John Doe and Richard Doe

By Sarah Paul
In The Norton Introduction to Philosophy, 2nd ed. 2018.
Edited & abridged by N. L. Engel-Hawbecker

[1. A Supposed Asymmetry in Our Knowledge of Others & Ourselves]

To discover what is going on in someone else’s mind, it can seem obvious that complex
theorizing is required. As Whitney Houston once asked, “How will I know if he really
loves me?” According to Aretha Franklin, you cannot find out from the way he acts,
the look in his eyes, or even what he says (since he may aim to deceive you); the answer
is in his kiss. Others may disagree, taking the evidence provided by his verbal behavior
to be more significant than his kisses. Either way, the presumption is that the
attribution of mental states to others such as being in love, believing that change is
gonna come, wanting the revolution to begin, or intending to wait a lonely lifetime is
based on observational evidence and mediated by a theory of the symptoms people
exhibit when they are in those states.
It can seem just as obvious that this is not how it works in one’s own case. To
know about my own mental goings-on, I do not appear to need evidence about how I
have been behaving. Surely I can know whether I love him without observing my own
kisses! I need not check my agenda to know that I intend to travel to Abu Dhabi or
my pulse to know that I am excited about it. It would be inappropriate to ask me how
I know that I believe that Topeka is the capital of Kansas or what my evidence is that
I desire to eat a burrito for lunch. And whereas I could easily be wrong about whether
someone else likes my new haircut, the presumption is that I cannot be mistaken about
whether I like theirs.
Let us make these claims about self-knowledge more precise. According to common
wisdom, [self-knowledge] is nonevidential, infallible, and distinctively first-personal:

No Evidence: When a subject ascribes a mental state M to herself, it is not on

the basis of evidence or grounds for thinking that she is in M.
Infallible: If a subject sincerely believes herself to be in some mental state M,
then she is in M.
First-Personal: The method a subject normally uses to ascribe mental states to
herself cannot be used in the same way to ascribe mental states to other people.

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These three theses express a deep asymmetry between access to one’s own mind and
knowledge of other minds, the latter of which is evidence based and highly fallible.
They arise from a classic view about the nature of the mind and what we mean when
we use mental terms such as “pain,” “belief,” “desire,” and “love.” On this view,
Infallible and No Evidence are true because a person’s mind is transparent to her.
There is nothing she needs to go by in order to know what is going on within it; she
knows directly and immediately, in a way that leaves no room for error. It is like an
inner theater that she can see perfectly, and that only she can see.

[2. Problems with the Asymmetry]

Because this inner theater is essentially private, it is consistent with everything we can
observe about other people that they have no minds at all. We might hypothesize that
their behavior is caused by mental events similar to our own, in something like the
way we posit the existence of subatomic particles that we cannot observe. But we can
in principle never confirm this hypothesis. Ludwig Wittgenstein compared this
situation to a scenario in which everyone has a box, and each person uses the word
“beetle” to refer to the contents of his own box, but in which no one can ever look
inside another person’s box. Since it is perfectly possible that each person has
something different in his box—or nothing at all—no one will be in a position to know
whether anyone else has what they themselves call “beetle,” even if everyone uses the
same word. And similarly for terms such as “pain” and “belief”: it might be that the
inner states others refer to with these mental terms are wholly unlike what you call
“pain” and “belief” in yourself. Genuine knowledge of others’ minds turns out to be
impossible.
I submit that though we began with what seemed like common wisdom, we have
been led to a consequence that is absurd. We can have knowledge of other people’s
mental states, often effortlessly so. One can know at a single glance that a complete
stranger sees a poisonous snake in his path, is afraid of it, and desires not to get bitten.
And when it comes to those we have spent a great deal of time with, we sometimes
know their mental condition better than they do. Think of a relative who sincerely
denies she is angry when you can easily tell that she is, or a friend who genuinely
believes he wants the salad when you know he really wanted the fries. Indeed, part of
what we mean by “angry” is a condition that normally involves a flushed face, furrowed
brow, and raised voice, or the often visible effort to refrain from exhibiting these

