POPULAR science writers face a dilemma. Laypeople come to science with their own systematic ideas about how the world works â ideas often far removed from scientific ones. To explain science effectively, we need to start from these everyday intuitions and move readers towards the scientific concepts. Yet we often end up simply reinforcing the initial intuitions rather than overturning them. No matter how carefully we report and interpret, the readerâs final picture will often be quite different from the one we set out to paint.
Iâm no exception. I write: âScience shows that babies are brilliant learners,â and readers think: âIf I buy the latest educational gizmo for my one-year-old, heâll go to Harvard.â Popular science may even create fabulous intellectual monsters: chimeras of scientific and everyday ideas that take on a life of their own. One example is the way research on the lateralisation of brain function has been hugely oversimplified into the idea that right and left brain control different skills.
Of course, this may not always matter much: colourful metaphors in physics or cosmology can give readers a feel for otherwise extraordinarily difficult concepts. The real problem arises when it comes to the human sciences of biology, psychology or neurology. Everyone has beliefs about human nature, and often those beliefs have deep social and political roots and implications. Scientific psychologists need both to engage with those beliefs and revise them.
Advertisement
All of the above is a preamble to thinking about two new books that exemplify the science writerâs dilemma: Daniel Golemanâs Social Intelligence and Howard Gardnerâs Multiple Intelligences. Both authors have already written best-sellers proposing new kinds of intelligence (âemotional intelligenceâ in the case of science writer Goleman, and âkinaesthetic, musical and interpersonal intelligenceâ, among others, in the case of Gardner, who is a distinguished Harvard educator). Their latest books may well become as popular as the earlier ones, but for me they are simultaneously attractive and troubling because they come to challenge popular intuitions about âintelligenceâ but may end up reinforcing them.
The attractions first. Both writers are effective popularisers of science, and both books are clear, informative and readable in different ways. Golemanâs is anecdotal and journalistic, covering a very wide range of research, while Gardner is elegant and magisterial about his own earlier research.
Golemanâs book is a rich compendium of recent developments in developmental and social psychology and the burgeoning field of social neuroscience. Psychologists have discovered that humans have particularly sophisticated skills to help us understand each other. One prominent evolutionary speculation proposes that it was the ability to understand other people that fuelled human cognitive evolution. More recently, neuroscience has confirmed that extensive and specialised brain circuitry is indeed devoted to understanding others.
That aside, neuroscience often tells us little more than we already know. We knew that the seat of emotion was somewhere above the neck and between the ears; now we know that it is closer to the bottom of the skull than the top. Still, there is a great deal in Golemanâs book to interest and inform the general reader who may still think Freud is the last word on the science of human relationships.
Gardnerâs book, on the other hand, updates his earlier ideas on multiple intelligences, and charts the positive impact these ideas have had on educational practice: more emphasis on meeting the needs of the individual, focusing on a few topics in depth, and cultivating learning and thinking rather than the mere answering of standardised questions. At a time when such ideas are under severe political attack, Gardnerâs eloquent re-articulation and defence of them is especially welcome.
Now for the troublesome bit â and the dilemma. Whatâs intelligence got to do with it? The runaway success of Gardnerâs and Golemanâs earlier books parallels the notoriety of Charles Murray and Richard Hernsteinâs The Bell Curve, in which they argued that racial inequalities were due to genetic differences in intelligence. There seems to be a popular fascination, not to say obsession, with the idea of intelligence. But outside of a narrow subfield within psychometrics, âintelligenceâ simply doesnât play a role in current scientific views of the mind. Not one of my 40 colleagues at the University of California, Berkeley, would say they study intelligence, which is particularly striking since most would agree that they study topics that seem closely related to intelligence, such as cognition, reasoning, inference and learning.
The lay concept of âintelligenceâ is of a kind of substance, of âstuffâ, that different people have in different degrees, like cholesterol or blood sugar. By contrast, the scientific concept of âcognitionâ involves complex interactions between many varied computational and neurological mechanisms with long developmental histories. Ultimately, these complex interactions allow people to make their way in the world. The popular concept of âintelligenceâ is much like the popular biological concepts of âenergyâ or âvitalityâ: it sees a complicated set of functional relations as a single force.
âThe lay concept of intelligence is of a substance, of âstuffââ
Most developmental and cognitive psychologists simply donât talk about intelligence at all, singular or plural. They talk, rather, about âintuitive systemsâ of knowledge, such as âfolkâ theories of psychology or physics or number systems or grammars that allow us to make both predictions and generalisations. Or they talk about computational capacities such as causal inference, or statistical induction, that enable us to learn these intuitive systems. However, none of these mechanisms divides neatly into âtypesâ of intelligence.
Goleman and Gardner recognise this divide between intuitive and scientific ideas. In fact, it was clearly the motivation for Gardnerâs original work. And yet, as Gardner himself sometimes ruefully remarks, the very success of the âmultiple intelligencesâ idea suggests that the audience really doesnât get it. Rather than seeing that intelligence isnât a substance at all, people now seem to think it is several substances â social, emotional and logico-mathematical.
So what makes the idea of intelligence so captivating when it has such little scientific warranty? I think it may have more to do with what I call âbabooneryâ (the systems of status, hierarchy and dominance we share with primates) than with cognition. In human societies, status is related to objective sources of power: land in a feudal society, wealth in an industrial one. But people often seem driven to explain status in terms of mysterious extra substances that the elite have and the plebs donât: ânobilityâ and âgentlemanlinessâ instead of inheritance, or âentrepreneurial spiritâ and âhard workâ instead of cash.
In our post-industrial knowledge economy, schools and grades are what really count. âIntelligenceâ is our ânobilityâ, the magic stuff that gets us to the top and keeps us there. However mysterious it may be, at least everyone agrees that it helps you do well at school. No modern parent would ever say âmy kid may not be that bright, but he works hardâ, as their industrial immigrant forebears might have done. Instead, our universal complaint that âheâs really smart but he just wonât apply himselfâ is a disguised boast. Bill Clintonâs Rhodes scholarship erased his poor Arkansas upbringing and made him part of the elite, while George W. Bushâs flamboyant stupidity cancels out his rich Connecticut childhood and makes him a regular guy.
No wonder people are glad to hear that thereâs more intelligence around than they thought. Talking about âemotional intelligenceâ or âsocial intelligenceâ is like talking about âthe nobility of labourâ or âbeing a natural gentlemanâ. Itâs a way to soften the brutal realities of an arbitrary scholastic pecking order. This is a more attractive and humane picture of intelligence than the genetic scarcity picture painted in The Bell Curve, but it may be just as removed from what Goleman and Gardner intended.
Social Intelligence
Hutchinson
Multiple Intelligences
Perseus