Admission and Correction, but Never Shame
Monday, December 17, 2012
Ben Kamens of the Khan Academy writes the kind of
piece I wish I had encountered when I was just out of college. He describes a phenomenon he has repeatedly observed, and offers his
explanation for its causes:
I've noticed that the most mature and accomplished developers I've worked with are also those who most frequently say "I don't understand" when they're listening to a technical explanation.He adds that many new developers don't realize how common it is not to have fully wrapped one's mind around a problem upon first encountering it.
...
In one way, it's counterintuitive. Shouldn't the senior devs already know everything? But it makes a lot of sense. Those who are most secure in their own abilities are the most comfortable to admit when they haven't fully wrapped their minds around something. Newer devs assume that their confusion is their own fault. They don't want to interrupt others due to their own perceived shortcomings. [bold added]
What he observes is hardly a phenomenon of software development alone, or even of technology alone. I would hazard to guess that, on top of what Kamens observes, many people also don't grasp how common it is for people to act as if they do understand all manner of things that they really don't. (The more you understand a field, the easier it is to see this.)
Many times in my professional life, but especially right out of college, the simple admission on my part that I did not feel like I yet understood something new well enough was taken in completely the opposite way that it should have been: People reacted as if I were admitting a lack of self-confidence! The context of a question-and-answers period after a presentation provides one of the more glaring examples of the problem, but I noticed the same thing if, say, I couched an answer in something like, "Well, to the best of my knowledge, this is true, but to be really sure, I'd need to know ..."
Kamens is absolutely correct that a big part of the problem is the fact that we can only guess about what other people in the same room might be thinking (and so wrongly extrapolate general understanding due to a dearth of questions). I think there might also be a cultural element involved, as well. For example, one person I knew professionally simply could not stand my refusal to just guess and project confidence when I knew that what I actually had was just a good first stab at an answer. Over time, he revealed himself to be envious of people who have actual knowledge. For example, once when, in intellectually familiar territory for the first time in a while at a new job, I took him aside and corrected something he said, and explained why I was right. He belittled me on the spot and, I noticed, went on as if I had said nothing, repeating his earlier mistake some time later. (Incredibly to me at the time, he did this in such a way as to rub it in.) Such deliberate attempts to stifle honesty are usually more subtle ("You mean you don't know this?") and, I am afraid, much more common than they ought to be. I encounter things suspiciously like this quite often.
What the Kamens piece does, in addition to raising the issue, is provide encouragement to people who really are interested in understanding the world they live in. Kamen provides two valuable pieces of information: (1) The best people have questions all the time; and (2) Too many people are content to either take things at face value too easily or remain satisfied with a woozy, approximate, "understanding" after hearing something. Don't underestimate yourself or overestimate others just because you have raised a question that they haven't.
Your questions do not make you dumber than everyone else, and you may well be one of the sharper knives in the drawer. More people, especially the young, need to hear just that.
-- CAV
8 comments:
Gus,
I've noticed that when I reveal I'm a scientist, most people expect me to know everything even if the subject is not really related to my field.
When I answer, I don’t know, I usually get a rather surprised response as if they were looking for validation from an expert. I typically don’t say anything like; ‘this is my best guess.’ Unless I feel I can add something valuable to the discussion.
For example, I once endured a diatribe from a lady against AGW; then when she asked me my opinion, I simply replied that I did not understand the field well enough to make an informed response. She was not happy.
Steve,
Yes. It is frustrating to talk about science with most people for this reason, and doubly so when they've been listening to a charlatan "scientist" who plays that stereotype for all it's worth. Then, you end up looking wishy-washy or, worse, like an idiot when you don't have an answer for whatever cherry-picked literature they might be familiar with, but which you haven't even thought about.
Regarding AGW, even though I, too, am agnostic on whether it's happening, I do at least try to convey the idea that "the government ought to do something" still would not follow from it actually occurring.
Gus
That's a good point about AGW Gus since it serves two purposes; conveying an actual true premise about the role of government as well as switching the topic to something in which you have thought about extensively and do have a good answer.
In the particular case I spoke of, I’m pretty sure the lady had the typical conservative attitude of: “The government shouldn’t do anything because global warming isn’t happening.”
More interesting is the opposite premise; what if it was absolutely proven that a manmade disaster was on the way – as opposed to say a non-manmade threat such as a meteor strike (in which I do believe the government should have a role).
