Received: 26 June 2016 Revised: 29 November 2016 Accepted: 26 April 2017

DOI: 10.1111/phc3.12427

ARTICLE

The Future of Cognitive Neuroscience? Reverse

Inference in Focus
Marco J. Nathan1 | Guillermo Del Pinal2

1
University of Denver
2
Leibniz Center General Linguistics (ZAS)
Correspondence
Marco J. Nathan, Department of Philosophy,
University of Denver, 264 Sturm Hall, 2000 E.
Asbury Avenue, Denver 80208, Colorado,
USA.
Email: marco.nathan@du.edu
Guillermo Del Pinal, Leibniz‐Zentrum
Allgemeine Sprachwissenschaft (ZAS),
Schuetzenstr. 18, D‐10117, Berlin.
Email: ged2102@columbia.edu
Abstract
This article presents and discusses one of the most prominent infer-
ential strategies currently employed in cognitive neuropsychology,
namely, reverse inference. Simply put, this is the practice of inferring,
in the context of experimental tasks, the engagement of cognitive
processes from locations or patterns of neural activation. This tech-
nique is notoriously controversial because, critics argue, it presup-
poses the problematic assumption that neural areas are
functionally selective. We proceed as follows. We begin by intro-
ducing the basic structure of traditional “location‐based” reverse
inference (§1) and discuss the influential lack of selectivity objection
(§2). Next, we rehearse various ways of responding to this challenge
and provide some reasons for cautious optimism (§3). The second
part of the essay presents a more recent development: “pattern‐
decoding reverse inference” (§4). This inferential strategy, we main-
tain, provides an even more convincing response to the lack of
selectivity charge. Due to this and other methodological advan-
tages, it is now a prominent component in the toolbox of cognitive
neuropsychology (§5). Finally, we conclude by drawing some impli-
cations for philosophy of science and philosophy of mind (§6).

1 | WHAT IS REVERSE INFERENCE?

In order to illustrate reverse inference, let us begin by presenting its basic structure. Consider a psychological general-
ization G describing how human beings (tend to) behave while performing a certain task Z. Assume that we have an array
of competing cognitive processes M1,…,Mn all of which could, in principle, explain why human beings behave according
to G. How do we determine which, if any, of the Mis provides the more plausible psychological explanation of G?
Reverse inference can be used to bring neuroscientific evidence to bear on this question via an argument of the follow-
ing form, where P1, P2, and P3 are premises and C is the conclusion. For the sake of simplicity, let us assume that there are
only two Mis—call them “M” and “M*”—and let us focus on one key cognitive subprocess mj underlying each of the Mis.

(P1) M is (partly) constituted by cognitive subprocess m1; M* is (partly) constituted by cognitive subprocess m*1.
(P2) Cognitive subprocess m1 is associated with activation in brain region n1. Subprocess m*1 is associated with acti-
vation in brain region n*1.

Philosophy Compass. 2017;12:e12427. wileyonlinelibrary.com/journal/phc3 © 2017 The Author(s) 1 of 11

https://doi.org/10.1111/phc3.12427 Philosophy Compass © 2017 John Wiley & Sons Ltd
2 of 11 NATHAN AND DEL PINAL

(P3) In a neuroimaging experiment conducted while subjects are performing task Z, we observe differential
activation in n1 but not in n*1.
(C) P2 and P3 suggest that m1 is more likely engaged in Z than m*1. Together with P, it follows that M is more likely
engaged in Z than M*.

