The Ivory Tower

This is a place for me to think out loud (or 'on paper') all things that are interesting me, and to comment on things I want to remember. Naming my blog the Ivory Tower is a joke on the popular notion that philosophy and intelligence are something beyond the common man, somehow above the 'mean' act of living as a human. Rand's refutation of this is what immediately drew me to her. Feel free to introduce yourself.

9.08.2005

Intelligence

Has this ever happened to you:
You're arguing with someone who doesn't agree with you on some aspect of reality, maybe a priest. After you've presented your argument and are waiting for his reply, he begins by complimenting your intelligence, then proceeds to deny what you've just said.

This is an irritating pet peeve of mine. Beyond being baldly obsequious (ie. the person with whom you're arguing doesn't have the balls to flat-out state he thinks you're a moron), I've always found it oddly disconcerting; it stops me in my mental tracks. But it's simply a compliment, and such compliments from certain people I can take graciously. So I've been wondering what it is about this particular type of situation, this particular compliment, that bothers me.

Now to the 'ah-ha' moment...

What exactly is intelligence? Intelligence is the ability to abstract (if anyone disagrees with my definition, speak now and we'll talk about it). But anyone can abstract, it is a (if not the) defining trait of humans. What makes the difference between a petty mystic and great genius, is whether or not your abstraction corroborates reality. Take Plato for example, his theory of forms is a complex and interesting abstraction ... which has nothing to do with reality. I'd admit he's intelligent, but I still think he's a rat-bastard.

This person with whom I'm arguing obviously doesn't think my abstraction models reality (because he's disagreeing), yet he still calls me intelligent, as though it is supposed to mean something significant (ie. "I agree with your model of reality and congratulate you on abstracting it") when it so blatantly doesn't. He may as well congratulate me on not having brain damage; because, whether or not I'm correct, by Jove I have a functioning human brain. Think about that for a minute, how would you feel if something, very seriously, walked up to you and said, "Wow. You know, you really are good at not being brain damaged." What could you possibly say to such a person? "Thank you, I practice being human every day."

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