A. Borden, Kiss, Bow, or Shake Hands. (Avon, MA: Adams Media Corporation, 1994). S. Parasuraman, Y. S. Purohit, and V. M. Godshalk, “Work and family variables, entrepreneurial career success, and psychological well-being,” Journal of Vocational Behavior, 48 (1996), 275–300. L. H. Peters, J. R. Terborg, and J. Taylor, “Women as managers scale: A measure of attitudes toward women in management positions,” JSAS Catalog of Selected Documents in Psychology, Ms. No. 585, 1974. J. H. Pleck, “The work–family role system,” Social Problems, 24 (1977), 417–27. SIS (State Institute of Statistics), Census of Population: Social and Economic Characteristics (Ankara: State Institute of Statistics Press, 2000). P. Tharenou and D. Conroy, “Men and women managers’ advancement: Personal or situational determinants?,” Applied Psychology: An International Review, 43 (1994), 5–31. P. S. Visser and J. Cooper, “Attitude change,” in M. A. Hogg and J. Cooper (eds.), The Sage Handbook of Social Psychology (London: Sage, 2003), pp. 211–31. € T. Ozmen, € I. U. Zeytino
glu, O. Katrinli, H. Kabasakal, and Y. Arbak, “Factors affecting female managers’ careers in Turkey,” in M. Cınar ¸ (ed.), The Economics of Women and Work in the Middle East and North Africa (Greenwich, CT: JAI Press, 2001), pp. 225–46.

V

Induced change

18

Adapting intervention programs for use across societies: Between valid transfer and cultural imposition Ype H. Poortinga

A few conferences held around 1970 were crucial for the development of cross-cultural psychology. u´idem attended one of these early meetings, organized by L. Cronbach and P. Drenth in Istanbul in 1971. It also happened to be my first international cross-cultural congress. Since then we have met many times and cooperated on various projects. In retrospect the Istanbul conference seems to be one of the few times when we did not (yet) have academic disagreements. I have learned a lot from the lucid arguments with which u´idem has questioned my viewpoints and this may be a good place to express my appreciation. For the present chapter I have chosen a topic about which we have not argued much, perhaps because we hold rather similar opinions. It deals with one aspect of a significant part of u´idems work, namely intervention programs.

The construction, implementation, and evaluation of intervention programs have developed into a major field of applied psychology. Such programs are meant to bring about changes in behavior in ways that promote the competencies and wellbeing of program clients. This chapter mainly pertains to programs aiming at compensation of educational deficits, community development, and unhealthy or potentially unhealthy forms of behavior. There is a focus on disadvantaged groups with low education, low income, and low access to opportunities for development. The question addressed is whether a program that has shown to be effective in one cultural population can be expected to also work in other populations, i.e., will a program still be effective when it is transferred from the cultural context in which it was developed to some other context? Transfer as meant here amounts to the application of psychological tools developed for one group (the source culture, or culture of origin) to another group (the target culture). Such transfer can, but need not, imply changes in a program to make the contents or methods of administration more suited to the target population. 301

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The alternative to transfer of a program is the development of a new program for each group that is taken to differ from the source population. As a rule, a program developed for a group will have a better cultural fit than a transferred program. Still, there are reasons why program transfer should be considered. First, the development and testing of an original program is costly and time consuming. Resources are always limited, but particularly in the majority world. It makes sense to make use of available programs, provided they are suitable for the target group. Second, transfer of a program comes with research already conducted previously. If a transferred program is effective in a target group, it stands to reason that theoretical underpinnings and empirical interrelationships also apply in that group; at least, this is a good starting proposition (Poortinga 1995). Third, transfer of programs adds to an accumulating body of knowledge more than a string of separate programs that are unrelated to each other. Of course, the points mentioned are not an argument against the construction of new programs, but there should be reasonable expectations that a new program will lead to better results than an existing one. An example of the transfer of an educational enrichment program comes from the Turkish Early Enrichment Project (TEEP) (Ka
gıtc¸ ıba¸sı 1991). This is a stimulation program for disadvantaged preschool children and their mothers. The mothers are taught to provide a stimulating environment for the cognitive development of their children, and should profit themselves from a mother enrichment module. The origin lies in the Home Intervention Program for Preschool Youngsters (HIPPY), that was developed originally in Israel (Lombard 1981) and has been transferred to several countries. The effectiveness of TEEP in Turkey was evaluated positively, also longitudinally, over a period of as many as twenty-two years (Ka
gıt¸cıba¸sı et al. in press). Later, the program was replaced by a shorter and less intensive mother–child education program that could reach larger numbers of women. These Turkish programs have been implemented, often in part, in various other countries, including, Bahrain, Belgium, France, Germany, the Netherlands, and Saudi Arabia (e.g., Eldering and Vedder 1999; Headeed 2005). In this chapter I first argue that transfer of programs can make sense theoretically, be it only in so far as there are cross-cultural similarities both in human psychological functioning and in the ecocultural and socio-cultural niches in which this functioning takes place. Then I describe principles developed for the transfer of psychometric tests that can help to assess whether original and transferred versions of a program have equivalent outcomes in the respective cultural groups in which they are administered. Thereafter, I briefly refer to strategies for transferring

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programs. In the penultimate section, I mention the overriding ethical issue of cultural imposition. The final section offers some conclusions. Legitimating program transfer Each cultural group, however defined, can be said to be unique. When people are socialized in different cultural environments their behavior repertoire will show differences. Transfer from one group to another of psychological tools, such as tests, psychotherapies, and intervention programs, implies invariably at least some degree of cultural imposition. After all, such tools were tuned originally to the cultural context and practices of the population for which they were developed. The first theoretical question is to what extent cross-cultural differences in behavior are best explained in terms of culturally unique underlying psychological principles and to what extent it makes sense to start from psychological processes and traits presumably shared by all humans. Relativism and universalism represent the two well-known but contrasting answers to this question (Berry et al. 2002). The position taken here is that an open mind for undue cultural impositions and a pragmatic approach with emphasis on empirical findings is the best way to advance applied cross-cultural psychology (Ka
gıt¸cıba¸sı and Poortinga 2000). In my view, the accumulated evidence of culture-comparative research in individual psychological functioning, including cognition, personality, and emotions (Berry et al. 2002) as well as social functioning (for example, in family context; Georgas et al. 2006), provides a solid basis for substantial psychological similarities in traits and processes across cultures even quite far apart in behavior repertoire. This makes the pursuit of transfer of interventions a promising starting point. There is a second question that bears in a general way on the scope for transfer of psychological interventions, namely, at which level of generality or inclusion relationships between behavior and culture should be defined (Poortinga 2003). Cross-cultural research often starts with the recording of differences between cultural groups. Attempts to explain such differences tend to result in postulates of psychocultural dimensions at a high level of abstraction. Researchers who assume that behavior in cultural context is best described in terms of broad and inclusive concepts are inclined to examine how diverse phenomena can make sense in terms of one or a few dimensions. Examples are individualismcollectivism (Hofstede 1980; Triandis 1989) and Ka
gıtc¸ ıba¸sı’s (2007) model of family relationships based on the distinction between independent and interdependent modes of socialization. However, data can also be interpreted in terms of specific notions, such as cultural rules

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and practices that are limited to narrow categories of situations. Relevant notions include “customs,” “rules,” “symbols,” and “practices” (Girndt 2000). Such notions not only refer to overt behavior, but also include norms and beliefs, ways to handle problems (e.g., believing that stone houses are better than wooden houses), and explanations of other rules (e.g., looking someone in the eye while talking shows honesty and openness, versus looking someone in the eye is a sign of disrespect). From such a perspective a culture can be defined as the total set of practices that make up the behavior repertoire of a group. Again, a pragmatic approach is recommended. Cross-cultural differences in psychological functioning at a high level of generality are not ruled out, but less inclusive interpretations are easier to validate. Also, such interpretations can be more precise as they stay closer to the behavior they are meant to explain. A third question, overlapping somewhat with the relativismuniversalism distinction, is to what extent behavior should be understood in terms of cultural meanings and to what extent in terms of external ecocultural or socio-cultural antecedents. It is evident that a substantial amount of variance is accounted for by the actual conditions in which people live. The most powerful explanatory variable in cross-cultural psychology is Gross National Product (GNP) (Georgas et al. 2004), which also happens to be the broadest denominator of the environmental conditions people have to cope with. It is a proxy variable for numbers of years of school education, access to information and media, and control over one’s life. Differences in GNP can account for most national differences in measurements of a broad dimension such as individualismcollectivism, as shown by Ka
gıt¸cıba¸sı (1997). In addition, developmental economists (e.g., Sen 2000) and civil society groups (e.g., Pick and Ruesga in press) start from the assumption that across societies, at least in the majority world, people’s way of life is characterized by similarities in conditions of poverty and lack of educational opportunities. Especially, women and children have to cope with lack of access to privileges and the psychological consequences of social inequality. Indices such as the Gini coefficient and the HDI (Human Development Index) (UNDP 2006) reflect conditions across nations, taking into consideration traditionally more powerless groups. Authors like Sen, and Pick and Ruesga imply that similar factors across societies impede, or facilitate, changes in behavior. The cross-cultural equivalence of such factors is hardly ever challenged. This provides an important reason why it should be possible to define directions and goals for desirable changes in behavior that hold across societies (Ka
gıt¸cıba¸sı 2007). In summary, one needs to be aware that cultural specificity of behavior and context are likely to impose limits on the success of transfer of

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programs to other populations. At the same time, cross-cultural similarities in psychological functioning appear to make it worthwhile to examine the scope for program transfer. Assessing equivalence The transfer and adaptation of psychometric tests and scales across cultures has often been criticized because of numerous factors that can affect the answers to test items but are not related in the same way to the construct or domain which is the target of assessment. Among test users, it has long been recognized that transferred tests are likely to be biased, implying that test scores do not have the same meaning across cultural groups (Van de Vijver and Leung 1997). At the same time, many wellknown western instruments, including intelligence batteries, clinical scales, and personality inventories have been adapted for use in nonwestern as well as other western countries (e.g., Georgas et al. 2003; McCrae and Allik 2002), The success of such adaptations can be examined with the help of an extensive set of methods designed to analyze whether scores obtained in various cultural groups are equivalent and can be compared, or are lacking in equivalence due to cultural bias. Equivalence is not a matter of all or none. Various levels of equivalence can be distinguished and, for each of these, statistical conditions have been formulated that are likely to be met when data are equivalent, and not met when data are lacking in equivalence across cultures. My argument is that distinctions between levels of equivalence and associated analysis methods for test transfer by and large also apply to program transfer. Bias in cross-cultural data is not limited to psychological tests; it can affect any psychological operationalization and even nonpsychological variables. For example, in economics monetary income as an index of affluence would be biased in a comparison of two countries if the one has a large and the other a limited informal market sector. Following traditions of test score comparison, four levels of equivalence are distinguished (Fontaine 2005; Poortinga 1989). Conceptual equivalence pertains to the question of whether a given construct can be meaningfully defined not only in the source society but also in the target society. For example, in a recent study Breugelmans and Poortinga (2006) could demonstrate that Raramuri in Mexico who use a single word for the emotions of shame and guilt report differences in reactions to shame and guilt scenarios that correspond to reaction patterns in an international student sample. Thus, shame and guilt appear to be psychologically distinct for the Raramuri in a similar way as for speakers of English; the emotions can be said to be conceptually

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equivalent for the groups mentioned. In contrast, a concept such as reading ability and a domain such as traffic rules do not appear to make sense in a rural illiterate society; as usually understood, these notions are not pertinent to illiterates’ behavior repertoire. Structural equivalence has to do with the question of whether a measure reflects the same construct or domain in each of the cultural groups that are being compared. For psychometric scales, structural equivalence is often examined by equating the structure of interrelations between the items. A scale is taken to be structurally equivalent when the factor structure of the items is similar across cultures (Van de Vijver and Leung 1997). Evidence of structural equivalence implies that one and the same operationalization (instrument) can be used in the cultural groups at hand. The same reasoning can also be applied to assess whether a transferred intervention program addresses the same aspect of behavior in the target group as the original did in the source group. Factor analysis or related techniques can be used to determine whether scales administered to evaluate program effectiveness show evidence of structural equivalence in source and target groups. Also, focus groups or interviews are methods with which data for analysis of program equivalence can be collected before the start of program administration. In so far as conditions for equivalence are not met, the program is likely to have addressed non-equivalent aspects of behavior across cultures. Metric equivalence, or measurement unit equivalence, implies that units or steps on a measurement scale are the same across cultures. (This is often illustrated with measurements of temperature. A one-degree change represents a larger shift in temperature on a Celsius scale than on a Fahrenheit scale, making these scales metrically inequivalent. If program effects on a set of outcome variables are assessed across cultures, patterns of change (e.g., between pre- and post-measures) can be meaningfully compared only if conditions for metric equivalence are satisfied. Analysis methods include analysis of variance with culture as a factor and regression analysis; in an ANOVA, the culture by items interaction term forms evidence of bias. Full-score equivalence implies that scores on a single variable can be compared at face value. This requires, in addition to metric equivalence, that there is a common standard (or reference score) shared by the source and target culture. This level of equivalence requires a precision in assessment that neither is necessary for meaningful program transfer nor likely to be reached, unless cultural groups are so similar that the need for program changes is not even a point of discussion. In summary, techniques developed to evaluate the quality of test transfer across cultures are hardly known in the field of program transfer.

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This is to be deplored, as there are many parallel issues in the methodology of test transfer and program transfer. Proactive strategies in program transfer Transfer of programs may take various forms. A distinction can be made between adoption, adaptation, and assembly (e.g., Van de Vijver and Poortinga 2005). With adoption, a program is administered in the target group, staying close to the original. Program content and materials are not altered, and translation is as precise as possible. Adaptation refers to the direct transfer of some program elements, while elements that do not transfer well are changed or replaced. Assembly amounts to the new development of major parts or an entire program for the target culture. There may be common themes and goals in the original and the new versions of a program, but content and/or methods of implementation will be largely different. Which of these three approaches is followed depends on the need for changes as perceived by program developers. The main determinant is the difference in behavior repertoire between the source and target cultures. In the case of adoption, the expectation is that a program will function much the same in the target group as it did in the source population. Minor changes may be needed that are a matter of common sense, such as replacement of names of animal and plant species to fit local flora and fauna. There can be all kinds of incidental bias, but after removal or replacement of biased program items conditions for structural equivalence should be met, otherwise the adoption has not been successful. In addition, conditions of metric equivalence should be satisfied if the program in the source and target groups is expected to be equally effective. The main strategy to optimize equivalence in the case of program adoption is to assure accurate translation. There are two approaches: translation with independent back translation, and the committee approach, where a group of experts comes to an agreement about the best translation. Precise equivalence is a tricky matter as there are no ways to achieve perfect translation. For example, even the use of bilinguals does not lead to a precise common standard. Small but systematic differences between language versions may arise because respondents tend to adapt their answers somewhat according to the stereotypes they hold about the culture associated with a particular language (e.g., Bond 1983; Brislin 1986). Adaptation as a strategy to make a program more suitable for a target culture frequently is based on the belief that cultural norms and values

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necessitate changes. The adaptation of larger chunks of a program or the mode of instruction (e.g., from interactive to lecture style or vice versa) requires explicit theoretical notions about what is essential in the program and how this essence can be best retained in the target culture. Conditions for structural equivalence should be satisfied if adaptation has been successful. There are numerous sources of information and professional practices that can inform the adaptation process. One such source is a set of guidelines for test adaptation put together by the International Test Commission (2001; Van de Vijver and Hambleton 1996). The twenty-two guidelines are divided into four categories: context, test development and adaptation, administration, and documentation/interpretation. A guideline has the form of a short statement. With each explanation, steps to meet it, common errors, and a list of references are provided. Several of these guidelines also apply to program adaptation. The most important resource in program adaptation is local consultants who are asked for direct advice and members of the target group whose opinions are usually probed in interviews or focus groups (Venguer et al. 2007). To this resource belong also local program facilitators who will administer the program after transfer. In a transfer project of a Mexican education program for women to Guatemala, Leenen et al. (2008) report that adaptations were made on the basis of suggestions of facilitators from the target region while they were being trained to implement the program in their communities. The advantage of such a procedure is that facilitators during the training not only gain expert knowledge about the goals and content of the program, but at the same time contribute expertise they have about their own culture to program adaptation. In the case of program assembly, much of the work involved in original program development has to be carried out. Here, program developers have to consider what is to be gained from a connection with the original program. The alternative is to construct an entirely new program, which is likely to be geared better to the culture of the client group than a program originally developed for a culturally different group, but misses the advantages of transfer mentioned in the introduction. With program assembly, the transferred program should be conceptually equivalent to the original; any other form of equivalence, including structural equivalence, cannot really be expected. In the introduction I mentioned the extensive transfer of the HIPPY and TEEP programs. In the intervention literature TEEP is among a few outstanding cases for which there is long-term evaluation of effectiveness. Moreover, evaluations of effectiveness after transfer are available

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from various countries, although over much shorter periods (e.g., Eldering and Vedder 1999). Sometimes changes have been made for practical reasons, such as the need for a shorter program with a less costly mode of implementation (e.g., weekly sessions with mothers instead of sessions combined with home visits). Less than satisfactory effectiveness in a target population has also been mentioned as a reason for changes (e.g., Eldering and Vedder 1999; Van Tuijl et al. 2001). Adaptations made to programs like HIPPY and TEEP for cultural reasons in the various transfer projects have not been extensive (Bekman, personal communication, November 2006). For example, in the original adaptation of HIPPY to the Dutch context, modifications were limited to the language of instruction (which varied for mothers of different migrant groups) and administration in ethnically homogeneous groups (unlike in Israel) (Eldering and Vedder 1999). However, less successful modules tend to be replaced by newly constructed ones, informed by new theory. In a database such as Psychlit, numerous publications can be found on program transfer across cultural groups. State of the art is the demonstration of program effectiveness as a statistically significant outcome (p < 0.05) in a quasi-experimental design with pre- and postmeasurements in a control and a treatment group. In most publications, it is difficult to gauge how changes in programs were made and the extent to which adaptations are more than incidental. Authors often mention that a program was adapted to the cultural values, norms, and/ or beliefs of a target population. Although extensive adaptations do occur (e.g., Matos et al. 2006), most changes that are mentioned appear to be pretty mundane. Examples include use of Spanish materials in a remedial reading program for bilingual Latin American children (Slavin and Madden 1999), the replacement of names of food plants in a module on nutrition (Leenen et al. 2008), changes in depiction of people to match the ethnic appearance of the target population (Spoth et al. 2003), or making language more appealing to a target group of youngsters (Komro et al. 2006). At the same time, the literature is likely to be biased for at least two reasons. First, most publications involve transfer within the US, bridging in several respects a rather narrow range of cultural variation. Second, unsuccessful attempts at transfer are unlikely to be reported in publications. About the extent of such publication biases, one can only speculate. Not only do program content and method of implementation need to be considered in transfer projects. There are all kinds of additional factors that can affect success. Some of these are inherent to the program (other content might have worked better). Other factors lie in the broader environment (affecting, presumably, any program). Among the

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latter are attitudes of local political and religious leaders to intervention, and, in the case of programs for women, the attitudes of the men. Advocacy to influence these stakeholders may be crucial for program success (Givaudan et al. 2005), but it is a matter of definition whether advocacy is seen as part of a program (in which case relevant activities are to be described in the program manual) or as part of the large array of external conditions that determine whether a program can or cannot be implemented in a community or even an entire region. Definitely to be seen as part of a program is the mode of teaching and learning. In traditional societies, programs using classroom type instructions have been argued to be less effective than interactive sessions (Pick et al. 2003). This is in line with distinctions between learning in context and learning out of context or between formal and informal learning; more formal methods are likely to be less effective with populations that have little or no formal schooling (e.g., Segall et al. 1999). In conclusion, program authors have to decide beforehand whether transfer should take the form of adoption, adaptation, or assembly. In most studies referred to in this section – and, it seems to me, in the literature in general – changes in content to adapt a program to a new target population are not extensive, bordering on program adoption. Only at the concrete level of object names, linguistic expressions, and specific cultural practices is there a substantial probability of misfit and need for localized program content. As mentioned before, the literature is likely to be biased, most evidently by poorly reflecting the entire range of global cultural variation; transfer to and transfer among non-western, rural, and illiterate societies are seriously underrepresented. The role of clients in program transfer The rationale for an intervention program lies in the perceived needs of the intended program clients. Especially for more extensive programs, the first stage in the construction and implementation of a new program is an inventory of the needs and problems to be addressed, and the identification of constraints that limit readiness for change and opportunities for intervention. Collection of relevant information from members of the client group is a basic requirement (Pick et al. 2003). With program adoption and to a lesser extent with adaptation an existing program is a given. This implies cultural imposition; clients in a new target group are not being consulted before the development of the actual program. This is an important concern that needs to be addressed, for example by consultations among representatives of the client group at the start of a transfer project (Leenen et al. 2008).

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Imposition is a matter of degree; in any project, the potential benefits of a program have to be balanced against the incursions in people’s lives. The large-scale failure of economic assistance to the majority world should make program developers wary of the discrepancies between good intentions and actual outcomes. However, the risk of making errors, perhaps even grave errors, cannot be an excuse for sitting back. It should be a reason for trying to do better. Conclusions Like most topics in applied psychology, transfer of intervention programs from source cultures to target cultures is a mixture of sciencebased practice, common sense, and fashion. This chapter argues that theoretically there is scope for such transfer. The state of the art can be improved by a pragmatic orientation to cross-cultural differences and how they should influence the adoption, adaptation, or assembly of programs. Parallels with transfer of psychometric tests are suggested, an area where analysis of equivalence was developed in reaction to strong challenges of cross-cultural score comparisons. An equivalence framework not only offers suggestions on how control of comparability of source and target versions of programs can be improved, but also illustrates how a systematic approach can lead to better insight in the scope and limitations of cross-cultural transfer. Programs like those of Ka
gıtc¸ ıba¸sı and her colleagues have shown that often only limited changes are needed to make a program suitable for a new client group. references J. W. Berry, Y. H. Poortinga, M. H. Segall, and P. R. Dasen, Cross-cultural Psychology: Research and Applications, Second edition (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2002). M. H. Bond, “How language variation affects inter-cultural differentiation of values by Hong Kong bilinguals,” Journal of Language and Social Psychology, 2 (1983), 57–76. S. M. Breugelmans and Y. H. Poortinga, “Emotion without a word: Shame and guilt among Raramuri Indians and rural Javanese,” Journal of Personality and Social Psychology, 91 (2006), 1111–22. R. W. Brislin, “The wording and translation of research instruments,” in W. J. Lonner and J. W. Berry (eds.), Field Methods in Cross-cultural Research (Beverly Hills, CA: Sage, 1986), pp. 137–64. L. Eldering and P. Vedder, “The Dutch experience with the home intervention program for preschool youngsters (HIPPY),” in L. Eldering and P. P. M. Leseman (eds.), Effective Early Education: Cross-Cultural Perspectives (New York: Falmer, 1999), pp. 259–85.

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J. R. J. Fontaine, “Equivalence,” in K. Kempf-Leonard (ed.), Encyclopedia of Social Measurement, Volume 1 (San Diego, CA: Academic Press, 2005), pp. 803–13. J. Georgas, J. W. Berry, F. J. R. Van de Vijver, C. ¸ Ka
gıt¸cıba¸sı, and Y. H. Poortinga (eds.), Families across Culture: A 30-nation Study (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2006). J. Georgas, F. J. R. Van de Vijver, and J. W. Berry, “The ecocultural framework, ecosocial indices and psychological variables in cross-cultural research,” Journal of Cross-Cultural Psychology, 35 (2004), 74–96. J. Georgas, L. Weiss, F. J. R. Van de Vijver, and D. H. Saklofske (eds.), Cultures and Children’s Intelligence: A Cross-cultural Analysis of the WISC-III (New York: Academic Press, 2003). T. Girndt, Cultural Diversity and Work-group Performance: Detecting the Rules (Tilburg: Tilburg University Press, 2000). M. Givaudan, S. Pick, Y. H. Poortinga, C. Fuertes, and L. Gold, “A cervical cancer prevention programme in rural Mexico: Addressing women and their context,” Journal of Community and Social Psychology, 15 (2005), 338–52. J. Headeed, Poverty Begins at Home: The Mother–child Education Programme (MOCEP) in the Kingdom of Bahrain (New York: Peter Lang. 2005). G. Hofstede, Culture’s Consequences: International Differences in Work-related Values (Beverly Hills, CA: Sage, 1980). International Test Commission, International Test Commission Guidelines for Test Adapation (London: International Test Commission, 2001). C. ¸ Ka
gıtc¸ ıba¸sı, “The early enrichment project in Turkey,” UNESCO-UNICEFWFP Notes, Comments, No. 193, Paris, 1991. C. ¸ Ka
gıt¸cıba¸sı, Family and Human Development across Cultures: A View from the Other Side, 2nd ed. (Hillsdale, NJ: Lawrence Erlbaum, 2006). C. ¸ Ka
gıt¸cıba¸sı, “Individualism and collectivism,” in J. W. Berry, M. H. Segall, and C. ¸ Ka
gıt¸cıba¸sı (eds.), Handbook of Cross-cultural Psychology. Volume 3: Social Behavior and Applications (Boston, MA: Allyn & Bacon, 1997), pp. 1–49. C. ¸ Ka
gıt¸cıba¸sı and Y. H. Poortinga, “Cross-cultural psychology: Issues and overarching themes,” Journal of Cross-Cultural Psychology, 31 (2000), 129–47. C. ¸ Ka
gıt¸cıba¸sı, D. Sunar, S. Bekman, N. Baydar, and Z. Cemalcılar, “Continuing effects of early intervention in adult life: The Turkish Early Enrichment Project 22 years later,” Journal of Applied Developmental Psychology (in press). K. A. Komro, C. L. Perry, S. Veblen-Mortenson, K. Farbakhsh, K. C. Kugler, K. A. Alfano, B. S. Dudovitz, C. L. Williams, and R. Jones-Webb, “Crosscultural adaptation and evaluation of a home-based program for alcohol use: Prevention among Urban Youth: The ‘Slick Tracy Home Team Program,’” Journal of Primary Prevention, 27 (2006), 135–54. I. Leenen, M. Givaudan, S. Pick, T. Venguer, J. Vera, and Y. H. Poortinga, ‘ “Effectiveness of a Mexican health education program in a poverty-stricken rural area of Guatemala,” Journal of Cross-Cultural Psychology (2008), 138–214. A. Lombard, Success Begins at Home (Lexington, MA: Heath, 1981). R. R. McCrae and J. Allik (eds.), The Five-factor Model across Cultures (New York: Kluwer, 2002). M. Matos, R. Torres, R. Santiago, M. Jurado, and I. Rodriguez, “Adaptation of parent–child interaction therapy for Puerto Rican families: A preliminary study,” Family-Process, 45 (2006), 205–22.

