Review of The Death of Expertise

In an era where a YouTube video can seemingly outweigh a peer-reviewed study and everyone’s opinion is granted equal gravitas, Tom Nichols’ The Death of Expertise: The Campaign Against Established Knowledge and Why It Matters emerges as a trenchant, exasperated, and crucial polemic. First published in 2017, the book has only grown more relevant, serving as a field guide to the modern landscape of intellectual anarchy. Nichols, a professor and national security expert, articulates a central, terrifying thesis: we are not merely witnessing a healthy skepticism of authority but a full-fledged, society-wide rejection of expertise that is undermining the very foundations of democracy.

Nichols is careful to clarify a critical distinction from the outset. He is not, he insists, lamenting that people are ignoring his advice or that of his fellow experts. Rather, he is sounding the alarm that a growing anti-intellectualism—supercharged by the internet and a changing culture—is making it impossible for societies to confront complex problems effectively. The "death" he describes is not the death of experts themselves, but of the public’s faith in them. This leads to a paradox where citizens believe themselves to be more informed than ever, thanks to the glut of information at their fingertips, while simultaneously becoming more resistant to learning from those who have dedicated their lives to a subject.

The book’s strength lies in its systematic diagnosis of the malaise. Nichols allocates blame widely, refusing to pin the problem on a single villain. He critiques the experts themselves for their occasional arrogance, their retreat into jargon-filled ivory towers, and their failure to engage the public effectively. He lambasts the media for its obsession with false equivalence—giving equal weight to a climate scientist and a fringe conspiracy theorist in the name of "balance"—and for prioritizing entertainment and outrage over sober explanation. Most pointedly, he critiques the modern university system, arguing that it has shifted from being an institution that teaches students how to think to one that treats them as customers to be satisfied, fostering an attitude where feeling right is more important than being right.

However, the heart of Nichols’ critique is reserved for the public. He identifies the internet as the primary accelerant of this crisis. The web creates an illusion of knowledge, allowing anyone to confound depth of information with understanding. Algorithms create impenetrable echo chambers where confirmation bias reigns supreme, and any expert consensus that contradicts a pre-held belief is dismissed as part of a conspiracy. This has bred what Nichols calls "the Google-fueled, Wikipedia-ized, blog-sodden" citizen who believes a few hours of online research equates to a medical degree or a PhD in international relations.

Some critics have argued that Nichols’ tone can veer into the very elitism he warns experts against. There are moments where his frustration is palpable, and his characterization of the public can feel broad and dismissive. Yet, this exasperation is also the book’s driving force. It is not the condescension of a man who thinks he is better than others, but the desperation of one who sees a ship heading for an iceberg while the passengers are arguing with the navigators about the existence of ice.

The book is ultimately a defense of a fundamental civic compact. Nichols argues that a functional society relies on a division of cognitive labor. We cannot all be experts in everything, and we must, by necessity, delegate authority on specific topics to those who have proven their mastery through rigorous training, peer review, and experience. This does not mean blind obedience. Healthy skepticism—the kind that asks tough questions and demands evidence—is vital. But it is fundamentally different from the nihilistic denialism that rejects entire fields of knowledge because their conclusions are inconvenient or challenging.

The Death of Expertise is not a cheerful read, but it is an essential one. In the years since its publication, the trends Nichols identified have only intensified, playing out in devastating fashion during the COVID-19 pandemic and ongoing debates about election integrity and climate change. The book is a clear-eyed, well-argued, and profoundly urgent warning. It is a call to rebuild a culture of humility, where citizens recognize the limits of their own knowledge and experts recommit to the duty of public engagement. For without a renewed respect for established knowledge, we risk a world where every fact is negotiable, every opinion is equal, and the very project of collective, rational problem-solving becomes impossible. In the end, Nichols’ book is a defense of truth itself, and a plea that we remember why it matters.

Craig Payne is a University lecturer, runner, cynic, researcher, skeptic, forum admin, woo basher, clinician, rabble-rouser, blogger and a dad.