On
the
Calling-Stupid of People
November 2006
When I was in
elementary
school,
there was this one day when we had recess indoors
because it was
raining. Some of the kids were playing board games, and
others were
drawing pictures on the blackboard with colored chalk. I was
one of the children who was drawing, by myself over in a
corner of the board. After a while, I'd created a picture
that I
thought was pretty good. I wasn’t boasting about
it or
calling
attention to myself in any way but, just as I was finishing, another
boy ran over, knocked me down, and erased the drawing.
Confused by the other boy’s actions and enraged to
the
point of
tears, I responded — not violently, but verbally.
I
called the
other kid stupid.
In fact, I called him The
Stupidest Kid in
the Class.
At this point, the teacher noticed the conflict and came
rushing over.
I was sure that the bully was about to be
appropriately
punished for the senseless and unprovoked attack — so imagine my
surprise when the teacher grabbed me
by the arm,
dragged me
out into the hallway, and proceeded to
lecture me
about how terrible it is to call people
stupid.
I
explained that the other boy had started it,
and that, besides, all
the kids called one another stupid
all the time — it was a standard insult. The boy who
wrecked my drawing had even called me
stupid before and not gotten dragged out into the hallway for it.
“That doesn’t matter,” the
teacher
replied. “He can call you stupid ’til
the
cows come home, and it
doesn’t matter, because you
know you’re smart. But he isn’t.
He struggles with
everything. When you
call him
stupid, it matters.”
And that was how it went. I got
punished, and the other kid didn’t — even though he started it; even
though
his offense had
involved physical violence; even though the drawing had been really,
really cool. The “moral” was
clear: if you’re smart, calling
people stupid is
the worst thing you can do; worse even than physically
assaulting someone for no reason.
Today,
by launching this website, I hereby call bullshit on this.
The
idea that
calling someone stupid (if you yourself are smart) is the worst thing
you can do is a pretty damn bad idea to disseminate throughout a
culture. The result is that stupid people can do stupid
things with
impunity — that they can basically skate through life daring
people to call them stupid, knowing that if smart people take the bait
and do so, an even bigger reproach will be leveled at them
by the rest of society. This creates a
win-win
situation for
stupid people, and one that survives into adult society. In
an
argument, the dumber person
always has
the advantage of being able to present the smarter person with what I
like to call the “Smarter-Than-Me
Paradox,” as follows:
“Either
you’re not
claiming to be smarter than I am, in which case I should not
listen to
you,
since there’s no point in changing my mind
to agree with
someone
who
is no
smarter than I am, or
you are claiming to be smarter than
I am, in
which
case I should not listen to you, since on principle
I shouldn’t
listen to someone who is so exceedingly conceited
and cruel as to
claim
to be
smarter
than other people.” |
As
a result, the
smarter person’s only
recourse is to argue the position that they are both equally
smart, but have had different experiences,
and that this
is why they disagree. The PC
movement
was largely based on this idea — so much so that its
proponents began to actually
accept as fact
the idea that no-one is any smarter than anyone else. But
this was a
huge mistake. The result was the mainstream acceptance of the
idea that all
disagreement is based on experience,
and never arises from a simple inequity of intellect. Because
of this, it became
impossible to ever get anyone
to change their mind about anything.
After all, why
should
they? An experience
cannot be
“right” or “wrong,” and so
political and philosophical belief was demoted to the level of taste,
no different from preferring one style of music over another.
We're
used to the idea that calling
someone stupid is a moral failing, but that being
stupid is not
one. This is extremely dangerous, considering the fact that
all of
history’s great evils — from the Crusades to the
Salem Witch Trials to
the Holocaust — have been perpetrated by stupid people
who were
basing their actions on ideas that smart people could easily have
disproved.
What
devices do
stupid people use to reinforce this
idea, you ask?
Let’s
say a smart person is in a cafeteria, at work or at school, and
overhears a group of stupid people discussing their adherence to some
idea that is demonstrably false. Any interference or
correction on the
part of the smart person will very likely be met with rage.
He or she
will be accused of “thinking they know everything.”
But is this fair?
The stupid people, after all, were not discussing
“everything”
— they were discussing one
specific thing, and the
smart person has only demonstrated that they claim to know more about this
specific topic (as indeed they almost certainly do). If any
demonstration that one knows something
is met with
accusations that one claims to know everything,
then what is a smart person to do? We would all have to
pretend
to be as
dumb as the dumbest person present at all times for our entire lives —
and yet, even if we did this, then someone
else
would appear to be the smartest person in the room and be met with the
same accusation.
There
might be a few readers who would
seek to
inject a bit of relativism into the dynamic here.
How can we
speak flatly of dumb
people and smart
people, they might ask, when everyone is smarter
than some
people and dumber
than others?
It's
a fair question. The dividing line is
partly a matter of
how one reacts.
