Genius and the Tin Standard
by Daniel M. Ryan
by Daniel M. Ryan
You haven’t
really lived until you’ve seen the smartest fella in the room being
shown up by a person with an I.Q. score near to Einstein’s. I have
to add that, if you yourself are favored with an I.Q. score enough
to qualify you for Mensa, being
shown up in this way is character-building. These three examples
will prepare you for the experience:
- The Josephus
Problem. 41 people agree to a suicide pact in which every third
man is killed, until there’s no-one left who qualifies for death.
Which two would be left standing? You reach for your favorite
means of calculation only to see someone blurt out, "assuming
that the first person killed is #3, then the sixteenth and the
thirty-first man would be left standing." Everyone else who
heard that someone looks goggle-eyed when the presenter announces
that that
is the correct solution.
- The
Bridge of Königsberg Problem. Is it possible for someone
to draw a line that crosses all seven bridges in the supplied
diagram? Out you bring your pen and paper. When they’re ready
for deployment, someone buttonholes you and says, "no. The
number of bridges has to be even." A few mental stabs and
one attempt later, you concede that the buttonholer was right
about the "no" and might as well be trusted with the
rest.
- The Bland
Grid. This puzzle faces you:

You’re allowed
to form the word "BLAND" through any five-letter sequence
in the grid: the line connecting the letters may be straight or
crooked, but the B-L-A-N-Ds which make up the word must be next
to each other. You can use each letter in the grid more than once.
How many BLANDs can you get out of this puzzle?
After beginning
to dig in, a standoffish someone shambles up to you and says "sixty-four."
His ease inclines you to work it out mentally, through breaking
the problem down into subgroups. At the end of your workout, which
ends with a feat of mental arithmetic that you’d be quite proud
of in other circumstances, you say "right." It comes out
in exactly the same tone that the professor of Britonomics did at
the end of Thornton Melon’s cram-oral exam in the climax of Back
To School.*
What enables
someone with a genius-plus I.Q. range – for this paragraph’s purpose,
about 170 or more to solve problems like these so effortlessly?
The best guess I can come up with is that they have a facility to
deal with three levels of abstraction, whereas normal human beings
are confined to two. Instead of intuitively classifying using genus
and differentia, they classify using family, genus and differentia.
To use an Aristotelian example: normal humans understand the objective-universe
axiom as "existence exists," but someone with a genius-plus
I.Q. score needs it in the form "existence exists existentially"
to get its point. A few ostensibly garbled works of ontology tip
their hand with respect to this mental knack.
I have to add
that this hunch is only my own, as far as I know: it has no scientific
backing. I got it from asking myself what could a facility with
puzzles of this sort, and a writing habit of stringing together
subordinate clauses as if they were single words, have in common.
If you want to see examples of that style of writing, you’ll find
some in the webbed back issues of the journal of the Mega
Society, a club for those with I.Q.s of approximately 175 or
greater.
Whatever their
mental acumen is, it is sufficiently noticeable to make people in
the 170-or-more I.Q. range extraordinarily susceptible to two beliefs:
eugenics, in which the superior slot is (of course) filled by them,
and group self-pity, which is sealed in through them being treated
as freaks by the rest of humanity. The end result is an odd combination:
Darwinistic pathos. A group of people, so the story goes, who can
make the "best and the brightest" look plainly stupid
have been shot out of the socio-political mainstream. They could
be doing so much for humanity, if they were "socially"
encouraged through government support, but they’re not, so we all
lose. This is, so the story continues, one of the unfairnesses of
life. Until the government steps in and remedies the posited "root
inequity," the posited lose-lose situation will continue. The
more politically hip in this circuit compare funding for gifted
kids to funds disbursed to aid students with disabilities, which
makes the former seem both "underfunded" and socially
disabled. Examples of lobby
efforts for the sake of intellectually gifted children can be
found here.
It is a shame
to see a bunch of academically gifted kids being used as beggars’
’swounds. Rather than being neglected, the gifted circuit has a
certain freedom of action that the regular school network lacks.
The trick in seeing why is to realize that government and passivity
always go together, except in times of war. Thus beginneth the lesson
unit:
Government
attempts to outcompete the free part of the economy and society
have been tried for as long as there has been government; for whatever
fashionable rationale, the package of force and "protection"
is often considered to be a better motivator than incentives and
voluntarism. Unfortunately for such attempts, a comparison of government
performance and private-sector performance has, when all relevant
factors are journaled, proven
to be embarrassing for government. Once the "failure analyses"
have been performed, it is revealed that government, in order not
to sully its prestige, had better find an area where the private
sector can’t go. Such a shift is economically rational for proponents
of government because it makes the big bad auditor-analyst go away.
Thus, government and monopoly, and secrecy for both, have a natural
affiliation.
In the United
States, government "action," outside of war, is confined
to two spheres. The first is an answer to a call of "need,"
as communicated by pressure groups; the second is attempts to "make
America Number One again." If foreign ingenuity, whether in
vivo or in Potemeko, reaches the major organs of the
United States media and shocks "the public," the second
sphere is rolled out. For government programs in the first category,
the needy have a correspondent duty to stay needy, unless a "circular
flow of need" exists. Otherwise, the nice government official
will be obligated to pound the pavement and will end up discovering
that bureaucrats are perceived to have a special need for marketable
skills. This would make many of them feel bad. So, a socially astute
need case is inclined to conclude that staying on the need rolls
is the optimal solution. It helps both the relevant client group
and the friendly bureaucrats who administer the funds and rules
for their benefit. And so life goes until someone discovers the
connection between need and passivity.
