Our intelligence is based on a few surprisingly simple mechanisms. And one of the most interesting is the ability to abstract similarities and differences.
The human brain knows how to group similar things and, at the same time, selectively isolate the objects worth focusing on. Intelligence lies not only in seeing the detail or only the whole, but in the ability to switch fluidly between the two.
Take counting, for example. Yes, counting: 1, 2, 3. It is estimated that humans began counting about 30,000 years ago (archaeologists have found bones marked with notches along their length). But what is counting? It means abstracting the similarity of multiple things, considering them “identical.”
Yet things are not truly identical. The reasoning lies in deciding which differences are negligible. And intelligence comes into play in setting this threshold depending on context and objective.
At the same time, we also perform the reverse operation. That is, we break apart what seems to be a whole, trying to discover the parts it is composed of. Physics split matter into atoms and particles, chemistry into elements, and biology into cells and molecules. Seen this way, a large part of science is the story of a systematic decomposition.
Our analytical thinking manages to see cause separate from effect. And that allows us to explain the world around us instead of perceiving it as an indecipherable whole.
But there’s also that saying: “you can’t see the forest for the trees.” Sometimes I feel that, although we have made astonishing progress in breaking the world around us into its components, we do not understand nearly as well how what surrounds us comes together into a whole.
Here’s the dilemma. I saw this on a hike: a new fir tree, grown from an old stump. And I’m not sure: is it one, or are they two?