The Expert’s Humility

---

My Sustainable Encounter with Antony Thaikkadan

by Albert Schiller

 In a field that changes by the month, is the most important skill not what you know, but your capacity to admit what you do not?

In the modern professional world, we are conditioned to value certainty. The expert is the one with the definitive answer, the confident pronouncement. We build our careers on the foundation of what we know. Yet, in a recent conversation with Antony Thaikkadan, a senior ESG assurance auditor at KPMG, I was introduced to a more powerful and intellectually honest model. His journey into the complex world of sustainability was not one of effortless mastery, but of deliberate, humble learning. His perspective suggests that in a truly dynamic field, the engine of progress is not the confidence of knowing, but the humility of admitting there is always more to learn.

The Admission of a Novice

Antony is candid about his beginnings. When he started his career, ESG was not the "hot topic" it is today. "It was a bit challenging for me," he admits, "basically because ESG was a completely new topic for me." He makes no claim to innate genius. Instead, he speaks of the time and effort it required to find his footing. "It took me some time to learn these things," he says, "I think, almost one year."

This admission is refreshing. It demystifies the expert and grounds their knowledge in the relatable soil of hard work. His expertise was not granted; it was forged through an initial period of intense learning. He enjoys the field now precisely because it continues to present new challenges. With every new client and every new market, he finds different requirements and different regulations. He thrives not on the comfort of the known, but on the stimulus of the unknown.

The Engine of Incompleteness

The most striking part of our discussion was Antony’s assessment of his own expertise today, even after years of working at the highest levels of the field. “I think still, I think I have very limited knowledge,” he stated. This is not false modesty. It is a rational response to the environment he works in. He observes that in the European markets, “every month the things are changing very rapidly.” New laws are proposed, new bills are amended, and the ground is in constant motion.

In this context, a feeling of absolute certainty would be a delusion. Antony’s awareness of his "limited knowledge" is not a weakness but his greatest professional strength. It is the very engine that drives him to stay current. It necessitates that he constantly seeks to understand regulations at a “much more deeper level.”

This mindset also shapes his methodology for growth. He does not rely solely on his own research. He actively cultivates a network of experienced peers. He believes that asking for help is not a sign of failure but a core professional competency. "Asking someone's help is not a bad thing," he asserts. "I always believe sharing knowledge and asking someone for help is good thing."

In a field defined by flux, the traditional model of the static expert is obsolete. Antony’s approach offers a new paradigm: the expert as a perpetual learner. His confidence comes not from a finite pool of knowledge, but from a robust and humble process for acquiring it. This foundation of intellectual humility is what enables the incredible diligence required for his work, a meticulous process of verification we will deconstruct in our upcoming feature.

So what can we take from his approach?

Questions for Audience

1. Antony states he feels he has "limited knowledge" because the ESG field changes so rapidly. How might this mindset be more advantageous for a consultant and their clients than an attitude of absolute certainty?

2. The blog suggests that asking for help is a strength. In your experience, do corporate or professional cultures typically reward this kind of intellectual humility, or do they pressure individuals to project an image of infallible expertise?