P1 tells us that there are two competing psychological hypotheses, M and M*, which are incompatible; they cannot
both be the correct and exhaustive explanation of G because they posit different underlying cognitive subprocesses,
m1 and m*1. P2 states that m1 and m*1 are associated with distinct regions of the brain, namely, n1 and n*1. Following
an established convention, we shall refer to linking principles, which map properties across levels as “bridge laws.” In
P3, we observe differential activation in n1 but not in n*1, in the context of a neuroimaging experiment (typically, an
fMRI scan), where subjects are performing a specific task Z. Putting all these pieces together, the final step C con-
cludes that we now have evidence in favor of the engagement of m1 over m*1, which, thereby, supports M over M*
as the more plausible explanation of G. We should emphasize that C does not follow deductively from P1–P3. The
argument is explicitly inductive: the truth of the premises is supposed to provide substantial, albeit defeasible,
evidence for the conclusion. Given that bridge laws here associate cognitive processes with specific areas of the brain,
let us call this kind of argument “location‐based reverse inference” (LRI).
To illustrate this abstract scheme with a well‐known example from moral psychology, consider two competing
explanations of why people react differently to “impersonal” versus “personal” moral dilemmas. In the famous “trolley
problems,” subjects tend to be more consequentialist in impersonal “switch‐like” scenarios and more deontological in
personal “footbridge‐like” scenarios (Greene, Sommerville, Nystrom, Darley, & Cohen, 2001). This corresponds to G
above. The first explanation posits a conflict between rules and negative emotions (M); the second one posits a con-
flict between different kinds of rules (M*). Let m1 represent negative emotions. Since negative emotions tend to acti-
vate neural areas such as the amygdala, let n1 stand in for this region of the brain. In turn, let m*1 represent rule‐based
reasoning, which has been associated with activation in areas such as the dorsolateral prefrontal cortex (n*1). Now,
suppose that, in the context of a specific task, say, responding to a “personal” moral dilemma like the footbridge
scenario—where a subject considers pushing a corpulent person on the tracks to save five innocent bystanders—we
find differential activation of the amygdala (n1) and not of the dorsolateral prefrontal cortex (n*1). This provides pre-
liminary evidence for the engagement of negative emotions (m1) over a conflict between rules (m*1) and, conse-
quently, for cognitive explanation M over the alternative M* (for a detailed discussion, see Klein, 2011; Greene, 2013).
This, in essence, is an LRI. Despite its intuitiveness and prima facie plausibility, this inferential strategy has been
severely criticized, and as a result, various scientists and philosophers have become wary of its use in cognitive
neuropsychology. What exactly is the problem?

2 | T HE L A C K O F SE LE C T I V I T Y O B J E C T I O N

Although there are various methodological worries concerning LRI (for an overview, see Del Pinal & Nathan, 2013),
here we focus on what is, arguably, the most pressing and influential one: the lack of selectivity objection.
As several authors have pointed out, the plausibility of a reverse inference depends on the degree of selectivity of
the relevant brain regions (Coltheart, 2013; Harrison, 2008; Henson, 2005; Legrenzi & Umiltà, 2011; Miller, 2008;
Phelps & Delgado, 2009; Poldrack, 2006; Ross, 2008; Uttal, 2002). To wit, suppose that, as stated in P2, the engage-
ment of cognitive process m1 is associated with neural area n1. This bridge law, critics argue, allows one to derive the
engagement of m1 from the activation of n1 only provided that n1 activates for the cognitive process of interest—in
this case, m1—and no other. This is a problem because there is a widespread consensus among cognitive neurosci-
entists that very few brain regions, if any, are maximally selective in the sense just described. For instance, the amyg-
dala does indeed process negative emotions; however, it also underlies a host of different cognitive processes,
including the perception of odor intensity, sexually arousing stimuli, trust from faces, the processing of faces from
NATHAN AND DEL PINAL 3 of 11

other races, and the perception of biological motion and sharp contour (Phelps, 2006; Phelps & Delgado, 2009).
Hence, it would seem that inferring the engagement of negative emotions from amygdala activation is actually inva-
lid. A similar point could be raised about many other LRIs.
Thus conceived, however, the objection misses the mark. Most researchers who employ reverse inference are, of
course, aware that brain regions typically underlie a variety of cognitive functions and, hence, are not maximally selec-
tive. All this means is that inferences from differential neural activation to cognitive function fall short of absolute
certainty. But this is hardly a concern, because, as emphasized above, LRI was never intended to be a deductive
inference in the first place.
Things, however, are not that simple. Once we acknowledge that reverse inferences are inherently probabilistic, it
becomes crucial to ask to what extent the truth of the premises should increase our confidence in the truth of the
conclusion. And herein lies the problem. The more serious version of the lack of selectivity objection is that, given
the multi‐functionality of most brain regions of interest, the inductive validity of many LRIs could turn out to be unac-
ceptably weak.
In order to clarify the worry, it is useful to rephrase the issue in simple Bayesian terms. As noted by Poldrack
(2006), the confidence that one should place in a specific reverse inference is determined by the conditional probabil-
ity that cognitive process m1 is engaged given neural activation n1. This value can be calculated via a straightforward
application of Bayes's theorem:

