In Defence of Stupidity

A Manifesto

The art of stupidity is grossly underrated. In a world that worships expertise, celebrates the hyper-knowledgeable, and measures success by the length of accolades following a name, stupidity gets a bad rap. But here’s my case: being ‘stupid,’ in its raw, unadulterated form, is one of the most powerful tools you can wield—a superpower, really.

Now, before you dismiss this as contrarian nonsense or an elaborate self-own, let me explain. I’ve built an entire life philosophy around my bio, which reads: “Always trying to be the dumbest person in the room.” I’ve had my fair share of trolls seizing on this, gleefully pointing out, “Haha, you are the dumbest!” And guess what? That’s the point. If you ever find yourself as the smartest person in the room, you’re in the wrong room—you need to run, not walk, away.

Why? Because being surrounded by people who push you, who challenge your ideas, who make you feel like an amateur—that’s where the magic happens. It’s in those rooms where your curiosity is sharpened, your questions seem sillier, and your hunger for learning becomes insatiable. Stupidity, in this sense, isn’t about willful ignorance; it’s about admitting you don’t know enough and being excited to change that.

Embracing Stupidity: The Philosophical Roots

The idea that admitting your ignorance is virtuous isn’t new. Socrates, the granddaddy of all philosophers, famously said, “I know that I know nothing.” It wasn’t an act of false humility; it was an understanding that the pursuit of knowledge begins with acknowledging the gaps. In that acknowledgment lies a certain freedom—an openness to be curious, to fail spectacularly, and to keep asking questions that sound dumb.

Think of children. They don’t care if their questions make them look ‘stupid.’ Why is the sky blue? Why do we have eyebrows? What if dogs could talk? Their minds are like little sponges, absorbing everything because they’re not paralyzed by the fear of looking uninformed. But somewhere along the line, we’re taught to silence those questions, to avoid asking what might be perceived as ‘dumb,’ to maintain an illusion of knowledge.

Yet, the real game-changers, the visionaries, have always been the ones who were unafraid to look foolish. Einstein, now a synonym of genius, once said, “A person who never made a mistake never tried anything new.” His success wasn’t because he shied away from questions others would scoff at, but because he leaned into them, explored them with a childlike sense of wonder. Jony Ive, the Apple designer, embodied this approach by asking ‘dumb’ questions like, “Why does this device need buttons?” These moments of curiosity led to designs that defined a generation of technology. And where did that lead them? To breakthroughs that redefined their fields.

This Isn’t Just a Shot in the Dark

If you’re still unconvinced, let’s look at examples. Consider the Wright Brothers, Orville, and Wilbur, who pursued the 'stupid' dream of human flight. The idea that humans could fly was ridiculed, dismissed as the stuff of fantasy. Yet, their willingness to ask naive questions and endure countless failures led to the first successful powered flight, redefining transportation and human capability.

Think about Mary Anning, a self-taught fossil collector in the 19th century. Despite having no formal education, she pursued her ‘foolish’ passion for collecting fossils and asked questions that professional scientists overlooked. Her work laid the foundation for paleontology as we know it today.

Or consider Richard Feynman, the brilliant physicist (and terrible man) known for his playful approach to learning. He was unafraid to ask questions that seemed simple, even silly, which often led to groundbreaking insights. His motto, “Nobody ever figures it out,” epitomizes the power of embracing the unknown and being open to failure.

Or Tim Berners-Lee, the inventor of the World Wide Web. At the time, the idea of connecting documents through hypertext on a global scale seemed niche and unnecessary to many. But his persistent questioning and exploration of what was possible led to a tool that transformed communication and knowledge-sharing across the world. Similarly, Neri Oxman, a visionary designer merging biology and technology, asked questions others deemed impractical or absurd. Her willingness to lean into unconventional thinking led to pioneering the field of material ecology, showing that ‘stupid’ questions can lead to revolutionary outcomes.

The Fear of Looking Stupid

Here’s the thing about nonchalance: it’s overrated. We’re trained to think that playing it cool, having the ‘upper hand,’ and exuding control are signs of power. But true power comes from within, not from desperately clinging to an appearance of invulnerability. It’s easy to pretend you don’t care; it’s hard to show that you do, especially when it means you might stumble.

Embarrassment is, at its core, a social construct. It’s a learned response, rooted in our need for social acceptance and fear of exclusion. From childhood, we’re conditioned to avoid situations that could make us look ‘less than’ in the eyes of others. This conditioning creates an invisible barrier that stifles our natural curiosity and eagerness to learn. The irony is that the fear of looking stupid is itself one of the most limiting forms of ignorance—it prevents us from pursuing the very knowledge that could make us wiser, more adaptable, and more capable.

