HumanWORKS

Category: uncomfortable conclusions

The Uncomfortable Conclusions series, hosted on HumanWORKS

  • The Curse of Competence: Why Excellence Makes You a Hostage to Your Own Skills

    Let’s talk about probably the most perverse reward system ever devised outside of experimental psychology labs: the modern workplace’s response to demonstrated competence.

    It goes something like this:

    You solve a problem effectively.

    People notice.

    They bring you more similar problems.

    You solve those too. Congratulations! You’ve now been rewarded with a permanent problem-solving role that will follow you like a particularly clingy ghost through the remainder of your professional existence. I hope you enjoy whatever it is you were doing!

    Welcome to the Curse of Competence – that strange phenomenon whereby doing something well once guarantees you’ll be doing it repeatedly until either your skills deteriorate from soul-crushing boredom or you fake your own death and restart your career under an assumed identity in a different industry.

    The Competence Trap: Hotel California for Skills

    The competence trap functions with the elegant simplicity of a particularly well-designed venus fly trap. The initial experience is quite pleasant – recognition! appreciation! the warm glow of being needed! – right until the moment you realise you’re now permanently stuck doing that one thing you happened to be good at during that meeting in 2019.

    “But surely,” I hear you protest, “organisations would want to develop their talented people? Move them around to leverage their abilities? Create growth paths that capitalise on demonstrated excellence?”

    Oh, my sweet summer child. That would require both forward thinking and the willingness to temporarily sacrifice immediate efficiency for long-term gain – two qualities approximately as common in corporate environments as unicorns who are also certified public accountants. (Why think of the future when you have next quarter breathing down your neck!)

    The reality operates on a principle I’ll call Organisational Path Dependence: once you become known as “the Excel person” or “the one who can calm down Client X” or “the presentation wizard,” that identity becomes fixed in the corporate hivemind with a permanence that ancient Egyptian stonemasons would envy. (The pyramids may be magnificent but I’m sure Sarah has been doing that trick with the finance software for as long as it took the slaves – I mean aliens – to build them)

    This phenomenon creates magnificent absurdities like:

    – The senior developer still fixing basic code because they were good at it as a junior five years ago

    – The marketing director still writing all the copy because once, in 2015, they composed a particularly effective email

    – The finance executive who can’t escape quarterly planning because they created a spectacular spreadsheet during the Obama administration

    Each trapped in their own personal Groundhog Day of competence, doomed to repeat their past excellence in perpetuity while watching less capable colleagues fail their way upward with spectacular regularity. (It’s amazing how there’s a waterline where you fall upwards once you get into the management realm, whilst the mere plebs of the world huddle around metaphorical fires worrying about the 675 metrics they have to hit just to keep doing the actual fucking work.)

    The Reward for Carrying Water: A Bigger Bucket

    The corporate response to demonstrated capability follows a pattern so predictable it should be taught in business schools under the probably-more-honest-than-most-bootcamps “How to Systematically Burn Out Your Best People 101.”

    Step 1: Identify person who executes Task X effectively

    Step 2: Give person more of Task X

    Step 3: When they handle that well, add even more Task X

    Step 4: Express confusion when person becomes increasingly desperate to never see Task X again and/or goes off sick citing mental burnout

    This system operates with the precision of a Swiss watch designed by particularly sadistic engineers. Its elegance lies in how it masquerades as recognition while functioning as punishment. “You’re so good at this!” translates directly to “You’ll never escape doing this!” – a sort of Sisyphean life where rocks and infinite hills got replaced with the mind numbing shuffling of digital detritus in a tastefully styled office with seemingly unironic motivational quotes. It’s up to you which is worse (I’ve always liked rocks).

    In that sense, the demonstrated empathy on show is rather like responding to someone who swims well by throwing them into progressively deeper bodies of water while adding increasingly heavy weights to their ankles.

    “But you’re so good at not drowning Hannah! We’re just creating opportunities for you to further develop this clearly demonstrated capability!”

    What makes this particularly diabolical is how it’s presented as a compliment. “We keep giving you these projects because you’re so good at them!” they say, nodding earnestly, as though permanently consigning you to the same repetitive task is a recognition of your value rather than an exploitation of your reliability. Meanwhile, those who don’t have any obvious skills spend at least 75% of their time practicing their acceptance speech for the invariable falling upward promotion trajectory that invariably awaits. (That’s because the generally accepted way to deal with awful leaders is by throwing them somewhere else in the hope that maybe that person might have a semblance of a backbone, and the ability to have an uncomfortable conversation rather than palming them off because their current manager has neither.)

    The effective people by comparison? Well the reward for carrying water is, inevitably, a bigger bucket, and a PIP if they fail to carry the bucket that may or may not now contain all of Earth’s water system.

    The Competence/Growth Inversion Principle

    Behold the magnificent irony at the heart of professional development: the relationship between demonstrated competence and actual career growth typically exhibits a strong negative correlation.

    I call this the Competence/Growth Inversion Principle, and it works like this:

    – The more crucial your current contribution, the less the organisation can “afford” to move you. (In the corporate world, why would we want to move people out of roles that get stuff done as it might mean we’d have to think about one or more of succession planning, increased competition at the next level of hierarcy, or pulling ones thumb out of one’s backside.

    – The more reliably you solve certain problems, the more tightly you become identified with those problems (so you’ve worked out how to use functions beyond =SUM? You’re the Excel “guru” now – no, there’s no payrise).

    – The more irreplaceable you become in a specific function, the less likely you are to escape it (it’s like a black hole has appeared in space yet rather than being able to observe light falling into the abyss, it’s your career prospects disappearing over the event horizon).

    Meanwhile, observe the person who is mediocre at multiple things rather than excellent at one thing. They often advance with puzzling speed, largely because:

    1. They’re never quite good enough at any one thing to become indispensable in that role

    2. Their consistent mediocrity creates no specific attachment to any particular function so they are always ready to go (mostly to shit, but in a way that allows them to tell management what they want to hear abstract of what reality is)

    3. Their broad but shallow exposure creates the illusion of versatility

    4. Nobody fights to keep them in their current role because nobody particularly values what they’re currently doing

    This creates the magnificent spectacle of organisational advancement functioning almost as natural selection for a particular type of non-excellence – not outright incompetence (though that certainly happens), but rather the careful cultivation of being just good enough at many things to avoid the curse of being excellent at one thing. (In that sense, it’s a skill – but probably not the sort of skill we should be lauding if we’re being honest).

    The competence trap thus creates a perverse incentive structure where rational career actors might deliberately avoid demonstrating too much excellence in any single domain lest they become permanently associated with it. Is that what a company should look like?

    The Specialist’s Lament

    For those caught in the competence trap, work often devolves into a peculiar form of specialised repetition that feels less like career development and more like being a particularly well-educated hamster on a wheel.

    I recently spoke with a mid-career professional – let’s call her Grace – who made the career-limiting mistake of creating an exceptional PowerPoint presentation in 2018. This singular event, which lasted approximately 45 minutes, has somehow become her professional identity for the next seven years.

    “I have two degrees and fifteen years of experience,” she told me with the thousand-yard stare of someone who has created one too many slide transitions, “but I’m now introduced in meetings as ‘our PowerPoint person’ like I’m some sort of sentient template. I’ve debated changing my surname to PPTX-Smythe.”.

