There exists a traditional behavior on the Internet that some people ascribe to the clever set, though it is less a sign of intelligence than a display of social posture. The pattern can be summarized as: “I do not know, this is beneath me.”
That behavior does not truly come from the intelligentsia, which is capable of recognizing ignorance without bragging about it. It is easy to spot the type who signs off with a tiny, self-satisfied gesture and asks, simply, “And who is Kiselev?” or “What is Coelho?”
Another common refrain is the stance: “I do not watch TV,” or “I do not listen to Stas Mikhailov.” It is worth noting that television is a topic with a life of its own. The comments often imply that viewers are not paying attention to talk shows or speeches on national channels, while still possessing a surprising ability to dismiss topics at a distance. That dismissal often reflects caution rather than knowledge.
The origin of this posture is not entirely clear, yet it is easy to spot in the observation of someone in a pristine white coat who, adjusting a pince-nez, asks, “Who is this?” or “What is this about?”
The resulting picture of citizens’ consciousness is striking in its clarity. The motive is simple and familiar: a person strives with great effort to project superiority over the very topics under discussion. The effect, in turn, can appear both comical and pitiable to onlookers. Responders, eager to tease, often remark in chorus, “Were you banned from Google?”—a running joke that spirals in circles.
As a high school math teacher once noted, people have fun to the measure of their own immorality. The remark fits this context because it captures the tension between curiosity and vanity that marks online discourse.
From a broader perspective, there was a time when Wikipedia and the Internet did not exist. In those days, knowledge carried more weight and pride in learning was common. The value of knowing something did not depend on the field, and owning facts was a shared social standard rather than a badge of elitism.
Discourse about a director, writer, or artist often begins not with a personal judgment but with a careful examination of the work itself. The aim is to avoid appearing pretentious or arrogant, not to pretend expertise where it is lacking. There is a large crowd that shares this approach, seeking honest assessment rather than showy bravado.
There is also a category of information that seems effortless to acquire. It comprises so-called commonplaces where certain names and works are considered universally known. In many places, it is hard to imagine life without awareness of certain public figures and cultural touchstones. Yet the act of feigning encyclopedic knowledge without a genuine encounter with the material is a flaw that can undermine credibility and invite ridicule.
People often discover popular artists or media by sheer exposure, picking up references from routine encounters. The moment a reader lifts a brow and tilts a collar as if bewildered, the impression may become a mark of neurotic pretension or even a misinformed stance. The pattern persists: someone asserts knowledge without reading or viewing, while crowning themselves with a sense of superiority.
In everyday online behavior, countless ways exist to signal sophistication. People repeat phrases heard from others, pass along secondhand opinions, and try to outpace one another with clever repartees. Yet the central question remains unresolved: why this impulse to censor oneself about what is known and not known? Why the hesitation to engage honestly with content and critique it on its merits?
One fair conclusion is that the impulse often aims at social admiration rather than genuine understanding. The effect is not informative, but performative. It can be a barrier to meaningful discussion and to learning, dampening curiosity and narrowing the field of inquiry.
Thus the broader observation stands: the online crowd frequently values appearance over substance. The result is a culture where knowing less is not rare but celebrated, while real analysis is penalized by a chorus of quick judgments. In this environment, the need for thoughtful, well-supported critique remains essential, and it is worth encouraging a culture that rewards curiosity and clear-eyed evaluation over bragging and posturing.
The author’s perspective emphasizes a personal stance that may not align with every reader’s view, yet it seeks to highlight a common tendency in digital discourse. The aim is not to condemn but to invite reflection on how information is approached and how conclusions are formed in the virtual sphere. In the end, the value found in genuine understanding far outweighs the convenience of superficial showmanship. The reader is invited to consider how these patterns influence everyday conversations and to choose a path of informed, respectful engagement rather than empty bravado.