© Howard Gardner 2026
Widely and mostly positively reviewed, Helen Lewis’s book The Genius Myth seeks to debunk the notion of genius—at least the view of genius as a person who possesses special—perhaps indeed unique—powers, abilities, capacities, insights, achievements, legacies.
Lewis has made a persuasive claim that the label of “genius” has been bandied about too much; it needs to be analyzed, deconstructed, perhaps put into the dugout, at least for a while. She critiques often-cited examples of geniuses (Thomas Edison and Elon Musk, in particular). Lewis shares her observation that writers and observers of so-called geniuses are prone to highlight the positive while minimizing the often flagrant (e.g. anti-social) flaws of these honorees. In the sizeable literature on extraordinary promise and achievements, there is a bias toward males who died young, individuals who suffered from deadly illnesses, persons who claimed to have sudden insights, discoveries, messages from “on high.” (Compared to male writers such as Lord Byron or John Keats, female writers such as Jane Austen, Emily Dickinson, George Eliot—the pseudonym of Mary Ann Evans—have rarely been cited.)
Lewis also calls attention to the role of self-promotion: In her judgment, Timothy Berners-Lee, the inventor of the World Wide Web, is as important a figure as Elon Musk—but because Berners-Lee does not call attention to himself, he rarely gets touted as a genius. Perhaps most convincingly (at least for me), Lewis identifies the sins of omission and commission in several of the best-known researchers on genius—all men, most often psychologists—typically proceeding in ways that do not withstand scrutiny and may even violate basic principles of inquiry and reporting.
On Lewis’s account, there is not and should not be a special category of genius—an individual (or, rarely, a group) with unique characteristics and world-shaking achievements. As her opening (and compelling) case, she dwells on Giorgio Vasari’s Lives of the Artists—a collection of biographies of painters and sculptors who worked chiefly in Italy at the height of the Renaissance. On her account, Vasari’s authorial need to tell a convincing story triumphed over accuracy and prudence—and Vasari launched a trend in the potted biographies of artists which eventually spilled over to other sectors, ranging from science to politics. Indeed, examples of “genius celebration” extend to our time, where the achievements (and, at times, the flaws) of geniuses are celebrated in biopics—e.g., individuals like physicist Robert Oppenheimer, mathematician John Nash, musician Leonard Bernstein, painter Vincent van Gogh—the roster of biopics grows steadily.
As someone who himself has thought a lot about outstanding achievement, and has occasionally invoked the word “genius,” I approached Lewis’s book with some apprehension. Over thirty years ago, I published a book called Creating Minds: An anatomy of creativity seen through the lives of Freud, Einstein, Picasso, Stravinsky, Eliot, Graham, and Gandhi. In that work, I described and illuminated the achievements of individuals who—respectively—epitomized each of the “multiple intelligences” that I had recently proposed. If the word “genius” appears in the text, it must have been only in passing—it did not make the subject index! Yet, I clearly felt that all of the individuals—born in the latter part of the 19th century and productive during the earlier years of the 20th century—were special, worthy of study, capable of being better understood. And if I or someone else had used the word “genius” to refer to any member of the septet, that would not have caught my attention or bothered me.
Fortunately, however, owing to my long term, rewarding collegiality with psychologist Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi, I do have a way of thinking about great achievements—indeed, of genius. On the analysis which Mihaly first introduced—when collaborating with David Henry Feldman and me—Mihaly spoke of creativity as involving three factors:
an individual (the aspiring person or, occasionally, group);
a domain (the area in which the individual is working—e.g., art, science, politics, business);
a field (a group of knowledgeable individuals—could be as small as a few fellow scientists, or as large as the viewing public—who determine that a creation is worth considering, studying, valuing, preserving).
The individual alone does not suffice (X may or may not be creative, despite what the individual may think of himself or herself); nor does it suffice for the individual simply to work in a particular domain (e.g., art, scholarship, politics, etc.). Only when knowledgeable individuals—members of a relevant discipline or field—conclude that an artifact (in the broadest sense of that term) is worth valorizing can we dub it as creative. And by extension, we can and should apply the descriptor “creative” only to individuals whose words or works have come to be valued by knowledgeable others.
As I’ve occasionally quipped: You may die before the field decides that you are creative. But you will never know for sure that you are not creative…because that decision can be made years, even decades later. As examples, Bach’s music was not widely appreciated until Felix Mendelssohn brought it to public attention well over a century later. The same post-mortem descriptor applies to the paintings of Vincent van Gogh or, in our time, the drawings and paintings of Hilma af Klint. To risk invoking the wrath of Helen Lewis, we could say that their genius was only recognized post-mortem.
