The curse of knowledge
Behavioral New World
December 1, 2024
The curse of knowledge
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I think all of us have had the experience of tuning into a webinar or going to a public talk only to discover that, after a few minutes, we do not understand what the speaker is talking about. I’m not referring to academic or technical talks, but ones offered to a general audience. For example, at the college where I used to work (I am now retired), there were two annual lectures open to the public.
The phenomenon at hand, which I call “the curse of knowledge,” is the tendency of experts (broadly defined—more below) to talk above or around their audience. I believe that there are at least four causes of the curse of knowledge.
First, experts are so “far down the road” with their subject that they can’t remember what it is like to know nothing or very little about a topic. In my case, it is difficult to remember my introduction to Finance and how it felt to know nothing about the topic.
Second, experts often have an intuitive understanding of their subject which makes it difficult to understand how someone might be struggling to grasp a concept. In my case, when I was first introduced to something called the Time Value of Money, I understood it right away. But I’ve had many students who had to work hard to get their minds wrapped around this fundamental principle of Finance.
Third, experts often have different strengths and weaknesses than their audience. For example, I have an analytical mind, more so than the typical person (it was kinda required to be a Finance prof!). So it comes naturally for me to speak from an analytical viewpoint, even though that might not be the intellectual strength of the audience.
Fourth, specialized vocabulary can get in the way of good communication. “Just kite the mob, stack your buffs, and CC the adds during the DPS phase.” Huh?
So what can be done about the curse of knowledge? First, think about with whom you are trying to communicate (your audience). For example, last month I spoke about behavioral finance to a group of graduate students in engineering. They typically have analytical minds, so presenting logical arguments was not going to confuse them. But they knew very little about personal finance and I had to think, “What was it like for me in the beginning?”
Second, fully understand what you want to convey before opening your mouth. When I was advising Ph.D. students about their dissertations, I’d say, “How would you explain your research to your parents?” If they couldn’t, I felt that they didn’t deeply understand their research.[1]
In any sort of communication, there are two potential mistakes: 1) being too “expert” and hence not communicating well, or 2) being too straightforward, even simplistic. I think the second is the lesser mistake, though still a mistake. Of course, achieving just the right balance is the sweet spot we all should be aiming for.
Is the curse of knowledge important outside of academe? Yes! It applies anytime someone is trying to share their expertise or knowledge with others. I remember watching my first game of Australian rules football. A friend was explaining it to me. But what is a “footy?” What does “oval” refer to? Why is that a penalty and a seemingly similar action not? My friend was so familiar with the game, it was hard for him to imagine that I didn’t grasp it immediately.
Or imagine you are a parent trying to teach your teenager to drive a manual transmission. “Just let the clutch out slowly while stepping on the gas lightly. What’s so darn difficult about that? Hey, I’m getting whiplash here.” Didn’t you struggle when learning to drive “three on the tree”? (Well, maybe you’re not that old.)
To overcome the curse of knowledge regardless of your area of expertise, I suggest you follow the advice of Henry David Thoreau: “Simplify, simplify, simplify.” You can always “rachet up” the presentation if the audience is keeping up with you easily, but it is difficult to “rachet down” if you’ve already lost them.
[1] Richard Feynman, a Nobel prize-winning physicist, was a master explainer. Here’s a link to his “Fun to Imagine” series.
Indeed, it hooks the interests when experts simplify the content & still deliver substantive information. Thanks for prof. Richard Feynman’s talks. Goodness, so good!
I really liked the philosophy of Jack Schultz when he was head of the Bond Life Science Center. He made the scientists learn how to communicate their research to the public and I think added a required course in science communications to the Ph.D. program. In science you are roundly criticized if you are not exact in your writing and explanations, but the type of language that is required to communicate to your peers doesn't work when talking to the Rotary club, where the audience needs analogies that they can relate to, regardless of the precision.
Even the time value of money has its practical caveats--not all things will cost more in the future. Money and its equivalents are subject to all sort of other factors (we are just lucky here in the US to have a stable monetary system).
With great profs like Feynman (and you John), you are on the other side of complexity. Many others have not learned their field well enough to get to the other side. I think I am just now getting to the point that I understand computer systems well enough to explain them clearly. Here is a post that describes what I mean: https://www.jonkolko.com/writing/notes/simplicity-on-the-other-side-of-complexity
From the Post: "Frank later taught me a basic principle that I remember and reteach to my students. He called it "simplicity on the other side of complexity." Here's how he explained it.
Draw a basic bellcurve. From left to right is understanding, and up and down is complexity. At the left of the diagram, and at the beginning of taking on a new complex problem, you are blissfully naïve. Your descriptions of a topic are overly simplistic and reductive. They are based on assumptions, stacked on top of guesses, and are likely wrong and incomplete. You don't know what you don't know, and so when you talk about things with other people, you aren't able to fully engage.
To move to the right on the diagram, you start to experience things and learn. Your knowledge and insight grows as you become more and more of an expert. You see things from different perspectives, and you start to form an integrative whole. As you peak in the middle of the curve, you see the meaning in the data, and you've formed your own opinion about it. This means that, to some extent, you own the information—it's meaningful to you and so you can act on it.
But you can't necessarily communicate that information. You've integrated it for you, but that doesn't mean you've distilled it down to a meaningful, concise story for someone else, someone still at the left side of the curve. And as Frank described, the top of the curve is the unfortunate place where people typically try to explain complex ideas. Because they have all of the data, they think other people need all of the data, and so they drop a massive document or spreadsheet on everyone else. Maybe they orate an endless meeting. Often, the audience leaves more confused than when they started.
But keep moving to the right on the simplicity curve. Continue to experience things, to find that meaning in the data, and to revise and recast your opinion. Because at the right of the curve is simplicity, again. This is simplicity on the other side of complexity. It's where you've not only been able to synthesize the content into your own worldview, but you've discerned the essence of the idea in such a simple, direct way that you can communicate it to other people. And you can communicate it in a way that people with little or no knowledge of the subject matter can then themselves move along their curve, moving to the right.
The place you land on the right—the simplicity on the other side of complexity—is often super obvious in retrospect. That's sort of the point: it's made obvious to others because you did the heavy lifting of getting through the mess."