The Curse of Knowledge: The Danger of Studying Too Much
How to Prevent Studies from Turning You into a Fool
On my way to the bus stop, I could see the bus approaching from about 200 meters away, even before the sun rose around 5:30 in the morning. If I ran fast enough, I could still make it on time. In total, my commute to work, which involved a train and another bus for the final stretch, took three hours a day. In my backpack, I used to carry three books at the same time until I bought a Kindle. I remember trying to peel off what I thought was a protective paper covering the screen of the new device, only to realize it was the Kindle itself, already on, with its screen that perfectly mimics paper.
My commute routine to work was the same as countless people who lived in Mauá, a small town, and worked in the capital of São Paulo in Brazil. My mother did this for over forty years, and I did for just ten, as the standard sermon of Mrs. Claudia changed my life:
You need to study to be someone in life, when I was your age I washed clothes by the river to buy my books.
I grew up hearing this phrase every week. And I confess, I didn’t like to study. I discovered my mother was right when I landed my first job: I was the oldest in a group of thirty interns, all smarter than me. Almost all of them had studied at a prestigious school in the capital before joining the best universities in Brazil. I felt I had no chance to stand out unless I “made up for lost time.” It was in this pursuit that books became a fundamental part of my life.
Twenty years and more than a hundred books later, I find myself reflecting on a transformative journey. Books, those steadfast companions, have the power to reshape our lives in unexpected ways. Today, I share this odyssey, revealing how, at times, even the pursuit of knowledge can lead us down surprising paths, sometimes even altering us in ways we didn’t anticipate — and not always for the better. This narrative isn’t just about the books themselves, but about the profound impact they’ve had on my life, in all its nuanced complexities
Awakening critical sense
My story with books begins with philosophy. I am the type of person who wants to understand the “why” of things. In school, I struggled with teachers who just passed on content, but did well with those who explained the “why” behind things. And what other discipline seeks to explain everything, even the inexplicable?
An article from the Association of Internet Research Specialists reveals that philosophy is more than just old books and complex theories. It’s an intellectual adventure, inviting readers to embark on a journey of questioning and critical thinking. Imagine philosophy as a mental gym, where instead of lifting weights, you’re lifting ideas, challenging your mind to flex and grow. This fresh perspective transforms philosophy from a mere academic pursuit into a dynamic catalyst for profound reflection.
Philosophy led me to rhetoric and logic. I had mathematical logic in University, but always found it too abstract. It’s not hard to understand the mechanics of the Truth Table, but why are things this way?
A book titled “Introduction to Logic” by Irving M. Copi, clarified the subject by addressing it at the level of everyday language. To this day, I often employ paradoxical syllogistic reasoning to show people that we are not as logical as we think.
Syllogistic reasoning:
- All men are mortal.
- Socrates is a man.
- Therefore, Socrates is mortal.
Paradoxical syllogistic reasoning:
- Everything that is rare is costly.
- A good cheap car is rare.
- Therefore, a good cheap car is costly.
“Therefore, a good cheap car is costly?” How is this possible? When we encounter such a contradictory conclusion, we know something is wrong. Yet, often we reason in equally flawed ways, and because the conclusion doesn’t seem absurd, it goes unnoticed. I usually use these syllogistic arguments to demonstrate that our rationality has its limitations.
But philosophy was a passion that quickly passed. I delved into the texts of classic philosophers like Immanuel Kant, but after spending three days trying to understand the first pages of the “Critique of Pure Reason”, I realized it wasn’t for me, especially when I learned that Albert Einstein had devoured Kant’s work by the age of ten.
“I don’t want to be rich, I don’t care at all.” That was the second most repeated phrase by my mother. Growing up hearing this, I really didn’t care about money. In my first two jobs, I asked my mother to donate 100% of my salary, and for four consecutive years, I handed over 80% of my earnings to her, especially after my father’s business bankruptcy left him unable to regain a similar income. Even after moving out, I paid for my sister’s physiotherapy college. But today, is money important to me? Yes! Very important. And my view on this changed after reading “Rich Dad Poor Dad”.
Why Knowing More Doesn’t Always Mean Earning More
“Rich Dad Poor Dad” by Robert T. Kiyosaki is an influential book that offers a revolutionary view on personal finance, highlighting a positive, proactive approach to money. The book challenges conventional thinking by encouraging readers to transcend the “rat race” mentality, a vicious cycle of working for money without achieving true financial freedom.
