How to be Anti-Intellectual

There are two ways to be anti-intellectual. One is dangerous. The other is healthy.

First, the dangerous way. In this stream of anti-intellectualism, I hear people say, "Well, I hate to read. I just catch the headlines." This group (full of conservatives and liberals depending upon where you live) polarizes the conversation (or lack thereof) with words like "naive, crazy, ignorant, and stupid." I can't tell you how many times I heard people, on the right and left, use such words towards someone whose political viewpoint was different them. All those comments really do is betray the lack of wisdom of the one speaking.

This kind of anti-intellectualism (the bad kind) does not seek to understand the other side of an issue (be it political, spiritual, etc.) . . . rather, this side has it all figured out. The answers are clear-cut, even if they've never considered that there questions might be really bad questions. In this frame of mind, you listen to your favorite polarizing radio voice, read only a few periodicals printed by your stated constituency, and if, by chance, you read a book, it will not be from someone who might totally give you a different slant into the world but someone you know you can trust because, after all, they think like you do. Faces get red. Speeches get slurred. Ideas are out the window. Now, you find yourself defending things that you don't know about as much as you claim.

I reject that kind of anti-intellectualism. It stands against Jesus' disposition of entering into people's lives, asking questions, having dialog, seeing the image of God in every person one encounters. This kind of anti-intellectualism is the easy way out.

There's another kind of anti-intellectualism. This kind seeks to gain knowledge vigorously through books, news, media, conversations, experience, and dialog. These persons might be conservatives or liberals (or neither) but they surround themselves with diverse viewpoints. They are committed to learning and to the process of changing their mind, because, if you've gone twenty years (or two) without changing your mind on something you probably aren't learning. The more one learns, the more one realizes that knowledge is fleeting and that we are all ignorant save a few subjects.

This anti-intellectualism loves to say, "I might be wrong but here's what I think." It always seeks perspective, nuance, and viewpoint. One can have strong conviction and still exist in this camp. It's not easy. Our church, social, and political climates want so desperately for you to come to the dark side. The side that says everything is "black and white" . . . "clear as the nose on my face." The side that says, "If you are a Christian you will clearly vote for _______." Or, "If you are a real citizen you'd believe _________."

I choose to be anti-intellectual. Not in the sense that I have it figured out and know I am hoping others will come to see my point of view. Rather, I want to be the kind of anti-intellectual who reads everything from Plato to Hitchens but also realizes that the greatest wisdom in life often comes from the janitor at the seminary or the teacher's aide at the elementary school (or the carpenter from Nazareth).

A note to Christians. When you become the first kind of anti-intellectual (the bad kind) you confirm what most of America already thinks about Christianity. That we are naive, narrow-minded, incapable of wrestling with life's big questions. This does not mean we bow to the gods of pluralism and tolerance. Rather, it means we seek "truth knowing that we alone do not possess the ability to know truth absolutely." For the sake of the world (and your marriage), pursue wisdom vigorously, but don't ever think you've arrived. The tide of history will go out, and you'll be left on the shore holding life's great equalizer: hind-sight.