One of the most useful things I’ve learned over the years is how little I actually know. Not in a self-deprecating way, just a factual one. I often say that I know a little about a lot. And while people around me, whether partners, clients, colleagues, or friends, tell me I know “so much”, I’m sure that what they’re usually noticing is something different: the way I connect the dots and quickly combine tidbits from seemingly unrelated fields. It is a generalist’s gift, but it also presents a paradox.
Because the truth is, being curious, lateral-minded, and wide in scope doesn’t necessarily mean you’re an expert. In fact, it often means the opposite. You’re aware of just how much you don’t know. And that awareness can be a source of both humility and strength.
But here’s where things get interesting: in the professional world, it’s often not the humble ones who are handed the microphone.
The generalist’s advantage, and its misunderstanding
Being a generalist isn’t always easy, especially in environments that reward narrow expertise, rigid job titles, and performance metrics that favor specialisation. I’ve spent years working across disciplines and domains. My curiosity has led me to technologies I didn’t invent, fields I wasn’t trained in, and markets I had to learn from the inside out. It was mostly a team effort, and it was mostly based on what already came before.
And yet, that outsider’s mindset, that willingness to admit “I don’t know, yet…”, often opens up more possibilities than trying to posture as the lone expert.
At the same time, I’ve lost count of how often I’ve seen the opposite play out: people who confidently claim knowledge they don’t have, or assume they can do someone else’s job with little understanding of its complexity. This isn’t classic imposter syndrome; it’s something more like reverse imposter syndrome; the belief that you’re more qualified than you are, paired with a blind spot for the limits of your own experience.
In some cases, it’s ignorance. In others, it’s ambition. But whatever the cause, it creates risk: for teams, for businesses, and for the quality of decisions being made.
The trap of reverse imposter syndrome
Let me be clear: confidence is not the problem. The issue is unqualified confidence. And the workplace is full of it.
It’s the executive who thinks they understand product design because they once gave feedback on a wireframe. The sales lead who assumes they could do marketing “if they had the time”. The manager who claims “HR is just common sense”. Or the investor who starts giving advice on operations after reading one article on scaling startups.
What makes this so insidious is that it often appears to be leadership. It wears the mask of decisiveness. But in reality, it undermines real collaboration, blocks nuance, and damages trust. Especially when that false confidence gets paired with power.
Because when people who think they know better also happen to be the ones in charge, things can deteriorate quickly.
Trust in strength, be wary of power
In Dutch, there’s a phrase I often use: “Vertrouw op kracht, wees voorzichtig met macht”. It translates to: “Trust in strength, be cautious with power”.
To me, strength is something earned through experience, wisdom, clarity, and the willingness to grow. Power, on the other hand, is often just something inherited, assigned, or taken. And the two are not always aligned.
Real strength shows up as humility. The ability to say, “I don’t know, let me find out”. The willingness to step back and let others lead. The trust to delegate and the wisdom to listen. Strength lets the right person do the job, regardless of title or hierarchy. Power, misused, does the opposite. It clings to control, assumes superiority, and flattens complexity.
And that distinction matters, especially in leadership.
The E.G.O. at the industry event
Here’s a story I sometimes tell when talking about this theme, because it captures, in a single moment, how power without insight looks in real life.
I was attending an industry event, moving between meetings and introductions, doing what I always do: listening, asking questions, trying to understand the stories behind the companies and the people running them. Often, you hear fascinating tales of innovation, resilience, mission-driven work, and sheer luck or serendipity. But sometimes, you meet someone who embodies the opposite.
I found myself speaking to a man who clearly saw himself as the main character in every room. He handed me a business card: glossy, oversized, with C.E.O. embossed in bold gold letters. He began bragging, dropping names, and, bizarrely, insulting the very company he was now leading.
In between his monologue, I asked: “Ah, so you are the E. G. O. ?”
He responded, completely missing the point: “Yeah, I am.”
This man had made his mark not by building something of value, but by cutting costs. Closing departments. Laying off people. Selling off intellectual property. He was lauded for driving efficiency, until the damage became visible and irreparable. By then, of course, he had already moved on, leaving the wreckage behind for others to clean up.
The irony wasn’t lost on me. In the eyes of some shareholders, he was a “success”, someone to be put on a pedestal and worthy of facing the front cover of a trade magazine. But in reality, he was a textbook case of short-term power without long-term strength.
The Buurtzorg counterpoint: humility in action
Not all organisations confuse power with strength. Consider Buurtzorg, a Dutch healthcare organisation that has revolutionised home care while achieving remarkable business results. Founded by Jos de Blok in 2006, Buurtzorg operates with a radically different approach, where nurses work in self-managing teams of 10-12 people with minimal hierarchy.
What’s striking about Buurtzorg isn’t just their success, but how they achieved it. De Blok routinely deflects credit, emphasising that the organisation’s strength comes from distributing leadership rather than centralising it. When nurses identify problems, they’re empowered to solve them directly. When decisions need to be made, they happen close to the patient, not in distant boardrooms.
The result? Higher patient satisfaction, lower costs, and remarkably engaged employees. Buurtzorg spends less per patient than competitors while achieving better outcomes and maintaining an industry-leading employee retention rate.
It’s a case study in what happens when power serves strength, not the other way around.
This exemplifies what Jim Collins described in “Good to Great” as Level 5 Leadership, where a paradoxical blend of professional will and personal humility transforms good companies into exceptional ones. The leaders who build enduring greatness, Collins found, “look out the window to attribute success to factors other than themselves, yet look in the mirror to assign responsibility for poor results.”
Socratic Humility and the path forward
There’s a story about Socrates that I keep coming back to. When told he was the wisest man in Athens, he didn’t respond with pride. Instead, he said he was only wise because he knew how much he didn’t know. That awareness of one’s own ignorance is the starting point of real wisdom.
I wish that mindset had a stronger foothold in corporate life.
Imagine what might change if more leaders embraced that kind of humility. If we stopped rewarding loud certainty and started listening for quiet wisdom. If we promoted people not just for performance, but for discernment, reflection, and their ability to elevate others.
What if the phrase “I don’t know” became a sign of strength, not weakness?
How might we cultivate this mindset more deliberately?
Organisations can start by revising their hiring practices to screen for intellectual humility alongside technical skills. They can redesign performance reviews to measure collaborative success rather than individual heroics. Most importantly, they can create psychological safety with environments where asking questions and admitting knowledge gaps is encouraged rather than penalised.
The shift begins with small actions: leaders publicly acknowledging their mistakes, teams celebrating learning as much as outcomes, and organisations telling stories that highlight collective achievement rather than solo brilliance.
Of course, this approach will face resistance, particularly in industries with entrenched “hero cultures” that glorify the visionary genius or the commanding executive. But even in these environments, the research increasingly suggests that sustainable innovation requires the humility to question assumptions and the openness to learn from anyone, regardless of their title or tenure.
Final thought
We live in a world that moves fast, rewards confidence, and celebrates visibility. But that doesn’t mean we should forget the quiet virtues: curiosity, humility, generosity, and reflection.
If we want better leaders, stronger teams, and more meaningful work, we need to create space for them. And that starts with a shift in mindset. From ego to insight, from knowing-it-all to knowing-how-to-listen, and from individual grandstanding to sharing in the success many contributed to.
So the next time someone hands you a business card in bold gold font, ask yourself:
Are they the C.E.O. or just the E.G.O.?
https://www.linkedin.com/pulse/trust-strength-question-power-roland-biemans-ztlke
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