“It’s Not a Phase, Mum”

Recently I’ve been asked by a few people whether my passion for climate change is “just a phase”. I don’t blame them; it certainly seems like one. Within the space of a few months, I went from having a comparatively basic understanding to having read more than 20 books, listened to over 100 hours of podcasts, and written five articles on the subject (with more coming soon).

Perhaps it is a phase. It’s quite likely over the coming months my passion for climate change will wane. The pace of my reading around the topic has already started to slow, and I doubt it will pick up again any time soon. It’s a sombre realisation that something you are so interested in might fade somewhat into the background. I’m sure everyone reading this has been in that situation as well.

From an early age, persistence is put on such a pedestal; I can picture it plastered on the wall of my kindergarten classroom next to a cartoon of a climber summiting a steep mountain. The school my sister attended for 10 years even had the motto ‘per aspera ad astra’, meaning ‘through hardships to the stars’ (a bit corny, but sure).

Hearing those questions, I wondered if it would be best if I try to persist with climate change. It’s definitely a worthy cause, it could lead me down many interesting career paths, and I find it fascinating. And maybe that’s what I will do; who knows at this stage?

But the more I thought about it, the more I realised that’s unlikely to happen. I’m very prone to phases and obsessions. First, it was Star Wars, then it was cricket, then Lord of the Rings, and then cars. When the Australian Open was on, I would want to play tennis every day, only to forget about it for the rest of the year.

As I’ve grown up, these phases have become more productive. I’ve been through a behavioural economics phase, a quantitative finance phase, and recently perhaps a climate change phase. And in between these larger phases have been many more mini ones, lasting for only a few weeks at a time.

Currently, I’m in a watch mini-phase (much less productive than climate change, I know). It got so obsessive, recently I was in New York for a couple of months and thought it would be a good idea to see a lecture on the history of watch dials from 1550 to 1770. Don’t make the same mistake — it was incredibly dull.

Why am I saying all this?

Looking at the very early stages of my career, I believe my tendency for obsession and phases has been one of the most important, if not the most important character trait that I possess.

Here’s how I see it. When you’re starting out, your value depends on four main criteria: how smart you are, how well you work with others, how hard you work, and what you know. The first two are, for the most part, set in stone. You can improve how you relate to others over time (experience in the workforce certainly helps), but progress is slow.

That leaves your work ethic and your knowledge as the two criteria that you can materially influence. Yet, from what I’ve seen, the latter is severely undervalued by young people. My experience tells me it really matters what you know, and that at the very least you know something.

Knowledge gives you direct value, makes you more respected, and sets you apart from the competition. But most importantly, knowledge makes you confident — the impact of which cannot be understated.

What’s more, diverse knowledge fosters nuanced perspective, allowing for better judgement.

So, how can we accumulate diverse knowledge?

Learning follows the law of diminishing returns. Early on, you can learn a lot in a short space of time. But the more you learn, the harder it is to learn more. I’ve certainly seen that in my research into climate change. Early on, every book I read was completely new. Now, finding information I don’t already know is getting harder and harder.

This is why phases are so valuable. Whilst you’re in one, you become obsessed with the subject; as a result, your learning curve is super steep (like the green curve above). By contrast, passive learning, which you often get from schools and universities, is far slower (more akin to the black curve above).

Crucially, because phases end, by timing their demise well you can capture the early steepness of the curve and exit before you hit diminishing returns. Depending of course on the subject of the phase, you can exit knowing a lot of what an ‘expert’ knows, in only a fraction of the time it took them to achieve that status. And even if that’s not the case (if, say, the subject is quite technical or niche) you’ll still know far more than most.

Provided you move quickly onto the next phase, this style of learning can massively accelerate your accumulation of knowledge. For someone prone to phases, moving on comes naturally.

The specialist or the generalist?

Having said all this, persistence is still extremely valuable. Scientists, engineers, and doctors all dedicate their careers to specific subject areas. What makes them so valuable is their persistence in the accumulation of knowledge in their chosen field.

But striving to be the ‘expert’ isn’t necessarily the best choice for everyone. Many people can’t sustain interest in one particular pursuit for their entire career. It’s no wonder people make more career changes than ever before. As well, in careers such as business, journalism, and politics, diverse knowledge and experience are extremely valuable. For these types of people, phases can be one of their most valuable tools.

And so, my advice is two-fold.

Firstly, think about whether you are prone to phases. Given the answer to that question, ask yourself: Am I going down the right career path?

Secondly, foster your obsessions; immerse yourself as deeply as you can while your passion still burns. But, if you lose interest, allow it to fade away. Moving on doesn’t illegitimise the original interest. It isn’t a sunk cost. You will carry that knowledge and understanding with you for the rest of your life. And you never know how useful it might be.

It’s easy to stigmatise other people’s phases, especially if they’re about something as useless as Star Wars or watches. But, by inhibiting someone’s willingness to step into that obsession, you’re also inhibiting their ability to step into obsessions that matter. As well, bungled, irrelevant, and niche phases only build on each other, making you more interesting and rounded. Diversity isn’t a bad thing; it’s the best thing. I’m lucky those around me have, for the most part, fostered my phases, no matter how irrelevant. Make sure you’re fostering the phases of those around you. You never know how important they might be.

Thinking back on the original question, perhaps someday I will lose my burning desire to learn all about climate change. But just because the fire ceases to burn doesn’t mean I’ve lost passion or fascination. I just won’t be reading three books about it every week.

I still really want to pursue climate change in my career; I believe it is one of the most important issues of our time and is an issue I feel I can have a significant impact on. All it means is that it may fade into the background just enough that I can turn my attention to something new. And I truly believe that something new will not only make me more valuable in general, but it will make me more valuable should I work in climate.

Perhaps that makes it “just a phase”. I welcome that possibility with open arms.