What price would you put on genius? $500,000 per genius, if you are the MacArthur Foundation. And how do you know if you are a genius? In a “single phone call” from the MacArthur Foundation telling you that you are a lucky recipient of the 2010 MacArthur Fellowship, popularly known as ‘genius grants’.
Don’t get me wrong. I have nothing against giving the brightest and the best of us ‘no strings attached’ resources to enable us to push back horizons and to push forward society. But there is something awry with these ‘genius grants’ that reflects our own confusion about genius and its relation to society today.
First of all, this year’s 23 recipients—substantial as their contributions to society may be—have a long way to go before sitting comfortably in the genius pantheon alongside the likes of Galileo, Shakespeare, Beethoven or Curie. That’s the point, the MacArthur Foundation may argue: the fellowships are “not a reward for past accomplishment, but rather an investment in a person's originality, insight, and potential.”
But herein lies the problem. Not in taking a punt on what someone may achieve in the future and giving them the time and space to achieve it. The problem is the linking of genius to individual personality. This problem is not the MacArthur Foundation’s (the foundation, it should be noted, disavows the ‘genius grant’ tag), but our own. The MacArthur fellows simply reflect our confusion about individual genius and its relation to society. This is one of the issues to be addressed at next week’s Battle of Ideas debate on the nature of genius.
First off, we have lost sight of what genius is. For the purposes of this argument at least, let me provide a clear definition of genius. Coleridge’s take on things is a good starting point, picking out what is distinctive about genius. Coleridge pinpoints the difference between genius and skill—that is the difference between “the shaping skill of mechanical talent and the creative, productive life-power of inspired genius.”
Genius is not about being very, very good at something but about changing things fundamentally. The difference between talent and genius is thrown into stark relief when we consider those geniuses whose seminal ideas have changed the way we see the world—Newton’s theory of gravity, the use of light and colour in painting following Turner—in comparison with the 2010 MacArthur fellows. The inclusion of David Simon, creator of The Wire, has been widely reported. Excellent though the series is, in what way does it manifest that creative force that changes the way we view our world? Even if at a stretch (and it would be a stretch too far in my book) we were to allow The Wire’s creator to squeeze into the genius category, how about the other fellows? Variously recognised for their work teaching physics, increasing the security of computer systems, preserving indigenous languages or creating typefaces—to me, they don’t measure up. We are not comparing like with like.
We have a screwed up relationship with genius. On the one hand we long for the lone genius who stands apart: the enthusiastic reception of the BBC’s recent rehash of Sherlock Holmes shows how much we still love the maverick genius. The ‘apartness’ of genius can be seen in the MacArthur Foundation’s emphasis on allowing fellows “maximum freedom” and leaving recipients alone. On the other hand, we seem in a preternatural hurry to attach the genius accolade to everyday activities and skills, whether it be kicking a football or teaching a class.
Let’s try and unravel this confusion. While of course genius is individual, at the same time genius is meaningless without society. Genius is about the giants whose shoulders the rest of us clamber upon. We are obsessed with trying to find the key to individual genius – is it genes? is it hardwork? is it luck? But the key to realising genius is not the individual but society and we should worry when society begins to dilute the groundbreaking with the everyday, when we lose sight of what genius is. Genius needs society and society needs genius. E=MC2 scratched in desert sand to be blown away by the wind is without purpose and without meaning.
Dr Shirley Dent is chairing the Battle of Ideas debate “Nature of Genius: standing on the shoulders of giants or genes?” on Thursday 21st October at the Royal College of Music
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