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S. Pick and C. Ruesga, “Agencia y desarrollo humano: Una perspectiva empirica [Agency and human development: An empirical perspective],” in Introduccion al Enfoque de las capabilidades humanas: Principios de desarrollo humano para America Latina [Introduction to Focus on Human Capabilities: Principles of Human Development for Latin America] (Mexico DF: Fondo de Cultura Economica, in press). S. Pick, Y. H. Poortinga, and M. Givaudan, “Integrating theory and strategy in culture-sensitive health promotion programs,” Professional Psychology: Research and Practice, 34 (2003), 422–29. Y. H. Poortinga, “Equivalence of cross-cultural data: An overview of basic issues,” International Journal of Psychology, 24 (1989), 737–56. Y. H. Poortinga, “Cultural bias in assessment: Historical and thematic issues,” European Journal of Psychological Assessment, 11 (1995), 140–46. Y. H. Poortinga, “Coherence of culture and generalizability of data: Two questionable assumptions in cross-cultural psychology,” in J. Berman and J. Berman (eds.), Cross-cultural Differences in Perspectives on the Self, Volume 49 of the Nebraska Symposium on Motivation (Lincoln: University of Nebraska Press, 2003), pp. 257–305. M. H. Segall, P. R. Dasen, J. W. Berry, and Y. H. Poortinga, Human Behavior in Global Perspective, Second edition (Boston, MA: Allyn & Bacon, 1999). A. Sen, Development as Freedom (New York: Anchor Books, 2000). R. E. Slavin and N. A. Madden, “Success for all: Effects of prevention on elementary students’ reading,” in L. Eldering and P. P. M. Leseman (eds.), Effective Early Education: Cross-cultural Perspectives (New York: Falmer, 1999), pp. 205–32. R. L. Spoth, M. Guyll, W. Chao, and V. Molgaard, “Exploratory study of a preventive intervention with general population African American families,” Journal of Early Adolescence, 23 (2003), 435–68. H. C. Triandis, “The self and social behavior in differing cultural contexts,” Psychological Review, 96 (1989), 506–20. UNDP, Human Development Report (New York: Palgrave MacMillan, 2006). F. J. R. Van de Vijver and R. K. Hambleton, “Translating tests: Some practial guidelines,” European Psychologist, 1 (1996), 89–99. F. J. R. Van de Vijver and K. Leung, Methods and Data Analysis for Cross-cultural Research (Newbury Park, CA: Sage, 1997). F. J. R. Van de Vijver and Y. H. Poortinga, “Conceptual and methodological issues in adapting tests,” in R. K. Hambleton, P. F. Merenda, and C. D. Spielberger (eds.), Adapting Educational and Psychological Tests for Crosscultural Assessment (Mahwah, NJ: Lawrence Erlbaum, 2005), pp. 39–63. C. Van Tuijl, P. P. M. Leseman, and J. Rispens, “Efficacy of an intensive homebased educational intervention programme for 4- to 6-year-old ethnic minority children in the Netherlands,” International Journal of Behavioural Development, 25 (2001), 148–59. T. Venguer, S. Pick, and M. Fishbein, “Health education and agency: A comprehensive program for young women in the Mixteca region of Mexico,” Psychology, Health and Medicine, 12 (2007), 389–406.

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Design of culturally-appropriate developmental interventions Nazlı Baydar

About five years ago I would not have thought that I would be worrying (let alone writing) about cultural appropriateness of interventions. After about twenty years of doing research in the US, I believed that science was science, and theory was theory no matter where one might be located. Professor Ka
gıt¸cıba¸sı should have been, but was not, dismayed at my attitude. She merely suggested that there may be other points of view, and continued to collaborate with me in various research projects. I am deeply grateful for that opportunity.

Introduction Developmental interventions often cite an effort to make an intervention “culturally appropriate” or “culturally sensitive,” and many applied developmental scientists view such appropriateness or sensitivity as a desirable property of interventions. At the same time, “cultural appropriateness” remains largely undefined, unmeasured, and consequently of untested virtue. We, the developmental scientists, often refrain from conceptually discussing or operationalizing “cultural appropriateness.” Hence, “cultural appropriateness” remains a slogan rather than a welldefined and measured property of developmental interventions. The lack of a conceptual definition and an operationalization of cultural appropriateness of interventions are not without consequences. An effort to develop a culturally appropriate intervention without well articulated conceptual guidance may lead to well-meaning but perhaps unnecessary or even undesirable modifications of an intervention, without the possibility of evaluating whether those modifications were costeffective or whether they contribute to the effectiveness of the intervention. Furthermore, cultural appropriateness may be a quantitative, rather than a qualitative, property. If that is the case, a lack of a definition of cultural appropriateness deprives applied developmental scientists of an opportunity to assess the degree of cultural appropriateness and its implications for effectiveness. 314

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This chapter addresses the challenging issue of specifying the attributes of a “culturally appropriate” intervention. First, the task of the definition of cultural appropriateness is tackled. Second, is the issue of how to design a culturally appropriate intervention, in other words, the components of an intervention that could be changed in order to render it culturally appropriate. The concluding section discusses the strengths of the proposed framework for defining cultural appropriateness and discusses how this effort may lend itself to the assessment of the degree to which an intervention is culturally appropriate. Definition of cultural appropriateness Developmental interventions aim to achieve a positive change in the developmental trajectory of a child in a given domain (cognitive, social/ behavioral, or emotional) by altering influential aspects of a child’s ecology (family, peer, or school). The aspects of the child’s ecology that an intervention aims to change are referred to as the “targets” of intervention. The aspects of the child’s developmental trajectory that the intervention aims to change through a change in the ecology are referred to as the “outcomes” of intervention. For an intervention to be successful, there must be a causal link between a change in the target (or changes in multiple targets) and a change in the outcome (or changes in multiple outcomes). Thus, a culturally appropriate intervention must be thought of as one that would facilitate the operation of this causal process in a given socio-cultural context. A theoretical framework that links the social ecology of a child to his or her developmental outcomes is helpful in delineating how cultural factors may influence the way the causal process of a developmental intervention operates. Bronfenbrenner’s (1979) ecological systems theory helps this purpose. Culture is a component of the macrosystem of a child and will influence the child’s microsystem, mesosystem, and exosystem. The microsystem is the immediate ecology of the child. The mesosystem of the child is the interaction of the different microsystems. The exosystem consists of all the ecologies that may be in contact with the child’s microsystem. The ecological systems theory serves well as a heuristic device to systematically examine how culture may influence the operation of an intervention. There are four main areas where an intervention may be influenced by culture: 1.. Culture may directly influence the targets of intervention. 2.. Culture may directly influence the outcomes of intervention.

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3..Culture may influence the causal process that links the targets to the outcomes of intervention. 4.. Culture may influence the acceptability of the intervention process (how intervention changes targets). Each of these possibilities is discussed below by linking the intervention process to the ecological systems theory. More specifically, it will be shown that the first two alternatives, i.e., the direct influence of culture on the targets and outcomes of the intervention, may be easy to detect and their consequences for intervention effectiveness may be predictable. However, the influences of culture on the causal process itself, and the interactions among the components of that causal process, may be difficult to detect and may be severely disruptive to the intervention process, compromising its effectiveness. Research on cultural appropriateness thus far has almost exclusively focused on the fourth aspect, i.e., the acceptability of the intervention process. Culture and the targets of intervention Developmental interventions most frequently target three microsystems: child’s family, child’s school or daycare, and child’s peers (if the child is old enough). There is ample research that documents the variability of the attributes of these microsystems across social and cultural contexts. Indeed, it is likely that the cultural variability of the potential targets of interventions is the most developed area of basic research. There is ample evidence that parenting behaviors strongly differ across cultures (e.g., Bennett and Grimley 2001; Ka
gıt¸cıba¸sı 1996: 19–51; Parke and Buriel 2006). Evidence indicates that parental control (Keller et al. 2004b; Tulviste 2004; Varela et al. 2004), parental demands (Mosier and Rogoff 2003), and parental teaching behaviors (Bus et al. 2000; Kermani and Brenner 2001) differ across cultures. Indeed, such differences emerge as early as infancy (De Von Figueroa-Moseley et al. 2006; Grader 2003; Harwood et al. 1999; Keller 2003; Keller et al. 2004a, 2004b; Miller and Harwood 2002; Murase et al. 2005). These sociocultural factors and family child-rearing preferences influence preschool and childcare choices as well (Holloway et al. 1997; Liang et al. 2000). The characteristics of peer interactions among children, such as the frequency of conflict and styles of conflict resolution, are also culturally shaped (for a review, see French et al. 2005). These cultural differences will influence interventions in two ways: whether a particular intervention is necessary; and, potential floor and ceiling effects in the measurement of intervention effects. Nevertheless,

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both of these issues are about the level of the measures of targets rather than their covariance with intervention outcomes. As such, the way these issues will influence the effectiveness of an intervention is relatively easy to anticipate as long as there is sufficient research documenting cultural differences in the attributes of the microsystems. The way levels of intervention targets may influence the intervention effectiveness is an analytical question that is essentially about the variability of intervention effects. The effects of a universal or selective intervention may vary in a population because some individuals may not need the intervention. For example, in a universal or selective intervention targeting maladaptive parenting practices in order to diminish externalizing problems, some parents will not benefit from the intervention because they did not display any maladaptive parenting practices to begin with. These individuals are not expected to benefit from the intervention. If, for example, warm and supportive parenting is nearly universal in a culture, then an effort to increase such parenting practices is not likely to be effective. Floor and ceiling effects in the assessment of the effectiveness of an intervention operate similarly, though floor and ceiling effects refer to an artifact of measurement rather than a genuine attribute of the target. For example, maladaptive parenting practices may have sufficient variation in a population but in some instances that variation may not be captured with a measure that focuses on physical punishment. In this case, a floor effect will emerge, i.e., intervention subjects will all have maladaptive parenting indicators that are near the bottom of the range of that measure, suggesting that no improvement is possible. Culture and outcomes of intervention The outcomes of developmental interventions may be in the areas of cognitive, socio-emotional, or behavioral development. Most cognitive interventions focus on early childhood. Many interventions in early childhood also focus on socio-emotional and behavioral development. At school ages and beyond, interventions turn to outcomes such as specific behavior problems, self-concept, school attachment, and risk behaviors. There is some degree of agreement across societies, social classes, and cultures regarding the broad outlines of “positive” developmental outcomes in children (Bornstein 2003). However, some basic descriptive research also documents cultural variability of many outcomes. There are numerous studies on the cultural variability of language development. Although some aspects of language acquisition (e.g., acquisition of certain grammatical rules and patterns of lexicon development)

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were found to be culture invariant, many aspects of language development varied across cultures. Because of the obvious link between culture and language, cross-cultural research on language development was not included in the brief review provided here. Fewer studies investigated the cultural variability of cognitive development than that of social, behavioral, or emotional development. The development of different cognitive capacities was found to vary across cultures (Demetriou et al. 1996; Geary et al. 1996; Maynard and Greenfield 2003; Pullmann et al. 2004). Even in toddler years and early childhood, cultural influences on the development of visual motor development (Chan 2001), theory of mind (Flavell 2004; Vinden 1999), autobiographical memory (Wang et al. 2000), and attentional processes (Chavajay and Rogoff 1999) were evident. Cultural influences on socio-emotional and behavioral development were also evident in toddler years (Arbiter et al. 1999; Friedlmeier and Trommsdorff 1999). Numerous studies confirm that social development, peer relations, and the development of pro- or anti-social behaviors strongly varied across cultures in childhood and beyond (Chen et al. 1999; French et al. 2005; Jolley et al. 1998; LaFreniere et al. 2002; Pilgrim and Rueda-Riedle 2002; Rao and Stewart 1999; Wang and Leichtman 2000). Children’s development of their self-image also varied across cultures (Wang 2004). In addition, studies on children and adolescents established cultural influences on coping strategies (Frydenberg et al. 2003; McCarty et al. 1999). Many developmental indicators vary significantly and substantially across cultural contexts. Nevertheless, this variation concerns the level of the measures of outcomes. The implications of these cultural differences in outcomes are predictable. Pre-intervention levels of outcomes of an intervention may influence the need for an intervention and estimates of its effectiveness due to floor and ceiling effects. In a universal developmental intervention, many children’s outcomes may be normative, and some children’s outcomes may indicate a high level of adjustment. Among the reasons for high levels of adjustment may be socio-cultural factors. Children with high levels of adjustment prior to an intervention do not need the intervention, and if they receive such intervention, its effects would be hard to estimate because of ceiling effects. If there is a high prevalence of developmental problems in a socio-cultural context, then there may be a strong need for an intervention. An additional issue may be the relative value or priorities given to development in different domains. Prior research documents the cultural variability of preferences for different intervention outcomes, parental

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expectations regarding developmental milestones, and parental prioritization of desirable attributes of children (e.g., Joshi and MacLean 1997). The seminal nine-country Value of Children study established substantial variation in attributes valued by parents across participating countries. For example, obedience, conformity, and dependence orientation were valued in developing countries with collectivistic cultural backgrounds (Ka
gıtc¸ ıba¸sı 1982). Other studies demonstrated that parents vary across cultures not only in their preferences for the roles their children play in their families, but also in their preferences for peer and school experiences of their children (Aukrust et al. 2003). Culture and the causal process that determines the outcomes of intervention In the design of any developmental intervention, there is an implicit or explicit assumption that a change in the target of that intervention will lead to a change in the outcome. In other words, a change in the microsystem will initiate a change in the child’s developmental outcomes. Unavoidably, a change in the microsystem will result in a chain of changes including the mesosystem. By far the most important and consequential source of cross-cultural variability is the variability of this causal process in different cultural contexts. The effects of culture on the causal processes that lay in the foundation of an intervention are critically important because of three reasons. First, there may not be adequate theoretical development to formulate a valid model of the causal process in a particular cultural context, especially if that cultural context is different from the AngloAmerican context. Second, the invalidity of the assumed causal process may not be known and may not be suspected prior to or even after the implementation of the intervention. Third, the consequences of the invalidity of the assumed causal process may be severe, ranging from reduced effectiveness to undesirable outcomes. Furthermore, these consequences may be difficult to foresee because of the complex network of interactions represented by the mesosystem. Although the potential consequences of cross-cultural variability of the assumed causal processes underlying developmental interventions are severe, research provides little insight into this issue. A few examples of cross-cultural research in developmental causal processes involve the cultural variability of the processes that lead to childhood and adolescent conduct problems (Lansford et al. 2004; Le et al. 2005; Lim and Lim 2004); processes that influence adolescent adjustment more generally (Herz and Gullone 1999; Stewart et al. 2003); processes that lead to

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positive peer relations (Valdivia et al. 2005); and processes accounting for cognitive development in childhood (Portes et al. 2000). Indeed, the lack of research questioning the cross-cultural validity of “known” tenets of developmental science creates the misperception that developmental processes operate above the influence of a cultural context. Recent research by Deater-Deckard and her colleagues reveals the errors in such culture-centric assumptions. Deater-Deckard convincingly showed, in a series of papers, that the link between harsh parenting and behavioral problems may not be generalizable to some cultural contexts (Deater-Deckard and Dodge 1997; Lansford et al. 2004). An intervention cannot operate in intended ways unless its targets in the microsystem are causally linked to its expected outcomes in the cultural context (macrosystem) where the intervention is applied. The most likely reason why a causal process may fail to be appropriate in a cultural context is because the conceptualization of that causal process may be inadequate. The underlying conceptual model may have omitted some important variables; it may have made certain implicit or explicit assumptions that do not hold; or, it may have failed to consider the influences of the larger socio-cultural context because such influences are invariant within the original context. Omission of important variables in conceptual models may be because cross-cultural variation in these variables may be a lot stronger than intra-cultural variation. Hence, when empirical validation of conceptual models is repeated in the same socio-cultural context, this weakness of the conceptual model may never emerge. For example, the virtual absence of certain family types (e.g., the functionally extended family) in AngloAmerican culture may result in a lack of consideration of the potential influences of this family type on the parenting processes (Amorim and Rossetti-Ferreira 2004). Another example may be the virtual universality of parenting goals to raise autonomous-independent children in the individualistic cultures (as opposed to autonomous-interdependent or non-autonomous and interdependent children; Gonzales-Ramos et al. 1998; Keller et al. 2005; Mistry et al. 2003). Conceptual models may also omit important variables because certain variables may be highly associated with one another only in some cultural contexts. When one of these variables describing the microsystem is included in the conceptual model, the other may be statistically unnecessary if the two are highly associated. In a different cultural context, however, those characteristics of the microsystem may be weakly associated and may exert independent or interactive influences on the outcomes of interest. Thus, the omission of one variable may

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have of severe consequence for the validity of the conceptual model in the latter cultural context. The example discussed above, i.e., harsh parenting as a cause of externalizing behaviors, may exemplify all of these threats to the validity of a conceptual model. Specifically, the true cause of externalizing behaviors may be a third variable that co-occurs with harsh parenting in western European and American cultures but not in other cultural contexts, such as parental conflict or maternal anger. Alternatively, an implicit assumption may be made that harsh parenting co-exists with a lack of warm and supportive parenting, although this may not be the case in all cultural contexts (Duane and Grusec 2006; Rudy and Grusec 2006). Finally, the interpretation and the social context of harsh parenting may differ across cultures. While harsh parenting is interpreted as rejection in individualistic cultures, it may be interpreted as an expression of concern in collectivistic cultures (Hantal, unpublished MA thesis, Koc¸ University 2007). Stated differently, the implicit assumption that harsh parenting will be strongly associated with a perception of parental rejection may be unfounded. Furthermore, harsh parenting by the mother may be offset by warm and supportive relationships that a child may have with the extended family members in societies where adults who perform parenting roles are not limited to the mother and the father. In sum, for an intervention to be culturally appropriate, the causal process that it relies on must be valid in that socio-cultural context. This condition of cultural appropriateness pertains to that of the causality between the targets and the outcomes of an intervention, the potential mediators, and moderators of that causal process. The reason why this condition is more consequential than the previously discussed issues (i.e., the issue of cultural variability of the levels of targets and outcomes) is that, previous to an intervention there may be little indication of the invalidity of the assumed causal processes. There may well be a need for an intervention (e.g., there may be a high prevalence of externalizing problems) and there may well be a reason for anticipating that targeting certain behaviors will lead to better developmental outcomes (e.g., there may be a high prevalence of harsh parenting). However, there may be little reason to suspect that a positive change in the targets will not result in better developmental outcomes unless basic and applied developmental scientists are willing to question the validity of conceptual models that are established in American and western European societies. Unfortunately, an unwillingness to question these premises will result in a waste of limited resources in interventions that have poor prospects for effectiveness.

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Culture and the acceptability of the intervention process An intervention may have a valid foundation if it is built on a conceptual model that is culturally appropriate. Nevertheless, there remains an important issue to consider: the cultural acceptability of the intervention process. A developmental intervention aims for a change in the targets of intervention through a combination of education, training, and cooperative treatment. The methods that are used to induce a change in the target, the individuals who administer an intervention, and the logistics of the intervention delivery (i.e., the totality of the intervention process) must be culturally acceptable. Cultural relevance, cultural sensitivity, or cultural appropriateness of an intervention as referred to in the literature often implies this particular property exclusively (Botvin et al. 1995; Mistry et al. 2003). It is clear that the intervention process must be acceptable and appropriate in a cultural context in order to be effective. There is a variety of evidence from intervention research that many applied developmental scientists attempt to develop culturally appropriate interventions by modifying only the delivery process of an intervention. This limitation arises because often a standard, proven, and recommended intervention program is used but slightly adapted to the population of interest in order to make it acceptable. This approach severely limits the conceptualization of cultural appropriateness to one that refers exclusively to the cultural appropriateness of intervention delivery. Strategies that have been tried to render the intervention process acceptable to individuals from a variety of socio-cultural contexts include the modification of the style of delivery (without modifying the content; e.g., the examples that are used may be modified), and efforts to match the ethnicity of the intervention staff to that of the clients. These strategies have been broadly labeled as modifying the “surface structure” (Maldonado-Molina et al. 2006). Research provides equivocal evidence regarding the benefits of these modifications in terms of the effectiveness of interventions (Botvin et al. 1995; Hecht et al. 2003; Kulis et al. 2005; Marek et al. 2006). At best, these modifications resulted in modest gains in effectiveness. Other aspects of the intervention process besides the style of delivery of interventions may be considered in assessing and improving its acceptability. For example, individual versus group interventions, the composition of groups in group interventions, use of professional versus lay staff, frequency and timing of intervention sessions, and the location of the intervention program may all be factors that may influence the

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acceptability of an intervention. These aspects of delivery often are not considered in developing a culturally appropriate intervention because they are typically pre-specified as essential aspects of a standardized intervention. Modification of such attributes of an intervention may amount to a change in the essence of the intervention design. Nevertheless, these factors may influence the acceptability of interventions in different cultural contexts (Castro et al. 2004). The design of culturally appropriate interventions The above discussion provides a blueprint for a method for designing culturally appropriate interventions. The method that is proposed here will ensure the cultural appropriateness of four essential components of any intervention, ensuring that (1) the intervention targets are culturally appropriate; (2) a change in the intervention outcome is feasible and culturally desirable; (3) the conceptualization of the causal process of change is culturally appropriate; and (4) the intervention process is culturally acceptable. As discussed before, the first two conditions are more easily met than the latter two conditions. Cultural appropriateness of the chosen targets and outcomes of an intervention can be determined by studying those characteristics of families and children in the cultural context in which the intervention will be implemented. For example, in a cultural context where parental warmth is normatively high, interventions aiming to increase parental warmth may have limited effectiveness, although such interventions may have demonstrated effectiveness in a different context. In order to establish the desirability of a change in the outcomes of intervention, parenting goals and value systems in the specific cultural context must be studied. For example, in a collectivistic cultural context, fostering assertiveness and self-reliance in children and adolescents may not be desirable. A substantial hurdle in designing culturally appropriate interventions is the conceptualization of the causal process underlying the change in the intervention outcomes. This remains a hurdle because little prior research has focused on this issue, and because conducting such research is theoretically and practically difficult. The components of a microsystem may exert different influences on intervention outcomes depending on the cultural context, and different components may interact in different ways resulting in a complex array of potential cross-cultural variation. Strong theoretical work is necessary that conceptualizes the operation of causal processes underlying human development, and that considers

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the potential influences of specific aspects of cultural context within this framework. Such theoretical development will allow us to anticipate and test cross-cultural variability of causal processes. Substantial applied experience has accumulated with the modification of intervention processes in order to achieve culturally appropriate interventions. However, most of this experience is on delivery style rather than the totality of the delivery process (e.g., Rodney et al. 2005). The development of an intervention adopting culturally appropriate processes may require research comparing the effectiveness of interventions with alternative processes of delivery. Such research is rarely conducted and it is rarely driven by theories of learning or behavior change. The development of the alternative intervention processes must take into account theories of behavior change appropriate for a cultural context and must test the effectiveness of the culturally appropriate intervention process against that of a standard intervention process. Discussion Modifying interventions to render them culturally appropriate has been common practice. Indeed, Castro et al. (2004) showed that among fortyfour “evidence-based” preventive interventions promoted as model programs by the US Department of Health, most had undergone some modification when implemented in ethnic minority groups. Furthermore, such cultural adaptation is generally considered a desirable and beneficial activity (Kumpfer et al. 2002). Culture deeply penetrates human development and its multiple ecologies. In order to understand the ways in which culture may matter and how much culture matters in intervention design and implementation, we must make an attempt to conceptualize how it operates. The ecological systems theory of human development helps conceptualize the influences of cultural context. This effort will then lead to a systematic study of cultural appropriateness. Such a systematic study will allow us to move beyond general statements declaring that a certain intervention is or is not culturally appropriate, and may pave the way to the assessment of the degree to which an intervention is culturally appropriate and whether that translates into enhanced effectiveness. This chapter presents an attempt to clarify the conceptualization of the ways in which culture may be relevant in a developmental intervention. Cultural appropriateness is defined in terms of the appropriateness of four aspects of a developmental intervention: the targets of intervention, the outcomes of intervention, the link between the targets and outcomes, and the process of intervention. A culturally appropriate

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developmental intervention has targets that require change, aims for a desirable change in the developmental outcomes, relies on a scientifically valid link between its targets and outcomes, and adopts an intervention process that is acceptable, in a given cultural context. This conceptualization of cultural appropriateness serves to highlight the relatively minor role of changing the delivery style of an intervention (i.e., modifying the “surface structure”) in the pursuit of a culturally appropriate intervention. The minor role of the delivery style is corroborated by empirical studies comparing the effectiveness of an intervention with varying styles of delivery in non-majority ethnic or cultural groups. These studies typically find no substantial or statistically significant differences between standard and culturally appropriate delivery styles. The essence of cultural appropriateness involves the choice of targets, the choice of outcomes, and the cultural validity of the process that links targets to the outcomes. The conceptualization and definition of cultural appropriateness may lead to studies that develop measures of cultural appropriateness. Cultural appropriateness may need to be conceptualized as a matter of degree, rather than as a property that is either present or absent in an intervention. As implied by the definition of cultural appropriateness outlined here, an intervention may be “at risk” of cultural inappropriateness due to: (1) its choice of targets, (2) its choice of outcomes, (3) the assumption regarding the causal process linking the targets to outcomes, or (4) the actual process of intervention. A starting point for measuring the degree of cultural appropriateness may be to score the appropriateness of a list of attributes specified under each one of these four main aspects of cultural appropriateness. Measurement of cultural appropriateness is needed in order to further the debate on standardization versus cultural adaptation of developmental interventions. This debate can be conducted in the light of research evidence if the association of cultural appropriateness with the effectiveness of developmental interventions is known. Adaptation and modification of proven and established interventions are costly in terms of time and resources. Furthermore, these activities are risky because they may enhance or unpredictably threaten the effectiveness of proven interventions. These efforts can be justified if they translate to increased effectiveness. Thus, cultural adaptation or modification of interventions should be recommended only if there is scientific evidence that these efforts enhance their effectiveness. Applied developmental scientists should conduct research to accumulate such evidence, which must rely on measures of cultural appropriateness. The balance between the desired standardization of developmental interventions and the desire

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for cultural sensitivity can be scientifically addressed only if applied research considers the degree of cultural appropriateness as a relevant and measured attribute of interventions. The conceptualization of cultural appropriateness of developmental interventions outlined here emphasizes the importance of understanding the effects of cultural context on causal processes underlying human development. These effects of cultural context may be profound, hidden, and influential in terms of the effectiveness of interventions relying on the operation of those causal mechanisms. Despite their importance, cultural variability of causal processes is not well known or well researched. Such research may require a mix of qualitative and quantitative methods (Weisner 2005) and may be critical for applied developmental scientists seeking to optimize human development in a variety of cultural contexts. references K. S. Amorim and M. C. Rossetti-Ferreira, “Ethnotheories and childrearing practices: Some constraints on their investigation,” Culture & Psychology, 10 (2004), 337–51. E. Arbiter, R. Sato-Tanaka, I. Kolvin, and I. Leitch, “Differences in behaviour and temperament between Japanese and British toddlers living in London: A pilot study,” Child Psychology and Psychiatry Review, 4 (1999), 117–25. V. G. Aukrust, C. P. Edwards, A. Kumru, L. Knoche, and M. Kim, “Young children’s close relationships outside the family: Parental ethnotheories in four communities in Norway, the United States, Turkey, and Korea,” International Journal of Behavioral Development, 27 (2003), 481–94. J. Bennett and L. K. Grimley, “Parenting in the global community: A crosscultural/international perspective,” in M. J. Fine and S. W. Lee (eds.), Handbook of Diversity in Parent Education: The Changing Faces of Parenting and Parent Education (San Diego, CA: Academic Press, 2001), pp. 97–132. M. H. Bornstein, “Positive parenting and positive development in children,” in R. M. Lerner, F. Jacobs, and D. Wertlieb (eds.), Handbook of Applied Developmental Science. Volume 1 (Thousand Oaks, CA: Sage, 2003), pp. 187–210. G. J. Botvin, S. P. Schinke, J. A. Epstein, T. Diaz, and E. M. Botvin, “Effectiveness of culturally focused and generic skills training approaches to alcohol and drug abuse prevention among minority youths: Two year follow-up results,” Psychology of Addictive Behaviors, 9 (1995), 183–94. U. Bronfenbrenner, The Ecology of Human Development (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1979). A. G. Bus, P. P. M. Leseman, and P. Keultjes, “Joint book reading across cultures: A comparison of Surinamese-Dutch, Turkish-Dutch, and Dutch parent–child dyads,” Journal of Literacy Research, 32 (2000), 53–76. F. G. Castro, M. Barrera, and C. R. Martinez, “The cultural adaptation of prevention interventions: Resolving tensions between fidelity and fit,” Prevention Science, 5 (2004), 41–45.