Let’s
say that, in another
cafeteria, a group
of fairly
intelligent people are discussing advanced physics, and that, since
they are not experts on physics, there are some things that
they’re
getting wrong. If someone seated at the other end of the
table were to
lean over and say “Excuse me, but I’m a Professor
of Physics, and there
are a few things you’re getting wrong here; I could explain
them to
you, if you’d like,” the people who are less
knowledgeable about this particular
topic, but
still smart in general,
would welcome
this intrusion, wouldn’t they? They certainly
wouldn’t respond by
saying “Fuck off, Smarter Person — we liked it just
fine when we were
getting it completely wrong,” because they're smart enough to want to know more.
But
truly dumb
people react in the opposite and angry way, in any number of
situations,
on a regular basis. They have to. Telling smart
people to fuck off is what they live for.
Another
favorite device of theirs is to
protest
that they were only having a
conversation, and
don’t feel like having a debate — but
is this distinction really worth anything? If someone
is stating
a belief and explaining why they believe it, then this person is making
an argument
(see Frequently
Misused Terms entry for argument),
even
if they are doing so in an
informal setting. So, when they say that they were only
having a conversation,
what they mean is that they prefer to have a one-sided
debate
and are demanding the right to only ever be in the presence of people
who already agree with them — but no-one has this right.
Since
most people — and, I guess, with good reason — may still consider it
rude
to
eavesdrop on
people and then interrupt them, regardless of who is more intelligent,
I should mention that this dynamic certainly doesn't always have to
involve
overhearing and interrupting. How many times have you been in
the
presence of someone who espouses a viewpoint directly
to
a
group of people, and then, after realizing that someone else in the
group does not agree and is beginning to offer a
response, announces that they “don’t
feel like
discussing it,” and
demands that the subject be
changed?
What
they mean is that they did
feel like
discussing it when they thought everyone agreed
with them, but didn’t
anymore once they
realized that this wasn’t the case, and that the person
who
disagrees is smarter
than they are — which means
that, if a debate ensues, they will definitely lose.
They might even protest that the person who was about to
respond would
be violating their right to Free Speech by doing so, because, being an
idiot, they have absolutely no idea what “Free Speech” does or
doesn't mean (see Frequently
Misused Terms entry for Free
Speech).
Another
favorite tactic
of the dumb is to alter the
nature of the disagreement so that the focus is on the personalities
of the people
involved, rather than on the
comparative worth
of the ideas
being discussed. They will say that the smart person just
“likes
being right,”
or that
they are “one
of those people who have to be right all the time.”
The
first form of the objection is clearly
ridiculous — who
the fuck doesn’t
like being right? — but the second form must be examined in more
detail. Now,
it’s obvious that smart people can accurately be described as
“people who are
right more
of
the time than other people” — after all,
isn’t that what being smart
means?
But as
for having
to be right, in the sense of
its being some kind of psychological
problem?
Just who is it who’s really
like that here? When smart people consider a question, they
use the
scientific method: they take their personalities and identities out of
the equation, examine the evidence, consider all possible options
fairly, and arrive at the best conclusion possible; or, if a clear
conclusion cannot be reached, they admit it. In the
scientific
community, when one scientist proves other scientists wrong, they
change their positions to the correct one, and sometimes even thank
the person who proved them wrong — after all,
hasn’t this person done them a service? They used
to be wrong, and now
they’re not. On the
other hand, when you prove a dumb
person wrong,
they get pissed at you, call you a dick, and continue
to believe the wrong thing just
because it makes you mad. Doesn’t that make them
the
“people
who have to be right all the time?”
American parents
regularly tell their children that
“one of these days they’re going to outsmart
themselves,” or warn
them against becoming
“too smart for their
own good,”
and even use the word smart
itself as a synonym for disrespectful,
as in “a smart
answer.” Our culture has become so permeated with
the idea
that being
dumb is morally superior to being smart, or that uninformed discussion
is “nicer” than informed discussion (both
Conservatives and many
Liberals are guilty here) that it’s causing people to
misinterpret the
world around them. We have this idea of the “evil
genius,” and it is
one of the things we most fear — even before dumb people
rallied around
George W. Bush, most Americans responded in polls that they
didn’t want
a president who was “too
smart;”
they thought that the president should employ smart advisors,
but be only average or a bit above-average in terms of intelligence.
Western
anti-intellectualism has become so powerful in
recent
history that now we even conceptualize the embodiment of evil, the
Nazis, as “evil geniuses,”
and
picture them doing high-culture
stuff like listening to opera and putting their cigarettes in between
their pinky and ring finger instead of over by the thumb like normal
people — but in reality, the Nazis were extremely dumb guys
who, like
most extremely dumb guys, just wanted an excuse to get drunk and beat
the shit out of people. Some of their leaders pretended to be
into Art
and stuff, but this was mainly for the sake of their image and they
actually didn’t know crap about it. As for Nazi
“science,” it was fake,
made-up science that anyone who knew even a little bit about real
science could easily disprove (and indeed it was
disproved — but the Nazis, like most dumb people,
didn’t care). So trying
to use
the Nazis as evidence for a condemnation of science would be like using
a guy who dresses up like a fireman and then kills a bunch of people as
a rationale for saying that actual
firemen are a
bad thing.
