Education makes us more stupid than the brutes. A thousand voices

The words of Jean Giraudoux—“Education makes us more stupid than the brutes. A thousand voices call to us on every hand, but our ears are stopped with wisdom.”—are a paradox, sharp as a sword, and meant to pierce the complacency of the learned. At first, they seem a rebuke of knowledge itself, yet in truth they are a warning against the arrogance that sometimes comes with it. Giraudoux, a French writer and diplomat of the early twentieth century, lived in an age when nations, proud of their intellect and science, marched into wars of unspeakable destruction. His words stand as a lament: that education, when severed from humility and heart, blinds rather than illuminates.

To say that education makes us more stupid than the brutes is not to despise learning, but to caution against its misuse. The brute, the animal, follows the call of nature, responding to hunger, danger, or the instincts of survival. But humans, swollen with pride in their learning, may ignore the most basic truths of existence. They invent reasons to destroy one another, cloak cruelty in philosophy, and justify greed with cunning arguments. Thus, while animals live by simple wisdom, humans may become deaf to life’s most urgent voices, their ears clogged with what they call “knowledge.”

When Giraudoux speaks of a thousand voices calling to us, he means the voices of truth, of conscience, of the world itself—the cries of the poor, the songs of nature, the warnings of history. Yet, he says, our ears are stopped with wisdom—with doctrines, theories, and pride that masquerade as truth. In our eagerness to appear wise, we lose the ability to truly listen. This is the danger of education without humility: it breeds deafness of the soul, where cleverness is mistaken for wisdom, and arrogance for insight.

History gives us a tragic illustration. Consider the early twentieth century in Europe, where some of the most educated societies—nations of scientists, philosophers, and artists—descended into the madness of the First World War. Leaders invoked reason, strategy, and national interest, but the result was slaughter on a scale that shocked the world. Their education had not saved them; it had only armed them with more elaborate justifications for folly. Meanwhile, the “brutes”—the simple soldiers in the trenches—often displayed greater humanity in their fleeting moments of compassion across enemy lines than the so-called wise statesmen who sent them there.

Yet let us not despair, for the quote is not a curse upon knowledge itself, but a reminder of what knowledge must be joined with: humility, compassion, and the openness to listen. True wisdom is not the stuffing of facts into the mind, but the ability to discern what matters, to hear the thousand voices and respond with justice and mercy. Knowledge puffs up, but wisdom bows low. It is not wrong to learn, but dangerous to believe learning alone is enough.

The lesson for us is clear: guard yourselves against the pride of being “educated.” Do not imagine that a degree, a title, or mastery of words makes you wiser than the humble or the poor. Instead, train your ears to hear the voices beyond books—the cry of the suffering, the lessons of the earth, the silent whisper of conscience. Knowledge must serve life, not obscure it.

So, O seeker, what actions must you take? First, approach learning with reverence, not pride. Second, cultivate listening: to people, to nature, to your own heart. Third, remember that wisdom is proven not by clever words but by just deeds. Let your education be a tool to lift others, not a veil that blinds you to their needs. For only then will knowledge become light rather than shadow, and wisdom become a river that nourishes all.

Thus, the paradox of Giraudoux becomes clear: education can make us deaf, but humility can make us wise. Let us then learn, but never cease to listen. Let us study, but never stop hearing the voices that cry out around us. For in hearing truly, and responding justly, we transcend the brutes not by pride, but by compassion, and become fully human.