One of the news stories that struck me most in recent days was that of the toxic cloud around Tehran, caused by the bombing of the country’s oil reserves. In that image there is much more than a mere episode of war: there is the portrait of a species which, despite being capable of extraordinary knowledge, continues to turn resources into destruction, energy into contamination, and power into moral blindness. And it is precisely from here that the question arises: can we really define as intelligent a species that, in full awareness, compromises the very conditions of its own survival?
According to academic definitions, “intelligence is the capacity to understand reality, learn from experience, plan effective actions, solve new problems, and adapt one’s behavior rationally to environmental conditions.”
In light of this definition, the human species undoubtedly considers itself an intelligent species and, at least in part, that is true. We have built cities, written poems, sent probes into space, decoded DNA, and invented tools capable of multiplying knowledge and power. But is all this really enough to define us as a truly intelligent species? If by intelligence we mean not only the capacity to create, but also the ability to foresee the consequences of our actions, to cooperate, to limit destructiveness, and to care for the future, then the answer becomes far less reassuring. Looking at both history and the present, one is led to think that the human species is extraordinarily skilled, but not yet truly intelligent.
War is perhaps the clearest proof of this limitation. An intelligent species ought to use reason to contain violence, not to perfect it. And yet humanity has done exactly the opposite: it has transformed conflict into an organized, industrial, and even scientific form of destruction. We have used human genius not only to build hospitals, bridges, particle accelerators, and libraries, but also to produce ever more efficient weapons, to the point of being able to destroy entire cities in a matter of moments. It is therefore difficult to regard as fully intelligent a species that, century after century, continues to invest enormous resources in its own capacity for annihilation.
To this contradiction another, even more serious one must be added: our relationship with the planet. Human beings are the only species that know they are damaging the environment on which their own survival depends and yet, despite this awareness, continue to do so. We pollute seas, air, and soil, alter the climate, and consume resources as if they were inexhaustible. The issue is not only the ecological damage, but the logical failure it represents. A truly intelligent species does not destroy the home in which it lives. Or, if it realizes that it is doing so, it changes course in time. We, instead, seem incapable of giving up immediate advantages even when the future cost is perfectly clear.
This brings us to a decisive point: humanity has no real species-wide project. States, alliances, international institutions, treaties, and conferences exist, but there is no common vision capable of going beyond particular interests. We do not act as a self-aware human community; we act as a sum of rival groups, each focused on its own convenience, its own power, its own present. And yet the decisive challenges of our time — climate, war, inequality, migration, technological risks — are all global. They would require a collective maturity that we have not yet attained.
At the root of everything there is also an ancient and persistent trait: selfishness. Human beings tend to prioritize their own immediate interest, whether personal or group-based, even when such behavior produces greater and longer-lasting harm. This can be seen in economic relations, in social inequality, in indifference to suffering, and in the difficulty of giving up something today in order to guarantee a fairer tomorrow. And yet true intelligence ought to recognize the fundamental reality of interdependence: no one is truly saved alone. When a species fails to fully understand that the good of others is tied to its own, it reveals not only an ethical limitation, but a cognitive one as well.
Finally, there is our chronic inability to think about the future. We live in the short term: politics looks to the next election, the economy to the next profit, individuals to the next gratification. The great issues that require long-term vision are postponed, softened, or sidestepped. And yet foreseeing consequences, planning, and correcting one’s course should lie at the very heart of intelligence. If we see the danger but do not change direction, then our lucidity remains incomplete, almost powerless.
For this reason, perhaps we should abandon the comforting idea that we are an intelligent species. We are a potentially intelligent species, certainly: endowed with immense capacities, extraordinary insights, and unparalleled creativity. But potential is not enough. As long as we continue to wage war, devastate the planet, live without a common direction, give in to selfishness, and ignore the future, it will be difficult to maintain that humanity truly embodies intelligence in its highest sense. Perhaps the real task of our species is not to celebrate its own superiority, but finally to learn how to deserve it.