Finally, a few of my own thoughts about the term “genius.”
To begin with, in English we are probably stuck with it—at least until a synonym arises.
While Helen Lewis puts forth her own views forcefully, she does not do justice to earlier scholarly work on the concept of genius—dating back to classical times and having undergone various mutations. For a fine historical examination, I recommend Divine Fury: A History of Genius by historian Darrin McMahon.
When I’ve used the term “genius,” I have sought to extend it to those rare individuals who perceive something about the world, about life, about time—and who thereby affect the ways thereafter in which their successors (individuals, generations) conceive of the world.
Often, I think of Sigmund Freud, whose work I studied when I was young. Freud himself was credited with many discoveries—not all of them valuable, not all of them valid—but writing on the significance of dreams, Freud reflected: such insights occur “but once in a lifetime.” Moreover, Freud’s own teacher, Josef Breuer, commented that when he watched young Sigmund Freud over time, Freud reminded him of a bird who soared ever higher into the sky.
To be sure, Helen Lewis might use these observations as an example of the “myth of genius.” But if anyone in my own field deserves that accolade, Freud does. And I have had the same sensation about a young colleague in my field—whenever I am with her, I sense her own bird soaring ever higher in the sky…and I stand in awe. But of course, unless the “field” recognizes her achievement—sooner or later—I could simply be making a misjudgment.
Recently, I had the privilege of posting the question of genius to Gerald Holton—a world renowned scientist, scholar, and historian of physics. Born in 1922, Gerry has been around for a long time—he has known dozens of Nobel Prize winners, he was a major biographer of Albert Einstein, and he has an amazingly broad conspectus.
When I asked Gerry who—among the individuals he knew personally—was a genius, he thought for a few moments and said, “Enrico Fermi.” To paraphrase Gerry: “When there was a problem that some of us were puzzling over and could not make headway, we would bring it to Fermi. He would ask to have a quiet space for an hour or so, ponder it in various ways, and—more often than not—come up with a solution that eluded the rest of us and stood the test of time.”
One may choose not to call that genius—but if so, one will simply have to come up with a new and acceptable descriptor—for example, “extraordinary minds,” (Gardner 1997).
My conversation with the author, Helen Lewis
After posting this blog, I shared my thoughts with the author of “The Genius Myth,” Helen Lewis. Below, please find our brief email conversation, in which she thoughtfully shared her comments.
HOWARD:
Dear Helen (if I may),
I hope this message finds you well.
I read your book The Genius Myth with considerable interest and found myself inspired to write a blog detailing my thoughts and reactions. In case you would like to read it, I'm sending along the link here. As you may know, I've written a great deal about creativity and “extraordinary minds,” though I don't that I've often used the word “genius.”
With best wishes,
Howard
HELEN:
Dear Howard,
Thank you for such a thoughtful reflection on the book. I’m sorry you didn’t find that I had done the earlier literature justice — I very much enjoyed Darrin McMahon’s book, but I think I got bogged down in some of the more anecdotal historiographies (such as the work of Dean Keith Simonton) and bailed out. Any recommendations for work that you’ve found valuable very gratefully received!
I particular liked what you said about rediscovery and renewal of great creative minds. It’s one of the pleasures of journalism (and I suspect academia) to inflict your enthusiasms on fresh audiences.
Best wishes,
Helen
HOWARD:
Thanks for your timely note, much appreciated.
As you could tell, your ambitious and challenging book stimulated several trains of thought.
In my own work on this topic, I have relied heavily on authoritative biographies and also on studies of gifted children, such as those undertaken by David Henry Feldman and by Ellen Winner, my wife. The relation between early outstanding performance, on the one hand, and ultimate pathbreaking achievements on the other, are of particular interest to me—as a developmental psychologist...and, now, as a grandfather.
More recently, being well into my ninth decade, I have been revisiting my books about creativity, leadership, and “extraordinary minds.” The question I've asked myself: To what extent were my choices time-bound, even parochial? If I were to undertake studies today, well into the 21st century, what domains/sectors would I look at? Do I know enough about finance, investment, computing, technology, to determine who is worth studying and how would I study them?
Or, to put it in less academic jargon, are there still lessons to be learned from the lives and achievements of Mozart, Leonardo, Shakespeare, Newton in the age of AI...and AGI?
