The present study investigated differences in subjective and neural responses to social exclusion in adolescents who either had a stable accepted or a chronically rejected status across six elementary school grades. We first replicated previous findings, showing that a brief episode of social exclusion is distressing for adolescents (Gunther Moor et al.
2012; Sebastian et al.
2010) and that social exclusion is associated with activation in brain regions implicated in emotion processing and emotion regulation, such as the dorsal and ventral ACC, medial prefrontal cortex (mPFC), the striatum and vlPFC (Bolling et al.
2011; Gunther Moor et al.
2012; Masten et al.
2009; Sebastian et al.
2011). Our findings extend the literature by showing that differences in sustained patterns of peer group acceptance and peer group rejection during the elementary school period are associated with differential neural processing of social exclusion in adolescence. That is, chronically rejected adolescents showed, in comparison to stably accepted adolescents: 1) increased activation in the dACC when they were excluded, and 2) increased activation in the dACC and aPFC during incidental exclusion events in a social interaction in which they were included.
Childhood Peer Status and Self-Reported Distress After Exclusion
Our results show that a brief episode of exclusion in Cyberball results in immediate distress in the form of decreased mood and need satisfaction and that chronically rejected adolescents and stably accepted adolescents report similar levels of distress. Our results partially overlap with the results from a previous study that examined individual differences in subjective distress after receiving a video message from another child telling the participants that he/she did not want to play with them (Sandstrom et al.
2003). Consistent with our findings, Sandstrom et al. (
2003) found no differences in acute distress reported by accepted and rejected boys. However, their findings indicated that rejected girls reported higher levels of distress compared to accepted girls. Our sample was not large enough to test for such interactions between sex and peer status history in order to examine whether distress differed between chronically rejected and stably accepted girls. Future studies with larger samples could test whether individual differences in self-reported distress associated with a stable high or low peer status might be different for boys and girls.
Additionally, methodological differences between paradigms used to elicit rejection-related distress may account for differences in results. That is, the relatively mild rejection experience in Sandstrom et al. (
2003) study could have allowed more room for individual differences in responses compared to the Cyberball paradigm. That is, meta-analyses have shown that exclusion in the Cyberball paradigm very reliably induces distress (large effect sizes of exclusion in Cyberball on mood and need satisfaction; D’s between 1 and 2; Gerber and Wheeler
2009), but also that the self-reports of such distress seem to be less amenable to moderation by individual differences, such as the participant’s sex (Williams and Sommer
1997), their levels of loneliness (Wesselmann et al.
2012) or social anxiety (Zadro et al.
2006). Thus, the strength of the Cyberball paradigm (i.e., its ability to reliably induce distress) might also be a limitation when investigating individual differences. A milder or more ambiguous rejection experience might allow for more variability in responses, which could be related to individual differences such as peer status.
Childhood Peer Status and Neural Responses to Exclusion
The neuroimaging results show that neural responses to both social exclusion and incidental exclusion differ between adolescents who were chronically rejected and those who had a stable accepted during childhood. Compared to stably accepted adolescents, chronically rejected adolescents showed heightened dACC activity during social exclusion. Our findings are in line with previous work showing enhanced dACC activation during exclusion in adolescents who are more sensitive to rejection (Masten et al.
2009), adults with low self-esteem (Onoda et al.
2010), adults who perceived their daily social interactions to be less comforting and supportive (Eisenberger et al.
2007) and young adults who spent less time with friends during late adolescence (Masten et al.
2012). Combining these previous findings with our results suggest that chronically rejected adolescents show an enhanced neural response to exclusion that they share with people who are more sensitive to rejection, who have lower levels of self-esteem and who have less satisfying social relations.
What could the higher levels dACC activity during exclusion reflect? The ACC is implicated in a wide variety of cognitive and emotional processes including conflict monitoring (Botvinick et al.
2004), expectancy violation (Somerville et al.
2006), physical pain and other negative emotions (Shackman et al.
2011), reactions to being treated unfairly (Sanfey et al.
2003) and social exclusion (Eisenberger et al.
2003). It has been proposed that the ACC is central to a system involved in monitoring the extent to which autonomic/affective signals elicited by salient events interfere with goals or ongoing behavior and therefore require increased attention (Shenhav et al.
2013). Furthermore, it has been put forward that there is a functional dissociation between dorsal and ventral parts of the ACC (Somerville et al.
2006). That is, the dorsal ACC is connected with prefrontal, parietal and motor cortices, and is important for signaling conflict and integrating top-down and bottom-up processes (Shenhav et al.
2013). The ventral ACC is connected to regions involved in generating and processing affect, such as the amygdala, striatum, and anterior insula, and has been implicated in integrating emotional and motivational valence of stimuli (Somerville et al.
2006).
Chronically rejected and stably accepted adolescents did not show differences in ventral ACC activity, suggesting that exclusion is emotionally salient irrespective of childhood peer status. This notion was mirrored by the similarities in self-reported distress after exclusion. Thus, although it could be hypothesized that chronic exposure to negative peer experiences might desensitize children’s reactions to social exclusion, our findings suggest otherwise. Specifically, the finding that chronically rejected adolescents showed increased activation of the dACC compared to stably accepted adolescents suggests that a persistent low status among peers is associated with a neural signal possibly indicating increased conflict or salience associated with being excluded.
Notably, chronically rejected, compared to stably accepted adolescents, showed enhanced activity in dACC and aPFC in response to incidental exclusion, that is, events during which they did not receive the ball in an interaction in which they were overall included. Higher levels of activity in the dACC and aPFC during exclusion in Cyberball have been shown to be associated with higher levels of rejection sensitivity (Masten et al.
