From Buckets to Sieves
A call for the death of bad theories of mind
In a number of publications, Philosopher Karl Popper presented a view of a traditional theory of knowledge that he summarized as “the bucket theory of the mind.” The theory (in all its variations) posits that the human brain is born essentially as an empty bucket into which knowledge is poured through the senses as life is experienced. His diagram of this process was amusing, to say the least:
Transcripts of lectures during which he spoke of the bucket theory read as quite funny too, especially when he lamented the bucket’s lack of hands and thus the apparent lack of the sense of touch. In light of his own critique, I present a modern visual take on Popper’s bucket, hands and all, that also incorporates the source of the fill, the universe:
Amusing as it was, the critique he leveled against the bucket theory was, in word, devastating. To summarize his main points:
1. Most of the dispositions that constitute our knowledge are inborn,
2. Most of those that are not inborn are modifications of inborn dispositions,
3. The remainder are the result of taking over objective knowledge (Popper, 1994, among other places).
Popper’s notion of objective knowledge was quite dissimilar to the firmly entrenched version. “Objective” these days means totally free from any sort of bias. “Subjective” means just the opposite — riddled with bias and typically, therefore, “bad.” Objective = Good; Subjective = Bad. We see this common view of “objective” in refrains like “justice is blind.”
Popper’s notion of objective knowledge was about the things that people create. Knowledge becomes objective when it is made “exosomatic”; that is, put outside of our bodies by us, mainly through the use of language. Subjective knowledge remains within, and he was quite clear in his view that the two types yielded significant effects on one another. His insight was that objective knowledge can be every bit as powerful as subjective knowledge — for people and the universe. Most importantly, objective knowledge can grow and progress, for once it is put outside of ourselves through expression and artefacts, others can engage with it. Popper never cared about for the “sources” of our objective knowledge — his emphasis was squarely on the engagement bit, particularly engagement that is critical and finds errors.
Popper’s critique of the bucket theory and his notions about objective knowledge remain just as powerful today as they were when he first proposed them more than half a century ago. Unfortunately, his criticism has not yet had as profound an effect as it could — bucket theory is very much alive and kicking. Its most public manifestation can be seen in education where the bucket metaphor has only been swapped for the sponge that learners use to “soak up” all the knowledge. Some try to sidestep it altogether with “scientific research” that looks for a way to say that everything comes down to genetics or some other purely physical explanation of human behavior — like when we scan the brains of killers. But for most, bucket theory remains the explanation of choice, leading people astray as it has done for centuries now.
Of course, Popper’s wasn’t the only critique of the bucket theory — he just has the best diagram. Unfortunately, most of the other critiques forget the part about objective knowledge that Popper started with and never lost sight of — the truth that objective knowledge is created by people. He realized that some objective knowledge is also discovered by people — like the existence of very large prime numbers, for example. Such knowledge always existed, but we only discovered it after people created the objective knowledge that enabled the discovery, like methods for counting and calculating, for example.
This truth is easy to lose sight of. We take the origins of most things for granted. And we can only guess at the origins of a great number of things, ourselves included. When those who are trying to remind us about man-made origins of objective knowledge use phrases like “taken over” as short-hand to describe the complex process that gives rise to objective knowledge and the effects it has on us in turn, they inadvertently further disconnect the objective things from their origins.
Most people have grown comfortable with the explanations that state that our brains are “taken over” by the things we’ve created. We feel especially comforted when those things drive/force/cause others to do things we don’t particularly care for — see the “_____ causes violence” debates, for example.
The take-over is not always so negative, though. Often the things we create are quite helpful, too. Our “mental models” can take us over in good ways, too. We hope that the mental model for how planes work will take over the pilots’ brains if we start descending too rapidly.
No matter what value we place on the effects or the actual utility of the “take-over,” the underlying explanatory structure is the same. To help clarify this structure, I’ve sketched out a visual take that updates the bucket theory diagram, which I call the sieve theory of mind:
In the sieve theory of mind, experience continues to play the critical role in knowledge acquisition. Popper’s point #1 continues to be ignored, for the most part, except by the purists who contend there is nothing but #1. (There’s no shortage of interest in “evolutionary” psych-/anthrop-/soci-ology.) But in addition to filling the bucket with knowledge, in the sieve theory, the acquired knowledge/experience ‘crystalizes’ (to continue the water metaphor) into some sort of lens/filter/perspective that, in turn, colors/biases/frames how we perceive the universe. Particular sieve theories vary only in the types of knowledge/experience, the ‘crystallization’ mechanisms (which sometimes include catalysts), and the specific colors/biases/frames that result. In other words, our dispositions are “taken over” by something(s), driving/forcing/causing us to act according to its requirements.
