The Genius in All of Us

Living In One's Own Shadow: The "Thriller" Paradox

So many difficult questions emerge from the surreal life and sad loss of Michael Jackson. Here's one: What do you do when your greatest success is almost certainly behind you?

A lot of people have no patience for a question like this. "Oh, I'd love to have his problems." (For some reason, this line is best said out loud in a female Cockney accent.) 

But for anyone with creative ambition, the emotional aftermath of success is a very real part of life. If you're lucky enough to have any sort of audience for your work, it's overwhelmingly likely that one particular piece of work will be a popular favorite over the rest of your work. It may or may not be your best as you see it. But because of the timing and the zeitgeist and other unnameable factors, it will forever be your "biggest work."

Elizabeth Gilbert, author of the mega-hit Eat, Pray, Love, spoke about this quite eloquently at the most recent TED conference.

So: How to live with the possibility that your best work is behind you, or at least that the public will forever think that your best work is behind you? 

It occurs to me that there are two different responses to this problem. Both are valid, and they're not nearly as mutually exclusive as they appear at first:

1. Face it.

2. Deny it.

On the one hand, any creative person has to accept the reality of creative peaks, and that one particular peak will always be the peakiest. As Ricky Gervais once said after the wildly critical success of "The Office": "Something has to be your best work."

On the other hand, it is the compulsion of any creative mind to constantly strive for something new and fresh; I don't think it is possible to be truly fertile without the conviction that your best work is ahead of you. 

___________

The Genetics of Mathematics

Behold the feats of 27-year old Frenchman Alexis Lemaire, who just accurately calculated the 13th root of a random 200 -digit number. I was alerted to this achievement by my Uncle Stan, who feels that it must be proof of a genetic gift since this ability could not be learned or taught.

My (admittedly incomplete) reply to Stan:

***
Stan,

First, you need to back away from your argument about genetics, because genes don't work that way. It's entirely understandable that you think they do. I did too. For a century, we've all been taught that genes contain information and programming for how our minds and bodies are supposed to develop. This is wrong. Genes don't contain such intricate plans. I know this sounds preposterous, but it's true, and I will demonstrate it to you in the opening chapters of my book. I'm as shocked by this stuff as everyone else will be, and it does require a very strange reorientation of some rock-solid beliefs.

Second, you are illustrating a false choice: either this man's problem-solving ability is innate (genetic) or it is learned/taught. The missing option there is that it is *developed* -- developed from the first moment of conception to the very moment of his latest calculation; developed from an incalculable number of dynamic interactions between genes, hormones, nutrients, thoughts, emotions, actions, movements, curiosities, and so on. Putting all of this into a development paradigm fits two important truths:

A. Genes are not directors. They are actors, along with other equally important actors. It is an ensemble, and the product created is only possible as a result of that ensemble. A trumpet player does not make jazz on his own. He needs to interact with the other players. Human development is a jazz improvisation. It follows certain rules, but the outcome develops from the interaction.

B. "Development" does not imply that everything is under our control, or ever will be. If we say that anything can be taught/learned, we imply that we have near-100% control over the process. We don't. We don't control which gene actors are inside each developing fetus, nor do we control how many trees are growing in the front yard. Nor do we control the content of the water that the mother is drinking. Nor do we control all the cultural messages the baby comes into contact with. What we can do, though, is learn more about all these variables, and perhaps gain a little bit more control over some of them. It's not a guaranteed recipe to create exactly the individual capabilities we desire, but it is a plan to nudge all of humanity in the right direction.

David

The surprising realities of Absolute Pitch and Tone Deafness

Glenn Gould had it -- so did Beethoven, Bach, Mozart, Horowitz and Sinatra. On the surface, absolute pitch seems like the province of musical geniuses -- the exotic gift that they have and we don't. But the truth about absolute pitch -- and the opposite phenomenon of tone deafness -- is much more interesting, and helps us understand what "musical talent" really is and isn't.

What is Absolute Pitch?
Absolute pitch (AP) is the ability to produce and identify a certain musical tone without any reference tone. A person with AP is able to hum middle C or any other note on request, without any prompting from a song or an instrument.