Pðm1 jn1 Þ ¼ Pðn1 jm1 ÞPðm1 Þ=Pðn1 jm1 ÞPðm1 Þ þ Pðn1 j¬m1 ÞPð¬m1 Þ

Thus formulated, the equation clearly shows that the degree of belief in a reverse inference—that is, the proba-
bility P(m1|n1) that a certain cognitive process m1 is engaged, given that a neural region n1 is activated—depends on
the selectivity of the neural response, that is, the ratio of the process‐specific activation P(n1|m1) to the overall likeli-
hood of activation in that area across all tasks that do not involve m1: P(n1|¬m1). For readers unfamiliar with Bayes's
theorem, what this means, in our context, is that the activation of brain area n1 provides positive evidence for the
engagement of a psychological subprocess m1 (within a specific task Z) if and only if the probability that the neural
region is activated, given the engagement of the cognitive process under scrutiny (n1|m1) is greater than the probabil-
ity that this same neural region is activated, given that the relevant cognitive process is not engaged (n1|¬m1).
We are now in a position to see why LRIs are so controversial. The non‐selective nature of most brain regions
is not (and should not) be disputed, as emphasized by the growing scientific and philosophical literature on multi‐
functional brain areas (Anderson, 2010; Burnston, 2016; McCaffrey, 2015; Rathkopf, 2013). As mentioned above,
areas such as the amygdala underlie an entire host of different cognitive processes. Due to this multi‐functionality,
the probability n1|m1 that this neural area is activated, given that the subject is processing negative emotions, could
turn out to be smaller than the probability n1|¬m1 that the amygdala is activated given that the subject is not
processing negative emotions. In short, the lack of selectivity objection has nothing to do with the (in)validity of
LRI—pace Popper, most scientific inferences are non‐deductive. The nagging concern is that, as just presented,
most LRIs seem to provide, at best, only weak evidence to discriminate among competing cognitive hypotheses.
Much neuropsychology, the objection runs, is relying on an inferential strategy that seems to fail by its own
standards.

3 | ADDRESSING LACK OF SELECTIVITY

There are two broad strategies for addressing how the multi functionality of the brain reduces the selectivity of
psycho neural bridge laws. One strategy, “cognitive ontology revision,” is to acknowledge that brain regions are indeed
non‐selective when characterized in terms of traditional psychological functions. However, the suggestion runs, it is
possible to identify more selective brain regions by re‐describing these functions at a higher level of abstraction (Price
& Friston, 2005). In general, in order to obtain systematic psycho‐neural mappings, we need to revise our cognitive
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ontologies, that is, devise new cognitive kinds (Anderson, 2010, 2015; Rathkopf, 2013). Although a comprehensive
discussion of cognitive ontologies transcends the scope of this paper, one concern with this strategy is that the more
abstract the cognitive functions used in our mapping principles, the less likely it is that we can use them to
discriminate among competing cognitive theories (Klein, 2012). Since our main goal here is to address whether reverse
inference can be used to test cognitive theories, as they are delivered to us by current psychology, a whole‐scale
revision of cognitive ontology should only be considered as a last resort. For this reason, we shall focus on the second
broad strategy to address multi‐functionality, which consists in offering various refinements of the structure of bridge
laws, for example, by making them context sensitive, or of the employment of these bridge laws, for example, by
making them context‐sensitive. Alternatively, one could revise the employment of these bridge laws, for example,
by restricting their usage to comparative claims.
It is useful to divide the implementations of this second strategy into three categories. First, there is a family of
Bayesian responses. According to these approaches, the apparent persuasiveness of the selectivity objection is due
to a subtle misconstrual of the way in which Bayes's theorem should be applied in reverse inference. The basic
observation, proposed independently by Hutzler (2014) and Del Pinal and Nathan (2013), is that the evidence used
in reverse inferences should explicitly incorporate the task under consideration. In what follows, we shall focus on
our variant (for a discussion of the differences and comparative (dis)advantages of each view, see Del Pinal & Nathan,
2013). Simply put, the suggestion is to take as the basic units of evidence not simply instances of neural activation in
certain locations but rather ordered pairs of neural activation and kinds of tasks, <ni,Zj>:

Pðm1 j<n1 ; Z>Þ ¼ Pð<n1 ; Z>jm1 ÞPðm1 Þ=Pð<n1 ; Z>jm1 ÞPðm1 Þ þ Pð<n1 ; Z>j¬m1 ÞPð¬m1 Þ