    Another victim of the competence trap – we’ll call him Marcus – described being “the data guy” despite having originally been hired as a strategic planner with significant decision-making responsibility.

    “I made one particularly good PowerBI dashboard during my first month,” he explained, “and now I haven’t been invited to a strategy meeting in three years. Meanwhile, I’ve watched three consecutive bosses implement catastrophically bad strategic decisions that I could have helped prevent, but apparently, my only role now is to create colourful visualisations of the resulting disasters.”

    The specialist’s lament echoes across industries and functions: “I am so much more than this one skill, and yet this one skill has somehow become my entire professional identity.”

    The Three Deadly Career Virtues

    Particularly prone to the competence trap are those who exhibit what I’ll call the Three Deadly Career Virtues: reliability, efficiency, and conflict avoidance.

    These seemingly positive attributes combine to create the perfect victim profile:

    1. Reliability ensures you’ll get the job done without requiring management attention, making you the path of least resistance for similar future tasks

    2. Efficiency means you can handle increasing volumes of the same work, creating the illusion that this arrangement is sustainable (I mean why wouldn’t it be given companies operate under the idea of continuous, infinite growth as if that’s really a thing)

    3. Conflict avoidance makes you less likely to push back when your role becomes increasingly narrowed to your area of demonstrated competence

    Together, these virtues create what appears from the outside to be the ideal employee but is actually a person being slowly entombed in their own capabilities like a museum exhibit: “Here we have a perfectly preserved specimen of an Excel wizard in their natural habitat. Note how they continue to pivot tables despite their growing despair.”

    In short, the exploitable get exploited. It’s a tale as old as time, but without the whimsy of listening to a song about Beauty and the Beast (bite me, I’m a Disney fan).

    These qualities typically combine with a work ethic instilled since childhood that makes refusing tasks feel morally wrong, creating the perfect conditions for indefinite exploitation of specific skills at the expense of broader development. (The reward for childhood trauma that likely made you a people pleaser to mitigate anger? Some adult trauma, delivered digitally via the Microsoft office suite.)

    The Double-Bind of Demonstrated Expertise

    Those caught in the competence trap face a particularly cruel double-bind when they attempt to escape:

    Scenario 1: Do you continue demonstrating excellence in your pigeonholed role, further cementing your association with it while watching growth opportunities go to others?

    Scenario 2: Deliberately perform worse in hopes of being released from your specialisation, thereby risking your professional reputation and potentially confirming the organisation’s unspoken belief that you’re only good for this one thing anyway. (PIPs are available for those below the “safe” watermark of those who operate the metrics rather than those who have to comply with them).

    Neither option offers a particularly appealing path forward. It’s rather like being asked whether you’d prefer to be slowly suffocated by a pillow or a duvet – the instrument differs but the outcome remains distressingly similar.

    This double-bind often leads to the most reliable people in organisations quietly updating their LinkedIn profiles at 11pm while sighing heavily into their third glass of wine. (Or, in my case, manipulating my psychology by engaging hyperfocus simply by waiting till the last second before I have so much adrenaline and cortisol in my system, there’s approximately zero chance I’m going to be sleeping).

    The only apparent escape routes involve:

    1. Leaving the organisation entirely (the “corporate witness protection program” approach)

    2. Finding a sponsor powerful enough to override the organisational imperative to keep you exactly where you’re “most valuable”

    3. Developing such a spectacular new skill that it overshadows your existing competence trap (approximately as likely as teaching your cat to prepare your taxes, but if you can say AI in every other sentence, you may have a shot)

    The “Go-To Person” Paradox

    Perhaps the most insidious aspect of the competence trap is how it’s disguised as a compliment. Being the “go-to person” for anything sounds like recognition rather than the professional equivalent of being sentenced to repeat the same year of school indefinitely.

    “Sarah’s our go-to for client presentations” sounds like praise until you realise Sarah hasn’t done anything except client presentations since the iPhone 7 was cutting-edge technology.

    “We always rely on Dave for the monthly reporting” seems like an acknowledgment of Dave’s value until you notice Dave gazing longingly out the window every 30th of the month like a prisoner marking days on a cell wall, grappling with an Excel spreadsheet so large and creaky that it might masquerade as a haunted house on the weekend.

    Being the “go-to person” is less an honour and more a subtle form of organisational typecasting – one where you’re permanently cast as “Person Who Does That One Thing” in the ongoing corporate production of “Tasks Nobody Else Wants To Learn and How We Found Suckers To Do Them.”

    The Organisational Amnesia Phenomenon

    Compounding the competence trap is what I call Organisational Amnesia – the curious inability of workplaces to remember anything about you except the specific skill for which you’ve become known.

    You may have:

    – Published thought leadership in your industry

    – Successfully led cross-functional projects

    – Developed innovative approaches to longstanding problems

    – Demonstrated exceptional leadership qualities

    – Acquired three new languages and the ability to communicate telepathically with squirrels

    Please be aware that, much like that stock market advice you got, past performance does not indicate any potential future likelihood of similar success.

    Instead in planning meetings, you’ll still be referred to as “Morgan from accounting who does the thing with the spreadsheets.”

    This selective institutional memory creates situations where highly capable individuals with diverse skills and interests become one-dimensional caricatures in the organisational narrative – reduced to a single function like characters in a particularly lazy sitcom that runs for seventeen years with no sign of stopping, serving as escapism for the masses who can say “hey my life is bad, but I’m not as bad as Seymour from Uncomfortable Conclusions”.

    The Competence Escape Velocity Theory

    For those determined to break free of the competence trap, I propose the Competence Escape Velocity Theory, which states that escaping your pigeonhole requires simultaneously:

    1. Building a coalition of influential advocates who see your broader potential

    2. Secretly training replacements who can take over your current responsibilities (extra points if AI does is – management love that stuff, i.e. less spending on people who might complain)

    3. Creating visible wins in areas unrelated to your competence trap

    4. Developing a reputation for something – anything – other than your current specialisation (perhaps not soiling oneself at the Christmas party – keep some standards)

    5. Being willing to risk the identity security of being “the person who does X well”

    This multi-pronged approach represents your best chance of achieving escape velocity from the gravitational pull of your own competence – a manoeuvre approximately as complex as launching a rocket while simultaneously convincing mission control that you’re actually still on the launchpad.

    The difficulty explains why so many choose the simpler option: updating their CV and finding an organisation where they haven’t yet revealed their particular talents, creating a brief window of opportunity before the whole cycle begins again.

    The Mediocrity Advantage

    This analysis reveals a counterintuitive truth: there are significant professional advantages to strategic mediocrity – or at least to the careful management of where and when you demonstrate exceptional capability.

    The truly savvy career operator maintains a carefully calibrated performance level:

    – Good enough to be considered valuable

    – Not so good as to become indispensable in any one function

    – Visibly competent at politically advantageous skills

    – Carefully average at career-limiting responsibilities

    This calculated approach to skill demonstration represents a sophisticated response to organisational incentive structures that routinely punish excellence with more of the same work rather than growth opportunities. The sad reality is that this is ultimately bullshit of the highest order – and something that needs to be addressed at a broader level.