How common is AP?
In strict definitional terms, AP is pretty rare -- somewhere between 1 in 10,000 and 1 in 2000 in the general population. But the rare part is the note-naming, not the note reproducing. Many studies have now shown that most people can sing a familiar song in the right key without being given a reference tone, and that virtually everyone who speaks a tonal language such as Mandarin can remember and recall specific pitches. What few people possess is the specific trained ability to link that tone to a named note.

"Our studies tie right in with the idea that we all have this latent absolute pitch ability, but we can't get fully bloomed absolute pitch without early childhood training," says Shepherd College's Laura Bischoff.

"The real puzzle about perfect pitch is not why so few people possess it but rather why most people do not," UC San Diego's Diana Deutsch says. "Everyone has an implicit form of perfect pitch, even though we aren't all able to put a label to notes..They can recognize the note but can't label it. What's learned as a child is the ability to label."

Also, contrary to public assumption, AP is not an all-or-nothing skill. Many have AP in varying degrees, explain Bischoff and University of Rochester's Elizabeth West Marvin.

Is AP a critical ingredient in musical talent?
No. While AP can sometimes be a useful tool for musicians, it is far from essential in helping musicians build the necessary skills or in expressing themselves magnificently. AP is more common among professional musicians than non-musicians, but research shows very clearly that this is not cause-and-effect. Rather, the correlation exists because both are so frequently a product of early (prior to age 6) musical training. 
    Neither Wagner nor Stravinsky had AP, to name just two. McGill University's Daniel Levitin (author of This Is Your Brain on Music ) does not think AP helps musicians much. What musicians thrive on and must develop to a fine degree, he points out, is relative pitch -- the ability to distinguish between tones. Such relative pitch is available to almost everyone, to be developed to whatever individual degree desired.

"The average person is able to carry a tune almost as proficiently as professional singers. This result is consistent with the idea that singing is a basic skill that develops in the majority of individuals, enabling them to engage in musical activities. In short, singing appears to be as natural as speaking." (Dalla Bella et al, 2007.)

What about "tone deaf" people who can't carry a tune?
So-called "tone deafness" is a little-studied and much misunderstood subject now getting closer attention. Four percent of the general population has tone-deafness (Kalmus and Fry, 1980), which until recently was thought to be mainly a perceptual deficit -- affected individuals supposedly could not hear the difference in tones; they did not have and could not develop relative pitch, and therefore could not appreciate or produce music.
    New evidence has forced an entirely new conclusion. Studies now show that virtually everyone can distinguish tonal differences and appreciate music (Dalla Bella et al, 2007). And while a tiny percentage of people truly cannot hear tonal differences due to some specific brain damage, "present findings suggest that tone-deafness may emerge as a pure output disorder....that poor singing may occur in the presence of normal perception. This possibility finds support in a recent study conducted with poor singers who exhibited pitch production deficits but normal pitch discrimination (Bradshaw & McHenry, 2005)."   
    In other words, the vast majority of people who call themselves tone deaf (or who are mocked as such by friends and spouses) actually hear and perceive music perfectly well, and simply have a problem generating with their vocal chords the tones they hear in their brain.

(Thanks to Jim Berman for asking some great questions and turning me on to some extraordinary music.)

Savants and us (An FAQ)

The prodigious savant Daniel Tammet was just profiled on 60 Minutes, sparking a provocative email from my brainy and combative step-uncle Stan; he wants to know how savant syndrome fits into, or conflicts with, my developing understanding of talent.

Tammet is as rare as it gets: there are only 50 or so prodigious (truly exceptional) savants out there. But there are thousands more savants who are highly-impressive in one way or another, and as a group they can offer us enormous insight into the workings of the brain and the nature of intelligence.

The lessons are surprising. At first blush, one might assume that savants are proof that biology trumps effort: everyone's brain has a slightly different circuitry and will perform accordingly; savants are at one extreme end of the spectrum, with very strange wiring that confers amazing ability.

The truth is a lot more interesting. Here's a Savant FAQ, informed by the work of Darold Treffert, one of the world's leading savant authorities.

What is savant syndrome?
Savant syndrome is the presence of unusual intellectual and/or artistic abilities in otherwise impaired individuals. It is seen in an estimated 1 in 10 persons with autism, AND in roughly 1 in 1000 persons with other mental impairments, including developmental disability, mental retardation, and other central nervous system injuries or diseases. Savantism occurs in many more males than females -- a 6:1 ratio.

