Success Doesn’t Prove Anything
What if the people you admire are just good at faking the scoreboard?
Success has become the ultimate credential — but what if it’s just the best disguise for mediocrity?
“If he’s successful, he must be doing something right.”
That’s what the man next to me said — arms crossed, face smug — while we were watching a CEO give a talk that was, frankly, embarrassing.
Buzzwords like “synergistic alignment” and “authentic storytelling” flew across the room like empty candy wrappers. It was style with zero substance.
And yet, everyone nodded.
Why?
Because his company was valued at $200M.
Because he’d “exited twice.”
Because he flew in from Austin.
Nobody wanted to admit that maybe — just maybe — this guy was an idiot with good timing.
It made me wonder:
What if success doesn’t prove anything — except your ability to win the wrong game?
Success isn’t a signal. It’s a shield.
We’ve been trained to see success as the ultimate argument stopper.
"He made millions, so who are you to judge?"
"She has 500K followers, so she must know what she’s doing."
"Look at the results. The method doesn’t matter."
Except it does matter.
In fact, the method is often the problem.
We confuse outcomes with integrity.
We mistake visibility for value.
We elevate people not because they’re wise — but because they’re loud, lucky, or ruthless.
Worse: the moment someone succeeds, we stop asking real questions.
That’s how charlatans become gurus.
That’s how toxic managers become “visionaries.”
That’s how bullshit scales — until you’re the weird one for pointing it out.
The illusion of proof
In court, there’s a difference between evidence and proof.
Evidence can be compelling — but it can also be misleading.
Success is like that. It suggests merit. But it doesn’t prove it.
Jeff sells $1M/month of coaching — but plagiarizes half his ideas.
Lisa raised $10M — but burned through it with zero product-market fit.
Dylan got promoted 3x in 4 years — by playing office politics better than anyone else.
These people look like they’re winning.
But peel back the curtain and it’s mostly survival, not excellence. Performance, not depth.
And yet, we quote them. We invite them to speak. We copy their “routines.”
Why?
Because we’ve outsourced our judgment to results.
We’re addicted to the scoreboard.
The myth of reverse-engineering success
If someone wins the lottery, you don’t study how they picked the numbers.
But when someone wins in business, we dissect their "mindset" like it's a replicable science.
Spoiler: It’s not.
Success is never just talent + hard work. It’s:
Right timing
The right gatekeeper liking you
No one suing you yet
Being early (or late) enough to catch a wave
Being underestimated (or overestimated) in exactly the right way
In short: a series of unrepeatable coincidences, wrapped in a polished story after the fact.
But here’s the kicker: even those who got lucky start believing they earned it.
And they start teaching — not what works — but what worked once, for them, in conditions that no longer exist.
That’s not education. That’s fan fiction.
What success actually reveals
Here’s a harsher take:
Success is often a better indicator of someone’s appetite for manipulation than their genius.
Because the modern system doesn’t reward quality.
It rewards:
Distribution hacks
Algorithm-friendly content
Fake scarcity
Identity performance
Being early in a hype cycle and loud while it's peaking
If you’ve ever wondered, “How did this person get so far?”
The answer is often: they were willing to play dirtier than you.
And that doesn’t mean you should.
But it means you should stop worshiping their playbook.
So what now?
This isn’t a call to reject success.
But it’s a reality check on how we interpret it.
Ask yourself:
Would you respect this person if you didn’t know their numbers?
Would their ideas hold up if they weren’t on a stage?
Do you admire their thinking — or just their metrics?
And maybe most important:
Do you want their results… or their life?
Sometimes, success is just noise.
Sometimes, it’s a mask.
And sometimes — it’s exactly what it looks like: the reward for playing a broken game very, very well.
Rare resources
→ “The Status Game” by Will Storr — explains how people rise not by being right, but by performing the right identity
→ “Skin in the Game” by Nassim Taleb — makes a case for judging people not by their results, but by what they risked to get them
→ Farnam Street podcast ep. w/ Michael Mauboussin — on base rates, survivorship bias, and what performance really measures
Mental snapshot of this article
What we’re about to explore next isn’t about success or failure — it’s about the meaning of both.
Who defines what matters? Who benefits when we stop asking why?
And how do you build something that still feels real when the applause dies down?
What Success Fails to Show You
When we strip away the labels, the numbers, the applause — what are we really left with?
In this free premium section, we go beyond the façade. We’ll explore:
the blind spots of modern success culture
how to assess value in a system built on noise
stories of people who "made it" and felt hollow — or worse, trapped
how to build proof that doesn't depend on approval
and a 7-step protocol to test your own metrics, before the world does
Let’s begin with the quiet truth most people don’t dare say out loud:
The Problem No One Talks About
The more successful you become, the harder it is to tell the truth — even to yourself.
Why?
Because the moment the world rewards you, you become invested in preserving the story that got you there.
Even if that story was fake. Even if you’ve outgrown it.
Here’s the paradox:
Success locks you into a persona that may no longer be real.
It’s not just the gurus and influencers.
It's startup founders clinging to a vision that doesn't work.
Coaches repeating lines they no longer believe.
Writers trapped in a niche that pays but bores them.
They can’t afford to evolve, because evolution threatens the illusion their success is built on.
