RFT

VIDEO

https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLdc2ztLPj9fL1GkcNaAkWePKNAC8xulms

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7ViXj2XEY28

There is a strong empirical and conceptual relationship between language and derived stimulus
relations. An empirical relationship does not indicate that derived stimulus relations depend upon
language or that such relations are mediated by language. When two dependent variables are
correlated, one conservative strategy is to determine whether both variables are reflective of the
same basic underlying psychological process. If the two areas do overlap at the level of behavioral
process, then questions about human language may also be questions about derived stimulus
relations, and vice versa.
This is the basic theoretical and empirical research strategy of RFT. The overarching aim of this
behavioral research has been to integrate a range of apparently diverse psychological phenomena
including, for example, stimulus equivalence, naming, understanding, analogy, metaphor, and rule-
following.
Relational Frame Theory adopts the view that the core defining element in all of these, and many
other inherently verbal activities, is arbitrarily applicable relational responding, and moreover that
such responding is amenable to a learning or operant analysis.
RFT treats relational responding as a generalized operant, and thus appeals to a history of multiple-
exemplar training. Specific types of relational responding, termed relational frames, are defined in
terms of the three properties of mutual and combinatorial entailment, and the transformation of
functions. Relational frames are arbitrarily applicable, but are typically not necessarily arbitrarily
applied in the natural language context.
Mutual entailment refers to the derived bidirectionality of some stimulus relations, and as such it is
a generic term for the concept of "symmetry" in stimulus equivalence. "Mutual entailment" applies
if stimulus A is related to another stimulus B in a specific context, and as a result a relation between
B and A is entailed in that context. Combinatorial entailment refers to instances in which two or
more relations that have acquired the property of mutual entailment mutually combine.
Combinatorial entailment is the generic term for what is called "transitivity" and "equivalence" in
stimulus equivalence. Combinatorial entailment applies when, in a given context, A is related to B
and B is related to C, and then in that context a relation is entailed between A and C and another
between C and A. For example, if A is bigger than B, and B is bigger than C, then a bigger-than
relation is entailed between A and C, and a smaller-than relation is entailed between C and A. A
transformation of stimulus functions applies when functions of one event in a relational network is
altered based on the functions of another event in the network and the derived relation between
them. Mutual and combinatorial entailment are regulated by contextual cues (C rel). The
transformation of stimulus functions are regulated by additional contextual cues (C func).
The development of relational responding can be organized into a rough list that gradually becomes
more and more complex. We are not presenting this list as a set of stages or steps, and we would
expect them to be sequenced only in broad terms and even then only if the training history is
 typical. Nevertheless, this list gives a sense of the complexity that emerges from the small set of
core concepts in Relational Frame Theory.
 Contextually controlled mutual entailment in equivalence
 Contextually controlled combinatorial entailment in equivalence
 Contextually controlled transfer of stimulus functions through equivalence relations
 Integration of these response components into a functional response class: a frame of
coordination
 Simple examples of verbal understanding
 Contextually controlled mutual entailment in additional types of stimulus relations
 Contextually controlled combinatorial entailment in additional types of stimulus relations
 Contextually controlled transformation of stimulus functions in additional types of stimulus
relations
 Integration of these into additional relational frames
 Simple examples of genuinely verbal governance of behavior by others
 Conditional contextual control over the participation of given elements in relational frames
 The development of relational networks
 More complex examples of verbal understanding
 Verbal governance of the behavior of others (e.g., verbal mands and tacts)
 Transformation of stimulus functions across relational networks
 Increasing number and complexity of relational frames
 Increasing acquisition of specific participants in specific relational frames (e.g., vocabulary)
 Complex interactions between relations (training in one influences development of another)
 Integration of related types of relational frames into families of relational responses
 Elaborated and increasingly subtle contextual control over relational responding (e.g., syntax;
number of relational terms)
 Elaborated and increasingly subtle contextual control over transformation of stimulus
functions (e.g., number and specificity of functional terms)
 Nonarbitrary properties serve as a relational context for arbitrarily applicable relational
responses
 Increasingly complex relational networks
 With acquisition of equivalence, time or causality, and evaluation, the development of relational
sentences that function fully as rules
 Relating relational networks
 Transformation of stimulus functions based on the relating of relational networks
 Relating relational networks under the control of nonarbitrary properties of the environment
 More complex examples of rule understanding and rule-governance,
particularly pliance and tracking
 Regulation of the behavior of the listener through the establishment of relational networks in the
listener
 With the acquisition of hierarchical class membership, use of relational networks to abstract
nonarbitrary properties and to have these properties participate in relational frames
 Abstracting properties of the nonarbitrary environment based on relational networks and the
relating of relational networks
 With the acquisition of temporal, contingency, and causal relational frames, increased
insensitivity to temporal delays
 Development of deictic relational frames
 Development of perspective-taking and sense of self
 Construction of the verbal other
 Construction of the conceptualized group
 Contextual control of relational responding by the nonarbitrary and arbitrary properties of the
listener
 Further development of rule-following, particularly augmenting
 Regulation of the behavior of the listener by orienting the listener to abstracted features of the
environment
 Acquisition of increasingly abstract verbal consequences
 Self-rule generation and self rule-following
 Pragmatic verbal analysis and increasingly complex forms of problem solving and reasoning
 Increasing dominance of the verbal functions of the environment
The foregoing provides a summary of the key features of RFT. The key concept that underlies
Relational Frame Theory is extremely simple—try to think of relating per se as learned behavior. As
the list above shows, however, applying this simple idea leads to many specific points—the nature
of an arbitrarily applicable relational response, the role of context, the varieties of relational
responses, the role of the nonarbitrary environment, networks of relations, the use of these
abilities to solve problems, the development of self, and so on.

