Criticisms of So Good They Can’t Ignore You by Cal Newport

This post sets out five major criticisms I have for Cal Newport’s book, So Good They Can’t Ignore You (click to read my summary of it).

Before I start, I should add that, overall, I enjoyed the book. The writing style was extremely clear and it imparted valuable messages with which I generally agreed. I also appreciated how Newport provided a credible alternative to the “passion hypothesis” instead of simply saying, “forget about finding a job you like you spoiled brat and work really hard”. That said, there were parts of the book I disagreed with or found troubling, and I focus on those in this post.

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1. Sets the bar for leaving a job too high

Newport sets out three exceptions to his rule of becoming “so good they can’t ignore you”:

  1. The job presents few opportunities to distinguish yourself by developing rare and valuable skills.
  2. The job does something you think is useless or actively bad for the world.
  3. The job forces you to work with people you really dislike.

I’d argue this bar is far too high:

  • A job or career path that you really dislike, even if it doesn’t meet any of the above, is well worth leaving. In my opinion, Mark Manson put it better when he said that problems and pain are inevitable; but you do have to choose what pain you’re willing to put up with.
  • Finding better match quality should be a good enough reason to leave your job, especially early in your career when the value of exploration is high. It’s certainly possible to take this exploration too far, looking for a “perfect” job that simply does not exist. But Newport’s advice would suggest you shouldn’t bother exploring at all unless your job meets one of the three disqualifiers above. (To be fair, Newport later backtracks on this somewhat when he talks about Pardis Sabeti and the importance of “mission”. But even then he endorses “little bets”, tentative steps rather than wholesale career changes.)

2. “Mission” sections were weak

The difference between “passion” and “mission” is unclear

As mentioned in my main summary, Newport never explains the difference between “passion” and “mission” clearly.

After reading the “mission” chapters, I came away with the impression that Newport actually does believe that people should “follow their passions”, with two caveats:

  • you shouldn’t follow your passion before you’ve built up career capital; but
  • you may discover your passion partway through your career, after you’ve built up some career capital.

Unreasonably high bar for “mission”

Newport seems to modify his definition of “mission” as he goes. When he first introduces the concept, he writes:

To have a mission is to have a unifying focus for your career. It’s more general than a specific job and can span multiple positions. It provides an answer to the question, What should I do with my life?

The definition of “mission” here seems very subjective and personal.

But later, because he feels he has to tie this back to the importance of career capital in some way, he makes the rather bizarre claim1This is not the only part of the book that I think Newport made up. Another example is when he distinguishes between “winner-take-all markets” and “auction markets”. He argues that only one type of career capital matters in the former, while each person might have a unique combination of career capital that matters in the latter. This set off my bullshit detector. While these different markets do exist, I couldn’t find anything to support Newport’s claims about the types of career capital that matter in each (apart from his observation that some top blogs have “notoriously clunky designs”). I mean, in apple-picking the only capital that matters is how fast you can pick apples, but that’s definitely not a winner-take-all market. However, it’s not central to the book. that a career mission is similar to a scientific breakthrough, so that you need to be on the “cutting edge” of a field in order to find it:

If life-transforming missions could be found with just a little navel-gazing and an optimistic attitude, changing the world would be commonplace. But it’s not commonplace; it’s instead quite rare.

Here, Newport seems to suggest you can only have a mission if you’re “changing the world”. This appears to be a much higher, and more objective bar than he initially set.

Finding a mission is a tall order, according to Newport

The idea that you have to be at the “cutting edge” of your field to find a “mission” feels very elitist. What’s even more discouraging is that he mostly uses Pardis Sabeti as an example throughout his “mission” chapters. Pardis is clearly exceptional, yet only found her mission after:

  • Doing very well at MIT;
  • Winning a Rhodes Scholarship;
  • Getting a PhD in genetics at Oxford, during which she became interested in infectious diseases in Africa; and
  • Publishing a major, widely-cited paper in Nature in 2002 (at the age of 27).

Oh, and she also got an MD at Harvard Medical School while finishing her PhD thesis in her spare time. If that’s what it takes to find a mission, is there any hope for the remaining 99% of us?

I think Newport is simply wrong on this point. There’s no reason why you have to be on the cutting edge to find a “unifying focus” for your career.

