Only if you’re using an overly narrow definition of “intelligence.”

We sometimes run into claims like: “Intelligence isn’t all there is to success! Many of the most successful humans are charismatic politicians, CEOs, or pop stars! Nerds are better at some things, but they don’t run the world.”

We do not dispute this claim. Rather, what we mean by “intelligence” (in this book) is not the property that separates nerds from jocks. It’s the property that separates humans from mice.

In a Hollywood screenplay, calling a character “intelligent” typically means that they have book smarts. Maybe they’re a history buff, or a brilliant inventor. Maybe they’re good at chess, or at solving mysteries.

The “smart one” in a movie has their own strengths, balanced by stereotypical Hollywood-nerd weaknesses — perhaps they lack emotional intelligence, or common sense, or streetwise cunning. Maybe they lack manual dexterity, or charisma.

But charisma isn’t a substance produced by your kidneys. Charisma, like book smarts, is a result of processes in the brain. This includes unconscious processes inside brains — the behaviors that make someone charismatic aren’t necessarily under their conscious control. But in the end, charisma and engineering acumen are both part of the neurological inheritance that separates humans from mice, regardless of how the two powers are divvied up between the nerds and the pop stars.

By “artificial intelligence,” we don’t mean “artificial book smarts.” We mean “artificial everything-that-separates-human-brains-from-mouse-brains.” We mean the power that lets humans walk on the moon, and the power that lets an orator move a crowd to tears, and the power that lets a soldier deftly aim a rifle. We mean the whole package.