BINARY INTELLIGENCE

“Apparently, talking to yourself is a sign of intelligence” she said
“Because you’re introspective?” he asked
“No, because nobody else wants to talk to you” she said.

I exist, intellectually speaking, as a pendulum, either leaning back smugly towards genius, or I’m flung forward into stupidity. People meeting me tend to form one of two confidently conceived conclusions – I’m sharp, or I’m on day release, and, like the Marmite of minds, conflictingly, I agree with them both.

Much of this was shaped by my past where back in the geometric patterned days of the 80s, I was charmingly diagnosed as “retarded”.

Nowadays autism is no longer recognised as broken, but the original label still haunts like a stone in the shoe, forever asking the same question – am I clever, or am I just really good at covering it up?

For my own weakness is memory, it’s close to zero, yet, perhaps because of this, I’ve grown highly resourceful, – like a genius born yesterday, I solve problems by finding ways around them. But if memory is intelligence, and resourcefulness is intelligence, am I then intelligent because I am not?

I have always preferred to believe that intelligence is distributed like points in a character build – every person granted the same total, but diversely allocated. However, over time, after extensive exposure to people, that belief is becoming increasingly difficult to maintain when some people persistently present themselves less as complex distributions of potential and more as furniture. Very nice furniture, and Facebook is a wonderful showroom, but still…

“And his shelves housed many books but rarely did he employ them, for like credentials they hung, and rightly so – the trust of many is worth the world in facts” – Beep Beep (yes, I quoted myself)

What is intelligence?
The traditional view, developed in the early 1900s by Charles Spearman, is that intelligence has a general factor (called g) which underlies all mental abilities. Do well on one test, and you’ll likely do well on others.

IQ tests were built to measure this g. They assess problem-solving, logic, pattern recognition, and verbal reasoning, but they’re far from perfect, they measure only certain types of ability, they’re influenced by culture, polished by education, dependent on test-taking skills, and they capture performance at a moment in time, not potential. However, due to their reputation as a complete measurement, I would argue – and I do argue, here, now, on the page, that these tests do more harm than good and should be heavily caveated as being ‘just for fun’. The only redemption is that I can make that claim, and no one can argue with me, because I have a very high IQ, so either you’re wrong or you’re wrong.

Later, psychologists Raymond Cattell and John Horn came along and split intelligence like a bad divorce: fluid intelligence (problem-solving, pattern-spotting, being clever on the fly), and crystallised intelligence (facts, vocabulary, and being able to ride a bike). John Carroll expanded this further into a three-layer model: narrow abilities (like memory span or processing speed), broader abilities (like visual or auditory processing), and at the top, a general factor (g).

This model accepts both, – a broad general ability, and the many smaller abilities that make each person unique.

Then there was Howard Gardner, who threw the whole thing in a blender and served up Multiple Intelligences: word-smart, number-smart, people-smart, body-smart, and so on.

Critics say he was cataloguing talents, three stars, which is fair, but the idea has appeal, because it allows us all to feel like we’re good at something, even if that something is identifying mushrooms or folding towels.

Robert Sternberg added his Triarchic Theory: analytical (the stuff school loves), creative (the stuff school hates), and practical (the stuff you need when trying to open a jar with a spoon and a belt).

Meanwhile, forgotten as always at the back of the class – emotional and social intelligence – the ability to read people, manage emotions, and connect effectively – which I’d argue is the most important of them all – if having money and being loved is important to you. Or maybe you don’t care about money and love and instead opted to just be an Audi driver instead.

But anyway, back to me, because this is my blog so I’m the most important. –

So what do I think intelligence is?
When someone judges me on memory, I look like an idiot, but when they test me on problem-solving, I can appear intelligent. The truth is, like everyone, I’m a unique mixture of strengths and weaknesses.

It’s not just memory or logic or a score on a test. It’s creativity, adaptability, self-awareness, problem-solving, emotional nuance, and occasionally knowing when to shut up. It’s what helps us survive, connect, create, or at the very least, convincingly pretend we know what we’re doing.

Many of the greatest inventors come from the wrong field, so they bring unfamiliar perspectives to familiar problems. Experts, meanwhile, can overlook the obvious, trapped by the complexity of their own expertise.

The success of our species was down to our ability to work together, because it allowed for diversity in ideas with the scope for specialisations. Rome wasn’t built in a day, and it wasn’t built by one person either.

Intelligence needs to stop being viewed as a ranking, because it’s more like a network. Which is why the whole binary of smart or stupid is… stupid, and why I am all three. Because intelligence isn’t a single spotlight you can point at people like you’re the Mysterons, it’s the disco ball in a room full of people – refracts, reflects, and sometimes blinds people.