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P. Chan, “Comparison of visual motor development in Hong Kong and the USA assessed on the Qualitative Scoring System for the Modified BenderGestalt Test,” Psychological Reports, 88 (2001), 236–40. P. Chavajay and B. Rogoff, “Cultural variation in management of attention by children and their caregivers,” Developmental Psychology, 35 (1999), 1079–90. X. Chen, K. H. Rubin, B. Li, and D. Li, “Adolescent outcomes of social functioning in Chinese children,” International Journal of Behavioral Development, 23 (1999), 199–223. C. De Von Figueroa-Moseley, C. T. Ramey, B. Keltner, and R. G. Lanzi, “Variations in Latino parenting practices and their effects on child cognitive developmental outcomes,” Hispanic Journal of Behavioral Sciences, 28 (2006), 102–14. K. Deater-Deckard and K. A. Dodge, “Externalizing behavior problems and discipline revisited: Nonlinear effects and variation by culture, context, and gender,” Psychological Inquiry, 8 (1997), 161–75. A. Demetriou, A. Pachaury, Y. Metallidou, and S. Kazi, “Universals and specificities in the structure and development of quantitative-relational thought: A cross-cultural study in Greece and India,” International Journal of Behavioral Development, 19 (1996), 255–90. R. Duane and J. E. Grusec, “Authoritarian parenting in individualist and collectivist groups: Associations with maternal emotion and cognition and children’s self-esteem,” Journal of Family Psychology, 20 (2006), 68–78. J. H. Flavell, “Theory-of-mind development: Retrospect and prospect,” MerrillPalmer Quarterly, 50 (2004), 274–90. D. C. French, S. Pidada, J. Denoma, K. McDonald and A. Lawton, “Reported peer conflicts of children in the United States and Indonesia,” Social Development, 14 (2005), 458–72. W. Friedlmeier and G. Trommsdorff, “Emotion regulation in early childhood: A cross-cultural comparison between German and Japanese toddlers,” Journal of Cross-Cultural Psychology, 30 (1999), 684–711. E. Frydenberg, R. Lewis, G. Kennedy, R. Ardila, W. Frindte, and R. Hannoun, “Coping with concerns: An exploratory comparison of Australian, Colombian, German, and Palestinian adolescents,” Journal of Youth and Adolescence, 32 (2003), 59–66. D. C. Geary, C. C. Bow-Thomas, F. Liu, and R. S. Siegler, “Development of arithmetical competencies in Chinese and American children: Influence of age, language, and schooling,” Child Development, 67 (1996), 2022–44. G. Gonzales-Ramos, L. H. Zayas, and E. V. Cohen, “Child-rearing values of low-income, urban Puerto Rican mothers of preschool children,” Professional Psychology: Research and Practice, 29 (1998), 377–82. M. Grader, “Expressive timing and interactional synchrony between mothers and infants: Cultural similarities, cultural differences, and the immigration experience,” Cognitive Development, 18 (2003), 533–54. R. L. Harwood, A. Schoelmerich, P. A. Schulze, and Z. Gonzalez, “Cultural differences in maternal beliefs and behaviors: A study of middle-class Anglo and Puerto Rican mother–infant pairs in four everyday situations,” Child Development, 70 (1999), 1005–16.

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M. L. Hecht, F. F. Marsiglia, E. Elek, D. A. Wagstaff, S. Kulis, P. Dustman, and M. Miller-Day, “Culturally grounded substance use prevention: An evaluation of the keepin’ it R.E.A.L curriculum,” Prevention Science, 4 (2003), 233–48. L. Herz and E. Gullone, “The relationship between self-esteem and parenting style: A cross-cultural comparison of Australian and Vietnamese Australian adolescents,” Journal of Cross-Cultural Psychology, 30 (1999), 742–61. S. Holloway, B. Fuller, M. Rambaud, and C. Eggers-Pierola, Through My Own Eyes: Single Mothers and the Cultures of Poverty (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1997). R. P. Jolley, Z. Zhi, and G. V. Thomas, “The development of understanding moods metaphorically expressed in pictures: A cross-cultural comparison,” Journal of Cross-Cultural Psychology, 29 (1998), 358–76. M. S. Joshi and M. MacLean, “Maternal expectations of child development in India, Japan, and England,” Journal of Cross-Cultural Psychology, 28 (1997), 219–34. C. ¸ Ka
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J. E. Lansford, K. Deater-Deckard, K. A. Dodge, J. E. Bates, and G. S. Pettit, “Ethnic differences in the link between physical discipline and later adolescent externalizing behaviors,” Journal of Child Psychology and Psychiatry, 45 (2004), 801–12. T. N. Le, G. Monfared, and G. D. Stockdale, “The relationship of school, parent, and peer contextual factors with self-reported delinquency for Chinese, Cambodian, Laotian or Mien, and Vietnamese youth,” Crime & Delinquency, 51 (2005), 192–219. X. Liang, B. Fuller, and J. D. Singer, “Ethnic differences in child care selection: The influence of family structure, parental practices, and home language,” Early Childhood Research Quarterly, 15 (2000), 357–84. S. Lim and B. K. Lim, “Parenting style and child outcomes in Chinese and immigrant Chinese families: Current findings and cross-cultural considerations in conceptualization and research,” Marriage and Family Review, 35 (2004), 21–43. M. M. Maldonado-Molina, N. A. Reyes, and G. Espinosa-Hernandez, “Prevention research and Latino families: Resources for researchers and practitioners,” Family Relations, 55 (2006), 403–14. L. I. Marek, D. P. Brock, and R. Sullivan, “Cultural adaptations to a family life skills program: Implementation in rural Appalachia,” Journal of Primary Prevention, 27 (2006), 113–33. A. E. Maynard and P. M. Greenfield, “Implicit cognitive development in cultural tools and children: Lessons from Maya Mexico,” Cognitive Development, 18 (2003), 489–510. C. A. McCarty, J. R. Weisz, K. Wanitromanee, K. L. Eastman, S. Suwanlert, W. Chaiyasit, and E. B. Band, “Culture, coping, and context: Primary and secondary control among Thai and American youth,” Journal of Child Psychology and Psychiatry, 40 (1999), 809–18. A. M. Miller and R. L. Harwood, “The cultural organization of parenting: Change and stability of behavior patterns during feeding and social play across the first year of life,” Parenting: Science and Practice, 2 (2002), 241–72. J. Mistry, J. A. Chaudhuri, and V. Diez, “Ethnotheories of parenting: At the interface between culture and child development,” in R. M. Lerner, F. Jacobs, and D. Wertlieb (eds.), Handbook of Applied Developmental Science. Volume 1 (Thousand Oaks, CA: Sage, 2003), pp. 233–58. C. E. Mosier and B. Rogoff, “Privileged treatment of toddlers: Cultural aspects of individual choice and responsibility,” Developmental Psychology, 39 (2003), 1047–60. T. Murase, P. S. Dale, T. Ogura, Y. Yamashita, and A. Mahieu, “Mother–child conversation during joint picture book reading in Japan and the USA,” First Language, 25 (2005), 197–218. R. D. Parke and R. Buriel, “Socialization in the family: Ethnic and ecological perspectives,” in N. Eisenberg, W. Damon, and H. Lerner (eds.), Handbook of Child Psychology. Volume 3. Social, Emotional, and Personality Development, Sixth edition (Hoboken, NJ, Wiley, 2006), pp. 429–504). C. Pilgrim and A. Rueda-Riedle, “The importance of social context in crosscultural comparisons: First graders in Colombia and the United States,” Journal of Genetic Psychology, 163 (2002), 283–95.

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P. R. Portes, T. E. Cuentas, and M. Zady, “Cognitive socialization across ethnocultural contexts: Literacy and cultural differences in intellectual performance and parent–child interaction,” Journal of Genetic Psychology, 161 (2000), 79–98. H. Pullmann, J. Allik, and R. Lynn, “The growth of IQ among Estonian schoolchildren from ages 7 to 19,” Journal of Biosocial Science, 36 (2004), 735–40. N. Rao and S. M. Stewart, “Cultural influences on sharer and recipient behavior: Sharing in Chinese and Indian preschool children,” Journal of Cross-Cultural Psychology, 30 (1999), 219–41. L. W. Rodney, D. L. Johnson, and R. P. Srivastava, “The impact of culturally relevant violence prevention models on school-age youth,” Journal of Primary Prevention, 26 (2005), 439–54. D. Rudy and J. E. Grusec, “Authoritarian parenting in individualist and collectivist groups: Associations with maternal emotion and cognition and children’s self-esteem,” Journal of Family Psychology, 20 (2006), 68–78. S. M. Stewart, M. H. Bond, W. Chan, R. M. Zaman, R. Dar, and M. Anwar, “Autonomy from parents and psychological adjustment in an interdependent culture,” Psychology and Developing Societies, 15 (2003), 31–49. T. Tulviste, “Sociocultural variation in mothers’ control over children’s behavior,” Ethos, 32 (2004), 34–50. I. A. Valdivia, B. H. Schneider, K. L. Chavez, and X. Chen, “Social withdrawal and maladjustment in a very group-oriented society,” International Journal of Behavioral Development, 29 (2005), 219–28. R. E. Varela, E. M. Vernberg, J. J. S~anchez-Sosa, A. Riveros, M. Mitchell, and J. Mashunkashey, “Parenting style of Mexican, Mexican American, and Caucasian-non-Hispanic families: Social context and cultural influences,” Journal of Family Psychology, 18 (2004), 651–57. P. G. Vinden, “Children’s understanding of mind and emotion: A multi-culture study,” Cognition & Emotion, 13 (1999), 19–48. Q. Wang, “The emergence of cultural self-constructs: Autobiographical memory and self-description in European American and Chinese children,” Developmental Psychology, 40 (2004), 3–15. Q. Wang and M. D. Leichtman, “Same beginnings, different stories: A comparison of American and Chinese children’s narratives,” Child Development, 71 (2000), 1329–46. Q. Wang, M. D. Leichtman, and K. I. Davies, “Sharing memories and telling stories: American and Chinese mothers and their 3-year-olds,” Memory, 8 (2000), 159–78. T. S. Weisner, “Introduction,’ in T. S. Weisner (ed.), Discovering Successful Pathways in Children’s Development: Mixed Methods in the Study of Childhood and Family Life (Chicago, IL: University of Chicago Press, 2005), pp. 1–20.

20

Designing, implementing, sustaining, and evaluating idiocultures for learning and development: The case study of the Fifth Dimension Michael Cole

Of the multitude of contributions that Ci
¸ gdem Ka
gıt¸cıba¸sı has made to our understanding of culture and human psychological development, I focus here on her achievements in the creation of developmentpromoting early childhood education. The work that I present does not approach in scale that which Professor Ka
gıtc¸ ıba¸sı has accomplished in her native land of Turkey. However, I hope that the model underlying the project I describe will provide ways to think about two important issues facing developmentalists today. First, how to design developmentenhancing environments for culturally diverse populations of children living in a wide variety of socio-ecological conditions. Second, how to create modes of higher education that will produce young practitioners who are capable of implementing and developing such environments.

Designing education after school The first peculiarity of the approach adopted in the project described here is that it is designed to take place in the after-school hours. Consequently, it presupposes the existence of a society where schooling is pervasive, if not universal, and cultural circumstances where children’s after-school hours are not highly institutionalized; rather, they are characterized by a great variety of arrangements, including participation in unsupervised play, attendance at various kinds of youth clubs, formal or informal sports activities, and various cultural enrichment activities such as music, dance, art, and the like. It also presupposes that the society in question has a variety of institutions of post-secondary education, designed to train experts in a variety of knowledge required for participation in advanced industrialized societies with their expectations of high levels of literacy and numeracy, and specialized technical knowledge. Such social conditions ordinarily co-occur and, to one degree or another, currently exist in many 331

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countries in the world, including Turkey, the primary site of Professor Ka
gıt¸cıba¸sı’s own work. After-school education in the United States: a brief history The idea that providing supplementary forms of after-school care for children, including care that contains an explicit educational component, has a long history in the United States (Halpern 2003). Dating from the late nineteenth century, American educators have drawn upon a wide variety of social concerns and ideological commitments to justify their advocacy of the after-school involvement of adults and children in organized settings. Chief among the issues that motivated early proponents of after-school education were restrictions on child labor, attempts to keep children in school for more years, and the social disruption caused by children because they either did not attend compulsory schools or were unsupervised during the hours between school dismissal and the return of their parents from work, putting them, presumably, at risk in a variety of ways until their parents returned home from work. This same concern for social order and children’s safety remains one of the major motivations behind such efforts (Newman et al. 2000). This document and similar reports highlight evidence that children are most likely to be the victims or perpetrators of crime between 3:00 and 4:00 in the afternoon and that children attending after-school programs are more likely to do well in school (Lauer et al. 2004). More recently, the possibility that after-school programs may foster achievement has been added to the list of reasons put forward for the formation and support of such institutions (Belle 1999; Eccles and Gootman 2002). As a consequence of these concerns, a multitude of programs, financed not only by federal, state, and local governments but also by several large philanthropic foundations, have been put in place. In addition, prestigious institutions of higher learning have set up programs devoted to the promotion of widely available and high-quality afterschool educational programs. These programs have built upon such long-standing institutions as the Boys and Girls Club of America, or the Scouts (versions of which are to be found in many industrialized countries throughout the world). Despite this increased interest in the creation of more settings that would enrich the lives of children in the hours between the end of school and the beginning of evening life in the home, these efforts have faced a number of recurring problems. These include insufficient funding,

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quality control, and sustainability. In some cases parents or religious organizations have been able to mount programs that achieve the goals of providing a safe place for children and education, to the extent possible with staff who are not themselves well trained in child development. But a large number of such programs are judged to be of low quality (Eccles and Gootman 2002). Where they are government financed, bureaucratic requirements and rigidity are likely to set in, and funding may be cut back when other national priorities intrude. A second motivation for the present model: problems in higher education During the same decades when interest in organized after-school activities for children was growing in the US, the percentage of young people graduating high school and matriculating into various postsecondary colleges and universities was also increasing. Whereas, fifty years ago, most youth did not graduate from high school, today most youth not only complete high school, but go on to experience some level of “higher” education. This average increase in educational levels was driven by a variety of factors and had a variety of consequences, not all of which could be considered an unalloyed good for society. On the one hand, the levels of numeracy and literacy deemed necessary for success in the world of work increased. Modern industrialism built upon the model of Fordism was giving way to the “information” society, and failure to obtain a college degree came to mean a life of diminished earnings and the social consequences that accompany lower income (Carnoy 2002). On the other hand, the provision of post-secondary education to a far larger part of the population has meant not only a swelling of enrollments, but also a swelling of enrollments that has not kept pace with a corresponding increase in teaching faculty. As a consequence, many students, even at relatively high status universities, and especially in popular majors such as psychology, go through their entire college education taking primarily large courses, numbering into the hundreds, reading textbooks, and being evaluated by multiple choice questions. In addition (and most important to my present concerns), they have little or no opportunity to discover how the phenomena they read about actually manifest themselves in live circumstances. If there are provisions for laboratory courses, they are most often restricted to experiments with rats or pigeons, or, perhaps, to canned experiments involving computer-generated displays. This form of education produces an odd, alienated form of academic learning. I have, for example, taught classes with students who have just

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taken an introductory course in human development using a textbook of which I am a co-author (Cole et al. 2004). On the first day of class, I tell them that in the present course they will be playing with children who range in age from about four to fourteen and inquire about what they know concerning age-related differences in the kinds of play that children in the US typically engage in. The initial result is blank stares. I then ask if they have taken the introductory course in child development. Yes. Do they recall, from their reading, anything about age-related change in children’s play? With these prompts, a few students raise their hands and provide some relevant information. On the basis of this information I continue to ask questions, ask about their own experiences as children or as babysitters. At the end of half an hour or so, most in the class can remember that, yes, indeed, their textbook had contained material about differences in children’s play, and some could relate this to some aspect of their personal experience. But many could not. Yet judging from their grades, they were excellent students. This is the second area of human development that motivates the current mode of designing after-school activities, the alienated education of college students in psychology and the social sciences (at least!).1 The roots of a design: solving two problems by combining them in one location The preceding pages describe two problems, each of which appears to promise no rapid solution: lack of resources in many communities to provide supplementary educational experiences to school-age children, and lack of resources in many universities and colleges to provide students with an education that will afford them the possibility of small, problem-oriented courses in their major subject that will enable them to grasp the relationship between the theory-driven materials they are exposed to in classes and the practical life to which those theories are directed. The macro-architecture of the designed solution studied in this project is to combine the two problems: community institutions with an interest in the welfare of children afterschool, team up with professors and students at the university, providing the university participants with a living laboratory in which to study the theories they focus on at school, while providing the community institutions with well-educated and 1

I am not alone in my concern about this situation. There is at present rapid growth in the provision of “service learning” courses, some of which explicitly have as their goal the provision of opportunities for college students to integrate what they are learning in their courses with organized experiences in their communities (Butin 2005).

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highly motivated, but na€ıve, students to enrich their after-school programming. But how is this combination to be achieved? There are two routes, only one of which is explored here. The organization of the activities in the community takes as its initial model a theoretically motivated, and empirically tested, ensemble of activities as a starting point. Using this ensemble as a starting point, the university and community participants begin a process of adaptation in which, over time (if they are successful!) they arrive at an equilibrium: an after-school program that satisfies the individual goals of both institutions and their common, overarching goal – to maximize the developmental impact of the activities in the young people involved. The overall architecture of the university–community interaction is termed a “U–C Link.” The architecture of the activities at the community site is termed a “Fifth Dimension.” I will describe the structure of each in turn. A U–C Link As noted above, the key ingredients for a university–community partnership to offer regular after-school activities to school-age children is an agreement to conduct such activities in such a manner that both sides of the agreement are making substantial contributions to the other. In fact, in almost all known cases of such arrangements, neither side can obtain its objectives unless it cooperates with the other side. Community organizations have resources that are extremely expensive, if not impossible, for the university to provide its students: a ready population of schoolage children who participate voluntarily, space, a budget that allows whatever level of programming it habitually can give such that the basic infrastructure of the activity is in place. In this sense, the community is providing gratis a laboratory to the university, which would have to spend untold thousands of dollars to run on its own, given the needs to provide space, facilities, transportation, legal agreements with parents, etc. For its part, the community organizations which form such partnerships are habitually short of funds, even when “well-funded.” By this I mean that they operate on local funds or temporary government grants that are sufficient to pay the salaries of the director and perhaps one permanent staff member. But other staff members are generally young, work for minimum wages, do not work enough hours to be eligible for health care, and hence are transient. Adult–child ratios are high, often on the order of 1:15. Under these conditions, it is unreasonable to expect quality programming with a serious educational component and, if the existing data are accurate, are not generally provided.

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By combining resources, both institutions can leverage the resources they are lacking, although each must pay its share. The university must offer a course for the entire academic year in a manner that attracts sufficient students to implement the on-site Fifth Dimension model. The community must allow intruders on its territory, however well intentioned, and the two participating institutions must work out an understanding about the content and conduct of the activities that is consistent with the norms of both. This understanding may sound easy, given how much each has to gain. But it is not automatic. In addition, the two institutions work on different schedules, so some time (which de facto means some money in the form of a person to worry about coordination) must be devoted to the collaboration itself. A Fifth Dimension: basic principles As described in previous publications (e.g., Cole and the Distributed Literacy Consortium 2006), the activity at community sites of various kinds that I have focused on are based on principles of learning and development first proposed by L. S. Vygotsky and his students, complemented by ideas proposed by a variety of non-Russian scholars concerned with the socio-cultural contexts that undergird human development (Cole 1996; Lave 1989; Rogoff 2003; Wertsch 1991). As an ensemble, these common roots lead us to think simultaneously about the social organization of activity, the various tools used to carry out the various tasks required to engage successfully in the activity, the social roles and modes of participation of those who engage in the activity, and the relation of the activity to its socio-ecological context. These common theoretical roots also influence our strategies for evaluating the effectiveness of the systems we design and implement. The following design principles can serve as a minimal set to motivate the design of specific after-school activity systems discussed later in the chapter. The centrality of context As many scholars sympathetic to a socio-cultural perspective have noted, notions such as context, activity, setting, and situation are used in a variety of ways by contemporary social scientists (Chaiklin and Lave 1993; Duranti and Goodwin 1992). We have found it useful to adopt two somewhat different notions of context in addressing different parts of the design and implementation process. The first might be termed a “social-ecological” concept of context, ordinarily represented as a set of concentric circles in which the focal activities are at or near the center; context is constituted by and constitutes the levels ranging outward from the center (Bronfenbrenner 2005).

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The image of concentric circles is helpful in capturing the embeddedness of the actual after-school program, as in a larger social ecology that will influence its specific character and the conditions it must meet to be sustainable. The innermost circle contains the interactions of children and undergraduates as they engage in joint activities at a specific time, in a specific place, and as part of an inclusive setting – the activity we call the Fifth Dimension. At the next “level of context,” we focus on the Fifth Dimension as one element within a larger institution – for example, a youth club, a church, or a school. At the next level, we consider the program and its institutional context as part of a neighborhood ecology, for example the community served by the school district from which the children attending the after-school program come. State-wide and national policies concerning provision of funds for after-school programs, and the overall willingness to provide funds for the promotion of children’s development, provide a yet-broader, but often decisive, influence on the local activity. Depending on which issue we are addressing, different levels of the system become the focus of our attention, but we need to remain aware of all the other levels as much as possible. An essential contextual fact about Fifth Dimension programs is that they generally run after school. For over 100 years in the US, the afterschool hours have been treated as discretionary time in which play or cultural enrichment have often been favored forms of children’s activities, depending upon their families’ resources (Halpern 2002; Larson and Verma 1999). And, of course, for some children after school is a time to attend one of a variety of loosely structured after-school care programs designed to keep children safe, active, and engaged in satisfying activities until their parents have time for them (Belle 1999). The location of a Fifth Dimension in the context between home and school, points immediately to an important design requirement. The program must provide a variety of sources of motivation for children’s participation or they will not come. The opportunity to play is, of course, one such motivation, but affiliation, peer interaction, and learning are also obvious candidates (Griffin and Cole 1984; Leontiev 1978). Promoting play was a particularly prominent objective in Fifth Dimension design, both for the practical reason that it would attract school-age children after school and for the theoretical reason that play promotes and creates essential resources for development (Vygotsky 1978). Computer games and other playful Fifth Dimension artifacts were included in the design in part for both of these reasons. The particular way in which play is incorporated into a given Fifth Dimension requires that we pay attention to a different level of context – the relationship of the Fifth Dimension to its local institutional home.

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For example, play needs to be incorporated into an after-school program at a youth center in a way somewhat different from its use in a program offered through a library, a school, or for-profit tutoring company. A Fifth Dimension in a library, for example, is conducted both more quietly than a Fifth Dimension in a Boys and Girls club and more noisily than other activities happening elsewhere in the library at the same time (Nicolopoulou and Cole 1993). A second conception of context that has proven valuable in designing and implementing Fifth Dimensions is the idea of context as the weaving together of many elements over time. Context conceived of in this way helps to capture the dynamics of interaction that change from day to day in what would otherwise be considered “the same context” when viewed in terms of the concentric circles representation. On a day-to-day basis, it makes a difference which children and undergraduates, and how many of them, are present and in what order they appear at the activity, because the particular pairings of children and undergraduates are shaped by the relationships they have built over time, and by the needs of particular children at any given moment. Those social arrangements, in turn, must be woven together with the availability of particular games and with the condition and occupancy rate of the equipment needed to run them or demands that homework be done in preparation for a test the next day. The “weaving together” notion of context keeps the designer of a Fifth Dimension program alive to the constant and daily need to deal with the heterogeneous and changing mix of factors influencing the implementation of a Fifth Dimension and the need to plan for contest and confrontation as well as playfulness and affection. Despite its manifest usefulness, there are limits to how far the concept of context can take us in designing Fifth Dimensions. The metaphors of circles and levels and threads are helpful in the abstract, but we also need a more concrete set of concepts to guide the design of precisely how, for example, play and learning are combined as a routine part of an activity. There is nothing automatic about mixing play, educational games, and college-age companions in a manner that not only is appropriate to the institutional context but also optimizes learning and development. Providing a wide range of motivations To address the issue of how to design play and learning activities for children who vary widely in age and other demographic characteristics, my colleagues and I have drawn on the concept of “leading activity,” as developed by Lev Vygotsky and his students (for an extended summary and examples, see Griffin and Cole 1984). In the Russian cultural-historical tradition, stages of

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development are interpreted in terms of the kinds of activity that dominate the lives of children at a given age, each characterized by a distinctive source of motivation (Elkonin 1977). In infancy, attachment to others is the leading activity. Play is the leading activity of early childhood, learning of middle childhood, peer interaction of the transition to adolescence, and work of the transition to adulthood (ibid.). Crucial to this way of thinking is the belief that prior leading activities and associated motives do not simply disappear. Rather, prior leading activities become part of the foundation of everyday activities upon which the new form of activity is built. The design implication of this insight is the need to create programs that provide access to all of the leading activities of childhood, forming a rich collection of motives from which children and their college student partners could choose, according to their personal preferences. For example, undergraduates were not assigned to work with particular children; they typically worked with a variety of children during their participation in the Fifth Dimension. But undergraduates routinely formed close attachments with particular children; such pairs sought each other out, expressed their pleasure at being together and their sadness at parting. It is also important to keep in mind that any given Fifth Dimension session presented a range of critical factors that were routinely in flux: a high level of participant heterogeneity; the working condition of computer software and hardware; the uncanny ability of board game pieces to disappear; the ages, ability levels, and experiences of the children present; and the ratio of undergraduates to children. Such variation was the norm, not the exception. If we were to come up with the right conditions for maximizing learning and development, we needed to combine insights into leading activities with the actual social organization of participants’ interactions. Here another theoretical principle became essential. The role of intergenerational participation We have already mentioned that the participation of undergraduates was a critical resource for staffing Fifth Dimensions at minimal cost to the community host institution as well as a source of motivation for the children. Here, too, theory guided us in organizing the roles of undergraduates to regulate the quality of their interactions with children. To optimize learning and development in these interactions, we found concepts such as Vygotsky’s “zone of proximal development,” Rogoff ’s “guided participation,” and Lave and Wenger’s “legitimate peripheral participation” to be critical resources.