3. Overemphasises hard work, discounts role of luck and talent

Newport is clearly a hard-working guy. He describes how he had a four month-gap between accepting a job offer at Georgetown University and starting that job. I probably would’ve used the downtime to do some travelling. Newport uses that time to conduct interviews and write So Good They Can’t Ignore You.

It’s not surprising, then, that Newport extols the virtues of hard work. This is most evident in the chapters about the craftsmanship mindset and deliberate practice. However, in doing so, he overlooks the role that luck and talent can play. There’s definitely a strong sense that “people get what they deserve” throughout the book.

Mike Jackson, director at a cleantech VC

A prime example is how Mike Jackson became a director at a cleantech venture capital firm in Silicon Valley. Mike has a Stanford degree. (I’d wager that you could take a random sample of each Stanford graduating class and turn most of them into some success story.) He gets a job at a new cleantech fund after a referral from an earlier unsuccessful interview (which he got through a personal connection). It sounds like the cleantech fund interview is Mike’s second-ever job interview. He starts as an intern and becomes a director a few years later.

Newport claims that “the fact that [Mike’s] been promoted three times in less than three years underscores the effectiveness of this deliberate approach”. Well, no it doesn’t. The fact that Mike’s been promoted so frequently could be for a host of other reasons, such as:

  • he was naturally gifted;
  • this was a growing firm in a growing industry, with relatively plentiful opportunities; or
  • he was great at networking and building personal connections.

I’m not saying Mike didn’t work hard, but his promotions don’t “prove” the effectiveness of deliberate practice .

It’s not even clear that Mike engaged in deliberate practice at all. A key element of deliberate practice is consistent feedback, allowing the individual to learn and adjust as they go. Newport claims that Mike’s feedback came in the form of “how much money came through the door”, but this is not the kind of feedback you need for deliberate practice. It’s delayed and overly affected by luck.

Newport also says you need “clear goals” for deliberate practice, which is the opposite of what Mike had initially. Mike’s story is less about using deliberate practice to build career capital, and more about how a Stanford graduate can succeed by working hard and getting some lucky breaks. That’s hardly a surprising or inspiring story.

4. Problematic use of examples

Mike Jackson’s story was far from the only problematic anecdote in the book. In fact, Newport’s use of examples were what prompted me to write Anecdotes are not Evidence. His examples feel cherry-picked with a strong dose of hindsight bias, he doesn’t tell the whole story, and he’s not always fair to the people featured in them.

Lisa Feuer vs Joe Duffy

First, let’s look at Newport’s comparison of Lisa Feuer vs Joe Duffy. According to Newport, both worked in advertising, and both were getting tired of the constraints of corporate life. Lisa’s solution to this was to leave advertising altogether to start a (seemingly unsuccessful) yoga business. Joe, on the other hand, built up enough career capital to launch his own (very successful) advertising agency, giving him lots of freedom and job satisfaction. The implication is that Lisa’s move was a career mistake, and she should have acted more like Joe.

When I actually looked up the NYTimes articles Newport cites on Lisa and Joe, it became evident that the story was more complex than this. They were on divergent paths long before Lisa left advertising. It also became clear Newport hadn’t even read the articles fully — let alone talk to Lisa or Joe — as he’d gotten some basic facts wrong. For example, Lisa did not start the business, Karma Kids Yoga — she just taught there.

Before she became a yoga instructor, Lisa had an MA in movement and video and years of professional dance and choreography experience. Her advertising experience, as described in the NYTimes article, consisted of promotion and publicity for her husband’s goth record label. The year they got divorced (2005) was around the time Lisa started teaching yoga. So:

  • It doesn’t sound like Lisa’s move to yoga instruction was triggered by a desire to throw off “the constraints of corporate life” and follow her passion. It may not have been voluntary at all.
  • Lisa’s experience promoting her (now ex-)husband’s record label does not sound all that extensive. She had her son in her early thirties, around the time she started her promotion work. It seems likely this was casual and part-time work, which Lisa balanced with her childcare obligations.
  • Given her extensive background in dance, Lisa may have had more career capital in yoga than in advertising.

In contrast, before Joe Duffy founded his own company, he’d already had decades of experience at advertising agencies. The NYTimes article suggests that Joe grew tired of the agency business around 2004, when he started Duffy & Partners. That was around 30 to 40 years after he’d entered the industry.

