A few weeks ago, Outside magazine published a feature I wrote for them about a tragedy that occurred in the Swiss Alps last spring. A professionally guided group of ski tourers (a type of backcountry skiing that involves multi-day treks across mountain ranges, combining telemark and downhill skiing with crampon-aided uphill climbs) ended up being caught out overnight in a bad storm. Seven of the 10 skiers in the group, including the professional guide, died. And although it’s difficult to piece together complete answers with so few survivors, it appears that the guide, despite having an expert resume, made multiple errors in planning and judgment that led to that tragic outcome.
But what made the event even more tragic—and perplexing—was the fact that all 8 of the paying skiers in the group were expert skiers and ski tourers in their own right. If they’d so chosen, all of them probably could have navigated the trip without a professional guide. They hired a guide to relieve some of the workload of planning and navigating, and to make the logistics of hut reservations and arrangements easier. But in the hiring of a professional “expert” to guide them, the skiers also seem to have relinquished their own role in decision-making, trusting that the guide knew better than they did and was looking at all the variables correctly.
It’s a temptation that exists in any area of our lives where we solicit the advice of people who supposedly know more than we do. Human factors researchers call it the “expert halo”—a hazard that arises when, because we assume experts have the answers, we stop doing the gut checks we normally would about any given situation. And it can happen in any number of situations, from adventure and medicine to professional ventures, creative visions, and life choices.
In truth, it can be difficult to stand up to someone who has the standing of an expert and question their advice or opinion. Especially if they don’t take kindly to being questioned. That’s part of the problem. But another part stems from the doubts we harbor within ourselves about what we know, especially in the face of someone who has some professional or credentialed standing that signals training, experience, or knowledge beyond our own. We might have done a lot of backcountry hiking or skiing, but we’re not a guide. We might have read a lot of articles about a particular disease, and have carefully tracked our own body’s symptoms and reactions, but we haven’t gone to medical school. We might have a compelling vision for a new business idea or creative piece of work, but we’re not a venture capitalist or a major producer/publisher. And frequently, that underlying awareness of the expert’s superior position, combined with the air of confident authority with which those experts often dispense their advice or direction, cowers us into silencing whatever voice of protest or questioning our gut might raise.
But here’s the glaring flaw in that thinking that the tragedy in the Alps highlighted so painfully and clearly: just because someone has professional training or experience doesn’t mean they’re necessarily or always right. For one thing, even well-trained people make mistakes. A full 85% of accidents in general aviation are due to pilot error. There are so many ways that experts can end up making bad calls or mistakes that human factors researchers have categorized them into “heuristics” —short-cuts and assumptions in thinking that, while sometimes useful, can also get people in trouble.
Being an “expert,” for example, can keep us from looking at a situation with the open-minded eyes of a beginner. As a result, because we conclude we’ve seen this before and already know the right response, we can actually miss important differentiating details. Or, we can under-estimate the risks of a new situation, because other people have survived it, or we’ve safely gotten out of similar-seeming situations before. In business applications, our expertise about what’s worked in the past—or what seems to be working for others—can make us too confident about those approaches being “the” answer that works, causing us to miss opportunities to see a new or different way forward.
What’s more, no amount of education can give someone complete and guaranteed knowledge and answers on a subject—especially in fields where subjectivity plays a role in outcomes, or in areas humans are still exploring or don’t fully understand. And yet, experts can cling to their cherished knowledge and theories so resolutely that the writer Thomas S. Kuhn, in his seminal 1962 book The Structure of Scientific Revolutions, concluded that old scientists often have to retire or die before new theories can emerge to move knowledge and understanding forward.
In addition to an over-reliance on established theories, protocols or approaches, there’s also the question of focus. A doctor, for example, might be correct that full-force screening and aggressive treatment might be the best approach to keep any potential problem from being missed. But what’s often neglected in those discussions or recommendations is the question of “At what cost?” Not just the financial cost, but the cost of side-effects, unnecessary invasive procedures, over-treatment or over-medication, potential risks incurred, and overall quality of life impacts. For any given patient, the possible benefit for carpet-bombing their body with screening or treatment might not outweigh the side-costs of those procedures. And that’s without taking into account the fact that what works for one patient might not even work for another. Or that a symptom which often stems from problem “A” can actually be caused by something completely different in a second patient. Or, while we’re at it, that we don’t actually know all the answers about disease progression: about which tumors or patients, for example, really do need chemotherapy in order for their disease not to be fatal.
The point is, there’s a fine line to be navigated, in weighing our own knowledge and judgment against that of an “expert.” If we’re hiring a guide or doctor, or seeking the advice of business professionals—assuming we’ve done some due diligence to reassure ourselves that they’re at least well-trained and knowledgeable—it behooves us to listen carefully to what they say. They undoubtedly know things we don’t, and they very well might be right in what they advise. But at the same time, we need to listen carefully to what we know, and what we think and feel in response. Experts may know their field of study better than we do. But they can be wrong, and they can make mistakes. And what we clearly know better than anyone else is ourselves: our bodies, our priorities, our risk tolerance levels, and the unique value and potential power of our own voice and vision.
It’s always easier to rely on experts and just trust that they’re right. But there are hazards involved in that approach. If those skiers in the Alps had sought more independent information and had participated more in the decision-making process, instead of simply trusting their “expert” guide, it’s likely they’d still be alive. And that principle applies to many other situations. An entrepreneur or creative person would be foolish not to solicit input from experts and more experienced professionals in their field. But if they simply follow the advice of everyone who offers it, they might very well end up with a creation-by-committee mess. So they need to weigh whatever advice they’re given against their own gut, instinct, and vision, and decide if the advice strengthens their idea while preserving its essential vision, or, instead, changes it beyond recognition. If we believe in our voice or vision, we need to pause before surrendering that vision to the opinions or conventional wisdom of experts. Maybe they’re right, in terms of what will be successful in the market. But then again … maybe they’re wrong.
Staying true to ourselves, or following a vision or path that feels authentic to us, is far more difficult than following what others have laid out as the path to success. And part of the reason it’s difficult is that at times, being “ourselves” means following what our gut, heart, or inner voice tells us is right for us, even when “experts” advise differently. The trick is figuring out when and how much to listen to others, versus when and how much to listen to ourselves.
In many ways, it’s like the serenity prayer made famous by Alcoholics Anonymous that says, “God grant me the strength to change what can be changed; the serenity to accept what cannot be changed, and the wisdom to know the difference.” To bring our best selves into the world, we need to have the humility and sense to listen to and heed experts’ advice when that advice feels right or helpful; the strength to depart from that advice when it clashes with something that feels right or important within us, and the wisdom to figure out the right mix between the two.
