In Pursuit of Perfection

I recently went for dinner with one of the most successful editors in our country. She arrived in a pair of very expensive high heels, her perfume carrying a note of sandalwood, and her hair styled to perfection. She sat down, her movements - measured and poised. The conversation was slow, but pleasant. Then, two glasses of wine later, she confidently made a statement that I knew would spark a debate.?

She didn't believe in formal education.

My mind baulked. "Education? The cornerstone of society, and you don't believe in it," I thought to myself. She didn't even try to argue her point, which was surprising for a seasoned editor of her calibre.?

As someone with the highest level of formal education, I was deeply upset by her ideas. But, an even more upsetting thing was that deep down, this also brought back all of my own conflicting feelings about my PhD.

It can be said that doing (and especially finishing a PhD) has similarities to being a vegan and of course - doing cross fit:

1. You want everyone to know about it.?
2. It can be really, really hard.

Yes, it's a lonely process. Yes, you experience back pain, coffee addiction, emotional rollercoasters, some forced learning. You grapple with a newfound fear of the future (stay in academia or not?), and perhaps most frightening, the terrifying possibility that your work, after 350 grueling pages, will forever remain unnoticed.

But, there is one thing no one ever talks about - how doing a PhD can really impact your confidence (yes, negatively).

I remember being in the class one day when our professor asked the question. I raised my hand and gave them my response. My feelings of self-assurance lasted for about 2 seconds. The professor simply followed by, "Thanks. Any other responses?"

I just gave them the response. How could there be more than 2 right responses; different opinions or dare I even start this - conflicting truths??

When everything can be improved, it means you are constantly under scrutiny. Your ideas and thoughts challenged left and right, solutions are deconstructed, and you're asked questions that only lead to, you guessed it, more questions.

This relentless pursuit of perfection creates this elusive truth that just seems to perpetually slip away.

The urge to chase certainty becomes overwhelming. "If only I read one more paper," you think, "or if I had just 10 more participants, perhaps I'd be more sure, more secure, more clever about this."

But, even constructive criticism is still - criticism. And that constant feeling that you could do better and that you’re barely scratching the surface of world knowledge can really impact your self-beliefs. Like a real cliche, I felt the more I knew, the less I knew. I almost missed my 20’s arrogance where I was convinced I knew the world and the world was just about to get to know me.

I often see this Dunning Kruger effect in the world of business - in a room full of people, those who have something really clever to say don’t say it because they are afraid they are ‘not right enough’. I found myself in a whole new world (post my PhD) where being clever was just not going to cut it. You also had to be confident about it.?

So, what did I say to my fabulous editor when she said she didn’t believe in education? I said:?

‘That’s an interesting perspective. Why do you believe that?’

My own PhD, despite its challenges, also equipped me to have these kinds of nuanced conversations. So maybe, that's the true value of education - not blind acceptance, but constant learning. Learning - even how to conquer your own biases and newly found limitations.

And, of course, knowing that if you can’t say anything nice…

You can always say it as a question.