Think of the times you’ve hesitated to ask a question in a meeting or class because it seemed too basic. That hesitation is the result of internalized embarrassment—a powerful force that prioritizes your perceived status over your actual growth. And yet, the most transformative breakthroughs come when we’re willing to push through that discomfort.

Historically, many great minds and inventors faced ridicule for their ideas, but their willingness to endure embarrassment paved the way for progress. Galileo, for example, was mocked and ostracized for his support of heliocentrism, yet he persisted, knowing that seeking truth was worth the social backlash. 

Nonchalance, in contrast, is a defense mechanism that shields us from these moments of vulnerability. It’s easier to stay in the comfort zone where we never risk looking foolish. But this safety is deceptive. By choosing not to care too much, we forfeit the richness of genuine learning and growth. Embracing stupidity means acknowledging that failure, embarrassment, and mistakes are not enemies; they are allies in the pursuit of progress.

Leaning into stupidity is a radical act of courage. It’s choosing to show up, warts and all, in spaces where you’re not the expert. It’s understanding that every misstep, every poorly phrased question, and every awkward silence is a step toward mastery. It’s the realization that embarrassment is a fleeting feeling, but the knowledge gained from embracing it is lasting. When we accept that stupidity—or rather, the willingness to appear stupid—is a path to growth, we liberate ourselves from the shackles of fear and unlock a world of infinite possibility.

So, let embarrassment be just that—a momentary, inconsequential social flinch. And let your curiosity, boundless and unashamed, be what defines you. That’s where growth resides.

Making Stupidity Your Superpower

So, how do you harness the power of stupidity? Here’s a guide:

1. Ask the ‘Dumb’ Questions: When you’re in a meeting or learning something new, be the one who voices the ‘obvious’ questions that others are too cautious to ask. Whether it’s during a high-stakes pitch or a technical workshop, asking those questions can clarify not just for you but for the whole room. It’s often the simplest queries that spark the deepest conversations.

2. Admit When You Don’t Know: Be transparent about your limitations, whether in a professional setting or while trying out a new skill like coding or speaking a new language. This honesty creates a culture where it’s acceptable to be in progress, opening the door for collaboration and genuine help.

3. Find Smarter Rooms: Surround yourself with people who intimidate you with their knowledge. Join niche industry forums, participate in local meetups with experts, or enroll in advanced courses where you’re guaranteed to feel out of your depth. This discomfort will push your learning curve faster than any self-study.

4. Embrace Failure: Document your failures and analyze them—write post-mortems for your personal projects or keep a ‘failure journal’ where you log what went wrong and what you learned. This practice shifts your mindset to see mistakes as valuable data for future decisions.

5. Be Curious: Dive into topics that have nothing to do with your job or expertise. Watch documentaries on obscure subjects, try a hobby that feels ‘out there,’ or have conversations with people in professions wildly different from yours. This cross-pollination of ideas can lead to creative insights you wouldn’t otherwise have.

Final Thoughts

In defending stupidity, I’m defending something far deeper: the right to be curious, and imperfect, and to own the discomfort that comes with being a perpetual learner. Embracing the art of stupidity is not just about accepting what you don’t know—it’s about redefining how you view learning, success, and failure. It’s about shifting your mindset from one that fears mistakes to one that sees them as stepping stones toward growth.

When we make peace with appearing ‘stupid,’ we create space for unbounded creativity. We allow ourselves to explore ideas without the constraints of perceived expertise, and we foster environments where innovation can thrive. Remember, each time you resist asking a question or taking a leap because you’re afraid of looking foolish, you’re prioritizing comfort over potential.

So here’s your call to action: choose discomfort. Show up in the rooms where you don’t have all the answers. Be the person who isn’t afraid to ask the basic questions, who isn’t paralyzed by embarrassment, and who sees value in the journey of not knowing. Push past the fear of judgment and lean into curiosity. It’s not just about personal growth; it’s about setting a precedent that encourages others to do the same. When we collectively create spaces where it’s safe to be ‘stupid,’ we unlock deeper collaboration and transformative breakthroughs.

So, the next time someone calls you the dumbest person in the room, smile and own it. You’re exactly where you need to be—on the edge of something extraordinary, ready to discover, learn, and grow. And remember, in that edge lies the potential for everything you’ve yet to imagine. Be brave, be curious, and let your willingness to appear ‘stupid’ guide you.