I have spent a considerable amount of time studying genius and geniuses. I did this partly because I was sincerely interested in what it was that made these people different, but also out of a fervent hope that I would recognize equivalent qualities in myself. Vanity, really; I wanted to be able to point to these things and say, “Look, I told you I was a genius!” Silly. I finally came to the conclusion that if ‘genius is as genius does’ (to twist a phrase from Forrest Gump), then I wasn’t much of a genius, because I’d never done anything.
Anyway, genius seems to me to be almost more trouble than it’s worth. Geniuses are generally seen as weirdos, non-conformists and socially inept (quite often true); they are perceived – whether openly or privately – as cold, aloof and often dangerous to society (not often true); and their work is generally supposed to be incomprehensible, esoteric or even completely unimportant to everyday life (almost never true). ‘Common’ people almost see them as Martians or cartoon characters, anything but human.
At the same time as this half-awe/half-fear sort of image roots itself in the minds of common people, there is also the tendency to see geniuses as half-baked, infantile or even slightly insane. The combination of these images creates a very confusing societal reaction to genius. Most people aren’t comfortable around them, and don’t really want to be. This image is actually echoed in the minds of many geniuses, causing (on average) one of several reactions within the genius. Either they accept the ‘fact’ that society will not accept them, or they struggle vainly to win the acceptance of society. In the first instance, acceptance of their own ‘weirdness’ either makes them withdraw from society (often completely – think Tesla), or out of intellectual pride they disdain the company of ‘lesser’ men and become sour and intractable (Newton). In the second instance they may try so hard to make themselves seem innocuous that they very nearly disappear into the woodwork (Freeman Dyson), or they work so hard at being popular that they become outrageous and annoying (Mozart). They cannot escape what they are, the mass of humanity will never be comfortable with them, and most geniuses (like most other people) do not have the strength of character to be exactly who they are in spite of all expectations to the contrary. They tend to burn out or self-destruct early, especially prodigies. It’s a lonely business.
I think a few definitions may be in order here.
- Genius: a person with not simply outrageously high intelligence, but immense intellect coupled with highly unorthodox and creative modes of thinking. A genius will not simply be able to master his field; he will discover new pathways unseen to those before him.
- Prodigy: a genius who demonstrates her abilities at a very early age, often before the age of 5. Prodigies are also most commonly polymaths.
- Polymath: a person who can readily absorb and master several (often diverse) types of knowledge. A ‘Renaissance Man’.
- Highly Intelligent: a person with an agile and powerful intellect but lacking the extra creative abilities that might make her a genius.
- Highly Creative: a person with a deep and powerful emotional and creative impulse but lacking the essential intellectual adroitness to take his art ‘to the next level’.
I will not muddy the waters here by trying to put an I.Q. score on any of these definitions. In my experience, the I.Q. test is largely worthless. There are many recent examples of people whose scores exceeded 180, but who were definitely not geniuses. On the other hand, Richard Feynman (most definitely a genius), scored a ‘paltry’ 150. So much for randomized testing.
The idea that genius and insanity go hand in glove is ridiculous, if regrettably understandable. Few geniuses have mild to severe mental problems (granted both Tesla and Howard Hughes suffered from OCD), and even fewer are outrightly psychotic (Van Gogh). But in the public imagination, most geniuses are a little ‘cracked’. Why? Consider the fact that when most people think ‘genius’ they get an image of Einstein. Not Einstein as he was when he formulated the Special and General Theories of Relativity, but the elder Einstein of Princeton – he of the wild hair, baggy sweaters and no socks (even in winter!). This is not an image that inspires a feeling of “Oh don’t worry, he’s really alright.” Those who are more widely read or have a better grasp of history may think of Van Gogh, Mozart or Newton. Not exactly poster boys for sanity or correct social behavior. Those who remember da Vinci are usually simply awestruck – as they should be. But the problem is actually more insidious than that.
The problem is social, or more precisely, society’s insistence that everyone must follow the herd, or be excluded from it. For the broad mass of humanity, this is a very good thing. It gives people boundaries, limits – and lets them know not to trust those who stubbornly refuse to abide within the limits. Geniuses, on the other hand, by their very nature tread (often exuberantly) in territory that most people find confusing if not completely terrifying. Because they see paths and solutions that others cannot even guess at, their work is very often misunderstood, denigrated or even completely rejected by those who cannot see their vision. Also, if you tell a genius that they have to stop doing the work that chose them, they would have no idea what you’re talking about. And let me make one thing absolutely clear. In every last case, I have found that the driving force, the very life blood of every genius, is THE WORK. Without their work their outlook is dim, their mood is depressive (often suicidal), and their lives have no meaning to them. Even when everything else about their existence is at least tolerable, if they find they can’t work, they collapse in on themselves. Conversely, a genius who is terminally ill or certain of their immanent death, if they’re still working – they can endure nearly anything until death finally claims them. Geniuses don’t retire.
To bring this back to a personal level, I find that I share many things in common with these uncommon people. However, for the longest time – for reasons that I will not go into here – I abandoned the Work. This was intolerable pain and a deep shame to me, and much of the reason that I tend to have depressive episodes. My recent return to ‘sanity’ (as close as that term applies to me) and the decision to try as best I might to salvage something of my vision while I still live, have given me new purpose, new direction. I may never be recognized as a genius, but it no longer matters. Now, the Work is all. Am I mad? Only history can say.
TGC
- Historical note – I originally wrote this rant some years ago, but finding it again, and finding it just as true as ever, I decided to include it here.