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Presupposed in all of these formulations is the idea that certain kinds of social arrangements create optimal conditions for development. Vygotsky (1978) emphasized that individual psychological functions have their origins in socially shared, culturally mediated activities between children and more experienced bearer’s of their society’s cultural toolkit. The implications of this idea for the design of after-school activities are clear. There must be a functioning social level that includes both novices and more experienced members and a social setting that provides everyone with goals relevant to their joint participation or novices will have no opportunity to emulate and appropriate more mature, social-level functions. Since the more adept participants are pursuing goals that overlap substantially with those of less adept participants (for example, trying to catch the thief in the computer game, “Carmen San Diego”), inclusion of the novices provides them with the opportunity both to learn from and to contribute to (or at least not detract from) the goal-directed actions of the more adept. For Vygotsky, the arrangement of the social interactions involving more and less capable participants was of paramount importance as a means both of assessing the gap between what participants could accomplish on their own and what they could accomplish jointly with more experienced partners and as a way of organizing to take advantage of this gap. It is in this context that he formulated the notion of a “zone of proximal development” (zoped) as “the distance between the actual developmental level as determined by independent problem solving and the level of potential development as determined through problem solving under adult guidance or in collaboration with more capable peers” (ibid.: 86). This idea has several important implications for the design of Fifth Dimensions. First, expertise should be made available from many sources throughout the entire system of activity, including other children and the undergraduates, as well as the site staff. In this respect the undergraduates play a complex role. On the one hand, the idea of them as “more capable peers” is useful because it explicitly blocks the notion that they should adopt the role of teacher. On the other hand, their greater capability with respect to various aspects of the task at hand obliges them to capitalize on their knowledge on behalf of the children. In addition, the undergraduates are instructed not to adopt the role of authority figure with respect to the children’s social behavior. If conflicts arise, the undergraduate is expected to defer to the site coordinator and to intervene directly only when safety is at stake. Other design features of the Fifth Dimension help to maintain undergraduates’ intermediate role as peers. For one thing, at the beginning of

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any given academic semester or quarter, the undergraduates are in fact less capable than children who are longtime participants in playing the games and know how to “play the Fifth Dimension.” Undergraduates often attest to their chagrin at their own ignorance and their desire to become more adept as quickly as possible. In addition, we provide undergraduates with a rule of thumb for the perennial question of how much help they should give the children: “Give as little help as you can, but enough so that both you and the child are having a good time.” This heuristic has proven useful in helping undergraduates create zones of proximal development. As a consequence of such measures, data indicate that daily Fifth Dimension interactions are affectively positive and that zopeds are routinely created, even as the participant playing the role of more capable peer in dyads, triads, or larger groups is constantly changing. This characterization fits with Rogoff’s idea of fluid reversals of student and teacher roles in communities of learners; such reversals seem to arise naturally in the sort of inter-institutional arrangements that make Fifth Dimensions possible in the first place. The centrality of mediational means for organizing activity While it is critical to understand the overall context and the social relations organized to maximize learning and development in the design of Fifth Dimensions, the needed organizational properties could not be attained if we did not have a systematic way to introduce deliberately constructed mediational means (tools or artifacts) that participants use to regulate their interactions as they pursue their personal goals. Several of the more widely used mediational means are described below. Computers. For a variety of reasons, the most ubiquitous mediational means adopted in design of Fifth Dimensions have been computers and computer networks. Fifth Dimensions can, and have, been successfully conducted with no computers whatsoever, but the general social belief in their importance for children’s educational and vocational success and their affordances as interactive problem-solving and communications media, make them attractive where circumstances permit. Task cards. The tool we created to regulate the relation between play and education in computer games, as well as the difficulty of engaging the software, was the task card. In principle, every time a child played a Fifth Dimension game, engagement was mediated by a task card that specified what had to be accomplished to get credit for “beginner,” “good,” or “excellent” performance of the activity in the Fifth Dimension. Gaining credit for a pre-specified number of “goods” and “excellents” was the criterion for promotion to a new role of assistant to a “Wizard”

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(a mythical figurehead invoked at each site, although the particular name of the figurehead varied from site to site). In addition to shifting control of assessing high-level performance away from the software designer and toward Fifth Dimension designers, the task cards accomplished several other goals. They provided information to undergraduates to assist them in helping the child even if they had not encountered the particular game before, and to specify a proximal goal for the child. They connected simultaneously to play and learning and generated possible divisions of labor. If the game was designed purely for entertainment (“Brick Out,” for example), the task card included more educational elements – such as formulating a strategy in writing or teaching a strategy to another person. If the game was designed purely for education, the task card introduced a more playful element, such as earning the right to play a game of the children’s choice if they achieved the level of “good.” Finally, they helped achieve the major goal of getting the children to read, write, and reflect. The maze. Another mediational tool is a maze, a symbolic space embodied as a wall chart or physical labyrinth containing all the games and other tasks that are an official part of the Fifth Dimension. The presence of a maze with multiple rooms provides a tool for distributing the activities in a flexible manner so that even if a computer breaks down or a desired game is occupied, the undergraduates and staff engaged with the children can find ready substitutes. The mythical figurehead. Earlier we referred to a mythical figurehead that goes by various names in various instantiations of the Fifth Dimension. The mythical figurehead fulfills several functions. The figurehead ensures an element of play as children engage in what otherwise might appear to be strictly a learning task, such as reading instructions for an educational game. By subordinating themselves to the figurehead, the adults can collude with the children in the pretense of the figurehead’s existence and thereby play with them. The figurehead also reorders power relations between adults and children. When conflicts arise, adults need not confront children directly, since it is the figurehead, not the participants, who is said to have the power to adjudicate disputes. In such cases, adults as well as children must write to the figurehead, who makes proposals for how matters will proceed. Finally, the figurehead, because it communicates only in writing, provides many different occasions for children to engage in reading, writing, word play, and communication skills more generally. Other mediational means. In addition to these more or less universal mediational means, each site invents tools of its own. One site uses a “hints book” in which children and undergraduates describe helpful

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strategies for dealing with different games. Another site creates merit badges, and another has bilingual task cards that help children who cannot read well but speak English and undergraduates who read just fine but do not understand Spanish to negotiate meaningful goals and strategies as they work and play together. The centrality of communicative practices Implicit in much of the foregoing is the belief that the development of communication skills in many media is of positive intellectual benefit to children. There are many theoretical justifications for emphasizing communication skills. For example, Vygotsky is perhaps best known for placing communication – the mediation of activity through language and other “psychological tools” – at the center of his theory of language, thought, and development. In arguing that “the thought is completed in the word,” he focused attention on the intellectual importance of communication and the necessity of active, goal-oriented behavior in learners. Such communicative demands also embody Jean Piaget’s (1970) notion of reflective abstraction and Annette Karmiloff-Smith’s (1992) idea of the importance of re-description in cognitive development. Therefore, in designing Fifth Dimension activities, we paid close attention to arranging interactions in which adult and child participants had to pause to comment on their problem-solving efforts in oral or written reflections in addition to engaging in an ongoing dialogue as they worked together on the problem. The importance of goal formation From prior work conducted in classrooms (Newman et al. 1989), as well as from literature on the formation of school settings (Sarason 1997), my colleagues and I emphasize the importance of ensuring that participants are engaged in such a way that they have many opportunities to form goals for their own actions. This principle affected both the design of activities within our various community settings and inter-institutional collaboration. We emphasized individual children’s ability to form their own goals in part because research has demonstrated that when children’s learning is tightly controlled by pre-specified goals and procedures, the resulting learning does not transfer widely to other problems to which it might be relevant (Newman et al. 1989). We maximized goal formation in the Fifth Dimension by arranging for children to choose the games they wanted to play and the level of expertise they wished to achieve. Sometimes goals were fixed within the games themselves so as to ensure that the children had such options. When needed, we added goals that were achievable by using a task card to reach a higher level of expertise. We also added the ready-made goal of achieving the status of “Wizard’s

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assistant,” which carried rewards such as the right to choose a new game for inclusion in the Fifth Dimension maze. However, there was no fixed order for achieving such goals, and children were given other choices as well, such as choice of games, choice of partners, specific goals (often not those intended by the designers, such as seeing how many ways one could destroy a city in “Sim City”), and, of course, the choice not to participate. At the level of institutional cooperation, goal formation was also emphasized. At the highest level this was easy: all of the participating institutions were focused on after-school activities and saw the object of the project as providing enriched educational experiences for children. But when it came to deciding on the subgoals necessary to implement the project, joint goal formation was often difficult to achieve, although everyone recognized it as a primary condition for the continued existence of the program. But even when there were common goals and goodwill, significant problems could arise owing to pressing local institutional needs, turnover in personnel (which often meant loss of memory of the goal formation process), and differing time schedules for vital functions. In some cases, these problems led to the demise of a Fifth Dimension system. The cultural “atmosphere” of a Fifth Dimension: a brief example A remarkable feature of Fifth Dimensions is that, within a few weeks of their initiation, they form a unique “idioculture” with its own instantiations of the various principles, depending upon the nature of the host institution, its neighborhood, the cultural and social class features, and ages of the participants, and a number of other factors (see Cole and the Distributed Literacy Consortium 2006 for a fuller account of this variability). However, a feel for the kind of atmosphere and the quality of interactions routinely created in Fifth Dimensions can be provided from one such activity system that I participated in over the course of about fifteen years. To begin with, when a new group of undergraduates enters the Fifth Dimension, they routinely provide evidence that they are entering an ongoing cultural system characterized by shared understandings that are mysterious to them. Because they are not casual observers, but novice participants, the recognition that they have to learn the culture of the Fifth Dimension generally evokes anxiety and an expressed desire to figure out what it takes to become a member. For example: “As I looked into that room through the windows I had many questions running

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through my head. How does this program work? What am I supposed to do here? How can I possibly be a leader here when I don’t know the first thing about computer games?” and It was really odd having a young adolescent guiding us through the game. I sort of felt helpless in a way, considering that knowledge is power in this society. Here we were, elders who would soon take on the challenge of helping children develop their minds and to help them get through the Fifth Dimension and we couldn’t even finish the first round! Boy was I humiliated in a fun way!

As the weeks pass, these kinds of tentative, anxiety-laden descriptions are replaced by expressions of pleasure in working with the children, forming friendships, and regretting the coming of the end of the academic year. The quality of the interactions that develop around particular games is illustrated by an excerpt from the following fieldnote, in which an undergraduate plays a game with two children that is intended to teach principles of phonics in a game-like manner. The game in question is called Word Munchers. Word Munchers challenges the players to identify a particular sound within given words, displayed on a 5 · 6 matrix. The player must manipulate the keyboard effectively in order to move their character up, down, left, and right in order to escape a bad guy (referred to as a troggle) that appears intermittently. It is not an easy game for beginners to win, not even UCSD undergraduates. The notes were written by Teri Moore, playing with eight-year-old Aaron Seals: Aaron got Word Munchers with no problem and started to play at the first level. Word Munchers is divided into different categories according to vowel sounds – “e” as in tree, “ou” as in mouse. The first one was “e” as in tree. He sounded out a lot of the words correctly, but not all of them. Even when he sounded them out right, he often “munched” words that weren’t in the same category. It was hard for Aaron to distinguish between long and short vowel sounds and he repeatedly stumbled over close pronunciations. An example was in the category “oo” as in book. I have to admit that the categories can be quite tricky sometimes, with only subtle differentiations between the words. For example, “hook” and “rope” both have a long-ish sounding “o” but they are not the same sound. This case was hard for Aaron, and I think that he is just starting to get the grasp of phonics in school. Between munching the wrong words and not getting them right and his friend Charlie next to him yelling at him to munch certain words, Aaron was unable to finish even five levels (it is necessary to complete five levels in the game to complete the beginner level according to the task card). I decided to help him out. I told him that he had to finish five levels to complete the beginner level. By this time, Aaron was frustrated and was often losing all three men in one level. “I can help you complete five levels,” I told him. “I’m an expert.” We switched chairs and I started to play. Instead of just letting him watch me, though, I got him and Charlie both to verbalize the target words. This was Aaron’s LAST man and I promised him that

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I wouldn’t let it die. I wouldn’t munch on the words unless they told me to and for words they were uncertain of, I would linger on it, pronounce it a couple of times and then pronounce the category a few times. This repetition seemed to work and to help Aaron, especially, distinguish between long and short vowel sounds. An example that I particularly remember (of the difficulty in distinguishing long and short vowels) was in the category “u” as in “mouse.” The boys thought that we had munched all the words, but we hadn’t. There were a lot left, with spellings different than “ou” but with the same pronunciation. I went to the word “clown.” “Clown?” I asked, and Aaron said “No.” “Listen again: clooowwn. And now mooouuuse. They don’t have to be spelled the same to sound the same.” Aaron eventually accepted this idea, though reluctantly. He assumed that they had to be spelled the same, but I said the words didn’t have to. They just had to sound the same. We made it to level four with me munching and the two of them giving me feedback on the words. “Ok, now YOU have to finish,” I told Aaron. “You can make it to level five.” This was the last man. I told him I’d help.

These notes describe an undergraduate engaging two children in a reading task and providing assistance for one of them in particular. They illustrate several routine features of the Fifth Dimension and the way it mixes play, friendship, and education. There is no doubt that instruction is going on here, but it is different from school instruction in several ways. The undergraduate supports the boys in a flexible manner that is regulated by her interpretation of what they know and her knowledge of the task. Although there are three participants, the division of labor that the undergraduate negotiates allows her to pinpoint one child’s biggest problem vis-a-vis phonics – the contrast between long and short vowel sounds. Using the possibilities provided by the rules of the Fifth Dimension and the structure of this particular game, the undergraduate provides encouragement by actually helping the child achieve his goals: she takes over part of the task while getting the boys to chip in and then turns the task back to the boy she is concentrating on and adopts the role of helpful spectator. Along the way she discovers a conceptual confusion that could be expected to prolong Aaron’s difficulties if not corrected – his belief that for words to sound alike they must be identically represented in writing. Is the Fifth Dimension effective? Technically adequate evaluation of Fifth Dimensions has proven an ongoing problem precisely because they occupy the after-school hours and participation is not mandatory. In some settings, the only way to

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evaluate the effects of participation in the Fifth Dimension is through careful, longitudinal records of the changing behaviors of individual children based on fieldnotes such as that given for the Word Munchers example. In other settings (for example, when a Fifth Dimension is implemented in a rural school where children stay after school under loose supervision so that their parents can complete their work days and there are many more children wishing to participate than the facilities can handle), true experimental evaluations have proven possible. In still other settings, it is possible to obtain school performance measures from participants and match them with similar children who do not attend. In all but a few cases where such comparisons have been possible, the Fifth Dimension has proven an effective way to promote children’s academic development. It has also been shown to promote the educational development of participating undergraduates (summarized in Cole and the Distributed Literacy Consortium 2006). My overall assessment is that the Fifth Dimension is an effective program that justifies the theoretical principles upon which it is based. Is the Fifth Dimension scalable? It is possible to interpret a developmental intervention as a “boutique program,” implementable only under the rare circumstances of an individual college course with a willing professor, a supportive administration, and an eager community partner. However, in recent decades we have witnessed in the US a growing movement in higher education to provide students with the kinds of academically-linked practicum experiences that are the core of the overall macro-structure of Fifth Dimension programs. Such arrangements are ordinarily discussed under the rubric of “academic service learning” (Butin 2005), and, as with the Fifth Dimension, there is accumulating evidence that such programs improve the performance of the college students involved. Consequently, I see enormous potential for scaling up programs such as the Fifth Dimension as colleges and universities, for their own academic reasons (supplemented by a long-standing, but generally empty, ideology of “helping the community”), begin to make the practicumstyle course exemplified by the Fifth Dimension a requirement for college graduation. This suggestion has now made its way into the rhetoric of some politicians in the US, and if there is sufficient social intelligence to move these political stirrings into all programs of higher education, an enormous number of children and youth can benefit from the kind of program described in the chapter. There is a way; there is not yet the will.

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references D. Belle, The After-school Lives of Children (Mahwah, NJ: Lawrence Erlbaum, 1999). U. Bronfenbrenner, Making Human Beings Human: Bio-ecologocial Perspectives on Human Development (Thousand Oaks, CA: Sage, 2005). D. W. Butin (ed.), Service-learning in Higher Education: Critical Issues and Directions (New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 2005). M. Carnoy, Sustaining the New Economy: Work, Family, and Community in the Information Age (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 2002). S. Chaiklin and J. Lave (eds.), Understanding Practice: Perspectives on Activity and Context (Cambridge: University of Cambridge Press, 1993). M. Cole, Cultural Psychology: A Once and Future Discipline (Cambridge, MA: Belknap-Harvard University Press, 1996). M. Cole and the Distributed Literacy Consortium, The Fifth Dimension: An After-school Program Build on Diversity (New York: Russell Sage Foundation, 2006). M. Cole, S. Cole, and C. Lightfoot, The Development of Children, Fifth edition (New York: Worth, 2004). A. Duranti and C. Goodwin, Rethinking Context: Language as an Interactive Phenomenon (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1992). J. Eccles and J. A. Gootman, Community Programs to Promote Youth Development: Committee on Community-level Programs for Youth (Washington, DC: National Academy Press, 2002). D. B. Elkonin, “Toward the problem of stages in the mental development of the child,” in M. Cole (ed.), Soviet Developmental Psychology (White Plains, NY: M. E. Sharpe, 1977), pp. 538–63. P. Griffin and M. Cole, “Current activity for the future: The zo-ped,” in B. Rogoff and J. V. Wertsch (eds.), Children’s Learning in the Zone of Proximal Development: New Directions for Child Development (No. 23) (San Francisco, CA: Jossey-Bass, 1984), pp. 45–64. R. Halpern, “A different kind of child development institution: The history of after-school programs for low-income children,” Teachers College Record, 104 (2002), 178–211. R. Halpern, Making Play Work: The Promise of After-school Programs for Lowincome Children (New York: Teachers College Press, 2003). A. Karmiloff-Smith, Beyond Modularity: A Developmental Perspective on Cognitive Science (Cambridge, MA: MIT Press, 1992). R. Larson and S. Verma, “How children and adolescents spend time across the world: Work, play, and developmental opportunities,” Psychological Bulletin, 125 (1999), 701–36. P. Lauer, M. Akiba, S. Wilkerson, H. Apthorp, D. Snow, and M. Martin-Glenn, The Effectiveness of Out-of-school-time Strategies in Assisting Low-achieving Students in Reading and Mathematics: A Research Synthesis, updated edition (Aurora, CO: Mid-Continent Research for Education and Learning, 2004 (www.mcrel.org/topics/productDetail.asp?productID¼151). J. Lave, Cognition in Practice (New York: Cambridge Univesity Press, 1989).

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A. N. Leontiev, Activity, Consciousness, and Personality (Englewood Cliffs, NJ: Prentice–Hall, 1978). D. Newman, P. Griffin, and M. Cole, The Construction Zone (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1989). S. Newman, J. A. Fox, E. A. Flynn, and W. Christeson, America’s After-school Choice: The Prime Time for Juvenile Crime or Youth Enrichment and Achievement (Washington, DC: Fight Crime: Invest in Kids, 2000). A. Nicolopoulou and M. Cole, “The Fifth Dimension, its play-world, and its institutional context: Generation and transmission of shared knowledge in the culture of collaborative learning,” in E. A. Forman, N. Minick, and C. A. Stone (eds.), Context for Learning: Sociocultural Dynamics in Children’s Development (New York: Oxford University Press, 1993). J. Piaget, “Piaget’s theory,” in P. Mussen (ed.), Charmichael’s Manual of Child Psychology. Volume 1, Third edition (New York: Wiley, 1970), pp. 703–32. B. Rogoff, The Cultural Nature of Human Development (London: Oxford University Press, 2003). S. Sarason, “Revisiting the creation of settings,” Mind, Culture, & Activity, 4 (1997), 175–82. L. S. Vygotsky, Mind in Society (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1978). J. Wertsch, Voices of the Mind (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1991).

21

Intervention programs to improve cognitive skills Sami G€ ulg€oz

In the spring semester of 1982, I took my first class with Ci
¸ gdem Ka
gıt¸cıba¸sı. She was a master communicator, meticulous and hard working, admired by even youngsters like us who were spring-struck in the beautiful surroundings of Bo
gazi¸ci University. Despite the fragrant spring, we never missed a class and my girlfriend also chose to take the class, partly because of Dr. Ka
gıt¸cıba¸sı’s reputation and partly because we wanted to spend less time apart. Because she was on a sabbatical the following year, I did not have the chance to work for Dr. Ka
gıt¸cıba¸sı and I have resented that many times. Now, for the past twelve years, I have had the blessing to work as a colleague in the same department and on several projects together with Ci
¸ gdem Ka
gıtc¸ ıba¸sı. Moreover, my girlfriend is my wife now and our daughter is a student taking Ci
¸ gdem Ka
gıt¸cıba¸sı’s class while working for her in a book project as well. We consider ourselves very lucky that she has been a part of our lives. Throughout this time, she supported and guided me in personal and career-related matters with compassion and elegance and she led me to the most exciting and meaningful projects like the Cognitive Improvement Program. It has been a privilege and I look forward to enjoying this for many more years.

As a consequence of a diverse set of reasons ranging from limited schooling opportunities to inadequacy of home environments and from lack of preschool education to low quality education, intervention programs around the world aim to improve cognitive skills of individuals in order to attain empowered populations and human capacity development. The need for intervention programs is partly an outcome of insufficient and inadequate schooling and partly the social, economic, and educational milieu that children are raised in. The regions, schools, and instructors vary in their capacity to provide the necessary educational material and support to children, and children may often suffer from an inability to benefit from a standard program and delivery. Intervention programs emerge as a consequence of observed deficiencies to substitute for or complement formal education. 350

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The basic assumption underlying intervention programs is that once an impact at a particular time is created, this will automatically facilitate later development. It follows from this assumption that earlier intervention programs will provide the most benefit. Therefore, most intervention programs are directed towards early ages. This reasoning is not well substantiated because it is plausible that later environments and demands on the individual may lead to stagnation or even reverse the effects of earlier intervention. Intervention programs are necessary to close the gaps between social groups and to support those in need of such support at all ages. It is important not only to make a difference in individuals’ lives but also to sustain the improvements. In this chapter, I review some intervention programs that target different populations. After this overview, I continue to present the studies we conducted on two cognitive intervention programs that have benefited from the contributions of Dr. Ka
gıtc¸ ıba¸sı. Finally, in the last part of the chapter, I discuss the difficulties associated with research on intervention and address some issues that concern the present and the future of the intervention programs and research evaluating them. An overview of intervention programs Intervention programs for children Philosophy for Children The Philosophy for Children program aimed to create an environment of inquiry where children interact with the instructor in a Socratic relationship (Lipman et al. 1980). The program was implemented in the US first in a class of twenty fifth-grade children in two forty-minute sessions per week for nine weeks. At the end of nine weeks, when compared with a comparable group of nonparticipants, children showed increased intelligence scores. After 2.5 years, the participant group was still ahead of the control group. The Educational Testing Service conducted a more comprehensive study of the program impact by comparing 200 program participants with an equal-sized control group. Results of this study showed significant increases in measures of reading and mathematics, as well as measures of reasoning in some groups (cited in Lipman et al. 1980). Project Intelligence This project began at the end of the 1970s in Venezuela with the purpose of improving the ability of students to perform effectively on a wide variety of intellectually demanding tasks (Nickerson et al. 1985). Seventh-grade students who were from low

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income and low education families participated in the program. The intervention was designed to last about a year, with students attending the program three to four times a week for forty five-minute sessions where they were taught thinking strategies and given opportunities to practice them. Research on the effects of the program (Herrnstein et al. 1986) showed that children in both the experimental and control groups achieved some gains on test scores. The analyses showed substantially more improvement in the intervention group compared to the control group, with effect sizes ranging between d ¼ 0.35 and d ¼ 0.70, with the exception of d ¼ 0.11 on the Cattell Culture Fair Intelligence Test. Family intervention programs Even Start Family Literacy Program This program was established in the US with the purpose of improving reading and other academic skills in low income children and their parents (US Department of Education 2002). The program provides early childhood education to children while improving their parents’ literacy skills and training them to teach their children. An extensive study conducted by St. Pierre et al. (2005) assessed the impact of the program on children’s achievement by evaluating eighteen Even Start programs. The results indicated little or no effect of the program in the immediate and follow-up measures. Mother–Child Education Program Designed as an alternative to formal institutional early childhood education in Turkey, the Mother– Child Education Program (MOCEP) intends to empower and train mothers so that they can provide better care and enhanced stimulation for their children in their home environment (Ka
gıtc¸ ıba¸sı 1997). Several studies were conducted to evaluate the effectiveness of this program. In two of these studies, different implementations of MOCEP were tested. In one version, MOCEP was tested with HIPPY as its cognitive component (Ka
gıt¸cıba¸sı et al. 2001) and it was shown that the children whose mothers received training performed better than the control group on cognitive measures, achievement tests, and school performance. Bekman (1998) conducted an evaluation study of a later version of MOCEP with a different cognitive component (ZEP) specifically developed in Turkey. In this study, 102 children who were trained by their mothers were compared with 115 matching children whose mothers were not participating in MOCEP. The results showed that children of participating mothers made more cognitive gains than children of non-participating mothers.

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Intervention programs for adults Adult Basic Education This is a state-run program designed for adults who have not had high school education, particularly immigrants. The main goals are to enable participants to obtain high school diplomas and to improve their job prospects. Research on the effects of the program in Tennessee relied mostly on self-reports (Merrifield et al. 1994) and indicated that the job prospects of the participants increased significantly. A later study (Bingman et al. 1999) examined the changes in participants’ lives and observed that the employment rate of the participants increased 16 percent, their self-esteem showed an increase of 0.14 points on a five-point scale, and community involvement increased approximately 10 percent. There were no changes in variables related to literacy practice, family life, and life satisfaction and there were no differences between the substantial-participation group and limitedparticipation group. Research on two intervention programs in Turkey Our research group has been involved in the assessment of two intervention programs that were primarily concerned with improving cognitive skills. One of the programs was less traditional in its scope in that its aim was to reach adult illiterates in order to teach functional literacy. The second program was developed with the purpose of improving the cognitive skills of children between the ages of eleven and thirteen. Both of these programs were implemented by non-governmental organizations at informal educational settings with volunteering participants. The following sections summarize the contents of these programs and some of the findings in research on program effectiveness. Teaching literacy to adults The Functional Adult Literacy Program (FALP) was developed by Durguno
glu et al. (1996) for the Mother–Child Education Foundation (MOCEF) for adults with no reading and writing skills. It emerged as a new system of literacy training utilizing the phonological advantage and the regularity of the Turkish alphabet’s systematic letter-sound correspondence. The FALP has two levels: the first phase lasts 120 hours and the second eighty hours. The effectiveness of a literacy training program may be investigated on two levels. Acquiring literacy may influence participants’ daily and social

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lives as well as their cognitive skills. Because the program emphasizes functional literacy, the critical question is the impact of training on women’s daily life. We may very well expect functionally illiterate adults to function adequately in a society by relying on others in specific social contexts rather than on written information (Sticht 1988–1989). Thus, acquiring a working level of literacy may lead to virtually no change in day-to-day functioning of the participating women. However, Ka
gıt¸cıba¸sı et al. (2005a) have shown that training provided to adult women participating in the functional adult literacy program had significant effects on factors related to daily life and interactions with their social environment. These individuals gained an improved self-concept, they began to participate more in social and political life as observed in voting behavior and organizational participation, and there was significant change in family dynamics. Participant women demonstrated a particularly strong increase in television news recall (d ¼ 0.87 for topic recall, d ¼ 0.73 for content recall), which pointed to a clear interest and involvement in social and political life. Even though the indirect effects of teaching functional literacy are of great consequence, demonstrating the presence of cognitive changes that come about with literacy are vital. € An initial evaluation study of the FALP (Durguno
glu and Oney 2002) assessed the changes in literacy skills and other cognitive abilities resulting from program participation. The comparison of fifty-nine FALP participants before and after taking part in the program for ninety hours showed significant progress in letter and word recognition, spelling, phonological awareness, and reading comprehension levels. A more comprehensive investigation was conducted by asking 119 FALP participants and eighty-four non-participants to complete various cognitive skill tests (G€ ulg€ oz 2003). The cognitive skills measured in the study included: (a) general knowledge, (b) numerical skills such as writing numbers and addition, (c) basic verbal skills such as word meaning and reading words, (d) complex verbal skills such as making inferences and writing a brief narrative, (e) spatial skills such as figural copying, (f) working memory, and (g) story schema knowledge. Many of the FALP participants continued to the second phase of the program, thus making it impossible for us to utilise follow-up measures that would indicate the maintenance of skills gained in the first phase of the program. The follow-up measures were carried out after the completion of the second phase, and are, therefore, indicative of how well the skills are maintained after they have been reinforced in the second phase of the program. Thus, they cannot provide realistic estimates of how well the first phase gains are preserved or possibly reinforced without participation in the second phase.