Is it always present from birth?
No, and that turns out to have very important implications. Says Treffert: "Savant syndrome can be congenital, or it can be acquired following brain injury or disease later in infancy, childhood, or adult life. Recent reports of savant-type abilities emerging in previously healthy elderly persons with fronto-temporal dementia are particularly intriguing."

What are the specific abilities displayed by savants?
As a rule, they are right-hemisphere skills: music, art, math, spatial dexterity and calendar calculation -- what Treffert calls an "intriguingly narrow range of special abilities" made possible by a spectacular deployment of mechanical, or concrete (also called "implicit") memory.

What's the underlying cause?
No current theory can account for all the cases of savant syndrome, but the most prominent theory that plausibly covers most cases is an injury to the left part of the brain (in the womb, infancy, childhood or adulthood) which sparks a dramatic compensation by the right brain.

--- Treffert elaborates: "Some savants, because of prenatal, perinatal or postnatal central nervous system damage, from a variety of genetic, injury or disease processes have substituted right brain capacity in a compensatory manner for left brain dysfunction and limitation. Simultaneously, because of those same injurious factors, these savants have come to rely on more primitive cortico-striatal (procedural or habit) memory rather than higher level cortico-limbic (semantic or declarative) memory. This combination of right brain skills coupled with procedural memory produces the constellation of abilities and traits that is savant syndrome."

But how can a brain injury give someone exceptional abilities?
We know from centuries of medical history, including the emergence of various medical oddities over the years, that certain components in every brain are equipped with incredible technical capabilities -- capabilities normally suppressed by other components so that the brain can do its main job, which is to balance out function and help a person lead a normal life. For example, in my book The Forgetting, I discuss the famous Russian patient S. who literally remembered every detail he came across in his entire life. He could recite verbatim conversations or random number lists decades after the fact. Sounds cool,bBut this was actually a huge liability -- remembering every detail makes it impossible to form intelligent summaries of details, which is the basis of all intelligent thought and communication. The ability to forget -- get rid of sensory detail -- turns out to be just as important in the brain as the ability to form new memories.

Similarly, savants become unhinged from the usual cerebral checks and balances. Treffert explains: "'Weak central coherence' theory (WCC) [is the ability/disability of] focusing on details rather than the whole....Not being distracted by more global patterns, the savant can focus on a single item or skill and perfect it." (He cites Frith & Happe, 1994).

Like a car spinning around and around because its steering wheel is stuck in the right-turn position, savants' severe brain injuries push them to focus all their time and energy away from the wide burden of social function and into one or more very narrow skills.

What are the lessons for normal functioning brains?
1. Savants don't have amazing abilities -- they acquire them.
Savant brain injuries, whether in the womb or much later on, don't instantly bestow people with amazing powers -- rather, they set loose normally restricted brain mechanisms which allow that person to hyper-focus on a certain skill set in a way that normal functioning minds cannot. Through their disability, they are able to develop amazing skill. As Daniel Coyle recently wrote in the NYT: "Savants' true expertise, the research suggests, is in their ability to practice obsessively, even when it doesn't look as if they're practicing."

2. We can acquire them too.
Although it's a far more cumbersome process, anyone with a normal functional brain can also develop advanced -- and even extraordinary -- skills. Ericsson, Dweck et al have shown some paths to get there, and Treffert argues that we may be able to develop further training methods based on what we're learning from savant brains. "Does some Rain Man ability — savant-like skill and capacity — exist in each of us?" posits Treffert. "Probably so. [The] more primitive memory circuitry, and right brain capacity, both still exist in each of us. However because of their inherent, utilitarian usefulness we have generally come to rely more heavily on left (dominant) hemisphere functions such as language, logical & sequential thinking, for example, than on right (non-dominant) hemisphere skills. Likewise in our day to day functioning we have come to generally use and depend upon semantic or declarative memory much more than using our more primitive, and less facile, procedural or habit memory capabilities. The question becomes then, is it possible to tap and use those still existent, but less frequently used, capacities and circuits, with some of their savant-like characteristics, in those of us more wedded to left brain capacity and higher level memory? ... ...I am convinced there is."