    After all, it’s not that organisations consciously design systems to reward mediocrity and punish excellence – it’s simply the emergent property of prioritising short-term efficiency over long-term development, immediate needs over strategic talent deployment, and the path of least resistance over optimal resource allocation. Who’d have thought focusing solely on the next thing – be that a quarter, task, or fixing a catastrophe might have such a significant impact?

    Beyond the Competence Ghetto

    So is there an alternative to this dysfunctional system? Perhaps. But it requires organisations to fundamentally reconsider their approach to talent development and individuals to strategically manage their skill demonstrations.

    For organisations, escaping this trap means:

    1. Creating systematic rotation programs that prioritise development of people over short-term efficiency

    2. Rewarding knowledge transfer rather than exclusive ownership of capabilities – which creates structural problems for both the business and the poor souls who get trapped

    3. Explicitly valuing versatility alongside specialisation

    4. Building redundancy for critical skills rather than relying on individual “heroes”

    5. Measuring managers on their team members’ growth rather than merely their output

    For individuals navigating existing systems, survival strategies include:

    1. Deliberately cultivating multiple, visible areas of competence to avoid single-skill typecasting

    2. Strategically training others in your “special skills” to reduce your uniqueness

    3. Explicitly negotiating skill deployment and development pathways before demonstrating new capabilities

    4. Creating alternative identity markers in the organisation beyond your functional skills

    5. Recognising when the only escape route might be the exit door – sadly, sometimes it becomes the only option if your organisation isn’t willing or able to change.

    The Uncomfortable Conclusion

    The competence trap reveals an uncomfortable truth: organisations frequently talk about developing talent while implementing systems that systematically prevent it. The gap between rhetoric and reality creates the professional equivalent of quicksand – the harder you work to prove your value, the more firmly you become stuck in a narrowing role.

    It may not be a conscious decision that is manifested by an evil corporate mind, but its impact on the wellbeing of their staff, and the associated headaches created by the need for mental gymnastics creates problems that are both human and financial.

    Perhaps the final irony is that recognising this dynamic represents its own form of competence – one that, if demonstrated too visibly, might land you permanently in the “organisational development” role where you can spend the remainder of your career explaining this phenomenon to others without actually being able to escape it yourself. (I fear I may have fallen into this hole by writing articles but, hey, at least I may have a future in some form of corporate stand up).

    The true meta-skill, then, might be learning exactly when to display competence, when to conceal it, and when to decide that an environment incapable of appropriately developing talent deserves neither your excellence nor your loyalty – being good at things you don’t want to do probably isn’t the route forward if you want to do bigger and better things.

    In that sense, the most valuable skill in navigating modern organisations might not be any particular technical capability but rather the wisdom to recognise when your competence is being weaponised against your own development – and the courage to seek environments where excellence is a pathway rather than a prison.

    The original copy of this article was published on my personal LinkedIn on April 25th, 2025. You can find the original link here: https://www.linkedin.com/pulse/curse-competence-why-excellence-makes-you-hostage-your-turvey-frsa-kympe/?trackingId=XmAsaUBPQQGJHP0dYoGpKw%3D%3D

  • The Power Paradox: Why Those Most Eager to Lead Should Probably Be Locked in the Office Supplies Cupboard

    Let’s discuss a serious issue that has plagued human societies since approximately fifteen minutes after we climbed down from the trees and someone declared themselves “Chief Banana Distributor” – namely, that the people most desperate to be in charge are precisely the ones who should be kept as far away from power as humanly possible, preferably in a soundproof room lined with pictures of kittens and motivational posters about ‘synergy’ so they can at least feel at home.

    Such a reflection, whilst possibly exaggerated for effect, isn’t merely a cynical observation on my part – one only need look around at the liberal sprinkling of proverbial self styled “hard men” in our contemporary political environment.

    It’s a structural problem that manifests with the reliability of a British train cancellation announcement – predictable, depressing, and somehow still surprising when it actually happens. (Depressing might not be the case for all people as my right hand man at work actually likes cancellations – on the proviso that he gets a decent refund. Bless you Marrows).

    Consider the psychological profile of your average power-seeker. The person who looks at a leadership position and thinks, “Yes, what the world desperately needs is ME telling everyone else what to do.”.

    This individual – and I’m sure you’ve met a few like I have – typically possesses the exact cocktail of traits you’d want to avoid in someone making consequential decisions: unshakeable self-belief detached from actual competence, a conviction that complex problems have simple solutions they alone can see, and an ego so robust it could survive a direct nuclear strike.

    Meanwhile, the person who might actually make a decent leader – thoughtful, self-aware, cognisant of their limitations, capable of balancing competing perspectives – is often found desperately trying to avoid being nominated for the role whilst muttering something about “just wanting to get on with some actual work.”

    What we’ve got here is a classical selection problem that would make Darwin reach for a stiff drink. Don’t worry me old mucker, Charlie – we’ve got some ideas!

    The Douglas Adams Rule of Leadership

    The late, great Douglas Adams perfectly captured the paradox of leadership in “The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy” when he wrote:

    “The major problem – one of the major problems, for there are several – one of the many major problems with governing people is that of whom you get to do it; or rather of who manages to get people to let them do it to them. To summarize: it is a well-known fact that those people who must want to rule people are, ipso facto, those least suited to do it. To summarize the summary: anyone who is capable of getting themselves made President should on no account be allowed to do the job.”

    This isn’t just witty science fiction (I mean it is that also), but rather it’s practically a mathematical theorem that plays out with depressing regularity across organisations from corporate boardrooms to parish councils to national governments. No locale is safe – Vogon inhibited or no.

    Sadly, the desire for power often correlates inversely with the wisdom to wield it responsibly. Those most attracted to leadership positions tend to be those most enamoured with the trappings and status rather than the actual responsibility of stewarding an organisation or community through difficulty and uncertainty.

    The Confidence/Competence Inversion

    I’ve spent enough time in corporate environments to witness what I’ll call the Confidence/Competence Inversion Principle: the relationship between someone’s certainty about their capabilities and their actual abilities often bears an unfortunate negative correlation.

    You know ThatGuy™. I talked about them briefly a few weeks ago in one of my recent articles.

    They’re the one who speaks first, loudest, and with unwavering certainty about topics they discovered approximately 37 minutes before the meeting. (I can play catch up on learning with AI, you know!)

    The one who has never encountered a moment of self-doubt that couldn’t be immediately crushed under the weight of their own magnificence (behold the glory that is constrained within this mid-range Next two-for-one suit!).

    The one whose confidence in their prescriptions is matched only by their complete ignorance of the subsequent clean-up operations required after their brilliant ideas implode. (I always find it remarkable the amount of people who think they are great drivers but constantly have near misses with accidents – funny that).

    These individuals don’t merely suffer from the Dunning-Kruger effect; they’ve turned it into a leadership philosophy, that would have a whole saleable framework of what was involved in being as good as them – if it wasn’t for the ego delusion and the fucking inability for them to do any actual work of value.

    These people have mistaken certainty for competence, volume for insight, and stubbornness for principle.

    Meanwhile, somewhere in your organisation sits someone with actual expertise – thoughtful, nuanced, aware of complexity – who prefaces every contribution with “This might be wrong, but…” or “I’m not entirely sure about this…”

    Guess which one gets promoted?

    Precisely.