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symptoms. When a loved one’s anger is written across her face in this way, to insist
that we can still only guess at a fundamentally unknowable inner life is to embrace a
dubious form of solipsism [i.e., the idea that only oneself exists, or is known to exist].
We should conclude instead that at least one of our theses is mistaken. (In fact, I
will [eventually] argue that they are all mistaken, and that the common wisdom should
be completely uprooted.) First, the cases of the raging relative and the gluttonous
friend show that Infallible is false. Infallible can seem undeniable when we use
sensations such as “pain” as our guiding example, as we tend to do out of a desire for
simplicity. Pain is a state that wears its essence on its sleeve, so to speak, in that being
in pain and seeming to be in pain do not generally come apart. But if we shift our
focus to more complicated states, it is easier to see how we could be wrong about
ourselves. When it comes to the motives behind the things that we do or what it is in
life we truly want, we often need to pay therapists a great deal of money to help us
know our own minds. Similarly with our beliefs—a person can think that she believes
in God but realize in a sudden epiphany that she has been an atheist for a long time.

[3. The Inner-Sense Theory: No Evidence & First-Personal without Infallible]

Might we replace Infallible with a more modest principle that allows for error but
preserves the intuition that access to one’s own mind is privileged over knowledge of
other minds?

Privileged: Beliefs about one’s own mental states are more likely to be true and
amount to knowledge than beliefs about others’ mental states.

This principle is much more plausible than Infallible. But now we must ask what the
source of the gaps and errors in self-knowledge might be. If we retain our allegiance to
No Evidence, self-ignorance cannot be the result of misinterpreting or reasoning badly
about the data. Nor can it be that we make mistakes because we are merely guessing,
since guessing would not satisfy First-Personal or be reliable enough to vindicate
Privileged. Rather, it would have to be that we have a way of subconsciously “sensing”
our mental states that is reliable but imperfect, somewhat like the way in which we
can sense external objects by using vision.
Let us flesh out what this “inner-sense” hypothesis would mean. Assuming that
physicalism is true [i.e., everything, our minds included, is physical], this introspective
mechanism would have to be realized physically—presumably in the brain. If it delivers
results that are sometimes mistaken, this must be because the mental states it is

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 dedicated to detecting (also physically realized) exist independently of being
introspected. These mental states and the introspective mechanism would need to
stand in a causal relation with one another, akin to the way in which the visual system
stands in a causal relation with trees and tables via the reflection of light. The
mechanism would causally detect the mental states one is in and deliver that
information to conscious awareness, in a way that is generally accurate but that is also
subject to breakdowns and mix-ups.1
Note that the inner-sense view as I have characterized it is an empirical [≈ scientific]
hypothesis, which means that it can be assessed partly on empirical grounds. To date,
however, there is no direct empirical evidence of the existence of a mechanism that is
dedicated to detecting mental states. This need not prevent us from hypothesizing that
it must be there, but this would be an “extravagant” hypothesis, in that it posits a
mechanism not needed to explain any data other than our capacity for self-knowledge.
In contrast, an “economical” hypothesis would appeal only to capacities that we have
good independent reason to believe that we have, and that have more general
explanatory power. By this measure, the inner-sense view fares poorly.
Further doubt about the idea of an inner sense emerges when we try to imagine
the possibility of a creature who lacks it. After all, just as some creatures who are
otherwise intact have a defective capacity for visual perception, it should be possible
to have a defective or missing inner-sense mechanism. Such a creature would possess
mental concepts such as “belief” and “desire” and would be able to attribute those
states to others in the normal way, but would have no special introspective access to
her own mind—she would be “self-blind.” But in fact, we do not seem to encounter
people who are self-blind; indeed, many philosophers have thought that self-blindness
is impossible in an otherwise rational creature. This would be difficult to explain if the
capacity for self-knowledge depended on a sense mechanism that could well be missing
or damaged without impairing any other rational capacities. The impossibility of
rational self-blindness is another strike against the inner-sense hypothesis.

[4. The Theory-Theory: Giving Up No Evidence & First-Personal Too]

No Evidence and First-Personal are the culprits that led us to consider the inner-sense
model, so let us now try giving them up. This frees us to entertain a hypothesis that
is extremely economical and easily explains the impossibility of rational self-blindness:

1
[This inner-sense theory comes from D. M. Armstrong’s A Materialist Theory of the Mind.]

