On being an elite

Regardless of who received the most electoral votes it is pretty clear that each candidate has millions of supporters, and that they are separated by only a few percentage points. I guess one could argue that so many people being able to express their opinions is healthy. However, from my side of the divide I have difficulty understanding how so many of my fellow citizens could arrive at an opinion so diametrically opposed to my own.

Since the 2016 election I have tried to read as many articles as I could find in search of an explanation for that outcome and continuing partisan support. I have never had much interest in political science because it always sounded like an oxymoron. But I am willing to listen to anyone who claims to understand how so many other citizens can see the world so differently from the way I do. It simply may be that for whatever reason one person, in this case one man, has such charismatic power that his supporters willingly abandon the moral skeleton on which their lives had been draped. Or is this us versus them primarily a chasm between the elites and the nonelites?

I don’t know much about you but the fact that you are reading this column means that, like me, you are an elite. Even if you are a woman of color and the daughter of immigrants you have taken advantage of what opportunities you have been offered, stayed in school long enough to adopt a reverence for the scientific method, and have a job that pays well because you have acquired some expertise.

Tom Nichols, a political scientist teaching at Harvard Extension School, says that “expertise is a very exclusionary idea because it’s supposed to be: Not everybody gets a vote on how to fly the plane” (Why isn’t the right more afraid of COVID-19? by Christina Pazzanese, Harvard Gazette, Oct 30, 2020) This exclusivity may in part explain the cultural trend that has eroded faith in experts in general, but particularly around issues such as climate change. Ironically, although science continues to be held in esteem in our culture, many scientists have become targets for those citizens who wish to attack authority figures.

How is it that you and I as pediatricians have avoided those attacks and the derogatory label as “so-called experts”? We are scientists and elites. But, we have expertise in areas in which people often feel a critical need.

You may live and practice in a community where many of your patients’ families don’t share your political views. But you have probably been successful at maintaining a trusting relationship with them in large part because you have cast yourself in the role of an adviser and not a dictator. And, although at times it has been difficult, you have been careful to avoid sharing your advice in a manner that sounds condescending. You have succeeded in functioning as an expert while carefully disguising yourself as a nonelite.

However, you are skating on thin ice if you venture into topics that run counter to your patients’ religious beliefs. Theda Skocpol, professor of government and psychology at Harvard University, Cambridge, Mass., has observed that studies have shown that while religious conservatives are aware of the science and don’t reject the finding, “they resent the use of experts as political authorities.” This may explain why all across this diverse country, our patients are eager for and accepting of our advice on all manners of health-related issues until we step into a swampy area that threatens their political views – such as vaccination or gun control.

With one misstep in the wrong direction, you can go from being a compassionate adviser to an elitist “so-called expert.”
 

Dr. Wilkoff practiced primary care pediatrics in Brunswick, Maine for nearly 40 years. He has authored several books on behavioral pediatrics, including “How to Say No to Your Toddler.” Other than a Littman stethoscope he accepted as a first-year medical student in 1966, Dr. Wilkoff reports having nothing to disclose. Email him at [email protected].

Regardless of who received the most electoral votes it is pretty clear that each candidate has millions of supporters, and that they are separated by only a few percentage points. I guess one could argue that so many people being able to express their opinions is healthy. However, from my side of the divide I have difficulty understanding how so many of my fellow citizens could arrive at an opinion so diametrically opposed to my own.

Since the 2016 election I have tried to read as many articles as I could find in search of an explanation for that outcome and continuing partisan support. I have never had much interest in political science because it always sounded like an oxymoron. But I am willing to listen to anyone who claims to understand how so many other citizens can see the world so differently from the way I do. It simply may be that for whatever reason one person, in this case one man, has such charismatic power that his supporters willingly abandon the moral skeleton on which their lives had been draped. Or is this us versus them primarily a chasm between the elites and the nonelites?

I don’t know much about you but the fact that you are reading this column means that, like me, you are an elite. Even if you are a woman of color and the daughter of immigrants you have taken advantage of what opportunities you have been offered, stayed in school long enough to adopt a reverence for the scientific method, and have a job that pays well because you have acquired some expertise.

Tom Nichols, a political scientist teaching at Harvard Extension School, says that “expertise is a very exclusionary idea because it’s supposed to be: Not everybody gets a vote on how to fly the plane” (Why isn’t the right more afraid of COVID-19? by Christina Pazzanese, Harvard Gazette, Oct 30, 2020) This exclusivity may in part explain the cultural trend that has eroded faith in experts in general, but particularly around issues such as climate change. Ironically, although science continues to be held in esteem in our culture, many scientists have become targets for those citizens who wish to attack authority figures.