The key difference with respect to the original Bayesian account is that the evidence on which we are now
conditionalizing is not just differential activation in a brain region but, rather, differential activation in a particular kind
of task. This tweak mitigates concerns due to lack of selectivity, as it provides more selective and context‐dependent
bridge laws. To illustrate, consider the above example from moral psychology. In our original schematic presentation
of LRI, the involvement of negative emotions in a “personal” moral decision‐making task Z was inferred merely on the
evidence of differential activation in the amygdala. The problem, as we saw, is that many other kinds of cognitive pro-
cesses could also activate the amygdala, making P(¬m1|n1) troublesomely high. The revised Bayesian equation over-
comes this problem by forcing us to only consider cognitive processes relevant to the task at hand. For example,
given the stimuli used in a typical decision‐making experiment, we would usually be able to eliminate the possibility
that the amygdala is engaged in olfactory processing, biological motion, perception of faces from other races, and sex-
ually arousing stimuli, among others. It follows that, in general, the value of P(¬m1| < n1,Z>) will be lower than the value
of P(¬m1|n1). Consequently, the inductive validity of the reverse inference turns out to be much higher than we ini-
tially thought.
A second family of responses, which also replies to the lack of selectivity objection by revising the structure of
bridge laws, involves reformulating reverse inference in likelihoodist terms (Machery, 2014). In a likelihoodist frame-
work, one only compares the hypotheses which are under dispute. This approach treats reverse inference as an inher-
ently comparative technique that tells us which among the competing hypotheses is favored by some neural evidence.
We can capture the proposal, more formally, with the following inequality:

Pðm1 jn1 Þ>Pðm2 jn1 Þ↔Pðn1 jm1 Þ>Pðn1 jm2 Þ

This reformulation highlights one key advantage of the likelihoodist approach, namely, that the relevant likelihoods
can be calculated without having to determine the base rates of activation of the brain regions of interest. This is
important because the alleged lack of selectivity affects the strength of reverse inferences via the base rates. At
the same time, this advantage comes at a cost, as evidence now becomes purely comparative. The likelihoodist
approach allows us to determine that one hypothesis makes the data more likely than another. It tells us which
hypothesis is “better,” but not which one, if any, is “correct” (Poldrack, 2013; for a response, see Machery, 2014).1
NATHAN AND DEL PINAL 5 of 11

A third and final family of responses to multi‐functionality is to switch the focus to networks of regions, which are
arguably more selective than individual regions (Glymour & Hanson, 2016; Klein, 2012; Poldrack, 2011). The general
idea is that, instead of associating each cognitive process with a particular area of the brain, as in step P2 of the LRI
scheme in §1 above, one should link cognitive processes to multidimensional patterns of neural activation. Extant pro-
posals range from causal graphs over regions of interest to multivariate voxel patterns. Yet what is common to all
these approaches is the claim that reformulating bridge laws along these lines results in more selective psycho‐neural
bridge laws. Because the focus on multivariate networks constitutes a more radical departure from “traditional,” uni-
variate LRI, we present and discuss a promising version of this strategy in §4.
In sum, although the lack of selectivity objection raises an important methodological difficulty for reverse infer-
ence, promising responses are available. Hence, the claim that virtually nothing can be learned about cognition from
studying the brain (Coltheart, 2004; Harley, 2004; Uttal, 2001; Van Orden & Paap, 1997) is overly pessimistic (Roskies,
2009). At the same time none of these strategies for addressing lack of selectivity is uncontroversial. In particular,
these proposals face a substantial challenge. As captured in P2, LRIs can only be applied if we have adequate bridge
laws. Typically, this means that we will have to consult meta‐analyses of linking studies over the brain regions of inter-
est. To wit, in the context of our example, we still need to consult independent linking studies to determine the reliabil-
ity of the association between the amygdala and negative emotions. Furthermore, at least in Bayesian approaches, we
also need to know which other cognitive processes have been associated with the amygdala, even if conditionalizing
by the task will allow us to dismiss some of them. In principle, this dependence on meta‐analysis and independent
linking studies that try to establish reliable bridge laws is not an insurmountable challenge. In practice, however, it
can severely limit the applicability of LRIs, even when scrupulously conducted. In the second part of this essay, we
present and discuss a version of the third family of responses that, we maintain, overcomes this problem. As we show,
such strategy provides a more promising technique to discriminate between competing cognitive‐level hypotheses.

