Grappling with impostor syndrome?

In our newest "how can we help you?" thread, a reader writes:

I'm around midway through my PhD, and have been struggling more than I normally do with imposter syndrome. It's put a real damper on my ability to work. What's the point if I'm not going to do work that others would want to read? And why should I risk revealing how little I know?

I've also been pretty convinced by the cognitive scientist Barbara Sarnecka's analysis of imposter syndrome - found in her book, the Writing Workshop - not as the result of something going wrong on the side of the individual, but as the result of something going wrong in the environment. Those struggling with imposter syndrome aren't usually making bad inferences about their own abilities from good data, but good inferences from bad data. We overestimate the success of others, and so underestimate our own, because we're only ever told the success stories.

I'm wondering if anyone has advice on combatting this kind of bad data. I'm especially interested in what I, as a graduate student, can do about it.

I'm sorry to hear that this reader is struggling, but I'm glad they asked this question, as it's an important issue that I expect a lot of grad students and early career philosophers struggle with. We've talked about impostor syndrome a few times before on the blog, and in fact there were many times early in my career when I struggled with impostor syndrome myself--so I know how hard it can be. So, let me offer a few brief comments that I hope the OP may find helpful before opening things up for comments.

In the discussion section of one of my earlier posts on this subject, some of our readers took issue with the terminology 'impostor syndrome', as well as with what exactly constitutes a case of it. While I think these are fair concerns, I'm not entirely sure how to settle these issues. So, for the purposes of what I will now write, I'll just suppose that we are talking about someone who feels like an impostor (i.e. incapable of doing good philosophy, teaching, etc.) in a way that interferes substantially with their mood, motivation, etc., despite having some fairly obvious evidence that they are capable of these things, albeit perhaps as an early-career person who is still 'learning the ropes' (viz. research, publishing, teaching, etc.).

Here's a first thought: I think the OP is probably right to think of impostor syndrome "not as the result of something going wrong on the side of the individual, but as the result of something going wrong in the environment." In my experience, the problem is academia. I've known grad students and early career people in many fields, not just philosophy, and my sense is that these struggles are common. Why? Because academia is pretty much designed to make you feel incapable: it can often feel like 90% of the feedback you receive is negative, and it is easy for it to drown out the positive. First, there's the seminar room, in which people are constantly pointing out the ways in which your arguments fail. Second, there are how professors often grade things, focusing more on where you err than where you succeed. Third, there is peer-review: your papers are rejected from journals the vast majority of the time, often with fairly brutal comments. Then, when it comes to things like teaching, there are students, who can be pretty brutal critics (particularly for early-career, developing teachers). Finally, and I think probably importantly, academia is isolating: you often have to suffer these kinds of humiliations (both small and large) all alone, keeping them secret so as to 'save face' with those around you. Even as a mid-career person today with tenure, I still struggle with some of these things. Like everyone else I know, I get lots of rejections--and although sometimes reviewers are helpful or even recommend accepting my work, many other times the comments are just brutal. It can be really hard to handle.

What to do, then? The first thing that I found helpful in grad school was to develop and seek out support groups. When I was ABD, struggling in vain to come up with a viable dissertation idea for about a year-and-a-half, my supervisor started a 'dissertation group' in which students in the program were invited to share work-in-progress in a supportive environment. I joined, even though I basically had no work at that point to contribute. But, being a part of the group was such a good experience--people were so supportive, even of 'half-baked' work people shared--that it motivated me to try. So, I wrote up something, even though it was half-baked, and shared it in the group. And people supported me, helping me develop the ideas, which eventually became the foundation of my dissertation. So, at least in my experience, support groups can be critical. They can help you see that you are not an impostor, but rather one of many early-career people who are going through the kinds of struggles that early-career people go through.

A second thing that I found helpful, and which I shared here (recognizing that it would be likely to be controversial, though I was surprised at how positively it was received), is that it may be helpful to recognize that, as an early-career person, there may be a very real a sense in which one is an 'impostor'...and that's okay. Here's what I mean(t) by this. As a grad student or early-career person, there are some obvious ways in which you are capable: you're in a PhD program, you've probably gotten fairly good grades in your courses, you may have some teaching experience, etc. But, at the same time, there are some obvious ways in which you are probably very much still developing these capabilities. You're still learning how to be a researcher. For example, maybe you've never published before. Or, maybe you've only been a TA, not a solo-instructor. And obviously...chances are, you've never written a PhD dissertation before! Consequently, there's a very real sense in which, given your career stage, you should feel a bit like an 'impostor'--as someone who is doing a bunch of things you kind of don't know how to do very well. Perhaps, as some readers noted here, this isn't technically 'impostor syndrome' (though I personally still think it probably is). Regardless, the point is, people in the OP's situation (i.e. grad students) are in a particular position in their careers that specifically lends itself to severe self-doubt, irrespective of one's previous successes. This, I think, is probably a second reason why so many grad students I've known feel like 'impostors.' In addition to all of the negative feedback endemic to academic life, early-career people have to struggle with the fact that they don't 'really feel like they know what they are doing' ... simply because they are early-career and still figuring things out. Anyway, this is a second thing that I found helpful: to recognize that (A) one is at a career stage that lends itself to these kinds of thoughts and doubts, (B) recognize that there are many others at a similar point in your career who have gone through and are going through similar things, and because of these things, (C) to be kind to oneself about it.  

