The Decline of Intelligence

As a voice for the working class, I’ve spent years advocating for the folks who keep this world running—the factory workers, the truck drivers, the teachers, the nurses. These are the people who get up every day, punch the clock, and carry the weight of the world on their shoulders. But lately, I’ve been struck by a troubling trend that’s not just affecting our paychecks or our job security—it’s eroding the very foundation of our society. It’s the celebration of stupidity, a cultural shift that’s not only dangerous but disproportionately harms the working class. I’ve been reflecting on this, and I can’t shake the feeling that we’re not just slipping into ignorance; we’re diving into it headfirst, and it’s time we talk about why this matters.

It starts with a gut feeling, one I know many of you share: our society seems to be getting dumber. Not in a harmless, laugh-at-a-silly-meme way, but in a deliberate, almost orchestrated way. It’s like we’re all part of a group project where nobody’s doing the work, and we’re okay with that. We’re not just stumbling into stupidity; we’re throwing parades for it. We’re giving it TV shows, social media platforms, and a megaphone to shout its nonsense. This isn’t the fun kind of dumb, like chuckling at a video of a dog chasing its tail. This is the kind of dumb where we keep tripping over the same mistakes, then blame everyone else for our bruises. I see how this trend hits us hardest—when ignorance is celebrated, it’s the working class that pays the price.

I’ve noticed how we’re all guilty of this to some extent. I’ll admit, I’ve scrolled through my phone longer than I should, laughing at mindless content when I could’ve been reading or learning something new. But when I step back, I see a bigger problem: the moment you suggest that thinking critically or valuing knowledge might be a good thing, you’re labeled as “out of touch” or, worse, an elitist. It’s like showing up to a union meeting with a book and getting side-eyed for it. This anti-intellectualism isn’t new, but it’s woven into our culture in a way that’s hard to ignore. Decades ago, a brilliant mind pointed out that democracy doesn’t mean my ignorance is as valid as your knowledge. That idea hit me hard. It’s not about being better than anyone else; it’s about recognizing that facts matter, especially when you’re the one fixing the machines or teaching the next generation.

There was a time when we, as a nation, at least pretended to value intelligence. Scientists were heroes, writers were respected, and the person who figured out how to make life easier—like inventing sliced bread—was celebrated. I think about my parents’ generation, working-class folks who read the newspaper, discussed ideas, and took pride in knowing things. Now, if you use a word with more than a few syllables, you’re accused of being confusing or pretentious. We’ve stopped aspiring to grow smarter and instead chase whoever shouts the loudest, even if they’re dead wrong. For the working class, this is a disaster. When we devalue knowledge, we’re left with leaders and systems that exploit our labor without us even questioning it.

This isn’t just a natural decline; it’s a choice. I’ve seen it in the way we’ve let our education systems crumble, prioritizing compliance over curiosity. We’ve chosen easy over hard, comfort over challenge. Stupidity is appealing because it doesn’t demand effort. It’s like binge-watching a reality show instead of tackling a problem at work—it feels good in the moment, but it leaves you empty. I get it; after a 12-hour shift, who has the energy to read a book? But when we let critical thinking become a luxury, we’re handing over our power to those who profit from our ignorance. The working class needs to think critically to fight for fair wages, safe conditions, and a future that doesn’t leave us behind.

What’s worse is how we’ve turned critical thinking into a personal attack. If I question a policy at a union meeting or point out a flaw in a plan, I’m not trying to be a know-it-all—I’m trying to make sure we don’t get screwed over. But too often, asking questions gets you labeled as negative or divisive. We’ve created a culture where believing something loudly matters more than being right quietly. I’ve seen this in workplaces, where workers are pressured to go along with bad decisions because questioning them is seen as disloyal. This toxic positivity, where we’re expected to smile and nod no matter what, keeps us from addressing real problems, whether it’s a broken machine or a broken system.

The devaluation of knowledge is glaring. I’ve talked to coworkers who’ve spent hours on social media, convinced they know more about a topic than someone who’s studied it for years. It’s not their fault; we’ve built a world where “doing your own research” means skimming a few posts, not digging into facts. Knowledge isn’t just ignored—it’s mocked. If you know too much, you’re suspicious, like you’re part of some shady plot. This hits the working class hard. When we distrust expertise, we’re left relying on bosses and politicians who don’t have our interests at heart. We need to value knowledge, not because it makes us “better,” but because it equips us to fight for what we deserve.

So how did we get here? I think it started after World War II, when America decided comfort was king. We built suburbs, filled them with conveniences, and created schools that churned out workers, not thinkers. Questioning authority became unpatriotic, and we were taught to follow orders, not challenge them. For the working class, this meant accepting low wages and dangerous conditions because that’s just “how it is.” Then came cable news, turning complex issues into soundbites, and reality TV, which made stupidity a spectacle. I remember flipping through channels in the ‘90s, watching people throw chairs on talk shows and thinking, “This is entertainment?” But it wasn’t just entertainment—it was a cultural shift that glorified ignorance.

