Joseph Henrich on Cultural Evolution, WEIRD Societies, and Life Among Two Strange Tribes

Guest:
Joseph Henrich — Professor of Human Evolutionary Biology at Harvard University; author of The WEIRDest People in the World and The Secret of Our Success
Host:
Tyler Cowen
Source:
Conversations with Tyler · 14 December 2016

Joseph Henrich on Cultural Evolution, WEIRD Societies, and Life Among Two Strange Tribes

Joseph Henrich — Professor of Human Evolutionary Biology at Harvard and author of The Secret of Our Success — joins Tyler Cowen for Ep. 16 to argue that human intelligence is a collective achievement, that WEIRD psychology (Western, Educated, Industrialised, Rich, Democratic — see definition below) is an outlier in human history rather than a universal baseline, and that cultural evolution is every bit as potent a force as biological evolution.

Key ideas

  1. Human intelligence is collective, not individual. Henrich’s central claim is that what we call human intelligence is largely a cultural inheritance — numbered systems, literacy, spatial reference frames — downloaded from prior generations rather than computed from scratch. The Polar Inuit, cut off from other Inuit groups, lost advanced tools and technologies over generations not because their brains shrank but because their collective brain — the pool of socially shared know-how — was severed. No individual could reconstruct what the group had accumulated.
  2. WEIRD people are statistical outliers, not the human norm. WEIRD (Western, Educated, Industrialised, Rich, Democratic) populations sit at the extreme end of the global distribution on a wide range of psychological and behavioural measures. Because most psychology research has been run on American undergraduates, its conclusions are far less universal than textbooks suggest. Western traits such as general-purpose norms for dealing with strangers — the foundation of market cooperation — are themselves products of cultural evolution, not human defaults.
  3. Big gods enabled large-scale cooperation. Early human societies had gods that were weak, whimsical, and morally indifferent. Religions featuring powerful, monitoring, punishment-capable gods spread because they solved a coordination problem: people who believe a god watches and punishes defection cooperate more reliably with strangers. Monotheism’s competitive advantage was further sharpened by demanding exclusive loyalty — dissolving local ancestor gods that otherwise split allegiances.
  4. The Catholic Church’s marriage programme made the West WEIRD. Starting around 600 AD in Kent, the Church began dismantling complex kinship structures — banning cousin marriage, ending polygyny, pushing people to marry outside their clan. This broke the dense tribal networks that had governed cooperation, forcing individuals to build ties across families. Henrich’s argument is that this centuries-long social restructuring is what eventually produced the individualism, impersonal trust, and analytical thinking that distinguish WEIRD populations — and ultimately made the Industrial Revolution possible.
  5. Zero-sum thinking is fragile and easily triggered. Among the Mapuche of Chile, Henrich observed communities in which neighbours hid good harvests for fear of envy: if one person did well, others assumed a fixed pie had been divided against them. This zero-sum worldview — the anthropologist George Foster’s ‘image of limited good’ — actively suppresses innovation by punishing visible success. Henrich considers positive-sum thinking culturally constructed and relatively easy to unravel: slow growth or intergroup conflict can tip populations back toward zero-sum norms with little warning.

Content

The collective brain and cumulative culture

Henrich’s framework begins with a distinction between humans and every other animal: human culture is cumulative. Each generation inherits a body of tools, techniques, and norms, adds a little, and passes the augmented package on. No chimpanzee makes anything it could not, in principle, figure out alone; no human in a hunter-gatherer society could independently reconstruct the full set of knowledge needed to survive in their environment. The practical implication is that group size and interconnectedness are themselves productive inputs — a larger, better-connected collective brain generates and maintains more sophisticated know-how. Henrich calls this the core reason that larger, more interconnected populations tend to carry fancier tools and technologies.

The Polar Inuit case is his sharpest illustration. Isolated from other Inuit groups by geography, this community gradually lost complex technologies — not because the individuals became less capable, but because the group was too small to maintain what it had inherited. Their own brains were unchanged; their collective brain had been amputated.

Culture making us smarter (and dumber)

Henrich resists the simple story that culture liberates cognitive potential. The full picture is both: culture gives us cognitive tools we could not invent alone, while simultaneously removing the need to know whole domains.

On the giving side, he offers counting systems as a worked example. Speakers of the smallest-scale languages can count ‘one, two, three, many’ — they cannot distinguish 36 from 37. Acquiring an unbounded counting system is not merely learning a convention; it literally grants new cognitive ability. Literacy rewires the brain measurably, thickening the corpus callosum (the information highway between the brain’s two hemispheres) and changing how the brain processes spoken language.

On the taking side, modern individuals know less about survival, food production, and tool manufacture than their ancestors. The division of labour has compressed each person’s practical knowledge to a narrow slice of what any member of a hunter-gatherer band once held. Henrich reads this not as decline but as a structural shift: we offload encyclopedic knowledge into institutions, books, and now search engines, and redeploy cognitive capacity toward recombination.

WEIRD psychology and behavioural economics

In around 2006, Henrich and colleagues at the University of British Columbia noticed that in field after field — visual perception, cooperation games, fairness intuitions — Western participants sat at the extreme end of cross-cultural distributions. The paper they produced coined the WEIRD acronym and raised a pointed methodological challenge: if your science of human nature is built on studies of American undergraduates, how much of it generalises?

Henrich’s sharpest example is trust in strangers. The behavioural-economics literature had documented consistent patterns of cooperation in ‘ultimatum games’ (in which one player offers a share of money to another, who can accept or reject it — rejection costs both parties). These patterns were interpreted as reflecting universal human psychology. When Henrich’s team ran the same games in small-scale societies across the world, results varied dramatically. The ‘universal’ cooperation norms turned out to be culturally local ones, produced by market-integrated societies in which dealing fairly with strangers is a daily practical necessity.