Lisa and Joe’s situations are not comparable in the least. Newport himself admits his comparison between Lisa and Joe is not fair:

This comparison is not necessarily fair. We don’t know that Feuer could have replicated Duffy’s success if she had stayed in marketing and advertising and had focused her restless energy on becoming excellent. But as a metaphor, the story works nicely.

But that doesn’t stop him from making it.

Giles Bowkett

Later, when talking about the “law of financial viability” as a way to avoid the control traps, Newport says that “when you look at stories of people who were unsuccessful in adding more control to their careers, you often find this law has been ignored”.

Again, he picks on Lisa Feuer. However, Lisa had paying clients. Before the GFC, she was able to make ends meet, earning between $35 and $65 per class. She wasn’t a high earner by any stretch — the article states that an annual income of $15,000 represents a 30 percent drop from the past — but she may have already been taking the most financially viable path open to her.

Let’s contrast Newport’s treatment of Lisa Feuer to that of Giles Bowkett. Giles quit his programming job at an investment bank shortly after the dot-com crash, when recruiters told him he should be “thrilled to have a job” at all. Newport writes:

Giles being Giles, however, he ignored the recruiter, quit his job, and moved back to Sante Fe. He lived in a rented camper on his parents’ land, helping them build a solar-powered house while taking courses at the local community college. He studied painting, voice, piano, and perhaps most importantly, studio engineering, the class that introduced him to aleatoric music: composition using algorithms. …

He decided that a good mission for him would somehow combine the artistic and technical sides of his life, but he didn’t know how to make this general idea into a money-making reality, so he went searching for answers.

You know what this sounds a lot like? A guy following his passion before he’s found out how to make it financially viable. Luckily for Giles, things worked out, so he ends up as a success story about “mission” rather than a cautionary tale about “passion”.

Jordan Tice

Another story that sounds like someone following their passion is that of Jordan Tice. Newport praises Jordan’s “craftsman mindset” and dedication to honing his music.

But it’s not clear Jordan has very much career capital. As of today, his Facebook page has fewer than 3k followers and his Patreon earns less than $100/month (admittedly, he just started Patreon recently). Of course, Jordan could still be very happy and fulfilled — but that seems to be because he’s doing what he loves, not because he successfully leveraged career capital to obtain greater control over his work.

5. Sexism?

The gender imbalance in Newport’s examples made me raise an eyebrow fairly early on. After I read the positive examples featuring Lulu and Pardis, I thought I may have been overreacting.

However, others have also noticed this pattern in Deep Work, Newport’s next book (some examples here and here), and I thought his treatment of Lisa Feuer was unfair. So I decided to note down all the positive and negative examples in the book:

  • Positive: Steve Martin, Jordan Tice, Joe Duffy, Mike Jackson, Alex Berger (male), Ryan Voiland, Lulu Young, Pardis Sabeti, Kirk French, Giles Bowkett
  • Negative: Thomas, Lisa Feuer, Jane and Sarah.

Surprisingly, apart from Thomas (who later becomes a success story), all the negative examples Newport uses are women! And the positive examples definitely have a male-skew.

Now, I don’t know Cal Newport. He may be a lovely guy, and I’m sure he doesn’t hate women. The gender imbalance in his book may have been inadvertent — but it’s certainly unfortunate and worth calling out.

Conclusion

To summarise, while Cal Newport presents a compelling counterargument to the ‘passion hypothesis’, the book has notable limitations. The situations where he deems it appropriate to leave one’s job is too narrow, and the “mission” chapters lack were generally weak. Furthermore, Newport’s choice of examples is questionable, often cherry-picking certain aspects to suit his narrative, whilst disregarding the vital roles of luck and inherent talent. Perhaps the most troubling aspect of the book is its apparent gender bias, with women featuring in the cautionary tales and men in the success stories.

Despite these issues, the book’s core message is valuable and could be a worthwhile read for individuals grappling with career decisions.

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Am I being too harsh on Cal Newport? Do you think the distinction between “passion” and “mission” is clearer than I’ve suggested? Share your thoughts in the comments below!

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  • 1
    This is not the only part of the book that I think Newport made up. Another example is when he distinguishes between “winner-take-all markets” and “auction markets”. He argues that only one type of career capital matters in the former, while each person might have a unique combination of career capital that matters in the latter. This set off my bullshit detector. While these different markets do exist, I couldn’t find anything to support Newport’s claims about the types of career capital that matter in each (apart from his observation that some top blogs have “notoriously clunky designs”). I mean, in apple-picking the only capital that matters is how fast you can pick apples, but that’s definitely not a winner-take-all market. However, it’s not central to the book.