Kiyosaki emphasizes the importance of becoming financially literate, urging people to learn how money works, to invest, and to create passive income streams, rather than solely relying on a paycheck. He criticizes the mindset of many employees who often feel exploited by their bosses, arguing that this limited view hinders financial and personal growth (I used to be that kind of employee). Instead, he proposes that individuals take responsibility for their financial health, seeking financial education and investment opportunities to build wealth.
Many of my colleagues perceive me as intelligent, yet this notion, rather than being a compliment, has troubled me for years. I observed individuals, seemingly less intelligent, earning substantially more. This realization brought me back to a pivotal lesson from ‘Rich Dad Poor Dad’: to earn money, one must learn the art of making it. Today, I understand that mere intellectual knowledge is not enough; one must also grasp the distinct and practical rules of the market to truly attract wealth. Do I still want to be rich? Yes, although I know I don’t need it, and perhaps neither do you.
Recent studies suggest that happiness gains from income plateaued at around $100,000 annually in the United States. While financial stability is a well-being factor, other elements such as work-life balance, meaningful relationships, and personal achievements are essential for a fulfilling life. Thus, for many Americans, chasing extreme wealth isn’t necessary for a full life. Happiness and quality of life are often more connected to these intangible factors than to mere wealth accumulation. For instance, having two full days off at the weekend was comparable to the effect of a significant income increase.
But it took me more than twenty years after reading “Rich Dad Poor Dad” to understand better why my mother had that stance towards money. Catholicism, a friend (Edivan Teixeira) said in a bar conversation last year, takes a vow of poverty. If you pay attention to the speeches we hear in Catholic churches, they all convey a negative connotation regarding money — he added. Even under the influence of a few drinks, this made a lot of sense.
An unexpected side effect of my quest for knowledge through books was a worldview shift between me and my mother. Our divergent views on money are nothing compared to the shake-up that reading “The Selfish Gene” had on my religious life.
What is altruism?
In “The Selfish Gene”, Richard Dawkins discusses the example of the Thomson’s gazelle, which leaps vertically into the air with all four feet simultaneously, often when a predator like a lion or cheetah is nearby. At first glance, this might seem like an act to draw the predator in, allowing the rest of the herd to flee. However, most of the time, the leaping gazelle escapes. This behavior, known as “stotting,” is interpreted as a signal to predators that the gazelle is alert and will be difficult to catch.
The idea is that by demonstrating its physical fitness so evidently, the gazelle discourages the predator from pursuing it, as the predator recognizes that it would be a waste of energy to try to catch such an agile and alert animal. Dawkins argues that this behavior, though seemingly altruistic or counterproductive at first, actually benefits the individual (in this case, the gazelle) by increasing its chances of survival.
The argument in “The Selfish Gene” is quite provocative. Starting from the principle that our greatest good is life and considering that the only thing capable of overcoming death is the gene, Dawkins wrote an incredible book that makes us believe all altruistic behavior is, at its core, selfish from the gene’s perspective.
For my mother, going to church to attend mass is an act of giving. To be deserving of all that one wishes for, you must give to God and the Church. But after reading Richard Dawkins’ “The Selfish Gene”, I’ve never seen altruism the same way again. I know I would give my life for my wife and daughter. But when I think about it, something tells me it’s my genes telling me that by doing so, I ensure that my daughter will be well cared for by her mother, thereby increasing the chances of her passing my gene forward.
Reflecting on my faith, I find resonance in the words of Albert Einstein:
There are only two ways to live your life. One is as though nothing is a miracle; the other is as though everything is a miracle.
As you dedicate yourself to this story, a miracle is happening in the cosmos. In this short interval, we will have traveled together approximately 44,800 kilometers around the sun, which is equivalent to more than one complete trip around the Earth’s circumference, which is about 40,075 kilometers. I hope you are enjoying.
I know few people who have read “The Selfish Gene,” and even fewer who are aware that the term “meme” originated from this book. Richard Dawkins introduced the concept of a “meme” in “The Selfish Gene” to describe how cultural ideas and behaviors spread and evolve among people, much like genetic transmission in biology. A meme can be a song, an idea, a slogan, or even a fashion style, propagating from person to person within a culture. Dawkins posits that just as the most adapted genes survive in biological evolution, the most effective memes in replication and memory tend to persist and spread in human culture.
