The Cognitive Peacock: When Confidence Outruns Thought

I'm going to attempt to explain something quite confusing. In fact, I'm almost expecting to fail. But that doesn’t mean my failure has to be boring.

For a while now, I’ve been able to recognize a particular type of human among humanity’s ranks. I’m not sure what the proper label for this humanoid is, but for the sake of efficiency, let’s call them cognitive peacocks. Yes—that feels adequate.

Picture this:

You're among a group of friends, and along comes this person—a potential new member of the group. He or she, for that matter, attempts to forcibly interject “ideas” or opinions into the conversation.

Maybe due to a certain level of charisma, or maybe just because people want to be polite, this person is given center stage for a few minutes. The cognitive peacock is allowed to speak their piece, lay their brilliance on the table.

Everyone in the gathering, now watching and listening, adds a certain level of pressure. The peacock senses it. It's their moment. Time to shine. Time to secure a position in the social hierarchy.

With all eyes and ears on them, the peacock begins to squall:

“Yeah, because nobody ever thinks these things like I do. You say something, right? And people are like, ‘What is this guy talking about?’ But that’s only because they don’t vibe with you. They don’t understand high-level shit, like we can...”

“People say bank, people say money... they say flow. But they don’t understand flow. What’s flow? Flow is energy. Flow is something you feel more than anything. Bank is energy trapped. It’s not allowed to flow, like a river, because the river is life. Flow means life. Without flow, you have nothing.”

Confused stares usually follow these bizarre rants, but basic social decorum wins in the end, and the gathering continues as if nothing ever happened.

Now listen—I'm not saying we’re failing by not telling the peacocks to shut up. They’ve probably always existed. Throughout history, civilized people likely just learned to ignore their squalls. But I do wonder: do the peacocks ever think about it?

Is this whole phenomenon a symptom of a lack of internal dialogue?

In fact—before you answer that, let me tell you something strange. It turns out a considerable percentage of people don’t have internal dialogue. Some estimates put this number at 20%. A wild statistic, if you ask me. I can’t stop arguing with myself. I don’t even know what it would feel like for my brain to go quiet. But I digress.

Here’s the point—or rather, the questions, because I don’t have answers. I know about the Dunning-Kruger effect. I’m not ruling that out. But I think there’s something more going on—something we haven’t quite put our finger on.

I know intelligence isn’t bound to a single domain. Someone can be emotionally brilliant and still struggle with basic math. But even within emotional intelligence, I suspect there are subcategories we haven’t yet dissected.

Maybe not having internal dialogue gives you an advantage of sorts. Maybe you can be socially daring, relentlessly out there making friends, seeking connection. So... is that dumb? Or just a working strategy?

Who’s the dumb one there?

Anyway, I’m rambling now—and I’m sure most people get my point. But I’ll say this: these peacocks I’ve been describing can be found at every socio-economic level. Some even hold important government positions. That last bit should be obvious enough not to require argument.

I’ll close now with a small attempt at peacockry:

“You see, saying bye is not really saying bye. Because bye sounds like what? Like bi… and bi means what? Two options. Binary. Two possibilities. So maybe... I’m not saying bye. I’m saying hi. I’m acknowledging you, like you acknowledge me. And that’s power, right there.”

MenO