The importance of stupidity

This article was passed by my friend to me and since then, I have read it thrice. Something inspiring for the times when you're confronted with a daunting task and you have nothing else to say in the meantime except for "I don't know".

The importance of stupidity in scientific research
by Martin A. Schwartz
Department of Microbiology, UVA Health System, University of Virginia, Charlottesville, VA 22908, USA


I recently saw an old friend for the first time in many years. We had been Ph.D. students at the same time, both studying science, although in different areas. She later dropped out of graduate school, went to Harvard Law School and is now a senior lawyer for a major environmental organization. At some point, the conversation turned to why she had left graduate school. To my utter astonishment, she said it was because it made her feel stupid. After a couple of years of feeling stupid every day, she was ready to do something else.

I had thought of her as one of the brightest people I knew and her subsequent career supports that view. What she said bothered me. I kept thinking about it; sometime the next day, it hit me. Science makes me feel stupid too. It's just that I've gotten used to it. So used to it, in fact, that I actively seek out new opportunities to feel stupid. I wouldn't know what to do without that feeling. I even think it's supposed to be this way. Let me explain.

For almost all of us, one of the reasons that we liked science in high school and college is that we were good at it. That can't be the only reason – fascination with understanding the physical world and an emotional need to discover new things has to enter into it too. But high-school and college science means taking courses, and doing well in courses means getting the right answers on tests. If you know those answers, you do well and get to feel smart.

A Ph.D., in which you have to do a research project, is a whole different thing. For me, it was a daunting task. How could I possibly frame the questions that would lead to significant discoveries; design and interpret an experiment so that the conclusions were absolutely convincing; foresee difficulties and see ways around them, or, failing that, solve them when they occurred? My Ph.D. project was somewhat interdisciplinary and, for a while, whenever I ran into a problem, I pestered the faculty in my department who were experts in the various disciplines that I needed. I remember the day when Henry Taube (who won the Nobel Prize two years later) told me he didn't know how to solve the problem I was having in his area. I was a third-year graduate student and I figured that Taube knew about 1000 times more than I did (conservative estimate). If he didn't have the answer, nobody did.

That's when it hit me: nobody did. That's why it was a research problem. And being my research problem, it was up to me to solve. Once I faced that fact, I solved the problem in a couple of days. (It wasn't really very hard; I just had to try a few things.) The crucial lesson was that the scope of things I didn't know wasn't merely vast; it was, for all practical purposes, infinite. That realization, instead of being discouraging, was liberating. If our ignorance is infinite, the only possible course of action is to muddle through as best we can.

I'd like to suggest that our Ph.D. programs often do students a disservice in two ways. First, I don't think students are made to understand how hard it is to do research. And how very, very hard it is to do important research. It's a lot harder than taking even very demanding courses. What makes it difficult is that research is immersion in the unknown. We just don't know what we're doing. We can't be sure whether we're asking the right question or doing the right experiment until we get the answer or the result. Admittedly, science is made harder by competition for grants and space in top journals. But apart from all of that, doing significant research is intrinsically hard and changing departmental, institutional or national policies will not succeed in lessening its intrinsic difficulty.

Second, we don't do a good enough job of teaching our students how to be productively stupid – that is, if we don't feel stupid it means we're not really trying. I'm not talking about `relative stupidity', in which the other students in the class actually read the material, think about it and ace the exam, whereas you don't. I'm also not talking about bright people who might be working in areas that don't match their talents. Science involves confronting our `absolute stupidity'. That kind of stupidity is an existential fact, inherent in our efforts to push our way into the unknown. Preliminary and thesis exams have the right idea when the faculty committee pushes until the student starts getting the answers wrong or gives up and says, `I don't know'. The point of the exam isn't to see if the student gets all the answers right. If they do, it's the faculty who failed the exam. The point is to identify the student's weaknesses, partly to see where they need to invest some effort and partly to see whether the student's knowledge fails at a sufficiently high level that they are ready to take on a research project.

Productive stupidity means being ignorant by choice. Focusing on important questions puts us in the awkward position of being ignorant. One of the beautiful things about science is that it allows us to bumble along, getting it wrong time after time, and feel perfectly fine as long as we learn something each time. No doubt, this can be difficult for students who are accustomed to getting the answers right. No doubt, reasonable levels of confidence and emotional resilience help, but I think scientific education might do more to ease what is a very big transition: from learning what other people once discovered to making your own discoveries. The more comfortable we become with being stupid, the deeper we will wade into the unknown and the more likely we are to make big discoveries.

Because

I need to be more honest, more truthful, reveal more of my human side here. That is why I changed the name to 'non-fiction life serial.' Which is self-explanatory. I believe there is someone out there who may be thinking the same thoughts, feeling the same emotions, doing the same motions as me.

So although, our lives are very personal, there is a 'thing' which we would like to share to the world. This is my space for that. This is the little space for me to share my thoughts, and for you to read.

So welcome.

The mermaid lost her sneakers

The mermaid does not have sneakers anymore.

