A paradox is the existence of two opposing ideas in the same sentence, both of which can be true. A ProWritingAid blog demonstrates with this example:
“Joseph Heller uses paradox throughout his novel Catch-22. A major paradox is that Yossarian claims to be crazy to get out of fighting in the war.
However, a crazy person would not be sane enough to claim to be crazy for this reason, so he reveals himself as sane and does not get out of duty.”
When I think about the paradox of professionalism, here is what strikes me: A professional knows more about their field than a “layperson.” However, a layperson may notice something about the field that a professional may not have known, explored, or accepted as valid. In this instance, the professional will dismiss the layperson’s observation because he/she is the professional in the field, even though the layperson’s observation may be more relevant than expert’s knowledge.
We don’t have to look too far to see how frequently this very tactic is employed.
No matter the discipline, lines of separation are drawn, and information is carefully sealed off and protected from those who a) do not have the credentials to access it, b) are not knowledgeable enough to understand it, or c) challenge the prevailing wisdom in ways that are deemed unprofessional.
You see the doom loop.
Once upon a pre-COVID time, I spoke a lot about competence, confidence and risk-taking as a learning system. My talks usually included admonition to keep an open mind and encouragement to explore alternative ideas. Lack of confidence often arose as a real-world barrier to both admonishment and encouragement.
While generalizations are often dangerous, here’s what I’ve learned about this tension over the years.
Those who “know” things like to protect themselves from challenge by others deemed inferior.
Characteristics of inferiority are solely determined by the expert. Allowing new ideas to permeate well-fortified “facts,” they say, is a recipe for erosion of truth. Or something like that. Confident people rarely close doors to inquiry, preferring instead spirited discovery.
Those who would offer alternatives may be stymied by “cultural norms,” accepted meeting protocol, and a sometimes-visceral nose for self-preservation.
Thus, the paradox of professionalism. As our world careens from one cataclysm to the next with information that can be easily manipulated and packaged according to a preordained desired outcome or conclusion, fewer people feel confident in their capability to question the accepted norm. Or, conversely, to stand on dated models.
An example: Imagine you are in an important meeting—a board meeting, say—that includes a dozen people. The individual running the meeting lays out a scenario then poses an open-ended and fairly benign question to the group: “What do you think?”
Cue sudden interest in fingernails, stretching out a crick in a neck, leaning down for a dropped piece of paper until finally one brave soul expresses a thought. “Yeah, that’s it!” cry the others, relieved of the pressure to speak their thoughts.
What a travesty! We now have ONE mind available to the group instead of twelve. If we allow this as leaders, shame on us. And shame on the professionals we gather to help us investigate, innovate, and improve.
By the way, this challenge is as old as time. The sometimes humorous crossed-arm finger pointing gesture is one everyone understands. The paradox of professionalism deserves a little intellectual roughing up. Let’s get after it.
