Intellectuals Really Get Under My Skin

Actually now that I sit down to write my post, I am at a loss - the title really says it all. But I guess I should finish what I started. And as a disclaimer, I am not talking about EVERY intellectual, but am making a cynical observation about SOME intellectuals.

How can I explain myself? Some would say that I am an intellectual - I am, after all, university educated. That in itself is sort of weird- people throw around the term "university educated" with a sort of stuffy smugness, like they belong to a great club that excludes all that have never set foot in an institution's hallowed halls. What meaning does a university education hold anyways? I am by no means devaluing education, but I have to ask at the end of my BA, what significant changes has my education created in me? What has it set me up to do? Am I 'smarter' than before? Am I better off?

Yesterday I went to a free lecture by a much-celebrated writer on political and economic matters. Sitting, waiting for the lecture to begin, I heard some older men in suits talking about the lecturer. "Blah blah blah intellectually, blah blah success..." And then the customary congratulatory handshakes and knowing smiles all around. "We're intellectuals. We're in the inner circle. We know where it's at." I can't help but shake the feeling that a lot of intellectuals have put so much time and effort into studying what they hope and believe to be true, that they are sometimes closed to the exploration of new ideas. Or to the idea that information from non-intellectual sources...or people... is of value.

Do you ever get the impression that intellectuals talk just to sound smart? Just to exercise their 24k vocabulary? Just to be able to flash their credentials? The funny thing about knowledge is that as long as one masters a certain arm or realm of it, seems to allow people to completely ignore other parts - like a body working without an arm or a leg. I imagine a vast system of blood vessels - for example, an economist ignoring the environment would be like like a brain not receiving blood from a major artery (a scientist I'm not).

Finally, my last beef I will throw out about intellectuals is their tendency to impose knowledge from above. Like the economist I heard last year speak about transferring the control of multinational corporations in Brazil to Brazilian. That way, the people would still be exploited but at least they would be being exploited by Brazilian. I'm not saying that people should not be involved in the administration or policies of governments or groups of countries other than their own. I just can't imagine claiming to know what best benefits a group of people to which I don't belong. Perhaps this will be the downfall of Western Civilization - the fact that we are filled with people who think they know what's best for the rest of the world. Regardless of intentions, this does not seem like the path of a people who will survive indeterminately.

Here In My Car

Driving back to the 'burbs from Vancouver on a sunny Wednesday afternoon - two pm-ish- I had to ask myself, where did all these people on the road come from? Windows rolled up, AC cranked no doubt, the solo drivers cruised in a mock-rush hour, a fooler, a teaser prepping us all for the real thing. I know that I'm unemployed, but why aren't the rest of the people on the road at work? Do that many people work odd hours these days? Are that many people unemployed?

Which brings me to my next point - I need to get out of the city. Cities never sleep. Cliche, but true, I think. Cities never rest. Cities breath and pulse to their own rhythm... a rhythm that never ceases to leave me feel like I'm floundering in a sea, moments before going under. Vast distances and times spent tangled up in traffic, behind an exhaust hose, floating through the city-haze.

At the same time, I feel a sort of centredness when I'm in the city centre. Surrounded by tall, shiny buildings, sometimes I just like to walk around, watching people go by, watching construction crews, busses, and cars. I feel the swirl of other peoples' lives, and the tug of the city's undertow at my feet. I feel dangerous. Like I'm standing on the edge of a life that I could have, like I could jump in now and end it all. Or I could turn around and head away...