The Paradox of Humility in a Recognition-Hungry World

"Humble" isn't a word my colleagues would use to describe me, especially early in my career.

In fact, when word got around that I was researching humility, I suspect more than a few choked on their coffee. Barret Michalec, a professor at Arizona State University, spent over 10 years exploring humility as both concept and practice. Yet it wasn't until his own professional world crumbled that he truly understood what it meant to embrace it.

His journey reveals a fundamental tension facing modern professionals: In a world that rewards visibility and achievement, is humility a virtue or a liability?

The Misunderstood Virtue

Humility has been praised for centuries, but it's often mischaracterized. Today's culture mistakes it for humble bragging—disguising boasts as modesty. "I really hate talking about myself, but people keep asking how I managed to run a marathon while working full time."

Or it resembles impostor syndrome—that persistent feeling of being intellectually fraudulent despite clear evidence of competence.

But research shows humble people hold accurate views of their abilities and achievements. They openly acknowledge mistakes and limitations, stay receptive to new ideas, and recognize their place within a larger whole while genuinely appreciating others' value.

The problem? Humility doesn't always earn praise. Sometimes the humble are seen as meek, subservient, or self-abasing. Critics dismissed former New Zealand Prime Minister Jacinda Ardern's empathetic leadership during COVID-19 as weak or soft, despite widespread praise for her openness and deference to experts.

The Noise-Making Years

Michalec stands out in any crowd—6-foot-4 with close-cropped hair, a heavy beard, and tattoos. But he also pushed himself to stand out professionally.

Starting in graduate school, he was determined to make his voice heard and sought after. He pursued nearly every opportunity, committee, and position that came his way. No role was too small to accept.

He strived to present work in top-tier journals and conferences, cold-called prominent scholars to propose collaborations, and constantly shared findings on social media. When his department chair described him as having his hair on fire, he took it as a compliment. He called it "making positive noise."

Initially, the system rewarded that noise. At the University of Delaware, he earned tenure, received departmental and national awards, and was appointed associate dean and research center director. He felt validated, visible, and valuable.

The Big Fish, Bigger Pond Reality Check

In 2020, Arizona State University offered him a new opportunity—a chance to direct a center at a much larger school that branded itself as a hub of innovation and entrepreneurship. He arrived expecting to be a big fish in a bigger pond.

He couldn't have been more wrong.

No greeting, office, or nameplate marked his arrival. Early conversations with administrators weren't about his research or teaching visions—the things he thought set him apart. Instead, they focused on how much external funding he could raise from foundations and government agencies.

New colleagues spoke in grant-based acronyms when referring to projects, a "language" he was woefully unfamiliar with. Worse, he arrived during COVID-19, with classes canceled or online and faculty working from home. The hallway chatter, open doors, and spontaneous collaboration he was accustomed to were absent.

Even after ASU resumed in-person classes in fall 2021, the silence and distance lingered. No students waited for office hours. He struggled to connect with colleagues. His proposals for new classes and programs hit institutional barriers he wasn't aware of.

At one point, a college administrator asked, "How do we get you on other people's grants?"—a question he interpreted as implying his research wasn't strong enough.

When Recognition Becomes Addiction

For people who've built careers on high engagement and visibility, suddenly feeling unseen can be devastating. In any profession, fearing you don't belong at your workplace can be debilitating and make you question your own value.

Michalec sought advice from peers and college leaders, even hired a professional coach. Things only worsened. Curricular proposals stalled or were turned down. His center was shuttered in a restructuring, despite meeting goals and earning international recognition.

This series of what he called "unacknowledgments" sent him into a personal and professional tailspin. Negativity and self-doubt consumed him. He truly worried his career was over.

At first, he blamed ASU and Edson College. He thought the leadership structure was dysfunctional, colleagues were cold and conformist, and the college's stated values were inauthentic. But the real problem was deeper.

Research Becomes Mirror

Michalec had spent years studying empathy and developing programs to foster it among healthcare professionals. But analyzing his program's outcomes from his ASU office, he realized empathy wasn't enough. It could help students feel with others, but didn't necessarily help them see themselves—or others—differently.

What he really wanted students to develop was humility. This required recognizing limits, accepting fallibility, seeing themselves as part of a larger team, and valuing others' contributions.

That realization changed his research trajectory—and eventually, his professional life.

As his professional world unraveled and he dove deeper into humility research, something unexpected happened. Humility wasn't just an idea to study—it was becoming a mirror that made him rethink his own perspective.

Slowly, he began seeing how pride and insecurity were entwined in his reactions to ASU. His need to be noticed and insistence that others validate his worth represented his own kind of arrogance.

Perhaps his ambition had been less about contributing and more about gaining external validation. He'd lost the selfless wonder and awe that drive scholarly inquiry and curiosity.

Building Humility Muscles

In 2024, Michalec developed "HIIT for Humility," an online training program modeled after high-intensity interval training. It provides evidence-based strategies to help users build "habits of humility"—acknowledgment of others, self-awareness, curiosity over certainty.

Just as physical exercise requires consistency to produce results, so does cultivating humility. Leaning into these workouts gradually eased his sense of alienation and defensiveness. He became more appreciative of others, less quick to judge, and better able to listen to different perspectives.

While he still took pride in his work, he began seeing that his contributions weren't the only ones that mattered. He also found he could stretch into unfamiliar but necessary tasks—like working harder to win federal grants—and recognize the value of colleagues' contributions to science.