Here’s a person who obviously has theory of mind. She fails the test. Thus the test isn’t testing whether someone has theory of mind.
Sure, maybe autistic people are special exceptions and the test usually works. But how do we know that? If we meet another false negative, we can always just add another special exception. (Well, “they were designed to justify saying autistics lack empathy” would explain why they would usually work but fail precisely for them.) Is there any group other than “people who go around saying ‘I have theory of mind’” for whom we can verify the test result using another method?
Here’s a person who obviously has theory of mind. She fails the test. Thus the test isn’t testing whether someone has theory of mind.
The test succeeds at identifying something important that most people consider obvious, but that (surprisingly) some people fail at. Whether the something that the test measures is best called “theory of mind” is debatable, but I’m not sure there is a better name that would have stuck.
Having names for things is useful for thinking about them, as long as the focus is on the thing (“how could we call the thing this test measures”), and not on the name (“how could we design a test for the presence of a theory of mind?”). There’s a delicate balance to reach between avoiding sneaking in connotations (“let’s call it the Soul Test!”), and not having obscure names that don’t suggest anything (“let’s call it Plasmeomorphic Synchronism!”). I don’t see any reason to think that they struck a particularly bad balance in this case.
daenerys is building an explanation for children’s behaviour based on the premise that children can’t have a model of the world that contains a person being wrong about a fact. I’m saying the test doesn’t show that they can’t.
I was responding more to your “This test is crap” and subsequent explanations—though I’d consider “children can’t have a model of the world that contains a person being wrong about a fact” as a reasonable first approximation for young enough children.
Here’s a person who obviously has theory of mind. She fails the test. Thus the test isn’t testing whether someone has theory of mind.
Sure, maybe autistic people are special exceptions and the test usually works. But how do we know that? If we meet another false negative, we can always just add another special exception. (Well, “they were designed to justify saying autistics lack empathy” would explain why they would usually work but fail precisely for them.) Is there any group other than “people who go around saying ‘I have theory of mind’” for whom we can verify the test result using another method?
The test succeeds at identifying something important that most people consider obvious, but that (surprisingly) some people fail at. Whether the something that the test measures is best called “theory of mind” is debatable, but I’m not sure there is a better name that would have stuck.
Having names for things is useful for thinking about them, as long as the focus is on the thing (“how could we call the thing this test measures”), and not on the name (“how could we design a test for the presence of a theory of mind?”). There’s a delicate balance to reach between avoiding sneaking in connotations (“let’s call it the Soul Test!”), and not having obscure names that don’t suggest anything (“let’s call it Plasmeomorphic Synchronism!”). I don’t see any reason to think that they struck a particularly bad balance in this case.
daenerys is building an explanation for children’s behaviour based on the premise that children can’t have a model of the world that contains a person being wrong about a fact. I’m saying the test doesn’t show that they can’t.
I was responding more to your “This test is crap” and subsequent explanations—though I’d consider “children can’t have a model of the world that contains a person being wrong about a fact” as a reasonable first approximation for young enough children.