How an interdisciplinary research team taught me to lead with humility

From ScienceMag:

It was a nerve-wracking moment in my career. I had just received a grant to tackle a large interdisciplinary research project. Up to that point, I had mostly managed a small team of Ph.D. students in my own discipline, mining engineering. Now, I had to lead a group of 20 researchers from disparate fields and turn their knowledge into something we could put into practice. I assumed the best approach would be to make sure I understood every facet of the project, provide clear direction, and have answers when others were uncertain. But that approach led my team astray.

Our first major decision came a few weeks into the project, when we had to agree on how to design a mining machine to break rock mechanically. I proposed its main structural layout largely from my experience, using mining concepts I knew well. In project meetings that included mechanical engineers, sensor experts, and others, I confidently introduced the design. When no one challenged it, I took that as a sign that we had agreed on a direction. We quickly moved on to discussions of how each group could contribute to building it.

Months later, after we had produced the components and assembled the machine, some unexpected problems appeared. The arm at the back was so heavy that the supporting structure threatened to bend. The weight at the rear made the whole thing less stable. And when we tried to drive it, we found that turning the machine took much more space than we expected. There was no way it would work in deep underground tunnels.

I called the team together to discuss how to fix the issues. At first, we talked about minor adjustments. But the more we talked, the more I realized the problem was my initial design. So, I asked my team a different question: If you could adjust the main layout, what would you change?

That’s when we finally made progress. A structural expert suggested adding a support wheel. A mechanical engineer suggested adding a joint, so the machine could turn more effectively. They were both seeing the design from a perspective that I hadn’t been able to see myself. It took us more time, and came at a high cost, but we eventually found a way to fix the machine.

Afterward, my team members told me they had noticed the flaws in the initial design much earlier, but they hadn’t dared to raise their concerns. I was the project leader, mining engineering was my field, and I had presented the design confidently, using specialist terms they were not familiar with.

Reflecting on that experience, I began to see my role differently. I wanted to create an atmosphere in which people felt comfortable asking questions and sharing dissenting opinions. To encourage that, I began to model that kind of behavior myself. I went into meetings no longer trying to have an answer to every question. When I did not understand something, I said so and asked. I wanted the team to see that saying “I don’t know” was acceptable, even for the team leader.

Gradually others began to do the same. Team members became more willing to challenge ideas and say when they did not understand a term or concept. They also started to explain complex ideas in more general language and think more carefully about whether colleagues from other fields could follow their reasoning. The discussions took longer, but previously hidden disagreements and questions became easier to see.

Interdisciplinary work can be a powerful approach to research, because every discipline has its own blind spots, including mine. But it can be tricky to harness collective knowledge and ensure the team works smoothly. I have come to realize the best approach as a leader is to embrace humility and to make clear that all team members have a voice at the table. Ultimately, it’s not my job to see everything; my job is to help the team see what none of us could see alone.

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