I'll let you in on a secret of mine. Three little words that make all the difference. A simple little sentence that school forgets to prepare you for in spite of its amazing power.

“I don't understand.”

Those who teach empowerment seminars probably tell you to go the other way. Certainly all the schools I ever attended did. But in my experience the whole point of learning something well is so that you don't have to know everything well.

I recall being with a friend, a fellow student, and encountering someone I didn't know in a lounge near my office at MIT. “Who are you?” I asked. He said his name and it meant nothing to me. “Oh, what do you do?” He told me about his research. He mentioned no title. Later, my friend was mortified. “I can't believe you just asked Carl Hewitt who he was and what kind of research he does,” she griped. “Why?” “Don't you know who he is?” she asked harshly, obviously mortified with embarrassment. “No, I don't. That's why I asked.” She explained that he was an important professor in my field of study, and seemed to think if I didn't know this, I should have just been quiet about it. “He didn't seem offended,” I noted. “He seemed happy to explain. Now I know about it, where if I hadn't asked I wouldn't. And anyway, if he had cared but hadn't gone to enough trouble to make himself known to me, that wouldn't be my fault, it would be his.”

I learned quickly from this experience and others to just boldly tell people when I didn't know something. They were always happy to fill in. I went to conference after conference, never hurting for small talk, because I was never short of things I didn't understand and I found I was forever in the presence of people who felt they did. It was quite a symbiotic relationship, actually. I learned a great deal and people were happy teaching me.

People distrust people who purport to understand everything. I think they are reassured by being around people with the confidence to identify what they don't understand. The phrase is therefore naturally collaborative. It invites helpful cooperation.

Saying you didn't understand something creates an opportunity to listen. People like it when others listen to them. It makes people feel wanted. While there are surely some experts in the world who enjoy humiliating people who admit a lack of understanding, I think such people are few—and I'm not so sure they should be catered to in many cases anyway. Most experts enjoy using their expertise to help, so saying you don't understand something is saying “I need you.” It's as close as the professional world ever comes to showing a sense of family.

And then there are the faux experts or experts who are not as expert as they think. True experts generally have sufficient additional brainpower left over when thinking about their area of expertise that they can spare a little to help others, but some experts are secretly struggling, too. The gracious among them will have learned to respond simply “I don't understand either,” disarming the situation and allowing both of you to feel comfortable. But the charlatans will stubbornly resist, hoping to resolve the situation by making you feel bad. Don't let them. Simply repeat the remedial phrase, “I still don't understand.”

People who admit they don't understand something are poised to learn something about it. One cannot learn something new from the posture of “I already know.” Cognitive dissonance will refuse to allow the new knowledge in even if someone is providing it. And if you're busy focusing verbally on how much you already know, why would anyone be bothering to offer you new information anyway?

It takes a humble soul to admit weakness gracefully. People admire humility and react warmly to it. That dosn't hurt either.

Even politically, the phrase is useful. While much is made of the need for strong leaders, it is the strongest leader who is not afraid to admit he is not Superman. The false bravado of George Bush, Dick Cheney and Donald Rumsfeld did nothing to make sure our country was pointed in the right direction. All it did was assure us that when we regained our collective senses, we couldn't get them to see how off course we were. We'll be struggling for a long time to dig ourselves out of the obfuscations put in place in that era and to learn the truth of what went on. Yes, some of the obfuscation might be national security, but history suggests that a lot of national security is really just about face-saving.

It took a regime change—which fortunately the founding fathers had planned for at timed intervals—to replace that Administration with another that is more comfortable speaking about our occasional weaknesses. And in spite of heckling from the Hannities and the Limbaughs in the crowd, Obama's admissions of our weaknesses have only seemed to make us stronger. No big surprise, for reasons I've explained above.

Especially, too, in these hard economic times, be reassured by the fact that we all still need each other for one thing or another. Focus on what you can reliably contribute and then step back and let others contribute what they can.

Hopefully that covers today's subject. If you're left not understanding my point, feel free to say you don't understand. If I've failed to make any of these points clearly enough, that's surely my problem, not yours.

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