You’re not alone—even geniuses feel like frauds

A part of you clamps up. You retreat into your cabin. You work harder than ever to ensure they do not detect flaws. They don’t. Your rise in the company is meteoric now. But every now and then, that hushed feeling creeps back in. An old mocking voice whispers: You are faking it, and sooner or later, you will be exposed.

‘Imposter syndrome’ was coined by psychologists Pauline Clance and Suzanne Imes in 1978 in their paper ‘The Imposter Phenomenon in High-Achieving Women.’ It described a persistent sense of phoniness among highly capable women.

“The term impostor phenomenon is used to designate an internal experience of intellectual phoniness which appears to be particularly prevalent and intense among a select sample of high-achieving women. Despite outstanding academic and professional accomplishments, women who experience the impostor phenomenon persist in believing that they are really not bright and have fooled anyone who thinks otherwise,” the paper noted.

That same year, the first moon orbiting Pluto was discovered and named Charon. The so-called Camp David Accords were signed, hailed back then as a landmark peace treaty in the Middle East.

The peace did not last, Pluto was later found to have four more moons, but the imposter syndrome dug its tentacles deep. Over time, we realized it is not just women, but high-achieving men too who suffer from this condition.

Many begin attributing their success to luck, a golden chance, a mentor or fortuitous circumstances. External factors must have contributed to their success, they suspect, because they believe they themselves were never good enough.

I first heard of ‘imposter syndrome’ while recruiting young executives for business process outsourcing (BPO) jobs in 2006. The dotcom bust a few years earlier had taken its toll; call centres and BPO units were in the spotlight and talent-hungry.

Barely a few years into their jobs, these young superstars were given teams of 20 to handle. Their confidence was on overdrive, their swag unmistakable, but cracks showed early. When a team leader left, a successor was quickly appointed, so a sense of ‘fluke success’ was common.

This syndrome is agnostic to gender, hierarchy, age and social conditioning. Scions of business families groomed to take over the reins may display the strategic acumen that comes with generational confidence. But they too can be enveloped in this feeling of phoniness, worrying that their closest aides see through them every day.

Ironically, while the productivity of those battling the condition may seem high, it is often short-lived. To keep yourself charged when you believe your success is a façade is a mammoth task. And mammoths did not survive.

I wonder if imposter syndrome is even more pronounced today, when one is surrounded by endless positive affirmations. For those of us born in the early 1980s, mediocrity was not a dirty word. It was assumed that most people were average, with sparks of talent in one or two areas that could be honed with perseverance. Successes and failures, whether in a drawing competition or board exam, were rarely extreme. You participated. You tried your best. You were seldom celebrated.

But times today are different. Mediocrity has been expunged. Everyone is told they are ‘special.’ The most basic step towards progress is labelled a ‘win.’ And when acknowledgement becomes routine, the jolt of joy that should come with true celebration loses force. You realize that everyone is triumphant and therefore no one is truly special. The edge you thought you had feels short-lived, just waiting to be exposed.

At a time when workplaces are discussing empathy, the top brass is getting coached and mentorship programmes are being designed for young employees with high potential, the imposter syndrome also needs to be addressed. Coaches and therapists teach coping mechanisms, and the sooner these are identified, the better. Because your colleague, junior or senior may see only a smug professional who works hard but is rarely satisfied.

While researching this subject, I came across famous people who admitted they never felt worthy of their accolades. Albert Einstein, for instance, once remarked to a friend: “The exaggerated esteem in which my lifework is held makes me very ill at ease. I feel compelled to think of myself as an involuntary swindler.”

The feeling of being an ‘involuntary swindler’ is far more common than we realize, especially in the corporate world.

The author writes on workplaces and education at Mint.