2026-06-11
I keep returning to this thought on IQ, so I have to write it down before it drives me insane.
I've been in a lot of online spaces where people place so much stock in that number, like it determines one's life outcomes in a way that is precisely out of their control. It makes people feel hopeless for their own future, that they aren't good enough to live their own damn life. But IQ, while purported by figures like Jordan Peterson to be this quintessential indicator for societal performance, is perhaps the most unreliable indicator out there. Here's the metaphor I've been repeating to myself ad nauseam to describe IQ: imagine an IQ test, and the test is to climb a tree. Taking the test, we have a monkey, a bird, and a fish. The monkey does really well, of course. The fish? Not so well, of course. And the bird? He can get up the tree faster than the monkey, but fails at the test because he flies instead of climbs. IQ is exactly this; many of us have probably heard that misattributed Einstein quote about how we can't judge a fish on climbing a tree, and the metaphor I described extends that a bit further.
More than that, we all have times where we feel like the monkey, the fish, and the bird. Everyone has different talents and different domains of expertise, and IQ is perhaps the most one-dimensional way to define intelligence despite test-makers' intent on quantifying something as multifaceted and illusory as cognition and imagination. I'm not going to be some woke idiot either and tell you that IQ is racist, because it's not. There's good intellectual intent with quantifying intelligence, and I respect those test makers for making a wholehearted attempt at doing so, but the problem revolves more around the commentary behind it and the constant groan-inducing discourse surrounding it.
Here's the thing: we truly live in a midwit's world. Most people fall within the 90-110 IQ range, and the world is built around those types of cognition. Of course, I don't want to go and say that people with extremely low IQs are like fish because intellectual disability is a real handicap; if someone tests that low in IQ and has legitimate problems functioning in the world, we should work to accommodate them in ways that help them pursue happiness the same way everyone else does. But here's where IQ discourse takes a massive wrong turn: we seem to think that people with exceptionally high IQs (135+) are going to be particularly successful individuals. Dr. K made a great video describing the difficulties of high IQ people; since we live in a midwit's world, highly intelligent people are a bit more handicapped because their "intelligence" actually makes it more difficult for them to communicate and collaborate with others.
People thrive socially when there is parity. When everyone on a certain team feels like they can equally contribute, this fosters enough cohesion to induce high performance and positive outcomes. High IQ people, like the birds they are, get a lot of flack for flapping up to the top of the tree faster than the monkeys can climb it, and so they get outcast in certain ways. Things feel particularly boring for them; while the monkeys spend a lot of energy investing in their skill of tree climbing, the bird doesn't have to make that kind of effort. It just flies on instinct. With IQ, there are significant diminishing returns around the 120 mark. Anything above 120 actually leads to more functional decline than anything else. When the world feels like you're hanging out with a bunch of people who simply just "don't get it," certain status indicators become unappealing to pursue. Why would someone want a high-paying job if it just means doing more stupid work to do more stupid things with more stupid people?
I've always bemoaned being called smart, which comes off as a weird flex, but I bemoan it because once someone clocks me as smart, they begin to expect a lot more out of me socially and assume competence where there actually isn't a whole lot of it. I can know things and be eloquent, but there's so much stuff I'm not good at. I have horrible spatial intelligence, tough time thinking visually, and am just kind of autistic. So what'll happen is that people will assume I'm going to be some kind of mega-competent-leader-genius when in reality I'm just a weird dude who reads a lot and really likes music. Then after a time, people realize I'm not as competent as they initially thought, and it builds resentment in ways I can't control. So when someone calls me smart, I just say "thanks, man" and hope they don't expect too much of me later on.
It's been a tough ride trying to double down on what I'm good at while managing and compensating for my shortcomings. I'm emotionally volatile, prone to maladaptive abstractions, and put my foot way too hard on the gas—crashing and burning out. However, I try my best to be a good friend, family member, stranger, and acquaintance to whoever I end up in front of. I'm really good at figuring people out, and I try to use that to help people find parity where we can so that we all can feel meaningful, purposeful, and less alone.
Let me fly, if you'll let me.
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