The case for expanding the definition of intelligence
- Traditional definitions of intelligence emphasize problem-solving ability, but a broader view suggests that intelligence is about how well a system connects, adapts, and thrives in its environment.
- At the recently founded Island of Knowledge think tank, scientists and philosophers explored intelligence beyond the human mind, considering learning in bacteria, plants, and even ecosystems.
- Their conclusion: Intelligence is relational, distributed, and deeply embedded in context — measured not just by efficiency, but by the ability to sustain and enhance life.
For centuries, we’ve generally defined intelligence as the ability to solve problems quickly. But is that definition too narrow? What if intelligence isn’t just about thinking fast, but about how well something, whether a person, a plant, or even a planet, connects, adapts, and thrives in its environment?
Last fall, at a 16th-century church in Tuscany, a group of scientists, philosophers, and writers came together at a new think tank to rethink intelligence from the ground up. We landed on a broader definition — one that might change how you see intelligence itself and who, or what, possesses it.
Defining intelligence
A dictionary will typically define intelligence as something like “the ability to acquire and apply knowledge and skills.” This traditional definition adopts a pragmatic approach: intelligence as a tool to do something. An intelligent person or being (as in “intelligent aliens” or other living creatures) would then be skilled in problem-solving: the more intelligent, the more skilled. We see this way of thinking reflected in our schooling system and the way we “measure” the intellectual potential of our students: timed tests with questions that need to be solved as quickly as possible. The better the test-taker is at solving questions, the higher their grade, and, as it’s usually believed, the more intelligent the student. An “A student” is high-achieving and great at problem-solving and task completion. And at the most extreme, we think of “genius” as the almost super-human capacity to solve problems better than almost anyone else.
The same concept applies to the workplace, where intelligence is often confused with efficiency. Intelligence becomes the ability not only to solve problems well but also fast. The idea, of course, is that this kind of worker will benefit the company by maximizing its profits. Under this lens, the capacity for focusing on a task is paramount. A valued intelligent student or worker is thus an efficient output machine: in comes a problem, out goes the solution. The faster the better.
Of course, there are subtleties. A creative person is also considered intelligent, even if creativity doesn’t necessarily lead to efficient problem-solving. Someone can be highly creative but incapable of completing a task or a project, getting lost in the details, or losing focus; the “bright but scattered” type. But when creativity and focus converge, the results are impressive.
This creative aspect is most evident in the arts. A creative artist is an innovator, someone who invents new ways of communicating through their chosen medium: music, painting, poetry, etc. Innovation is also essential in any STEM discipline and in the workplace. But the creative impulse must be realized in practice, and this is where efficiency and focus come into play. Bach and Mozart, Newton and Einstein, Michelangelo and Picasso are considered geniuses because their rare creative minds were also amazingly efficient at bringing their innovative ideas to completion.
But is this it? Or are there other ways of considering intelligence beyond the traditional “intelligence as an efficient problem-solving tool”?
The Island of Knowledge
Last fall, together with William Egginton from Johns Hopkins University and Kari Gleiser from the AEDP Institute, we opened the doors of The Island of Knowledge (IOK), our think tank located at the Oratorio di Barottoli in Tuscany. IOK is an ongoing experiment on groupthink and cultural network-building, dedicated to addressing some of our most pressing questions. The venue, a secluded church from the 16th century with roots in the 13th century, inspires introspection and reflection, awakening a sense of kinship and togetherness among the participants.
The opening topic was “The Many Kinds of Intelligence: Plant, Animal, Human, Machine, Alien, Planetary, and Emotional,” and it brought together a very eclectic group: astrobiologist (and my fellow 13.8 columnist) Adam Frank, philosopher Evan Thompson, indigenous activist and scholar Yuria Celidwen, plant biologist Monica Gagliano, neuroscientist Peter Tse, essayist Meghan O’Gieblyn, and science writer Amanda Gefter.
Also present were Steve Paulson and Anne Strainchamps, producers and hosts of NPR’s show, To The Best of Our Knowledge. They are producing a podcast series based on our conversations, with the first episode scheduled to air in March 2025. We spent a week together, diving into the nature of intelligence, from the traditional definition to more disruptive ideas.
