Societal Norms

The Dance

I’ve noticed a pattern among the intelligent that can be a great boon or a grave disadvantage, and I want to offer some advice about it.

I don’t think I’m alone among my peers in viewing social interactions, especially in crowds and populations, as fascinating from an anthropological perspective. We watch the sometimes crude, sometimes subtle dance of evolutionary psychology play out with a predictable and occasionally hypnotic rhythm.

The difference between people like me and the population at large, is that they are fully engaged in this dance, while we are interlopers. To us, the dance is transparent, like the moving parts of a Rube Goldberg machine, each activating the next in a pattern that is interesting but entirely mechanical and arbitrary.

The Wallflower

This is the dance of norms, and most participate blindly — perhaps as the Goldberg parts rather than an observer of the machine. Those who do observe choose to participate to one degree or another, and the literature indicates that the degree of participation is inversely proportional to intelligence.

Genius caliber minds tend to be cloistered and anti-social. They often don’t like people and people often don’t like them. The reason is this dance: the genius ignores the dance that is implicit in other people’s way of thinking and mode of behavior. He regards their expectations as silly, while others are troubled by his refusal to adhere to conventions.

This mutual distrust is not ideal.

In the Groove

I’ve mentioned previously on this blog that I deliberately undertook to learn this dance — to understand people on a visceral level– and as a result, I am more “well-adjusted” than most geniuses. Whether this is the natural result of my IQ, which is low for a genius, or the fruits of my study and practice (or some combination thereof), I can dance, and dance well. The movement still feels awkward at times, but I’ve grown accustomed to talking and moving in certain ways that I might not feel compelled to if I had no interest in other people.

There is no subterfuge here. I honestly want to interact naturally with people, and it’s a skill I’ve practiced. If that’s lying, then so is learning and practicing any kind of skill.

Finding the Rhythm

Here’s the rub: dancing well requires balance. The quintessential anti-social genius behaves the way he does because of some sense of efficiency — “Why should I bother interacting with people, when there are all these plants to catalog? The plants don’t care what I wear or how I talk, and neither do I.” That sentiment is true but can only be applied in a limited context.

The larger question is, should these plants be cataloged at all? Or more directly: what experiences should I have during my life? What shall I accomplish in the time I have?

I’ve found that most important experiences relate to other people in some way. I have come to view the extremely anti-social genius as disabled: fundamentally unable to function in their lives in a meaningful way. We can all catalog and calculate, but who among us can make the world a genuinely better place?

On the other hand, it’s impossible to say that people who conform to norms automatically contribute value to the world. I think it’s fair to say that those who are obsessed with the trappings of the dance are as uniformly useless as those geniuses whose legacy includes taxonomies of vehicle transfers.

I propose a middle way: I believe we should choose some norms to adhere to and some to discard as actively harmful. We adhere to the socially helpful or neutral norms, and by ignoring the harmful ones, we maximize the value and perhaps personal satisfaction in our lives.

Go to a Toastmaster’s meeting and learn to speak to people. Read some popular psychology books to practice your body language. It pains me to say it, but I know there are people out there who need to hear it: hygiene is important, and you might as well wear clothing that suits your body and is relatively stylish.

Discard the nonsense that really holds you back, but embrace the small changes you can make it your life that will make you more approachable. This will open up personal, professional, and intellectual doors that you won’t have access to otherwise.

If Mr. Plant Cataloger put on some decent clothing and stopped staring at his feet when he spoke to people, he might find some fascinating new opportunities to catalog exotic plants along side his mind-bendingly brilliant and gorgeous life partner. Good luck to you, Mr. Plant Cataloger, I wish you the best.