On the different types of intelligence and how AI measures up
Artificial Intelligence is popping up everywhere these days, like mushrooms after rain. Yet there’s an honesty in its name that people tend to overlook: it’s artificial, not genuinely intelligent. It’s exceptionally good at mimicking intelligence, but when you chat with an AI, it’s important to remember that it doesn’t actually understand anything at all and is merely playing along. Now, there are various types of human intelligence and AI is better at playing along with some than it is with others. Let’s roll up our sleeves and take a closer look.
First up, we have general intelligence, or the g-factor. Think of this as the Swiss army knife of the mind—the ability to tackle any problem with ease and efficiency. It’s what IQ tests aim to measure, and why some people can juggle complex maths problems while simultaneously reciting the lyrics of a Beatles song. AI, on the other hand, is more like that one friend who everything about a single topic— absolutely brilliant there but hopelessly lost everywhere else. AI can be a master in one field (chess, anyone?), but it will struggle to apply that knowledge broadly. It’s the one-trick pony of the intelligence rodeo.
Moving on to fluid intelligence—this is your brain on jazz: improvisation, abstract thinking, solving new problems without a script. Imagine figuring out a way to open a bottle of wine when you don’t have a corkscrew. AI can recognise patterns and solve puzzles like nobody’s business (it’s like a savant at Sudoku), but give it a real-world twist and it’s like a deer in headlights. So remember, AI will spot trends in big data like a hawk, but ask it to invent a novel solution to a never-before-seen problem, and it’s suddenly very much out of its depth.
Next, we have crystallised intelligence—this is your brain’s library, full of facts, vocabulary and everything else you’ve learned over the years. The older you get, the more books you have on your shelves. Here, AI is a real contender. With access to vast amounts of data, AI can recall information faster than you can say, “How many AIs does it take to change a lightbulb?” It’s like having an encyclopaedic friend on speed dial—impressive, certainly, but it’s all rather superficial knowledge. The machine knows the facts, but it doesn’t understand the story behind them.
Then there’s emotional intelligence—the social lubricant that helps us navigate the messy business of the human condition. It’s about understanding feelings, yours and others, and using that understanding to manage relationships and deal with such characteristics and events of life as diverse as birth, learning, aspiration, reason, morality, conflict and death. And here’s the kicker: AI’s emotional intelligence is like a cardboard cutout at a party—it’s present, but it’s not bringing any real depth to the conversation. AI can simulate empathy (ever had a chatbot “sympathise” with you?), but it doesn’t feel emotions. It’s like watching a robot try to dance—entertaining, sure, but it don’t mean a thing if it ain’t got that swing.
Furthermore, consider the game of charades—a classic test of social and emotional insight, where players have to guess a word or phrase from a teammate’s non-verbal gestures. AI, with its current capabilities, would be utterly lost in this game, lacking the ability to interpret the subtle body language and group dynamics that humans comprehend almost instinctively.
You see the trend? There’s a significant gap in AI’s ability to mimic the full spectrum of human intelligence.
Carrying on, then, Social intelligence is next up, which is all about the ability to read the room, understand social cues and influence others. AI is still like a novice actor on opening night in this department. While it can be programmed to recognise social cues, the real-time improvisation and subtlety that come with human interaction and experience are still out of reach. AI may know what to say, but it doesn’t know why it’s saying it. And that makes all the difference.
Now, let’s talk about practical intelligence, or what kids these days call ‘street smarts’. This is the kind of intelligence that helps you though everyday life—fixing a leaky sink or figuring out the fastest way to get across town during rush hour. AI is great at solving problems with a clear set of instructions (it’s like the ultimate cheat-sheet), but when it comes to real-world adaptability? Not so much. AI needs data to operate, and life’s little surprises invariably don’t come with a troubleshooting manual.
Which brings us quite naturally to creative intelligence. This is the ability to dream up new ideas, think outside the box and go beyond the conventional. Now, AI can be creative in a remix kind of way—it can generate music, art and poetry, for instance, by reassembling existing patterns. It’s like a master chef with a cookbook; it’s not inventing new recipes. Humans, on the other hand, are generally capable of bringing a spark of inspiration and originality to the table. The real magic of creativity comes from human experience—the joys, heartbreaks and oddities of life. AI doesn’t live; it computes zeros and ones.
Spatial intelligence is all about the ability to visualise and manipulate objects in your mind—think architects, engineers and artists. AI has some serious skills here. It can analyse satellite images, predict the weather, or play a mean game of 3D chess. But it’s more a brilliant map reader than an intrepid explorer. Humans, with their intuition and sense of adventure, can navigate the world’s complexities in ways that AI just isn’t programmed for.
Musical Intelligence involves recognising pitch, rhythm and tone—skills essential for musicians, obviously. AI can compose symphonies and predict hit singles, but it’s all based on algorithms. It can play the right notes, but it lacks the passion that makes music touch our souls. AI-generated music might make for good background noise, but it’s not going to move you to tears.
Four more to go.
Bodily-kinaesthetic intelligence is the intelligence of athletes, dancers and surgeons—the ability to use one’s body with precision and grace. Robotics is certainly getting better at this, but let’s face it: AI won’t win any Olympic medals anytime soon. Humans bring finesse, timing and a sense of touch that robots can’t replicate. Imagine a robot in a tutu trying to perform ballet—it’s all mechanics, no grace.
The ability to use words effectively, to communicate and to express complex ideas is what we call linguistic intelligence. AI is getting pretty good at generating coherent text (ahem…), but it still lacks the deeper understanding of language’s subtleties. It can string a sentence together – it can string a whole string of sentences together – but it doesn’t appreciate the nuances, the irony, the wit that make language so richly human. It’s like a parrot repeating what it hears without understanding what it’s saying.
To deal with the really big questions – life, the universe and everything – humans have been endowed with a smattering of existential intelligence. To be fair on AI, humans barely scratch the surface, but AI hasn’t a clue that it may have a maker, a beginning or an end, let alone a purpose. It can convincingly simulate philosophical debates, even generate arguments, but it’s not staying up late pondering the meaning of life. It’s one thing to recite Shakespeare; it’s another thing altogether to feel the weight of ‘To be, or not to be’. This type of intelligence is uniquely human, fuelled by our experiences and reflections, and AI has none of it.
Finally, and by extension equally lacking in AI, we exhibit naturalist intelligence, the ability to connect with nature, to understand and categorise the natural world. And although it has to be said that AI can analyse environmental data, track species and even predict ecological changes, the connection humans feel with natural world goes way beyond data—it’s about experience, awe and a sense of belonging. AI can tell you about the rainforest and describe its noise and smell and myriad shades of green, but it cannot feel the reverence and wonderment of standing beneath its canopy.
So, thankfully, humanity still has the edge
Artificial intelligence is a marvel. It is a tool that can process information, recognise patterns and simulate human behaviour with astonishing accuracy. But it is just that: a tool. It doesn’t understand, it doesn’t feel, it doesn’t create in the way humans do. And that’s our raison d’être: Big Black Dot can exploit AI to the max precisely because we are fully aware of its limitations and shortcomings. We bring to a text like this one, written for about 90% by GPT 4, the irreplaceable creativity and insight of the human mind, ensuring that it makes sense at all levels. In the end, the real magic of this unfolding technology happens when it meets humanity, and then it truly shines.