VENTAJAS DE RFT

Advantages of the RFT Approach to Human Language and Cognition

There are many different theories—in many different disciplines—that attempt to explain or
account for human language and cognition. With so many different theories available, what is
unique or special about Relational Frame Theory?
We believe the functional, contextualistic approach of RFT to understanding complex human
behavior has led to a system of analysis that offers many advantages over the traditional structural
and “information transmission” models of language and cognition (Blackledge, 2003). These
advantages include:
 RFT is parsimonious, relying on relatively few basic principles and concepts to account for
language and cognition.
 RFT is precise, allowing the study of human language to be conducted in accordance with the
carefully-specified definitions of its component processes.
 RFT has broad scope, providing plausible explanations and new empirical approaches to a wide
variety of complex human behaviors in both basic and applied domains (such as problem solving,
metaphors, self, spirituality, values, rule-governed behavior, psychopathology, intelligence, etc.).
 RFT has depth, meaning that its analyses cohere with established treatments at other levels of
analysis. For example, it provides plausible accounts of cultural phenomena such as knowledge
amplification; recent neurological research indicates that the brain processes seen while subjects
engage in derived relational responding fit with the RFT language claim; and connectionist
models of the learning history needed to establish relational frames coheres with RFT.
 The principles of RFT are directly observable, especially under laboratory conditions, so no
tenuous inferences about the existence of unseen structures or processes (such as cognitive
schemas or language acquisition devices) are required.
 RFT is firmly based on empirical research that has without exception supported its tenets. In
addition to the over 30 published empirical treatments of RFT, the theory also accounts for the
data observed in hundreds of empirical studies on the concept of stimulus equivalence that have
been published since 1971. RFT has withstood all empirical tests so far, and all of its core claims
now have at least some supportive data. So far, no data has arisen in contradiction to the theory.
 RFT has direct applied and clinical applications that are not apparent in other accounts of human
language and cognition. There are many successful empirical studies on applied methods based
on RFT (particularly Acceptance and Commitment Therapy, but including other methods as well,
such as methods of attitude change, or the treatment of stigma and prejudice, or increasing
intelligence) and many clear applied implications yet to be pursued.
 RFT is generative. The account leads quickly to innovative and (so far) empirically successful
approaches to virtually all of the important topics in the language and cognition domain.
 RFT is testable. Its core claim (that relating can be thought of as learned, operant behavior) is an
empirical matter. If relational frames do not develop, come under contextual control, respond to
shaping via multiple exemplar training, and respond to consequences, then the theory is false.
Further, its claim that relational frames are the core of human language is testable both directly
and pragmatically. For example, if RFT does not lead to more successful education interventions
than those that currently exist, then it fails. (see section on research evidence).
 RFT is progressive. RFT supports what is within the "protective belt" of the behavioral paradigm
and yet is generative in the sense described above (see Lakatos for this approach to
progressivity). RFT is a behavioral theory that builds on everything that is known about basic
behavioral principles, but takes this basic account into a fundamentally new direction with
profound and exciting implications for almost every topic relating to complex human behavior.
Yet it does so without any patchwork corrections to the basic assumptions of the behavioral
paradigm. This has resulted in newer models that are being updated as well as changes in
methodology to study topics of interest more precisely.
 RFT is coherent. Its philosophical basis is well articulated; its assumptions are clearly stated; its
concepts are carefully defined; and all of these levels fit together.