She doesn't know how it happened. But like all lost things, she only found out after it was missing. For many years, it was a thing of comfort. It was something that reminded her of flight, of running, of moving to another place. But at the same time, it was something that will never fit. Because mermaids don't have feet and for that, she will never need sneakers.

It took her a long time to realize that all this while, she has been holding on to something that she never needed. Now that her hands are free, she is rediscovering them. What they can do, what they can hold, what they can be.

When the hands are empty, that only means they are free to do other things.

She has many things to do. Maybe she can write more. Waste less time. Do more things. Make things happen. In this lifetime.

12 months in 12 shots

I realize I hardly updated my blog in the past 12 months. A pity. Considering that 2008 was such a good year. So here I am playing catch up. Here's my 2008 in 12 shots.



January: Witnessed Javier's first crawl at 7 months. As cute as a button.



February: My mom and aunt's visit to Singapore.



March: Bonding over 'fish spa' with my friend Tina before she goes back to the Philippines.



April: Spent my birthday studying for final exams. Sweetie brightened up my day with flowers.



May: My childhood friend Ruth came over to visit.



June: Celebrated Javier's first birthday.



July: Finished my master's degree... Finally!



August: Set foot in Los Banos after 2 years of absence.



September: Went to the Lantern Festival and met up with old friends Chrissie, Jamie and Gino.



October: Reunion with NTU friends during Deepavali season in Little India.



November: Javier jumping for joy.



December: First 'just-the-two-of-us" holiday since giving birth.

New Year

This is the last day of the 'rat' year. Chinese families everywhere are celebrating reunion dinners with their families, tossing the "yu-sheng" for prosperity and giving "ampaos" (red packets containing money) to the children as gifts. It's a nice tradition that grounds people to their families. And I think that is the essence of every celebration -- reunions. Being with the people you call family.

The feng-shui experts are not optimistic about the 'ox' year. They say it is anything but bullish. On the other hand, I think they need to give it a chance. It has not even started and they are already making predictions about how bad it will throughout.

Come on, Mr. Feng Shui expert. That is why they call it a new year. Because it is new. And like all things new, it is beautiful and it will be as what we make it to be.

Gong xi fa cai, everyone!

Getting a life out of nowhere

It's Friday morning and I look forward to tomorrow more than anything else. We're going to Malaysia over the weekend to go horseback riding. And in spite of the proximity of Malaysia (which is just a couple of hours away from here), let me stress that this is a big deal for me because this is the first 'vacation' that I will be having with Sweetie (just the two of us) since giving birth. Whew.

How did that happen. I don't know. Up to now, I still can't believe the fact that I have not been to a 'proper' beach since leaving the Philippines. Fine there is a beach here they call Sentosa but sorry, I am convinced that the inside joke about Sentosa (So Expensive Nothing To See Anyway Ah!) is true.

Ok fine, let me be fair, the bars are nice (and expensive) but for me the reason why I go to the beach IS the beach.

But wait. I am not going to the beach tomorrow. But in some countryside of sorts. Which is the different from the sea but will hopefully give me a sense of peace. Of course, I will miss Javier. (I have been feeling guilty since last week for leaving him even just for a few days... sniff) But I know that as a couple we need this. The year is coming to a close and we need the time to just be together and say to each other, "Yes my dear, we survived 2008."

The Lean Year

So everyone has been talking about the recession. More aptly, everyone has been feeling the recession. Less shoppers, less people going out, less splurging on things we never needed in the first place. I think times like these allow us to know what is really important in life -- our families, our loved-ones, the time we spend with them.

But yes, as I was saying, this year has been lean. Even before news of the recession, I was already financially prudent. I was a full-time student for the first half of the year, yet I still insisted on being responsible for my share of household expenses. It's not easy seeing your savings account slowly deplete but come to think of it, it's just money. Really. I think what we are after is not really after money but what it can buy, what it can get. And if we're thinking that we never have enough money, well, maybe we need to take a look at the things we have. Maybe we'll see that we already have everything. Which leads us back to the argument that we do not need so much after all.

I read this magazine article about Bhutan and its Gross National Happiness. In fact, it is Asia's happiest country in spite of it being one of the world's smallest economies. While I was leafing through the magazine's pages and quietly admired the architecture and the scenery, I was thinking how lucky the Bhutanese are. And as this year comes to a close, I am hoping I could reach the index of contentment that they have.

If and When

Why do we have to hold off certain things in our lives just because of certain conditions? Why must I need to lose weight before I buy myself a pair of nice jeans? Why do I need this much money before I can go off to a quiet holiday? Why do I need to run 5 kilometers before I can eat pizza? Why?

Life has always been ironic for all of us, I am sure. It has never been "I have the money and the time" for me. It's just either/or. Sometimes it is good to trust your instinct and 'just do it' and not listen to your left brain. Because trust me, that side of the brain is very good in telling you that it's just not reasonable what you are about to do. It's like an angel-devil argument happening inside your brain all over again and you are stuck in the middle.

Why can't I do it now? Why not. This is impulsive. But I think this is going to work.