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Human beings have a bad habit of confusing symbols for the things they symbolize. In fact, our society encourages it. Just think of how many successful political stunts rely on symbols over substance.

Linguistic philosopher Alfred Korzybski summarized this confusion in his 1933 magnum opus, Science in Sanity, when he wrote, “The map is not the territory.” In other words, the information we abstract from reality is not itself reality.

Just a few years prior, in 1929, the surrealist painter René Magritte had explored a similar theme in “The Treachery of Images.” An illustration of a pipe subscribed with the words “Ceci n'est pas une pipe” (translation: This is not a pipe) underscores the image as a representation, not a tangible object to be stuffed and smoked.

Very little of what we know comes from firsthand information. Instead, our heads are full of these maps, mental models bestowed on us by our parents, schools, religions. Even fairy tales and fables are blueprints for survival. Our cultural heritage comprises the maps that society has deemed most useful.

And these models can be very useful, indeed. It’s both staggering and inspiring to think of how little scientific knowledge comes from first-hand experience. Instead, evidence is built on reports of reports of reports. It’s what makes science a true community effort.

But because they are constructed from abstractions, models are, by definition, incomplete. “Everything we think we know about the world is a model,” Donella Meadows writes in Thinking in Systems. “None of these is or ever will be the real world.”

Models can be helpful when they align with reality, and they can be dangerous when they limit our understanding and keep us from seeking or integrating new information.

Once we’re given a model, it can be difficult to unlearn. Students raised on the Bohr model may envision electrons orbiting a nucleus like a planet orbiting the sun and may struggle to grasp electron orbitals as they’re currently conceived of: as clouds of probability.

I’ve been thinking a lot about models as I’ve been working with speakers to prepare for TEDxNewEngland this October. One speaker is using models to understand complex human behaviors. Another is exploring the ways that our mental maps can trap and limit our thinking.

Where I’m landing right now is that our reliance on models is inherently neutral. But it’s critical that we become aware of which models we’re using and be willing to challenge and change them. In order to be maximally useful, the models we create should be as accurate as possible

In our fragmented information environment, it can feel like we’re all working with different information. On top of that, we’re also working with different models of how the world works—or how we want it to work. We may carry some maps with us for decades until cultural and technological change ask us to shed them and draw new ones.

When we’re creating for an audience, fragmentation can make the challenge appear insurmountable. Humility and open-mindedness can help us be better map-readers and map-makers.

How to apply it

If you were to take for granted that your audience doesn’t share a particular mental model, how might you try to reach them differently?

Recently, I’ve seen journalists weaving details about the importance of research funding into stories about medical breakthroughs, such as in this New York Times story about the baby who received the world’s first personalized CRISPR therapy. (h/t to Christina Hernandez Sherwood for highlighting this on LinkedIn.)

Awareness of our own mental models requires thinking about thinking. Ironically, models—such as the ladder of abstraction from a couple months ago—can help. I find that systematizing reflection gives me something to react to, which can help jog loose new perspectives.

What symbols do you often mistake for the thing symbolized? What shared mental models or symbols can you draw on to make your communications even more powerful?