Intelligence is a raw ingredient you are born with and is fairly insignificant on its own. Years ago I belonged to Mensa, a rather silly society for people with an IQ of at least 148, that being the only qualification.
I realised while indexing their magazine, among other things, that there were members who really could not think straight and who had very strange ways of arguing; some of them, frankly, were nut-cases. IQ is like flour in a cake; to make it useful it needs the other ingredients of discernment, maturity, discrimination, commonsense, judgment, and so on.
It soon became obvious that outside Mensa there were many more people with high IQs who were using them properly in conjunction with those other qualities. I left.