When Intelligence Fails

What the World’s Biggest Problems Are Really Asking of Us

Faced with existential challenges, from the authoritarian regime that has taken over the White House to planetary problems of unprecedented scale, a natural question arises: How do we solve them?

When Stephen Hawking, Al Gore, and Bono— voices of authority from science, politics, and culture—separately asked the public to offer solutions to humanity’s greatest challenges, tens of thousands of thoughtful responses poured in.[1] Yet nearly every thoughtful proposal contradicted another. Intelligent people, acting in good faith, arrived at opposing conclusions.

This outcome should not surprise us. The world is awash in opinion. The literary sphere, mainstream media, and social platforms are abuzz with analysis, advice, prescriptions, and competing diagnoses. Everyone seems to have a theory of what is wrong with the world and how to fix it.

These perspectives arise from a wide range of worldviews and therefore span the ideological spectrum. Some argue for voluntary simplicity, others for more efficient consumption. Some call for assertive government intervention through taxation and regulation. Others insist that markets function best when left alone. Some dismiss climate change as exaggerated. Others warn that we are nearing ecological collapse. And this variety of opinion is no less true among the academic experts and seasoned professionals.

So, amid this haze of contradiction how do we discern which paths are wisest? Which solutions deserve our trust?

The confusion arises, in part, because we often conflate knowledge with wisdom. Though commonly used interchangeably, they belong to different categories altogether. And because dictionary definitions of knowledge and wisdom are typically cursory and imprecise, reducing rich concepts to thin outlines, I will linger a moment on their differences.

Knowledge refers to familiarity with facts and techniques – what we know and how to do things. Wisdom incorporates knowledge but goes further, integrating experience, ethical understanding, and foresight. Knowledge is a rational cognitive process. Wisdom as a process is translogical, beyond logic, intuitive without being irrational.[2]

As Stephen Hall writes in Wisdom: From Philosophy to Neuroscience, intelligence focuses on accomplishing life-supporting tasks, while wisdom compels us to consider the consequences of our actions – on ourselves, on others, and on the broader community of life. That is, wisdom concerns judgment, asking not only can we, but should we?

Modern civilization excels at the former and fails at the latter. Collectively, we possess an extraordinary repository of knowledge. We know how to genetically engineer plants, grow high-yield cereals (with and without industrial fertilizers and pesticides), control human reproduction and immigration, extract fossil fuels through fracking, cool the planet (with aerosols or with carbon-free energy sources), regulate markets, and tax and subsidize industries. The problem is not ignorance of technique.

What we lack is the wisdom to choose among these possibilities, to decide which paths are most sustainable, equitable, and humane. More than ever, we are challenged to grow into our own species name, Homo sapiens—the “wise human.”

The cultural historian and “geologian” Thomas Berry offers points us in a promising direction. He maintains that our predicament stems from a deep illusion: the belief that we know what is best for the Earth and for ourselves. So long as we cling to that assumption, he warns, we will continue our destructive course with devastating consequences for “the entire Earth community.”[3] The first step toward wisdom, then, is not mastery but humility – the willingness to relinquish the belief that we already know.

This theme echoes through the teachings of the twentieth-century philosopher Jiddu Krishnamurti. Central to his thought is the idea of “choiceless awareness,” the recognition that wisdom cannot arise until one fully admits, without reservation, I do not know.[4] Only in this humble space of not-knowing, of a silent mind, can genuine insight emerge.[5] Until then, our minds are constrained by belief, ideology, and identity.

This practice is simple but not easy. It requires the courage to confront our ignorance and the possibility that deeply held convictions may be incomplete, if not entirely wrong. Worse still, it may require acknowledging that those we oppose most strongly may be right about something essential. We may have to listen seriously to people we have dismissed, such as the religious believer or the atheist, the liberal or the conservative, the technologist or the ecologist.

Wisdom may demand that we relinquish some of our intellectual “darlings” – our certainties, comforts, and privileges. That surrender may be painful, initially. But it also offers liberation, freeing us from the consequences of clinging to false assumptions.

A further obstacle remains. Even if we accept the necessity of humility, how do we actually empty the mind of bias? How do we step outside our political, cultural, and philosophical conditioning and the mental loops that replay endlessly in our heads?

Here, perhaps surprisingly, we already possess a powerful tool. It is one that has guided scientists, artists, and mystics alike for centuries. It is often called the scientific method. Simple and elegant, it goes something like this: First, pay attention. Scientists call this observation. Our challenge is to observe without prejudice. To heed with humility, curiosity, and – as best we can – choiceless awareness.

We all possess this cognitive superpower. We have the capacity to attend to reality with honesty and openness, a practice that draws us toward clarity and the elusive ideal of truth.

Second, to understand the problems and to consider the solutions, we don’t need to reinvent the wheel. We can follow the protocols established by those who have devoted their lives to disciplined inquiry. A chemist may invite us to place dry ice into a beaker of water, ammonia, and indicator solution and watch the results. A meditation teacher may invite us to sit quietly and observe the breath, moment by moment. In each case, the instruction is precise, the method replicable.

Then, one observes the results. I saw the liquid bubble, fog, and change color. Or, I felt a sense of peace, focus, and kindness. Whatever.

Third, we compare notes. We share results, discuss discrepancies, refine methods, and learn from one another. One person experiences calm, another agitation. One needs just a few minutes to feel peace, another an hour. Through communication and collective reflection, understanding deepens.

This process (observe carefully, follow well-tested methods, communicate results) has driven humanity’s greatest paradigm shifts, from Newtonian mechanics to relativity and quantum theory, and from early contemplative practices to the diverse spiritual traditions that followed. It is not merely a method for generating facts. It is a discipline for cultivating wisdom.

If we are to overcome the challenges before us – the personal, societal and planetary – knowledge alone will not suffice. We must learn how to not know, how to listen deeply, observe honestly, and choose wisely. Our survival may depend less on new technologies than on a new humility. We will need the courage to say, at last, we do not yet know what is best, and therefore we are ready to learn.

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[1] NYT Editorial Board (2006).

[2] Borrowed from Wilber (1998).

[3] Berry (1988:35).

[4] Krishnamurti (1973).

[5] Krishnamurti (1973:306-308, 338).