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The results of the comparisons between measures before and after the first phase of the program indicated clear and significant gains in skills directly related to literacy. Significant differences were observed in measures like letter recognition (d ¼ 1.13), working memory (d ¼ 0.35 and d ¼ 0.41 in two different measures), arithmetic (d ¼ 0.33), reading words (d ¼ 0.83), writing words (d ¼ 0.79), and writing numbers (d ¼ 0.85), as well as more complex tasks such as text comprehension (d ¼ 0.60), memory for basic information from narratives (d ¼ 0.38), writing simple composition (d ¼ 0.39), and extracting direction information from bulletin boards (d ¼ 0.65). It is remarkable that working memory skills were also affected positively as an indirect benefit of program participation. Those measures that exhibited improvements were analyzed for loss by follow-up observations after four months. All of the measures indicated that program gains were maintained except for writing numbers, in which there was a significant but small decline (d ¼ 0.25). These are measures taken after the second phase of the program; they call attention to the necessity of the reinforcement of acquired skills. Cognitive capacity improvement program Even though elementary education may equip children from disadvantaged socio-economic backgrounds in Turkey with basic cognitive skills, complex cognitive skills do not develop adequately for various reasons including, but not limited to, inadequate quality of education in crowded public schools, the emphasis on knowledge acquisition rather than skill acquisition in the years beyond elementary education, the discrepancy between rural and urban cultures, and the ramifications of this discrepancy for the migrant populations of former peasants. These are global problems of human development (Ka
gıt¸cıba¸sı 1996) that are also observed elsewhere. G€ ulg€ oz et al. (2001) developed the Cognitive Improvement Program (CIP) to support the cognitive development of children aged between eleven and thirteen who were thought to be at the crossroads for the development of complex cognitive skills and abstract thinking. The program aims to engage students in activities that stimulate cognitive functioning, create a higher level of cognitive activity, and establish patterns of activity with repeated stimulation. The program consists of 135 modules of various cognitive tasks. The length of each task is between twenty and forty minutes and the whole program covers the duration of one school year, with weekly meetings of approximately two hours. The modules incorporate activities designed to develop different cognitive skills. The general framework of the program emphasizes the initiation,

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practice, and automatization of sub-skills that comprise abstract thinking, hypothetical thinking, strategic problem solving, critical thinking, and divergent thinking. In developing the program, we assumed that the development of a particular skill would be possible by posing new problems or situations necessitating that skill and scaffolding the development process. The skill would generalize to different contexts if novel problems of different nature and content required similar skills. Our strategy was to present children with new problems and novel situations in every task to maintain interest and motivation while enabling them to develop their skills in interaction with the facilitators and each other. The program is currently implemented by volunteer facilitators from the Educational Volunteers Foundation of Turkey, at Foundation centers located in disadvantaged neighborhoods. The facilitators, who are generally young university students, are taught to be facilitators rather than teachers, allowing children to discover solutions and strategies at their own pace. They are trained within a framework in which multiple solutions and multiple strategies are encouraged and shared and free discussion of strategies ensues. The first attempt at evaluating the impact of the CIP was a pilot study conducted before the program was in its final form. The sample consisted of 129 children participating in a short-term trial version of the program (G€ ulg€ oz 2000) that lasted only six weeks; during this period only the first twenty-four modules of the program were implemented. These were the most basic levels of the cognitive skills program and complexity was increased gradually. Pre- to post-comparisons showed significant improvement on the Reading Test and Whimbey Analytical Skills Inventory. The scores on the Concrete Reasoning Test showed an interaction with the location of program. The differences were significant and in the expected direction in four locations and not significant in six locations. Children with lower levels of performance at the beginning of the program improved the most. Although the results were encouraging, it would have been premature to arrive at a conclusion about the impact of the intervention. We later conducted a more comprehensive study on approximately half of the 135-module program that included 222 CIP participants and 182 participants of school-curriculum support programs, which consisted of reviewing topics covered at school. Both groups of participants attended training programs for sixteen weeks and were evaluated with a pre- and post-test. The participants were tested by the Sternberg Triarchic Abilities Test (Sternberg et al. 2001). The analyses showed that the CIP group performed significantly better after program participation (d ¼ 0.62). When the individual subtests were analyzed separately, the same result was

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obtained (the effect sizes varying between d ¼ 0.38 and d ¼ 0.55) except for one subtest. One of the concerns in this study was whether children of all ability levels were benefiting from the program. The group with the highest pre-test scores performed fairly highly in the post-test and their gain from the program was minimal and statistically insignificant. The groups with medium and low levels of performance in the pre-test made significant and large gains (d ¼ 1.34 and d ¼ 1.87, respectively). The performances of all three groups in the test at the end of program participation were approximately equal. These results show considerable benefits from program participation, even if for only half the duration of the complete program. Although this is encouraging, the real benefits need to be measured in terms of longterm durability of acquired skills, the enhancement provided by these gains in the development of other, more complex skills, and the contribution of these gains to the child’s performance of different roles such as student, employee, citizen, and parent. Issues in research on program effectiveness Most programs are supported by funding agencies which demand some indication that program implementation provides benefits that justify the costs. Regardless of whether program benefits can be shown or not, studies on effectiveness are inherently problematic. The most common and the most controlled design used in such studies is the pre-test posttest design with a control group and the issues to be discussed below are intertwined with the quasi-experimental nature of such designs. Attrition Attrition can be a problem in two ways. One is that many participants may quit the program at certain point and there may not be a single clear reason for quitting. They may quit as a consequence of program-related matters or because of circumstances independent of the program. An adequate assessment of the program needs to take into consideration those factors influential in attrition. Attrition may also occur in testing such that the individuals in the pre-test group may not be available for the subsequent tests. With control groups, the most common cause may be the incentive for participation. In our experiences with research on FALP and CIP studies, the major problem for both the treatment groups and the control groups was the difficulty and length of the tests. Particularly for the control groups for whom there was no opportunity for progress between two instances, the testing process was a frustrating

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experience of a series of impossible questions. In our study of FALP effectiveness, the number of control group participants was reduced drastically in the follow-up because the participants refused to go through the same ordeal for the third time. The difficulty of detecting change Achieving statistical significance requires (a) large mean differences between the control group and the treatment group and between pretest and post-test, (b) small variances, and (c) a large group of participants. In research settings with relatively little experimental control, such as program evaluation studies, meeting all three requirements may not be viable. When there is high variability, the increments in benefit would better be considered by subdividing the sample into more homogeneous groups. However, regardless of the properties of the data, statistical significance should not be the sole criterion for judgment of effectiveness. Other indicators of program benefits, particularly qualitative indicators, should also be taken into consideration. Changes in different measures or domains The common procedure in the assessment of program effectiveness involves multiple measures because a set of measurements provides a more reliable indicator than any single measure (Rushton et al. 1983). The puzzle emerges when the results of different measures are not consistent. Obtaining a significant effect when measured with some instruments and not others necessitate the analysis of the constructs associated with each measure. For example, in our study on FALP, more basic measures of working memory yielded improvement associated with program participation whereas more complex measures did not. When different measures tap into distinct constructs, one can discuss the differential effect of the program on different skills and it would be feasible to approach it as the assessment of different program components. Inconsistent change across subgroups For the sake of generalizability, testing different groups in multiple settings is preferred but a problem arises when different results are obtained from different groups. For example, in the initial evaluation study of CIP, there were major differences depending on the location of implementation. The variation created by the location of the training may stem from various factors. Different locations may serve different

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demographic and social groups and the implementation by different instructors may reveal considerable variability. It is likely that faithful implementation of programs augments the success of the programs, just as it did in language and literacy intervention integrated to Head Start classrooms (Wasik et al. 2006). Problems emerged when the teacher behaviors demanded by the language and literacy intervention program conflicted with those specified by the Head Start program. In many cases, the inconsistency across subgroups of participants is directly related to teacher behaviors, but assessment of teacher behavior is almost impossible and the variability of behavior may lead to a large portion of unaccounted variance. Actual participation All studies on the effectiveness of intervention programs assume that the participants have attended the program and actively engaged in the activities, utilizing optimum resources. However, participation rates are not recorded in many intervention programs. Even when they are available and included among variables of interest, they may be misleading because attendance does not necessarily indicate engagement or active learning. Long-term effects Most intervention programs last a long period of time. Testing participants before and after program implementation without experiencing serious loss in sample size is a major accomplishment in itself. In order to evaluate long-term implications of program participation, the treatment and control groups need to undergo another assessment after a considerable time. Most such research has difficulty convincing the program participants and non-participant controls to take part in subsequent series of follow-up tests or interviews. Among the examples discussed above, no evaluations of long-term effects are available for Project Intelligence or for our own cognitive improvement program. The FALP evaluation study employed a follow-up to ensure that any differences between groups achieved by program participation were preserved four months later. One of the problems of such long-term evaluation is that, as the interval between the date of participation and the follow-up test is increased, the probability of recruiting the research participants again is reduced. A rare example of research where participants could be reached after a long time interval is that of Ka
gıt¸cıba¸sı et al. (2005b), which

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showed that children of mothers who were Mother–Child Education Program participants were more likely to graduate from high school when compared with matching non-participants. Control groups In many program effectiveness studies, there may not be a control group at all (e.g., the Adult Literacy Program in Tennessee; Bingman et al. 1999). When there is one, the critical point is how the constituency of the participant group differs from that of the control group. For example, in most programs, participants are self-selecting, volunteering individuals who are motivated to make progress in the domain of intervention. In addition, the treatment and control groups may differ in various demographic characteristics, such as age and social group or any other variable not used for matching. Control groups may be selected from waiting list groups, matched non-participants participating in an alternative program, non-matched non-participants participating in an alternative program, matched nonparticipants not participating in any program, or non-matched nonparticipants not participating in any program. The main criticisms of research on Project Intelligence (Herrnstein et al. 1986) were related to the equivalence of the experimental and control groups. For example, Mellenbergh and van den Brink (1988) pointed out that the experimental and control groups came from different schools, teachers were selected from volunteers, and the experimental group spent more time on classroom activities. McCoach et al. (2006) conducted a longitudinal study with children spanning in age from kindergarten to second grade and observed that differences between different schools (akin to intervention programs) were largely due to the characteristics of the children and their families rather than the actual implementation taking place in schools. Therefore, it is evident that even under circumstances where the program participants are matched, the dissimilarity in their environments may account for test score differences. It is crucial to emphasize that the disparity between groups may conceal real program effects by introducing random-seeming variability as often as it produces effects that are incorrectly attributed to the program. Issues for future cognitive intervention programs Even though discouraging reports of limited success in many cognitive improvement programs reduce the motivation to initiate a new program, the intense pressure of the need to foster underprivileged groups will

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compel new programs regardless. With the experience of program development and research on the effectiveness of these programs, the following appear to be some of the issues that demand attention. Concept of intelligence One of my personal experiences will appropriately demonstrate the gap between researchers of cognition and our audience in identifying the targeted improvement. In a training session for the program instructors, after I gave a long and detailed explanation of the Cognitive Improvement Program, specifying the different skills it addresses, a member of the audience responded by saying: “So, you are trying to improve the intelligence of children.” No matter how much we shy away from tackling this issue, we will have to face the fact that the concept of cognitive skills is entangled with the concept of intelligence. The Venezuela project was called Project Intelligence but many others refrain from claims about intelligence, probably in order to avert discussions regarding whether intelligence can be taught. Perkins and Grotzer (1997), in their review, discuss whether it is really intelligence that is taught in various programs. A dispositional approach like those of Herrnstein and Murray (1994) would forward arguments that programs have minor influences, these effects dissipate in the long term, and they show improvement in specialized skills gained in the program. Perkins and Grotzer (1997) claim that these programs do indeed teach intelligence, insofar as they focus on teaching thinking strategies and metacognition and incorporate effort to transfer acquired cognitive skills to other domains. One critical problem is whether thinking strategies and metacognition would qualify as components of intelligence. A discrepancy between definitions of intelligence from the psychometric view and from the cognitive view is at the root of the problem. Future programs must delineate the components of intervention that may relate to intelligence and research on these programs must include intelligence tests even if these tests are more timeconsuming. Who benefits? Participants of a cognitive intervention program generally display a large range of skill levels. In many intervention programs, one of the main questions is whether participants of each skill level benefit equally from the program. There seem to be three possible outcomes. One is that everyone benefits equally. The second possible outcome is that poorer

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participants benefit more because they have more to learn and because there may be a ceiling effect for better participants. In this case, all participants may complete the program at approximately the same level. Finally, a third possible outcome is that participants who begin at a higher level benefit more. This may occur because these participants already have the necessary skills or because they are better equipped to learn, and therefore they progress faster and more smoothly. Ceci and Papierno (2005) assert that many intervention programs widen the existing gaps instead of bringing the advantaged and disadvantaged groups together. They refer to many studies where, while both groups make progress, the group with higher levels of pre-existing skills or knowledge makes more progress than the less skilled group. In many studies, the varying effects of the program on different ability groups are not investigated, although for program evaluation purposes this type of information is most useful. The initial analyses of the data on the effects of the television program “Sesame Street” (Ball and Bogatz 1970) had shown that disadvantaged children approached the advantaged children. However, later analyses on the same dataset showed a greater improvement by middle class children than lower class children (Cook et al. 1975). Baydar et al. (in press) were able to show that children who attained lower scores before watching a televised education program demonstrated the largest improvement, whereas highly skilled children benefited little or not at all. In a similar vein, our results on CIP effectiveness demonstrated that the lower the student’s level at the beginning of the program, the more progress is observed. At the end of the program, the levels achieved by all three groups (low, medium, and high) were on a par. Generalization and transfer of skills to other domains The shared expectation in program development is that skills acquired during the intervention program will generalize and transfer to domains beyond the necessarily limited scope of the program. The majority of program effectiveness studies focus on skills taught in the program. However, there are some exceptions. For example, Desoete et al. (2003) report a study where elementary school children were provided a metacognitive intervention program while other groups of children were provided alternative training programs. They observed a consistent effect of the metacognitive program in the trained metacognitive skills as well as problem solving in mathematics. However, these effects were limited to the domain of instruction material without any indication of transfer

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to other realms. In another study (Williams et al. 2005), students’ skills in comprehending compare-contrast texts were improved and transfer of this improvement to novel compare-contrast texts was observed. However, there was no progress in the comprehension of texts other than compare-and-contrast types. Both of these studies demonstrate limited transfer of acquired skills, that is, of the ability to utilize these skills in cases of similar problems but not in unfamiliar contexts. Transfer of skills or the enhancement of one skill by another can be achieved in a unidirectional fashion as well. For example, Jordan et al. (2002) report a study where they identified a group of elementary school students who had difficulties in math only, reading only, difficulties in both math and reading, or no difficulties. Studying the growth in the achievement of these children, they observed that reading abilities influence children’s progression in mathematics but mathematics ability is not related to growth in reading. The relationship to community Most intervention programs overlook the role of the local community in the achievement of the program objectives, even though the local community of the participant may have a decisive influence. The primary influence concerns the support of the community during the intervention program. The changes in the individuals of the community will have ripple effects in the community and the community may resist such change, creating an obstacle for participation. In contrast, another community may welcome change and encourage the development of its constituents. In addition, when the intervention program ends, sending program participants back to their impoverished environments or schools may result in inability to sustain development thus leading to a reversal of obtained benefits. Many follow-up studies exhibiting setbacks may be suffering from inadequate community involvement and point to the necessity of continued support. Another important aspect of the relationship with the community is sensitivity to the characteristics of the local community. Most programs are developed using a one-size-fits-all approach. However, characteristics of the local community or the actual deficiencies emerging from that community may necessitate adaptation of the program according to local needs. It is quite likely that observations of variability in the success of the program across different locations are related to the unique requirements and characteristics of each community.

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Conclusion A brief review of some cognitive intervention programs was presented and issues related to program design and research on effectiveness were discussed. Many of the issues discussed here were derived from our own experiences in design, implementation, and evaluation of intervention programs. The new generation of programs will undoubtedly learn from the mistakes of earlier ones but it is equally plausible that many issues will not be resolved. Solutions to some problems may be derived from the use of media and technology. Although the allure of technology has blinded many from the benefits of interpersonal relationship and communication in training programs, intelligent use may actually deliver desired results, particularly the need to deliver the intervention programs to larger populations. Here, the review of research has undoubtedly been limited in scope and depth. There is a vast amount of research on intervention programs and many of these studies point to effectiveness of programs despite the problems and issues discussed in this chapter. Much research did not get published because no effects could be shown. For that reason, there is no way of knowing the extent to which intervention programs succeed in delivering their promise. Measuring effectiveness must not be the sole purpose of such research; measuring the variables that impinge on the amount of benefit derived from the program is also critical information that would be of concern to later programs. Research on program effectiveness must create more controlled environments and measure every possible aspect of the intervention, perceiving them as potential variables influencing the outcome of the program. Researchers must devise novel and multiple ways of measuring outcome as well as the variables influencing the outcome. It is crucial to bear in mind that many new discoveries in measurement techniques and research methodology still lie ahead of us. references S. Ball and G. A. Bogatz, The First Year of Sesame Street: An Evaluation (Princeton, NJ: Educational Testing Service, 1970). N. Baydar, C. ¸ Ka
gıt¸cıba¸sı, A. C. K€ untay, and F. G€ ok¸sen, “Effects of an educational television program on preschoolers: Variability in benefits,” Journal of Applied Development Psychology (in press). S. Bekman, A Fair Chance: An Evaluation of the Mother–Child Education Program _ ( Istanbul: Mother–Child Education Foundation, 1998). M. B. Bingman, O. Ebert, and M. Smith, Changes in Learners’ Lives One Year after Enrollment in Literacy Programs (Cambridge, MA: National Center for the Study of Adult Learning and Literacy, 1999).

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S. J. Ceci and P. B. Papierno, “The rhetoric and reality of gap closing: When the ‘have-nots’ gain but the ‘haves’ gain even more,” American Psychologist, 60 (2005), 149–60. T. D. Cook, H. Appleton, R. Conner, A. Shaffer, G. Tamkin, and S. J. Weber, “Sesame Street” revisited (New York: Russell Sage Foundation, 1975). A. Desoete, H. Roeyers, and A. De Clerq, “Can offline metacognition enhance mathematical problem solving?,” Journal of Educational Psychology, 95 (2003), 188–200. € A. Y. Durguno
glu and B. Oney, “Phonological awareness in literacy acquisition: It’s not only for children,” Scientific Studies of Reading, 6 (2002), 245–66. € A. Y. Durguno
glu, B. Oney, and H. Ku¸scul, “Evaluation of an adult literacy _ program in Istanbul,” paper presented at the American Educational Research Association Meeting, New York, 1996. S. G€ ulg€ oz, “A Program to improve cognitive capacities of children,” paper presented at the 27th International Congress of Psychology, Stockholm, Sweden, 2000. S. G€ ulg€ oz, Anne–Cocuk ¸ E
g itim Vakfı i¸slevsel yeti¸skin okur yazarlık programı de
g erlendirme ara¸stırması [Mother–Child Education Foundation Functional Adult Literacy Program Evaluation Research] (Istanbul: Anne Cocuk ¸ E
gitim Vakfı, 2003). _ Ataibi¸s, and A. E. UzunS. G€ ulg€ oz, E. Erktin, C. ¸ Ka
gıtc¸ ıba¸sı, P. Cetinkaya, ¸ I. €n yap program tanıtım Sabol, Zihinsel kapasiteyi geli¸stirme programı oku d€ us¸u kitabı [Cognitive Capacity Improvement Read Think Do Program Handbook] (Istanbul: T€ urkiye E
gitim G€ on€ ull€ uleri Vakfı, 2001). R. J. Herrnstein and C. Murray, The Bell Curve: Intelligence and Class Structure in American Life (New York: Free Press, 1994). R. J. Herrnstein, R. S. Nickerson,M. de Sanchez, and J. A. Swets, “Teaching thinking skills,” American Psychologist, 41 (1986), 1279–89. N. C. Jordan, D. Kaplan, and L. B. Hanich, “Achievement growth in children with learning difficulties in mathematics: Findings of a two-year longitudinal study,” Journal of Educational Psychology, 94 (2002), 586–97. C. ¸ Ka
gıt¸cıba¸sı, Family and Human Development across Cultures: A View from the Other Side (Hillsdale, NJ: Lawrence Erlbaum, 1996). C. ¸ Ka
gıtc¸ ıba¸sı, “Interactive mediated learning: The Turkish experience,” International Journal of Early Childhood, 29 (1997), 22–32. C. ¸ Ka
gıt¸cıba¸sı, F. G€ ok¸sen, and S. G€ ulg€ oz, “Functional adult literacy and empowerment of women: Impact of a functional literacy program on Turkish women,” Journal of Adolescent and Adult Literacy, 48 (2005a), 472–89. C. ¸ Ka
gıt¸cıba¸sı, D. Sunar, and S. Bekman, “Long-term effects of early intervention: Turkish low-income mothers and children,” Journal of Applied Developmental Psychology, 22 (2001), 333–61. C. ¸ Ka
gıt¸cıba¸sı, D. Sunar, S. Bekman, and Z. Cemalcılar, Continuing Effects of Early Intervention in Adult Life: Preliminary Findings of Turkish Early Enrichment Project Second Follow-up Study (Istanbul: (Mother–Child Education Foundation, 2005b). M. Lipman, A. M. Sharp, and E. Oscanyan, Philosophy in the Classroom (Philadelphia, PA: Temple University Press, 1980).

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D. B. McCoach, A. A. O’Connell, S. M. Reis, and H. A. Levitt, “Growing readers: A hierarchical linear model of children’s reading growth during the first 2 years of school,” Journal of Educational Psychology, 98 (2006), 14–28. G. J. Mellenbergh and W. P. van den Brink, “Methodological comments on ‘Teaching Thinking Skills,’” American Psychologist, 43 (1988), 600–2. J. Merrifield, M. Smith, K. Rea, and D. Crosse, Longitudinal Study of Adult Literacy Participants in Tennessee: Year-two Report (Knoxville, TN: Center for Literacy Studies, 1994). R. S. Nickerson, D. N. Perkins, and E. E. Smith, The Teaching of Thinking (Hillsdale, NJ: Lawrence Erlbaum, 1985). D. N. Perkins and T. A. Grotzer, “Teaching intelligence,” American Psychologist, 52 (1997), 1125–33. J. P. Rushton, C. J. Brainerd, and M. Pressley, “Behavioral development and construct validity: The principle of aggregation,” Psychological Bulletin, 94 (1983), 18–38. R. G. St. Pierre, A. E. Ricciuti, and T. A. Rimdzius, “Effects of a family literacy program on low-literate children and their parents: Findings from an evaluation of the Even Start Family Literacy Program,” Developmental Psychology, 41 (2005), 953–70. R. J. Sternberg, R. L. Castejon, M. D. Prieto, J. Hautamaki, and E. L. Grigorenko, “Confirmatory factor analysis of the Sternberg Triarchic Abilities Test in three international samples: An empirical test of the triarchic theory of intelligence,” European Journal of Psychological Assessment, 17 (2001), 1–16. T. G. Sticht, ‘Adult literacy education’, Review of Research in Education 15 (1988–1989): 59–96. US Department of Education, Guidance for the William F. Goodling Even Start Family Literacy Programs (Washington, DC: Office of Elementary and Secondary Education, 2002). B. A. Wasik, M. A. Bond, and A. Hindman, “The effects of a language and literacy intervention on Head Start children and teachers,” Journal of Educational Psychology, 98 (2006), 63–74. J. P. Williams, K. M. Hall, K. D. Lauer, K. B. Stafford, L. A. DeSisto, and J. S. DeCani, “Expository text comprehension in the primary grade classroom,” Journal of Educational Psychology, 97 (2005), 538–50.

22

Pro-poor approaches to using technology for human development: Monitoring and evaluation perspectives Daniel A. Wagner

I am pleased to be able contribute a chapter to this volume that honors the work of Ci
¸ gdem Ka
gıtc¸ ıba¸sı. In my view, Dr. Ka
gıtc¸ ıba¸sı’s work is unique in that it approaches, in significant and creative ways, the intersection of the science of human development with the potential of practical benefits for children and families. This may sound easy, and even obvious – but it is not. The field of child and human development has often evidenced a high though largely imperceptible wall between science and practice. That wall is even higher when cultural and international perspectives are taken into account. That is, when crosscultural and cross-national dimensions of any phenomenon are taken into consideration, it is most often to confirm (or deny) the validity of some “universal” theory. Ka
gıt¸cıba¸sı is one of the few scholars who has not only drawn our attention to the ethnocentric nature of simplistic theory-testing, but has tried, in her seminal work, to promote bridges that will translate theory into the practice (and vice versa) of improving children’s lives. She has charted new ground consistently on a professional voyage that has allowed her to become one of the most recognized of development psychologists worldwide – which she richly deserves. The present chapter picks up on one of Ka
gıt¸cıba¸sı’s continuing themes, namely, that of how to meet the needs of poor children and youth, and understand impacts derived from interventions.

Introduction In a world concerned with enormous differences between rich nations and poor nations, and between groups within all nations, educational achievement continues to be at the top of the list for social and economic investment. Yet, the evidence on what works best in such investments is very mixed, and the world continues to change at a rapid pace, in part due to new information and communications technologies (ICTs) that 

This chapter is derived in part from an earlier work by this author (Wagner 2005). This chapter was supported by the Spencer Foundation, JPMorganChase Foundation, InfoDev/World Bank, and the University of Pennsylvania.