What is Relational Frame Theory (Part One)

Q: What is ironshrink’s take on relational frame theory? Is it

controversial as voodoo? There are no chickens involved, are there? – Sponge

Dear Sponge,

Relational frame theory (RFT) is a novel explanation of cognition and language. It

influences the clinical work that I do with anxiety and depression and, like evolutionary
psychology, it manages to inject a bit of hard science into psychology’s soft, squishy
center. Before we look at RFT, let’s do a quick review of what RFT is not.
Most of us in the Western world are taught to think of language in cognition in a
mechanical, concrete manner. That usually involves naming things that don’t exist. Here’s
what I mean. Suppose a dog barks in your neighborhood. Another dog, down the street,
hears the first dog and responds by barking also. A rational person would explain the
situation by saying “the dogs are barking.”

It is silly and stilted to explain it this way: “The first dog encoded a ‘bark’ (previously
stored in the dog’s head) which he subsequently emitted and transmitted through the
atmosphere. The ‘bark’ was intercepted by the second dog. It was then stored and
decoded, after which the second dog encoded and transmitted a ‘bark’ of his own.”

The problem with that explanation is that there is no such thing as “a bark.” It is not an
object. There is only “barking,” the behavior.

A
convoluted explanation of doggy communication.
More importantly, we don’t need the concept of “a bark.” Nor do we need a bark encoder.
These imaginary contraptions only complicate matters and create impossible
questions. Where does the bark reside before it is transmitted? How is it “encoded”? Why
can’t I decode the “bark” – shouldn’t my decoder be backward compatible with a dog’s?

Imaginary doodads like “barks” are like handles on a football. They add unnecessary
complication. They also force us to ask the wrong questions. Entire careers have been
built on the search for a “language acquisition device” that allows humans our uniquely
complex communication style. It has yet to be found and there is no loss in that. We don’t
need the idea of a language device any more than we need a “walk device,” a “watch TV
device,” or a “play it off and try to look cool when you stumble because you reallymeantto
do that device.” (Therein lies another problem. Once we start naming contrivances, there
is no end to it.)

Yet, if you have ever taken a communication class, you have probably seen something
similar to this convoluted diagram:

The
standard, overly complicated communication model taught in classrooms and board
rooms throughout the country. Unfortunately, there is no evidence that any of the
depicted items actually exist. (Aside from the people.)
There are quite a few contrived doohickies in this model: channel, encoder, decoder,
message, and feedback. And those giant, pointy arrows flying through the air – good lord,
you could take an eye out with one of those things. Luckily, none of them seem to exist.

Consider the idea of a “message.” It can be a tough concept at first because we are taught
to think about communication in a concrete way, but there is no such thing as a message
or even a word. Sound waves exist in a physical sense but there is no physical bulletin that
is intercepted and decoded. There is only noise that we have learned to interpret, and
noise that we have learned to produce because it has an effect on the environment.

A simpler
explanation for communication. Here, we see a small human learning to affect the
environment through sound (artist’s rendition). A baby begins learning speech by making
all sorts of random sounds. When she makes a sound that has meaning to adults, then
things begin to happen in the environment. Here, “ba” produces a bottle of tasty
sustenance. Voila! Add complexity to this recipe and you have language.
The learning model is a simpler, more elegant explanation of language. People learn to
manipulate the environment through sound and symbols just as they learn to manipulate
it with their hands: through practice. When we focus on actions, rather than imaginary
objects, then we get to ask different questions… more useful questions. Questions that,
ultimately, help explain human suffering. That’s where RFT comes in.

