The War on Knowledge
A Dorm Room Dialogue
It’s a very cold November night at Harvard. The last few days have dumped two feet of snow in Cambridge. The stars appear in the sky with sparks of inspiration, the temperature plummets. The campus is alive with confidence and tradition, caffeinated students wrestling with everything from metaphysics to midterms. In one corner of a dorm room lit only by a desk lamp and the glow of laptops, Claire and Noah, two first-year philosophy students, are in the midst of one of their “thought partnering” sessions. Books and mugs are scattered around them, the room a homage to their intellectual chaos.
Perched on her bed, Claire is wearing a vibrant red lipstick that matches her often bold, animated demeanor. She’s the kind of person who punctuates her arguments with sharp gestures, the polish on her nails glinting under the desk lamp. Across from her, Noah leans back in his chair, a thoughtful crease on his forehead. His well-fitted polo shirt—a shade of navy that feels like his uniform—complements his quieter, more deliberate energy.
Claire: (gesturing with her mug) You know, I’ve been thinking about that phrase from the elections: “drain the swamp.” It’s not just about politics; it’s about rejecting expertise altogether.
Claire smiles knowing this topic could get them going. Noah looks up from his laptop, where he’s been half-heartedly outlining a paper on epistemology. His face lights up—not from his screen, but from the opportunity to engage in one of their marathon discussions.
Noah: Right, like Trump’s entire cabinet is designed to mock the idea of expertise. Robert Kennedy Jr running Health and Human Services. He’s against pharmaceuticals and vaccines, for gosh sakes. Are we going to see life expectancy go back to fifty years old like it was a hundred years ago? Or Kash Patel to lead the FBI which he doesn’t even believe in. Remember Scott Pruitt running the EPA while denying climate change? That’s not draining the swamp—that’s dumping toxic waste into it.
Claire: And it worked. Millions of voters see it and think, “Finally, someone who gets me.” It’s not just anti-intellectualism—it’s this deep distrust of institutions.
She leans forward suddenly, her voice softening.
Claire: Btw, you know I’m from Nebraska. I hate when people act like the whole middle of the country doesn’t seek knowledge or respect institutions. Like, take a soybean farmer from Iowa or a cattle rancher from Wyoming. Farming and ranching require lots of knowledge—about land, about animals, about markets. It’s just a different kind of expertise, you know?
Noah nods, rubbing his chin thoughtfully, seeing how Claire just flipped to the other side of the argument. But he agreed.
Noah: That’s true. It’s more of an embodied knowledge—hands-on, generational. It’s about survival and stewardship, not theories or abstractions. I think the issue is that these different kinds of knowledge don’t always translate.
Claire: (snapping her fingers) Yes! The institutions that produce academic or scientific knowledge can feel distant, even dismissive, to people whose knowledge is more practical. That’s why they don’t trust them. It’s like two groups speaking different languages.
Noah: (leans forward, his tone earnest) And the distrust goes both ways. People in cities think rural voters are backward or anti-science, and rural voters think urbanites are snobs who don’t understand their lives. Perhaps both sides are just protecting their own forms of knowledge. It’s not a culture war, it’s a knowledge war—to use the metaphor pushed by Republicans. I’m not a fan of using “war” to discuss the advancement of knowledge.
Claire was gesturing emphatically, nearly spilling her coffee, and waiting for him to stop talking so she could agree.
Claire: Right! The soybean farmer doesn’t need a climate scientist telling them the weather’s changing—they see it in their crops. They just don’t trust the solutions being offered, because those come with regulations that could ruin their livelihood. War on knowledge. I like it!
Noah smiles, flushing slightly in the dim light.
Noah: You’re making me think we should be majoring in anthropology instead of philosophy.
Claire: (laughing) Please. Philosophy is anthropology—just with more dead Greeks.
Their laughter breaks the tension, but the weight of the conversation lingers. Noah leans back in the crumbling chair, his fingers tapping a rhythm on the cover of a philosophy textbook. In pauses like this, Claire waits for Noah to get her going again.
