The Skinner box rat

Bob Chorush, Psychology Student

Species: Rat

Procedure: Psychology lab
Institution: Hofstra University
Location: Hempstead, NY, US

Year: 1966

My rat didn’t have a name. I’m sure he had a number, but I never knew that either. He was one among hundreds of rats who lived in banks of stainless steel cages somewhere in the murky depths of the Hofstra University psychology building basement. Every Thursday afternoon, he and his cage mates were hauled up to the Experimental Psychology lab and placed in Skinner boxes.

I was one human among hundreds required to take Psychology lab as a requirement for graduation.

Our supposed “experiment” involved observing the rat as he learned to push a lever which delivered a food pellet.  We also counted the number of responses.

The first day, while other Skinner boxes clicked and rattled with lever pushes, my rat slowly and curiously inspected his cage. He sniffed at the lever but had no interest in pushing it. I reached into the cage and pushed the lever for him. A pellet shot down, scaring him away, but once I withdrew my hand, he quickly inspected then ate it. He was obviously ravenous.

After seeing how easy it was to get food, I was sure that my rat would start tap dancing on the lever and gorging himself. Not so. He again continued his inspection of the cage showing no more interest in the lever than the glass walls.

I hit the lever again. Again the rat devoured the tiny pellet but showed no interest in pushing the lever. I had as much interest in this experiment as the rat, so I reached into the food reservoir and tossed twenty or thirty pellets to him. For the first time that I’d seen, the rat seemed animated, even excited, as he hastily stuffed himself with rat chow.

I took a break from my research to get a drink of water from the hallway fountain. I pushed the lever and water spurted up. Instead of drinking, I looked up to the ceiling to see if anyone was counting my responses.

When I returned to the lab my rat was cheerfully grooming himself, while rats all around him were frantically pushing Skinner levers as fellow students tabulated their data, which I later copied.

I was grateful that there was no Psych lab the following week until I learned the reason. The rats had accidentally been fed the day before. Satiated rats could care less about Skinner boxes. Not only was my rat living a miserable existence but he was also being periodically starved allegedly for my education.

From then on, I anticipated Psychology Lab. I gathered and prepared various treats for my rat - cheeses, nuts, lettuce and other foods I thought he might like. While my fellow students moved on to colored levers, electric shocks and ever more complex and horrific experiments, I spent my time feeding and getting to know my rat, then later copying their data.

My rat was “sacrificed” at the end of the term. About 25% of the men that I went to high school with were “sacrificed” in Vietnam.

While there may have been very important lessons to be learned from both sacrifices, it saddens me that so few humans have learned them.