Paging Dr. Hayes

Relational frame theory is the result of research by Dr. Steven Hayes, along with Dermot
Barnes-Holms and several other scholarly types who have helped shape this large body of
work. RFT is an attempt to fill a void left by the behaviorist B. F. Skinner.

You may recall from your psychology 101 course that Skinner propelled behaviorism into
the spotlight during the 1960s and 70s. Perhaps you even remember the basic three-term
contingency model of behavior: Antecedent-Behavior-Consequence. The ABC model is
great for explaining how people and animals get things done.

For example, a child sees a tasty bit of candy at the grocery store (antecedent), he
screams “I want candy!” (behavior), and the mother buys the candy (consequence). The
kid has just trained his mother to supply candy on demand. Skinner explored the nuances
of such interactions and showed us the wonderful interplay between organisms and their
environment.

Skinner was a brilliant man. But even brilliant people have their white whales, and
Skinner’s was language. He struggled to explain how humans interact with each other at
such a complex level. Early in his career, he feared that his brand of behaviorism couldn’t
explain language at all. Later, he made a valiant attempt in his 1957 book, Verbal
Behavior. Unlike the bulk of Skinner’s work, Verbal Behavior was largely theoretical. While
it was filled with useful ideas about language, it fell short of explaining this pivotal aspect
of human psychology.

Hayes and his colleagues set out to find answers to Skinner’s unanswered questions.
While Skinner was on the right track, Hayes and company added an exciting idea that
seems to explain much about the why’s and how’s of human communication: humans
learn how to derive relationships that aren’t explicitly obvious (I’ll explain that
momentarily), and those derived relationships are applied systematically to verbal
behavior (I’ll explain that, too).
I’ve met Steven Hayes. He is a kindhearted, ingenious man who could find staggering
complexity in a shopping list. I, on the other hand, am a pedestrian commentator with the
dubious gift of oversimplification. Take the following explanation of RFT lightly. We’re
going to stick to a few of the basics.

RFT Boiled Down, Oversimplified, and Stripped of Its Rich, Wholesome Goodness

There are relationships that are explicitly taught (“that red fruit over there is an apple”)
and unspoken relationships that are inferred based on relationships that are taught
(therefore, apples are red fruit). Deriving the latter relationship from the former comes
easy to you and me, but it took practice for us to get good at it.

Non-verbal animals struggle with this skill, if they can develop it at all. They can learn
both directions in a relationship (object = name & name = object) but only with extensive
training and never with the effortless fluidity of humans.

Suppose, for example, that I say the word “treat” and give my dog, Hachi, a cookie. Being
the clever dog that she is, she quickly learns that the sound “treat” equates to the object.
Whenever she hears the sound “treat” she is reminded of the smell, the taste, and the
satisfaction carried by the real thing. Much excitement ensues around our house after
someone utters that word.

Hachi has
learned that the sound “treat” means that joyous satisfaction will soon follow. It seems
that, for her, the sound has taken on some of the meaning of the actual object. Try it
yourself: notice what happens next time you hear the name of your favorite food. You will
probably begin to imagine its sight and taste. Maybe you’ll imagine your mother’s kitchen
or a favorite restaurant. If you’re hungry enough, you may even salivate. Words are more
than symbols. They have a way of taking on much meaning.
As clever as Hachi is, there is no evidence that she equates the actual object with the
word “treat.” For her, it seems to be a one-way relationship: “treat” equals a physical
cookie but physical cookies don’t necessarily equal “treat.”

People, however, can effortlessly glean two, or more, relationships from one piece of
information. For example, if you give your average psychologist a dog biscuit and call it a
“treat,” he will immediately infer that “treat” is also descriptive of a dog biscuit. He
derives two relationships where only one was taught.