2009), which has been defined as “the disposition to defensively (i.e., anxiously or angrily) expect, readily perceive, and overreact to social rejection” (Downey et al.
1998, p. 1074). Enhanced neural responses to not receiving the ball in the inclusion game in brain regions previously linked to a greater sensitivity to rejection suggest that chronically rejected adolescents might be more sensitive to cues of potential exclusion than stably accepted adolescents. Taken together, these findings show that adolescents with a history of chronic rejection exhibit heightened neural responses to actual and incidental exclusion, which could be indicative of a hypersensitivity or hypervigilance to exclusion.
One possible mechanism accounting for this hypersensitivity could be that chronically rejected adolescents have been exposed to higher levels of negative peer treatment similar to the treatment in Cyberball (being ignored or excluded) than the stably accepted adolescents. Although peer group rejection has been found to be predictive for experiencing peer victimization, including relational victimization (e.g., being left out or excluded from peer activities) (Salmivalli and Isaacs
2005; van Lier and Koot
2010), there are large individual differences in the extent to which children with a rejected status are victimized; both in terms of frequency and severity (Boivin et al.
1995; Boulton
1999). Future studies should examine individual differences related to chronic exclusion/victimization using peer nominations of being excluded/victimized in a larger sample of chronically rejected adolescents. Such endeavors can shed light on the question of whether neural responses to social exclusion are particularly pronounced in adolescents who have been chronically excluded or victimized.
Limitations
Several limitations to the current study warrant consideration. First, although our study is the first demonstration of differences in neural responses to exclusion between adolescents with a history of stable peer acceptance and those with a history of chronic peer rejection, we cannot conclude that these differences are the result of their respective peer status histories. Although the more pronounced brain responses among chronically rejected adolescents could plausibly be attributed to their manifest social experiences, we cannot rule out that such differences were already present before elementary school and their emerging peer status. Future longitudinal studies investigating whether changes in peer status are linked to changes in brain response may shed more light into the question of direction of effects.
Second, our results are based on a comparison of two extreme groups on the outer ends of the social preference spectrum. Although a hypersensitivity to exclusion in adolescents with a history of rejection is highly consistent with both theoretical accounts of peer relations (Coie
1990; Ladd and Troop-Gordon
2003; Zakriski et al.
1997) and the development of rejection sensitivity (Downey et al.
1998; London et al.
2007), we cannot rule out the possibility that differences between the two groups are partly explained by a hyposensitivity to exclusion in the stably accepted adolescents. That is, a greater exposure to positive peer relations in the stably accepted group could have also had a dampening effect on neural responses to exclusion (Masten et al.
2012). Future research can inform this question by contrasting adolescents with a history of chronic rejection and acceptance with a sample of adolescents with a stable average peer status.
Third, our sample of chronically rejected adolescents contained adolescents with and without a clinical diagnosis of ADHD. Although removing the participants with ADHD from our analyses did not influence our findings, it is important to investigate whether neural responses to exclusion differ between chronically rejected children with ADHD and those without such a diagnosis.
Conclusions, Implications and Future Directions
To conclude, the present study forms an important first step toward understanding how social exclusion might be experienced differently as a function of an adolescent’s prior peer status history. Using neuroimaging methods we showed that, despite chronically rejected and stably accepted adolescents reporting similar negative feelings following exclusion, chronically rejected adolescents showed enhanced neural responses to social exclusion and incidental exclusion. Our findings shed light on the processes, occurring at the level of an individual child, through which peer rejection may lead to adverse effects on mental health over time. Crucially, adolescents who have been exposed to chronic peer rejection process the same exclusion experience differently on a neural level compared to adolescents who were not exposed to chronic rejection, which might not be easily captured by self-reports. Longitudinal studies have shown that peer rejection is a very persistent phenomenon, which can generalize across different social contexts. For example, when children with a rejected status in their classroom enter new social situations where they are unknown, they rapidly reestablish a rejected status (Coie and Kupersmidt
1983; Hardy et al.
2002). Consistent with transactional models of peer rejection, children with a heightened neural reactivity to social exclusion might show more pronounced emotional or behavioral reactions to acute rejection experiences (e.g., social exclusion), which could in turn elicit repeated instances of rejection in a new social situation. Thus, sensitivity at the neural level might lead to more negative peer experiences that put adolescents with a history of peer group rejection at greater risk for developing mental health problems. However, more work is needed to definitively pinpoint the psychological processes that heightened neural responses in ACC and aPFC represent and how they affect subsequent psychosocial adjustment.
The current study lays the foundations for future work that can examine how neural responses to social exclusion among rejected adolescents might predict behavioral reactions to exclusion. For example, a heightened responsiveness to exclusion might be related to more aggressive reactions, which could sustain the cycle of repeated instances of rejection and increasingly more behavioral problems in which chronically rejected children might have become trapped. Similarly, a heightened neural reactivity to exclusion might be related to anxious expectations of rejection leading to withdrawal from social interactions. Finally, the current findings can inform interventions aimed at reducing rejected children’s social difficulties by targeting their hypersensitivity to exclusion. Neuroimaging studies of emotional reappraisal have shown that emotion regulation strategies can alter emotion-related neural activity (Ochsner et al.
2012). An interesting future direction would be to test whether emotion regulation strategies could be used to attenuate the heightened neural response to exclusion and how attenuation of the response might influence subsequent acceptance in the peer group. Ultimately, a neurocognitive perspective on the complex interplay between peer relations and psychosocial development may contribute to our understanding of which rejected children are at risk for developing problems and how subjective and neural responses to exclusion might predict adjustment trajectories.