Dr. Srabani Basu, Associate Professor, Dept. of Literature and Languages, Easwari School of Liberal Arts, SRM University-AP
The other day I found myself wondering whether common sense should be declared an endangered species. Tigers have Project Tiger. Vultures have conservation programmes. Rivers are being rejuvenated. Forests are protected. Common sense, however, appears to have been abandoned to its fate. We invoke it with astonishing frequency—”It’s just common sense!”—yet we encounter it with the rarity of a solar eclipse. Perhaps the greatest irony of our age is that while artificial intelligence grows exponentially more sophisticated, natural intelligence occasionally forgets that a “Pull” door will not respond to determined pushing.
The modern world is overflowing with intelligence. We have built machines that can beat world champions at chess, detect diseases from medical images, compose symphonies and converse in multiple languages. Our smartphones possess more computing power than the computers that once guided astronauts to the moon. Yet the same species that engineered these marvels continues to stand directly in front of elevator doors before allowing passengers to step out, presses the lift button repeatedly as though impatience accelerates machinery, and sends emails saying, “Please find the attachment,” while forgetting to attach the attachment. If aliens were observing us from a distance, they would probably conclude that Homo sapiens is an exceptionally intelligent species that occasionally suffers from spectacular lapses of acquaintance with itself.
This raises an intriguing question. If human beings have become increasingly knowledgeable, why does common sense seem to be disappearing? The answer perhaps lies in our misunderstanding of what common sense actually is. We often confuse it with intelligence. They are not identical twins; they are distant cousins who meet only during family gatherings. Intelligence enables us to solve complex equations. Common sense tells us not to park our car in front of the only hospital entrance. Intelligence can design a rocket capable of escaping Earth’s gravitational pull. Common sense remembers to check whether there is enough fuel before beginning the journey. One dazzles with complexity; the other quietly prevents unnecessary disasters.
Psychology offers an interesting explanation for this paradox. The human brain was never designed primarily to seek truth; it evolved to conserve energy. It relies on mental shortcuts, assumptions and patterns that allow us to make thousands of decisions without consciously analysing every situation. Most of the time these shortcuts are remarkably efficient. Occasionally, however, they become spectacularly unhelpful. Daniel Kahneman’s pioneering work on cognitive biases demonstrated that human judgement is systematically vulnerable to predictable errors. We do not merely make irrational decisions; we make them in remarkably consistent ways. Our brains prefer familiar conclusions over accurate ones because thinking deeply is metabolically expensive. In other words, common sense often loses not because it is absent, but because our cognitive autopilot reaches the destination before our reflective mind has even started the engine.
This perhaps explains why organisations frequently spend enormous amounts of money solving problems that common sense could have prevented at almost no cost. A minor issue is ignored because everyone assumes someone else will deal with it. Weeks later, it blossoms into a full-fledged crisis. Consultants are hired, committees are formed, colourful PowerPoint presentations emerge with pie charts, arrows and ambitious action plans. Hours of deliberation finally produce a recommendation that the receptionist had quietly suggested three months earlier. Common sense possesses an unfortunate habit of becoming brilliant only after hindsight has promoted it to expert status.
Education, ironically, has contributed to this dilemma in subtle ways. We have become exceptional specialists. One individual understands quantum computing, another deciphers genetic sequences, while a third can explain the intricacies of financial derivatives. Yet expertise in one domain does not automatically translate into sound judgement in everyday life. We have accumulated unprecedented quantities of information but have often neglected discernment—the ability to distinguish the essential from the trivial, evidence from opinion, urgency from importance. Information answers questions. Wisdom decides which questions deserve to be asked in the first place. Common sense quietly inhabits that neglected space between the two.
Social media has added another fascinating twist to the story. Earlier, poor judgement was largely a private affair. Today it enjoys a global audience. People record accidents before helping the victims. Restaurants have become photography studios where meals patiently wait while diners negotiate the perfect angle for an Instagram post. Opinions travel across continents in seconds, while reflection struggles to keep pace. Algorithms reward confidence, not accuracy; certainty, not curiosity. The louder the proclamation, the more attention it attracts. Common sense, unfortunately, has never been particularly theatrical. It rarely raises its voice. It usually whispers, “Perhaps we should verify this first.” Whispering, however, is not an effective strategy in an economy driven by clicks.
Shakespeare understood this long before neuroscience provided empirical evidence. His greatest tragedies are not populated by unintelligent characters. Macbeth is courageous and perceptive. Hamlet possesses extraordinary intellectual depth. King Lear commands authority and experience. Their downfall arises not from the absence of intelligence but from failures of judgement. They misread people, confuse impulse with insight, allow emotion to overpower discernment and mistake certainty for wisdom. Shakespeare reminds us that the greatest threat to humanity has never been ignorance alone; it is intelligence disconnected from judgement. Four centuries later, brain science is arriving at a remarkably similar conclusion.
Common sense is perhaps uncommon not because human beings have become less intelligent but because modern civilisation has become increasingly impatient. We reward speed over reflection, reaction over observation, certainty over curiosity and information over understanding. We have learned to answer questions at breathtaking speed, yet we have forgotten the quiet discipline of pausing long enough to ask whether we are asking the right question at all. Common sense lives in that pause. It flourishes in moments of awareness that refuse to be hurried.
Perhaps common sense has never truly disappeared. It has simply become unfashionably silent in a civilisation addicted to noise. It does not shout. It does not trend. It does not seek followers. It quietly stands in the corner, watching humanity invent increasingly sophisticated ways of complicating astonishingly simple problems.
And if common sense could write its own resignation letter, I imagine it would contain just one sentence:
“I assumed you no longer required my services.”
