Do you have no formal education and feel stupid?
Ask when you don’t understand was my message in January 2011. I’d often felt stupid among well-educated people when I didn’t know a word or couldn’t follow the meaning of an explanation.
Ask when you don’t understand a word or a sentence
I used to nod and pretend I understood. Gradually, I found more courage to ask people to explain what they meant.
I found that others in the room sometimes hadn’t understood the answer either. Simpler wording could make the conversation more useful for all of us.
Fancy words weren’t always a clear explanation
I talked about my earlier work at Frederiksberg police station. Some letters were so hard to understand that recipients had to call and ask what they meant.
For me, it showed the value of writing concretely. The recipient needed to be able to see what had happened and what the message was about.
The story I retold about the origins of bureaucratic language was something I admitted I didn’t remember precisely. It isn’t a verified historical explanation.
You could ask politely
I suggested saying you didn’t understand a particular word or the meaning of a sentence without turning the question into a provocation.
I felt education and practical experience could provide different strengths. Not knowing a technical term didn’t, in itself, make someone stupid.
It worked the other way too: If I didn’t know the answer, I could say so and get back to them. The video’s forceful percentages and statements about others’ motives are my rhetoric and experiences from 2011, not measurements of what people know.
Also read about communicating clearly to an audience.
I felt academically stupid
I’m no great academic. I don’t think that surprises anyone. But growing up and later in life, it actually gave me something of an inferiority complex.
When I sat with well-educated people, they could use unfamiliar words I didn’t know. Other times, I knew the words but couldn’t make sense of them together. I’d sit there thinking: Am I the stupid one?
The same happened when I watched a political debate. A journalist asked a specific question, and the politician said something I couldn’t understand. I couldn’t really see that it answered the question either.
I felt that way in several areas until my early thirties. When I made this video in January 2011, I felt I’d become wiser about it over the previous ten years.
Jubii gave me the courage to ask
I can’t remember the exact day it changed. But I think it had to do with gaining confidence because Jubii and the other things I was doing were going well.
I decided I would no longer just nod and pretend. If I didn’t understand something, I’d ask. Then I’d have to learn the difficult word or get an explanation of what the person meant.
And then something happened that felt magical: Often, others in the room didn’t understand either. Even people I’d thought of as academics and terribly clever could say: I didn’t bloody catch that either.
In the video, I use the very forceful phrase "99 times out of 100". That’s my way of describing the experience, not a tally. But discovering that my uncertainty didn’t necessarily mean everyone else had understood something I couldn’t made a big difference to me.
I also found that sometimes a person struggled to explain their own fancy words. It made me think it could be empty talk covering up the fact that they weren’t entirely on top of the subject either.
The letters from Frederiksberg police station
When I was younger, I worked at Frederiksberg police station. We sent letters to people, and I could sit there sending something I didn’t properly understand myself.
My example in the video is an alcoholic who’s peed against a tree late one evening and been spotted by a police patrol. Why not write concretely what happened, which rule it involved and what the consequence was?
I imagine a simple message: You’ve peed against a tree. That’s not allowed. So you’re getting a fine. In my spoken explanation, I mention 400 kroner as an example; it’s not information about the current fine.
The recipient might disagree but would at least understand the message. Instead, words like "pee" were replaced with "urinate", and the simple thing was wrapped in lots of difficult language. I can no longer reproduce the letters’ exact wording, but I remember the problem.
Then people called afterwards to ask what they’d done. Now we had to spend time explaining what the letter should have explained from the start. That puzzled me.
The story about bureaucratic language and power
Back then, I was told a story about bureaucratic language. In the video, I also say I neither remember it completely nor know Danish history well.
As I remembered the account, the king had at some point passed some power to the lords. They used a particular language among themselves that the peasants didn’t understand. That could make them seem more learned and leave others feeling unsure.
I loosely mention the 1500s and 1600s and several hundred years of survival in official letters. That’s the story I retold from memory, not something I’d researched and could document.
What I wanted to use the story for was my point about the power of language. A fancy word can make me feel inferior, even though an ordinary word could say the same thing. I find difficult language can also be used to dominate or hide a lack of understanding. That’s my interpretation of situations I’ve encountered.
More years at school don’t make your experiences worth less
Just because someone else spent ten more years in education doesn’t mean they’re smarter than you in every area.
Of course, educated people may have learnt methods and things others haven’t. We need them. I also cheekily tease that we need clever academics as employees, but my point isn’t that education is worthless.
While one person was at school, another may have been out working and experiencing life differently. That practical experience can provide abilities the highly schooled person doesn’t have.
You’ve learnt something different. That doesn’t make you stupid. It matters to me that we don’t equate an unfamiliar technical term with a lack of ability. Also read Skab din egen succes about finding your own way and believing in what you can do.
Ask when you don’t understand, and do it politely
If you’re with someone who uses fancy words, ask. Don’t make it provocative. Do it politely: Sorry, I simply don’t understand that word. Or: I don’t understand the meaning of that sentence. Could you explain it?
Perhaps they can put it another way, and you’ll think: Oh, was that all? Perhaps it turns out there wasn’t much substance behind the words. Both are more useful than pretending you’ve understood.
The same applies when politicians get questions. I don’t think one person can know everything about a huge field. In the video, I mention an environment minister and thousands of European environmental laws as a hypothetical example. That’s my illustration of how extensive a field can be, not a precise count of the laws.
I’d find it more credible to hear: I simply don’t know enough about that; I’ll have to get back to you. But I sometimes find there’s empty talk and difficult words instead, making the viewer unsure of their own understanding.
It’s also fine not to know the answer
This matters a lot to me. If there’s something you don’t understand, ask. Others may well not have understood either.
I think asking shows strength and personal integrity. It shows you’re actually interested in what’s being said.
And if I’m asked about something I don’t know, there’s no shame in saying so. I can ask to get back to them once I’ve asked around and thought about it. That’s far better than pretending I know everything.
Best wishes, Martin
"For hver gang en forfatter har taget stilling i en omstridt sag som følge af blind lettroendhed, er han tilbøjelig til med de mest subtile argumenter at tvinge os til til at accepterer sin konklusion. Når de derimod er så heldige at støde på noget sikkert og evident, så fremstiller de det altid med allehånde omsvøb, utvivlsomt fordi de frygter, at argumentationens simpelhed forringer betydningen af, hvad de de har opdaget."
René Descartes