4 | PATTERN‐DECODING REVERSE INFERENCE

Scientists and philosophers often talk about “reverse inference” tout court. However, it is crucial to distinguish
between two types of reverse inference (Del Pinal & Nathan, 2017). In the first part of this article, we discussed
LRI, where cognitive processes are inferred from single locations of neural activation. As we argued in §3, although
LRI, when conducted correctly, is a reliable inductive inference, its range is constrained by its reliance on indepen-
dently established bridge laws to particular locations of activation. We now turn to a different kind of reverse infer-
ence, which employs links to multivariate patterns of neural activation instead of links to particular locations and uses
machine‐learning decoding techniques to establish the relevant bridge laws from those complex patterns to cognitive
functions (Poldrack, 2011). We maintain that these “pattern‐decoding reverse inferences” (PRIs) can overcome the
challenge of determining the reliability of bridge laws and, as a result, promise to be a more useful technique for
discriminating among competing cognitive‐level hypotheses. Although PRIs are rapidly gaining popularity in cognitive
neuroscience, this technique is still largely ignored in critical and methodological discussions of reverse inference.
To illustrate PRI, consider the general structure for LRI presented at the outset. Premise P2 postulated bridge laws
that associate cognitive processes (mis) with particular brain regions (nis). To schematize PRI, we replace P2 with a prin-
ciple P2′ that associates cognitive processes with multi‐dimensional patterns, v⃗is, which for simplicity we will think of
as multi‐voxel patterns.2 Importantly, these associations are now computed by a pattern classifier C, which is a
machine‐learning algorithm that can learn how to reliably map multi‐voxel patterns to cognitive processes. We can
now state the scheme for a typical PRI where, again, the question is which of M or M* is the best explanation for
the cognitive processes underlying task Z.

(P1) M is (partly) constituted by cognitive process m1; M* is (partly) constituted by cognitive process m*1.
(P2′) Cognitive process m1 is associated by a classifier C with an equivalence class of multi‐voxel patterns v⃗; m* is
associated by C with a class of multi‐voxel patterns v⃗*1. 3
6 of 11 NATHAN AND DEL PINAL

(P3′) In a neuroimaging experiment conducted while subjects are performing task Z, we obtain a multi‐voxel pattern
v⃗, which is classified by C as belonging to v⃗ as opposed to v⃗*1.
(C) P2′ and P3′ suggest that m1 is more likely engaged in Z than m*1. Together with P1, it follows that M is more likely
engaged in Z than M*.

The scheme for PRIs is analogous to that for LRIs. The crucial difference lies in the switch from P2 and P3 to P2′ and
P3′. Whereas P2 associates each cognitive process with a location of neural activation, P2′ associates each process,
using the classifier C, with equivalence classes of multi‐dimensional patterns, in this case, multi‐voxel patterns. Further-
more, the reverse inference in P3′ is performed by the classifier C. As we will now see, bridge laws mapping cognitive
processes with multi‐voxel patterns are generally quite selective. In addition, our confidence in these links can be
computed from the reliability of the classifier C and, hence, does not rely on independent linking studies.
To illustrate the technique in question let us consider a PRI case study, which bears on debates regarding “dual
process models” of recognition memory (Norman, Quamme, & Newman, 2009). The task concerns our capacity to
reliably distinguish between old (previously encountered) and novel items. According to one theory (“RR”), recognition
decisions can draw on two distinct information processes: (a) recollection of specific details of old events and (b) famil-
iarity feelings, which are nonspecific. On this view, recollection is used by default, and familiarity is used to make
recognition decisions only when specific information is not available. According to the competing theory (“RF”), there
is no default: subjects employ contextual cues to decide which information to use in a given recognition task. Specific
information can be available but ignored.
To test these hypotheses, classifiers are trained to determine the specific multi‐voxel patterns associated with rec-
ollection and familiarity processes. This corresponds to step P2′ in our scheme above. Classifiers are trained in tasks
where experimenters are able to control which cognitive process is engaged. Norman and colleagues exposed subjects
to singular and plural words, such as “shoe” and “shoes.” These subjects were then scanned while performing recogni-
tion tasks involving previously encountered items (e.g., a shoe) and unrelated lures (e.g., a bicycle). The recognition
tasks were divided into two disjoint sets: recollection blocks and familiarity blocks. In recollection blocks, subjects were
instructed to recall specific details of the mental image formed during the study phase and to only answer “yes” if they
were successful in that recollection. In familiarity blocks, subjects were instructed to only answer “yes” if they found the
word familiar and to ignore any details they might recollect from the study phase. After a training phase, classifiers were
able to reliably determine whether a given multi‐voxel pattern was an instance of a recollection or familiarity block.
A key difference between PRI from LRI is that, in the former, the reliability of the classifiers can be established
within the experiment. In terms of our schemes, what this means is that although our confidence in the bridge laws
used in LRI's P2 depends on meta‐analyses, or often simply on the judgment of specialists, in the case of PRI's corre-
sponding premise P2′, the reliability of classifiers can be established experimentally. In the recognition study of Nor-
man et al. (2009), this was done by saving a subset of the recollection and familiarity blocks for later testing (so that
they are not used at the “training stage”) and then determining the rate at which the classifier correctly categorizes the
corresponding neural patterns. This phase of the study, where experimenters can control which process is engaged,
provides the links between recollection, familiarity, and their underlying multi‐voxel patterns. The resulting classifier
can then be used to test competing hypotheses RR and RF in trials were the engagement of cognitive processes can-
not be controlled.
In this final phase of the study, which corresponds to step P3′ in our scheme, subjects were scanned while being
exposed to a mixture of previously observed items (“shoe” and “ball”), unrelated lures (“horse” and “box”) and
previously un‐observed switch‐plurality lures (“shoes and balls”). The subjects' task was to determine whether the
words they encountered were “old” or “new.” To test the competing theories, experimenters focused on the subset
of tested items for which subjects made correct recognition decisions. Note that, because these are cases where both
recollection and familiarity information was available to subjects, RR and RF make different predictions. According to
RR, the classifier should categorize the corresponding voxel patterns as recollections patterns, because this is the
predicted default. RF, in contrast, predicts a more variable classification, involving at least some instances of familiarity
NATHAN AND DEL PINAL 7 of 11