    The Reluctant Leader Hypothesis

    There’s a persistent myth in modern management that leadership requires unbridled enthusiasm for the role. That the person who wants it most deserves it most. This is roughly equivalent to suggesting that the person most eager to perform brain surgery on you – despite having no medical training but owning a really sharp kitchen knife and having watched several YouTube tutorials – should be allowed to crack on. (Several videos – not one. How much more evidence do you need!?)

    Perhaps we should consider what I’ll call the Reluctant Leader Hypothesis: those best suited to positions of responsibility are often those most aware of its burdens and limitations.

    History offers some support for this idea.

    Cincinnatus, the Roman dictator who relinquished power voluntarily to return to his farm.

    George Washington refusing a third term and establishing the peaceful transition of power.

    Even the mythological King Arthur, a man pulled from obscurity by a sword that apparently had better leadership selection mechanisms than most modern organisations. (There’s a real thought – maybe we should seek out mythical swords to determine who should be king, except I’ve just checked the stock levels at the Mystic Warehouse, and they’re all out).

    What unites these examples isn’t merely their reluctance, but their sense of service rather than entitlement. Leadership as duty rather than as a prize. Authority as responsibility rather than playground dynamics of who has the sharpest title. You know – God forbid – actual leadership.

    The Corporate Selection Problem

    In theory, modern organisations should have sophisticated methods for identifying and developing genuine leadership talent. In practice, most promotion systems operate with all the nuance and discernment of a hungry toddler at a birthday party buffet, grabbing the brightest, loudest things while ignoring the vegetables of quiet competence sitting forlornly on the side.

    The standard corporate selection process rewards several traits that have at best a tenuous relationship – and arguably an inverse one – with actual leadership capability:

    – Unwavering self-promotion – Because nothing says “I’m focused on organisational success” like an obsessive documentation (and associated proclamations) of personal achievements

    – Strategic visibility – Ensuring one is seen doing things rather than simply doing them well (because why do the work when you can just take the credit?)

    – Confident proclamations – Making assertions with certainty regardless of their relationship to reality

    – Relationship cultivation with existing power structures – Proving one’s fitness to lead by demonstrating a profound capacity for strategic flattery and a fondness for the taste of human excrement of staff who, obviously coincidentally, sit further up the hierarchy

    None of these correlate strongly with the ability to navigate complexity, build consensus, acknowledge uncertainty, or make difficult decisions under pressure – you know, the actual job of leadership.

    The Quiet Competence Conundrum

    Meanwhile, genuine capability often manifests in ways that are systematically overlooked or undervalued:

    – Thoughtful consideration – Interpreted as indecisiveness rather than prudence

    – Nuanced perspectives – Dismissed as “complexity” in a world enamoured with false certainty

    – Acknowledgment of limitations – Seen as weakness rather than self-awareness

    – Focus on work rather than self-promotion – Resulting in the organisational invisibility of the actually competent

    The result is a persistent filtering mechanism that elevates the confidently inadequate whilst overlooking the quietly capable. It’s not merely an unfortunate coincidence but a structural feature of systems that mistake confidence for competence, certainty for clarity, and self-promotion for achievement.

    Beyond the Binary: The Confident-Competent Unicorn

    Despite my ongoing affinity for hyperbole, surrealism, and aligned topics, let’s acknowledge the legitimate counterargument: confidence and competence aren’t mutually exclusive.

    Occasionally – about as frequently as a total solar eclipse visible from your precise geo-coordinates where you read this article – these qualities align in a single individual.

    These rare creatures – the confident-competent – do exist.

    They combine genuine capability with the self-assurance to deploy it effectively.

    They’re the unicorns of the organisational world, and finding one feels about as likely as discovering your cat has been quietly paying half your mortgage.

    The problem isn’t that these individuals don’t exist; it’s that our selection mechanisms are catastrophically bad at distinguishing them from their more common doppelgängers: the confident-incompetent. From a distance, and particularly to existing leadership equally afflicted with the confidence/competence inversion, they appear identical – how are people going to deduce the difference between bullshit and brilliance if at least part of their own rise to the top involved a suitable amount of bluff and bluster?

    The Selection Renovation Project

    If we accept that our current approaches to identifying leadership talent are fundamentally broken, how might we improve them? How do we find those capable but not necessarily clamoring for power?

    Here are some horribly unfashionable suggestions that would probably get me removed from any corporate HR function within approximately 17 minutes:

    1. Value proven problem-solving over persuasive self-presentation

    Track record of quietly solving complex problems without creating new ones might be a better indicator of leadership potential than the ability to create a compelling PowerPoint about one’s own magnificence. Projects that never go red are probably better places to find leaders compared to the ”heroes” who always seems be in the thick of the latest corporate bomb site.

    2. Seek evidence of epistemic humility

    The capacity to say “I don’t know” or “I was wrong” indicates an intellectual flexibility essential for navigating uncertainty. Someone who can’t recall the last time they were mistaken isn’t displaying confidence; they’re displaying delusion.

    3. Observe behaviour under genuine pressure

    Not the manufactured pressure of interviews or presentations, but the authentic stress of unexpected challenges. Character reveals itself not in rehearsed moments but in unscripted responses to difficulty. As the old saying goes – “adversity introduces a man unto himself”.

    4. Listen to those being led

    The people working directly with potential leaders often have the clearest perspective on their actual capabilities. 360-degree feedback isn’t perfect, but it’s frequently more accurate than upward-only assessment, because often the nature of senior leadership is that they don’t have the understanding of the detail, because the detail has probably changed in the last 20 years since they were doing the actual work on the ground.

    5. Create selection mechanisms that don’t reward self-promotion

    Design processes that identify capability without requiring candidates to engage in competitive displays of ego and certainty. (The amount of people I see overlooked simply because they aren’t extroverted enough still baffles me to this day).

    6. Value the questioners, not just the answerers

    Those who ask thoughtful questions often have a deeper understanding of complexity than those offering immediate, confident solutions.

    The Fundamental Recalibration

    Perhaps most fundamentally, we need to recalibrate our collective understanding of what leadership actually is. It’s not about being the loudest, the most certain, or the most eager.

    It’s most certainly not about having immediate answers to every question or projecting an image of infallibility.

    Leadership in a complex world requires the capacity to:

    – Navigate uncertainty without resorting to false certainty

    – Integrate diverse perspectives without losing decisiveness

    – Acknowledge limitations without abdicating responsibility

    – Maintain direction without ignoring changing conditions

    – Build consensus without avoiding necessary conflict

    None of these capabilities correlate strongly with the traits we typically filter for in our leadership selection processes. None emerge reliably from processes designed to identify the most confident rather than the most capable.

    The Reluctant-But-Capable Draft

    Maybe we need leadership term limits with mandatory periods of actual work in between. “Congratulations on your three-year stint as Director of Strategic Initiatives! Please enjoy your new two-year residency in Customer Support where you’ll experience the joyful consequences of all those ‘streamlining processes’ you implemented. Your corner office has been converted into a supply cupboard, but we’ve left you a lovely desk lamp.”. (That sort of thing tends to sharpen the mind in a way that no abstracted thinking can really illustrate when there’s a chance that making one’s subordinates lives hell might come back to burn one’s own backside in future)

    I’d like to propose the Turvey-Serve-y leadership selection process. (I’ll admit the naming needs work).

    Imagine an organisational world where leadership positions came with an obligation rather than a corner office, premium brand electric vehicle, and stock options.