The internet could’ve been our salvation, giving us access to endless knowledge. Instead, it made information disposable. When everything’s a click away, nothing feels important. I’ve caught myself scrolling instead of reading, choosing feelings over facts. But the real damage is how we’ve gutted public education and turned libraries into photo ops. We’re teaching kids to pass tests, not to think. I’ve seen this in my community, where schools are underfunded, and teachers are stretched thin. The working class relies on public education to level the playing field, but when it’s designed to produce drones, not thinkers, we’re stuck in a cycle of exploitation.

The media has weaponized stupidity, too. They know outrage sells, so they put the loudest, most wrong people on camera and call it news. Social media took it further, burying the bar for discourse so low it’s underground. We’ve created a world where stupidity is fast food for the brain—cheap, quick, and deadly in the long run. I see this in the way workers are manipulated by clickbait headlines or divisive posts that pit us against each other instead of against the systems that keep us down. When we’re distracted by nonsense, we’re not organizing for better wages or safer workplaces.

Today, ignorance isn’t just accepted—it’s a badge of honor. I’ve seen people proudly share misinformation online, as if being uninformed is a personality trait. It’s marketed to us, from mugs that joke about arguing to entire brands built on dumbed-down slogans. For the working class, this is a trap. When we glorify ignorance, we’re easier to control. We’re less likely to question why our wages are stagnant or why our healthcare is a mess. We’re too busy celebrating our “freedom” to notice we’re free from consequences or accountability, too—until reality hits.

Reality doesn’t care about our feelings. You can believe whatever you want, but the world keeps turning. I’ve seen this in factories, where ignoring safety protocols leads to injuries, or in communities where refusing to face hard truths leaves us vulnerable. We’re at a point where people think they can outsmart experts because they watched a YouTube video. It’s not just silly—it’s dangerous. When we dismiss science or expertise, we’re the ones who suffer, whether it’s a preventable disease or a job lost to automation we didn’t see coming.

This ignorance isn’t one-sided. I’ve seen it across the political spectrum, from absurd ideas about controlling weather to hypocritical environmentalism that ignores the working class’s reality. Both sides have their own flavor of nonsense, and it’s tearing us apart. I think about the movie Idiocracy, which used to be a funny exaggeration. Now, it feels like a documentary. We’re not far from a world where people think energy drinks are health food or where entertainment is just chaos. It’s a wake-up call for the working class—we can’t afford to be this distracted.

Corporations love this. Ignorant people are easy to sell to. You can’t convince a critical thinker to buy overpriced nonsense, but you can sell anything to someone who doesn’t question. I’ve seen coworkers fall for scams or waste money on products that don’t work, all because they were marketed as “essential.” The working class is targeted by these schemes because we’re stretched thin, desperate for solutions, and too tired to dig deeper. When we’re kept ignorant, we’re kept powerless.

But I haven’t given up hope. There are still people out there—maybe you’re one of them—reading books, asking questions, and refusing to let curiosity die. I’ve met workers who teach themselves new skills after hours, who organize reading groups, or who challenge bad policies at work. These folks are the backbone of our future. Being smart isn’t about being flashy; it’s about being resilient. It’s about admitting when you’re wrong, embracing complexity, and staying curious even when it’s hard. For the working class, this is our strength. We’ve always been problem-solvers, fixing what’s broken with whatever we have.

Stupidity might be loud, but it’s fragile. When things fall apart—when the economy tanks, when infrastructure fails, when the system we’ve been propping up collapses—it’s the thinkers who step up. I’ve seen this in my community, where workers with practical knowledge and a willingness to learn have kept things running. The guy who’s been reading manuals while everyone else was scrolling? He’s the one with the tools when the machines break. Intelligence isn’t dead; it’s just waiting for its moment.

For the working class, valuing intelligence is about survival. It’s about knowing our rights, understanding the systems that exploit us, and building a future where we’re not just cogs in a machine. Emotional intelligence matters, too—knowing how to listen, how to work together, how to fight for each other without falling for divisive nonsense. We’re the ones who keep the lights on, and we need to be sharp to do it.

So where do we go from here? I’m not saying it’s easy. After a long day, it’s tempting to zone out instead of engage. But if we want a better future—for our kids, our communities, our class—we have to choose knowledge over comfort. We have to teach our kids to think, not just obey. We have to demand better schools, better media, and leaders who don’t treat us like idiots. Most importantly, we have to start valuing ourselves enough to believe we’re capable of more than just following orders.

I’m left with questions, and I hope you are, too. How do we rebuild a culture that respects intelligence without alienating the workers who feel left behind? How do we balance the grind of daily life with the need to stay curious? How do we teach our kids to think critically when the world rewards ignorance? And most importantly, how do we, the working class, reclaim our power by embracing knowledge as our greatest tool? What do you think—where do we start?