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the capacity for self-knowledge just is the same capacity for theorizing that we use to
know of other minds. As Gilbert Ryle memorably put it, “John Doe’s ways of finding
out about John Doe are the same as John Doe’s ways of finding out about Richard
Roe” (The Concept of Mind, 156). This hypothesis is economical because it appeals
only to capacities that we independently know that we have—competence with mental
concepts and the capacity to theorize on the basis of evidence. There is no need to
posit a special mechanism dedicated to acquiring self-knowledge [as the inner-sense
theory did. This theory also] easily explains the impossibility of self-blindness in a
creature who is otherwise rational and conceptually competent because this is all that
is required for self-knowledge. We can call this view the “theory-theory” to emphasize
the claim that self-knowledge is not based on nothing—it is obtained by theorizing
about ourselves in light of evidence.
All parties to the debate should concede that we sometimes achieve self-knowledge
by theorizing about ourselves, as the example of visiting a therapist shows. But could
all substantive knowledge of our own minds be achieved in this way? Some have
interpreted Ryle’s remark to mean that we can only find out about our own minds by
observing how our bodies are moving around and interacting with the environment.
(Hence the old joke about two Ryleans who meet on the street: The one looks the
other up and down and says “You’re fine. How am I?”) This version of the view, in
which theorizing about the mind is entirely based on behavioral evidence, is woefully
inadequate to explain the extent of the self-knowledge we possess. Surely I need not
wait to see what my arm is reaching toward to know that I want an apple and intend
to eat one. And we can clearly come to know facts about our own minds even when
sitting quietly, with no behavior to observe.
What this shows, I think, is that any plausible version of the theory-theory must
allow some inputs to theorizing that are not themselves the product of theorizing or
sense perception. We must have something to go on other than our circumstances and
behavior. This concession may appear to undermine whatever economical advantage
the theory-theory initially had, since now some further explanation is needed of our
access to these additional data. However, some inputs are cheaper than others. For
instance, in addition to speaking out loud, we often engage in “inner speech”—we talk
silently to ourselves. We conjure up mental pictures, such as the image of a burrito or
one’s childhood home, and walk around with songs running through our heads. To
allow that these various forms of mental imagery can be inputs into theorizing about

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ourselves is not especially extravagant, since there is good evidence that inner speech
and imagery are produced by the same neural machinery responsible for audible speech
and sensory experience. If seeing my arm move toward the apple or hearing myself say
“I’m so hungry!” are permissible inputs, it is no big leap to include mental images of
apples and silent utterances of “Mmm, lunchtime.”
Further, we can draw on somatosensory cues such as pains, nausea, and arousal.
The key claim for the theory-theory is that conscious awareness of inner speech,
imagery, and certain bodily conditions does not in itself amount to the kind of self-
knowledge that is substantive and perplexing, such as knowledge of our attitudes and
complex emotions. To know that my stomach is constricted and my heart is pounding
is not yet to know whether I am fearful, enraged, or attracted to my neighbor, and to
experience a mental image of a burrito is not yet to know that I desire a burrito for
lunch. However, these “internal promptings” are good evidence of my attitudes and
emotions, just as it would be good evidence that my neighbor desires to eat a burrito
if I observed him doodling one. This extra source of information about our own minds
that only we (normally) have access to helps explain the truth of Privileged, as well as
the initial appeal of First-Personal. We are generally more knowledgeable about our
own minds than others are because we have far more evidence [about ourselves].
To be clear, the claim is not that self-knowledge derives entirely from these internal
cues. A general theory of mind, autobiographical information, and information about
one’s current and future circumstances also play important roles. Do I believe there is
a table in front of me? A visual experience of a table is generally a sufficient basis for
concluding that I do. Do I intend to have breakfast tomorrow morning? I need only
consult my normal habits to know that the answer is a resounding “yes.” Thinking
about what we have most reason to do and believe is also enormously helpful, assuming
one does not have strong evidence of being an unreasonable person. If I have excellent
reason to show up at an important job interview, I can know on that basis that I
intend to be there (unless I also know that I tend to sabotage myself in important
situations). If I know my evidence overwhelmingly supports the conclusion that climate
change is real, I can know on that basis that I believe it is real (unless my behavior of
buying coastal real estate strongly suggests otherwise). Finally, social scripts and
customs help greatly to narrow down the possibilities that I need to consider. [In sum,]

Theory-Theory: All knowledge of our own attitudes and emotions is the product
of theorizing about ourselves, usually on the basis of evidence.

