John Raven, son of renowned psychologist John Carlyle Raven, opens up about growing up with his father in a new reflection timed for the 90th anniversary of the famous Raven Progressive Matrices test in 2026. The non verbal intelligence tool, created by his dad and used by millions worldwide, marks a milestone as John turns 90 too, offering fresh insights into the legacy of Scotland’s greatest psychologist.
Wartime Days and Family Survival
Life during World War II shaped young John Raven’s early years with his father in a rural spot near Colchester, England. The family set up a small farm to stay self sufficient amid shortages and fears of invasion. They raised animals and grew food, turning everyday challenges into lessons in resourcefulness.
John recalls a painting of their cottage by Henry Collins, the artist who illustrated the Progressive Matrices items. His father, ever practical, asked a doctor friend to find the place. There, they kept a dozen hens, seven goats, and about 100 rabbits. The rabbits provided pelts for clothing and blankets, while gleaning rights let them collect crops from local fields. They even used the family car, approved for psychological fieldwork, to haul straw and hay for animal feed and windbreaks.
Building the garage stands out as a clever wartime hack. Made from whole trees for potential fuel, with a thatched roof and buried coal in the floor, it showed his father’s worry about German forces. Bombs dropped nearby made the threat feel real, closer than history books often say.
- Key wartime adaptations included:
- Raising rabbits for pelts and meat to make family clothing.
- Constructing haystacks as both food storage and shelter from wind.
- Designing a multi purpose garage with built in fuel sources for emergencies.
Move to Scotland and Hospital Life
The family relocated to Dumfries, Scotland, where John Carlyle Raven took a key role at the Crichton Royal Institution, a major mental health facility. This shift brought new routines, blending farm work with the hospital’s therapeutic programs. Patients helped with milking cows and tending gardens, viewing these tasks as part of healing.
In Dumfries, the boys slept in a simple three room hut that John helped build. Visiting professors sometimes stayed there, adding a touch of surprise to family life. The hospital supplied fresh milk, vegetables, and flowers from its farm, delivered by patients who chatted with their cans on the way. It even housed German prisoners of war who maintained the grounds around the family lodge, one trying to talk buses with young John in broken English.
The Crichton Royal stood out for its progressive approach. It avoided physical restraints, kept patients active, and built facilities like a swimming pool, gym, library, theater, and occupational therapy center. All these became part of daily life for the Raven family. A special farm building served as a ward for patient workers, highlighting how labor aided recovery.
John remembers tours of the vast hospital grounds, using his father’s pass key to all wards. Nothing seemed too shocking, thanks to the humane policies. Yet, one clash lingers: a big argument between his father and a psychiatrist over a unit for troubled kids. Locks on the unit got picked at night, disturbing the family, and it clashed with John Carlyle’s views from his early teaching days.
Father’s Work Ethic and Innovations
John Carlyle Raven’s dedication defined home life. He spent hours in bed thinking deeply, then dictated ideas to his wife for books on psychology. This method led to clear, impactful writing, typed later by a secretary. Visitors sought him out, like an American asking locals for the bald headed, bearded man on his morning bike ride.
What set him apart was action over talk. He convinced a wartime tribunal to let him follow his profession as a conscientious objector, a rare win. At the Crichton Royal, he founded the Department of Psychological Research in town, away from the hospital, to keep psychologists independent from psychiatrists. He saw treatment as aggressive, pushing instead for self understanding to foster growth.
His biggest gift, the Raven Progressive Matrices, started in the 1930s. This non verbal test measures abstract reasoning and general intelligence without language bias, perfect for global use. Born from ideas by Charles Spearman on the g factor, it fixed flaws in old tests like Stanford Binet. John Carlyle plotted item curves to ensure fair difficulty levels, a step ahead of modern theories.
| Milestone in Raven Progressive Matrices History | Description |
|---|---|
| 1936 | John Carlyle’s MSc thesis outlines the test’s design for eductive ability. |
| 1938 | First versions published: Colored for children and less able, Standard for general use. |
| 1940s | Adapted for WWII military screening, boosting worldwide adoption. |
| 1960s | Expanded with Advanced Progressive Matrices for high ability groups. |
| 2026 | 90th anniversary highlights ongoing research into intelligence origins. |
The test’s impact grew fast. During the war, a quick version helped select soldiers in diverse settings. Today, it aids education, jobs, and research, with studies showing score rises over generations due to better environments, like gains in height or lifespan.
Personal Influence and Broader Legacy
Growing up, John felt little direct sway from his father’s fame. Important guests came and went, but home focused on practical tasks. Still, the ethos of doing what matters stuck. John later became a psychologist himself, carrying on work with the Matrices and vocabulary scales.
John Carlyle’s early struggles fueled his drive. Orphaned young, dyslexic, and caring for family, he taught at a school for disabled kids before university. Friendships with giants like Spearman and Lionel Penrose shaped his path. At Crichton Royal from 1944 to 1964, he studied normal minds to understand abnormal ones, influencing modern views on mental health.
Recent talks tie into today’s debates on intelligence testing. Amid anti testing pushes and replicability issues, the Matrices stand firm with solid, cross cultural data. Tommy McKay, past head of the British Psychological Society, dubbed him Scotland’s greatest for good reason. His 1966 book on individuation pushed new ways to assess motives and skills, still relevant in therapy and education.
John’s reflections remind us of the human side behind big ideas. His father’s blend of thought and action built tools that help millions grasp their potential. As the test nears 90 years, it sparks questions on smarts, environment, and growth in our fast changing world.
What do you think of John Carlyle’s lasting mark on psychology? Share your thoughts in the comments below and spread this story to spark more chats on intelligence testing history.