patterns, given that neither pattern should be used by default. The results support RF over RR (Norman et al., 2009).
When both types of information are available, various contextual cues determine whether recollection or familiarity is
used as the basis of a recognition decision. In other words, contextual cues determine whether, according to the
classifier, the multi‐voxel patterns underlying recognition decisions resemble more unambiguous recollection or
familiarity patterns.

5 | ADVANTAGES AND NEW CHALLENGES

PRI has substantial methodological advantages over LRI (Del Pinal & Nathan, 2017). In this section, we focus on two
advantages and briefly discuss some interesting challenges confronting PRI.
The first advantage of PRI is that, as illustrated by the recognition studies discussed in §4, the reliability of
classifiers can be determined within a phase of the same experiment in which they are employed. To appreciate
the significance of this feature, recall that successful reverse inferences depend on the availability of accurate bridge
laws. In the case of LRI, we have seen that establishing the relevant bridge laws has proven very challenging, largely
because of the lack of selectivity of the relevant brain regions and the difficulty of assessing their reliability. In
contrast, in a PRI, experimenters can save (i.e., not use for training) trials in which they control the engagement of
the cognitive processes of interest, say m1 and m*1, and then test the accuracy with which the classifier C maps the
multi‐voxel pattern obtained in each type of trial to the correct cognitive processes. C is then used to map the neural
data obtained in Z—the task whose cognitive structure is under dispute—to m1 or m*1. This way, because C's accuracy
is known, experimenters can formally quantify their confidence in the reverse inference.
In some cognitive domains, the accuracy of classifiers can be remarkably high (Tong & Pratte, 2012). Still, a key
challenge arises: can we rely on the reliability estimate of classifiers obtained from a testing phase, in which
experimenters control the engagement of cognitive processes, to target tasks in which experimenters do not know
which cognitive processes are engaged? The latter tasks inevitably involve some variation relative to training tasks.
Although this is still an open challenge, recent studies suggest that classifiers can perform well under task variations.
For example, in a study in which classifiers were trained to predict phonemes, they were still successful when
presented with data from novel voices not used in the training phase (Formisano, De, Bonte, & Goebel, 2008). In a
study of visual working memory, classifiers were trained on data elicited by unattended gratings and then tested on
whether they could also predict which of two orientations was maintained on working memory when subjects were
viewing a blank screen. Their reliability was maintained despite the substantial variation in stimuli modality and tasks
(Harrison & Tong, 2009).4
A second advantage of PRI is that, as captured in P2′, classifiers do not presuppose the “functional localizability” of
cognitive processes in specific neural regions. As mentioned in §3, the lack of selectivity objection is based on the
reasonable view that brain regions of interest are multi‐functional. Critics who raise this objection also tend to believe
that most cognitive processes of interest to psychologists are spread across the brain (Uttal, 2001). Crucially, however,
classifiers can employ multi‐voxel patterns, which are distributed across traditional brain regions of interest. Hence,
the use of PRI is compatible with the possibility that the sources from which to decode cognitive processes are widely
distributed patterns. From the perspective of PRI, the question of the degree of functional selectivity of the brain
becomes an empirical question, which can be addressed, for each kind of cognitive process, by observing the neural
distribution of the patterns used by reliable classifiers.5
Admittedly, the use of machine‐learning techniques raises new and important challenges. For example, some
classifiers are fairly local, in the sense that they only work for the participants they were trained on and thus cannot
support between‐subject reverse inference (Kaplan & Meyer, 2012). Furthermore, the increased sensitivity of
multivariate techniques does not, by itself, overcome all problems of task‐design faced by traditional studies. Indeed,
given the power of classifiers to learn from any data (including the opportunistic use of unknown confounds), careful
experimental design becomes, if anything, even more important (Todd, Nystrom, & Cohen, 2013). In sum, while these
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issues present significant challenges, we maintain that PRI constitutes a significant improvement over LRI, largely due
to considerable degree of selectivity between cognitive functions and patterns of neural activation, and the availability
of machine‐learning techniques, which can decode functions from such patterns.