    Where selection focused on demonstrated capability rather than performed confidence.

    Where the question wasn’t “Do you want to lead?” but rather “Given your demonstrated capabilities, would you be willing to serve?”

    Servant leadership isn’t a particularly new idea, and this approach would likely encounter immediate resistance from those most invested in the current system – particularly those whose rise has been fuelled more by confidence than competence. It would require restructuring incentives, reconceptualising leadership development, and fundamentally challenging our collective assumptions about what leadership looks like – far from an easy or overnight job.

    It would mean real change to ensure the new breed of servant leaders are empowered with the tools to generate real success, rather than loaded up with seventeen tons of load like the Little Donkey until said donkey has collapsed and needs to be put to sleep.

    It would be difficult, messy, and uncertain – much like actual leadership itself.

    The Uncomfortable Conclusion

    The power paradox has no simple resolution. The very nature of power attracts those who desire it for its own sake rather than for what it enables them to accomplish for others. Our selection mechanisms systematically mistake confidence for competence, certainty for clarity, and self-promotion for achievement.

    Yet perhaps acknowledging this paradox is the first step towards mitigating its worst effects. Perhaps by recognising the inverse relationship between power-seeking and suitability for leadership, we can begin to design systems that select for the qualities we actually need rather than those that shout loudest for attention. These plans will take time, but that’s surely an area where we should invest our thinking if we want a better world over time.

    In the meantime, perhaps the most practical heuristic remains a profound skepticism toward those most eager to lead. The person telling you they were born for leadership is precisely the one you should escort gently but firmly to the nearest supplies cupboard, where they can organise the paper clips into a splendid hierarchy of their own design while composing a 15-page manifesto on ‘The Future of Office Supply Optimisation: A Leadership Journey’.

    By contrast, the truly qualified leader is probably hiding under their desk right now, hoping that this particular chalice of responsibility passes them by, ideally to land on the desk of someone with enough confidence to be utterly untroubled by their complete lack of qualifications.

    The original copy of this article was published via my personal LinkedIn on April 17th, 2025. You can find the original link here: https://www.linkedin.com/pulse/power-paradox-why-those-most-eager-lead-should-locked-turvey-frsa-ydrde/?trackingId=7afVev12RM2JcryLdCRZuA%3D%3D

  • The Authenticity Industrial Complex: How ‘Being Yourself’ Became Another Performance Metric

    So after last week’s entry into my newsletter where I awoke the somewhat more sarcastic part of my writing personality, I wanted to discuss a different topic on a similar theme.

    So, let’s talk about the most exquisite corporate magic trick of recent time: the transmutation of “just be yourself” into “perform your carefully calibrated authenticity for our quarterly evaluation while we take notes.”.

    I’m referring, of course, to the trite-but-evidently-not-serious corporate directive to “bring your authentic self to work” – a phrase that deserves its own spot in the Museum of Organisational Doublespeak alongside such classics as “we’re like family here” (translation: your boundaries will be tested) and “open door policy” (come in, but make it quick and don’t bring me problems).

    What’s truly remarkable isn’t just that corporations have successfully commodified authenticity – though that’s impressive enough (lord knows they love a metric and associated spreadsheets) – but that they’ve managed to transform what was once a philosophical pursuit into a professional obligation with all the genuine human warmth of a LinkedIn algorithm recommending you connect with someone who died three years ago.

    The Authenticity Measurement Framework™

    From my observations, the corporate authenticity directive works a bit like being told you absolutely must dance like nobody’s watching, except there’s a panel of judges with scorecards, the dance floor is surrounded by CCTV cameras, and HR has drafted a 37-page document on Appropriate Spontaneous Movement Protocols.

    Len Goodman will, of course, always give you a seven – which, depending on how the other scores turn out, will likely drag you toward the dreaded middle ground of “meets expectations”.

    “Be yourself!” they exclaim with evangelical fervour. “But not, you know, that self,” they quickly add, gesturing vaguely toward whatever aspects of your personality might cause even the mildest disruption to quarterly projections. “When I said I wanted you to be authentic, I didn’t mean like that” as you launch into a massive monologue, apropos of nothing, about how you’ve always liked that one type of train you only see occasionally.

    The acceptable authentic self bears a suspicious resemblance to a TED Talk presenter who’s had exactly one relatable struggle that taught them a valuable lesson which – through an astonishing coincidence – perfectly aligns with the organisation’s current strategic objectives. What are the odds? It’s like we only want to hear struggles when they have ended up being sorted which is the tone deaf equivalent of asking someone when they will be up to completing their project deliverable despite their recent invasive thoughts of self harm.

    You’re encouraged to express your genuine thoughts, particularly when they involve enthusiastic agreement with pre-determined leadership decisions.

    You’re welcome to bring your unique perspective, especially when it can be channelled into mandatory fun activities that will later appear in the recruitment brochure under “vibrant company culture.”. Just do me a favour and ensure those thoughts are pre-vetted internally before you mention, well, anything, OK?

    In that sense, it’s authenticity as imagined by someone who believes personality is something you select from a drop-down menu during the onboarding process – created in Excel, naturally, given that most of the world’s businesses still seem to have a weird fascination with spreadsheets when other more advanced tools are available.

    The Strategic Vulnerability Initiative

    So when you have a look around, be sure to pay particular attention to the corporate appetite for a very specific flavour of vulnerability – one that’s been carefully filtered, pasteurised, homogenised, and packaged for safe workplace consumption. It’s the equivalent of ideas cooked up by people who think they’ve gone “a little wild” because they had two espresso shots in their pickup from Costa this morning – you know, the people who have personalities that, if they were selected via a colour chart, would be somewhere between grey and beige.

    The ideal authentic vulnerability resembles a movie trailer rather than the actual film: edited highlights that suggest emotional depth without the uncomfortable duration of genuine human complexity. It’s vulnerability with excellent production values and a focus-group-tested ending.

    The acceptable vulnerability performance includes:

    – Sharing a challenge that demonstrates your growth mindset, preferably one you’ve already triumphantly overcome through a combination of grit, pluck, and corporate-approved resilience techniques (additional points if you actively cite the company was responsible for the triumph)

    – Revealing just enough personal information to seem human but not so much that colleagues might need to reconsider their casual jokes about your demographic group (I mean we’d hate to see real change, right?)

    – Expressing precisely calibrated emotion – enough to demonstrate you’re not a sociopath, but not so much that anyone might need to reschedule a meeting

    – Demonstrating the ideal level of self-awareness: enough to show you’re reflective about your flaws but not enough to question why you’re working 60 hours a week to make someone else rich

    So what are the cardinal sins that one must avoid in this vulnerability theatre? Authentic mentions of salary dissatisfaction, genuine confusion about the company’s seventeen conflicting priorities that required you to read 275 pages of buzzwords for no other reason than to tick a box, or legitimate concerns about why the last three people in your position burned out faster than a paper fireplace in a cash factory.

    The Authenticity Consultant Will See You Now

    I know it’s hard to believe that not every business needs to suck every last drop of humanity out of operations, but we know that there will always be people who want to try.

    Where there’s organisational anxiety, there’s inevitably an entire ecosystem of consultants, coaches, and thought leaders who materialise like vultures circling a wounded business model. What we need is more abstract optimisation that looks nice on a PowerPoint because “metric go up” is synonymous with virtue.

