Reader query on impostor syndrome

In the comments section of our newest "how can we help you?" thread, Aristotle's Problem XXX writes:

I'm aware there was a discussion about impostor syndrome back in 2014 on this blog, and it's been somewhat useful. But I wondered if you might at some point want to run a post on the clinically defined "impostor syndrome”. I'm currently relapsing into a cyclical depressive episode and have just read a couple pieces on impostor syndrome and depression in academia. I also just re-read Peter Railton's heartwrenching APA lecture. I suspect more people suffer from depression, depressive episodes, and the like than we care to admit. I believe it has a lot to do with, among other things, the impossible standards of our discipline, how we're not equipped to transition well into new life stages, to appreciate the role of luck, the randomness of what brought us where we are, etc. If you think this could be a good topic for discussion that'd be great. Since there's probably a good deal of cultural and national variation here, experiences from abroad are welcome (I wasn't trained here myself). The problem is certainly not confined to US/UK academia. Thanks!

This is a timely and important query.

Readers may have come across this study today on mental health in grad school, as well as this post on social class and impostor syndrome on Aeon. While I don't know much about the clinical form of impostor syndrome, I am well-acquainted with issues of mental health in academia. Among other things, I know many people in the profession--grad students, untenured faculty, and tenured faculty alike--who grapple with mental health issues, almost always in secret (due to fear of stigma). Alas, aside from working to combat the stigma against mental illness, and ensuring better institutional resources for students and faculty, I'm not sure what should be done (I would encourage everyone to weigh in on the question in the Daily Nous thread, as it is a very important issue).

But this is a bit to the side of the query by Aristotle's Problem, which was specifically about impostor's syndrome. Do any of you have experience with its clinical form? If so, in what context (US or abroad)? And how have you grappled with it?

Comments

[NK]

I've been anxious and depressed (depranxious, I like to say) for as long as I can remember. I've learned to externalize the anxiety pretty well––when it gets bad, I just tell myself I drank too much coffee (which is often true, making it easier to believe). That has worked less well––much less well––since I've been on the job market and trying to publish. But it helps. The depression is harder. Medication helped for a while. Lately, much less so.

Mostly, I try to focus on just doing philosophy, and generally learning new things. Which means trying to ignore the sociology of the discipline. (The fact that I check this blog daily should tell you something about how that's going.) But it's hard.

One thing that increasingly drives me crazy, though, that's connected to imposter syndrome, is philosophers making quick and sweeping judgments about other philosophers' ability––often on the basis of astonishingly little evidence. Some of my colleagues will see a visiting speaker give one talk and then, apparently, judge their quality as a philosopher entirely on the basis of that single exchange. And it's almost always extreme: basically, either the person is a genius, or they aren't worth listening to. And if these are the options, it seems pretty clear that I'm not worth listening to. So why do I keep talking? Well, because I have to make a living somehow.

And what makes it all really difficult is that so much hangs on these impressions people have of you and your work. The impression I make on this person this one day might determine whether or not I ever land a TT job. Which, for me, means I withdraw. Which probably I don't get the job.

[Renn Dennis]

"One thing that increasingly drives me crazy, though, that's connected to imposter syndrome, is philosophers making quick and sweeping judgments about other philosophers' ability––often on the basis of astonishingly little evidence. Some of my colleagues will see a visiting speaker give one talk and then, apparently, judge their quality as a philosopher entirely on the basis of that single exchange. And it's almost always extreme: basically, either the person is a genius, or they aren't worth listening to. And if these are the options, it seems pretty clear that I'm not worth listening to. So why do I keep talking? Well, because I have to make a living somehow."

Why do any of us keep talking?

I feel entirely for your situation as I've been there before. What you are describing is called 'The Iceberg Effect'. It's a very common social phenomenon wherein individuals are evaluated for what you might call surface level reasons. There is a reason why we are encouraged to utilise the principle of charity in our writing. Really, it should be applied everywhere our professions take us.

You will obviously be aware, that on those occasions where individuals are saying "This person isn't worth listening to" it may be less to do with the work of the speaker but on the understanding, ideology or bias of the audience.

Then we have the all to common, Great idea with a bad lecture dynamic.

All that being said; the responsibility of making a good lecture or presentation still resides mostly on the person giving the talk. If you give 100 presentations on the same topic, chances are you had at least one bad one.

The best way around this is to know your audience; if you are giving a presentation on arguments for some form of substance dualism and your audience are mostly physicalists, then apply the principle of charity to physicalist arguments and give them their fairest, strongest form before your rebuttal.

At the end of the day, you're a philosopher so you are devoted to the truth. By all means listen to and engage your critics, but if you believe you are speaking a truth that other people just aren't agreeing with, keep speaking it as your friendly audience may be 200 years away.

Hell, just look at Albert Schweitzer, up and coming for a while in his time but fell out of favour due to his pessimistic predictions for the future. Yet anyone who reads those predictions now, will have no choice but to say "My god! He was right!".

Thank you for this amazing discussion! Imposter Syndrome is something I have to deal with. It never really goes away, but you can turn it into a strength if you know how.