Even before this
image of the Nazis became
widespread, the
figure of the “mad scientist” could be found
everywhere in Western
Culture, from Dr. Frankenstein to Lex Luthor; it is as if people
believe that being smart causes
someone to become
evil. Of
course, this requires you to forget the fact that,
traditionally, Superman is actually infinitely smarter
than Luthor — he has super-intelligence
in addition to his other abilities, and in college he had to deliberately
miss questions on tests so that no-one would suspect he was Superman
(indeed, most people have
forgotten
this — but they seem to be remembering the part about him being
really strong
just fine).
As for Dr.
Frankenstein — the character whose name is inevitably invoked
whenever smart people get too uppity — extracting
a condemnation of intelligence
from his
story is actually wholly backwards, whether we are talking about the
book or
the many movie versions of it. In the book, Frankenstein
gives life to
the Creature, and then makes the relatively minor mistake of freaking
out for a second (which is totally understandable) and leaving the
room, during which time the Creature escapes — but at this
point the
Creature is a totally nice guy, and he only gets pissed off and evil after
dumb people
try to kill him about a million
times because of the
way he looks. In the movie version, the Creature is evil
because
Frankenstein’s retarded assistant Fritz (not
“Igor” — watch the movie!) gets lazy and
brings back a psychopath’s brain. The moral of the
book is
“don’t try
to kill people just because
they look weird,” and
the moral of the movie is
“don’t have
a retarded assistant.”
In neither case is the moral anything about how
it’s bad to be “too
smart.”
In both cases, it was dumb people who fucked things up. The moral is also not anything about how it’s wrong to “play God,”
since the book’s author, Mary Shelley, didn’t
believe in God. She was,
however, a genius who wrote one of the greatest novels of all time when
she was only nineteen — so if you do
think that Frankenstein
is a cautionary tale about being “too smart,” how
do you reconcile the
fact that the person who gave us this great moral truth would probably
have seemed to you to be “too smart for her own
good” if you had known
her? (Sure, she later talked about the book being
“cursed” or whatever,
but that was just, you know, to be cool and stuff.)
The
figure of the “evil
genius” makes for a better story — but
this is precisely because it is not
what usually happens in real life. The vast majority of
geniuses are
good, and the vast majority of dumb people are dicks — hence,
an “evil
genius” is ironic
and therefore
interesting. Just look back
over your own life and ask yourself: How many
“evil
geniuses” have you
known, compared with how many dumb
assholes?
It certainly
doesn’t sound so much anymore
like the smart
people are the ones who are being
“rude,”
does it? Of course, someone might still object that it is not
always so
easy to tell the difference — after all, in any given
conversation, who
knows which is the smart person and which is the dumb person?
But if
one only looks back over all these previous examples, the answer is
clear: the dumb person knows.
Why else
would dumb
people behave
this way? A smart person invites open debate, because they
know that
they can disprove whatever objections or counterarguments a dumb person
might have, and that doing so will only strengthen their position in
the eyes of onlookers. The dumb person, on the other hand, knows
that they will lose, which is why it is in their interest — and
in only
their interest — for
differences of opinion to be demoted to the level of indisputable tastes,
and for the smart people who object to this characterization to be seen
as rude
and conceited. Have you ever noticed that, when people are observing a
disagreement
between a smart person and a dumb person, they will allow the dumb
person to call the smart person an “idiot” and so
forth again and
again, but become enraged and offended if the smart person says it
back — and that even the people who supposedly agree
with the dumb person’s position act this way? Well, think about it: if
they really
agree with the dumb person and think that they
are
the one who is smarter, then shouldn’t they be offended when
the dumb
person says it? The horrible
truth at the
center of all this is that, deep down, dumb people know
that they are dumb. They know
that their
beliefs
are wrong and can be disproved by anyone who is not dumb.
They know
that the world would improve if they cast off these positions, but
they refuse to do so, simply to spite
the smart people
out of jealousy. What could be more rude
and conceited
than that?
Finally, I'd like to
close by addressing the fact
that, in many
of out examples, the figure of the smart person stands alone against a
sea of united dumb people. This may have led many readers to
assume that the argument is actually a lament for the fact that smart
people are unpopular — and
indeed, the
accusation that smart people are just trying to ruin
everyone’s fun because
they have no
friends
is a common reproach leveled at the smart by the dumb. But
this is only
another of the many fallacious arguments that dumb people use to try
and make themselves feel better about being dumb. In the
story I
related at the beginning of the essay, for example, how many of you
assumed that I was a “nerd” in sixth grade and that
the bully who
assaulted me was popular? If you did, you were
wrong — I
actually had way more
friends than the bully. Why
do you think
you assumed otherwise? Does it always seem to you as if dumb
people are
acting on behalf of humanity in general, rather than as if smart people
are the ones who are doing so? Who do you think taught you to reason that way? I’m certainly not
disputing
the fact
that dumb people outnumber
smart
people — only pointing out that this doesn’t
necessarily make them the
good guys.
|