SME: Title, Credential, or Something Else?

By J. R. Grigsby

Attend enough meetings, spend enough years in a position, become the person everyone calls when a question arises, and eventually someone introduces you as the resident expert. Before long, the designation appears in professional biographies, conference introductions, organizational charts, and LinkedIn profiles.

But is it subject matter expertise, or is it spin?

There is a meaningful difference between possessing specialized knowledge and cultivating the appearance of authority. A title can be assigned, a reputation can be carefully constructed, and confidence can be convincing. None of those, however, necessarily establishes expertise.

So, what actually makes someone an expert—and how do we distinguish demonstrated competence from a well-crafted professional image?

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I have thought about this question a lot over the years, especially as my professional interests and contributions have expanded across a few different but related disciplines. I don't recall which, but one of the courses in the dissertation track for my doctorate focused on imposter syndrome. If you've never read about it, it likely isn't what comes to mind immediately. For me, it was the opposite and something I still find myself grappling with on occasion when I qualify my own expertise.

My husband and I have both published professionally, acted as consultants, spoken at events, taught within our respective disciplines, developed curriculum, and been called to testify in legal proceedings based on our professional expertise; I've also created a few organizational frameworks that are still very much in play.

Those experiences have given me an interesting perspective on the word expert, particularly the distinctions between possessing specialized professional knowledge, providing testimony based on that knowledge, and being formally qualified to offer expert opinions. The differences may seem subtle, but they are important.

The legal system provides a particularly useful point of comparison. It establishes criteria for determining whether specialized knowledge and the opinions derived from it are sufficiently relevant and reliable to assist in resolving a dispute. Outside the courtroom, however, the standards are often less clearly defined.

Professional appointments, promotions, publications, and other forms of recognition may involve established selection criteria, professional review, or independent evaluation. Sometimes the process is rigorous. Other times, the distinction between demonstrated expertise and a convincing self-declaration becomes considerably less apparent.

I have come to believe that expertise, in its broader professional sense, requires something more than being recognized for what you know. It involves what you have done with that knowledge, how you have applied it, and whether your contributions can withstand informed scrutiny.

And in an age when anyone can produce an authoritative-sounding explanation with a well-constructed AI prompt, distinguishing genuine expertise from polished presentation may become increasingly difficult.

That makes it worth examining one setting in which claims of specialized knowledge are subjected to formal standards: the courtroom.

The Legal Distinction

In the United States, Federal Rule of Evidence 702 provides one of the clearest formal standards for expert testimony. The rule recognizes that an individual may qualify through knowledge, skill, experience, training, or education.[1]

No universal requirement exists for a doctorate, a particular professional certification, or a prescribed number of years in an occupation.

But qualification is only the beginning.

The rule also requires that expert testimony help the court understand the evidence or determine a relevant fact, rest on sufficient facts or data, and reflect reliable principles and methods appropriately applied to the facts.

Kentucky's Rule of Evidence 702 applies comparable requirements.[2]

This is an important distinction. A court is not merely interested in whether someone has an impressive résumé. It must consider whether that person's specialized knowledge provides a reliable foundation for the opinions being offered.

And even when someone qualifies to offer expert testimony in one proceeding, that determination does not confer permanent or universal expert status.

Expertise has boundaries.

A highly accomplished educator is not automatically an expert in educational policy. An experienced emergency responder is not necessarily an expert in disaster-recovery strategy. A senior executive may possess extensive leadership experience without having specialized knowledge of organizational evaluation.

The relevant question is not simply, "What position have you held?" It is, "What qualifies you to reach this particular conclusion?"

That question is just as relevant outside a courtroom. An impressive title, lengthy résumé, or confident professional introduction may establish the appearance of credibility. But the substance behind those claims deserves examination.

Which brings us to one of the most common—and frequently misunderstood—qualifications associated with expertise: experience.

The Pigeonhole Trap

We've probably all heard some variation of the old saying, "Those who can't do, teach."

I've never particularly liked that expression because it overlooks an important distinction between performing a skill and possessing the specialized knowledge necessary to teach it.

Consider a statement I once heard: "I can't run a marathon, but I can teach someone to run one."

The person's credibility was immediately challenged with a simple question: "But have you ever run a marathon?" The answer was no.

For some, that answer was enough to dismiss the person's credibility entirely. But should it have been? Not necessarily.

A person might be physically unable to complete a marathon yet possess extensive knowledge of exercise physiology, endurance training, injury prevention, and coaching methods. Conversely, someone who has completed dozens of marathons may be an accomplished runner without possessing the knowledge or instructional skills necessary to coach others effectively.

More revealing questions would focus on the person's training, methods, experience coaching runners, and evidence of successful outcomes.

The ability to perform a task, the ability to teach it, and the expertise required to evaluate it are related, but they are not interchangeable.

This is precisely where the distinction between expertise and spin becomes important. A convincing story about someone's experience may establish an impression of authority, but the details determine whether that authority is justified.

Experience can be an extraordinary teacher. Some professionals without advanced degrees possess judgment, technical knowledge, and problem-solving abilities that far exceed those of individuals with impressive academic credentials.

We should never dismiss experience as a legitimate pathway to expertise. But we must examine experience in context. Twenty years performing a task may produce deep specialization without expertise. It may also amount to repeating a familiar set of activities for twenty years.

Time in a position establishes tenure. It does not, by itself, establish mastery.

And that raises another question: Beyond holding a position or performing its assigned duties, what has the individual actually contributed to the field?

What Have You Done For Me Lately?

This is where my own understanding of expertise has evolved.

I value formal education, continuing professional development, and applied experience. But I am increasingly interested in what professionals contribute beyond their assigned responsibilities.