Teach a person
that a certain object goes with the sound “treat” and he will immediately infer that “treat”
is also descriptive of the object. You get two lessons for the price of one: the first
relationship is taught, the second is derived independently.
Deriving relationships may seem so effortless and obvious as to be unimportant, but this
ability is a very big deal. It’s what allows us to make sounds that other people understand
rather than simply pointing and grunting at things. It even allows us to ask others for our
favorite food – and really, what is more important than that? If Hachi had that ability to
derive relationships, she would probably spend the rest of her life saying “treat! treat!
treat! treat! treat! treat! treat!”

Practice Makes Perfect

So how, exactly, do we come by this ability? Obviously, having a few neurons in the right
order helps. Beyond that, it takes practice. According to RFT, we learn to derive
relationships by viewing lots of examples and then eventually applying the principle on
our own.

Consider our example of naming things. When we teach little children to name things, it
usually follows a certain recipe. First, we show the object to the child and name it. Then
we say the name and ask the child to point to the object. This teaches both directions in
the object-name relationship.

Step one in
teaching Junior how to derive relationships involves many examples in which both
directions in the relationship are taught (object = name & name = object).
Eventually, we remove the training wheels and stop teaching the relationship in both
directions. We only name the object because the child knows how to derive the reverse
relationship. (This becomes obvious, in part, when she starts asking for things by name.)
 Step two. This
time, only the name is stated. Junior derives the second part of the relationship by herself
after seeing many different examples of how to do it. This is quite the handy time-saver!
Once Junior learns how to do this on her own, then she has developed a relational frame,
meaning that she knows how to derive certain kinds of relationships, in certain contexts,
based on past training. (Technically, there is no such thing as a “relational frame” because
it is not an object or mechanism. There is only relational framing, the behavior. We’ll use
“relational frame” as shorthand, just like “word” or “message.”)

Whether you cotton to it or not, you’ll probably agree that this theory is a far cry from the
old, convoluted communication diagram pictured at the top of the page. Communication,
rather than being based on the manipulation of “things” like messages and channels, is
based on interaction with the environment through sounds and symbols. When we do
something correctly, like naming a thing, we feel encouraged to do it again.

Naming things just one example of a relational frame. Turns out, we humans are skilled at
deriving all sorts of relationships using only skimpy information. In part two of this article,
we’ll look at other relational framing behaviors and discuss what happens when we apply
them to ourselves. As handy as it is, relational framing has a downside.

What is Relational Frame Theory (Part Two)

 In Part One, we looked at one of the handy cognitive
shortcuts that separates humanity from other non-verbal earthlings: relational framing.
We have the ability to derive relationships that aren’t explicitly taught; other animals
don’t, for the most part. That means that our knowledge can increase exponentially
whenever we learn a single new piece of information.

For example (we can’t do this stuff without examples), if we teach a person that a curved
yellow fruit is called a banana, the person will automatically discern that the sound
“banana” represents curved yellow fruit. That’s two pieces of information for the price of
one, and we’ll refer to this as bi-directionality.

That may not seem like much at first glance, especially when we’re simply about naming
things, but let’s look at what happens with more complex relational framing behavior.

Let’s say you and I bump into each other at the local psychology convention and I
introduce you to my brother, Leroy and my father, Rupert. I’ve given you only two pieces
of information:

1. Leroy is my brother.
2. Rupert is my father.

But check out what happens behind the scenes in your average human mind. From those
two facts, you derive four additional relationships. (The red arrows represent
relationships that are explicitly taught, and the blue arrows represent things that we
figure out on our own.)
 1. I am Leroy’s brother.
2. I am Rupert’s son.
3. Leroy is Rupert’s son (probably).
4. Rupert is Leroy’s father (most likely).

That’s a grand total of six relationships from two just pieces of information.

Now let’s say that our paths cross again at the psychology supply store where I introduce
you to my mother, Consuela, and my niece, Miranda. Once again, I’ve given you two
facts:

1. Consuela is my mother
2. Miranda is my niece

Your mind will combine them with what you already know, and look at all the
relationships it will derive without being directly taught.

1. Consuela is my brother’s mother.

2. Miranda is my brother’s daughter.
3. Rupert is Miranda’s grandfather.
4. … and so on.

You have now derived several new relationships from two measly pieces of
information. Now we’re framing relationally, baby!

