In today’s world, where science and technology are advancing rapidly, many people seem to dislike deep thinking, especially in subjects like literature, philosophy, or sociology. This attitude—called anti-intellectualism—is not just about disliking books or being anti-education. It stems from something much deeper: a sense of insecurity and a system that has failed people.
When people lack access to quality education, sufficient food, a safe home, or time to rest, they don’t get the chance to learn how to think deeply, ask questions, or understand complex ideas. They are forced to focus only on survival. So, when they hear someone speak about big or unfamiliar ideas, they often feel uncomfortable, confused, or even angry. This can turn into dislike or distrust of those who think differently, especially those who seem more educated or “smarter.”
This is often why people mock or look down on subjects like the humanities—which include literature, history, philosophy, and sociology. These subjects are seen as “easy” or “useless” compared to science or maths. But in truth, they are very challenging. They ask us to examine society, ask difficult questions, think about morality, and sometimes even question long-held traditions or beliefs. For someone who was never taught to think critically, this can feel threatening. That’s also why we are seeing a rise in conservative ideologies, especially in places where people are struggling. These ideologies offer simple answers and clear rules, which feel safe and familiar—unlike the complex and often uncomfortable questions the humanities raise.
There’s another reason people dislike intellectualism: historical injustice. For a long time, only the rich or upper-caste had access to education. They were the only ones allowed to speak, write, or be taken seriously. Poor people, women, indigenous communities, and marginalised castes were excluded from academic spaces. Dalits and women were sometimes punished, even killed—for trying to learn, write, or speak up.
Meanwhile, many ideas from indigenous scholars and cultures were stolen, renamed, and claimed by more powerful groups. Even today, most well-known theories or scientific ideas are named after European men, while important work by thinkers outside Europe is often ignored or treated as mere “inspiration” rather than original knowledge. For example, we hear about Newton’s laws or Darwin’s theory, but not much about Aryabhatta from India, Ibn Sina from the Islamic Golden Age, or ancient African and Chinese scholars. Their work was just as valuable, but their names and voices were erased.
Also, many poor people have never had the time to write philosophy or study deeply, because they have to work to feed their families. Thinking and writing were luxuries only the wealthy could afford. That is why today, many people see “intellectualism” as something only the rich can pursue—and they begin to hate or distrust everything that reminds them of the upper class, including education, abstract thinking, or those who talk about new ideas. In fact, this kind of anti-intellectual thinking seems to be growing as living conditions worsen and wealth inequality increases. People feel more frustrated and hopeless, and so they begin to blame those they see as part of the system that failed them—including intellectuals.
In a way, anti-intellectualism might have anti-capitalist roots—or at least its anger comes from deep inequality. People are frustrated that education, knowledge, and deep thinking have long been treated as luxuries—things only the rich or powerful could afford. But the problem is, instead of directing this anger toward the systems that kept these luxuries out of reach, many anti-intellectuals end up supporting those very systems. They don’t attack the structure that failed them—they attack the people who still try to think, question, or imagine something better. They see modern intellectuals as part of the elite, even if those intellectuals are also trying to challenge the system. In doing so, they miss the real enemy.
This isn’t a defence of anti-intellectualism. It’s simply a modest attempt to understand a dangerous trend—one that has real consequences. Rising conservatism, increasing censorship, and hostility toward thinkers, artists, and educators—all of this signals that something is shifting. People are being taught to fear critical thinking because it’s unfamiliar, uncomfortable, and difficult. But that fear is being weaponised by those in power to keep people obedient and silent.
At the heart of this, perhaps what’s really happening is that people are being fed propaganda while simultaneously getting a small taste of something new and unsettling—like self-reflection, doubt, and critical thought. But instead of being supported through that discomfort, they’re taught to mock, reject, or even destroy it. That keeps them trapped: still struggling, still angry— but with no real tools to change their lives.
And so, the world loses something important. We lose voices that could have changed the conversation. We lose futures that could have been filled with new ideas. A world without thinkers is a world without growth. And anti-intellectualism, though born from pain, ends up keeping that pain alive.