By 2010, having spent 10 years in the technology field, I was aware that I had grown much more professionally than the other smart interns who studied at the best universities in Brazil. By then, I had also read books on object-oriented programming, compilers, refactoring, and several other technical books that made me unbearable at work. Everything was wrong, nothing was like what I learned, and I experienced something that happens to many studious people: the “Expert’s Disillusionment.”
The Expert’s Disillusionment
In 2013, Four Square was ruling the digital world. My colleagues and I, experts in the field, considered it technically deficient. Inspired by Malcolm Gladwell’s “The Tipping Point,” I envisioned a social app focused on genuine promotions, in contrast to the frequent dishonesty in the market.
Our idea was simple: users would share verified deals, motivated by a gamification system that allowed them to enrich their profiles as deal experts. After a year of development and refinement, our app, technically superior to Four Square, was launched. Expectations were high, especially after a feature in Mac Magazine, a famous website in Brazil, attracted 2000 users in a few hours.
However, weeks later, our promotions database remained empty. The lack of user engagement was a cold shower. Without exploring beyond our technical knowledge, we gave up months later.
Simultaneously, I faced a productivity block at work. Projects stagnated before completion, influenced by my perfectionism. The design was never good enough, the code could always be better, and even the company CEO didn’t know anything.
One day, I was invited to lunch with an experienced advisor, a former president of a major company in Brazil, and the CEO of the company where I worked. The chosen venue was one of the most sophisticated restaurants in São Paulo, a setting where I felt out of place.
The advisor, known for his frankness and narrative skill, quickly got to the point. That day, his words were a shock: for the first time, someone called me arrogant to my face. He went further, stating that if he were in charge, he would have fired me due to my attitude in numerous meetings.
This harsh criticism deeply affected me. In the following years, I avoided interactions with that advisor and eventually left the company. Time passed, and I worked to overcome these character flaws. However, in 2022, the advisor passed away, taking with him the negative image I had constructed in his eyes. I will have to live with that forever.
The “Expert’s Disillusionment” is a psychological and sociological phenomenon that can occur in highly qualified and experienced professionals in their fields of expertise. This state is characterized by a sense of frustration or disappointment that arises when the practical reality of their profession does not match the idealized expectations or the high theoretical standards they have learned and internalized.
The Expert’s Disillusionment is a natural phase in the professional development of many experts, and now I will show you how I overcame this phase.
Active listening
For years, I was in charge of a product that took a while to take off. I had been doing it for so long that I instinctively knew some things that worked and others that didn’t. However, new people didn’t have this context, and besides my management role, I’m also very good at arguing. As a result, I almost never agreed with the opinions of new people, who soon stopped sharing their thoughts. This worsened when I found out that people often preferred to work on the team of an older friend than mine. But instead of getting upset about it, I decided to ask for help.
My friend invited me to sit in on his team meetings. During these meetings, one thing caught my attention. He often asked more questions than he made statements. He constantly inquired not only about what others thought but also why they thought that way. “You need to listen more and speak less,” he said to me one day, and that Christmas, he gifted me the book “Crucial Conversations.”
It’s a plain truth that people are different. What may not be so obvious is how these differences shape our worldviews, creating filters during conversations. As we listen, we try to fit what’s being said into our mental models, often finding pieces that don’t seem to fit. This perceived conflict puts us on the defensive, stopping us from listening and starting us thinking about what to say next. Try this exercise throughout the day: consciously notice the times you catch yourself thinking about your next words.
When we’re more focused on defending our viewpoint, we miss a great opportunity to practice empathy. By controlling our filters and the urge to respond, we find that effective conversation often means helping others express what they’re struggling to say, often hindered by fear.
“Crucial Conversations: Tools for Talking When Stakes Are High” is a practical guide for handling important and potentially difficult dialogues. A central idea in the book is the concept of “Silence or Violence,” which describes how people often react under pressure: either retreating into silence (avoiding the discussion) or resorting to verbal violence (aggressive arguments or attacking the other person). This behavior is especially common when the stakes are high, meaning when conversations are of great importance and the outcome could have a significant impact.