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are driving a restructuring of the global economy. In the analysis that follows, we consider the impact of such technologies in the light of educational development among the poor. What is Pro-poor Information and Communications Technology for Education (ICT4E)? First, we need to ask why ICTs might be an important key to the promoting the Millennium Development Goals (MDG) of educational equity. There are multiple answers, such as those below: 1..ICTs have the ability to deliver high-quality materials directly to the learner, without having to “transit” through a teacher or textbook (both of which may be “out of date”). 2..ICTs are easily and cheaply replicable, for example, on CD-ROMs. 3..ICTs increasingly have the capability of providing tailored materials that are language-sensitive, gender-sensitive, and attractive in other ways to the learner. 4..ICTs are inherently motivating. There is no country in the world that has children and youth that are uninterested in ICTs. In an era of increasing globalization, there is no social and economic domain where one feels a greater pressure of rapid change than that of technology. And, there is no domain where it appears that the gap between rich and poor seems to be laid bare so starkly. Yet, long before the term digital divide became a common way to describe gaps between the rich and poor in access and use of ICTs, many policy makers, researchers, and practitioners could at least agree on one thing: reaching the poorest of the poor with ICTs was going to be a very difficult challenge. Even reaching the so-called ordinary poor (that is, individuals with some secondary schooling, living in predominantly urban areas) would entail challenges of electrical power, telecommunications connectivity, human resources infrastructure, and the like. Reaching the poorest of the poor (that is, illiterate children with little or no schooling, girls and women in difficult domestic circumstances and living in predominantly rural areas, and those speaking minority languages) would be considerably more difficult. The UN MDGs (see www.un.org/millenniumgoals), ratified in 2005, are very clear about the need to promote educational and social equity along a number of key parameters, especially by gender (women and girls), and among “marginalized” populations (such as illiterate persons, ethno-linguistic minorities, refugees, and so forth). This chapter describes some of the options and constraints of improving educational equity through a pro-poor approach to ICTs

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for education (termed ICT4E) in developing countries, by focusing on how evidence is gathered in the monitoring and evaluation (M&E) of projects. M&E is a “driver” of both further innovation and effective change in a number of ways, as follows: 1.. M&E is applied research, and therefore is about thinking of how to make things work better. 2.. M&E is about measuring the impact of any intervention, and thus can point the way to further innovation. 3.. M&E is about feedback to funding agencies, and thus helps to shape future social and economic investments. 4.. M&E is about tracking the relative impacts of any intervention on specific populations, and thus provides a better understanding of socio-demographic equity. 5.. M&E methods consider not only the demographic “inputs,” but also the range of “outputs” from intervention efforts. Who are the “poor” in the world today? Clearly, poverty is a relative term – the poor in New York would have resources quite different from the poor in urban Johannesburg or rural Senegal. Yet, using UN data, there is general consensus, as stated in a recent World Bank Annual Report (2004), that on average approximately 10–20 percent of the populations of industrialized countries are poor, while this number climbs to a range of 40–60 percent in the bottom third of less developed countries (LDCs). In poor LDCs, the characteristics of poverty include an average per capita income of less than 1–2 US dollars per day, high illiteracy levels (including either illiteracy or “functional illiteracy” of 40–50 percent of the overall population), and relatively low social status (as related to gender, ethnicity, language, geographic location, and so on). It is variously estimated that, globally, only a tiny fraction (less than 5 percent) of ICT investments have focused on the poor as defined above (Wagner and Kozma 2005). Indeed, when considering the life opportunities of the world’s poorest populations, direct investments of ICTs have clearly been more rhetorical than real. What is the overall scale of the target population that is covered within the pro-poor ICT framework above? Women and minority language status may be overlapping, but clearly contain a large majority of those on the wrong side of the digital divide. Further, there are over 100 million primary school-aged children out of school, and about one billion adult illiterates, the majority of whom reside in the poorest countries of South Asia and Africa (UNESCO 2000). Even these large numbers are likely to be a serious underestimation of literacy needs in the digital age. Indeed,

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if a larger set of skill competencies (reading, writing, math, ICT literacy) were included, along with the limited efficiency of adult literacy and “second chance” education programs, and the very low quality of many poor rural schools in developing countries, it would probably be more accurate to say that those in need of improved basic skills (required in order to effectively use ICT) today represent between two to three billion individuals (Wagner and Kozma 2005). Of these individuals, we might estimate that at least half are among the poorest of the poor, as they will undoubtedly be over-represented by ethno-linguistic groups for whom ICT access in the international languages of the world (i.e., English, French, Spanish, and Chinese) is quite limited. This raises a key question: are the methods and indicators most commonly used in the monitoring and evaluation of ICT in education initiatives biased in any key ways that will work against the narrowing of gaps and towards the growth of equity in ICT for education? Put another way: would the availability of equity-sensitive M&E indicators work towards promoting greater inclusion of ICTs with populations within the MDGs? Considering one example in India Consider, for example, the Bridges to the Future Initiative project undertaken in India. In this project, a specific focus was on how to reach the most challenging poor populations, but within fiscal constraints that meant that an ICT infrastructure had to pre-exist in order to reduce expenditures. Within this important constraint, the project had to determine the best way to achieve the UN’s MDG education goals, and measure the impact of multimedia instructional material on youth and young adults (see Box 1). Many projects in the ICT sector claim to be “bridging” the digital divide. But what divide are they bridging? Is it between the rural and urban? Between boys/men and girls/women? Between the well-off and the less well-off? In much of the available research on ICT4E, we have relatively little idea of the demographics surrounding equity and poverty issues. We may be helping the “moderately poor,” but are we doing so at the expense of other poor people? While investment in a given ICT4E project may be effective and desirable for its target groups, to what extent does agency investment satisfy the priority in the MDGs to reach the most disadvantaged? If a student is in high school in a poor LDC, he or she is likely to already be in the top 10–20 percent of the socioeconomic structure. Will helping this individual (no doubt a useful goal in and of itself) lead to greater equity in the country concerned? Are these investments really pro-poor?

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Box 1 India: Focus on ICT and the poor in the Bridges to the Future Initiative The Bridges to the Future Initiative (BFI) in India has provided multimedia, local language resources for literacy and vocational training for out-of-school youth and adults – about 50 percent of the population in poor parts of India that had no access to and/or did not complete quality primary or secondary schooling. A key aspect of the BFI is that it seeks to address directly the needs of the poorest sectors of the populations in developing countries with the best of user-friendly ICTbased instructional tools. According to UN statistics, there are more illiterates in India (270 million) than in any other country. With a 35 percent adult illiteracy rate, economic and social development for all is highly constrained. While great strides in Indian education have been made, it is now clear that many schools are able to offer only inadequate quality of instruction, leading to a primary school drop-out rate of between 35 and 50 percent across the poorest states of India, including in Andhra Pradesh state where the BFI has been operating since 2003. Thus, the main target is the tens of millions of disadvantaged youth (age nine to twenty years) who are at risk of never getting a good job, performing poorly in trades that are education-dependent (especially those that change with the knowledge economy), and suffering a variety of health consequences due to poor education and income. Many of these youth (especially girls and young women) have had some schooling, but often too poor in quality for these individuals to achieve a functional literacy ability. The BFI model is designed to take advantage of already-existing ICT infrastructure, largely in secondary schools, and to create content which such out-of-school youth can access. The instructional model builds on the oral competence of the learners in their mother tongue, Telugu, the majority language in the state. As part of the BFI, a major impact assessment – a longitudinal study – has been undertaken to follow BFI out-of-school youth, and other youth in control groups, to measure skills and knowledge acquisition. Over 200 youth (age ten to twenty years; about 60 percent girls) have participated in the BFI program study. Analyses indicate that the participating youth are learning literacy skills at an accelerated pace relative to youth in programs without ICT inputs, and they also show greatly enhanced motivation and retention. Further, results suggest that those youth with least schooling – especially girls – show the most gain in performance, and many of these have left the BFI program to return to complete their primary schooling. (Adapted from Wagner and Daswani 2006)

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Gender Since the introduction of personal computers in developed countries in the early 1980s, conventional wisdom has been that introducing ICTs in schools would favor males over females. Yet, as we have seen in numerous examples across the world, there are many cases where girl’s and women’s motivation and learning in ICT for education programs is equal to or greater than that of boys and men. The root causes of the initial “digital gender divide” (conscious or unconscious) against females have been generally perceived by policy makers to relate to issues such as lack of a safe place of access, limited literacy, and little in the way of useful economic outcomes. Another interpretation, of course, is that men’s access to economic resources in the external (outside of home) environment simply put males in greater proximity to technology access. We are unlikely to know the definitive set of causes, but we do know the results. In most countries today, especially outside of the OECD, women’s access to ICTs inside an educational system lags significantly behind that of men’s (see Table 22.1). As with most areas in development, such gender biases are clearly counterproductive for many social consequences. In the area of ICT for development, we now have numerous examples of women (and girls) being at the forefront of the social and economic uses of new ICTs. In one of the best-known examples, the Grameen Bank in Bangladesh used microcredit loans for women, even the poor and illiterate, for the creation of small mobile phone businesses. The results were dramatic – not only were the women more reliable then men in paying back the loans, but they also made use of their local social networks to run highly successful enterprises even in poor rural areas (Richardson et al. 2000). There are many such examples today demonstrating that women in developing countries recognize the empowering dimensions and economic returns of ICTs (for reviews, see Batchelor et al. 2003; Hafkin and Taggart 2001; Huyer and Sikoska 2003). When considering gender within the M&E area, it is increasingly the case that gender is a variable of interest. Today, gender is increasingly taken into account by program implementers, and the importance of gender in development processes overall now assures, more than ever before, that ICT programs will be sensitive to female participation (KM International 2003; Maclay et al. 2005; Morrell and Huyer 2006). Box 2 provides some examples of the way in which development agencies have tried to improve gender-sensitive approaches to ICT4E.

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Women as % of Internet users, 2000

51.1 51.0 51.0 43.0 42.0 42.0 38.0 38.0 37.5 31.5 30.4 23.0 18.7 17.5 13.9 12.0 12.0 12.0 10.0 6.0 n/a n/a

Country

US Philippines South Africa Brazil Croatia Mexico Estonia Russian Fed. Zambia Uganda China India Poland Belarus Ethiopia Slovakia Czech Republic Senegal Lithuania Jordan Colombia (3) Peru

83.479 76.5 645.6 1,075 63.0 567.0 57.0 4,560 1.13 4.73 6,840 115.0 295.6 14.0 0.83 60.0 48.0 0.90 7.0 3.7 n/a n/a

Total women Internet users in ’000s 170,280,364 150 1,266 2,500 150.0 1,350 150.0 12,000 3.0 15.0 22,500 500.0 1,581 80.0 6.0 500.0 400.0 7.5 70.0 60.8 350.0 200.0

Total no. Internet users in ’000s 60.0 0.6 4.2 2.1 4.3 2.5 14.1 1.8 0.2 0.1 0.7 0.2 5.4 0.1 0.1 13.0 6.8 0.3 2.9 1.8 0.0 1.5

283.800 77,726 42,835 169,807 4.672 98,553 1,421 146,861 9,461 22,167 1,265,560 983,377 38,607 6,667 58.390 5.393 10,286 9,723 3,600 4,435 38,581 26,111

53.1 65.1 46.7 63.3 n/a 45.2 66.8 n/a 31.9 n/a 45.1 20.5 61.2 38.4 n/a 59.7 54.1 n/a 67.5 n/a 45.6 39.4

Internet Female proof. users as % and tech. of total Population workers % population in ’000s of total

Table 22.1. Women’s Internet use in selected developing countries and the United States

99.0 94.3 83.2 83.9 96.4 87.9 99.0 98.8 67.5 35.0 74.5 39.4 99.0 98.5 29.2 99.0 99.0 24.8 99.0 81.8 90.8 83.7

23.540 2510 4637 3813 3557 4594 4236 3503 753 944 2485 902 5061 3909 349 6366 7952 1253 3323 1429 4725 2335

Female GDP per Female capita literacy rate (US$)

3 65 84 67 50 48 49 61 125 131 79 112 40 54 172 39 34 127 55 n/a 51 71

GDI rank 1/174

374

n/a n/a n/a n/a n/a

Country

Turkey Thailand Indonesia Pakistan Viceram

n/a n/a n/a n/a n/a

Total women Internet users in ’000s

(Adapted from KM International 2003.)

Women as % of Internet users, 2000

Table 22.1. (cont.)

450.0 200.0 300.0 61.9 10.0

Total no. Internet users in ’000s 2.3 1.3 0.2 0.1 0.1

64,567 60,037 212,942 135,135 76,236

33 54.5 40.8 21.0 27.6

Internet Female proof. users as % and tech. of total Population workers % population in ’000s of total 73.9 92.8 79.5 25.4 89.0

4681 5000 2359 701 1385

Female GDP per Female capita literacy rate (US$)

73 58 88 116 91

GDI rank 1/174

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Box 2 Strategies for improved participation of girls and women in ICT4E      

Provision of scholarships Culturally appropriate facilities Female teachers Alternative schools with flexible schedules Vocational training Presentation of a gender-neutral or gender-inclusive image of scientists and the practice of science  Emphasis on hands-on activities and applications to everyday life, society, and the environment  Introduction of female role models and mentors  Conscious effort by teachers to treat girls and boys as equals in the classroom (Adapted from World Bank 2003)

Marginalized populations The most disadvantaged groups around the world tend to be those “on the margin” – that is, on the socio-economic and cultural-linguistic periphery of a national population. Beyond issues of gender and age (which also can be marginalizing), such disadvantaged populations usually exhibit one or more of the following characteristics: 1.. They belong to an indigenous people or special caste or race that has lived within a pattern of historical social and/or economic discrimination. 2.. They speak a language (or dialect) other than a major (and/or dominant) regional or national (or international) language. 3.. They have a history of little/poor or no education, and are likely to be illiterate or barely literate. 4.. They reside in, or migrate from, an historically deprived (usually rural) geographical region. Being a member of a marginalized – and usually an ethno-linguistic minority group – often has a broad set of deleterious social and economic consequences. In ICT4E projects, such factors must be taken into account directly, much as has been the case with gender discrimination. As yet, however, most technology projects have, for a number of (often political) reasons, chosen to focus on “majority” digital divide issues,

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rather than “minority” or marginalized group issues. As with gender, monitoring and evaluation research can play an important role in focusing attention on problems of discrimination, as well as providing a better targeting of implementation processes. Language also plays a special role in today’s digital age. One reason for this is that the Internet itself is not language neutral. Recent research shows that English is more present on the World Wide Web (approximately 32 percent in 2006) than any other language, and is approximately at parity with the next nine most prominent languages combined. Interestingly, the dominance of English has dropped somewhat from an even greater dominance some years earlier (65 percent in mid-2001) (Langer 2001). No other language seems to rival the English total in breadth and depth of Internet language content. And, even though Chinese (at 13 percent of the world total) is rapidly growing, the role of English as a preferred global second language of communication will almost certainly guarantee its global dominance for years to come. Of course, there are major changes taking place on the Internet today, and there is serious disagreement as to the availability and use of digital information. There are more languages in use every year, and more languages in frequent use below the top ten. Nonetheless, most research, as of 2007, shows that the top ten languages (see Internet World Stats 2007) dominate 80 percent of Internet use today, leaving those who have not mastered one of these languages as a first or second language on the margins of global information. While similar data are not available for language-based instructional software production, a substantial dominance is likely to be found for English today, at the expense of other international languages, and major regional languages (e.g., Hindi, Swahili). Further, local minority/ indigenous languages (e.g., Telugu in India, with fifty million speakers; or Mayan in Mexico with several million speakers) receive relatively little digital attention at all. It should also be noted that most of the monolingual speakers of indigenous languages are female, which adds an additional burden on the obstacles that (especially monolingual) women face in ICT for education projects. Illiteracy and low-literacy, when combined with ethno-linguistic status, are further marginalizing factors. UNESCO (2000) has estimated that there are nearly 862 million illiterates in the world aged fifteen and above. One could estimate that at least 80–90 percent of this illiterate population is from the types of marginalized groups detailed above. Of this total population, we know that nearly 60 percent is comprised of women, most of whom are from the poorest countries or regions in the world. Overall, developing countries increased literacy rates by 6.6

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percent between 1990 and 2000. However, such increases in official literacy rates often do not keep pace with population growth (especially in South Asia and Sub-Saharan Africa), with the actual number of illiterate citizens having increased during the same period of time. As a consequence, illiteracy and low-literacy are fairly direct indicators of those who are marginalized in each society; furthermore such skills are central to ICT4E success due to their role in serving as a base for technological skill proficiency. Toward a pro-poor use of monitoring and evaluation Many of the current ICT4E efforts, even if deemed to have been successful in terms of overall impact, have not included a sufficiently propoor orientation. This is obvious from a variety of perspectives. Earlier, we asked, rhetorically, “Whose divide is really being bridged?” But, we may also simply observe the following: the vast majority of software/web content (mainly in major languages such as English, Chinese, French, and Spanish) is of little use to the many millions of marginalized people for reasons of literacy, language, or culture. Of course, the private sector produces, in large part, for the most lucrative market – with clear (and often negative) consequences for the poor in most circumstances. The incentives for the private sector are almost always aimed at those populations most “able to pay.” Yet, it is increasingly clear that user-friendly (often multilingual) ICT-based products can satisfy the needs of the poor to a much greater extent than heretofore believed (see Box 1, also Wagner and Kozma 2005). Providing such tools and developing the human resources capacity to support the local development and distribution of relevant content is one important way to help initiate a positive spiral of sustainable development. Indeed, if the private sector can learn to market to the poor (much as soap manufacturers discovered that smaller soap bars can be sold to a much larger segment of the poor in India), then real markets may be found that support pro-equity investment approaches. How can M&E help this situation? A pro-poor approach to M&E can accomplish two goals: First, M&E specialists should engage in data collection with transparency as to who comprises the target population, and where this population fits into the national fabric and policy of poverty reduction. For example, what is the demographic breakdown of the intervention sample by gender, language, ethnicity, age, location, and income relative to the rest of the national population? While typical M&E can capture some of the same diversity in the population, the usual central tendency is towards the average individual in a country, usually

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Box 3 Colombia: The Bosa Telecenter Bosa (a locality in Colombia) has a telecenter located in a lower class neighborhood where the majority of people are basic workers or unemployed. It is housed in Kerigma, a community cultural center, a community meeting space for different groups and organizations. Most of the women active in women’s groups or organizations in the Bosa neighborhood are housewives who have their children and housekeeping as their main interests and activities. A series of workshops was held in 2003, the results of which, as identified by the participants, are described below:  Using a computer invokes strong feelings. Curiosity, fear of technology and the unknown, uneasiness, fear of breaking things, making mistakes, being mocked are only a few of the difficulties faced by people who have not used a computer or do not know much about it. Women also think that computers are something fascinating, a new world where they do not belong.  There is a lot of discrimination against women in this field. Society seems to give little importance to women’s needs in the field of computer technology.  Women feel their own children look down on them because they don’t know how to use a computer. They also feel bad because they cannot help their children with their homework because they know nothing about computer studies. “We don’t want to be called donkeys,” one of them said.  Women have to work towards equal opportunities. We don’t want to copy men’s ways, and instead show that there can be other ways that show respect for each other’s rights. (Adapted from Bonilla and Cliche 2004)

leading to an under-sampling of (and less of an understanding of) the most disadvantaged poor populations. Second, pro-poor M&E activities will provide greater detail for policy formation and program implementation that can affect the most disadvantaged. For example, in the BFI-India project (Box 1), evaluation results are prepared in a manner that allows expansion of the program to additional marginalized groups (by caste, location, and other language groups). It is also important to keep in mind the fundamental reality that effective programs have not always been able to deploy rigorous M&E

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methodologies. That is, while we would consistently advocate for M&E in all ICT4E programs, there are some projects, even with only anecdotal and subjective observations, that should be given further consideration for funding. One example may be seen in a women’s ICT-based program in Colombia (Box 3). Here, we see the power of individual women who describe their own situation. Household surveys and the like cannot provide much additional value to what a group of motivated and reflective participants contributed in a set of workshops. Of course, simply becoming aware of the key issues as described in the Colombia example is not the same as knowing whether these issues have been effectively addressed from an evidence-based perspective. The point here is that rigorous M&E should be our target for improving the knowledge base in ICT4E, but we should not ignore innovation and motivation that are often at the heart of programs that work effectively. Conclusions Pro-poor interventions in human development are increasingly a part of the search to reduce social and economic inequities around the world. ICT4E initiatives are no exception, especially as the need grows to reduce disparities globally. In recent years, some have thought that a new digital divide will increase the gap between the rich and poor, and this may well be taking place in today’s world. For tomorrow’s world, however, we will need to apply the best of the M&E approaches advocated here. With a focus on best practices in M&E – and a pro-poor approach in particular – ICT4E can provide new ways to empower disadvantaged groups over the decades to come. In the spirit of Professor Ka
gıtc¸ ıba¸sı, we might well ask about the importance of this argument for cross-cultural human development. I believe it means that there is a sensitive balance that needs to be sought between research and practice. It is not enough to merely “prove” a result is meaningful to an appropriate level of statistical reliability. Nor is it sufficient for a single observer to say that he or she can “testify” that a particular result implies a much broader conclusion. Nor should we be content with a micro-focus on practice that cannot be conceivably replicated in a broader setting. In sum, the cross-cultural research–policy– practice nexus today implies a nuanced juxtaposition of concept, method, and data-gathering that allows important innovations to go forward in “real time,” while at the same time preserving a sciencedriven record (i.e., M&E), sensitive to particular target populations – all of which is in the service of strong and empirically sound future investments in human development.

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references S. Batchelor, S. Evangelista, S. Hearn, M. Peirce, S. Sugden, and M. Webb, ICT for Development Contributing to the Millennium Development Goals: Lessons Learned from Seventeen InfoDev Projects, Information for Development Program Report, World Bank (www.infodev.org/files/835_file_Case_Studies. pdf ), 2003. M. Bonilla and G. Cliche (eds.), Internet and Society in Latin America and the Caribbean (Ottawa, Canada: International Development Research Centre, 2004). N. Hafkin and N. Taggart, Gender, Information Technology, and Developing Countries: An Analytic Study (Washington, DC: Academy for Educational Development, 2001). S. Huyer and T. Sikoska, Overcoming the Gender Digital Divide Understanding ICTs and their Potential for the Empowerment of Women, INSTRAW Occasional Paper No. 2, 2003. Internet World Stats, Usage and Population Statistics (www.internetworldstats. com/stats7.htm), 2007. KM International, Engendering ICT: Ensuring Gender Equality in ICT for Development (Washington, DC: World Bank, 2003). S. Langer, “Natural languages on the World Wide Web,” Bulletin de Linguistique Appliquee et Generale, Revue annuelle, (2001), 89–100. (www.cis.unimuenchen.de/people/langer/veroeffentlichungen/bulag.pdf ). C. M. Maclay, R. Hawkins, and G. S. Kirkman, Global Networked Readiness for Education: Preliminary Findings from a Pilot Project to Evaluate the Impact of Computers and the Internet on Learning in Eleven Developing Countries (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University, Berkman Center, 2005). C. Morrell and S. Huyer, “Overview,” presented at the Conference on Re-Engineering Development: Engendering ICTs, UNESCO, Paris, France, November 12–14, 2006 (www.wigsat.org/taskforce/TaskforceDocs.html). D. Richardson, R. Ramirez, and M. Haq, Grameen Telecom’s Village Phone Programme: A Multi-Media Case Study (Ottawa: TeleCommons Development Group, Government of Canada, 2000). United Nations Education, Scientific and Cultural Organization, The Dakar Framework for Action (Paris: UNESCO, 2000). D. A. Wagner, “Pro-equity approaches to monitoring and evaluation: Gender, marginalized groups and special needs populations,” in D. A. Wagner (ed.), Monitoring and Evaluation of ICT in Education Projects: A Handbook for Developing Countries (Washington, DC: World Bank/InfoDev, 2005). D. A. Wagner and C. J. Daswani, Impact of ICT on Learning in Out-of-school Youth in Andhra Pradesh (India): Preliminary Results, technical report (Philadelphia, PA: International Literacy Institute, University of Pennsylvania, 2006). D. A. Wagner and R. Kozma, New Technologies for Literacy and Adult Education: A Global Perspective (Paris: UNESCO, 2005), available in English, French, and Arabic. World Bank, ICT and MDGs: A World Bank Group Perspective (Washington, DC: World Bank Group, 2003). World Bank, Monitoring and Evaluation: Some Tools, Methods and Approaches (Washington, DC: World Bank Group, 2004).

Epilogue T. S. Saraswathi

It was in summer 1981. The setting, a NATO seminar on Human Assesment and Cultural Factors held at Queen’s University, Kingston, Canada (Irvine and Berry 1983). The International Research Centre, Canada (IDRC) had supported my visit to spend a few weeks in John Berry’s department at Queen’s. Ci
¸ gdem Ka
gıtc¸ ıba¸sı was presenting the findings of the first round of the Value of Children study (Ka
gıtc¸ ıba¸sı 1983). One of the representatives from IDRC (maybe Kenneth King) sitting beside me commented: “Learn more about her project on early intervention (then funded by IDRC). They are bound to go a long way and make a mark!” So prophetic were those words. Then followed the 1986 congress of the IACCP organized by Bo
gazic¸ i University, _ Istanbul, Turkey, by Ci
¸ gdem. That conference has been rated as one of the best IACCP congresses to date, in terms of both the scientific sessions and the fantastic experience of cultural immersion planned and executed with great precision. Today Ci
¸ gdem’s lifetime achievements through contributions to theory, research, and intervention programs, in the areas of human development and family studies, speak for themselves. At times I have fantasized that if we could only clone several Ci
¸ gdems, one for each country in the majority world, crosscultural psychology would be richer, with non-western contributions serving to counterbalance the dominance of the western world that we lament so much. The contributions to this volume from authors across the globe attest to the impact that Ci
¸ gdem has had in psychology in general and cross-cultural psychology in particular. Few non-western psychologists stand on par.

The present epilogue is written from the perspective of a consumer of knowledge, be it as a teacher or as a consultant for program planning, policy development, or evaluation. In my work, I draw from the knowledge base painstakingly constructed by others. Hence if my musings as a down-to-earth philosopher exhibit the na€ıvette and indiscretion of the child who saw the emperor naked, I beg I be pardoned for the same.

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Many milestones of development Cross-cultural psychology, as an area of study with a distict identity, has crossed many milestones and can be described as having entered “emerging adulthood” within a short span of about forty plus years. The modus operandi of “safari research” has yielded place to predominently crosscultural or cultural work in the real sense of the word (Segall et al. 1999). A large database has accumulated on a substantial number of topics, as reflected in the present and other companion volumes and handbooks. The empirical information available is noteworthy, though primarily at the descriptive level. Marvellous theories have been constructed and reconstructed. And, most significantly, the western bias has been recognized and confronted squarely, though not conquered entirely. A special note must be made here of the impressive contributions to this volume by Turkish scholars, spanning theory construction, theory testing, empirical studies, and intervention. Contributions from the West and by western scholars do continue to dominate the scene. Viewed from the perspective of individual contributors over their lifetime, the progress has indeed been impressive, particularly so for a discipline that is only less than half a century old in its recent “avatar” (incarnation). Going beyond theory construction and data assembly The goals in the pursuit of any science, including the developmental sciences, have been articulated as: to understand, describe, predict, and control. Some of the authors in this volume (Berry, Poortinga, and Wagner) and others were participants of a cross-cultural psychologists’ Round Table organized by the World Health Organization (Berry et al. 1988). The authors describe the challenges posed by the questions asked and their struggle to answer, especially, the question regarding knowledge in cross-cultural psychology that can be applied directly in the field. As reported by the participants, who were drawn from a pool of key cross-cultural psychologists at that time, they were asked to prepare a tabular presentation of the knowledge base available in the area, rating them on the following basis: 1..Contribution to general knowledge without specific possibility of application. 2..Conducive to being “translated” into behavioral or other interventions. 3..Knowledge that is already applicable. As stated by the participants (ibid.: 298–99), most of them found it to be a mind-stretching exercise, even an impossible enterprise. Hardly any

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facts were deemed as directly applicable. Twenty years later, we continue to struggle in our search for knowledge that is directly applicable. It is in this context that the last section in this volume on programmed interventions holds great appeal. It provides exemplers of actual ongoing intervention programs, argues cogently for the need for a theoretical rationale to guide programs, and a methodological caveat for monitoring and evaluation. Yet, even these impressive contributions make clear that we have hardly scratched the surface and have a long way to go before we can provide confident guidelines for optimal human development. To quote a Tamil proverb, “katradu kai alavu, kallalathdu kadal alavu” [what we know fills the palm of my hand, what we do not, fills an ocean]. Unless the applied dimension of our discipline is strengthened, the role of psychologists, especially in developing countries, will continue to be viewed with skepticism. Even today, in program and policy planning for human intervention, the economists and sociologists (and at times anthropologists) are in greater demand for their expert input than are psychologists. During the 1980s, as part of our curriculum revision exercise at the Department of Human Development and Family Studies in The M.S. University of Baroda, in India, we interviewed forty employers who were conducting large-scale community development programs. We sought their preference for the kind of social science graduates they like to employ. They consistently preferred social work graduates rather than psychology and child development graduates and when probed responded that psychology graduates were fine with theory and research, but when it came to working with real people in the real world social workers were more culture sensitive and ready to rough it out in the field. That impression continues (Saraswathi et al. 1988). This is not to argue that psychologists have no role in applied human development. As clearly evinced in many of the chapters in this volume (Cole, Poortinga, Wagner, G€ ulg€ oz, and Baydar), psychologists can and need to provide their valuable inputs in informed and theory guided intervention programs, monitored and evaluated systematically to ascertain that the said programs do indeed make a difference in improving the quality of life in the concerned dimension. Social workers, on the other hand, serve as excellent partners in implementing at the field level. The limitations of our discipline as noted above, in contributing to interventions that improve the quality of life and human wellbeing, especially in resource poor countries, refers to the application component. In comparison, we have made tremendous progress in theory construction and development of methodology (see the three-volume Handbook of Cross-cultural Psychology, edited by Berry et al. [1997a,

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1997b, 1997c] and the Handbook of Cross-cultural Development by Munroe et al. [1981]). Yet, we seem to have the tendency to get stuck in conceptual quagmires and methodological mind-mines that hold back our progress. These are further constrained by our curious tendency to be selective in the use of contributions from other schools of thought, as apparent in selective citations ignoring even key publications in journals of high repute. The progress from WHAT (description) to HOW and WHY seems painfully slow. The ultimate challenge for cross cultural developmental psychologists in particular is “to unveil general developmental principles at work in different cultures . . . rather than the much simpler demonstration that developmental trajectories vary from one cultural context to another” (Gielen 2004: 5). The paradox in the pace of development in cross-cultural psychology makes me imagine biologists/immunologists painstakingly studying a select bacteria or virus but, by the time they have deciphered the mystery, hundreds of new bacteria have evolved and even the ones that were studied have mutated. In cross-cultural psychology, by the time we have teased out some of the mystery of selected culture–behavior relations, cuture itself metamorphosizes to bring new meanings into the relations. Another malaise is the tendency to capture complexity in dichotomous and trichotomous classifications (see Hermans and Kempen’s [1998] discussions on the perilous problems of cultural dichotomies) that get reified over time and resist revision. While the classification of prototypes undoubtedly serves a heuristic function during the early stages of problem analysis, in the course of time it takes on a life of its own and over-simplifies constructs and their relations, masking the complexity of the real world. This is particularly worrysome when the variation within cultures exceeds the between-cultures variation. Related concerns are the issues of level of analysis (individual or cultural) and the continued conflict over quantitative versus qualitative data, though these have been addressed systematically in recent years. The arguments related to the issue of national level and individual level analyses are succinctly summarized in Smith’s (2004) introduction to the five articles related to levels of analyses in the Journal of CrossCultural Psychology. His principal argument is “national level studies have a crucial and growing role to play in explaining variations in the findings of individual level studies conducted in different locations” ( p. 6). This would indeed serve to tease out the prevailing contradictions in many cross-cultural findings. We should perhaps start considering multiple levels of analyses, as there are a range of intermediate variables between the distal nation level and those proximal to individual behavior.