Noah: Distrust isn’t new. The American experiment was built on skepticism of centralized authority. Jefferson, Madison—they wanted checks and balances for a reason. But this feels different. This is about rejecting reality itself.
Claire: Exactly. It’s like we’ve stopped agreeing on what’s real. And institutions—universities, media, government—they were supposed to be the referees. Now they’re just part of the fight.
Noah glances at the celling, as he often does when a topic really grabs him.
Noah: No, I agree. The Left and the Right are both guilty. On the Left, people attack institutions as tools of systemic oppression. On the Right, populists frame them as elitist conspiracies. At the same time there’s this big push back against individualism, such as the YouTuber Jordan Peterson using religion to argue against individual freedoms like for transgenders or gays.
Claire: This guy is a fake. A charlatan!
Noah paused lest he get out ahead of himself taking on the Right’s new Prophet Peterson.
Noah: I would say it’s not that we shouldn’t trust the individual—it’s that now no one is trusting each other.
Claire nods, picking up the thread.
Claire: Yes, because it’s the individual who ultimately has to perceive reality. This has totally been in my thoughts lately. Institutions can guide us, but they can’t actually “see” for us.
Noah turns to face her directly, a skeptical look on his face.
Noah: That sounds dangerously Cartesian. You’re not about to tell me my senses deceive me, are you?
Claire: (laughs) Not exactly. I’m saying knowledge isn’t just “justified true belief.” It’s also about perception. It’s your relationship to reality. And that’s where politics gets messy. People feel like their perceptions are being dismissed.
The room falls silent for a moment. Out in the hallway, muffled laughter from passing students reminds them of the world beyond their debate. Noah breaks the silence.
Noah: That explains the populist appeal. Trump didn’t just dismiss expertise; he elevated everyday perception as its own kind of truth or knowledge. He assures folks their gut feelings are just as valid as expert opinions.
Claire: (rolling her eyes) Ugh, “gut instinct” as policy. That’s dangerous. We know his relationship to truth. And reality doesn’t care about your gut. Climate change is happening whether you believe in it or not.
Noah: But the institutions telling us that—academia, the media—they aren’t infallible. They’ve been slow, biased, or just plain wrong before. Trump exploits that. He points to their flaws and says, “See? They’re lying to you.”
Claire leans forward, resting her elbows on her knees. Her tone is more measured now.
Claire: And what did he offer instead? Himself? He didn’t replace flawed expertise with better expertise. These new cabinet picks are about replacing expertise with loyalty. What he’s got is charisma—at least that’s what all his male lovers call it!
Noah: Haha. So where does that leave us? If institutions are flawed and individuals are unreliable, who defines truth?
Claire picked up her lip stained coffee mug, swirling the remnants absentmindedly. She didn’t know Noah was thinking how he really respected her brilliant mind.
Claire: Maybe no one does. Maybe reality itself is the ultimate authority.
Noah lets out a slight whistle with his sigh, collapsing back into his chair.
Noah: That’s unsettling. Institutions help us navigate reality. Without them, we’re stuck.
Claire: Sure, but they have to earn trust, not assume it. Transparency and accountability—that’s the way forward.
Noah: And individuals have to put in the work. Perceiving reality isn’t passive. It takes education and critical thinking. Otherwise, you’re just outsourcing your brain.
Claire: Exactly. The real battle isn’t Left versus Right. It’s between engaging with reality or escaping it.
The air in the room feels heavier now. After a moment, Claire smirks.
Claire: So, we’re not just in a war on knowledge. We’re in a war on reality itself. Haha!
Noah: (grinning) That sounds like a title for my paper!
Claire: You write it. I’ll edit and footnote Nietzsche and make it incomprehensibly elite.
They both laugh, their voices cutting through the late-night quiet. Outside, the world moves on, unaware of the intellectual battles being waged in a cramped dorm room.