The book introduces the concept of “The Fool’s Choice,” the misguided belief that we must choose between keeping the peace (staying silent) and winning the argument (resorting to violence). It argues that it’s possible to have honest and respectful conversations without resorting to these extremes. To achieve this, the authors suggest creating a “Pool of Meaning,” a shared environment of understanding and mutual respect, where all parties feel safe to contribute their opinions and feelings. This allows for greater understanding and better decision-making.
One valuable lesson I’ve learned from the book “Crucial Conversations” is to paraphrase what I hear in my own words, ensuring clear understanding. Often, when someone shares something with me, I repeat it back in my own words for clarity. Sometimes they agree, but other times, they need to rephrase their thoughts for me to fully grasp their message. Another significant lesson is to reflect on your feelings before starting a conversation and to be open about it. I frequently tell people that I’m unsure about my thoughts and need their help to build a mutual understanding.
In the last five years, I have enhanced team productivity with my expertise in processes and product development. I began by silently attending meetings, observing without interruption. Alongside this, I arranged one-on-one meetings with key team members. Recognized as an expert, I was aware that trust, not fear, was essential for open communication.
In one such meeting, I struggled to connect with a long-standing team member. To bridge the gap, I expressed my respect for their tenure and contribution to the company. I suggested that together, we could shape the future, respecting their deep understanding of the context. It was then that they finally paused, looked away from their computer, and engaged fully with me.
Learning to listen was one of the best things I did in over 20 years of my career, but I didn’t stop there. The next book in the sequence was one of the few I’ve read more than once in my life.
Are we really rational?
A study on kidney cancer incidence across the 3,141 counties in the United States uncovers a striking pattern. The counties with the lowest incidence rates are predominantly rural, sparsely populated, and situated in traditionally Republican states in the Midwest, South, and West. One might quickly attribute this to lifestyle differences. Yet, intriguingly, the same study shows that the counties with the highest cancer rates share the same characteristics: rural, sparsely populated, and in traditionally Republican states. This is no mistake; both findings, for higher and lower incidences, present the same pattern.
The critical insight here is our tendency to weave a narrative around data (“It must be the lifestyle”) and, in doing so, overlook basic statistical principles: extreme results, whether high or low, are more likely in smaller samples. Numbers often serve merely to bolster our confidence in these narratives, a far more common occurrence than we might think.
This was one of the key insights I gained from a book that profoundly influenced my thinking in 2012. “Thinking, Fast and Slow” by Daniel Kahneman, the Nobel Prize-winning economist, was a revelation for me, challenging the widespread belief in human rationality as the driving force behind our decisions.
Kahneman introduces the concept of two systems that govern our thought: System 1, fast and intuitive, and System 2, slow and deliberate. The realization that struck me the most was that many of our decisions are actually made by System 1, driven by instincts and emotions. System 2, often perceived as the bastion of rationality, actually plays a secondary role, justifying and rationalizing the choices made by System 1. In essence, System 1 makes decisions instinctively, while System 2 constructs narratives to persuade us that our choices are rational. This understanding dismantles the notion that we are predominantly rational beings, revealing the extent to which our decisions are shaped by automatic and often unconscious mental processes. This knowledge is crucial for anyone interested in comprehending the true nature of human decision-making.
In today’s world, research and metrics are frequent topics of discussion, yet few seem to possess a deep understanding of research methodology, the foundations of statistics, or Behavioral Economics. In my view, these subjects are immensely beneficial during the Discovery phase of new product development. Moreover, concepts like MVP (Minimum Viable Product), metrics, and hypotheses are essentially applications of the scientific method in the digital product design process. Thus, understanding these methods can be highly advantageous.
Now, I believe I can discern when people are being more or less rational, that is, how much System 1 is in control. I often notice System 1 actively influencing conversations with my mother, especially on topics of ethics and morality, largely due to the significant impact of the dogmas of her religion.
Over time, religion has lost its influence on many societal issues. Today, the collective faith that drives the world is different: it’s the faith in money, as Yuval Noah Harari illustrates in his book “Sapiens.”
The universe is made of stories, not of atoms
Muriel Rukeyser, an American poet and political activist born in 1913 and passed away in 1980, is celebrated for her passionate advocacy in social issues and human rights. Her poetry, echoing themes of equality, justice, and truth, was shaped by the 20th century’s political and social tumult.
