In the current environment, everyone wants to be smart, or at any rate, appear smart. This
severely interferes with learning, naturally: students who consider being smart important
become more conservative in the length and hardness of problems they attempt, which is a
reasonable risk-averse way of preserving their image. This approach works for undergrad-
uates, especially under the diseased quarter system since the material covered is relatively
shallow and easy. However, once one starts graduate studies and begins to think about prob-
lems where its not even clear if a solution is possible, the habit of following the risk-averse
strategy just doesn’t cut it.
Students not used to prolonged thinking on a single problem start off well. However, soon
they find motivation and inspiration leaving them, and they start dreading working on the
problem as failure would lead them to question something they (by now) crucially identify
with: “smartness”. Procrastination kicks in, and soon the student is busy in a diverse set
of academic (but non-research!) activities to hide the reality of not working, like writing
complicated scripts to automate their soon-to-be-coming publication phase, optimizing their
daily vitamin B12 intake, getting heavily involved with political and religious movements
and so on. Few students are able to critically introspect, which is reasonable since society has
informed them that smartness is what matters, and if they are unable to solve the problem
quickly, the logical conclusion is that they are not smart. In this world-view, it is hard to
even consider the suggestion that smartness matters fairly little in such matters and most
fall prey to heavy depression. Some do manage to climb out: Feynman, physics Nobel Prize
1964, had developed a reputation for being an extremely smart guy at Los Alamos. He paid
for this afterwards as an assistant professor at Cornell, where for the first two years he was
paralyzed by this fear, and unable to do any worthwhile work. During this time, he received
an invitation to join the prestigious Institute for Advanced Studies (where Einstein was one
of the members) but refused since he felt useless as a researcher. Fortunately for science,
later a positive reaction set in for him and he was able to overcome his fear (and later ended
up writing books with titles “What Do You Care What Other People Think”).
Instead of intelligence, persistence is the crucial parameter for success in graduate school:
Gowers, Fields Medalist 1998: ‘To illustrate with an extreme example, Andrew Wiles,
who (at the age of over 40) proved Fermat’s Last Theorem ... and thereby solved the worlds
most famous unsolved mathematical problem is undoubtedly very clever, but he is not a ge-
nius in my sense. How, you might ask, could he possibly have done what he did without some
sort of mysterious extra brainpower? The answer is that, remarkable though his achievement
was, it is not so remarkable as to defy explanation. I do not know precisely what enabled him
to succeed, but he would have needed a great deal of courage, determination, and patience,
a wide knowledge of some very difficult work done by others, the good fortune to be in the
right mathematical area at the right time, and an exceptional strategic ability.
This last quality is, ultimately, more important than freakish mental speed: the most profound
contributions to mathematics are often made by tortoises rather than hares. As mathemati-
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