6 | P H I L OSO P H I CA L I M P L I C A TI O N S

We conclude our overview of reverse inference by discussing some general implications for the philosophy of science
and the philosophy of mind.
First, it is sometimes claimed that reverse inference presupposes an unreasonably strong reductionistic stance
and, in doing so, falls prey to the famous “multiple‐realizability” argument. Simply put, reverse inference, of both
the LRI and PRI kind, requires bridge laws that map properties across domains. This should be obvious from the
schemes presented above. Unless the target cognitive processes are each associated with a location or pattern of
neural activation, reverse inference does not even take off the ground. However, some philosophers have argued that
the natural kinds of a “higher” science—that is, the predicates that fall under laws and counterfactual‐supporting
generalizations of a scientific domain—cannot, in general, be reduced to the kinds to a “lower” science. This is because
properties seldom correspond neatly across levels in the way supposedly required by bridge laws (Figdor, 2010;
Fodor, 1974).
We maintain that reverse inference does not presuppose any reductionist stance. Specifically, the application of
the multiple‐realizability objection to reverse inference stems from the failure to distinguish between different types
of bridge laws. This has a natural explanation. Philosophers have generally been concerned with reductive bridge laws,
which play a crucial role in classic accounts of theory reduction (Nagel, 1961) and still survive in more sophisticated
reductive—or partially reductive—frameworks (Fazekas, 2009; Glimcher, 2011). Yet as captured in P2 and P2′, the
bridge laws required for reverse inference are associative statements which, unlike their reductive counterparts, do
not presuppose any kind of identity—a priori, a posteriori, necessary, or contingent. Indeed, associative bridge laws
are so metaphysically uncommitted that they are also consistent with positions that reject token physicalism, as long
as the latter allows a systematic connection between mental and neural properties (Nathan & Del Pinal, 2016). In
short, the plausible assumption that the natural kinds of the special sciences are multiply‐realizable leaves reverse
inference completely unscathed (for a related argument, see Roskies, 2009).
Our analysis of reverse inference also addresses one of the oldest and most resilient objections against the use of
neuroscientific evidence in psychology, namely, the charge that neuroimaging presupposes a strong and objectionable
form of functional locationism (Coltheart, 2013; Fodor, 1999; Satel & Lilienfeld, 2013; Van Orden & Paap, 1997),
essentially turning cognitive neuropsychology into a “new phrenology” (Uttal, 2001). As noted, in the case of LRI,
the technique does assume that (at least some) subprocesses of cognitive functions can be localized in the brain.
However, when LRI is employed appropriately, these functional localizations are always relativized to the context
of a specific task. It should now become obvious why the objection misses the mark. Contrary to phrenological
assumptions, sophisticated reverse inferences do not presuppose or vindicate any one‐to‐one absolute mapping
between cognitive functions and neural locations. Still, if LRI were the only inferential technique available to neuro-
psychologists, then one could see why critics think that its widespread use betrays a belief in neo‐phrenological
assumptions. However, PRI is now part of the cognitive neuroscientist's toolbox. As we argued in §4, this technique
is applicable in cases where the neural implementation of cognitive processes is widely distributed, and hence, any
allegation of being a “new phrenology,” no matter how loose, misses the mark.
The final methodological implication that we discuss is, again, related to reductionism. One of the most influential
accounts of the psycho‐neural interface is due to Marr (1982). On this view, one begins to connect the cognitive and
neural levels by asking how the latter implements the former. This, however, requires that our cognitive hypotheses
have reached a relatively advanced algorithmic level of description, often referred to as “Marr level 2.” From this per-
spective, it is natural to assume that neuroscience matters for psychology only when our experimental aim is to
NATHAN AND DEL PINAL 9 of 11

