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The Humbling Reality of Success and Failure

I live in a noisy, exhausting world, haunted with the obscene worship of extraordinary achievement, and equally desperate to bury failure at any cost. Possibly you are thinking: Oh what a dramatic guy. Let me say it's not always the case that I feel this way; it's only when I manage to push myself away from the numbed state of dopamine overload.

Worry not, since the third law of adaptability offers a rare, yet brutal kind of relief: it reminds us that most outcomes are neither pure triumphs nor disasters, but messy regressions toward the mean, ahhh yes, the soothing beauty of math. Success and failure are less personal than we want them to be, and far less permanent. You are never as exceptional or as terrible as you think you are. This principle, rooted in the statistical concept of regression to the mean, carries profound implications for how we approach innovation, resilience, and personal growth.

Understanding Regression to the Mean: The Unforgiving Hand of Mathematics

Discovered and named by Sir Francis Galton in the late 19th century, regression to the mean is a cold, mathematical reality: Extreme outcomes are statistical anomalies, and anomalies don’t perpetuate themselves. Over time, results naturally move back toward the average.

In simpler terms, outlier performances, whether exceptionally good or bad- are typically followed by more moderate outcomes. It’s not karma, not “the universe balancing itself,” and not a motivational poster about "resilience." It’s just probability at work.

This principle appears throughout the natural world and human systems:

• A sports team that has an extraordinary winning streak will eventually return to performance levels closer to its historical average

• Investment returns that dramatically outperform the market in one period often underperform in subsequent periods

• "Legendary" CEOs shine during peak moments, but the cold math of regression always catches up. Early outperformance is often followed by average—or even disappointing—results, either during or after their tenure. Jack Welch (GE), Elon Musk (Tesla/Twitter), Howard Schultz (Starbucks), and Travis Kalanick (Uber) are just a few examples.

The implication? Much of what we attribute to skill or failure is statistical variance, random fluctuations that create the illusion of consistent excellence or consistent inadequacy. Outliers create headlines; regression writes history.

The Correlation-Causation Fallacy

One of the more profound insights from the third law is grasping the brutal difference between correlation and causation. We are pattern-hungry creatures, wired to stitch cause and effect into every outcome we see. When we win, we tell ourselves it's because we are brilliant. When we lose, we blame timing, bad luck, or some external villain.

The truth is less flattering, but there is wisdom in knowing that most outcomes are a tangled mess of skill, randomness, and invisible systemic forces we barely understand.  Understanding this doesn't make life easier. It just makes it more honest. 

Quantity of Failures: The Hidden Predictor of Success

Perhaps the most counterintuitive aspect of the third law is this powerful insight: The quantity of failures is the best indicator of success.

As Leonard Mlodinow notes in "Drunkard's Walk: How Randomness Rules Our Lives": "In a complex endeavor, no matter how many times we fail, if we keep trying, there's often a good chance we'll eventually succeed."

This isn't merely motivational rhetoric—it's (let me insist) mathematical reality. The more attempts we make, the more likely we are to achieve breakthrough moments. Let me explain why:

• Prolific creators often produce more masterpieces than selective creators

• Entrepreneurs with multiple failed ventures often eventually succeed

• Scientists who conduct numerous experiments may make more discoveries

The number of previous failures becomes the most absolute indicator of your adaptability. Every failure represents not just a lesson learned but a statistical step toward eventual success.

Embracing Regression in Practice

How can we apply this law to enhance our adaptability?

1. Moderate your reactions to both success and failure. Success doesn't mean you're invincible; failure doesn't mean you're incompetent. Both are often statistical events within a normal distribution of outcomes.
   
   

2. Increase your volume of attempts. If success is partially a numbers game, the logical approach is to increase your attempts. Create more, pitch more, try more approaches.
   
   

3. Document and learn from patterns. While individual outcomes may vary, patterns across multiple attempts reveal valuable insights about your process.
   
   

4. Reframe failure as data collection. Each failure provides information that increases the probability of future success.
   
   

5. Celebrate persistence over perfection. The ability to continue despite setbacks becomes more valuable than avoiding failure altogether.
   
   

The Collective Dimension: recalling the second law of adaptability.

While regression to the mean might seem like a sobering reminder of our limitations as individuals, it actually highlights the power of collective effort. When we combine multiple perspectives and approaches, we expand our range of attempts and increase our odds of breakthrough success.

As highlighted in the concept that "we are designed to fail individually and thrive collectively," regression to the mean reminds us that no single person can consistently outperform randomness. But together, through collaboration and shared learning, we can achieve consistent progress beyond what statistical variance would predict for any individual.

Conclusion: Success as a Volume Game

The third law of adaptability fundamentally reframes how we think about success and failure. Rather than viewing achievement as the result of inherent talent or perfect strategy, we understand it as partially the outcome of statistical persistence—making enough attempts to break through despite regression to the mean.

This perspective is simultaneously humbling and empowering. It tempers our ego when we succeed and our despair when we fail. Most importantly, it shifts our focus from avoiding failure to increasing our volume of attempts, recognizing that in the long run, the quantity of our failures may indeed be the best predictor of our ultimate success.

In a world that often celebrates overnight success and hides the countless attempts that preceded it, regression to the mean reminds us of a fundamental truth: adaptability isn't about never failing, it's about failing productively, repeatedly, and with the statistical wisdom that persistence itself is the strategy.

My personal Bonus: Why you shouldn’t let people admire you.

“True words are not agreeable; agreeable words are not true.”

(Tao Te Ching, ch. 81)

"Admiration Is a Cage: A Few Unkind Thoughts About Being Liked"

I tend to distrust people who say they admire me; luckily, it does not happen very often. It could be an immigrant trait. Aha, they want something from me, and they're using flattery to gain the edge.  Let me tell you something that most people either suspect in secret or realize too late to do anything about: being admired is not a compliment. It is not a gift. It is not even safe.

It is a slow, sweet poison that tells you you’re special, but admiration is never about you. It’s about the projection of someone else's longing onto your silhouette. Admiration turns you into a vessel: for dreams, for myths, for unmet expectations. The admired person becomes a puppet pulled by the invisible string of other people’s desires.

Worse: if you let people admire you, you open the door for a very insidious form of manipulation, because it’s wrapped in flattery. And we ALL fall for it. We eat it. We need it, like sugar or applause. But admiration demands performance. Once you're admired, you're no longer allowed to be ordinary. You're not allowed to disappoint. You're not allowed to step down, make a mistake, or just be boring.

Let people admire you for long enough, and you’ll find yourself slowly becoming what they want, not what you are. You’ll say yes when you mean maybe. You'll smile when you mean nothing. You'll choose the path of applause instead of the path of truth, and eventually, you won’t even remember there was a difference.

And here’s the kicker: admiration and resentment are roommates. They share a bed. People admire you because they believe you have something they don’t, or can’t. But admiration always contains a sliver of envy, and envy curdles into contempt the moment you cease to deliver.

The line between “I adore you” and “I can’t stand you” is paper-thin and oil-slicked.

So no, don’t let them admire you. Let them know you, love you or hate you. Let them challenge you. Let them see you unsure, unfinished, and still becoming. That is harder. That is slower. That is real. And it is the only way to keep from becoming a beautiful lie.