Yo, Gus, you write, "It is frustrating to talk about science with most people for this reason, and doubly so when they've been listening to a charlatan "scientist" who plays that stereotype for all it's worth." I've certainly got enough anecdotes about that, but they're really not any different from what you have experienced, I'm sure. In any case, the big matter for me is whether it's honest curiosity or all tied up with jockeying for status. If it's a status play I opt out quickly.
Alas, you find status plays everywhere. For example, when I worked at a used bookstore as a grad student I was amazed at the number of times customers would try to provoke micturition matches with me. I mean, yeah, I knew in the abstract that bookstores attract some very sad-case sad-sack, but man oh man alive. (The best such story? The best I can recall is once, a young woman asked me with a real uptilt of the nose and sneer in her voice why we didn't have any Flaubert in stock--pronounced, alas, FLAW-bert. I thought for a second and then pointed to the bookshelf immediately behind her devoted to translated fiction, "It's there, fourth shelf down," as her boyfriend said, "Uh, honey, it's flow-BEAR." She blushed bright red but quickly said, "Oh, I didn't think he'd know who I was talking about." I just said, "Well, I didn't at first," which provoked another deep blush.)
Trouble is, that's all too common in academia as well, especially among the woollier, emptier, vapider undisciplines. That's a danger of hanging out in coffee shops, as I did so often as I was writing my dissertation: You might end up next to a study session of three grad students interested in gender studies and cultural studies. (Yes, that happened. They were going on and on about some essay of surpassing brilliance on the supposed pervasiveness of the idea of nature's abhorrence of a vacuum in 17th century European art and culture, and one of the examples mentioned was the alleged fact that there could be no empty spaces in any of the lines of 17th century classical music like the concerto grosso. This is nonsense, especially for that particular form. Indeed, I later that day encountered a musician-slash-musicologist who worked in the early music program at the school of music, and when I asked him if there might have been some contemporary music-theoretical precept that had gotten garbled in the telling, he said no, there was nothing like that.) Or you might sit next to some pair of young academics on a first date. Academic status jockeying performed as a dance of seduction is the worst.
Steve,
I presume, in the case of an asteroid, that you are thinking of the government firing a missile at it.
My first hunch is that that's fine, but I haven't actually thought that through.
Snedcat,
"Academic status jockeying performed as a dance of seduction is the worst."
Or most hilarious.
Gus
Gus; yes something like that. There may be no other option since only the government would have this capability. I haven’t thought it through either; perhaps this is a case where it’s not specifically the government’s proper role, but it is not violating anyone’s rights either. Alternatively, it’s a simple case of self-defense in an emergency by whoever has the means.
A similar situation might be if a police officer were to see an unarmed person getting attacked by a bear – is he going to stand around and let it happen because no crime is being committed and the person should have been armed anyway, or should he just shoot the bear using a government-funded bullet. In this case he is perhaps acting simply as a citizen rather than an officer of the state.
There is a different argument that if global warming is proven to be real, burning carbon could constitute a violation of another person’s rights. For example if you had beach front property and the sea level were to rise because of polar melting caused by CO2 emissions. Of course the responsibility for the problem diffuses through a complex causal web over millions of individuals and could never be clearly delineated.
Yo, Gus, you reply:
"Academic status jockeying performed as a dance of seduction is the worst."
Or most hilarious.
It is that, most certainly. Yep-indeedy and yeah-buddy. I still remember some of it--though after a couple of minutes I put on my headphones and listened to my music very loudly.
But yeah, the guy started with something along the lines of "Yes, I've long been fascinated by the figure of the 'Renaissance Man.'" My first thought was, "Yes, in the same way that no doubt you're fascinated by hard work--you could watch it for hours!"
My second thought was that it sounded like a model for a pretentious and unsuccessful admissions essay, and I wanted to say to him, "Ooh, good luck getting in."
And my third thought was, "You know, if you really were a Renaissance Man, you wouldn't be chasing girls." Not necessarily though--the joke in 17th century Europe was that a Spanish husband need not be jealous if his wife takes an Italian lover, for neither man would ever intrude on the other's territory.
And instead of getting to know each other's tastes and personalities, they soon launched into who their choice professors were. That is, rather than revealing their personalities or discussing ideas, they discussed the personalities of other people. Truly and veritably, a latter-day Bogart and Bacall!
Snedcat,
Oh, yes. It's hilarious -- but in very small doses, as you point out.
Steve,
I've heard a similar argument made in favor of global warming being a proper object of government intervention. I think, though, that the minuteness of an individual's contribution and the slowness of the changes make the threat so small and so remote that it does not qualify as an objective threat.
Gus
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