Imagine if a famous director, a best-selling author, your hardest teacher, and a highly-regarded critic, got abducted by aliens wielding giant anal-probes.
The aliens strip them all naked and attach ID numbers to their rear-ends.
Then the probing begins. They note the height, weight, and general health of each subject, and then the statistics that the probing procures.
They’re then carted away and stored in numerical order amidst a vast bio-library for future reference.
I wish I had some some witty social-political-toilet joke as a finale in here, but that’s not the point.
The point is that if you take someone out of their natural environment, they lose all context. In another land, their accolades, titles, education, and physical embellishments mean nothing. They’re just another curious foreign being flailing around making funny noises.
No matter what kind of prestige (or lack thereof) one might have, their words and sense of stature are not really real. They have as much impact on us as we allow them to, and if we agree with that version of reality.
In our reality, their judgements of us could either mean the decisive voice of a demigod, or just funny noises.
It’s all in our perception.
We have a choice how deep we want to go.