When you take a relative to the emergency room, you trust that the person with a medical degree will have a better grasp of physiology, ailments and treatments than you do. No sane person expects a doctor to sit down and explain biochemistry before treatment.

Because appeals to authority and credentials are part of the social contract.

The populist right seems to have learned many of the wrong lessons from the COVID-era cratering of trust in experts and authority.

Instead of demanding more accountability from experts, populists are filling the credibility void with charlatans and cranks who do little more than assuage their confirmation bias.

Anthony Fauci, the former director of the National Institute of Allergy and Infectious Diseases, wasn’t merely aggressively inaccurate about the COVID pandemic; he also championed authoritarian policies that inflicted untold damage on the country, decimating public trust in institutions.

But Fauci’s actions aren’t a stain on “expertise” as much as another instance of a leader abusing his power.

Discarding decades of accrued public health knowledge because Fauci acted poorly is like rejecting moral truths because your priest acted immorally.

Indeed, turning to Robert F. Kennedy Jr. to lead the country’s health policy is like turning back to Baalism because your rabbi skimmed from the till.

Expertise is real, but it is not holy writ, which is why we should stop expecting people with specialized knowledge to be imbued with seer-like abilities.

Economists are often wrong in predicting unemployment rates or GDP growth because an economy entails millions of people making hundreds of millions of decisions every day.

That doesn’t mean they’re wrong about comparative advantage, moral hazard or supply and demand.

On the flip side, a correct prediction doesn’t automatically make you an expert, either.

There are public figures who prophesize market crashes and pandemics every year. Sooner or later, they’re going to be “right.”

But much of populist aggrievement about experts and elites is based on aesthetics and tone.

When Douglas Murray, who spent years reporting and writing on the Middle East, appeared on Joe Rogan’s popular podcast debating a comedian about the Israel-Hamas war last week, pundits complained about his haughty tone and appeals to authority. 

Imagine, if you can, the subject matter you know best, the thing that you’ve spent years, perhaps decades, considering, experiencing and mastering.

Now, imagine a stranger who has spent about five minutes contemplating the same topic walking into your place of work and declaring that everything you know is false.

He answers to no one. He isn’t obligated to cite research or build on a tradition of knowledge.

The more outlandish and transgressive he is, in fact, the more popular he becomes. He makes a living on sophistry and emotional appeals and dunks.

You, on the other hand, don’t have the luxury of making things up on the fly because you answer to a boss and colleagues and have a reputation that is built on experience.

This is what probably exasperated Murray.

Sure, it’s bad form to be dismissive of others simply because they lack the same experience or knowledge — but it makes complete sense to be dismissive of someone with a superficial understanding of a topic who acts like he or she knows more than you.

We are sliding into relativism. The inclination to upend the status quo and break things leads people to oppose reactively whatever “elites” have ever said.

This is just self-destructive.

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