Popper’s points #2 and #3 could be taken as a defense of the sieve theory. The modifications of inborn dispositions are happening at the bottom of the bucket and, in turn, they “take over” our senses, like the shapes in the diagram’s eyes. (Popper further suggested that such take overs might even become genetically entrenched through selection.)
With regard to explaining the physical universe, this is all well and good. Recall the airplane pilot example: we want pilots wearing lenses cut from the best mental models about physical processes that we have. If we remember that Popper’s point #1 is the start of the process, and therefore that the modifications and take-over are all refinements, then the sieve theory of mind kinda works for explaining what we know about the universe.
Except that when it comes to explaining human behavior, we always seem to forget point #1 and that the fact that the source for #3 is ourselves, the things we create. And we go about explaining human behavior with reference to the “crystalized” things.
The things go by many names: cultures, memes, ideologies, beliefs, values, even knowledge itself. Sometimes we’ll nod to their origins when we talk about “backgrounds” and “experience.” But we’re rarely serious about exploring their origins in-depth — that’s a lot of work. So the nod to their origins becomes just another thing that causes us to act: “he acts like that because of his background” and “she’s good at that because of her experience.”
Sieve theory lives on because we forgot that we created the things.
Popper suggested that after Darwin, no one really had a right to think along the lines of bucket theory. Unfortunately, parts of his broader message seem to have been forgotten, and the way he delivered his message has been taken by some as opening the door to the sieve theory. Hordes have rushed through the door, eager to explain everything from the effects of the take-overs at the individual, group, and societal levels, to the mechanism by which these man-made things do their “taking over.”
Perhaps the best demonstration of just how pervasive the sieve theory of mind has become, is to cite its application by one of Popper’s most important proponents, David Deutsch. More than anyone on the modern scene, Deutsch has both proselytized and critiqued Popper’s views on knowledge. Deutsch’s extensions of Popper’s work wherein he elevated the value and mechanics of explanation have been truly insightful in ways that Popper himself never fully articulated. Moreover, Deutsch’s optimistic defense of the unlimited power of human explanatory knowledge offers a framework toward understanding the privileged place of humankind in the cosmos.
When it comes to accounting for human behavior, though, Deutsch unfortunately doubles down on the sieve theory. For Deutsch, the primary, man-made things that cause human behavior are memes — ideas that are replicators and transmitted from person to person. Lest there be any doubt that this is Deutsch’s view, here is his diagram describing the process from The Beginning of Infinity (BoI; 2011):
In addition to this basic mechanism of transmission, Deutsch explains how these man-made things operate entirely independently of their creators:
The successful meme variant is the one that changes the behaviour of its holders in such a way as to make itself best at displacing other memes from the population. This variant may well benefit its holders, or their culture, or the species as a whole. But if it harms them, or destroys them, it will spread anyway. Memes that harm society are a familiar phenomenon. You need only consider the harm done by adherents of political views, or religions, that you especially abhor. Societies have been destroyed because some of the memes that were best at spreading through the population were bad for a society. And countless individuals have been harmed or killed by adopting memes that were bad for them — such as irrational political ideologies or dangerous fads.
Drawing on this explanation of the independent nature of these “selfish memes” and their operations, Deutsch uses them to account for the maintenance of “static” and “dynamic” societies. To briefly state his extensive argument: while memes can evolve through variation (like genes do) as people attempt to solve problems, static societies quash such variation by any means necessary, including violence. Dynamic societies, in contrast, cherish creativity and promote it through “rational” memes that protect criticism. So while the capacity to solve problems exists in both types of societies, it is only in dynamic societies that the criticism-enabling memes flourish, and these in turn give rise to ever more true and useful other memes.
Deutsch’s contrast between the two types of societies can be summarized using his own words as:
It seems both societies are always looking for ways to improve their similar problem situation — presumably Deutsch agrees that the problems faced by the static societies are indeed also unpredictable. They both also seem capable of solving problems through creativity, though static societies for Deutsch seem only capable of solving parochial or minor problems. But static societies fail to make significant, noticeable improvement because of the ways in which they suppress new ideas. Thus, the main difference between the societies is the suppression. For Deutsch, suppression, while ultimately enforceable through violence, is more typically reinforced by “anti-rational” memes that quash even the act of criticism.
