I think it has been more than ten years since I first read Outliers. In his book, Malcolm Gladwell examines why some talented people succeed while others struggle. Arguably the biggest legacy of this book is the 10.000-hour rule. The thought behind the concept is simple and straightforward: hyper-specialize at a young age, work hard, and with a little bit of luck you might become the next Tiger Woods or Garri Kasparov.
Last year, David Epstein’s Range was published, a research-driven work rich with examples of influential artists, athletes, scientists, and business leaders who didn’t specialize exceptionally early, and all cherished more than one interest.
By presenting a vast body of research in myriad areas, Epstein makes a compelling case for the generalist. He analyses Roger Federer, who dabbled in skiing, wrestling, swimming, soccer and basketball, before becoming the greatest tennis player of all time. Or the life story of Van Gogh, who became a fulltime painter only in his thirties, after trying a wide range of careers (bookseller, teacher, pastor). But besides the popular stories, Epstein also backs it up with more scientific research.
The book shows that the most effective learning can look inefficient, but in the long term beats immediate progress. Being more than one thing, or maybe even being a late bloomer, can be the path to excellence. The book exhibits that knowledge is able to cross-pollinate to new domains and situations, making range the real engine of innovation and creativity. It’s an ode to breadth instead of depth.
The more thought I put into this, the more I came to realize the desire for specialization is all around us. It has deep implications on how we have designed our educational system, how we have structured organizations, and how we as individuals choose career paths. Early specialization provides structure and guidance. It is a system low on uncertainty and high on efficiency. On the other hand, experimentation is discouraged. To some, generalists are dabbling, afraid to make a choice, superficial in their knowledge.
Inspired by this read, combined with my experience working as an innovation manager at a tech company, I’d like to explore some themes of Epstein’s book, and try to redefine how we should think about expertise.
Kind vs. Wicked Environments
One of the key concepts of the book is the idea that there are broadly two environments where learning and innovation can take place. First coined by the psychologist Robin Hogarth, kind environments are environments of recognizable patterns. Feedback is accurate and immediate. We know the rules of the game and we can learn through engagement. In such an environment, deliberate practice makes perfect.
Learning how to play golf takes place in a kind environment. Acquiring the skills to play a musical instrument like the violin also takes place in a kind environment. Or learning how to build a website. Kind environments provide limited possibilities, making previously acquired knowledge directly transferable to future endeavors.
However, as Epstein shows, these kinds of activities are not representative for all learning environments. In reality, most environments are nothing like playing golf or poker; they are characterized by an absence of clear rules. In these so-called wicked environments, there are fewer underlying patterns, and if they exist at all, they are harder to identify and quantify. Information is hidden and feedback on your actions can be delayed or inaccurate. Unsurprisingly, most innovation takes place in wicked environments.
So if it’s true that there are different environments, we must be careful how we apply our skill sets in those environments. Because if we don’t, it might become a straight-up tragedy for learning and innovative progress.
The Risk of Overspecialization
A phrase often heard is that the generalist is ‘a jack of all trades, master of none’. The saying has a rather negative connotation, but there is of course some truth in it. Even though the generalist might have a wider toolset than the specialist, he will hardly ever be able to perform on the level of a specialist. Specialists have acquired their skills through years of dedication and hard work.
Often, specialization is also simply required. When a surgeon has to perform a certain type of surgery, I rather have him or her done it a thousand times before, instead of knowing how it ‘kind of works’. It is a set of crafted skills learned through years of training and practice. The fate of the patient relies on that skillset.
However, as Epstein jokes in his book, the current focus on specialization stretches rather far, also among surgeons:
‘Surgeon and writer Atul Gawande pointed out that when doctors joke about left ear surgeons, “we have to check to be sure they don’t exist.’ (p.17)
Similar jokes were made at the tech company I worked at — a place where I had a lot of marketeers as colleagues. When I started working there, I learned that within the domain of digital marketing (which indeed is already a specialization in itself), there are marketeers focussing on specific media channels. However, it didn’t stop there. Within that specific set of media channels, I had colleagues specializing on one specific platform — trained and certified to know all the ins and outs.
But when the majority of your daily work involves working with just one platform, the subsequent risk that occurs is that this platform becomes the answer to every problem or potential innovation ever encountered. Or, as Epstein puts it:
‘Knowledge is a double-edged sword. It allows you to do something, but also makes you blind to other things that you could do.” (p. 281)
It can best be explained by utilizing the theory of the Inside View, introduced by nobel prize winner Daniel Kahneman (Thinking Fast and Slow) and his research buddy Amos Tversky. The inside view refers to our natural impulse to employ our trained explanatory models for conceptualizing newly encountered problems. It’s a cognitive bias negatively influencing the decision making process. And unsurprisingly, as specialists are drilled to work within a particular model, it’s only natural they operate from the inside view.
The result is something called cognitive entrenchment: a tradeoff where you have gained skills at the expense of flexibility. Potential solutions are presented in our minds before we have determined the deep structure of the problem. As the saying goes: if all you have is your hammer, everything starts looking like a nail. Not necessarily a problem, but you have to be one hundred percent sure you’re not hitting a screw or bolt.
Let’s Welcome The Integrators
The big challenge arises when we start mixing environments and skill sets, and start treating them like they are similar and interchangeable. To many, it might be obvious in the example of a surgeon that a generalist shouldn’t perform the work of a specialist — but what about the other way around? What if we create a world that contains of predominantly specialists, while environments are wicked? Wouldn’t that also be a problem?
The research in Range shows that generalists perform better when environments get more complex. Epstein calls them the integrators of knowledge. Darwin has been an integrator. Just like the old Aristotle and Da Vinci. More recent examples like Elon Musk and Bill Gates also are successful across industries, surrounding themselves with some of the best specialists.
These integrators are able to handle abstraction and have (intellectual) flexibility, used to exploring new domains and integrating them: transcending domains. Analogical thinking is key here:
‘It takes the new and makes it familiar, or takes the familiar and puts it in a new light, and allows humans to reason through problems they have never seen in unfamiliar contexts. It also allows us to understand that which we cannot see at all’ (p.164)
This way of thinking allows connecting the previously unconnected. It’s a commitment to look differently at the world, to train the mind not to commit to a single approach. Integrators are about collaboration and combining insights. They ensure specialists will not get entrenched.
In conclusion
First and foremost: it’s not about what side you’re on. Generalists need specialists as much as specialists need generalists. It’s also not a dichotomy: there is no such thing as a pure generalist or specialist, and kind or wicked environments are often also not as clearly defined in real life.
It’s about addressing the underlying assumption that specialization is the way to success. It’s necessary because the emphasis on early specialization is visible in every part of our society. It has strongly influenced the way we teach, learn and work — something I will write about in future articles.
To close off, I believe that in many cases, we should focus on training traits instead of skills. Train to be genuinely curious, instead of applying what you already know. Go for deep problem-solving over short-term efficiency.
And don’t be afraid of a fair bit of (personal) experimentation: most likely it will pay off in the end.
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I risked oversimplification of this topic by leaving out many of the research examples presented in Range. I would recommend reading the book if you are interested.