9 thoughts on “Criticisms of So Good They Can’t Ignore You by Cal Newport

  1. I haven’t read the book but your points seem valid to me. I think it’s particularly weird to think that a mission has to “change the world”. It just seems absurd and extremely out of touch to have that view. Perhaps it comes from being asked to speak to and with a class of global elites? And I suppose it might be a message that they would find appealing or useful.

    I once worked with a guy who was taking a 2 year sabbatical from McKinsey to travel and work in other countries. He was unlike anyone else I knew in that he seemed to find it extremely weird that I (and others) didn’t have ambitions to have an extremely demanding and powerful job. I think he’d spent so much time at elite universities (Harvard) and organisations (McKinsey) that it was a culture shock when he found people who just wanted a nice comfortable life where they got some time to do lots of different things.

    Outside of that group of people, I think most people would be satisfied with having a job or career that exceeded their expectations. It’s probably much easier to that than an idea that you might change the world. But if your expectation is that your mission should change the world then you’re very unlikely to exceed any expectations.

    I think

  2. Yeah, Newport was writing this book around the time that he was grappling some major career decisions himself (e.g. choosing where to become a professor). It sounds like he’d already gotten a lot of career capital and control over his work but still felt like he was missing something. So the “mission” chapters were likely his attempt to to reconcile that search for “something more” with his disdain for the “follow your passion” advice.

    I’ve definitely met people like the McKinsey guy. Especially earlier in my career (a lot of people mellow out later). There are also people who kind of nod and smile when you explain you’re not that ambitious, but I suspect they often think you’re only saying that to save face in case you fail. I’m surprised you haven’t met more of them, to be honest – though I expect they’re more common in big cities and large law firms for obvious reasons.

  3. I’ve met lots of the sorts of people who are at least a little surprised about a lack of a 5 year plan. But this guy seemed genuinely flabbergasted.

    Not exactly sure why, but I was reminded of this chain of thought when I read this earlier today:
    https://ofdollarsanddata.com/if-youre-so-rich-why-are-you-desperate/

    (Interesting that he mentions the Felix Dennis book *How to get rich*, which Derek Sivers also mentioned in the Tim Ferriss podcast. I’ve read the book and found it much more thought provoking than the title would suggest.)

    I like the post, but it also touches on the passion thing, and I think in a misguided way. It quotes Sam Zell as saying that freedom allows you to work on what you want to work on (which might be interpreted as following your passion or mission) leads to wealth because you work much harder on these things when compared to someone else’s priorties dictating your work. But… Sam Zell’s whole life was dedicated to doing real estate deals. When your passion is doing real estate deals, then getting good at your passion might end up quite lucrative. But for the rest of us, our passions might not be such a fertile field!

    1. I agree with the sentiment behind that post that going for freedom/fulfilment is better than going (purely) for money. I don’t agree that money necessarily come as a result because, yeah, not all passions are lucrative. But I think going for freedom/fulfilment will usually involve making sure you have a reasonable baseline of financial stability – because being poor usually makes it harder to obtain freedom or fulfilment.

  4. Just finished reading the book, and my take-away was “Follow your interest” – which isn’t exactly a million miles off the term “Passion”, that Newport riles against.

    The story of the gentleman who quits his corporate job to become a monk, and then goes back to the corporate world, is an excellent example of why following your passion is important. The moral taken away by Newport is that dropping a steady job for a passion is a mistake. The moral I took away from it, is that following a passion and then realising that it’s not really for you, is vital.

  5. Agree – Newport’s core argument is difficult to follow given his later chapters about “mission”. I think his main beef was with people who left a steady job without much of a plan. But then he seemed to be fine when Giles Bowkett did that, as it turned out alright for Giles.

  6. Read your review and the book. Your analysis is spot on. I knew there was some read flags when I kept seeing him use cherry picked anecdotes as evidence. Moreover, he denigrates the women and writes like a comp sci bro.

  7. Great post, I also enjoyed the book but felt a bit disheartened with the sentiment. Whilst my job doesn’t meet one of Newport’s exceptions for leaving, something about it doesn’t feel right to me. I feel there is more value and adventure in exploration to be found for me. The book made me worry that leaving would be the wrong decision, this post gives me more confidence in following my gut.

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