determine how cognitive algorithms are neurally implemented. Our analysis of reverse inference shows that this inter-
pretation of Marr's influential framework is too restrictive, as it does not cover all the ways in which neuroscience can
inform psychology. Reverse inference, as presented here, is not directly concerned with how cognitive algorithms are
neurally implemented. At no point did we presuppose that the use of neuroimaging requires the availability of cogni-
tive hypotheses specified at an algorithmic level. Reverse inference aims to address an altogether different question,
namely, which cognitive process(es) are more or less likely to be engaged in certain tasks whose nature is under dis-
pute. Neuroscientific data can be fruitfully employed at every stage of cognitive theorizing, not merely when the algo-
rithmic structure of a psychological process has already been articulated.
In sum, regardless of your position with respect to the reductionism versus antireductionism philosophical
spectrum, the physicalism versus dualism debate, and other important issues regarding selectivity, modularity, and
locationism, you should accept that neuroscientific data can shed light on cognitive psychology. Reverse inference,
when properly conducted, is a promising way to do so. No matter where you stand, the significance of this debate
can hardly be overstated: whether and how neuroimaging can bear on psychological theories of higher cognition will
influence how studies of the mind will be approached and funded in aftermath of the “decade of the brain.”

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

The authors would like to express their gratitude to Edouard Machery and to an anonymous reviewer for constructive
comments on various versions of this article.

ENDNOTES
1
Glymour and Hanson (2016) criticize the likelihoodist strategy for a different reason, arguing that it is arbitrary, because one
could also compare pairs of hypotheses by their maximum, minimum, or average posterior probability.
2
One could also use other kinds of multidimensional structures—for example, Glymour and Hanson (2016) argue that some
cognitive processes can be reliably associated with connected graphs over coarser brain regions.
3
By “equivalence class,” we mean the class of multidimensional patterns that are grouped together by the pattern classifier
C. For simplicity, we assume here that C performs discrete classifications of the data onto either m1 or m1*.
4
Indeed, testing for this kind of robustness across stimuli/task variation is usually used to determine whether a given brain
region really does provide information about the target function (Tong & Pratte, 2012). Furthermore, various machine
learning techniques have been developed partly to tackle related problems, such as classifiers overfitting the training data.
For instance, overfitting is a bigger problem for classifiers based on simple neural network methods than for support vector
machines, which are specifically designed to avoid that problem (Poldrack, 2011).
5
To illustrate, some neuroscientists think that the hippocampus is the locus of spatial information processing and that the
perirhinal cortex processes individual item information. To test this view, classifiers can be trained to decode spatial and
item information from each of these regions, and their performance was used to determine which region carries what kind
of information. If in spatial tasks classifiers are more accurate when restricted to the hippocampus than when restricted to
the perirhinal cortex, this would indicate that the former is the locus of spatial processing. The results could also be graded.
The hippocampus might code detailed spatial information but also some impoverished item information, and the perirhinal
cortex might code detailed item information but also some impoverished spatial information. Using this logic, studies have
shown that the ventral temporal cortex carries sufficient information for classifiers to reliably distinguish between animate
and inanimate objects (Kriegeskorte, Mur, & Bandettini, 2008) and that the inferior parietal and occipitotemporal cortex—
but not as traditionally thought the premotor regions—carry information from which to decode concrete abstract
representations of actions such as “grabbing the cup” (Wurm & Lingnau, 2015).

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Marco J. Nathan is an assistant professor of Philosophy at the University of Denver. His research focuses on the
Philosophy of Science, with particular emphasis on topics in Molecular Biology, Neuroscience, Cognitive Psychol-
ogy, and Economics. His work has been published in several philosophical and scientific venues, and he is the co‐
editor of the collection Philosophy of Molecular Medicine: Foundational Issues in Theory and Practice (Routledge
2017).

Guillermo Del Pinal is an Alexander von Humboldt postdoctoral fellow at the Leibniz‐Zentrum Allgemeine
Sprachwissenschaft (ZAS) in Berlin. His research focuses on Philosophy of Language and Linguistics, and Philos-
ophy of Cognitive Science and Neuroscience. His work has been published in several journals in Philosophy, Lin-
guistics, and Cognitive Science.

How to cite this article: Nathan MJ, Del Pinal G. The Future of Cognitive Neuroscience? Reverse Inference in
Focus. Philosophy Compass. 2017;12:e12427. https://doi.org/10.1111/phc3.12427