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 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.

Photo by Moritz Schumacher on Unsplash

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.