    It was from this rarefied yet fertile ground that the authenticity industrial complex was born – a magnificent marketplace of authenticity frameworks, vulnerability road maps, and genuineness methodologies all available for the reasonable price of your department’s entire professional development budget.

    These authenticity architects offer such wonders as:

    – The Seven-Step Genuine Self Activation Process™

    – Authentic Leadership Bootcamps (because nothing says “be yourself” quite like being shouted at in a hotel conference room).

    – Personal Brand Alignment Intensives (a process whereby your authentic self is carefully sculpted to match both buzzword driven market demand and your manager’s expectations)

    – Vulnerability Assessment Tools that quantify exactly how genuinely you’re expressing yourself (with convenient benchmark data from industry leaders in authentic self-presentation)

    For a modest consulting fee approximately equivalent to the annual salary of one of your graduates, your organisation too can implement a comprehensive authenticity programme where staff participate in mandatory workshops designed to facilitate the spontaneous emergence of their true selves, then return to their home offices identical to those they left, but now with the added pressure of performing “natural” behaviour on command.

    The Authenticity Permission Gradient

    One thing I do find interesting is that corporate authenticity follows a curious mathematical formula where the freedom to express one’s true self expands in direct proportion to one’s proximity to the C-suite. This produces what I call the Authenticity Permission Gradient, a fascinating phenomenon observable in any corporate environment – if you want to see evidence out in the wild, have a look around your particular locale.

    At the executive level, authentic self-expression is recognised as the natural prerogative of visionary leadership:

    – The CEO’s authentic communication style (whether cryptic, brusque, or reminiscent of a woodland creature with rabies) becomes a celebrated leadership trademark featured in business profiles

    – The CFO’s authentic need for four hours of uninterrupted thinking time each morning becomes sacred calendar territory that not even an actual office fire would dare interrupt (but if you turn down two meetings, you’d best be ready for a grilling).

    – The COO’s authentic preference for communicating exclusively through terse emails sent at 3am becomes “just how they work best”, abstract of what that might do for mental health of the mere minions who work for them

    Meanwhile, several layers down the organisational chart:

    – Your authentic communication style becomes “needs to work on professional communication skills”

    – Your authentic need for uninterrupted focus time becomes “not a team player”, despite the fact that team you’re in being quite well regarded

    – Your authentic work rhythm becomes “needs to align better with organisational workflow”

    The Authenticity Permission Gradient reveals the uncomfortable truth: organisational authenticity is the corporate equivalent of parents telling children they can be anything they want for Halloween and then adding “…as long as we can make it from this pile of cardboard boxes and it doesn’t require me to learn any new skills, spend more than £5, or challenge my extremely narrow conception of appropriate costume themes.”.

    “Look, how am I supposed to dress you up as the concept of “sadness” with this loose bag of tat I bought from Tesco, Cecil? You’re going to be a grape because this green body paint was half price.”

    The Exhaustion of Performing Non-Performance

    Perhaps the most diabolical aspect of the corporate authenticity mandate is the sheer cognitive overhead of simultaneously performing while pretending you’re not performing.

    Traditional professionalism, for all its flaws, at least had the decency to acknowledge itself as a performance. You put on the suit, you adopted the demeanour, you played the role – everyone understood the game. It was uncomfortable at times, sure, but it was a mask that at least had some semblance of a ruleset to it.

    The authenticity imperative, by contrast, demands a meta-performance so complex it would make method actors weep with inadequacy. You must craft a carefully calibrated presentation of natural behaviour, then meticulously conceal all evidence of that crafting. It’s like being told to create elaborate origami while making it appear you’re just randomly folding paper with no particular outcome in mind.

    The cognitive load is staggering. At any given moment, you must:

    – Continuously monitor which aspects of your personality are currently acceptable for workplace consumption and which must remain carefully locked in the authenticity penalty box

    – Project natural enthusiasm for corporate initiatives that, were you being truly authentic, would prompt reactions ranging from mild bewilderment to launching your laptop out of the nearest window

    – Maintain just enough uniqueness to fulfill the authenticity requirement without becoming the “difficult one” whose authenticity is somehow always causing problems

    – Construct genuine-seeming responses to questions like “What did you think of the CEO’s three-hour vision presentation?” when your authentic response would violate several HR policies

    The performance of non-performance creates a strange existential exhaustion. It’s like being a duck – appearing to glide serenely across the surface while paddling frantically underneath – except you must also strenuously deny the existence of both the paddling and the water while a team of duck performance consultants measures your gliding metrics against quarterly expectations.

    The Final Commodification Frontier

    Hey, enough of the hyperbole (even though I really like doing it). What we need to acknowledge is that we’re witnessing the late-capitalist equivalent of colonising the final unclaimed territory: the self itself.

    Having already commodified your time, attention, skills, and emotional labour, organisations have now found ways to extract value from your very identity.

    Your authentic self is no longer merely who you are – it’s a strategic asset to be leveraged, optimised, and deployed for organisational benefit.

    Your personality quirks are now “potential market differentiators”.

    Your personal history represents “engagement opportunities”.

    Your values are “brand alignment vectors”.

    Your genuine reactions are “content generation opportunities.”.

    It’s as though someone read Orwell’s 1984, focused exclusively on the concept of thoughtcrime, and said, “Well thank you for the brilliant idea George, but how can we monetise it?”

    This transformation represents the logical end point of what happens when the “brain-dead but shows one’s working” AKA spreadsheet thinking encounters human complexity. When even “being yourself” becomes another checkbox on your performance review – right between “demonstrates proficiency in Excel” and “consistently meets deadlines” – we’ve completed the circle of commodification with a thoroughness that would impress even the most ambitious McKinsey consultant. Bravo from the back from BCG and Bain I hear also.

    A Modest Proposal for Less Exhausting Existence

    Is there an alternative to this authenticity performance paradox? Perhaps. However, it requires acknowledging some uncomfortable truths about the nature of work in contemporary organisations.

    First, complete authenticity in professional environments is neither possible nor desirable. Work inevitably involves some degree of performance and boundary maintenance. The problem isn’t that we perform at work but that we’ve created the exhausting expectation that performance should appear non-performative. It’s how I imagine Britt Lower felt in Severance trying to be a character who was trying to be a character as an actress who was trying to be a character – I’m getting a headache just thinking about it.

    It’s also rather like insisting that Olympic gymnasts not only complete their routines but also convince judges they’re just naturally bouncing around like that for fun. “She stuck the landing, but I could tell she was deliberately trying to avoid falling, so I’m deducting points for inauthenticity.”. Being impacted by gravity, Grace? That’s a two point deduction on your review…

    Second, genuine improvements in workplace wellbeing come primarily through structural changes rather than psychological reframing. All the authenticity workshops in the world won’t compensate for the fact that you’re expected to do three people’s jobs for one person’s salary while pretending this arrangement fills you with authentic purpose, as opposed to watching your blood pressure rise with the speed of the latest tech bro billionaire rocket into space.

    You can authentic-self your way through a toxic workplace about as effectively as you can positive-think your way through a collapsing building. At some point, structural integrity matters more than your attitude toward falling masonry.

