Sometimes, what seems like anti-intellectualism is an instinctive loathing for scientific modernism by the uneducated. "Educated" people have brought them things like the Tuscegee Experiment.

Educated intellectuals like G. K. Chesterton, poets like Tolkein, academics like C. S. Lewis, clerics like Peter Kreeft have analyzed and described it much more eloquently, but with no less loathing.

The analytic Lewis work is "The Abolition of Man", his fictional depiction is "That Hideous Strength" - a dystopian novel as prescient as 1984 and Brave New World. (Lewis is one of the earliest to foresee hypertext.)

Here is a paragraph from "Eugenics and Other Evils" by Chesterton,

Most Eugenists are Euphemists. I mean merely that short words startle

them, while long words soothe them. And they are utterly incapable of

translating the one into the other, however obviously they mean the same

thing. Say to them "The persuasive and even

coercive powers of the citizen should enable him to make sure that the

burden of longevity in the previous generation does not become

disproportionate and intolerable, especially to the females"; say this

to them and they will sway slightly to and fro like babies sent to sleep

in cradles. Say to them "Murder your mother," and they sit up quite

suddenly. Yet the two sentences, in cold logic, are exactly the same.

Say to them "It is not improbable that a period may arrive when the

narrow if once useful distinction between the anthropoid homo

and the other animals, which has been modified on so many moral points,

may be modified also even in regard to the important question of the

extension of human diet"; say this to them, and beauty born of murmuring

sound will pass into their face. But say to them, in a simple, manly,

hearty way "Let's eat a man!" and their surprise is quite surprising.

Yet the sentences say just the same thing.

Chapter 2, The First Obstacles

And another:

Now here we find ourselves confronted with an amazing fact. When, in the

past, opinions so arguable have been enforced by State violence, it has

been at

the instigation of fanatics who held them for fixed and flaming

certainties. If truths could not be evaded by their enemies, neither

could they be altered even by their friends. But what are the certain

truths that the secular arm must now lift the sword to enforce? Why,

they are that very mass of bottomless questions and bewildered answers

that we have been studying in the last chapters—questions whose only

interest is that they are trackless and mysterious; answers whose only

glory is that they are tentative and new. The devotee boasted that he

would never abandon the faith; and therefore he persecuted for the

faith. But the doctor of science actually boasts that he will always

abandon a hypothesis; and yet he persecutes for the hypothesis. The

Inquisitor violently enforced his creed, because it was unchangeable.

The savant enforces it violently because he may change it the next day.

Chapter 7, The Established Church of Doubt