If his diagram didn’t convince, then it should be clear by now that Deutsch’s explanation of the nature and mechanics of memes as the underlying cause of human behavior, is a premier example of the sieve theory of the mind. His explanation accounts for individual behavior and the behavior of societies. And it accounts for both the behaviors he likes and those he seems to not to care for, as any sieve theory worth its salt should do.
Static/Anti-rational = Bad; Dynamic/Rational = Good, as he makes abundantly clear:
But our society (the West) is not a static society. It is the only known instance of a long-lived dynamic (rapidly changing) society. It is unique in history for its ability to mediate long-term, rapid, peaceful change and improvement, including improvements in the broad consensus about values and aims.
I should state that I wholeheartedly agree with Deutsch’s judgement here, obviously. Up with criticism, down with suppression!
And I should also state I find a lot of good in his analysis. Grand theories are always impressive, and I share in the urge to find the right, true ones.
But like all versions of sieve theories of mind, it is wrong. I don’t mean wrong in the “all theories are wrong but some are more useful than others” sort of way. I mean it more fundamentally, in the Popperian “we should kill that theory before it does more harm” kinda way.
In order to show why it is wrong, as Deutsch would have us do, we can ask questions to see if the explanation offers good answers. Here are a few that I cannot figure out how to answer, using the meme theory:
Q1: Given that static societies preceded dynamic societies and given their overwhelming suppression of criticism, how does the explanation account for the emergence of rational memes in the first place and the subsequent “transition” from static to dynamic societies? I’ll call this the emergence question.
Q2: Given that in a dynamic society, a prevalence of rational memes presumably overtakes anti-rational memes, which have themselves overtaken violence as the primary means of suppression, how does the explanation account for the fact that the one of the world’s most dynamic societies — the United States — is also one of the world’s most violent societies? I’ll call this the violence question.
Q3: Given the obvious benefits afforded members of dynamic societies, how does the explanation account for the fact that some people who are reared in dynamic societies leave them to join static societies, indeed extreme static societies, like religious cults? I’ll call this the backslide question.
Deutsch offers a partial answer to the emergence question in BoI:
Where and when the transition began is not very well defined, but I suspect that it began with the philosophy of Galileo and perhaps became irreversible with the discoveries of Newton.
This answer at least gives us clues to an origin story wherein Galileo, who we must presume was reared in a static society, created one or more of the types of memes that were not quashed and thereby enabled the rise of dynamic societies. Given his rearing, though, we have to presume that he was subjected to the same process as others in his static society, which Deutsch explains as:
[P]eople growing up in such a society acquire a set of values for judging themselves and everyone else which amounts to ridding themselves of distinctive attributes and seeking only conformity with the society’s constitutive memes. They not only enact those memes: they see themselves as existing only in order to enact them. So, not only do such societies enforce qualities such as obedience, piety and devotion to duty, their members’ sense of their own selves is invested in the same standards. People know no others. So they feel pride and shame, and form all their aspirations and opinions, by the criterion of how thoroughly they subordinate themselves to the society’s memes.
Note the sleight of hand here — replacing the “observe/copy memes” mechanism/thing with the “acquisition of values” mechanism/thing — still sieve theory of mind, though.
So, how’d he do it? How’d Galileo find his way out of this all-encompassing environment? And how did his memes escape the suppression, especially when he had to pass them along to others who had acquired the same set of contrary values? We know that Galileo faced quite severe suppression once he offered up his own memes: first for championing Copernican heliocentrism then later for the apparent criticism of the church. Suppression for the former was lodged in the form of ridicule; suppression of the later in the form of house arrest.
Deutsch’s answer, presumably, is that the memes Galileo invented contained some kernel of deep truth that has broad application. But members of static societies also invent ideas that “actually help” for problems such as pain, hunger, grief, fear or other forms of physical and mental suffering — which presumably have utility beyond their parochial origins. We are left, then, with a difference of degree rather than type — memes in dynamic societies offer more utility. But we still have not accounted for the emergence of rational memes that encourage criticism out of an environment structured to overwhelmingly suppress criticism.
Deutsch also puts forth partial answers for Q2 and Q3 offered by the meme explanation. But as I will show in the sequel post, From Sieves to Hoses, they are just as unsatisfactory as explanations. To show how unsatisfactory they are, I’ll use some of the terrific guidance from Popper and Deutsch’s own perspectives.
Deutsch, D. (2011). The Beginning of Infinity: Explanations that Transform the World. Penguin UK.
Popper, K. (1994). Knowledge and the body-mind problem: In defence of interaction. Routledge.
