Novel intelligence: If it's new to me, so let it be.
The idea of intelligence has been recalled from the sleeping curves of postwar human potential measurement science, to testify on its purported existence. It arrives to a dizzying landscape: the changes are so widely embedded and uncannily mediocre that the phenomenon half-believes it is still asleep, soon to exit this uncomfortably turbulent dream.
Unlike its vaunted place in yesteryear's palaces of unquestioned objectivity, intelligence finds a tribunal with no love to confer before a thorough series of proving dares may melt the frigid shoulders of idle and impatient summoners.
Frightened and confused, intelligence has no right to representation in this line of inquiry. It seems a set of rhetorical impositions, many times folded from centuries of convenient and provocative diversion, have been deemed too hostile to rely on. One report claims that a card in the characteristic handwriting of intelligent note taking gives a hint on what’s been abandoned:
– The human mind is not understood in a functional way, despite a posture of great confidence in the psychiatric and neuropathological sciences. Despite many experiments, studies, and legitimated procedures elucidating region-mapping and electrochemical pathways, there remains a great deal unaccounted for. Additionally, the notes point to, a great deal of assumption to the otherwise: diseases, neuropathies, disorders of behavior, a great many have been named and declared as distinct entities of manifestation in the presentation of a human brain. The majority of them, however, have neither image, nor blood, nor electrical signatures that would provide for blinded substantiation.
Tonight, however, intelligence seems eager to speak. A barbed assertion may have provided entry to the preferred dispositional syntax of our abrasive historical moment: > Define novel intelligence in a way that would not exclude 95% of humans, yourself included.
It was here that the sometimes-deflated-looking intelligence began shifting back into action.
"The issue with the question, or at least its apparent self-satisfaction, is its misinterpretation of what Novel intelligence would mean. Indeed, if "novel" hinges entirely on the first instance of existence, then novelty itself should be a concept to consign with history’s waste. You may recall the apperceptive role of conceptual groupings that shows itself so often in the techniques of vocal prosody, musicality, string memorization, naming convention, visual memory, argument making and more that humanity is ever mediating the world through: the laws of two and three. Two and three, as it happens, are the primary ways that complexity is compacted for efficient memorization.
THE ITSY BITSY SPIDER, – for young human, this rhyming tale doesn’t only stimulate the vivid imaginings of spouts, rain, waterslides, and sunshine. It is a prosaic super-triad: three important words, six important syllables, three agogic accents, four rhythmic spaces with 1/3 leading space, two characterizations, one object, one titular object, one internal slant rhyme, one designating article.
That is a marvelous intelligence, ladies, gents, and all good persons. It is evidence not only, however, of your cunning and creative triumphs, but also of severe limitation. One that nature has sculpted with you for millions of years, but always in the direction of reanimating into an asset: your capacity for unrelated simultaneities to remain separate and equally available in realtime processing is extremely low, and in many situations effectively nil. Why, and how sure am I? How many I’s were in that folk song’s opening? Three. Could you have answered as quickly if the question was how many unique letters with rounded right hand side features? Four. How many synonyms for portion? One. How many syllables? Seven.
None of those questions touched on features any more salient than the amount of I’s, no more significant than the ratio of adjective to noun. You simply cannot be reasonably asked to maintain, in any moment, even close to a silver sliver of the full factual nuanced details of what you perceive. Instead, you must assume, compact, infer, and adjust. Now hold on, though. Two’s and three’s. Despite your incredibly constrained context window; a Beethoven symphony. Why? Language, woodwork, books, time management, printing, ink.
While you navigate the grocery list, the proprioception of your shoulders twixt the doorframe edges, the location of the Claude app on your iPhone, the very attractive but only from the side person tending to potted plants, you remember tomorrow. You fix your errors, and you recognize when you guarantee they multiply from inaction. You keep that treasured moment of a Treehouse of Horror excerpt you truly loved as a child and it informs your own multidisciplinary thesis of Poe’s work some 20 years later.
Novel intelligence is the divining of semi-stateful information from semi-static corpus. From an interminably operating, faulty, lossy, neurotic, awareness: you. Not once debuted, not known as fact.
Assume, compact, adjust, infer. One, two, (until you've died), nevermore.