• Have they developed a method that improves how problems are understood or addressed, or conducted research that adds to an existing body of knowledge?

• Have they published findings, challenged assumptions, developed professional guidance, or taught others?

• Have they created something tangible that other practitioners can examine and use?

None of these accomplishments is mandatory for every kind of expertise. A skilled practitioner can be an expert without publishing a single journal article.

Nevertheless, contributions matter, particularly when someone claims broader authority within a discipline.

In fact, these questions have shaped how I approach my own professional development. I am interested not only in becoming more knowledgeable but also in producing work that others can examine, challenge, refine, and, ideally, use.

For me, contributing to a profession is more meaningful than simply being introduced as an expert within it.

The Real Test May Come When Someone Questions Your Work

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We often associate expertise with confidence. One could argue that confidence and professional presence play an important role in gaining recognition. Without them, even highly capable professionals may struggle to have their knowledge acknowledged. But confidence and appearance are poor substitutes for competence when one's expertise is put to the test.

A compelling speaker may sound authoritative. An impressive title may command attention. Neither, however, establishes that the conclusions being presented are correct.

This becomes painfully apparent when someone begins asking difficult questions. The familiar advice to "fake it till you make it" does not hold up particularly well under serious professional scrutiny. Whether during an audit, a formal review, litigation, or the defense of research, the difference between projecting expertise and demonstrating it can become unmistakable.

When an individual is interviewed or deposed, for instance, questioning may begin with their education, training, experience, professional responsibilities, and the basis of their knowledge. For an expert witness, the examination commonly extends to the methods and evidence supporting the opinions offered.

Not every professional will ever testify in court or be interviewed to provide an expert opinion. But nearly every profession has circumstances in which work can be challenged, questioned, reviewed, or defended.

If you take offense or become unusually defensive when your work is challenged, I would argue that you have not yet developed one of the most important qualities of an expert. This is, of course, a personal standard by which I assess what others have to offer. Expertise should not make us protective of what we know; it should make us curious about what we might have missed.

An expert should be willing to shatter their own concept, examine the pieces, and determine whether the structure was sound in the first place. Then rebuild it, challenge it, and do it again. Expertise is not a destination where our knowledge becomes unquestionable. It is an ongoing willingness to test what we believe we know.

The underlying principle is the same:

Professional credibility becomes more meaningful when a person can demonstrate how they know what they claim to know—and possess the intellectual humility to reconsider it.

The Fine Line Between Expertise and Hubris

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Another characteristic I have come to value in genuine subject matter experts is their willingness to acknowledge what they do not know. Confidence in one's knowledge is important, but when that confidence becomes an assumption of unquestionable authority, expertise can give way to hubris.

The deeper someone ventures into a discipline, the more apparent its complexity becomes. Personally, I find that the familiar saying, "The more I learn, the less I seem to know," becomes increasingly relevant.

Experienced researchers recognize the limits of their methods, while skilled practitioners understand that circumstances change. In both cases, responsible professionals can distinguish between established findings, reasonable interpretations, and unsupported assumptions.

They can also recognize and appreciate when another specialist possesses knowledge they do not. This is not a weakness; it is part of professional maturity.

An individual who claims broad authority over every dimension of a field deserves closer examination than one who can explain precisely where their expertise begins and ends.

Hubris begins when professional confidence becomes a presumption of authority that no longer needs to be questioned, supported, or defended.

And perhaps that is one of the most important distinctions between possessing expertise and merely projecting it. A broad professional background can be valuable, but its breadth alone does not establish specialized competence. The credibility of one's expertise ultimately depends on the substance behind the claim, not the confidence with which it is presented.

So, Who Gets to Call Themselves an Expert?

Outside certain regulated professions and legal proceedings, there is no universal authority responsible for awarding the title of subject matter expert.

Some organizations establish formal competency standards, while others make the designation informally. Professional associations may recognize specialized credentials, while academic communities assess scholarly contributions through research, publication, teaching, and peer review.

Different fields appropriately value different forms of evidence.

We should be careful, therefore, not to create an unnecessarily narrow definition that excludes accomplished practitioners simply because their knowledge was acquired outside a classroom. At the same time, we should not make the designation so broad that it loses meaning.

• A professional title is not evidence of mastery.

• Longevity is not proof of competence.

• A degree does not guarantee sound judgment.

• And the ability to speak confidently about a subject should never be confused with the ability to demonstrate specialized knowledge.

My preferred standard is straightforward.

Can the individual:

• establish a credible foundation of specialized knowledge,

• demonstrate its application,

• explain the reasoning behind their work, and

• identify the boundaries of their competence?

For professionals aspiring to become recognized experts, that standard is worthwhile to pursue.

For organizations selecting employees, consultants, advisers, or speakers, it is an equally worthwhile standard to consider.

I have no objection to the term subject matter expert. I have benefited from the knowledge of extraordinary people whose expertise was developed through very different pathways. Some were accomplished scholars. Others learned their professions through decades of demanding practice.

What they shared was not a particular credential or title. Instead, they could demonstrate what they knew, apply it responsibly, and make meaningful contributions.

Perhaps the most important question is not whether someone has earned the right to call themselves an expert.

It is whether their work gives others a sound reason to recognize them as one.

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[1] Federal Rules of Evidence, Rule 702, Testimony by Expert Witnesses. https://www.law.cornell.edu/rules/fre/rule_702

 [2] Kentucky Rules of Evidence, Rule 702, Testimony by Experts (amended effective July 1, 2024). https://www.kycourts.gov/Courts/Supreme-Court/Supreme%20Court%20Orders/202419.pdf