Of course, it's one thing to say, "be kind to yourself." It's another thing to do it! Which brings me, finally, to a third thing that I've found to be helpful. Personally, I've found it very helpful to seek out and remind myself of famous people's failures. Seriously! As I shared here, I love collecting and reading famous rejection letters and brutal reviews of great works. I love reminding myself that Kant's Critique of Pure Reason got some brutal reviews when it first came out, as did Rawls's A Theory of Justice (see here and here). I also love reminding myself that many of the most successful people in the world 'failed' (usually many times) before succeeding. I love reminding myself that when Led Zeppelin's first album came out, critics hated it--only to famously change their minds later; that people like Madonna and U2 were rejected by many record labels; and so on, and so forth. Although it may just be me, I find that reminding myself of the countless early struggles of the most successful among us is a helpful reminder: it's okay to feel like an 'impostor', and even to fail...a lot. The critical thing is to keep getting up when you feel knocked down. And, as the saying goes, "fake it 'til you make it." Everyone does it. So can you!

But these are just my thoughts. What are yours?

Comments

[anon]

3 years into non-TT position here.

impostor syndrome is real and in my specific case, its all the more real because I am first generation college who went to all public schools and I am surrounded by colleagues who went to Ivys.

I am constantly having to tell myself that its a big effing deal that I managed to actually land a decent job, even if not TT and I also have managed to tell myself that the TT position *cannot* be measured as the standard of success in academia anymore--its simply unreasonable for it to be when there is that statistic floating around that 70% of faculty in higher ed are contingent!!!!

[anon]

One aspect of my particular impostor syndrome comes out in conference settings and similar circumstances: I find that other advanced grad students seem to have a much quicker command of the literature. Even when I've read (and understood) the relevant literature at some point, I often just can't remember what argument for X is given by Y and how Z rejects that argument. I know where to look it up, but I certainly can't rehearse these things off the top of my head. Yet, others seem to effortlessly be able to do so -- so maybe it's my lack of memory/intellect?

I've found it helpful to realize that impostor syndrome can send you in a vicious circle here: I feel like an impostor because I haven't memorized the literature well enough, but if I were to strategically memorize the most important arguments from the relevant areas (and maybe my hot take on it) just to keep up with conference chat better, I would feel even more like an impostor -- because someone who's genuinely competent wouldn't need to do that! But once I realized that, I felt a bit better: understanding what's going on with your mind can sometimes be a way of combating things like impostor syndrome. (Plus, after I heard a few people repeat the same talking point in various settings, I felt less like what they are doing would be unachievable for me.)

[Madeleine Ransom]

I think all of the suggestions above are great, and would just add that you (and anyone else suffering from impostor syndrome) may find it helpful to:

1) work on redeveloping your spirit of curiosity
2) see your writerly output as a chance to contribute to the discipline, or maybe even an obligation.

I will break these down in turn:

Cultivating curiosity

I think getting back in touch with our curiosity is helpful against imposter syndrome in the following way: when you realize you don't know or understand some argument or position that you think you should (you have undergone years of training after all!), this can feel shameful. But when you started philosophy, you were curious about the issue and just wanted to understand it better, and probably had little to no sense that you were 'falling short'. So getting back in touch with the value of being curious and trying to work things through, to understand, can be helpful because it converts the moment of realization that you don't know something from a moment of shame and self-deprecation to a moment where you realize there is an opportunity to learn something and investigate.

As an aside, it has been my experience that when something doesn't make sense to me, this often indicates that there is a problem with the view, and so you may come up with a good objection to it.

Cultivating a spirit of curiosity is also helpful in another way: it makes the whole enterprise way more enjoyable. There is value in the contemplation of philosophical questions (or else what the heck are we doing with our lives), and doing so in the spirit of investigation rather than the spirit of 'I need to fill this hole in my knowledge or else people will know I'm a fraud' is way more fun.

Finally, I think cultivating our curiosity is a helpful remedy to the (thankfully declining) climate of philosophy as a competitive sport. This isn't a zero sum game, the academy is (at its best) a community of inquiry. Everyone is building on what came before them, and is in conversation with other scholars, living and dead.

This leads me to my second point, which is that you might have an obligation to the academic community to share the products of your investigations.

Giving back/Obligation to contribute

You have spent years in grad school, and before that in undergrad, learning from others. Much of that learning has involved reading and critiquing written texts. Without those texts, your education would have been much impoverished. So now is your chance to give back. Here one might even argue that grad students have an obligation to publish (if only via a finished dissertation) given the intellectual resources they availed themselves to during their own education.

Maybe you have been working on some obscure topic that only a few people in the world currently care about. No matter. It was or is of interest to you, and you have read the literature that has come before you. You have made sense of it in a way that is unique to you, and if you publish it then you will further inquiry in this field. Perhaps everyone will disagree with you. That helps progress in the field. Perhaps people will point out that you didn't think about x objection. That furthers progress in the field.

Again what I am suggesting is a shift in perspective: go from 'If I publish this, or show my work to others I might look stupid or ignorant' to 'If I publish this or show my work to others I am helping to further the discussion on x, and contributing to a community of inquiry'. The perspective shift takes the focus off of you and your worthiness, and shifts it onto building up something larger than you, something that has interested and sustained you for years.

I hope that is helpful to you or someone else reading!

[Frank]

This may be entirely idiosyncratic, but just in case it helps someone: I've felt like an imposter at every stage of my career, through all ups and (especially) downs of it. I couldn't shake it and haven't yet. However, in realizing that I'll never be a worthy philosopher/professor/peer/whatever, it did occur to me that I'm a wildly successful imposter. It might not be as glamorous as being a successful philosopher, but the daily life is precisely the same and my sense of accomplishment is just as real. And while others look down on me for not being a real philosopher, they're just missing how impressive it is that an imposter has been able to accomplish everything they have.