To examine how embedded the traditional definition of intelligence is in our culture, we asked ChatGPT for a word cloud that captures different aspects of intelligence:
If we take ChatGPT as a mirror for cultural standards, these are the essential aspects most people today identify with intelligence. More importantly, only human intelligence was mentioned or considered. We didn’t specify “human” intelligence in our prompt, but that was ChatGPT’s implicit assumption.
Our group diverged from this objectively human-centric definition, opting for a more organic approach to intelligence. Can we attribute some kind of intelligence to plants? What differentiates the multiple types of intelligence in animals? Could there be a level of planet-wide natural intelligence?
Neuroscientist Peter Tse opened by summarizing the history of neural development in living creatures, highlighting that the precursors to neuronal structures emerged as far back as 600 million years ago, almost as soon as life evolved to become multicellular. Broadly speaking, neuronal bases evolved as decoders of the many environments where different creatures lived, optimized to enhance their survivability: If you have a certain level of awareness of where you are, you have better chances of finding food and defending yourself from attacks.
Remarkably, such multicellular species were not the first creatures capable of decoding their environment. We know this because even unicellular organisms without any neural base, such as the E. coli bacterium, can sense higher concentrations of nutrients and move there to enhance their chances of survival. They sense where there is food and go there to eat: Effectively, they transform sense-making into motor action. Is this adaptive capacity to improve the odds of survival a sign of “intelligence” in bacteria? If intelligence, even in its more limited definition, is the ability to solve problems, then being able to detect food and change directions willingly to eat it seems to be intelligent behavior.
If bacteria show signs of intelligence, it follows that intelligence doesn’t need a neuronal lattice. Neuronal substrates allow for higher and more complex levels of intelligence, of course, but not for intelligent behavior.
Pushing this further, it follows that plant behavior could also be considered intelligent. Plant biologist and IOK participant Monica Gagliano and her collaborators ran laboratory experiments where plants in a maze moved toward the direction of a light source. A fan preceded the shining of the light source. Amazingly, the plants’ movements mean they not only sensed and reacted to changes in their environment but also that they’re capable of learning by association (airflow is correlated to light), choosing to orient their growth toward the much-needed light source. This is an example of stimulus-induced intentional phototropism.
Add to this the collective behavior of forest trees that seem to intentionally guard themselves against predatorial pests and redirect resources to stressed trees through a subterranean network of mycelium, and we must seriously consider a plant-like intelligence quite different from what we are used to. Considering trees have been around for over 300 million years, they must have developed evolutionary strategies to remain alive and thrive in changing circumstances. Beginning with trees and bacteria, it seems that every living creature can solve problems at some level. So, could it be that the different types of intelligence among living beings aren’t really differences in kind but in degree?
Broadening the nature of intelligence to include every living creature brings forward what is perhaps its most universal trait: intelligence is about relationality — the ability of living systems to connect to their environment and react to it, find nourishment, and work individually or collectively to protect themselves.
Intelligence is how life, in all its manifestations, strives to perpetuate itself.
Our think tank group included experts from many different fields. Inevitably, our views on intelligence diverged from the traditional one, weaving together self-organization and emerging adaptation; the dynamic interplay of perception, learning, and memory; agency, autonomy, and sense-making; the interconnectedness of all forms of life, the wisdom that emerges from harmonious relationships with one’s community and the natural world; the capacity to heal, integrate experiences, and adapt to challenges; the urge and ability to interrogate meaning across human experience and societies.
By the end of the week, the group converged on an integrated view of intelligence as distributed, relational, systemic, and deeply embedded in context: the ability of a system — be it a cell, a plant, a mind, or a civilization — to perceive, adapt, relate, and react within its context to ensure its viability, striving to remain alive and vibrant.
Intelligence at the civilization level
Within this view of intelligence, it follows that our human project of civilization is not acting intelligently. If we insist on prioritizing individual success over collective well-being — and here collective includes all forms of life — we will irreversibly disrupt the fragile equilibrium between planet and life, affecting all living forms, including ourselves.
The deep-seated separation between humans and nature that defines our times — the mindless appropriation and destruction of natural resources, and the misguided belief that we can control natural forces through the development and application of new technologies — is a self-defeating illusion rooted in a distorted view of intelligence as efficient problem-solving.
If intelligence is truly about connection and adaptation, then the future will reveal whether we are as smart as we believe ourselves to be. Perhaps the first step is to recognize the relational nature of intelligence as rooted in our evolutionary history. A sick planet cannot sustain healthy living. It should be obvious, right?