The Church, cousin marriage, and the road to individualism

Henrich’s most historically ambitious argument is that the Western church’s marriage-and-family programme — pursued for centuries for its own theological and institutional reasons — produced the psychological substrate of modern capitalism almost as a by-product.

The mechanism runs as follows. Complex kinship systems, in which dense networks of relatives provide insurance, enforce norms, and govern marriage, are the basic social technology of most human societies. They are also, Henrich argues, deeply resistant to the impersonal trust required for large-scale market exchange. You deal with your kin on one set of norms and with strangers on quite another.

Beginning in Anglo-Saxon Kent around 600 AD, missionaries began dismantling these structures: banning first and eventually second cousin marriage, ending polygyny, requiring that individuals marry outside their clan. People gradually had to form ties with non-relatives; churches, guilds, and eventually charter towns emerged to fill the social functions that kin networks had served. It took centuries — the first charter towns, in which individuals rather than family groups were the basic social unit, appear in the tenth and eleventh centuries. But the end product was a population that had learned to extend trust beyond kin, to deal with strangers on general-purpose norms, and to conceive of itself in individualist rather than relational terms. Henrich calls this the psychological raw material of WEIRD modernity.

He extends the argument to explain cross-national variation. China’s strong patrilineal clan system and cousin-marriage practices, he suggests, created structural obstacles to the individualism that fuels entrepreneurship — not a cultural deficit but a different institutional equilibrium. China since the 1950s has pursued almost exactly the same marriage-and-family transformation the Catholic Church pioneered in Europe, ending cousin marriage and polygyny through state decree; the long-run consequences, Henrich thinks, could be significant.

Big gods and the scaling of cooperation

Henrich’s account of religion is deliberately functional. Early gods — the ancestor spirits, local nature deities, and capricious supernatural agents found in small-scale societies — are morally indifferent. They can be bribed, tricked, or appeased with sacrifice. They monitor their own group, not humanity at large.

Big gods — morally concerned, cosmically powerful, capable of punishing sinners in the afterlife — are a later cultural invention, and a successful one. Henrich’s experimental evidence: participants in field studies around the world who reported stronger belief in a punishing, monitoring god cooperated more in behavioural games and were less willing to cheat. Priming participants to think about their local deity made them more pro-ingroup; priming the big god made them fairer to out-group strangers.

The logic is competitive: societies whose members could reliably cooperate with strangers — because they feared divine sanction — could scale up, absorb or outcompete their neighbours, and spread the belief system that had enabled them. Monotheism sharpened this advantage by demanding exclusive loyalty and sending missionaries to extinguish rival gods rather than coexist with them.

Henrich notes the secular flip side: once secular institutions can do what big gods once did — providing the impersonal enforcement and social safety nets that make strangers trustworthy — religion becomes functionally redundant and begins to ebb. The best predictor of atheism in European countries is generous state provision, not philosophy.

Zero-sum thinking and the fragility of positive-sum norms

One of Henrich’s most practically alarming observations comes from fieldwork among the Mapuche of Chile. Mapuche communities he studied operated under what anthropologists call the ‘image of limited good’: the conviction that wealth is fixed and finite, so a neighbour’s gain is automatically one’s loss. Farmers who discovered a more productive technique hid it. Good harvests were concealed. Envy was treated as a real causal force — visible success invited supernatural punishment. Innovation was suppressed not by state decree but by social norms enforcing conformity with the communal average.

Henrich sees this not as a Mapuche peculiarity but as the default human setting, barely held in check among WEIRD populations. Positive-sum thinking — the intuition that trade and cooperation can make everyone better off — is itself a cultural achievement, and a fragile one. Slow growth and intergroup conflict are the triggers he suspects most readily dissolve it.

The two strange tribes: economists and psychologists

The episode’s title comes from Henrich’s observation of academic culture as itself an object of anthropological study. Having held joint appointments in economics and psychology departments simultaneously, he describes two distinct tribes with irreconcilably different norms.

Economists, he reports, treat seminars as dominance contests: the audience signals intelligence by interrupting at the first slide with the question designed to demolish the entire talk. Psychologists sit silently through the whole presentation, raise a hand reluctantly, preface any criticism with extensive praise, and then — potentially — ask the killer question. The social structure differs; the underlying competitive drive does not. He says he has always wanted to write the ethnography: My Life among Two Strange Tribes: The Psychologists and the Economists.

The start-up problem: how humans diverged from other apes

Cowen presses Henrich on what he calls the ‘start-up problem’: what set humans on a trajectory of cumulative culture while the other great apes did not? Henrich’s answer is evolutionary: natural selection faces a choice between investing in larger individual brains (better at figuring things out alone) or in better social learning (better at acquiring what others know). Social learning only pays off when there is useful knowledge in other minds to acquire. The trigger for the human trajectory, Henrich speculates, was a period in which early hominins on the African savanna lived in unusually large groups — large enough that useful innovations could accumulate across individuals and generations, making social learning the better investment. Climate instability may also have favoured adaptable, culturally transmitted strategies over rigid instinct.

Neanderthals, he notes, had larger brains than Homo sapiens — roughly 1,500cc versus 1,350cc — and were probably more intelligent in individual cognitive terms. What they lacked was the collective brain: their group sizes and social networks were apparently too small to sustain cumulative culture at the pace Africans achieved. When modern humans moved into Europe, they brought a richer accumulated toolkit; the rest is a story Henrich declines to dwell on.

See also