Many great minds have expressed a deep sense of respect—if not outright awe—for the persistent presence of human stupidity.
Albert Einstein reportedly said, “Two things are infinite: the universe and human stupidity—and I’m not sure about the universe.” While the authenticity of the quote might be up for debate, the sentiment rings true. Then there’s Carlo M. Cipolla, an economics professor who developed the “Basic Laws of Human Stupidity,” treating stupidity as a force as inevitable and unstoppable as gravity itself. Could it be that “Stupidology” has been lurking under our noses all along?
According to Daniel Kahneman, a Nobel laureate in economics, more than 96% of human decisions are driven by our intuitive System 1 thinking—essentially, those quick, gut-level decisions that bypass deliberate reasoning. In other words, Stupidology is deeply woven into the fabric of everyday life and work. It shows up everywhere: in our routines, our relationships, and even in organizations. In fact, stupidity—better yet, Stupidology—has become such a prominent obstacle that it might be one of the biggest roadblocks to scientific and societal progress. So, wouldn’t it make sense for researchers—and humanity at large—to master the science of Stupidology? Shouldn’t it be a foundational subject in academia?
Yet somehow, we have entire fields devoted to making people smarter—philosophy, logic, mathematics, and even dubious subjects like “Success Studies.” But strangely, there’s no dedicated course to help students grasp the intricacies of Stupidology.
The key problem is this: intelligence and Stupidology are not two sides of the same coin. Learning the theory of intelligence doesn’t necessarily teach you how to avoid stupidity. History is littered with examples of brilliant people doing profoundly dumb things. Conversely, people we might consider “not so bright” have been known to make astonishingly good decisions. If intelligence and Stupidology were simple opposites, such contradictions wouldn’t exist. Clearly, these are two distinct phenomena with different underlying mechanisms—and both deserve their own field of study.
Given that human civilization spans thousands of years, and universities have existed for more than a millennium, it’s hard to believe that the world’s intellectual elite have overlooked such an obvious issue. Could it be that Stupidology has been hiding in plain sight all along, disguised as something else? Just as philosophy, in some sense, could be viewed as “The Study of Intelligence,” perhaps Stupidology has taken on more subtle forms.
A prime suspect might be psychology. After all, psychology deals extensively with cognitive biases—arguably the main source of Stupidology. Think of the famous Dunning-Kruger effect, which explains how people with low competence often overestimate their abilities. But there’s a catch: psychology as a formal discipline is relatively young, just over a century old. And Stupidology seems to run deeper than the realm of cognitive science. It might be hardwired into our very DNA—sometimes even manifesting as medical disorders, which hints at biological roots. Yet Stupidology is also shaped by social forces, becoming even more apparent in the information age. So, it’s not just a psychological issue; it’s a complex interplay of biology, society, and technology.
Now, should we also question management studies? So many companies and organizations operate in a state of perpetual chaos. Could management theory simply be “Organized Stupidology” in disguise? If we follow this line of reasoning, sociology, economics, medicine, and even artificial intelligence could all be forms of Stupidology dressed up in academic robes. At this point, you have to wonder: is every academic field, in some way, a study of Stupidology?
Come to think of it… maybe that’s exactly the case.