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The other major methodological issue concerns the use of qualitative and quantitative methods. Even though cross-cultural psychology has recognized the importance of employing ethnographic and observation methods of study prior to the development of culture-appropriate psychological instruments (Berry et al. 2002), few studies actually employ these systematically. A detailed analysis of the meta-methodological aspects that highlight the complementarity of the qualitative and quantitative approaches to the study of culture is presented by Greenfield (1997). As stated forcefully by Valsiner and Connolly (2003: xv), newer formal models coming into developmental science from dynamic systems theory . . . are rendering such opposition between the quantitative and qualitative perspectives obsolete. The basic knowing about the world is textured – or structural – hence qualitative. Quantification is but a technical operation used for gaining new qualitative knowledge. It guarantees no objectivity: a science that practices unreflexive averaging of data is not much different from the fortune teller reading palms.

I will arrest my distress call with one last point, namely, the continued dominance of the western world view. Apart from the legacy of the historical past, the western world view continues, and will continue, to dominate for several reasons. By virtue of the nature of the western world’s university system, with its emphasis on research and access to sustained resources, contributions by western psychologists in their own and other cultures will far exceed those from the majority world. Scholars from most non-western societies who work amidst many odds – living down the western model of training, heavy teaching and administrative duties, limited and uncertain access to resources, and above all, the absence of a clear culturally-appropriate vision regarding their possible contributions – will continue to remain unequal partners in this enterprise of knowledge construction.

Questions in the real world that cry out for answers Several questions in the real world cry out for answers that should be addressed by cross-cultural psychologists. Yet, we side-step them or address them only in a tangential manner as the problems seem too complex to grasp. I will list a few questions below as exemplars:  Why is there so much hatred in the world?  Can we curb collective violence often sanctioned by authority?  Why do responses to natural calamities range from the poignantly altruistic to the disgustingly callous? (Poverty is no answer.)

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 Can we capture the complexity of the issues of militancy, terrorism, and sex tourism and come up with possible solutions for a better world?  How do we account for the resurgence of religious fundamentalism in many parts of the world and the recurrence of ethnic violence in historically multicultural societies?  How can we tap the strength of faith that moves millions to religion and harness that as a resource for betterment of mankind?  How do we separate the “processes of ethnic differentiation [that] are paralleled by equally potent processes of economic globalization and cultural globalization” (Shore 1996: 9)? The questions are endless; the answers hard to find. Reasons for hope Let me now wear my hat of optimism and focus on the silver lining behind the somewhat grey clouds painted in the previous pages. There are indeed many good reasons to expect a promising development toward a robust cross-cultural psychology in the coming decades. Firstly, a lot of the spade-work has already been done, both in theory construction and research. Existing theories have been modified to accomodate cultural variations and new conceptual frameworks have evolved originating from cross-cultural psychology. These, along with the socio-cultural theories, provide an adequate base for theory testing. Lonner (present volume) provides a succinct review of the major theoretical contributions in the field. On the meta-theoretical front, the major controversy between cross-cultural and cultural psychology continues to prevail, often providing stimulating food for thought. While some cross-cultural and cultural psychologists view the integration of the two approaches as both feasible and desirable (Miller 1997; Saraswathi 1998), others remain wary regarding the possibility of convergence (Poortinga 1997; Valsiner 2007). The major difference in perspective relates to the positivistic paradigm followed by cross-cultural psychology that treats culture as an independent variable acting upon, influencing, and shaping individuals born into a given culture. By definition, it is a comparative science, with its assumptions regarding relative homogeneity, stability, and change. Cultural psychology (which itself encompasses several specialized orientations within a broad theoretical framework), on the other hand, is more interpretative in its paradigm and views culture as present in the intentional world of the individual (Shweder 1990), and as also in the process of participation in cultural activities (Cole 1996; Rogoff 1990, 2003). The essential idea here is that culture cannot be viewed as an independent variable, as culture

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and individuals constitute each other (Cole 1996; Valsiner 2007). The differences in theoretical orientations are also reflected in the metamethodological orientations, with differential emphases on qualitative and quantitative methods. The reader may peruse the references cited herein to gain an in-depth appreciation of this major theoretical controversy and its implications for the future development of the field of culture and psychology. Attempts to bridge the great qualitative– quantitative divide and the adoption of an interdisciplinary approach in graduate training and research can serve to reinforce the unique contributions of both cross-cultural and cultural psychology. The last is particularly important for addressing what Bruner (1996) terms a stunting factor in the development of the disciplines: “The historical separation of anthropology and psychology . . . must surely be counted as one of the most stunting developments in the history of human sciences” ( p. xiii). Secondly, there is an increasing awareness of the western bias in the discipline and conscious attempts to confront and handle the same. Improved and more egalitarian collaborations prevail between researchers from the two worlds than they once did. Yet, the West will continue to dominate the scene as long as the resource imbalance prevails. The one who has the gold calls the price! Murphy’s law! Thirdly, in recent years cross-cultural psychologists have begun addressing the issues of demographic shifts, national wealth, and other eco-social factors as being closely related to many psychological indicators often treated as resulting from cultural differences (see, for example, Allen et al. 2007; Diener and Oishi 2000; Fussell and Green 2002; Gielen and Chumachenko 2004). Gielen (2004) provides a telling example of the contrasts in the lives of two children growing up, one in Ladakh in the Himalayan region, and the other in Germany, to call attention to the challenge of identifying and deciphering psychic universality amidst stark differences in demographic, economic, ecological, and sociocultural contexts. Fourthly, indigenous contributions, either reactionary in nature (e.g., Nsamenang 1992; Serpell 1993), or as part of the joint scientific endeavor (e.g., Gabrenya et al. 2006; Sinha 1997; Zebian et al. 2007), show that a critical mass of psychologists from the majority world have not sold their souls to the West and this brings a breath of fresh air. As mentioned in Adair’s chapter in the present volume and in other publications such as Gielen (2004), there has been a gradual and significant increase in publications from non-western cultures in reputed international journals, edited books, and handbooks, and also greater visibility in international forums, than was the case in the past. It is indeed heartening to see the presence of authors from non-western countries, be it in small

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numbers, in Gielen’s listing of the milestones in the form of published volumes in the history of cross-cultural psychology from 1900 (ibid.). However, I can speak from personal experience and that of my colleagues in India, Africa, Latin America, other countries in south and southeast Asia, as well as the Far East (excepting Japan), that heavy teaching loads leave little time for research, and problems in obtaining funds for research, writing, and travel will continue to impede adequate participation. Yet a gold mine exists that researchers from the majority world have failed to tap into (a prominent exception being Ci
¸ gdem). This is embedded in intervention programs that would enable one to understand the dynamics of culture in action. Successful, large-scale intervention programs, currently being implemented primarily by non-psychologists, hold answers to the key questions of the what, why, and how of culture and human behavior. Did not some renowned psychologist say, “If you wish to understand something, change it?” Psychologists in the majority world can then establish their relevance among social sciences in their own country and also become greater contributing members in crosscultural psychology. Let me end with a positive quote from the work of three pioneers in the field of cross-cultural psychology, two of whom have contributed to the present volume, as they state eloquently what the field has achieved so far and where it ultimately hopes to reach: “Cross-cultural psychology has grown from a whisper and a hope circa 1960 into a large and thriving intellectual exercise circa 2000” (Segall et al. 1998: 1108). Yet the ultimate success of cross-cultural psychology will be judged by the paradox that it should cease to exist when all psychology becomes culture-inclusive, as then there will be no need to view cultural psychology as separate from the rest of psychology. Culture will become an integral part, then, of all branches of psychology, expanding its horizons and enriching its scope. references M. W. Allen, S. H. Ng, K. Ikedo, J. A. Jawan, A. H. Sufi, M. Wilson, and K. Yang, “Two decades of change in cultural values and economic development in eight east Asian and Pacific Island nations,” Journal of Cross-Cultural Psychology, 38 (2007), 247–69. J. W. Berry, P. R. Dasen, and T. S. Saraswathi (eds.), Handbook of Cross-cultural Psychology. Volume 2. Basic Processes and Human Development, Second edition (Needham Heights, MA: Allyn & Bacon, 1997a).

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J. W. Berry, P. R. Dasen, and N. Sartorius, “Conclusions,” in P. R. Dasen, J. W. Berry, and N. Sartorius (eds.), Health and Cross-cultural Psychology: Towards Applications (Newbury Park, CA: Sage, 1988). J. W. Berry, Y. Poortinga, and J. Pandey (eds.), Handbook of Cross-cultural Psychology. Volume 11. Theory and Method, Second edition (Needham Heights, MA: Allyn & Bacon, 1997b). J. W. Berry, Y. Poortinga, M. H. Segall, and P. R. Dasen, Cross-cultural Psychology: Research and Applications, Second edition (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2002). J. W. Berry, M. H. Segall, and C. ¸ Ka
gıtc¸ ıba¸sı, (eds.), Handbook of Cross-cultural Psychology. Volume 3. Social Behavior and Applications, Second edition (Needham Heights, MA: Allyn & Bacon, 1997c). J. Bruner, “Foreword,” in B. Shore (ed.), Culture in Mind (New York/Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1996). M. Cole, Cultural Psychology: A Once and Future Discipline (Cambridge, MA: Belknap Press, 1996). E. Diener and S. Oishi, “Money and happiness: Income and subjective wellbeing across nations,” in E. Diener and E. M. Suh (eds.), Culture and Subjective Well-being (Cambridge, MA: MIT Press, 2000), pp. 185–218. E. Fussell and M. E. Green, “Demographic trends affecting youth around the world,” in B. Brown, R. Larson, and T. S. Saraswathi (eds.), The World’s Youth: Adolescence in Eight Regions of the Globe (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2002), pp. 21–60. W. K. Gabrenya Jr., M.-C. Kung, and L.-Y. Chen, “Understanding the Taiwan indigenous psychology movement: A sociology of science approach,” Journal of Cross-Cultural Psychology, 37 (2006), 597–622. U. P. Gielen, “The cross-cultural study of human development: An opinionated historical introduction,” in U. P. Gielen and J. Roopnarine (eds.), Childhood and Adolescence: Cross-cultural Perspectives and Applications (Westport, CT: Praeger, 2004), pp. 3–45. U. P. Gielen and O. Chumachenko, “All the world’s children: The importance of global demographic trends and economic disparities,” in U. P. Gielen and J. Roopnarine (ed.), Childhood and Adolescence: Cross-cultural Perspectives and Applications (Westport, CT: Praeger, 2004), pp. 81–109. P. Greenfield, “Culture as process: Empirical methods for cultural psychology,” in J. W. Berry, Y. H. Poortinga, and J. Pandey (eds.), Handbook of Crosscultural Psychology. Volume 1. Theory and Method, Second edition (Needham Heights, MA: Allyn & Bacon, 1997), pp. 301–46. H. J. M. Hermans and H. J. G. Kempen, “Moving cultures: The perilious problems of cultural dichotomies in a globalizing society,” American Psychologist, 53 (1998), 1111–20. S. H. Irvine and J. W. Berry (eds.), Human Assessment and Cultural Factors (New York: Plenum Press, 1983). C. ¸ Ka
gıtc¸ ıba¸sı, “Assessment of values and attitudes in the study of fertility: Problems and prospects,” in S. H. Irvine and J. W. Berry (eds.), Human Assessment and Cultural Factors (New York: Plenum Press, 1983), pp. 481–93.

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J. G. Miller, “Theoretical issues in cultural psychology,” in J. W. Berry, Y. H. Poortinga, and J. Pandey (eds.), Handbook of Cross-cultural Psychology. Volume 1. Theory and Method, Second edition (Needham Heights, MA: Allyn & Bacon, 1997), pp. 85–128. R. H. Munroe, R. L. Munroe, and B. B. Whiting, Handbook of Cross-cultural Human Development (New York: Garland, 1981). B. Nsamenang, B. 1992. Human Development in Cultural Context. Beverly Hills, CA: Sage. Y. H. Poortinga, “Towards convergence?,” in J. W. Berry, Y. H. Poortinga, and J. Pandey (eds.), Handbook of Cross-cultural Psychology. Volume 1. Theory and Method, Second edition (Needham Heights, MA: Allyn & Bacon, 1997), pp. 347–87. B. Rogoff, Apprenticeship in Thinking: Cognitive Development in Social Context (New York: Oxford University Press, 1990). B. Rogoff, The Cultural Context of Human Development (New York: Oxford University Press, 2003). T. S. Saraswathi, “Many deities, one God: Towards convergence in cultural and cross-cultural psychology,” Culture & Psychology, 4 (1998), 147–60. T. S. Saraswathi, A. Verma, and D. Kalra, Issues in Child Development: Curriculum, Training, and Employment (Mumbai: Somaiya, 1988). M. H. Segall, P. R. Dasen, J. W. Berry, and Y. H. Poortinga, Human Behavior in Global Perspective: An Introduction to Cross-cultural Psychology (Boston, MA: Allyn & Bacon, 1999). M. H. Segall, W. J. Lonner, and J. W. Berry, “Cross-cultural psychology as scholarly discipline: On the flowering of culture in behavioral research,” American Psychologist, 53 (1998), 1101–10. R. Serpell, The Significance of Schooling (New York: Cambridge University Press, 1993). B. Shore, Culture in Mind: Cognition, Culture, and the Problem of Meaning (New York/Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1996). R. A. Shweder, “Cultural psychology – what is it?,” in W. Stigler, R. A. Shweder, and G. Herdt (eds.), Cultural Psychology (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1990). D. Sinha, “Indigenous psychology,” in J. W. Berry, Y. H. Poortinga, and J. Pandey (eds.), Handbook of Cross-cultural Psychology. Volume 1. Theory and Method, Second edition (Needham Heights, MA: Allyn & Bacon, 1997), pp. 129–69. P. B. Smith, “Nations, cultures, and individuals: New perspectives and old dilemmas,” Journal of Cross-Cultural Psychology, 35 (2004), 6–12. J. Valsiner, Culture in Minds and Societies: Foundations of Cultural Psychology (New Delhi: Sage, 2007). J. Valsiner and K. J. Connolly, “The nature of development: The continuing dialogue of processes and outcomes,” in J. Valsiner and K. J. Connolly (eds.), Handbook of Developmental Psychology (London: Sage, 2003), pp. ix–xviii. S. Zebian, R. Alamuddin, M. Maalouf, and Y. Chatila, “Developing an appropriate psychology through culturally sensitive research practices in the Arabicspeaking world,” Journal of Cross-Cultural Psychology, 38 (2007), 91–122

Subject Index

acculturation, 228–38, 242, 244, 245, 250, 252, 254, 256–7, 259 after-school education, 332 attachment, 77, 103, 128, 161–5, 167–9, 197, 203, 247, 249, 317, 339 attachment theory, 128, 161–2, 166, 168, 172, 197 authoritarianism, xix, 36, 256 autocthonization, 7, 8 autonomy, xx, 24, 136, 149, 163–5, 197–8, 213–14, 243–4, 257, 265, 266, 268–9, 277–9, 281–2 and relatedness, xx, 79, 109, 172, 196, 201, 215, 259 expectations, 264, 268–9, 277, 279, 281 BFI (bridges to the future initiative), 371, 378 bridges to the future initiative, 370–1 caregiving cognitions, xiv, 70, 72–4, 76, 163 causal process, 315–16, 319–21, 323, 325 child rearing practices, 111, 127, 129, 136 affection, 129–36 autonomy, 72–3, 75, 127–33, 135–6, 165, 247, 249, 251, 268, 281 control, 79, 98–101, 103, 127, 130–7, 164–6, 169, 212, 255–6, 258, 316 discipline, 129–34, 136 cognitive capacity, 355 collectivism, xx, 25, 41, 108, 135, 146, 147, 150, 210, 215, 221, 279, 303–4 cultural appropriateness, 314–16, 321–6 bias(es), 165, 172, 202, 216, 305 difference(s), 39–41, 54, 75, 88, 90, 93, 98–101, 145–6, 204, 242, 316–18, 387 diffusion, 210–11, 219–20

culturally-plural societies, 227–9 culture and, personality, 17–19 demographic transition, 88, 212, 217, 281 development, child, 69–81, 97, 159–60, 250, 333–4, 383 individual, 88, 90, 102 developmental idealism, 211, 220 dyadic systems model, 201 ecological systems theory, 315–16, 324 enculturation, 32, 81, 250 equivalence, 38, 304–8, 311, 360 family change, 100, 211–13, 221, 224, 244, 247, 249, 257–8 roles, 112–13, 117, 119, 121–2 Turkish, 108, 111, 121–2 FFM (Five-Factor Model) of personality, 26 Five-Factor Model of personality, 21–2, 26 gender roles, 218, 244, 247, 250–1, 253–4, 257–8, 267, 274, 280, 282, 288, 290 ICT (Information Communication Technologies), 367–72, 376–9 pro-poor, 368–9, 379 idioculture, 344 independence, 6, 41, 75, 79, 92, 96–8, 101–3, 108–9, 122, 127, 144–7, 149, 151, 153, 157, 160–1, 163, 165–6, 170–2, 213–14, 218, 221, 242–5, 247, 249–51, 257, 265 indigenization, 4–8, 15, 62 integration, xx, 25, 36, 44, 103, 127, 135, 195–6, 230–8, 386 intercultural strategies, 229

391

392

Subject Index

interdependence, 41, 79, 92, 95–6, 100, 102, 108–10, 123, 127, 144–7, 149– 51, 160–3, 165–7, 170–2, 198, 212– 16, 218, 242–5, 247, 249, 250–1, 253, 257–8, 265 internationalization, 8–12, 14 intervention, 187, 195, 291, 303, 308–10, 314–26, 347, 351–2, 356, 359–60, 364, 367, 369, 377, 379, 381–3 program(s), 301–3, 306, 310–11, 322, 350–3, 359–64, 381, 383, 388

paternalism, 294 peer talk, 183 program effectiveness, 306, 309, 353, 357– 8, 360, 362, 364 psychological dimensions, 19, 38 psychology Arab, 51, 55–6, 60–2 development of, 4, 194 global, 8, 50–1, 53, 55 international, xx, 8, 11, 14, 51, 55–6, 60, 62

leading activity, 338–9 levels of cultural analysis, 27, 384 literacy, 285, 331, 333, 352–3, 354–5, 359, 360, 369, 370–2, 376–7

relatedness, xx, 108–11, 123, 127, 147–50, 152–3, 161, 163, 165, 167, 171, 190, 197, 200–1, 204, 213–16, 220, 222–4, 241–4, 257

measurement, 38, 145, 153, 221, 223, 228, 280, 289, 304, 306, 309, 316–17, 325, 358, 364 MFC (Model of Family Change), 69, 72–3, 79, 212–13, 217–18, 220–2, 242–4, 249, 253–4, 256–7 Model of Family Change, 69, 88, 101–2, 108–10, 118, 121–2, 171, 211–12, 242, 279, 281–2 modernization, 50, 53, 55–6, 62, 91, 93, 95–7, 102, 210–15, 217–18, 220, 223–4, 243, 257, 285, 292 monitoring, 167, 369–70, 376–7, 383 multiculturalism, 231–3, 236 M-W (Majority World) countries, xx, 3–9, 12–14, 127, 199, 215–16, 220, 222, 302, 304, 311, 381, 385, 387–8

self expanding, 198–9 familial, 198–9 private, 197–9, 201 self-construal, 39, 41, 43, 144–53, 242 self-esteem, 126–31, 133–7, 144, 229, 235, 254, 256, 353 self-regulation, 143, 169 separation-individuation, 196, 200, 204 symbiosis-reciprocity, 198–200, 204

narrative(s), 178–80, 182–3, 185–90, 354–5 parenting, 87–90, 96–103, 127–9, 133–4, 136–7, 159–61, 163, 164–6, 168–72, 214, 242–4, 255–9, 316–17, 320–1, 323 parenting practices, 98, 103, 126–8, 130, 132, 134, 166–7, 242, 255–8, 317

values transmission of, 79, 90, 97, 103, 255 WFC (Work-Family Conflict), 291 women attitudes toward, 284–5, 288–91, 295 in labor force, 285 work–family conflict, 288, 291–2, 295 youth, xvi, xvii, 32, 121, 228, 234–8, 244–5, 266–7, 331, 333, 337–8, 347, 367–8, 370–1 zone of proximal development, 78, 339–40

Author Index

Abadan-Unat, N., 111, 243 Abdel-Khalek, A. M., 61 Abels, M., 161, 316 Abou-Hatab, F. A. L., 56 Adair, J. G., 4, 6–7, 9, 387 Adams, Q., 228, 230 Adamson, L., 166 Adorno, T. W., xix Ahmed, R. A., 56, 59, 61 Ainsworth, M. D. S., 128, 162–3 Akiba, M., 332 Alamuddin, R., 387 Albert, I., 98, 100–1, 103, 111 Alden, L., 231 Alfano, K. A., 309 Alipour, A., 54 Allen, M. W., 387 Allik, J., 22, 305, 318 Alvarado, R., 324 Amorim, K. S., 320 Ang, S., 29 Anguas-Plata, A. M., 9 Anwar, M., 320 Appleton, H., 362 Apthorp, H., 332 Arat, Z. F., 285 Arbak, Y., 287 Arbiter, E., 318 Ardila, R., 318 Arends-Toth, J., 232 Arnold, F., 87–9, 96 _ 266–7 Artan, I., Asencio, M., 160 Ataca, B., 88, 91, 108–10, 122, 127, 242, 244–5, 265, 281 _ 355 Ataibi¸s, I., Atoh, M., 224 Atwanger, K., 318 Au, A., 39, 94 Aukrust, V. G., 319 Aycan, Z., 285–6, 289–91, 294–5 Aytac¸ , I. A., 111

Ayvalıo
glu, N., 266 Azuma, H., 73, 75, 162 Bacon, P.L., 150 Bafiti, T., 112 Bakeman, R., 166 Baker, W. E., 93, 96 Ball, S., 362 Banaji, M. R., 143 Bandura, A., 143–4, 148–9, 151 Banet, B., 181 Banting, K., 237 Bard, K. A., 170 Bardi, A., 264 Barnard, K. E., 71, 73 Barr, R. G., 166 Barrera, M., 323 Bastiaenssen, V., 243 Ba¸saran, F., 265, 267, 279 Ba¸stu
g, S., 111 Batchelor, S., 372 Bates, J. E., 320 Baumeister, R. F., 128 Baumrind, D., 128, 256 Bayazıt, M., 290 Baydar, N., 302, 362, 383 Beebe, B., 201–3 Begum, H. A., 7 Behar, C., 127 Bekman, S., 127, 181, 302, 308, 352, 360 Bellamy, N., 324 Belle, D., 332, 337 Belsky, J., 72, 162 Benedict, R., 36, 76–7 Benga, O., 170 Bengtson, V. L., 253, 255 Benjamin, J., 197, 200 Bennett, J., 316 Bergman, A., 196 Berik, G., 111 Berkman, Y., 290 Berlyne, D. E., 4

393

394

Author Index

Berman, J. J., 50 Berman, R. A., 179, 182 Bernheimer, L., 159 Berry, J. W., 17, 19, 20, 71, 87–8, 97, 111, 113, 121–2, 145, 222, 228–35, 245–6, 251, 303–4, 310, 381, 382–3, 385, 388 Beutell, N. J., 291–2 Bhadha, B. R., 245 Bhagwat, A. A., 145 Bhawuk, D., 147 Bilsky, J., 23 Bingham, G. E., 73 Bingman, M. B., 353, 360 Birashk, B., 54 Biringen, Z., 169 Birman, D., 246 Blass, R. B., 197 Blatt, S. J., 196–7 Blehar, M. C., 161 Block, J. H., 129 Boddy, J., 54 Bodur, M., 295 Boehnke, K., 264 Bogatz, G. A., 362 Bond, M. A., 359 Bond, M. H., 18, 26–7, 31, 34, 36–41, 45– 6, 73, 94, 143, 145, 150, 166, 264, 307, 320 Bond, M. K., 39 Bonilla, M., 378 Bontempo, R., 194 Boratav, H. B., 290 Borden, G. A., 284 Borke, J., 165, 316, 320 Bornstein, M. H., 73, 75, 79, 257, 317 Botvin, E. M., 322 Botvin, G. J., 322 Bourhis, R., 233 Bourne, E. J., 194 Bowlby, J., 77, 128, 158, 161–2, 197 Bow-Thomas, C. C., 318 B€ or€ u, D., 266 Brainerd, C. J., 358 Brazelton, T. B., 159 Brenner, M. E., 316 Bresnahan, M. J., 145–6 Breugelmans, S. M., 305 Brewer, M. B., 147–8 Brislin, R. W., 36, 307 Brock, D. P., 322 Bronfenbrenner, U., 87, 102, 315, 336 Brooks-Gunn, J., 170 Brown, J., 73 Bruner, J., 17, 78, 161, 387

Buck, M. J., 73 Bujaki, M., 233 Bulatao, R. A., 87, 89 Burgess, S., 264 Buriel, R., 316 Buripakdi, C., 87 Burke, R. J., 286 Bus, A. G., 316 Butin, D. W., 347 Butovskaya, M., 318 Buunk, B. P., 148 Cai, B., 129 Caldwell, J. C., 213 Campbell, D. T., 19 Campbell, J. D., 128 Caporael, L. R., 148 Cappenberg, M., 159 Carlson, C., 128 Carlson, V. J., 160, 163, 166, 168 Carnoy, M., 333 Cashmore, J. A., 256 Cashmore, R., 72 Castejon, J. L., 356 Castro, F. G., 323–4 Caudill, W., 75 Ceci, S. J., 362 Cemalcılar, Z., 302, 360 Cen, G., 73 Chaiklin, S., 336 Chaiyasit, W., 318 Chan, P. W., 318 Chan, W., 320 Chao, R. K., 163, 167–8, 170 Chao, W., 309 Chasiotis, A., 159 Chatila, Y., 387 Chaudhuri, J. A., 320 Chavajay, P., 318 Chavez, K. L., 320 Chemonges-Nielson, Z., 39 Chen, H., 73 Chen, L.-Y., 5, 387 Chen, Q., 318 Chen, S. X. H., 39 Chen, X., 73, 318, 320 Chen, Y. R., 148 Cheung, F. M., 39 Child, I. L., 75 Choi, S. C., 150, 211 Christeson, W., 332 Christiansen, B., 129 Chumachenko, O., 387 Chung, B. J., 87 Chung, S. F., 73, 264