Rukeyser staunchly believed in the transformative power of stories and narratives to reveal profound truths about humanity and our world. Her notable quote, “The universe is made of stories, not of atoms,” embodies this conviction. For her, stories transcended mere constructs; they were the core of human existence, a means to connect, share experiences, and shape our world view.
She emphasized the importance of “stories” over “atoms,” indicating that the universe’s true essence lies in the richness and complexity of human experiences and narratives, rather than just in physical matter.
Countless readers of the bestseller “Sapiens: A Brief History of Humankind” by Yuval Noah Harari may resonate with Rukeyser’s perspective. In his influential book, Harari explores how the human capacity to create and believe in stories has been crucial for our species’ global domination. He argues that while there were other human species, like the Neanderthals, with superior physical and perhaps even cognitive abilities, Homo sapiens excelled in one critical aspect: sophisticated communication. This skill enabled sapiens to cooperate more effectively and in larger numbers than any other species.
A key element of this communication was gossip. Harari suggests that gossip played a vital role in human evolution by allowing individuals to exchange information about who was reliable or not, thus strengthening social networks and cooperation. Additionally, the ability to share stories about gods, spirits, and other phenomena enabled sapiens to form larger, more cohesive groups, united by common beliefs and narratives.
Over time, these narratives evolved from mythologies and religions to include abstract concepts like nations, laws, and most notably, money. Harari emphasizes that money is a purely imaginative construct, a collective story in which we all believe.
To grasp how money is purely a figment of our collective imagination, it’s crucial to understand that its value doesn’t reside in the paper, metal, or digital numbers representing it, but in our shared belief in its worth.
Take a banknote, for instance. Physically, it’s just a piece of paper adorned with some designs and numbers. This paper holds no significant intrinsic value. Its acceptance as payment for goods and services isn’t due to the paper’s quality or the ink on it, but rather because everyone in society agrees to believe in its value. This is the “story” we all accept.
Throughout the years, I have learned that stories also help companies stand out. A mission, or an entrepreneur’s vision, is essentially a good story. Effective leaders often excel by being skilled storytellers, and even when things aren’t going well, gossip freely flows through the company corridors.
Whenever I need to connect with a new team member, I schedule a meeting to find common stories. In one such conversation, I shared one of the most impactful stories from my childhood.
My mother was born and raised in Bahia, a poor state in northern Brazil, and when she spoke in her sermons about washing clothes by the river, it wasn’t just a figure of speech. On one of our trips to her hometown, she wanted to visit an uncle she hadn’t seen in many years, living in another town. We took an intercity bus that stopped along the road to pick up other passengers. One of these passengers was carrying two chickens in a cage.
When we arrived in the town, even the bus station wasn’t paved. Stepping off the bus, we began asking people on the street where Tião Carreiro lived. Thirty minutes later, we found ourselves on a soccer field, posing the same question to some children who finally pointed to a wattle and daub house. As we approached, I noticed the door slightly open and an old man in tattered clothes and a hat, carving his name into a crucifix. He was preparing his own tombstone.
Photo by Dante Laurini Jr on Wikipedia
I once told this story to a new colleague who became emotional, as she had moved to the countryside to spend her last days with her grandmother, who had passed away a few months prior. I hadn’t intended to evoke sad memories, but I knew that by opening up in this way, we were reinforcing our humanity. She became one of my best friends and employees at work.
The Next Chapters
During the week, our lives are quite distinct: my daughter spends most of her time at school, and I’m busy working. The image of our reunion is one of the day’s most pleasurable moments. This joy, I must admit, often lasts briefly, as there are days when she keeps me running non-stop, days when she cries over the smallest things, and days when bath time becomes a nightmare. But the next day, the happiness of our reunion returns, and I often find myself counting the minutes until that moment arrives.
I work extensively, truly a lot, except during the sacred hour: the time I spend with her, from 6 to 8 PM, before my little girl falls asleep. Yes, I go to great lengths to avoid scheduling meetings during this sacred time, and I feel a tremendous weight on my conscience when I’m delayed past 6 PM, making her wait longer at school when most of her friends have already left.
My mother hoped I would study to succeed in life, but she was the real victor for instilling in me a thirst for knowledge. And now, I aspire for this journey to make me a good father to my daughter.
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There, I will be sharing the chapters of the book I’m writing. It’s a fiction inspired by my own story, when in 2013, during my divorce, I decided to walk 800 km over 35 days along the Camino de Santiago. Click here to get it for free.
