Never underestimate the intelligence of the audience; make good

The words of Armando Iannucci, the satirist, the craftsman of wit and insight, ring like a challenge to all creators and leaders: “Never underestimate the intelligence of the audience; make good programmes, and they will come.” In these few words lies both faith and rebuke — faith in the discernment of the people, and rebuke toward those who pander to the lowest common taste. Iannucci speaks not merely to writers and artists, but to all who shape thought, truth, and culture. His message is timeless: respect the intelligence of others, and they will rise to meet you. Speak with depth and honesty, and minds will awaken. Treat people as fools, and fools you shall breed.

The origin of this saying comes from Iannucci’s long journey through the world of comedy and storytelling — from The Thick of It to Veep, from satire to soul. He had seen the tendency of those in power — whether broadcasters, politicians, or producers — to assume that people crave only simplicity, spectacle, or noise. But Iannucci, with the courage of a thinker and the heart of an artist, defied that cynicism. He knew that beneath the surface of the ordinary viewer lies a mind hungry for truth, a spirit yearning for meaning, and an ear tuned to sincerity. Thus, his words became a declaration of artistic integrity: if you create with honesty and excellence, the audience will find you — for intelligence calls to intelligence.

To underestimate the audience is to insult the soul of humanity. Throughout history, those who have dared to trust in the wisdom of the people have changed the course of civilization. Think of Socrates, who stood before the youth of Athens not to flatter them with easy answers, but to challenge them with questions that pierced the heart. Many dismissed his teachings as dangerous, too complex for the masses — yet his words outlived empires. Or recall Shakespeare, who wrote for kings and commoners alike, blending poetry with humanity so profound that four centuries later, his audience still gathers in every corner of the earth. He trusted that people could grasp the depths of tragedy, the weight of irony, the beauty of truth — and they did. These masters understood what Iannucci reminds us: that the public mind is not a vessel of ignorance, but a field ready to bear fruit if only the seed is worthy.

There is a great arrogance in thinking that simplicity must mean stupidity. True simplicity is born of mastery — the kind that distills truth without diluting it. When creators — be they writers, teachers, or leaders — begin to fear the intelligence of their listeners, they trade depth for distraction, art for noise. Yet history has shown that when the people are spoken to with respect, they rise. When offered substance, they hunger for more. When given truth, they discern its light even through the fog of confusion. To underestimate your audience is to underestimate humanity itself — and that is the first step toward decay, in art and in society alike.

Consider the story of The Beatles, four young men who refused to remain confined to the formula of popular music. When others urged them to stay simple, they evolved — weaving complex melodies, poetic lyrics, and daring experiments into their art. Many warned that the audience would not understand. Yet the world followed them, hungry for their vision. Why? Because they respected their listeners enough to grow. They believed, as Iannucci believes, that people would rise to meet greatness, if only greatness was offered. In trusting the intelligence of their audience, they awakened it — and in doing so, they changed the language of music forever.

The lesson here is not only for artists, but for all who speak, teach, or lead. Whether you are addressing one or many, never assume the dullness of those who listen. Every heart holds curiosity; every mind holds the spark of reason. Speak with depth, act with sincerity, and trust that people will recognize truth when they see it. It may not happen instantly, for wisdom is not loud, but in time, the thoughtful will come — drawn not by spectacle, but by the resonance of meaning. In the same way that water finds its level, truth finds its audience.

So, O creator of words, of deeds, of dreams — do not descend to flatter ignorance, but ascend to awaken it. Make your work worthy of the intelligence you hope to inspire. As Iannucci teaches, create with faith in your fellow beings — for intelligence is not a gift to a few, but the shared inheritance of all who seek to understand. The crowd may seem distracted, but beneath its surface runs a river of perception, waiting to be stirred by authenticity. Offer it depth, and it will drink deeply. Offer it truth, and it will follow you through the ages. For the minds of men, like the stars of heaven, shine brightest when they are trusted to see.