Pride and prejudice (and populism): How reading becomes elitist

It is a basic human decency to not look down on how others choose to spend their downtime. Whether it is running or collecting action figures, it should not be anyone’s concern. Though, it is hard not to be a little judgmental when the soon-to-be second-most powerful person in your country admitted to not liking reading ‘heavy’ books, and that reading was not a big part of him growing up. More frustratingly, some people were quick to jump to his defence, calling him a down to earth and relatable person.

I do not make that anecdote up, despite the cliche. It is just one among many instances of anti-intellectualism and anti-science behaviours that we are used to witnessing now around the world, of which the rise, I argue, is inseparable from the rapid rise of populism in the mid-2000’s and 2010’s; from Maduro to the Shinawatra clan to Trump, from Brexit to anti-immigration to climate change denial. Political scientists like Mudde and Rovira-Kaltwasser consider populism as a ‘thin’ ideology – too insignificant to provide a blueprint for social change. Populism is always attached to more established, even contradicting, ideologies on both ends of the spectrum.

While it is not precisely easy to pinpoint it, populism is recognisable when we see one: there is ‘the people’ juxtaposed against ‘the elite’. This cynical sentiment drives the affinity with anti-establishment and delegitimisation of experts, including scientists or intellectuals.

Intellectualism and elitism: Two sides of the same coin?

In developing countries, education remains an enabler of social mobility. A university degree will go a long way in one’s life; securing a well-paying white-collar job, capital accumulation, an enjoyable lifestyle, and perhaps just as important is being valued more for their contribution to society without having to literally break a sweat in the heat.

While education is a path to upward mobility, it can also fuel resentment. Hostility toward intellectuals stems from a combination of their ability to adapt to the changing time and, in some cases, their perceived ‘luck’ in accessing better opportunities. Intellectuals are sometimes perceived as proud and dismissive of those who haven’t had access to higher education, contributing to the divide between ‘the educated’ elite and ‘the people’. Amid the anxiety and emotional defeat of not being and seen as good enough, the wounded dignity, and the real-life consequence of not prospering financially and socially, defensiveness seems a natural reaction.

Populism, then, is not so much of an ideology but a political strategy. When being educated and informed are a privilege rather than a right, there is bound to be a sense of exclusion for those that fail to attain them. The helpless people are now being dominated by the new elite of intellectuals and the educated who always criticise their every move. Populist communication utilises anti-science discourse in attacking the legitimacy of experts with conspiracies of scientists collaborating with the elite to manipulate the masses. Being an intellect is seen as belonging in an exclusive group in the confines of the ivory tower, preaching about solutions to global warming that sideline the people’s way of life, and basically, their existence.

Paving the (accessible and inclusive) way forward

Finding out that your vice-president-elect is averse to reading is just among the many unpleasant surprises that caught some Indonesians off guard. As Ian Wilson put it somberly, the February election was an “election to end all elections”, with everyone seemingly turning a blind eye to abuses of power and the track records of the victors. Despite the lack of robust quantitative data that reveals a positive correlation of social assistance and people voting for Prabowo-Gibran, there have been too many instances that suggest so. Especially when a sitting minister shamelessly urged the public to vote for a certain candidate so they can keep receiving assistance.

Although, if anything, it should snap some of us out of our privileged bubble. Through faults both of our own and out of our control, scientific discourse and political literacy have failed to form outside of classrooms and conference walls, resulting in costly repercussions, such as fear of self-censorship.

Education and literacy are powerful tools in combating apathy, which makes one susceptible to populists’ emotional charge and simplification of sociopolitical issues. Obviously, it is easier to make sense of a free meal programme as a solution to eradicating malnutrition rather than delve deep into its structural causes like child marriage, access to education, lack of infrastructure, socioeconomic status, inadequate support for working parents, under-optimised data, etc. A free meal programme is simpler and easy to digest (no pun intended) for voters at first glance.

Populists, according to Mudde, only offer to emancipate the oppressed by making them aware of their oppression. Thus, there must be an alternative that offers one more step to that: to uplift the dignity of the oppressed through education, literacy, and critical thinking. More importantly, education must offer political and civic narratives that are inclusive and just in addressing social, political, and economic disenfranchisement. If we are to combat this growing disdain for intellectualism and the apathy that follows, we must make education not just accessible but empowering. Critical thinking should be nurtured, not feared. We must build a future where civic literacy is widespread, and intellectual engagement is valued—not dismissed.