Blog

The Dunning–Kruger Effect of Inclusion in Veterinary Medicine

“We already treat everyone fairly”

“We don’t discriminate here.”

“Our clinic is already inclusive.”

If you’ve ever heard these phrases — or caught yourself saying them — you’ve seen the paradox at the heart of veterinary medicine’s inclusion journey. On one hand, we entered this profession because we care — about animals, about people, about doing the right thing. On the other, we often assume that these kindness and compassion automatically translate into inclusive practice — without recognising the complexity that true equity demands.

Here’s the trap: when it comes to equity and inclusion, veterinary medicine often demonstrates a classic Dunning–Kruger pattern. Strong confidence, limited capability, and little awareness of what is missing.

Most veterinary leaders genuinely believe they are inclusive. They believe it because they are kind, because they care about fairness, and because they would never intentionally discriminate.

That belief is sincere. It is also one of the profession’s biggest blind spots.

When inclusion is assumed rather than examined, it stops being a discipline and becomes a belief system. And belief systems are difficult to audit, improve, or govern.

What’s the Dunning–Kruger Effect?

First described in 1999 by psychologists David Dunning and Justin Kruger, the effect describes a cognitive bias where people with limited knowledge or skill in a domain tend to overestimate their competence.

• The less we know, the more confident we feel.

• As knowledge grows, our confidence dips — we realise how much we don’t yet know.

• Only with deeper expertise does confidence return, balanced with humility.

It’s not arrogance. It’s a blind spot: when you don’t know what you don’t know, it’s easy to think you’ve already mastered it.

Why Inclusion Is Especially Prone to It

Inclusion is especially vulnerable because of different phenomena:

• Moral halo: “We’re good people; we care.” (Moral intent ≠ inclusive outcomes.)

• Invisible curriculum: Most vets never received formal training in accessibility, disclosure safety, or equity-centred leadership. What is never taught is rarely recognised as missing.

• Low signal, high noise: Token gestures (morning teas, posters, awareness days) look like progress, drowning out the absence of structural change.

• Definitional fuzziness: “Fairness” is conflated with “sameness,” and “diversity” with “inclusion.”

The result is high confidence without the underlying capability, followed by frustration when outcomes (retention, disclosures, complaints) don’t improve.

Put simply, confidence without infrastructure.

How It Shows Up in Our Profession

Inclusion in vet med often gets caught in this loop. Let’s look at some common patterns:

1.  Kindness mistaken for inclusion:

Veterinary teams pride ourselves on being kind, compassionate people. Many leaders assume that treating everyone with respect is the same as inclusion. Yet, kindness doesn’t remove systemic barriers. Friendly teams still churn neurodivergent staff if meetings, rosters, and feedback are not adapted. “Open door” policies are no substitute for psychologically safe processes.

2. Policy mirage:

This is where performative gestures are employed in lieu of structural change. A generic “non-discrimination” paragraph is treated as sufficient. Hanging a Pride poster, doing a “cultural diversity morning tea,” or posting about International Women’s Day matters — but these are surface-level unless backed by structural reform.

True inclusion looks like reviewing job ads for biased language, ensuring physical spaces are accessible, embedding disclosure safety into policies, and training leaders to respond to real situations, not just celebrate awareness days.

3. DIY fallacy:

Because inclusion feels like common sense, many in our profession assume there’s nothing new to learn. As a result DEI consultants are told “we’ve already got this covered.”, lived-experience staff are thanked for sharing, but their recommendations never make it into policy, or evidence from workforce surveys is ignored because it doesn’t match leadership perception.

Saying “We’ll handle this internally.” means that without capability, you scale errors—especially during recruitment and performance management.

4. Perception gaps:

Time and again, data shows that senior leaders rate their workplace as “highly inclusive,” while staff report fear of disclosure, inconsistent accomodations, or inequities in career progression. Those who are least impacted by the barriers often see the least of them. This is textbook Dunning-Kruger..

5. Accommodation Fatigue:

The common refrain is: “We can’t tailor for everyone.” Equity is seen as endless exceptions rather than designing the default to work for more people. Universal design avoids this issue, and true inclusion uses a hybrid model of raising the baseline, while customising for individuals who may have specific needs.

Why It’s Risky

Treating this as a “culture problem” understates the risk.

Inclusion failures now intersect with workforce sustainability, client trust, and psychosocial safety obligations. When exclusion, lack of consultation, or unsafe disclosure environments persist, the consequences are not abstract.

Talented staff leave. Burnout accelerates. Reputational credibility erodes. Legal and governance risks increase.

Believing you are already inclusive is not neutral. It actively delays corrective action.

The Antidote: From Overconfidence to Competence

The cure for Dunning–Kruger is not shame — it’s learning.

1. Humility first:

   Leaders must be willing to admit: “I don’t know enough about this yet.” That statement alone shifts culture from defensiveness to growth.

2. Metrics over assumptions:

   Run staff surveys, do accessibility audits, review policies with an inclusion lens. Data helps bridge the gap between perception and lived experience.

3. Centre lived experience:

   Instead of assuming what staff need, ask. Create forums where colleagues can share without fear of repercussion. And when they do, act on it.

4. Bring in specialist expertise:

   Inclusion is a professional skillset, not just common sense. We wouldn’t diagnose a colic horse via Google; we shouldn’t treat DEI as something we can improvise without training.

5. Shift the frame:

   Inclusion is not about “being nice.” It’s about systemic responsibility: designing workplaces where everyone can thrive without having to fight for belonging.

Inclusion must be treated the way we treat clinical competence. That means acknowledging limits. Measuring outcomes rather than relying on intent. Seeking specialist expertise rather than improvising. Designing systems that reduce friction by default.

We would never say, “I’m a good person, so my anaesthesia protocols must be safe.” Inclusion deserves the same rigour.

A Profession at a Crossroads

We can continue to rely on goodwill and assume inclusion will happen organically. Or we can accept that inclusion is a technical, leadership, and governance discipline that requires skill, structure, and investment.

The first path feels comfortable. It preserves confidence. The second path feels confronting. It exposes blind spots. Only one of them keeps people in the profession.

This is the takeaway: Inclusion isn’t a feeling or a poster on the wall. It’s a skillset, a strategy, and a responsibility.

Are We in the Dunning–Kruger Zone? (10 Signals)

Score each 0–2 (0 = not us, 1 = sometimes, 2 = often). Scoring more than 12 suggests meaningful risk.

1. We say “we treat everyone the same” as a proof point.

2. “We don’t discriminate” is our primary policy language.

3. Inclusion actions = posters, morning teas, or a one-off talk.

4. We’ve never run an accessibility audit or inclusive hiring review.

5. No formal disclosure pathway (who, how, what’s recorded, protections).

6. Leaders haven’t been trained in response scripts for real scenarios.

7. “Fit” is used in hiring without a structured rubric.

8. We rely on goodwill to handle adjustments (no budget, no process).

9. We haven’t measured belonging or psychological safety in the last 12 months.

10. When issues arise, we assume individual weakness rather than system design.

The Dunning–Kruger effect is not an insult, but a map. If inclusion feels obvious, that is often a sign that important things are being missed. And the moment we admit we are not yet as competent as we assumed, we finally give ourselves permission to build something better.