Author Index Church, A. T., 5 Claeys, W., 245 Cliche, G., 378 Clyman, R. B., 169 Coelho, A., 9 Cohen, E. V., 320 Cohler, B. J., 77 Cole, M., xx, 75, 334, 336–8, 343–4, 347, 383, 386–7 Cole, P. M., 75 Cole, S., 334 Conaway, W. A., 284 Conner, R., 362 Connolly, K. J., 385 Conroy, D., 286 Cook, T. D., 362 Coon, H. M., 146, 245 Cooper, J., 291 Coopersmith, S., 128–9 Costa, P. T., 21–2 Cote, L. R., 257 Cotton, S., 72 Crockenberg, S., 169–70 Cronbach, L. J., 228 Cross, 151 Cross, S. E., 150 Crosse, D., 353 Cuentas, T. E., 320 Custance, D., 170 Cyphers, L., 75 Calı¸ ¸ skan, K., 266 Cetinkaya, ¸ P., 355 Cileli, ¸ M., 266 D’Onofrio, B. M., 128 Dale, P. S., 316 Dar, R., 320 Darling, N., 73 Das Gupta, M., 164 Dasen, P. R., 87, 229, 251, 303, 310, 382, 385 Daswani, C. J., 371 Davidson, D. H., 168 Davidson, M. J., 286 Davies, K. I., 318 Dayıo
glu, M., 285 de Carrasquel, S. R., 26, 39, 94 De Clerq, A., 362 de Sanchez, M., 352, 360 De Von Figueroa-Moseley, C., 316 Deater-Deckard, K., 320 Deboosere, P., 243 deCani, J. S., 363 Deci, E. L., 128 Deeds, O., 73, 264

395 DeHart, T., 128 del Pilar, G. H., 21 Delaney, C., 111 Demetriou, A., 318 Dennis, T. A., 75 Denoma, J., 316 Derksen, M., 9 DeSisto, L. A., 363 Desoete, A., 362 Dessen, M. A., 318 Diaz, T., 322 Diaz-Guerrero, R., 5 Didow, S. M., 179 Diekman, A. B., 280 Diener, E., 387 Diez, V., 320, 322 Diri, A., 88, 110 Dodge, K. A., 320 Doi, T., 75 Draper, P., 158 Drenth, P. J. D., 228 Duane, R., 321 Duben, A., 111, 127 Dunham, C. C., 253 Dunn, J., 73 Duranti, A., 336 Durguno
glu, A. Y., 353–4 Durkheim, E., 210 Dustman, P., 322 Duxbury, L. E., 291 Eagly, A. H., 280 Earley, P. C., 151 Eastman, K. L., 318 Eaves, L. J., 128 Ebert, O., 353, 360 Eccles, J., 332–3 Eckerman, C. O., 179 Edelman, G. M., 201 Edwards, C. P., 80, 169–70, 319 Eggers-Pierola, C., 316 Eisenberg, A., 179 Eldering, L., 302, 308–9 Elek, E., 322 Elkonin, D. B., 339 Emde, R. N., 169 Engel, S., 178 Epstein, J. A., 322 € 289 Erg€ uder, U., Erktin, E., 355 Ervin-Tripp, S., 180, 182 Eskin, M., 291, 295 Esmer, Y., 289 Espinosa-Hernandez, G., 322 Evangelista, S., 372

396

Author Index

Fantz, R. L., 159 Farbakhsh, K., 309 Farver, J. M., 73, 129, 245 Fawcett, J. T., 87, 89, 96, 109, 110 Feather, N., 264, 280 Feldman, S. S., 281 Fernyhough, C., 164 Fiese, B. H., 180 Fischer, R., 146, 150 Fishbein, M., 308 Fiske, D. W., 19 Fiske, S. T., 289 Fi¸sek, G. O., 108, 121, 126–7, 195, 199–200, 265 Fivush, R., 178–9 Flavell, J. H., 318 Fleeson, J., 77 Flores, J., 246 Flynn, E. A., 332 Fogel, A., 165 Fok, H. K., 39 Fonagy, P., 76, 195 Fontaine, J. R. J., 305 Fox, J. A., 332 Fradley, E., 164 Franco, N., 128 French, D. C., 316, 318 French, V., 71 Frenkel-Brunswik, E., xix Freud, S., 76, 196 Friedlmeier, W., 318 Frindte, W., 318 Frodi, A. M., 72 Frodi, M., 72 Fromhoff, F., 179 Frydenberg, E., 318 Fu, P. P., 39 Fuertes, C., 310 Fuligni, A., 159, 246 Fuller, B., 316 Fussell, E., 387 Gabrenya, W. K., 5, 387 Galperin, C., 73 Gardner, W. L., 147 Geary, D. C., 162, 318 Gecas, V., 252 Gee, J. P., 179 Geertz, C., 70 Gelfand, M. J., 147, 150 €z, T., 121 Gen¸co Georgakopoulou, A., 178 Georgas, J., 19, 71, 88, 111–13, 121–2, 145, 222, 303–5 Ghent, E., 197

Gielen, U. P., 52, 56, 59, 384, 387–8 Gilstrap, B., 72 Gines, A. C., 54 Girndt, T., 304 Givaudan, M., 308–10 Glenn, C. G., 179 Glick, P., 289 Godshalk, V. M., 291 Gold, L., 310 Goleman, D., 28 Gomes, W., 52 Gonzales-Ramos, G., 320 Gonzalez, Z., 163, 168, 316 Goode, W. J., 211, 224 Goodnow, J. J., 72–3, 256 Goodwin, C., 336 Goody, J., 216 Gootman, J. A., 332–3 Gordon, M., 230 G€ ok¸sen, F., 354, 362 G€ oregenli, M., 134 Grader, M., 316 Graves, T., 229 Green, M. E., 387 Greenberg, J., 197 Greenfield, P. M., 159–60, 165, 167, 246, 318, 385 Greenhaus, J. H., 291–2 Gregg, G. S., 62 Griffin, P., 337–8, 343 Grigorenko, E. L., 356 Grimley, L. K., 316 Grotzer, T. A., 361 Grusec, J. E., 134–5, 256, 321 Gudykunst, W. B., 145 Guisinger, S., 196 Gullone, E., 320 Gutek, B. A., 291 Guyll, M., 309 G€ ulg€ oz, S., 354–6, 383 G€ ung€ or, D., 203, 250, 256, 257, 259, 260 uz, K., 286 G€ ur€ Haas, V., 161 Haden, C. A., 179–80 Hafkin, N., 372 Hagendoorn, L., 245 Hajnal, J., 216 Haker, F., 246 Hall, D. T., 292 Hall, K. M., 363 Halpern, R., 332, 337 Hambleton, R. K., 307 Hancıo
glu, A., 285 Hanich, L. B., 363

Author Index Hannoun, R., 318 Haq, M., 372 Harb, C., 150 Hardie, E. A., 150–1 Hardin, E., 145, 151 Hare-Mustin, R. T., 200 Harkness, S., 160 Harpending, H., 158 Harris, J. R., 127, 134 Harris, M., 20, 128, 264 Harwood, R. L., 160, 162–3, 165–6, 168, 316 Hastings, P. D., 73 Hautamaki, J., 356 Hawkins, R., 372 Hay, D., 165 Hayes, S. A., 28 Haynes, O. M., 73 Headeed, J., 302 Headland, T. N., 20 Hearn, L., 36 Hearn, S., 372 Hecht, M. L., 322 Hentschel, E., 161–2, 168 Hermans, H. J. M., 384 Hernandez, M., 26 Herrnstein, R. J., 352, 360–1 Herskovits, M. J., 229, 232 Herz, L., 320 Heyman, S., 145 Higgins, C. A., 291 Hinde, R. A., 158 Hindman, A., 359 Hochmann, M., 181 Hofer, J., 46 Hoffman, L. W., 87, 89, 97, 109 Hoffman, M. L., 89, 97, 129 Hofstede, G., 23, 25, 37–9, 134, 144, 146, 211, 303 Hogan, J. D., 51 Holden, G. W., 72–3 Holland, D., 79 Holloway, S., 316 Horta¸csu, N., 111, 121 Hutz, C. S., 52 Huyer, S., 372 Hwang, C.-P., 72 Hwang, K.-K., 62 Idema, H., 253, 255, 259 Ikedo, K., 387 Inglehart, R. F., 45, 93, 96, 219–20, 245 Iritani, T., 87 Irvine, S. H., 381

397 _ Imamo
glu, E. O., 109–11, 127, 135, 243, 245, 265–7, 279 _ Inan, A., 285 _ Islamo
glu, G., 266 Jacobson, E., 195, 200 Jawan, J. A., 387 Jefferson, G., 179 Jensen, H., 164, 316, 320 Jesso, B., 179 Johannesen-Schmidt, M. C., 280 Johnson, D. L., 324 Johnson, N. E., 225 Jolley, R. P., 318 Jordan, N. C., 363 Joshi, M. S., 319 Jurado, M., 309 Kabasakal, H., 285–7, 290, 293–5 Ka
gıtc¸ ıba¸sı, C., ¸ xix, xx, 4, 27, 31, 34–6, 38, 41, 45, 50, 69, 71, 79, 87–9, 91–2, 95–7, 100–3, 108–13, 118–22, 126–7, 135–6, 143, 145, 149, 152, 161–2, 166–7, 170–1, 178, 181, 190, 194–5, 199, 211, 213–16, 222, 228, 234, 242–5, 251, 254, 256–7, 260, 265, 279, 281, 289, 302–4, 316, 319, 352, 354–5, 360, 362, 381 Kakar, S., 166 Kalaycıo
glu, E., 289 Kalin, R., 232–3 Kalra, D., 383 Kandiyoti, D., 111, 289 Kaplan, D., 363 Karaka¸s, F., 285–6, 294 Karakitapo
glu-Ayg€ un, Z., 109, 111, 245, 265–7, 279 Karmiloff-Smith, A., 343 K€artner, J., 165, 316 Kashima, E. S., 148, 150 Kashima, Y., 148, 150–1 Katigbak, M. S., 5 Katrinli, A. E., 287 Kaye, K., 165 Kazgan, G., 267 Kazi, S., 318 Keehn, D., 134 Keller, H., 42, 159–72, 316, 320 Keltner, B., 316 Kemmelmeier, M., 146, 245 Kempen, H. J. G., 384 Kennedy, G., 318 Kennedy, R., 76 Kenny, M. E., 128 Kermani, H., 316

398

Author Index

Keultjes, P., 316 Keung, D. K. Y., 39 Khaleefa, O., 56 Kim, K., 145 Kim, M., 319 Kim, U., 62, 88, 91, 111, 150, 211, 230, 233 Kirkman, G. S., 372 Kitayama, S., 34, 144, 161, 166–7, 194 Kiyomiya, T., 145 Klappenbach, H., 52 Klaus, D., 111, 216 Klein, T., 111 Kleis, A., 165 Klepa, L., 291 Kluckhohn, F., 23 Knafo, A., 252, 256 Knight, R., 72 Knoche, L., 319 Knowles, M., 60 Koc¸ , I., 111, 285 Koenig, A. M., 280 Koh, C., 29 Kohut, H., 197 Koltko-Rivera, M. E., 27 Kolvin, I., 318 Komro, K. A., 309 Konner, M., 166 Koo, J., 111 Koopmann, B., 42 Koslowski, B., 159 Kozma, R., 369–70, 377 Krueger, J. I., 128 Kuczynski, L., 256 Kuensemueller, P., 165, 316 Kugler, K. C., 309 Kulis, S., 322 Kumpfer, K. L., 324 Kumru, A., 319 Kung, M-C., 5, 387 Kurman, J., 147 Ku¸scul, H., 353 Ku¸sdil, E., 265, 279 K€ untay, A. C., 180, 182, 362 Kwak, K., 246, 260 Kwon, Y.-E., 111 Kymlicka, W., 237 Kyratzis, A., 183 Labov, W., 182 Lachmann, F. M., 201–3 LaFreniere, P., 318 Lai, C. S. Y., 40 Lam, M., 246 Lamb, M. E., 72, 78, 166

Lamm, B., 161, 171 Landrine, H., 194, 203 Lang, K. L., 128 Langer, S., 376 Lansford, J. E., 320 Lanzi, R. G., 316 Lapinski, M. K., 145–6 Larson, R., 337 Lauer, K. D., 363 Lauer, P., 332 Lave, J., 336 Lawton, A., 316 Le, T. N., 320 Leavens, D., 170 Lee, C., 291 Lee, D. W., 145–6 Lee, S. Y., 145 Lee, T. S., 145–6 Leenen, I., 308–10 Lehmann, A., 264 Leichtman, M. D., 318 Leiderman, P. H., 71 Leigh, T., 76 Leitch, I., 318 Leong, F. T., 145 Leong, J. L. T., 39 Leontiev, A. N., 337 Lerner, D., 211 Leseman, P. P. M., 309, 316 Lesthaeghe, R., 218–23 Leung, K., 26, 38–9, 41, 53, 57, 94, 306 LeVine, R. A., 160, 162, 165–6, 170, 244, 257 Levine, T. R., 145–6 Levinson, D. J., xix Levitt, H. A., 360 Levitt, M. M., 128 Lewis, M., 170 Lewis, R., 318 Leyendecker, B., 160 Li, B., 73, 318 Li, D., 73, 318 Li, Z., 73 Liang, X., 316 Lightfoot, C., 334 Lim, B. K., 320 Lim, F., 39 Lim, S., 320 Linton, R., 229, 232 Lipman, M., 351 Litman, C., 169–70 Liu, F., 318 Liu, W.-L., 169–70 Lohaus, A., 159, 165, 316, 320 Lombard, A., 302

Author Index Lonner, W. J., 17–19, 28, 36, 386, 388 Lorenz, K., 158 Lucca Irizarry, N., 162 Ludemann, P., 75 Luna, J. R., 9 Lynn, R., 318 Maalouf, M., 387 Maccoby, E. E., 74, 256 Maclay, C. M., 372 MacLean, M., 319 Madden, N. A., 309 Maden, T., 246 Maes, H. H., 128 Mahieu, A., 316 Mahler, M. S., 196 Main, M., 159 Maital, S., 73 Maldonado-Molina, M. M., 322 Malinowski, B., 77 Mandler, J. M., 179 Manis, J. D., 87 Marecek, J., 200 Marek, L. I., 322 Markus, H. R., 34, 144, 166–7, 194 Marsiglia, F. F., 322 Martin, J., 256 Martinez, C. R., 323 Martin-Glenn, M., 332 Masataka, N., 318 Mashunkashey, J., 316 Maslow, A., 219 Matheson, C., 159 Matos, M., 309 Matsumoto, D., 19, 39, 42 Matsumoto, Y., 145 Mattoon, G., 76 Mayer, B., 89, 98–9, 101, 103, 111 Maynard, A. E., 159, 167, 318 Mayr, E., 158 McCabe, A., 179, 182 McCarthy, S., 52 McCarty, C. A., 318 McCoach, D. B., 360 McCrae, R. R., 21–2, 305 McDonald, K., 316 McGillicuddy-De Lisi, A. V., 73, 75 Mead, M., 77 Medawar, P. B., 43 Meins, E., 164 Melech, G., 264 Mellenbergh, G. J., 360 Merrifield, J., 353 Metallidou, Y., 318 Milevsky, A., 134

399 Miller, A. M., 160, 163, 316 Miller, J. G., 162, 386 Miller, P. C., 72 Miller, P. J., 179 Minde, T., 230 Mishra, R. C., 99, 103, 111 Mistry, J., 320, 322 Mitchell, M., 316 Mitchell, S. A., 197 Miyake, K., 162 Modell, A. H., 197–8, 201 Moise, C., 233 Mok, D., 230 Molgaard, V., 309 Monfared, G., 320 Montiel, C. J., 54 Moore, B. B., 179 Morrell, C., 372 Morris, M. L., 150 Morrison, T., 284 Mosier, C. E., 316 Mu~ noz, C., 26, 39 Munroe, R. H., 384 Munroe, R. L., 384 Murakami, F., 26, 39, 94 Murase, T., 316 Murphey, D. A., 73 Murray, C., 361 Murray, L., 165 Murrelle, L., 128 Mylonas, K., 112 Narang, S. K., 245 Nauck, B., 88, 90–1, 102, 111, 216, 243–4, 252, 253 Neels, K., 222 Neidert, L., 222 Nelson, K., 178, 179 Netter, S., 134 Newman, D., 343 Newman, S., 332 Nezlek, J., 42 Ng, S. H., 387 Nguyen, N., 245–6 Nickerson, R. S., 351–2, 360 Nicolopoulou, A., 179, 338 Nishida, T., 145 Norman, K., 162, 165, 170 Norris, P., 245 Notestein, F. W., 218 Nsamenang, A. B., 166, 387 Nurius, P., 144 O’Connell, A. A., 360 Ochs, E., 164, 167, 178–9, 182

400

Author Index

Ogino, M., 73, 75 Ogura, T., 316 Oishi, S., 387 Okagaki, L., 73 Olson, E. A., 217 Olson, J. M., 128 Ong, A., 246 Oppenheim, D., 169 Oral, A., 121 Ornstein, P. A., 179 Orung, S., 112 Oscanyan, E., 351 Oyserman, D., 45, 146, 245 € Oney, B., 353, 354 € € T., 287 Ozmen, O. Pachaury, A., 318 Pai, S., 166 Painter, K., 73 Pandey, J., 7 Papaligoura, Z., 165, 316 Papaliou, C., 165 Papierno, P. B., 362 Papousek, H., 159 Papousek, M., 159 Parasuraman, S., 291 Park, C. Y., 145 Park, H. S., 145–6 Park, Y. S., 91, 111 Parke, R. D., 316 Parker, W. D., 21 Parsons, T., 210–11 Pascual, L., 73 Paul, S., 77 Paulhus, D., 231 Peirce, M., 372 Pelham, B. W., 128 Peltzer, K., 89 Perkins, D. N., 351, 361 Perreault, S., 233 Perry, C. L., 309 Peters, L. H., 289 Peterson, C., 179 Pettengill, S. M., 134–5 Pettit, G. S., 320 Phalet, K., 243, 245–6, 250, 252–3, 255–6, 259–60, 267, 279 Phinney, J. S., 229, 235, 238, 245–6 Piaget, J., 343 Pick, S., 304, 308–10 Pidada, S., 316 Pike, K. L., 20 Pilgrim, C., 318 Pine, F., 196 Pleck, J. H., 291

Polanyi, L., 182 Poortinga, Y. H., 71, 87–8, 111–13, 145, 222, 229, 251, 302–3, 305–7, 308–10, 382–3, 385–6 Portes, P. R., 320 Pott, M., 162 Povinelli, D., 170 Power, S., 233 Pratt, W. M., 180 Prechtl, H., 158 Preece, A., 182 Prentice, D. J., 143 Pressley, M., 358 Prieto, M. D., 356 Prince-Gibson, E., 264, 280 Prosser, E. C., 128 Puhan, B. N., 7 Pullmann, H., 318 Purohit, Y. S., 291 Quinn, N., 79 Rabain-Jamin, J., 168 Radcliffe-Brown, A. R., 70 Rahn, C. W., 75 Rambaud, M., 316 Ramey, C. T., 316 Ramirez, R., 372 Rao, N., 318 Rea, K., 353 Reddy, V., 165 Redfield, R., 229, 232 Reese, E., 179–80 Reis, S. M., 360 Reyes, N. A., 322 Ricciuti, A. E., 352 Richardson, D., 372 Rimdzius, T. A., 352 Rispens, J., 309 Riveros, A., 57, 59, 316 Rochat, P., 165 Rodney, L. W., 324 Rodriguez, I., 309 Roeyers, H., 362 Rogoff, B., xx, 78, 316, 318, 336, 386 Rohan, M. J., 251–2 Rohner, R. P., 98, 128, 134–5 Roland, A., 194–5, 198–9 Rolland, J.-P., 21 Rosenberg, M., 144 Rosenfeld, A., 71 Rosenthal, D. A., 281 Rosenzweig, M. R., 51 Ross, G., 78 Rossetti-Ferreira, M. C., 320

Author Index Rothbaum, F., 99, 162–3, 165, 167 Rotter, J. B., 26 Rovine, M., 72 Rowe, D. C., 127 Rubel, T., 264, 279–80 Rubin, K. H., 73, 318 Rudy, D., 134, 135, 256, 321 Rueda-Riedle, A., 318 Ruesga, C., 304 Rumelhart, D. E., 179 Rushton, J. P., 358 Ruthig, J., 9 Ryan, R. M., 128 Ryder, A., 231 Sabatier, C., 101, 103 Sabeau-Jouannet, E., 168 Sabourin, M., 60 Sacks, H., 179 Sagi, A., 162 Saklofske, D. H., 305 Sam, D. L., 89, 228–9, 235, 238, 246 Sanchez-Sosa, J. J., 57, 59, 316 Sanford, R. N., xix Santiago, R., 309 Sarason, S., 343 Saraswathi, T. S., 166, 383, 386 Sartorius, N., 382 Sato-Tanaka, R., 318 Sayed, M. A., 56, 62 Schegloff, E. A., 179 Scherer, K. R., 41 Schinke, S. P., 322 Schlechter, M., 134 Schmitt, D. P., 203 Schneider, B. H., 320 Schoelmerich, A., 163, 168, 316 Schore, A. N., 202 Sch€ onpflug, U., 79, 252, 255–6, 259, 267, 279 Schulze, P. A., 163, 168, 316 Schwarz, B., 98, 111 Schwartz, S. H., 23, 25, 38, 146, 148, 252, 256, 263–4, 268, 279, 280 Searle, S., 291 Sedikides, C., 147 Segall, M. H., 17, 87, 228–9, 251, 303, 310, 382, 385, 388 Sen, A., 304 Senecal, S., 233 Serpell, R., 387 Shaffer, A., 362 Sharkey, W. F., 40 Sharp, A. M., 351 Shearman, S. M., 145

401 Shore, B., 386 Shweder, R. A., xx, 194, 386 Siegler, R. S., 318 Sigel, I. E., 73 Sikoska, T., 372 Singelis, T. M., 40, 43, 144, 147, 151 Singer, J. D., 316 Sinha, D., 5, 387 Sipahi, B., 266 Sirin, S. R., 128 Slavin, R. E., 309 Slobin, D. I., 179 Smith, E. E., 351 Smith, M., 353, 360 Smith, M. B., xx Smith, P., 324 Smith, P. B., 23, 27, 143, 145–6, 150, 384 Smith, R., 182 Snow, C. E., 179 Snow, D., 332 Solchany, J. E., 71, 73 Soliman, S. A., 61 Soueif, M. I., 56, 61 Sperry, D. E., 182 Sperry, L. L., 182 Spilka, B., 128 Spoth, R. L., 309 Srivastava, R. P., 324 Sroufe, L. A., 77 St. Pierre, R. G., 352 Stafford, K. B., 363 Starr, J., 111 Stead, G. B., 62 Steele, H., 76 Steele, M., 76 Stein, N. L., 179 Steinberg, L., 73 Stern, D. N., 200–3 Sternberg, R. J., 356 Stevens, M. J., 52 Stewart, S. L., 73 Stewart, S. M., 73, 166, 264, 281, 318, 320 Sticht, T. G., 354 Stockdale, G. D., 320 Strodtbeck, F., 23 Subramanian, S., 75 Sufi, A. H., 387 Sugden, S., 372 Sullivan, H. S., 197 Sullivan, R., 322 Sun, Y., 73 Sunar, D., 108, 110–11, 121–2, 126–7, 134, 181, 265, 302, 352, 360 Super, C., 160

402

Author Index

Surkyn, J., 218–23 Suwanlert, S., 318 S€ umer, N., 203, 257 Swets, J. A., 352, 360 _ 180, 182 S ¸ enay, I., Taggart, N., 372 Tal, J., 75 Tamang, B. L., 75 Tamis-LeMonda, C. S., 73, 75 Tamkin, G., 362 Tanaka, K., 225 Tardif, T., 91 Target, M., 195 Taylor, C., 179, 182 Taylor, D., 232–3 Taylor, J., 289 Teh, L. P., 54 Tennen, H., 128 Terborg, J. R., 289 Tezer, E., 266 Tharenou, P., 286 Thomas, G. V., 318 Thorndike, R. M., 36 Thorndyke, P. W., 179 Thornton, A., 210, 212, 220–2, 225, 245 Tikkanen, T., 52 Timur, S., 111 Ting-Toomey, S., 145 Tobin, J. J., 168 Toda, S., 75 Tomasello, M., 171 Tong, K. K., 39, 94 Tornatsky, L. C., 36 Torres, R., 309 Trevarthen, C., 165 Triandis, H. C., xx, 19, 28, 101, 147, 194, 211, 303 Trickett, E. J., 246 Trommsdorff, G., 88, 90–2, 95, 97–102, 103, 111, 244, 318 Tseng, V., 246 Tuckey, M., 164 Tulkin, S. R., 71 Tulviste, T., 316 Turner, J. C., 144 Uppal, S., 128 Uzun-Sabol, A. E., 355 Vaccaro, T. P., 51 Valdivia, I. A., 320 Valsiner, J., 385–7 Van de Kaa, D. J., 218, 220–1, 223

van de Vijver, F. J. R., 19, 38, 71, 88, 111, 113, 145, 222, 232, 238, 303–8 van den Brink, W. P., 360 van Dyne, L., 29 van IJzendoorn, M. H., 72, 162 Van Tuijl, C., 309 Van Yperen, N. W., 148 Vancatova, M., 170 Varela, R. E., 316 Veblen-Mortenson, S., 309 Vedder, P., 229, 235, 238, 245–6, 302, 308–9 Venguer, T., 308 Vera, J., 308 Verma, A., 383 Verma, S., 337 Vernberg, E. M., 316 Vernon, P. A., 128 Villareal, M. J., 194 Vinden, P. G., 318 Virta, E., 246 Visser, P. S., 291 Voelker, S., 167–70, 316 Vohra, N., 7 Vohs, K. D., 128 Vygotsky, L. S., 78, 337, 340 Wagner, D. A., 369–71, 377, 383 Wagstaff, D. A., 322 Wainwright, R., 164 Waletzky, J., 182 Wall, S., 161 Wang, Q., 318 Wanitromanee, K., 318 Ward, C., 230, 236 Wasik, B. A., 359 Waters, E., 161 Webb, M., 372 Weber, S. J., 362 Weikart, D. P., 181 Weisner, T. S., 159, 326 Weiss, L., 305 Weisz, J. R., 162, 318 Welles-Nystr€ om, B., 73 Wertsch, J., 336 Whitebeck, L. B., 252 Whiting, B. B., 80, 87, 97, 169, 384 Whiting, J. W. M., 75, 87, 97 Wilkerson, S., 332 Willems, P., 223 Williams, H. L., 245–6 Williams, J. P., 363 Wilson, E. O., 158, 387 Wittenbaum, G., 145–6

Author Index

403

Wood, D., 78 Wortham, S., 180 Wu, D. Y. H., 168

Yu, L., 129 Yuki, M., 150 Yurtkoru, S., 266

Xu, Y., 53, 129

Zady, M., 320 Zaman, R. M., 320 Zanna, M. P., 251–2 Zayas, L. H., 320 Zebian, S., 387 Zeng, Q., 129 Zeytino
glu, I. U., 287 Zhang, H., 53 Zhang, J., 53, 57 Zhang, Z., 129 Zheng, G., 91 Zhi, Z., 318

Yamaguchi, S., 150 Yamashita, Y., 316 Yang, K. S., 5, 62 Yavuz, S., 291 Yoo, S. H., 19 Yoon, G., 211 Young, M., 233 Young, R. A., 62 Young-DeMarco, L., 245 Yovsi, R. D., 161, 165, 166, 168, 169, 170–2, 316, 320