Why I HATE "30 under 30" lists

A rant.

(This guy made lots of “30 under 30” lists

On Tuesday, Forbes published its annual “30 under 30” list.

I hated it.

You know what these things are — a look at 30 bright shining stars, people who are excelling at a very young age in a variety of fields from sports to Hollywood to media.

A couple of caveats before I go any further — so as to avoid you thinking I am just a jealous jerk.

1. This is NOT an indictment of ANYONE on this list (or any of these lists). In fact, a woman I used to work with at CNN — Annie Grayer — made the Forbes cut. And she’s great!

2. This is NOT (purely) sour grapes. While I never made a “30 under 30” list (or a “40 under 40” for that matter), I did make a list of the top 50 journalists in 2009. So….

3. I totally get why Forbes (and other media outlets) do these sort of lists. People click on them. If you are mentioned, you share it around social media — amplifying the reach of the article. If you aren’t mentioned, you hate-read them — and wonder whether you have totally failed at life.

It’s that last point that gets me to my real disdain for these sort of lists: They make people (or at least the vast majority of people) feel bad about themselves — and their careers (and lives).

And it’s not just that! They are also premised on the idea that you MUST achieve things at a young age, that the world is defined by shooting stars — and, if you aren’t one by, say, 30 or 40 or whatever, you have failed forever. (No one, it’s worth noting, does a “70 under 70” list.)

As Malcolm Gladwell wrote in the New Yorker of this way of thinking way back in 2008:

Genius, in the popular conception, is inextricably tied up with precocity—doing something truly creative, we’re inclined to think, requires the freshness and exuberance and energy of youth. Orson Welles made his masterpiece, “Citizen Kane,” at twenty-five. Herman Melville wrote a book a year through his late twenties, culminating, at age thirty-two, with “Moby-Dick.” Mozart wrote his breakthrough Piano Concerto No. 9 in E-Flat-Major at the age of twenty-one. In some creative forms, like lyric poetry, the importance of precocity has hardened into an iron law. How old was T. S. Eliot when he wrote “The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock” (“I grow old . . . I grow old”)? Twenty-three. “Poets peak young,” the creativity researcher James Kaufman maintains. Mihály Csíkszentmihályi, the author of “Flow,” agrees: “The most creative lyric verse is believed to be that written by the young.” According to the Harvard psychologist Howard Gardner, a leading authority on creativity, “Lyric poetry is a domain where talent is discovered early, burns brightly, and then peters out at an early age.”

But, the point of Gladwell’s article is that this notion, which is pervasive especially in American culture, is provably false.

For instance, here’s a very incomplete list of people who have achieved GREAT things without being a young genius (and who never made any “30 under 30” lists):

• Toni Morrison

• Vincent Van Gogh

• Martha Stewart

• Sam Walton

• Julia Child

• Betty White

The best case against the need to bloom early is made by David Epstein (who is amazing) in his seminal book “Range: Why Generalists Triumph in a Specialized World.” (David has a terrific Substack too!)

The book opens with two unnamed sports figures. One is a golf prodigy from a very young age — appearing on late-night TV and becoming a champion early and often. The other is more of a generalist. He skis. Plays soccer. Just sort of flits from thing to thing as a kid. Eventually he decides to take tennis more seriously.

The first person, as you likely guessed, is Tiger Woods. The second, which you might not have guessed, is Roger Federer. Both are, unquestionably, legends in their respective sports — in the conversation for the greatest of all time. But while Woods was the platonic ideal of the young savant, Federer was a late bloomer — coming to his tennis ability far later in his life.

(Epstein did a great TED Talk going into far more detail about the theory behind “Range.” You can watch it here.)

The point Epstein (and Gladwell) both make is not that there don’t exist people who succeed wildly at a young age. There are lots of them! But rather it’s that success isn’t solely for the young.

In other words, there is no expiration date on when you can achieve something great. Or become well known. Or rich. Or deeply content. (Defining what “success” means — and what it should mean — are for another post!)

I am, obviously, a bit biased here. I find myself — at age 47 — at a inflection point in my career. I am not eligible for a “30 under 30” list. And I don’t think I am making any “50 under 50” lists (if such things exist.)

I am also mindful of the fact that I spent the first 20+ years of my professional career desperately hoping to make JUST these sorts of lists.

If you asked 25 year old me whether “30 for 30” lists were dumb, I would say definitely not — especially if the list included me! And I am sure that everyone who made this latest Forbes list thinks it’s a very objective measure of success — and a public acknowledgement of all their hard work.

And I am not saying it’s not! I am SURE these people worked hard as hell. And are super smart. And capable. And would be a major value add to any company.

But, as I’ve aged, I’ve come to realize that no matter how bright your star shines at an early age, it dims at some point. And you have to then live the rest of your life.

That fact has been driven home for me by the work of happiness guru (amazing job title!) Arthur Brooks — and specifically his book “From Strength to Strength.”

Brooks summed up the theory of the book in a 2019 Atlantic article. Here’s the key bit — citing Charles Darwin, a MAJOR young achiever, as an example:

Take Charles Darwin, who was just 22 when he set out on his five-year voyage aboard the Beagle in 1831. Returning at 27, he was celebrated throughout Europe for his discoveries in botany and zoology, and for his early theories of evolution. Over the next 30 years, Darwin took enormous pride in sitting atop the celebrity-scientist pecking order, developing his theories and publishing them as books and essays—the most famous being On the Origin of Species, in 1859.

But as Darwin progressed into his 50s, he stagnated; he hit a wall in his research. At the same time an Austrian monk by the name of Gregor Mendel discovered what Darwin needed to continue his work: the theory of genetic inheritance. Unfortunately, Mendel’s work was published in an obscure academic journal and Darwin never saw it—and in any case, Darwin did not have the mathematical ability to understand it. From then on he made little progress. Depressed in his later years, he wrote to a close friend, “I have not the heart or strength at my age to begin any investigation lasting years, which is the only thing which I enjoy.”

Brooks’ contention is that professional decline happens a) to all of us and b) sooner than we think.

But it’s not all doom and gloom! He also believes that we move from what he calls “fluid intelligence” (the stuff of our young years) to “crystallized intelligence” (the stuff of all of our other years). The key, according to Brooks, is recognizing that transition — and leaning into it rather than fighting it.

In other words: You can make ALL the “30 under 30” lists you like. But, that won’t protect you from the inevitable decline that happens to us all. And you will need to find way to be happy (and content) even after your star turn has come and gone.

Do yourself a favor — whether you are 18 or 80: Skip the Forbes list. Go read Epstein or Brooks instead. It will make you much happier.