An argument for an intellectual class (pt the first)

This is a piece I've been thinking about for a really, really, really, exceptionally long time, but never actually sit down to write.  Partially, it feels like such an elitist thing to argue for, and I'm so very not comfortable with coming across that way.  So any time I try to write it, I spend a few pages defending my non-elite status, and by that point I'm too damned tired and frustrated to write a coherent piece.

Not that I'm saying this first real attempt will be coherent.  But it's an attempt, at least.

There's also the fact that it's such a complicated topic, it should be (and nearly was already) a chapter in a much, much larger piece that, hopefully, I'll write someday.

So here goes:

The case for an intellectual class is really just a plea to value the members of society who are not specialists--those who can fit into virtually any situation, understand what's going on, what the problems are, and what fixing those problems might take, long and short term.  These folks may have bizarre resumes, reflecting a variety of jobs for which they are entirely overqualified and technically underqualified for.  This variety might make them seem flighty.  They might not have graduated from college, or they might have a crazy assortment of degrees that add up to no clear educational direction.

They are, in short, easily dismissible.

Part of this is because our society has become massively specialized--the only valuable skills are those that are easily qualified.  We teach schoolchildren to take tests, not to think critically. Colleges are in the slow, yet inevitable, process of turning into nothing more than glorified vocational training, while outside of pure academia, more and more students (and workers) are choosing actual vocational schools that promise to teach to a career or specific type of job.  The world has evolved to a point where specific, specialized skills are all that matter: you are an RN, a CNA, an HVACR repair person, an administrator, an MBA, &c, &c, &c....

Now, I'm not going to sit here and try to argue that I don't want they guy who comes to repair the AC in the middle of August to know what he's doing.  Trust.  I do.  Very much.  Want him to know.  But when the majority of people are skilled at one particular thing, and are, perhaps more importantly, trained for the job as it currently exists, something scary and bad happens.  You a) have a job market that is flooded with people who have been completely indoctrinated to look at things in a particular way and b) you lose a vital component of that job market that is able to walk into virtually any situation and create success there.

All of this adds up to a kind of terrifying scenario, where the only education that is valuable is that which is necessary for employment, where all intellectual and academic inquiry is judged only for its marketable traits. Thus begins a cycle: the society reflects these values in its educational system, the employees it chooses to retain, the people it views as unemployable, and in doing so, reinforces the fundamental belief that the only valuable skills are those which fit neatly into a job description.  It's a nice, tight little spiral, and the beauty of it is that once the value of those who can--and will--really think outside of the proverbial box has disappeared, there will be no way out of that particular thought tunnel* for a long, long time.

The intellectual class constantly evaluates, for better or worse.  It is the voice pushing us along, or cautioning us against moving too fast (a topic for another day, don't worry).  It expresses that which it would be easier not to hear, and helps us to sort through the mess that arises when we finally listen.  We need these people.  It's time to dig out the resumes that didn't make any sense, to ask the disgruntled guy in accounting why he's so pissed off all the time, to have a serious conversation with that bitch in purchasing and find out what's got her so frustrated.  I can guarantee, they've been watching, waiting for someone to ask them.

You might be surprised at the answers they have.  You might be blown away by the problems they see.  There is no shame in finding solutions in unexpected places. The shame comes from being too afraid to look.

(Love you, mom.)



*See also: Fleck's denkkollektiv (thought collective); Kuhn's paradigm and paradigm shift; Timothy Leary's reality tunnel, and, of course, Robert Anton Wilson's thought tunnel.  Among others.