    Third, actual respect for individuals manifests through systems that accommodate human needs rather than those that merely celebrate self-expression within narrowly defined parameters. True respect for authenticity means creating environments where difference is structurally accommodated rather than merely symbolically acknowledged.

    Putting up a “Bring Your Authentic Self to Work” poster in an open-plan office where people can’t focus, can’t have private conversations, and can’t control their basic environmental conditions is like putting a “Just Keep Swimming!” motivational poster in the middle of the Sahara Desert. The sentiment, while admirably chipper, fails to address certain fundamental limitations of the situation.

    The Quiet Dignity of Bounded Authenticity

    Contrarian as I know I am often prone to be, there’s something quietly subversive about embracing what we might call “bounded authenticity” – the radical notion that you are under no obligation to perform comprehensive selfhood in environments primarily designed to extract value from your labour.

    Bounded authenticity acknowledges work as a domain where certain aspects of yourself are relevant and others simply aren’t. It recognises that maintaining boundaries between personal and professional identities isn’t some failure of wholeness but a perfectly reasonable adaptation to the reality that your workplace is not, in fact, entitled to the complete, unfiltered you. If you want to bring it, that’s up to you – but you can’t be forced to “be yourself”.

    This approach doesn’t mean becoming an emotionless corporate drone. Rather, it means making tactical decisions about which elements of yourself you choose to bring to professional contexts – not because authenticity is a performance obligation but because selective authenticity is a resource management strategy.

    Think of it as authentic minimalism: bringing exactly the amount of yourself that serves your purposes rather than deploying your complete selfhood in service of organisational theatre.

    The Uncomfortable Conclusion

    The authenticity industrial complex ultimately reveals a profound anxiety at the heart of contemporary work culture – a desperate attempt to reconcile fundamentally dehumanising systems with the human need for meaning and connection. Rather than redesigning those systems, we’ve opted to demand that humans perform humanity more convincingly within inhospitable environments.

    It’s a bit like discovering your fish tank has no water, then addressing the problem by requiring the fish to give enthusiastic presentations about how they’re implementing innovative dry-breathing initiatives rather than, you know, adding water to the tank. “The handbook says ‘water is weakness’, Matthew, so get those fish working with air – it’s all we’ve got.”.

    Perhaps it’s time to acknowledge that authentic self-expression emerges naturally in environments designed around human needs.

    It doesn’t require facilitation, measurement, or optimisation.

    It simply appears when people feel genuinely secure, valued, and free from the pressure to perform aspects of themselves that should emerge organically or not at all.

    You know – the basics. Like your manager actually giving a shit about how you feel rather than what your happiness score is today.

    Until then, the next time your organisation invites you to “bring your authentic self to work,” perhaps the most authentic response is a politely raised eyebrow and the quiet recognition that your genuine self is not a corporate resource to be harvested but your own sovereign territory – portions of which you might occasionally lease to your employer under carefully negotiated terms, but never surrender to institutional ownership disguised as psychological liberation.

    After all, there’s something rather magnificently authentic about recognising when authenticity itself has become just another performance metric – and deciding, with quiet dignity, that some aspects of yourself deserve better stages on which to perform than the corporate authenticity theatre.

    This article originally appeared on my personal LinkedIn on April 10th, 2025. The link to the original article is located here: https://www.linkedin.com/pulse/authenticity-industrial-complex-how-being-yourself-matt-turvey-frsa-cqyze/?trackingId=jzhzJ%2BlCRPSJJesIJOhx%2Fg%3D%3D

  • The Uncomfortable Utility of Feeling Like a Fraud: Why Your Imposter Syndrome Might Actually Be Doing You a Solid

    Look, we need to have a deeply uncomfortable conversation about that persistent feeling that you’re somehow faking it whilst everyone else in the room has their proverbial shit neatly packed into labelled containers with colour-coded lids.

    You know the one. That low-grade psychic hum that whispers “they’re going to find you out any minute now” whilst you’re nodding sagely in a meeting about something called “strategic alignment” or “paradigm integration” or whatever linguistic mulch is being served in today’s corporate salad.

    Here’s the thing: we’ve collectively decided that this feeling – this imposter syndrome – is a bug in your psychological operating system rather than a feature. With that the internet, that magnificent producer of oversimplified solutions to complex human problems, has a ready prescription: “Just believe in yourself!” Which, as actionable advice, ranks somewhere between “just be happy” and “have you tried not being poor?”

    The Dubious Virtue of Unwavering Certainty

    Let’s consider for a moment the alternative to imposter syndrome. Not confidence – which is entirely compatible with nuanced self-assessment for the seventeen seconds I feel it in a calendar (or financial) year – but the complete absence of doubt. The absolute certainty that one’s knowledge is comprehensive and one’s skills are beyond reproach.

    Now, ask yourself: who are the people you’ve encountered in your professional life who possessed this quality? Who are the colleagues, managers, or public figures who’ve demonstrated unwavering certainty in their own competence?

    I’ll wait.

    If your experience resembles mine in even the slightest degree, you’ve just mentally assembled a rogues’ gallery of the most catastrophically incompetent individuals you’ve ever had the misfortune to share oxygen with. These are the people who’ve piloted projects into mountainsides whilst assuring everyone that turbulence is normal, and that the explosions are in your head.

    Who’ve set institutional money on fire whilst explaining that smoke is just another word for profit.

    Who’ve failed upward with the buoyancy of a helium-filled ego untethered from the gravitational pull of reality.

    The correlation is so consistent it might as well be a physical law: the more certain someone is of their competence, the more aggressively they’ll defend demonstrably terrible ideas when the consequences start arriving with the subtlety of a brick through a tastefully created stained-glass window of your preferred corporate deity.

    The Hidden Operating System of Doubt

    What if – and I’m just spitballing here – your imposter syndrome isn’t a malfunction? What if that nagging sense that you might not know everything necessary for the task at hand is actually your cognitive immune system functioning exactly as intended?

    Consider the alternative. Consider what happens when that system gets compromised.

    We all know That Guy™. The one who read half a Wikipedia article on a complex topic and is now explaining it with the conviction of someone who’s devoted three decades of focused study to the subject.

    The one who confuses having an opinion with having expertise.

    The one who mistakes volume and certainty for insight and accuracy.

    That Guy™ doesn’t have imposter syndrome, and nobody is better off for its absence.

    Your doubt – that uncomfortable, persistent questioning of whether you know enough or can do enough – creates the cognitive space necessary for continued growth. It maintains the gap between what you know and what remains to be learned. It prevents the terminal crystallisation of knowledge that ends in spectacular, confident failure.

    The “Just Believe!” Industrial Complex

    The internet drowns in advice about overcoming imposter syndrome, most of it amounting to some variation of “just believe in yourself harder.” This advice approaches psychological complexity with all the nuance of telling someone with clinical depression to “try smiling more” or instructing a person like me with chronic pain “have you considered not hurting?”. Yeah pal – I tried and, guess what, it’s still the same.

    This framing misunderstands both the phenomenon and its function. It assumes that doubt represents a defect rather than a calibration mechanism – one that prevents you from waltzing confidently into situations beyond your current capabilities with the carefree abandon of a toddler approaching an electrical socket with a fork.

    The problem isn’t the existence of doubt but its calibration. Too much, and you’re paralysed into inaction. Too little, and you’re a walking Dunning-Kruger graph with exceptionally poor risk assessment capabilities.