Real-life Scenes (Not Hypotheticals)
Scene 1: The Startup Founder Who Wants Out
Jakob, 32, is standing in the corner of a sleek Berlin rooftop, beer in hand, fake smile on.
Everyone’s congratulating him on raising €7M.
He hasn’t told anyone he wants to shut the company down.
His voice, when he speaks to me, is low:
“I know how to raise. I just don’t want to build this thing anymore. I don't believe in it.”
But the press is watching. Investors are watching. His LinkedIn clout depends on the game continuing.
So he plays.
But inside, he’s grieving something he doesn’t know how to name: the death of his own curiosity.
Scene 2: The Creator Who Can’t Pivot
Sabrina blew up on Instagram in 2021 giving “productivity hacks.”
She hates the word now.
She’s grown. She’s deeper. She wants to talk about burnout, mortality, art.
But every time she posts something different, engagement drops.
She calls it “algorithm anxiety.” But it’s deeper than that.
“I’m scared to become invisible. It took me so long to be seen.”
Her success became a trap: it taught her that being liked matters more than being real.
And now she doesn’t know how to get out.
Scene 3: The Corporate Winner Who Feels Like a Ghost
Alex made partner at 38. McKinsey. You know the type.
Tailored suit, perfect slides, four languages.
He says the right things. Hits the numbers. Makes the rounds.
But last month, at a hotel bar in Dubai, he looked up from his laptop and whispered:
“It’s weird. I don’t feel anything. But I’m terrified to leave. Because outside this job… I don’t exist.”
His success became a container — and now, it’s his whole identity.
So What’s the Pattern?
Behind all these stories is the same quiet ache:
“I did what they said would work. I played the game right.
But I don’t know who I am outside of it.”
That’s the hidden cost of success-as-proof:
You lose the ability to self-validate.
And the system is built to exploit that.
It doesn’t just want you to win. It wants you to need to keep winning — or disappear.
The New Question: How Do You Know It’s Real?
Here’s what I’ve come to believe:
True success isn’t what you can show.
It’s what you can withstand losing without losing yourself.
So, here’s a protocol. Not for becoming successful.
But for testing whether what you’ve built is real, aligned, and resilient.
A Protocol for Building Proof That’s Yours
Step 1 — Remove your audience.
Would you still be doing this if no one saw it?
If not, what would you do instead?
Step 2 — Remove the money.
Would you do it if it paid nothing for a year?
If not, is this your work — or just a rental job with better lighting?
Step 3 — Reverse the validation.
What feedback are you ignoring because it doesn’t flatter you?
Ask for critiques from people who aren’t impressed by your success.
Step 4 — Track the energy, not just the output.
After a work session, do you feel more clear or more fragmented?
The body keeps score. Trust it.
Step 5 — Kill a golden goose (on purpose).
Say no to one revenue stream or audience segment that feels misaligned.
Watch what happens — to your metrics, and to your nervous system.
Step 6 — Name what you’d build if you weren’t afraid.
Write it down. In detail. That’s your north star.
Your real work lives there.
Step 7 — Find your 3 real mirrors.
People who see you, not your brand.
Run every major decision through them before the crowd gets a say.
2-Year Forecast: What’s Coming
This isn’t just about you.
The whole culture of proof-by-success is about to collapse under its own weight.
Here’s what to expect:
Signal > Follower count. Long-form, niche, and deep expertise will matter more than virality.
Outcomes will get harder to fake. AI tools will saturate the market, but taste and discernment will become scarcer — and more valued.
Reputation risk will spike. As more creators, CEOs, and experts get exposed, the public will become hyper-skeptical of flashy success.
Desire for “earned wisdom” will rise. People will crave leaders who’ve paid a price, not just gained an audience.
In short: proof will shift from external signals to internal consistency.
The future belongs to those who don’t just win — but win with spine.
Questions I Had to Sit With (Maybe You Will Too)
“If I lost everything I’ve built, would I still feel whole?”
“What part of my work is mine — and what part is me role-playing success?”
“Who would I disappoint if I told the truth?”
“What would I say if I knew no one could cancel or applaud me?”
Final Thought
Success isn’t bad.
But using it as proof of your value is like measuring depth with a ruler.
Eventually, it breaks.
And when it does, you’ll want something sturdier to stand on.
Like clarity.
Like alignment.
Like knowing — deep down — that your work is worth doing, even if no one claps.
Thanks for reading.
Real success is simple. Health, happiness, friends, a roof. Clean water. Things we take for granted that many don’t. It’s about feeling gratitude. Deep subject. Good read!
This is very heartening for someone like me with very slow growth and nothing at all left to lose. I love writing. I love what I'm figuring out by writing. This (article) makes sense and I am sometimes grateful for fewer subscribers for the reasons you articulated. I chase approval like the shiny toy it is, but here I'm stuck with writing and thinking in a way that I respect, and which helps me. Without the ability (or desire) to work the algorithm or gain anything in particular, I'm free to actually get better. At the pace that I can handle, and forced (again and again) to examine my true metrics - is it helpful? Is it evidence-based? Is it kind? Is it worth saying? Is it agenda-less? These are healing processes for me, and with the rise of AI and so very many polarizing and angry opinions online, they feel a little subversive at times. But safe, and whole, and ultimately constructive, rather than reactive.
Thanks for such an articulate suggestion as to how to navigate what will likely be quite a bumpy next few years for creators of all types!