the boy can do the running for them.” Okay, then, how about a hammer, a saw, a hatchet, and a log—three of them are tools. They are not a group, Rakmat replied, because they are useless without the log, so why would they be together?
Other villagers removed either the hammer or the hatchet, which they saw as less versatile for use with the log, unless they considered pounding the hatchet into the log with the hammer, in which case it could stay. Perhaps, then, bird/rifle/dagger/bullet? You can’t possibly remove one and have a group, a remote villager insisted. The bullet must be loaded in the rifle to kill the bird, and “then you have to cut the bird up with the dagger, since there’s no other way to do it.” These were just the introductions explaining the grouping task, not the actual questions. No amount of cajoling, explanation, or examples could get remote villagers to use reasoning based on any concept that was not a concrete part of their daily lives.
The farmers and students who had begun to join the modern world were able to practice a kind of thinking called “eduction,” to work out guiding principles when given facts or materials, even in the absence of instructions, and even when they had never seen the material before. This, it turns out, is precisely what Raven’s Progressive Matrices tests. Imagine presenting the villagers living in premodern circumstances with abstract designs from the Raven’s test.
Some of the changes wrought by modernity and collective culture seem almost magical. Luria found that most remote villagers were not subject to the same optical illusions as citizens of the industrialized world, like the Ebbinghaus illusion. Which middle circle below looks bigger?
If you said the one on the right, you’re probably a citizen of the industrialized world. The remote villagers saw, correctly, that they are the same, while the collective farmers and women in teachers’ school picked the one on the right. Those findings have been repeated in other traditional societies, and scientists have suggested it may reflect the fact that premodern people are not as drawn to the holistic context—the relationship of the various circles to one another—so their perception is not changed by the presence of extra circles. To use a common metaphor, premodern people miss the forest for the trees; modern people miss the trees for the forest.
Since Luria’s voyage to the interior, scientists have replicated his work in other cultures. The Kpelle people in Liberia were subsistence rice farmers, but in the 1970s roads began snaking toward them, connecting the Kpelle to cities. Given similarities tests, teenagers who were engaged with modern institutions grouped items by abstract categories (“All of these things can keep us warm”), while the traditional teens generated groups that were comparatively arbitrary, and changed frequently even when they were asked to repeat the exact same task. Because the touched-by-modernity teens had constructed meaningful thematic groups, they also had far superior recall when asked later to recount the items. The more they had moved toward modernity, the more powerful their abstract thinking, and the less they had to rely on their concrete experience of the world as a reference point.
* * *
• • •
In Flynn’s terms, we now see the world through “scientific spectacles.” He means that rather than relying on our own direct experiences, we make sense of reality through classification schemes, using layers of abstract concepts to understand how pieces of information relate to one another. We have grown up in a world of classification schemes totally foreign to the remote villagers; we classify some animals as mammals, and inside of that class make more detailed connections based on the similarity of their physiology and DNA.
Words that represent concepts that were previously the domain of scholars became widely understood in a few generations. The word “percent” was almost absent from books in 1900. By 2000 it appeared about once every five thousand words. (This chapter is 5,500 words long.) Computer programmers pile layers of abstraction. (They do very well on Raven’s.) In the progress bar on your computer screen that fills up to indicate a download, abstractions are legion, from the fundamental—the programming language that created it is a representation of binary code, the raw 1s and 0s the computer uses—to the psychological: the bar is a visual projection of time that provides peace of mind by estimating the progress of an immense number of underlying activities.
Lawyers might consider how results of one court case brought by