With all good wishes,
Howard
HELEN:
That's a great question. One of the theories that I came away agreeing with was the idea of particularly fertile periods in particular disciplines, and how lucky people are to be born at the right time for them to do their best work. I suspect that machine learning is at that stage currently, but sadly it's far, far outside of my comprehension. I also do feel that this is a bad time to be interested in longform reporting, as I am, because although The Atlantic is happy to invest time and money in my work, it's hard to excel without a friendly ecosystem of peers and readers. (Both of those groups have shrivelled significantly in the smartphone/big tech age.)
You must be pleased with how your own work has prompted such a vigorous debate, I hope? My husband and I use the modern equivalents of MI to describe how different we are: I'm a "wordcel" and he's a "shape rotator."
HOWARD:
Dear Helen,
Thank you for sharing these reflections with me. Yes, "MI theory” often gets a boost when members of the same family or working group discover that they have different and perhaps complementary profiles of intelligences.
I would like to ask if you would grant me permission to reproduce your valuable comments on the posted version of my blog—I believe they'll be of interest to my readers and I may build on these ideas in the future.
Comments from Colleagues
When I posted my blog, “The Genius Problem” several months ago, I hoped it might stimulate further discussion—and I’m delighted to say it did! Below, I’m sharing a fascinating exchange between David Henry Feldman, Dean Keith Simonton, Ellen Winner, and Bill Damon, whose perspectives bring decades of scholarship and reflection on creativity, achievement, and what we really mean when we use the term “genius.”
DAVID HENRY FELDMAN:
Dear Howard et al,
Thanks for sending your review of THE GENIUS MYTH and other comments. I want to add my two cents to the discussion as someone who, like you, Dean and others here, have thought a great deal about genius.
In the collaborative work that you, Mike Csiksentmihalyi and I did on creativity (and that you kindly cited in your blog,) we divided up the territory informally following Mike's proposal to consider creativity as a dynamic system among three (and possibly more) nodes: individual, domain, and field. You focused primarily on individual processes, I looked at domains, and Mike worked on describing field qualities. Not surprisingly my way of looking at genius tends to be domain based.
I think of genius as the occasion when an existing domain is utterly transformed in profound and irreversible ways. Alternatively, another form of genius occurs when a domain is brought into existence, proves to be of immense importance, and endures as a valuable part of a culture. Einstein's theory of relativity is an exemplar of the former, while Freud's creation of psychoanalysis is an example of the latter.
Note that this frame for genius does not assume that one individual is responsible for the transformation, nor does it specify a specific process in achieving it, nor does it detail a set of cultural or historical conditions necessary for it to happen.
I haven't read THE GENIUS MYTH so I can't comment on it, but a domain based approach to genius may offer a way to continue to use the term in our efforts to understand extraordinary human achievement in a way that can be further developed and better understood.
DEAN KEITH SIMONTON:
Hi, Howard, David, et al.
I haven't read the book either, but I couldn't let slide the author's misrepresentation of my research. So this is what I posted:
Hi, Helen and Howard ~
I've been studying genius in one form or another for more than a half century: genius in the sciences and the arts, in politics and even war. Moreover, I've studied geniuses from every major civilization, from Western and Islamic to Chinese and Japanese. I've even investigated the phenomenon in underrepresented groups, such as eminent African Americans, famous female psychologists, and even illustrious women in Japanese literature. Contrary to what Helen said, my research is neither anecdotal nor historiographic. Instead, the bulk of my journal publications use historiometric methods, which test nomothetic hypotheses by applying quantitative measurement and analysis to large samples of eminent creators and leaders (Simonton, 1984). When I began my inquiries, I would just use the dictionary definitions of genius. But as I continued, I realized these traditional definitions were inadequate from a scientific perspective. Typically, the received definitions assumed too much. Like genius required a super high IQ score or genius was born rather than made. So I eventually stripped away the superfluous while concomitantly adding stipulations too often overlooked. The resulting definition goes: "A genius is a person who makes original, exemplary, and enduring contributions to domains of achievement that are both intellectually demanding and culturally valued" (Simonton, 2024, p. 247). This definition can be rendered more specific by inserting adjectives in the appropriate places. Thus, a "creative genius" contributes to "domains of creative achievement."
Unfortunately, I lack the space to discuss the justifications and implications of this definition. For a more detailed treatment, see a forthcoming handbook chapter (Simonton, in press). But what I can say here is that this new definition does not allow geniuses to be myths. Every component has a historiometric operational definition.
~ Best, Dean
References
Simonton, D. K. (1984). Genius, creativity, and leadership: Historiometric inquiries. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press.