As far as the
second category is concerned, it doesn’t require a group of passive
petitioners, ones who are passive except for petitioning, to keep
it functioning. Unfortunately it does require two factors to both
start it up and keep it rolling: the United States being shown up
by another country and a large segment of the United States public
interpreting it as such. Sputnik fit both criteria; the current
foreign space programs do not. Thus, the politically good times
for the bright physicist back in the late 1950s and most of the
1960s are not around now. Since programs of this sort are both performance-based
and have a definable end to them, placing your hopes for government
money and prestige on this kind of program is as risky as finding
and using an arbitrage-based moneymaking system for the stock market.
These only get you what you want if the tide is flowing your way:
once it shifts, even King Canute (or "King Fed") can’t
bring back the profit flow. And, as far as the effectiveness of
government challenge programs are concerned, there still is that
pesky private sector, which has to be smacked down every now and
then.
If both of
these options are unsatisfying, then the only alternative is war
preparedness. Being all that you can be through figuring out why
the battlemetric models of the past weren’t good enough and how
to improve them, or through finding an especially neat way of enabling
the combat troops to kill people more efficaciously. If holding
the beggar’s bowl is too much for your pride, and the need for challenge
programs is just not there, then your only choice, if you want sinecure-quality
government help, is to apply your fine mind to "Roads of Baghdad"-style
puzzles. That’s the only permanent government-guaranteed use for
the very bright, except for those who master the knack of whatever
passes for collegiality in the academy without getting gulled or
shafted (‘"Go" to Gone’) in the process.
When all of
the above factors are considered, being supposedly shut out of the
supposed government cornucopia is not that much of a deficit after
all – it can be quite liberating. Acceleration issues mean nada
in the homeschooling circuit, where every child’s expected to be
a self-starting child. There
is a time-proven homeschooling kit which covers every grade
level, from kindergarten to grade 12, at a price cheaper than a
single unabridged copy of Whitehead and Russell’s Principia
Mathematica (even a used one) costs. There are also lots
of homeschoolers already, and they tend to be appreciative, not
jealous or envious, of academic prize-winners from their ranks.
As far as wealth
is concerned, there is one huge field – computer programming – with
a lot of bright people who still admire mental acumen as well as
earnings potential. The old-fashioned ones, at the very least, still
admire mental fireworks of any sort, even of mastery of puzzles.
As a result, there is a lot less pressure in the private-sector
bright circuit to acquire a money-loving heart than you might assume.
Bill Gates is still an embarrassment/joke in some computer-programmer
social circles, but unlike the typical politico, whether Republican,
Democrat, or intellectual, he just shrugs it off. There is a blessed
easygoingness for the "severely gifted" in the private
sector, which only evaporates when someone becomes severely competitive.
All it takes to merit respect is a performance ethos, which is interpreted
quite broadly: even cracking a math conjecture, or Internet peer
tutoring, qualifies. The reputed "get-up-off-your-donkey"
circuit, rumored to be prevalent, is actually quite scarce, and
is confined to politicos who are easy to avoid in private-sector-land
if you’re small. It’s easy to be liked, unless you yourself are
pegged as a politico, or as a backtalker, or as both. The intersection
between the two categories is something akin to "hypocrite."
If, unfortunately,
this kind of life don’t satisfy because the prestige level is low,
then there’s only one alternative to reclaiming "parity prestige":
cultivating a martial mindset. This attitude was the base of the
prestige of the "rocket scientist" ‘way back then. Here’s
what it takes to win yer prestige: concentration upon the armory,
the whole armory, and nothing but the armory. This implies that
the heights are reached by figuring out better ways of killing or
capturing people who your government has deemed to be the enemy
– who sometimes are your fellow citizens. (A
relevant study unit.) Diplomats, as well as non-combat analysts,
very much have to live with this ethos too: both are seen by the
war implementers as something akin to the towel boy. Any professional
diplomat has to accept it as part of the job.
Thus, if you
place your hopes for security in the hands of government, then it’s
either the Sword or the Cross (or its secularized equivalent in
this context). As noted above, mendicancy is part of the latter
way. Thanks to that attribute, the academy is not the safe haven
it might appear, although academic dependence does normally take
the form of academic jealousy, not of academic beggary. There’s
also a certain kind of tunnel vision required with respect to political
issues, a burden that all pressure groups have to assume. Free is
just another word for "then you’re washing the dishes instead.
So get to it or it’s hustling taxi driver tips for you." You
have to either adapt to this kind of pressure or learn to love "Kambodia
Kill."
Far better
to cogitate over the implications of an old puzzle cracked by none
other than Murray
N. Rothbard: Buridan’s Ass. It
goes like so:
This is the
fable of the ass who stands, hungry, equidistant from two equally
attractive bales of hay, or, thirsty, equidistant from two water
holes. Since the two bales or water holes are equally attractive
in every way, the ass can choose neither one and must therefore
starve. This example is supposed to prove the great relevance
of indifference to action and to be an indication of the way that
indifference is revealed in action. Compounding confusion, Schumpeter
refers to this ass as "perfectly rational."
The answer?
[I]t is of
course difficult to conceive of an ass or a person that could
be less rational. He is confronted not with two choices, but with
three, the third being to starve where he is. Even on the indifferentists’
own grounds, this third choice will be ranked lower than the other
two on the actor’s value scale. He will not choose starvation.
Or so we "assume."
* The correct
answer is 60.
July
29, 2006
Daniel
M. Ryan [send him mail]
is a Canadian whose reach sometimes exceeds his grasp. He is currently
working on a book on Objectivism.
Copyright
© 2006 LewRockwell.com
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