You may have noticed that there are assumptions involved. Maybe Rupert and Consuela
were never married, or maybe Miranda is not Leroy’s daughter. Relational framing is
prone to certain types of errors that can affect mental health. We’ll come back to that. All
things considered, however, the ability to derive relationships is an immeasurable
cognitive advantage.

This type of behavior is unique to humans. From an early age, we are shown multiple
examples of the same types of relationships until we learn how to recognize them on our
own. After viewing enough trials, we learn that an uncle-niece relationship is the same
from one family to the next. We also learn how to apply bi-directionality in relationships.
 The advantages are incalculable. For example, frames and bi-directionality make family
reunions easy for us to comprehend. If you’ve ever seen a family reunion among non-
verbal animals, you now what I mean. It’s chaos.

A Gaggle of Frames

Familial relations are just one minor example of relational framing. We do it with scads of
relationships that have nothing to do with bloodlines:

 Same and different

 Faster and slower
 Bigger and smaller
 Worse and better
 Earlier and later
 Closer and further
 Mine and yours
 Here and there
 …and so on.

Let’s take a look at one. If I tell you that I can run faster than my father, and Miranda can
run faster than me, you will automatically discern that Miranda is faster than my father
and my father is slower than Miranda.

Now, you may be saying “but Shawn, animals can discern things like faster and slower,
otherwise cheetahs wouldn’t be able to spot the slowest runner in a herd, and the
cockroaches in my favorite restaurant wouldn’t run to the darkest corner when the lights
go on.”
You’re right, animals make distinctions. There are two important differences between the
way humans make these distinctions and the way non-verbal critters do it.

The first, as we’ve been discussing, is the human ability to derive relationships that aren’t
obvious (e.g., we figure out that Miranda is faster than my father without being shown or
told directly). When a cheetah locates the slowest animal in a herd, she is doing so by
making direct comparisons at that time and place. The entire herd is present and no
imagination is required.

Which brings us to the second difference. We humans can make symbolic comparisons.
For example, we can comprehend that a dime has a higher value than a nickel even
though a nickel is larger and weighs more. That, my friends, is a feat that your average
cheetah will never accomplish. How would she carry change, anyway? The jingling would
scare off her prey. Symbolism (and words are merely symbols) is one of the crown jewels
of human cognition.

Symbols are also arbitrary. The reason we call this thing in front of you a “computer” is
because we all agree to call it that. The reason a nickel is less valuable than a dime,
despite its obvious size and weight advantage, is that we agree on it. As arbitrary as they
are, symbols are huge time-savers. Saying “please pass the salt” is much easier than
pantomime.

Yep, we’re relationship-deriving, arbitrary symbol-using machines, and we just cannot

resist using them on ourselves. That’s where relational framing can get us into trouble,
mental-health-wise.

You Derive Me Crazy

Here’s another way in which humans use symbols that animals cannot: we can attach
emotional content to thoughts, symbols, and memories, thanks to our ability to see bi-
directionality in relationships.

Here’s what I mean. Say, for example, I take my cat to the veterinarian, who gives her a
shot of medicine. Cats hate shots, and so the next time I show her a hypodermic needle,
she will resist and show signs of distress. She might shiver and howl, and her little heart
will pound in her chest. Because she remembers the pain it caused, she will do whatever
she can to get away from that needle before it strikes again.

When she responds that way, we know that the cat has associated the needle with painful
shots. Humans operate the same way in the presence of a thing that has caused pain
before. Nothing extraordinary there.
Here’s the interesting part. Animals can be trained to report whether they have
experienced a painful event (by pushing a lever, for example). When they do so, there are
no signs of distress. They don’t howl and their hearts don’t pound. Even though they are
remembering pain, they are as calm as if they were contemplating a sunny day.

A human, on the other hand, will show signs of distress when describing a past, painful
experience.

Sometimes the memory of a painful event can evoke more distress than the actual event
did. Sometimes, an imagined event can cause distress even though the person has never
experienced it. If you’ve ever worried about your own death, you know what I mean.
This is all due to the bi-directionality in language. Just as the word “banana” can evoke
the image of a banana, so can “needle” evoke distress. The word “needle,” the object,
and the memory of the pain it caused are mentally connected, and each one automatically
evokes the other two. The three are said to be in a frame of coordination.