Simonton, D. K. (2024). Transformational creative genius: Four wise considerations of three definitions. In R. J. Sternberg & S. Karami (Eds.), Transformational creativity: Learning for a better future (pp. 255-266). Switzerland: Springer Nature.
Simonton, D. K. (in press). Creativity, genius, and creative genius. In R. Reiter-Palmon & J. Katz-Buonincontro (Eds.), APA handbook of creativity. Washington DC: American Psychological Association.
DAVID HENRY FELDMAN:
Thanks Dean!
As usual thoughtful and well supported.
My. Only suggestion is to not specify a single person as responsible. For example the French impressionists were a movement. Several individuals contributed to the transformation.
DEAN KEITH SIMONTON:
I agree 100% That's only the definition of individual genius. If we want to discuss "group genius" then we only have to rewrite the beginning of the definition as "Group genius is a group that ..." When I got rid of all components of earlier definitions that were necessarily individual level, like "innate" or "IQ," the switch in levels is easy. My favorite example is Nicolas Bourbaki in mathematics. Or the Federalists in political theory.
ROBERT J. STERNBERG:
I have not said anything because I think "genius" is a label. It is what people want it to be.
Today's genius may be tomorrow's dummy.
Jason Arday
Franz Mesmer
Christopher Columbus perhaps
Elizabeth Holmes
Adam Neumann
William Shockley
Cesare Lombroso
Thomas Midgley Jr.
Antonio Monez
We can say that people misperceived them. But that's how it goes. It's a label. Works until it doesn't.
ELLEN WINNER:
Hi Dean,
I think your definition of genius as domain changing is exactly right. The only disagreement I have is the need to add that "a creative genius contributes to domains of creative achievement." I don't know what you mean by "domains of creative achievement" unless you are referring to the arts. But changing any domain, whether in the arts or anything else (science, math, politics etc.), is creative (in the Big C sense).
I would say a domain changer is a domain changer forever. But society changes in what kinds of change it values and devalues. I think this is perhaps more common in the arts than in science, which is cumulative.
DEAN KEITH SIMONTON:
Hi, Ellen ~
I think that's an important point. The "enduring" stipulation is contingent on the domain. I had somebody ask me if Taylor Swift was a musical genius. I said that besides the fact that it's too early to tell - she's only 36 - she contributes to a domain that tends to have a more transient take on the "test of time." Yet we still have Stephen Foster. I touch upon these and other issues in my forthcoming chapters.
I wanted a definition that could be both generic - applying to all forms of genius - and specific - applying to very specific domains. So I ended up with the following in the case of individual genius:
"A [adjective] genius is a person who makes original, exemplary, and enduring contributions to domains of [adjective] achievement that are both intellectually demanding and culturally valued."
Here the optional adjective may be creative, mathematical, artistic, scientific, musical, political, military, religious, etc. - essentially the same achievement domains listed in Galton (1869). The only omissions are the wrestlers and oarsmen because those aren't intellectually demanding domains. The "culturally valued domains" qualification rules out "evil geniuses" and allows for geniuses to appear in some cultures but not others, like calligraphers in China and Japan. Complicated, but the most elegant and precise definition I could devise. But, then, I may not be a definitional genius!
References
Creativity, genius, and creative genius. In R. Reiter-Palmon & J. Katz-Buonincontro (Eds.), APA handbook of creativity. Washington DC: American Psychological Association.
Which of the 4 C’s doesn’t belong? The paradox of creative genius. In R. Beghetto & J. C. Kaufman (Eds.), Varieties of human creativity: Reflections and debates on the four C’s. New York: Cambridge University Press.
ELLEN WINNER:
Yes, I understand. But I would just substitute the word artistic for creative because don't you agree that all Big C creators are by definition creative?
DEAN KEITH SIMONTON:
All Big-C creators are creative, by definition, but not all of them are artists.
ELLEN WINNER:
Right. Hence, calling their domains art domains is cleaner than calling them creative domains…
DEAN KEITH SIMONTON:
What I have is "An artistic genius is a person who makes original, exemplary, and enduring contributions to a domain of artistic achievement that is both intellectually demanding and culturally valued." How would you reword it? I must be missing something.
ELLEN WINNER:
No, that’s perfect.
I was just responding to a list of domains in one of your emails that included "creative domains" along with other kinds—I was saying they should be called artistic domains since changing any domain, artistic or not, requires creativity...