    The goal isn’t to eliminate doubt but to integrate it – to develop a working relationship with uncertainty that allows forward motion without delusion. This represents a far more sophisticated psychological task than “just believing in yourself,” which sounds suspiciously like advice from someone selling motivational posters featuring eagles and sunsets, whilst kneeling cross legged in tie-dyed attire.

    The Unexpected Virtue of Knowing What You Don’t Know

    Here’s the deeply unfashionable truth: knowing the limits of your knowledge and capability isn’t a weakness. It’s a metacognitive superpower in a world increasingly dominated by people who mistake confidence for competence.

    This awareness – this persistent questioning of what you know and can do – creates the necessary conditions for actual growth rather than the performance of expertise. It allows you to identify gaps in knowledge or skill before they become catastrophic failures. It enables you to ask questions when others are nodding along to avoid appearing uninformed.

    In a professional landscape increasingly resembling a confidence game in the most literal sense, this capacity becomes not a liability but an asset of considerable value. It allows you to:

    – Learn when others assume they already know

    – Question when others accept uncritically

    – Adapt when others remain rigid in their certainty

    – Grow when others have convinced themselves they’ve arrived

    None of which involves “just believing in yourself” more vigorously, and many of which add value that show your ability to “tell it like it is” is of a lot more value than the 17th nod in that room full of groupthink.

    The Arrogance Tax: What Certainty Costs Us

    The social premium placed on unwavering confidence has created environments where the appearance of certainty is rewarded above actual knowledge. This dynamic produces leaders who cannot acknowledge error, systems resistant to correction, and discourse increasingly unmoored from reality.

    We’ve all seen the consequences.

    Financial systems collapse because warning signs were dismissed by those too certain of their models.

    Companies implode because executives couldn’t admit they misunderstood market conditions.

    Political systems falter because leaders cannot acknowledge the complexity of problems facing their constituents.

    In each case, the absence of doubt – that quality we’re all supposed to be striving to eliminate – plays a central role in the eventual catastrophe.

    Meanwhile, those plagued by imposter syndrome are busy double-checking their work, seeking additional information, and considering alternative perspectives – activities that don’t exactly make for compelling LinkedIn humblebrags but tend to prevent spectacularly public failures. As many of my colleagues have commiserated from time to time – there’s some sort of privilege reserved for the rescue of a red project, and less clamour to thank the ones that never went even a yellowing shade of green.

    The Calibration Game: Making Friends with Your Doubt

    The challenge, then, isn’t to eliminate imposter syndrome but to calibrate it – to develop a working relationship with doubt that enables action without delusion.

    What might this actually look like in practice?

    First, it means recognising that confidence and certainty aren’t synonyms. Confidence allows you to act despite incomplete information; certainty precludes the possibility that such information could exist. The former enables progress; the latter ensures eventual collision with reality.

    Second, it involves distinguishing between doubt that prompts continued learning and doubt that prevents necessary action. The former expands capability; the latter constrains it unnecessarily. This distinction isn’t always immediately obvious and requires ongoing attention rather than one-time resolution.

    Third, it demands awareness of context – recognising when the social pressure for unwavering confidence might be pushing you toward certainty that exceeds your actual knowledge or capability. These moments require particular vigilance against the contagious certainty that often pervades professional environments.

    My hope is that I know when to say “I know what I’m talking about” versus “I like the idea of being seen as someone who knows what they are talking about regarding this popular topic”. The value lies is understanding which is which.

    None of this involves affirmations in the mirror or whatever self-help gurus are currently selling as the solution to the “problem” of not being sufficiently certain of your own brilliance. It mostly just requires being honest with ourselves as well as others. Imagine that?

    The Social Dimension: When “Just Believe” Becomes Gaslighting

    It’s worth noting that the experience of imposter syndrome doesn’t fall evenly across social categories. Research consistently demonstrates that women and members of marginalised groups experience imposter syndrome at higher rates – not because of inherent psychological differences but because they face greater scrutiny and more persistent questioning of their capabilities.

    In these contexts, the experience of imposter syndrome cannot be reduced to individual psychology but must be understood as responding to actual social dynamics that impose different standards for different groups. The prescription to “just believe in yourself” becomes particularly hollow when directed at those facing genuine structural barriers to recognition and advancement.

    It’s rather like telling someone they’re imagining the rain whilst refusing to acknowledge they’re the only person at the table who wasn’t given an umbrella. That sort of declaration serves to help nothing other than making the privileged look like they exploit the circumstances of those with less than them.

    What we need to do is shift the focus from trying to simply make individual psychological adjustments to creating institutional environments that recognise the value of intellectual humility and that distribute the burden of proof more equitably across social categories.

    The Integration Project: Making Doubt Your Ally

    The path forward doesn’t involve eliminating doubt but developing a more sophisticated relationship with uncertainty – one that recognises its value while preventing its transformation into paralysis.

    This integration requires moving beyond the binary thinking that frames imposter syndrome as either a weakness to be conquered or a badge of authentic humility to be celebrated. Instead, it suggests that our relationship with certainty about our capabilities requires ongoing calibration – adjusting to new information, different contexts, and evolving demands.

    It positions doubt not as an obstacle to success but as a necessary component of sustainable development – a form of cognitive friction that prevents both stagnation and delusion.

    This nuanced approach stands in stark contrast to the motivational poster simplicity of “just believe in yourself” – a prescription that, again, approaches the complexity of human cognition with all the sophistication of telling someone in a wheelchair to “just stand up and walk” because ambulatory people manage it without difficulty.

    The Uncomfortable Conclusion

    Perhaps, then, we might begin to recognise the uncomfortable utility of imposter syndrome – not as something to be overcome but as something to be integrated into a more balanced and sustainable relationship with our own capabilities and limitations.

    In a world where the most confidently wrong people seem to fail upward with remarkable consistency, perhaps your persistent doubt represents not a defect but a different kind of intelligence – one that acknowledges complexity, remains open to correction, and resists the seductive certainty that precedes catastrophic error.

    The question becomes not how to eliminate doubt but how to engage with it productively – how to maintain the humility necessary for continued growth while developing the confidence required for meaningful action. This balance represents a far more sophisticated psychological achievement than the elimination of doubt, and its development requires nuanced engagement rather than motivational platitudes.

    So the next time someone tells you to “just believe in yourself” as the antidote to imposter syndrome, perhaps consider that they’re prescribing the psychological equivalent of bloodletting – a treatment that misunderstands both the condition and its function, and that might leave you worse off than the original “ailment” ever did. If they do, maybe suggest trepanning to alleviate the spirits in their head that dreamed up their purported solution, and then debate how it might be as effective, or not as the case may be.

    In reality, your doubt might just be the most valuable thing about you in a world increasingly dominated by those who’ve eliminated it entirely from their psychological repertoire – usually with catastrophic consequences for everyone in their vicinity.

    Sometimes thinking you don’t know everything is far more valuable than trying to convince yourself – and others – that you do.

    This article was originally published on my personal LinkedIn profile on April 3, 2025. A direct link back to the original post can be found here – https://www.linkedin.com/pulse/uncomfortable-utility-feeling-like-fraud-why-your-you-turvey-frsa-fjewe/?trackingId=BmKLTjPfT8megNPPovceNA%3D%3D