Reading · The Stand Up Philosopher: Weighty Musings, Lightly Served

Last week I got into an Uber on 24th Street. Driver’s name was Dmitri.

By the time we hit the Midtown Tunnel, Dmitri had explained to me:

Why my lower back hurt (I sit wrong)
Why my outfit wasn’t working (a wrap dress I love)
What’s really going on with the economy (something something interest rates)

Dmitri had opinions. Strong ones. He had the unshakable certainty of a man who has never said the words “I don’t know.”

As I sat in the back of his Camry, watching him wave his hand at the skyline while explaining monetary policy, I thought: “I wish I was as confident as Dmitri.”

Then I remembered something that explained Dmitri’s confidence. A quirky phenomenon. Once I tell you about this, you’re going to start spotting it everywhere.

It explains exactly why people who don’t know what the heck they’re talking about wind up wildly confident. And true experts spend half their time feeling like frauds.

The Dunning-Kruger Effect is named after two researchers named David Dunning and Justin Kruger. They created an interesting study where they gave people tests in logic, grammar, and humor.

Then they asked everyone, “Hey… how do you think you did?”

The result?

People who scored in the BOTTOM 12% of performance (meaning the WORST) thought they performed FAR ABOVE AVERAGE.

Yes, the DUMBEST people thought they were SMARTER than MOST people.

And the SMART people? They thought they were only about AVERAGE.

Here’s what Dunning and Kruger determined.

The thing you need to be good at something? It’s the SAME thing you need to know in order to figure out if you’re good at something.

For example… If you don’t know the difference between a good sentence and a bad sentence, you cannot tell that your own sentences are bad. You will write a bad sentence and feel fantastic about it. You will post it. You will embroider it on a pillow.

Meanwhile, the person who has spent 20 years learning what makes a sentence work can barely get through an email without revising it 8 times, and then apologizing for the delay.

You are, in a very real and scientifically documented sense, too dumb to know you’re dumb.

A quick story from my own life, from last year when I had a rash. My doctor looked at it and immediately saw 27 possibilities for it. Everything from A to Z. She then announced, “I’m not quite sure what that rash is.”

Meanwhile my friend Margo looked at my rash and confidently told me, “Obviously that’s an allergic reaction.” Because Margo only knew things from A to A.

So in the end it’s not that stupid people are confident.

It’s that stupidity can actually lead to accidentally creating overconfidence.

It’s why your aunt, who read one article about vaccines, now feels qualified to debate immunology at Thanksgiving.

It’s why a man who has never given birth can have so very, very many opinions about birth.

And it’s why my Uber driver Dmitri felt confidently equipped to share his opinions on wrap dresses to a stranger in a Toyota Camry.

It’s like the universe’s most annoying practical joke. Ignorance creates confidence, while knowledge creates doubt.

The algorithm often serves us the most confident amateurs in our feeds. Because bold opinions are magnetic and tend to get more engagement.

Meanwhile many actual experts (scientists, specialists, PhD’s) are posting careful, nuanced, correct content to audiences of about 412 people.

Social media doesn’t reward being correct. It rewards being certain. And certainty, as we have now established, does not always equal smart or right.

In a democracy, the person who wins is usually the person who sounds most sure of themselves. But, sounding sure of yourself is not necessarily a sign that you know what you’re talking about. So we end up electing people who promise simple solutions to problems they don’t fully understand.

And to voters, simple and confident tends to beat complicated and honest. Especially in a 30 second ad.

A thoughtful candidate who understands how hard things are to fix. They hedge. They say, “Well, it’s a complicated system, and there are trade-offs to consider.”
A cocky candidate who doesn’t understand the system all that well. They don’t hedge. They promise the moon.

Unfortunately a majority of voters will pick the candidate who promises the moon. Because the moon sounds far better than “well, it’s complicated and there are trade-offs.”

In a way we’ve built a political system where the more you actually know, the worse you sound. And so this system punishes the more educated people who know how complicated things are. And rewards the people who don’t.

We kind of need the Dmitris of the world. At first glance that sounds ridiculous. But here’s why.

If every human on Earth had an accurate sense of how little they knew… and how hard stuff is… NOTHING would ever get built. Nobody would ever start a business, write a sitcom, have a child, or go on a second date. Because every great thing in human history (every book, invention, breakthrough) was started by someone who had their head in the clouds.

Thankfully some of those “head in the clouds” people invented things like the cure for polio.

And did you know that the Wright Brothers were bike repairmen? They didn’t have a formal education in aerodynamics. They had no business inventing airplanes.

Plus there’s Columbus, who was by his own navigational estimates, wildly confused about where he was going. However, if he had fully understood just how confused he was about oceans, he would’ve stayed home.

I myself, if we’re being honest, would not have written my first published book if I had known how hard it was going to be. I was twenty-something, I had a fun idea for a novel, and I was unreasonably certain I could do it.

Was I qualified? No. Had I earned the confidence? Absolutely not. Did the confidence somehow carry me through until I figured it out? Yes, and I am grateful for it.

Basically, our world needs some of that delusion and bluster. Because a lot of civilization runs on misplaced self-esteem. God bless it.

Two things.

When you are scrolling your phone and somebody in a backwards baseball cap with a podcast mic starts talking to you with enviable confidence about how they’ve figured out the economy… or your hormones… or wrap dresses as a fashion choice.

STOP.

Then ask yourself: “Does this person actually know… or do they just SOUND like they know?”

Next immediately remind yourself: Confidence is not the same as competence. And it never has been. The algorithm has perhaps trained us to confuse them. But they are not the same thing. And the more regularly we remember that, the better off we’ll be.

When you are sitting in a meeting or at a dinner party and everyone around you is sounding SO sure of themselves. And you feel that little voice in your head say: “I don’t know if I should chime in. I see some things I disagree with. But I don’t know if I have the right to speak up.”

STOP.

Then ask yourself THIS question. “What if I’m the only one here who actually knows how complicated this topic is… and that’s why I’m the quieter one?”

Next immediately remind yourself: Your doubt is a credential. Your hesitation is a “tell” that you recognize how nuanced things are. That is what knowing something feels like.

So speak up. Raise your hand. Say the thing.

You might know more than you think… and they might know less than they sound like they know.

Because the confident people are often bluffing.

And the unsure people are often the experts.

Think of it as applause, but quieter.

Here’s my ❤️ back to you for doing that!

→Does this essay ring true for you? Thoughts?

→Did this essay make you think of a specific person?
Don’t name them. Just tell me about a Dmitri in your life.

→What’s something you’ve secretly gotten really good at over the years
but still feel weird calling yourself an expert in? Claim your expertise below!

Why Idiots Are Often Confident & Smart People Feel Like Frauds

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