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[5. Pros and Cons of the Theory-Theory]
Return now to the question of why we would sometimes make mistakes about our own
attitudes and emotions, and why someone else might be in a better position to get it
right. Unlike views that accept No Evidence, the theory-theory offers a clear
explanation. Erroneous self-attributions will generally be the result of misinterpreting
one’s evidence, often in ways that are perfectly intelligible. For instance, we would
expect people to be prone to misattributing mental states to themselves when their
flattering self-conception conflicts with a reality they are reluctant to face. We would
also expect that people can be induced to self-attribute states erroneously by providing
them with misleading evidence, and this is indeed what we find. In one such study,
Western subjects who were prompted to nod their heads while listening to a speech
were more likely to report agreement with the speech than those who were prompted
to shake their heads. Plausibly, the nodding behavior inclined the subjects to interpret
themselves as agreeing with the content of what they heard.
Why have so many taken No Evidence to be true, if in reality our access to our
own minds is evidence based? To account for this datum, the theory-theory must hold
that mental theorizing is normally swift and unconscious (although it can happen at
the conscious level). It is akin in this respect to the process by which we understand
speech, which often involves complex interpretation. To understand my utterance of
the sentence “He saw her duck,” you must work out that “he” refers to Gilbert and
“she” refers to Aretha, that “duck” is a verb in this sentence and not a noun, and that
I meant that she ducked the subway turnstile even though I never said those words.
Yet it will normally feel effortless; we are usually unaware of having considered any
other possibilities aside from the interpretation we arrived at. It may seem conveniently
ad hoc to insist that all this complicated theorizing is going on under the surface of
conscious awareness. But as independent support for this claim, we can appeal to
experiments like “nodding versus shaking,” in which the conditions strongly suggest
that the subjects’ self-reports are being influenced by what they take to be evidence.
Such subjects appear to be completely unaware of this influence; it feels just as
spontaneous as any other mental report.
Further, the proposed symmetry between John Doe and Richard Roe is not just a
claim about self-knowledge. We were led to reject First-Personal in part by noticing
that knowledge of other minds is often not so difficult to get. Attributions of mental
states to others are clearly theory driven, mediated by a general model of human

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psychology, background knowledge of the person, one’s own experience, and
observational evidence. And yet it normally feels quite effortless; we need not think
long and hard to finish our best friend’s sentences or rack our brains to conclude that
this person would like a freshly baked chocolate chip cookie. It is thus even less
surprising that theorizing about one’s own mind feels effortless, since the open
possibilities are dramatically narrowed down by the vast amounts of evidence we have
in our own case.
Finally, we may have mistakenly taken No Evidence to be true because it is
presumed by our social customs. From the fact that it is generally inappropriate to ask
“How do you know?” it does not follow that there is no answer. It might simply be
that we have a practice of deferring to a person’s claims about her own mind unless
there is strong reason to think that something is amiss. None of these considerations
conclusively shows that No Evidence must be false, but they cast enough doubt on
that constraint to render the theory-theory a legitimate contender.
The theory-theory is not without challenges of its own. A potential worry is that
it depicts us as being alienated from our own attitudes and emotions. If I must theorize
about what they are, am I not a mere spectator of my own mind rather than the
subject of it? This kind of alienation is certainly exhibited in cases where the evidence
reveals us to have a belief, desire, intention, or emotion that we see no good reason to
have or that conflicts with our self-conception. It is displayed, for instance, when people
are shown experimental data indicating the presence of implicit attitudes that are
racist and sexist. At the conscious level, most such people genuinely do not see any
good reason to value people differently on the basis of race and sex, and do not think
of themselves as bigoted. They are legitimately alienated from the attitudes they
attribute to themselves on the basis of theorizing.
However, normal cases will not involve this kind of divergence between your
attitudes and your assessment of the reasons to have those attitudes. We will ordinarily
take ourselves to have good reason to intend and believe the things we do (even if this
is far from true), and will thus have no cause to feel alienated from them in this respect.
And as I see it, acceptance of the theory-theory offers relief from a different kind of
social alienation. Giving up the idea that our minds are necessarily transparent to us
while opaque to others frees us from the loneliness of solipsism, and [it] allows us to
reconcile with the fact that we are sometimes opaque to ourselves.