If there has been any change to my character during my college life, it has been the gradual shift from arrogance to humility. Like many underclassmen, I went through a phase where I believed I was superior to everybody else in the realm of intellect. Part of this was spurred on by a particular disposition towards Ayn Rand’s objectivism and part was spurred on by a mission to prove to everyone the extent of my abilities.

As I’ve advanced in my college years, my friends and family have — to use a colloquial phrase — “put me in my place.” The one lingering taint that I might never get rid of now, though, is the label of “arrogance.” My scarlet letter, formed from past grievances, casts a shadow over my attempts to be well meaning. But if there is one contention left to make here, it is that there truly is a difference between confidence in what you say and pure arrogance. Though they are so closely intertwined, they are quite different and affect a person’s actions in their own ways.

There are and always will be intellectual elitists out there who feel the perpetual need to correct others because they believe they, being infinitely smarter, have been granted the special privilege to do so. I know this because I was one of them. But the real challenge set before those who strive for intellectualism is to unwind the principles of the learning from elitism.

In this sense, the sect of elitists, who take pride in the pursuit of knowledge, must do away with the superiority complex and the exclusivity of their cause. People are all smart in their own way, and they contribute in what ways they can to the great journey of humankind.

What has fortified my modesty and dissolved my arrogance are my peers. For instance, my two best friends are what I refer to as “farmer boys.” The name is deceiving — it seems to suggest they are “dumb” or out of touch with modern reality. Not true. In fact, I’ve learned more from these two honorable men than I could ever learn in one of my books. They certainly aren’t up all night reading Kurt Vonnegut with me — unless I’m mistaken — but they possess an ineffable knowledge entirely of their own. They serve as a constant reminder of the potency of simplicity.

This renders the very idea of “intellectualism” moot. What qualifies one to be an “intellect,” after all? What is “intellect?”

If the intellectual elitists can begin to realize that ambiguity, the walls of exclusivity will fall and arrogance will be exposed for what it is. It is the role of belittled and patronized individuals to fight back and highlight the condescension. One should also avoid befriending those who think they are superior to others. At first, these “superior” individuals will claim to be better off without you. Don’t worry: They’ll learn soon enough when their pool of friends has evaporated.

There is a place, though, for those people who wish to engage in intelligent conversation. Across campus, pockets of isolated groups form to participate in the journey of knowledge seeking. That is certainly not elitist exclusivity but is instead the sharing of ideas. A great example of that idealistic social construct would be the Solvay Convention, where some of the greatest minds, such as Albert Einstein, Niels Bohr and Marie Curie, gathered to discuss physics.

Now, it is certainly difficult to be inclusive of others when you are attending something as prestigious as the Solvay Convention, but taken on a humbler stage, the principle still stands. For instance, there were times when I would be engaging in a discussion about political theory with one of my “intellectual” friends, and a person who I had regarded as “dumb” — whatever the measure of that word is — completely surprised me with simple yet eloquent responses.

I guess what I am trying to say is, intelligent conversation can exist without the exclusivity and elitism. In fact, its existence depends on humility and openness. After all, it is so much more relaxing to admit your own ignorance rather than putting on the facade of the “know-it-all.” The great weakness of arrogance is that it ingrains the idea that one is a genius, and as it has happened to me so many times before, it leaves one vulnerable.

There is one more thing to be said. The people who truly are geniuses and possess great humility deserve to be applauded by their peers. Not too much applause, though. The great struggle for recognition and immortality in the world brings out the best in people. That is how we advance the frontiers of knowledge.