‘Scientists get on many people’s nerves’

When a child plays better than everyone else in a football match in the school playground, all the other kids are impressed. But, when a child eagerly raises their hand in class to give the right answer... Not so much. Why is that?

This question used to intrigue the cultural historian and UU professor Arnoud Visser. In primary school, he was one of those boys who used big words and asked questions about everything. "I was quite clever. Eventually, I realised that people found that extremely annoying. That made me quite shy for a while. At the same time, I wondered what was wrong with my behaviour."

Knowledge is generally considered something positive, but people can also be repelled by it. Nowhere is this more evident than in the figure of the know-it-all: people who flaunt their erudition are usually considered insufferable. Visser's book On Pedantry – A Cultural History of the Know-It-All, published in November, shows that this has always happened. 

In the book, Visser tells the story of several well-read figures and the resistance they provoked in their contemporaries, from the Greek philosopher Socrates, who was ridiculed in plays and even sentenced to death, to pedantic professors from the twentieth century who were mocked in Hollywood films.

These days, one doesn't have to look far to find countless examples of people being labelled as “know-it-alls”. The Dutch politician Frans Timmermans, who speaks several languages, was often accused of being an “elitist” in recent campaigns. In the United States, Donald Trump capitalised on people's aversion to “preachy” Democrats.

"Scientists often encounter a lot of resistance,” says Visser. “We saw this during the coronavirus pandemic, when the Dutch virologist Jaap van Dissel was even threatened. Humanities scholars, like me, also get on many people's nerves.” On Pedantry examines what happens in such situations, both on the part of the know-it-all and on the part of those annoyed by the know-it-all. "I'm not anti-intellectual, as you can imagine," says the author. "But I didn't want to be close-minded and assume that the problem always lies with the other person, either."

According to Visser, intellectuals tend to assume that they are considered annoying because they tell the truth. "In so doing, they follow Socrates, who saw himself as a gadfly that kept people alert. That's a comfortable position to take, because you don't have to reflect on your own behaviour. But I believe we should take a look in the mirror, as doing so can teach you how to share your knowledge more effectively."

'I believe we should take a good look in the mirror'

To define how aversion to intellectuals manifests itself, Visser analysed cartoons, polemics, essays, plays and films spanning over 2,000 years. "It was very challenging because much of it is quite outside my comfort zone." Visser specialises in early modern texts. "I was curious to see if I could discover patterns by looking at the whole from a distance."

Those patterns do indeed exist. According to Visser, the same images return again and again when it comes to know-it-alls. People are rarely repelled by their ideas, but rather by their appearance and behaviour: people perceived as pedantic are said to be ugly or unkempt, inappropriate, long-winded, argumentative, and they are accused of using too many complicated words unnecessarily. It is rarely about what they say, but how they come across. In other words, the know-it-all transgresses a social norm – and that is what annoys people.

What that norm is varies over time – and with it, who is seen as a know-it-all. This is evidenced by how the concept of “masculinity” is used to disqualify intellectuals. Visser explains that, in ancient Rome, men were not allowed to be too sensitive, as that was considered unmanly. However, in the Parisian salons of the 17th century, those who proclaimed their knowledge in a boorish or coarse manner were despised. In this context, the know-it-all was the guy who was too masculine. Today, the ultimate know-it-all is the mansplainer, someone who does not restrain his masculinity.

‘It's hard to guarantee the quality of knowledge in a digital world.’

If that social norm is constantly changing, does that also apply to how easily that label is applied? At a time in which facts are not simply accepted as true, are intellectuals perhaps dismissed as know-it-alls more quickly? "That is historically difficult to measure, so I wouldn't dare say," says Visser. "But I have the impression that something is going on. The irritation about know-it-all behaviour is so ubiquitous now."

Visser believes that changes in the infrastructure of knowledge may offer a possible explanation. "It's hard to guarantee the quality of knowledge in a digital world, and the rise of artificial intelligence has added another dimension to this. In addition, populist politicians are on the rise. They place strong emphasis on rejecting the establishment, including traditional knowledge institutions. That creates a lot of noise."

Arnoud Visser. Foto: Ed van Rijswijk

However, Visser warns that we shouldn't focus only on the current situation. "History shows us that the rejection of 'scholarly' knowledge is a recurrent reflex."  In his book, Visser describes the campaign of Andrew Jackson, who defeated John Adams in the US presidential election at the beginning of the 19th century. Jackson, a former general, appealed to common sense, while Adams, who had studied at Harvard, was portrayed as someone far removed from the common folk.

'People often react by thinking: "Who does he think he is?"'

Why do people get so worked up when others flaunt their knowledge ostentatiously? "As a historian, I have more evidence for how this happens than why," Visser emphasises. He suspects that power may be an important factor, as expressing knowledge can come across as a claim to social distinction. People may see the know-it-all as someone who is trying to convey that they are above others. "People often react by thinking: 'Who does he think he is?"'

In ancient times, those in power felt that philosophers talked too much for the social position they held. In the Middle Ages, those who acted pedantically were not humble enough before God. Since the rise of capitalism, well-read figures have regularly been dismissed as useless because their knowledge is said to have little economic value.

What can we learn from all this? Visser: "If you're bothered by a know-it-all, you should ask yourself: 'Which social norm is being violated here, and is that really all that bad?'" But, again, know-it-alls must take a look in the mirror, too. "They should develop social antennae, enabling them to sense when their behaviour annoys others. Just because people get angry doesn't mean you're on the right track. Those who realise this become more effective know-it-alls. A healthy dose of self-doubt always helps."

‘At the university, we have a tendency to focus on the transmission of information.'

Visser has difficulty defining exactly what this means in a university context. "I quickly come across as patronising, which is precisely what I want to avoid," he says. "Although I can say that a lecture should be an open exchange of ideas, in which people dare to make mistakes. I notice that at the university, we sometimes tend to focus on transmitting information. Teachers and students ask questions that are more like comments; researchers present their papers at conferences in such a complicated way that they become incomprehensible. There is room for improvement there."

In addition, Visser believes that scientists can learn something from Benjamin Franklin, especially when dealing with the general – and often not particularly sympathetic – public. "In his autobiography, he writes that he was a fanatical debater in his youth, but noticed that this didn't make him popular. He discovered that it was more effective to ask critical questions of the other person than to aggressively defend his position. Being argumentative, even if you have every right to be, is usually counterproductive."