How is it that you and I as pediatricians have avoided those attacks and the derogatory label as “so-called experts”? We are scientists and elites. But, we have expertise in areas in which people often feel a critical need.

You may live and practice in a community where many of your patients’ families don’t share your political views. But you have probably been successful at maintaining a trusting relationship with them in large part because you have cast yourself in the role of an adviser and not a dictator. And, although at times it has been difficult, you have been careful to avoid sharing your advice in a manner that sounds condescending. You have succeeded in functioning as an expert while carefully disguising yourself as a nonelite.

However, you are skating on thin ice if you venture into topics that run counter to your patients’ religious beliefs. Theda Skocpol, professor of government and psychology at Harvard University, Cambridge, Mass., has observed that studies have shown that while religious conservatives are aware of the science and don’t reject the finding, “they resent the use of experts as political authorities.” This may explain why all across this diverse country, our patients are eager for and accepting of our advice on all manners of health-related issues until we step into a swampy area that threatens their political views – such as vaccination or gun control.

With one misstep in the wrong direction, you can go from being a compassionate adviser to an elitist “so-called expert.”
 

Dr. Wilkoff practiced primary care pediatrics in Brunswick, Maine for nearly 40 years. He has authored several books on behavioral pediatrics, including “How to Say No to Your Toddler.” Other than a Littman stethoscope he accepted as a first-year medical student in 1966, Dr. Wilkoff reports having nothing to disclose. Email him at [email protected].

Regardless of who received the most electoral votes it is pretty clear that each candidate has millions of supporters, and that they are separated by only a few percentage points. I guess one could argue that so many people being able to express their opinions is healthy. However, from my side of the divide I have difficulty understanding how so many of my fellow citizens could arrive at an opinion so diametrically opposed to my own.

Since the 2016 election I have tried to read as many articles as I could find in search of an explanation for that outcome and continuing partisan support. I have never had much interest in political science because it always sounded like an oxymoron. But I am willing to listen to anyone who claims to understand how so many other citizens can see the world so differently from the way I do. It simply may be that for whatever reason one person, in this case one man, has such charismatic power that his supporters willingly abandon the moral skeleton on which their lives had been draped. Or is this us versus them primarily a chasm between the elites and the nonelites?

I don’t know much about you but the fact that you are reading this column means that, like me, you are an elite. Even if you are a woman of color and the daughter of immigrants you have taken advantage of what opportunities you have been offered, stayed in school long enough to adopt a reverence for the scientific method, and have a job that pays well because you have acquired some expertise.

Tom Nichols, a political scientist teaching at Harvard Extension School, says that “expertise is a very exclusionary idea because it’s supposed to be: Not everybody gets a vote on how to fly the plane” (Why isn’t the right more afraid of COVID-19? by Christina Pazzanese, Harvard Gazette, Oct 30, 2020) This exclusivity may in part explain the cultural trend that has eroded faith in experts in general, but particularly around issues such as climate change. Ironically, although science continues to be held in esteem in our culture, many scientists have become targets for those citizens who wish to attack authority figures.

How is it that you and I as pediatricians have avoided those attacks and the derogatory label as “so-called experts”? We are scientists and elites. But, we have expertise in areas in which people often feel a critical need.

You may live and practice in a community where many of your patients’ families don’t share your political views. But you have probably been successful at maintaining a trusting relationship with them in large part because you have cast yourself in the role of an adviser and not a dictator. And, although at times it has been difficult, you have been careful to avoid sharing your advice in a manner that sounds condescending. You have succeeded in functioning as an expert while carefully disguising yourself as a nonelite.

However, you are skating on thin ice if you venture into topics that run counter to your patients’ religious beliefs. Theda Skocpol, professor of government and psychology at Harvard University, Cambridge, Mass., has observed that studies have shown that while religious conservatives are aware of the science and don’t reject the finding, “they resent the use of experts as political authorities.” This may explain why all across this diverse country, our patients are eager for and accepting of our advice on all manners of health-related issues until we step into a swampy area that threatens their political views – such as vaccination or gun control.

With one misstep in the wrong direction, you can go from being a compassionate adviser to an elitist “so-called expert.”
 

Dr. Wilkoff practiced primary care pediatrics in Brunswick, Maine for nearly 40 years. He has authored several books on behavioral pediatrics, including “How to Say No to Your Toddler.” Other than a Littman stethoscope he accepted as a first-year medical student in 1966, Dr. Wilkoff reports having nothing to disclose. Email him at [email protected].