Another great guest post from recent MIT grad Michael who was a part of Seek (first as a participant then as a leader).

The notion of a purely meritocratic society is something that is wholly agreeable to most people. In fact, it is woven into the very spirit of the American Dream – the notion that anyone, no matter what the socioeconomic background, can succeed in life through hard work. It is, on the surface, a beautiful notion. Even the poorest migrant worker can attain everything he wants in life, and more, if he has grit and is willing to work hard for it.

At MIT, the notion of meritocracy is revered above all else. In truth, it is one of the things that most attracted me to the institution when I was choosing my undergraduate school. At MIT, people were appreciated for their brains, not their brawn. Finally, here was a place where I could be judged on my intellect instead of my looks or wealth or athletic ability. I remember even reading a quote by MIT’s then President Susan Hockfield stating that it was MIT’s mission to foster a meritocratic environment for its students. Everything at MIT seemed to embody the notion of meritocracy, and as everyone knows, meritocracy is a good thing.

However, as I started my undergraduate career at MIT, I came to notice something strange about this proud meritocratic institution – namely, that there was a rather unhappy flip-side to meritocracy as well. If I truly believed that in a meritocracy, those who had attained success in fact deserved all of their success, then really I also had to believe that those who didn’t quite make the cut also very much deserved to not make the cut. And that was a very uncomfortable thought.

It implied that those who were in the top 50% of the grade distribution were somehow intellectually superior to those in the bottom 50%. It implied that those who had published research in famous scientific journals were somehow “better scientists” than those who had yet to publish. It also implied that those who had secured internships at prestigious companies somehow deserved those jobs more than those who didn’t manage to get a foot in the door.

From there, it was dangerously easy to arrive at the uncomfortable notion that they were fundamentally better people as well – that they were somehow more worthy or more deserving in life.

This really bothered me. Going into MIT, my perspective on life was that it was all ultimately about achievements. If there was a subconscious or unspoken mantra that I lived my life by, it was probably something along the lines of “You’re only worth as much as the sum of what you accomplish.”

Building off this mindset, my self worth was largely tied to how many prestigious achievements I could add to my resume. I soon learned how extremely unhealthy this life perspective was. At MIT, everyone was so incredibly accomplished that I quickly found myself feeling inadequate in all aspects of my life. There was always someone with better grades, better research experience, or a better internship. The only way to feel better about myself was to advance along this very one-dimensional metric of academic/professional success, and as a result I lived a very unhappy existence – one characterized by a constant and never-ending race to excel.

Midway through sophomore year, something very significant changed in me, or rather, my view on what’s important in life.

But first, a tiny bit of background. MIT has a tradition of giving its students the month of January off for Independent Activities Period, otherwise known as IAP. During this month, students are encouraged to pursue virtually whatever they wish, ranging from internships, research opportunities, eclectic classes offered at MIT, and various other “independent activities.”

One of the things that I stumbled upon during my sophomore IAP was a dinner discussion series called “Seek.” The goal of Seek was to be essentially an introduction to faith and God for those who had limited exposure to faith but wanted to learn more. Despite having no real religious background, I initially got interested after hearing that there would be free food (What? I was a freshman in college). At the same time though, I was worried that I would walk into a room with hooded figures chanting Bible verses, and subsequently be reduced to having to mumble awkwardly in a corner, not knowing any of them (really – this was my impression of religious get-togethers). I was pleased to find that the first session defied my expectations – Seek made a point to be non-preachy and non-dogmatic, and it seemed to be focused more on the practical elements of faith, rather than the “heady” stuff.

What I found at Seek over the course of IAP literally changed my view on life and the world. Now, before you roll your eyes, let me tell you that it was not that Seek convinced me of the existence of God – if anything, I was more skeptical than before (if you’re wondering, I do now believe in God, but that belief came much later). Rather, the novelty was a unique perspective on life that championed relationships over achievements.

This was nothing short of a paradigm shift for me. For the vast majority of my life up until this point, it had been reinforced in me that life was all about what you accomplished, not how you interacted with people. But here I learned that the entire religion of Christianity was built upon the foundation of relationships – relationship with God, with people, and with oneself. Part of me was skeptical, but part of me was intrigued. How much truth could there be to this “relationship-based” life?

I decided to find out for myself. Over the next few weeks, I decided to prioritize my relationships with the people I knew and loved over schoolwork and job seeking. What I found was that my life suddenly got a whole lot better. And not just by a little. I mean, tons and tons better. I had more energy, found myself smiling more, and generally speaking, I just enjoyed being alive a whole lot more. The change was dramatic and infectious, and I loved every minute of it.

But what had changed, really? Well, by my old perspective on life, nothing much. I hadn’t attained particularly higher grades than before, nor had I been published in a major scientific journal, nor had I secured a prestigious internship. The only difference that I could see was that my relationships with people I care about had marginally improved. And funnily enough, that little fact made me happier and more fulfilled than I had ever felt from any material achievement.

To this very day, I live my life on a daily basis driven by what I see as most important – cultivating, growing, and forging relationships, new and old.

But to wrap up this rather long blog post, I want to return to the notion of meritocracy. I’ve spent a decent portion of this article criticizing meritocracy as being a source of unhappiness in people’s lives. But I want to be perfectly clear – I’m still an ardent supporter of meritocracy.

It just has to be the right kind of meritocracy. By that, I mean 2 things.

First, I’m a supporter of a multidimensional meritocracy. I believe that measuring people by the one-dimensional ruler of academic/professional success is not only too narrow-minded, but also ultimately destructive, as it accomplishes little else other than promoting status anxiety. Too many people, especially those at MIT, tie the entirety of their self worth to this one metric. Realize that your other merits, such as generosity, humor, fitness, spirituality, etc. are just as important, if not more so.

Second, realize that being “someone of merit” is not equivalent to being “someone who has achieved a large number of noteworthy things”. Achievements and awards are great to have, but they’re a small part of what life is about. Ultimately, these past four years have taught me that people really ought to be less invested in measuring their own “merit” (whatever that means), and more invested in nurturing and growing relationships, as sappy as that might sound. If I’ve learned anything at MIT, it’s that relationships with others make up the very fiber of what’s good in life. And it’s a very good life, indeed.