“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 yo_u” she said.
I’ve lived my life on a strange intellectual swing, sometimes leaning back smugly towards genius, sometimes flung forward into stupidity. People meeting me tend to form one of two distinct impressions: some think I’m sharp, others think I’m on day release. – I’m like the Marmite of minds, and conflictingly, I agree with them both.
A large chunk of this stems from my past. Back in the halcyon days of the 80s, I was charmingly diagnosed as “retarded”.
These days, of course, autism is no longer recognised as broken, but just a different way of thinking. Though knowing that doesn’t stop the original label from tap-dancing in my head. Ever since, I’ve been haunted by the 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, as is resourcefulness, then am I intelligent because I’m not intelligent?
I’ve always liked to believe that everyone is intelligent in their own way, like a character build in a computer game, – everyone has the same number of points, but distributed to different stats. However, over time, after extensive exposure to people, it’s becoming increasingly difficult to maintain this view when some people are clearly just… furniture.
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 – suggesting a common thread.
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, education, and test-taking skills, and they capture performance at a moment in time, not potential. So yes, IQ tests measure something – but not the whole story.
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 really just describing talents, which is fair. But the idea has appeal, 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 of course, maybe it’s not and you’re content driving an Audi instead.
But anyway, back to me (because this is my blog so I’m the most important). When someone judges me on memory, I look like an idiot. 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.
So what is intelligence? 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.
“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)
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 a disco ball – refracts, changes, and sometimes blinds people.
“I always talk before I think” he said.
“So when does the thinking part come in?” she asked.
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