I think we are on the same page
BILL DAMON:
Dear Friends and Colleagues,
First, many thanks to Howard for initiating this great and informative conversation. I am fascinated by this subject. I haven’t done any work in the area myself (I don’t think of the moral exemplars I’ve studied as geniuses, although I do consider Nelson’s Mandela’s putting his prison guard on stage with him for his inauguration to be an act of genius). My interest in this subject is as a learner and teacher. I’m preparing to teach a course covering the important work that all of you have done. In preparation for the course, I’ve written a draft of a review of what’s been done by you all and others, which I’ll be happy to circulate to those who may be interested. I’m not planning any other writing on this myself, other than a tangential piece on Lewis Terman as a case in moral complexity. But I believe that this subject and the work all of you have done is extremely important at the present time and deserves much attention, which is one reason I’ve decided to teach a course that will cover it.
DAVID HENRY FELDMAN:
Thanks Bill. Please do send a copy of your course prospectus and other writing you have done in preparation for your new course. I disagree that the work you and Ann did on. moral exemplars was not relevant to the topic of exceptional development, although as you say perhaps genius is not the best way to characterize their works. And at the risk of being too pushy I would be happy to come down to Palo Alto for a session if that would fit in with your course plans.
BILL DAMON:
Thanks David – I may take you up on the course help – and glad to say that Stanford, in its infinite generosity, pays almost twice minimum wage for guest appearances in classes!
DEAN KEITH SIMONTON:
I'd be interested in whatever you come up with regarding Terman's moral complexity, especially with respect to his grad student Catharine Cox. I've been interested in their troubled connection for now 50 years! Also later with Ralph K. White.
ELLEN WINNER:
I did not know about the trouble in the Cox Terman connection. I’d definitely like to read your review of work on genius and anything you write on Terman and I’m sure Howard would as well.
BILL DAMON:
Yes, rather amazing that Terman would publish Cox’s study, and basically her book, under his own name in his Genetic Studies of Genius series. In his 1930 autobiography, he strangely mentions Cox as his “chief collaborator” only on a study of sex differences in non-cognitive traits (?). As you no doubt know, after they both had died, Hans Eysenck (also a morally complex guy) tried to give her retroactive credit, writing: “The only proper study of the field has been contributed by Cox, whose classic work has been cited more frequently perhaps than any other book on genius.” I’ll need to find out about academic publishing conventions in the 1920’s, but surely Terman’s behavior was outrageous even then and must have had something to do with Cox being a young woman.
Thanks for the tip about Ralph White, which I didn’t know about and will check out.
Bill
DEAN KEITH SIMONTON:
Hi, Bill ~
Here's my little research note on how Terman did the opposite for a male graduate student, basically dictating a research project while assuming no authorship. Yes, it peeves me no end that Cox's monumental doctoral dissertation got usurped by her mentor. And other misdeeds as well. In the second attachment, I insinuate that he exerted other pernicious effects on her doctoral dissertation. Finally, I've attached a more comprehensive overview of Cox's Volume 2 in Genetic Studies of Genius. Ironically, this was almost not published because it was part of a special issue of the Gifted Child Quarterly devoted to Terman, which caused a revolt among the membership of the National Association for Gifted Children. Fortunately, the publication agreements were already signed, so the accepted contributions were distributed one issue at a time without the extensive editorial introduction of the poor blokes who put the whole issue together. I say "ironic" because issue overall was not particularly favorable to Terman. Perhaps you have already seen some of the other separately published contributions.
One of my fondest memories was when 50 years ago I devoted many hours at Stanford's Terman archives pouring through all the raw data. But I never really found what I was looking for, nor later at the Miles-Cox archives at Akron. Did get one publication from the quest, though, a paper that received Mensa's research award. So not a total waste!
BILL DAMON:
Hi Dean,
Thanks so much for sending out these terrific research notes, which are truly fascinating and informative. What a great run you’ve had in your all-embracing scholarship on greatness!
Thanks again for all the valuable information about Terman, Cox, & Co, which fills in my knowledge enormously.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
For valuable comments on an earlier draft, I thank William Damon, Kirsten McHugh, Annie Stachura, and Ellen Winner.
REFERENCES
Csikszentmihalyi, M. (1996). Creativity: Flow and the psychology of discovery and invention. HarperCollins.
Gardner, H. (1993). Creating minds: An anatomy of creativity seen through the lives of Freud, Einstein, Picasso, Stravinsky, Eliot, Graham, and Gandhi. Basic Books.
Gardner, H. (1997). Extraordinary minds: Portraits of exceptional individuals and an examination of our extraordinariness. Basic Books
Lewis, H. (2025). The genius myth: A curious history of a dangerous idea. Penguin Random House.
