To label me an intellectual is a misunderstanding of what that

In an age when words are carelessly bestowed and titles are worn like masks, the keen mind and gentle wit of Dick Cavett offered a quiet rebuke to the vanity of labels. He once said, with characteristic humility and precision: “To label me an intellectual is a misunderstanding of what that is.” To the unthinking, this may sound like modesty — a performer downplaying his reputation. But to the wise, it is a profound meditation on the nature of wisdom itself, and on the dangerous human hunger to define and confine what it cannot fully comprehend. Cavett, who spent his life in conversation with the brilliant and the famous, knew that the essence of intellect is not in its recognition, but in its restlessness. To call one an “intellectual,” he implies, is to misunderstand the true spirit of inquiry — for the true thinker does not seek to be called wise, but to remain forever curious.

The origin of this quote lies in Cavett’s long career as one of America’s most discerning talk show hosts, a man who gave a stage to minds both luminous and unruly — from Gore Vidal to Muhammad Ali, from John Lennon to Katherine Hepburn. His show was a forum not for gossip, but for thought — yet Cavett himself was never pretentious. He was a student of ideas, not their master. When others labeled him an “intellectual,” they meant to praise him, but they also revealed their misunderstanding. For in the eyes of Cavett, an “intellectual” is not one who appears clever or speaks elegantly, but one who thinks deeply and feels humbly. To bear that title lightly is to honor thought; to wear it proudly is to betray it. Thus, his jest becomes a lesson: that wisdom and self-importance are mortal enemies.

The ancients, too, understood this paradox. The philosopher Socrates, who walked barefoot through the streets of Athens, was hailed as the wisest of men. Yet he himself declared, “I know that I know nothing.” The true philosopher, like Cavett’s “non-intellectual,” recognizes the boundaries of his knowledge — and within that humility finds his strength. Socrates sought not the praise of intellect, but the pursuit of truth. In every question, he dismantled certainty; in every answer, he sowed doubt. He knew that to be labeled wise is to risk becoming complacent, for the mind praised for its power often forgets its purpose. Cavett’s words, like those of Socrates, remind us that the pursuit of wisdom is eternal, but the title of “intellectual” is fleeting — and often false.

In modern times, we might recall Albert Einstein, who, despite his towering genius, spoke often of wonder rather than mastery. “The important thing is not to stop questioning,” he said. Einstein refused to see himself as an oracle, even as the world bowed to his intellect. Like Cavett, he understood that curiosity, not acclaim, defines the life of the mind. The moment one accepts the label “intellectual,” one begins to live for the gaze of others rather than for the truth itself. For the genuine seeker of knowledge is not concerned with being seen as wise — only with seeing more clearly. Intelligence seeks answers, but wisdom seeks understanding.

Yet Cavett’s insight extends beyond the individual and into the society that surrounds him. Ours is a world quick to classify, eager to sort souls into boxes: “artist,” “genius,” “intellectual,” “fool.” Such labels, though convenient, imprison both speaker and subject. They reduce the vastness of a human being to a single word, as though the ocean could be contained in a cup. Cavett’s gentle protest — that to call him an “intellectual” is a misunderstanding — is a defense of complexity. He refuses to be a monument; he insists on remaining alive, changing, learning. For to live truthfully is to resist the comfort of definition, to remain ever unfinished — as every thinking mind must be.

There is also humility in his laughter. Cavett, like all great humorists, knew that the mind can become proud, and that pride is the enemy of clarity. The humor in his remark is the wisdom of restraint: a reminder that wit without humility is arrogance, and intellect without warmth is isolation. By mocking the label, he humanizes it. He reminds us that the brightest minds are not those who live above others, but those who listen, learn, and speak as equals. True intellect is not a crown to be worn, but a torch to be shared.

Therefore, O listener, take this teaching into your own heart: do not hunger for titles, for they are but shadows. Seek instead the light that casts them — the light of curiosity, honesty, and humility. Be wary of those who call themselves “intellectuals,” for those who truly are will never need to say it. And if others should praise you with that word, smile as Cavett did, and answer with humility: “It is a misunderstanding of what that is.” For wisdom, like the horizon, recedes as we approach it; and the truest thinkers are those who forever walk toward it, knowing they will never arrive.

So let this be your lesson and your comfort: that to be wise is not to be known, but to keep knowing. Question earnestly. Listen deeply. Laugh often. And remember that humility, not intellect, is the true measure of greatness. For as Dick Cavett taught through wit and grace, the mind that understands its own limits is already infinite.