And so, we can experience distress even when we are only imagining a painful thing. If
we’re not careful, we can make things worse by attaching other words to the painful
event. For instance, one way of avoiding the distress caused by the thought of a needle is
to replace that thought with something pleasant – say, a banana split.

Let’s suppose that the next time I get a shot, I try to distract myself by thinking “banana
split, banana split, banana split.” If I’m able to distract myself sufficiently that I don’t
experience the pain at all, then the strategy might work.

Unfortunately, that approach can backfire because I know that I’m thinking of a banana
split in order to avoid thinking of needles. I’m not a dummy, after all, and I’m not going to
be fooled so easily (especially by me). Banana splits may then come to remind me of
needles, which in turn causes distress. I have brought banana splits into the frame of
coordination with “needle” and now both symbols are related to distress. If I try to
avoid that pain by thinking of something else, I’ve just expanded the network even
further.
This is the paradox of pain-avoidance strategies: in trying to prevent pain, more and more
things can become reminders of the pain we are trying to avoid. The problem can become
even worse when the pain we hope to avoid comes from the inside, like feelings of
anxiety, depression, or unpleasant thoughts about ourselves.

Take anxiety. (Not literally.) It’s easy to avoid objects that scare us, like needles,
elevators, or airplanes: just stay away from them. But when the thing we want to avoid
comes from the inside, we can’t just walk away. Anyone who has ever had a panic attack,
for example, will quickly learn to avoid having another one. They’re awful.

What sensations are associated with panic? Maybe a racing heart, or dizziness, or an
upset stomach, among many other things. Thanks to bi-directionality, physical
sensations can enter a frame of coordination with “panic attack” and so we can learn to
avoid them.

It doesn’t end there. Anything that causes such physical sensations can enter a frame of
coordination with “panic” and “nervousness.” If contact with the in-laws causes a racing
heart, that can summon the idea of panic, which is to be avoided. We can therefore learn
to avoid contact with the in-laws.
You can see how this would progress. As ideas enter a frame of coordination with “panic”
then the specter of panic gets larger and larger while a person’s world gets smaller and
smaller as they avoid an increasing number of things. Since the pain comes from inside,
not the outside world, a person can’t just walk away from it, and so it grows. This is the
very definition of a vicious cycle.

This is most assuredly not a complete model of panic, it is just one sloppy example. The
list of thoughts, feelings, and ideas we can incorporate into a counterproductive
avoidance strategy is endless, and we haven’t even begun to consider the effects of
biology, personal history, social context, and contingencies from the outside world.

Language Is a Two-Edged Sword

Wilson et al. (2001) summed up the trap of language wonderfully:

“Thus comes the paradox that a species that has by far the fewest contacts with direct
sources of pain… through language is able to suffer with a degree of intensity, constancy and
pervasiveness that is literally unimaginable in the nonhuman world. Because of [bi-
directionality], we can judge ourselves and find ourselves to be wanting; we can imagine
ideals and find the present to be unacceptable by comparison; we can reconstruct the past;
we can worry about imagined futures; we can suffer with the knowledge that we will die.”

Language is obviously not the only thing that separates us from other animals, but it is
one of the most easily quantified. The same words and symbols that have helped us
conquer the world seem to bring a kind of pain that only humans can experience.

RFT is a far-cry from the old communication models to which most of us have become
accustomed, and this little essay falls far short of capturing the theory’s richness.

Think of this as a dried up little hors d’oeuvre before the empirical smorgasbord. If I’ve
piqued your interest, you should next set aside a couple of hours for Eric Fox’s most
excellent RFT tutorial. Then, if you’re feeling brave, you might tackle the book Relational
Frame Theory: A Post-Skinnerian Account of Human Language and Cognition. (Try not to
read the whole thing in one night.)

-IS

Hey there, are you curious to know more about applying

mindfulness and behavioral theory in real-life, without the heavy jargon? Check out The
User’s Guide to the Human Mind!