There’s a reason The Emperor’s New Clothes has survived for centuries.
It isn’t really a story about vanity.
Or incompetence.
It’s a story about language and safety.
Everyone could see the problem.
What no one could see was a safe way to name it.
So silence won.
What’s interesting is that the problem was never hidden.
It was shared.
Almost obvious.
Yet it still became untouchable.
That dynamic didn’t disappear with fairy tales.
It simply learned to speak more politely.
From Problems to “Challenges”
Somewhere along the way, organizations decided that problem was too heavy a word.
So it was softened.
Problems became challenges.
Or issues.
Or topics to be addressed.
At first glance, this sounds progressive.
Language matters, after all.
But notice what quietly shifts.
A problem demands attention.
A challenge sounds optional.
A problem asks to be understood.
A challenge invites you to move past it quickly.
In cultures that prize positivity and momentum, naming a problem can feel like resistance — as if you’re slowing things down or failing to be “agile enough.”
So instead of staying with the problem, we reframe it.
When Agility Turns into Motion
Agility was meant to help organizations learn faster.
And often, it does.
But I’ve noticed something else happening alongside it.
We move quickly.
We patch.
We workaround.
We ship fixes.
And we call that progress.
Speed creates momentum — but not necessarily understanding.
Bandages get applied before diagnoses are made.
Symptoms are treated while root causes remain conveniently untouched.
The organization stays busy, responsive, optimistic —
while the same problems quietly resurface.
Different meeting.
Different slide.
Same issue.
When the Problem Turns Red
I saw this play out during a review with an executive leader.
One of his KPIs was red.
Nothing dramatic.
Nothing unexpected.
Still, the room tightened.
The conversation didn’t move toward understanding what the number was telling us.
It moved toward how quickly it could be turned green.
Not because anyone lacked intent or maturity.
But because red had stopped being information.
Red had become exposure.
And in environments where positivity and pace are rewarded, exposure feels risky.
So instead of staying curious, we tried to move on.
That’s when it became clear to me:
the challenge wasn’t solving the problem —
it was allowing it to exist long enough to be understood.
What Gets Lost
Great solutions don’t come from optimism alone.
They come from precision.
From naming what isn’t working without softening it.
From resisting the urge to reframe too early.
But that requires something many organizations haven’t designed for:
permission to say, “This is the problem.”
When the word problem itself becomes uncomfortable, agility turns superficial.
Teams get better at explaining.
Better at justifying.
Better at staying positive.
And worse at solving the things that actually matter.
Falling in Love with the Problem — For Real
“Fall in love with the problem” was never meant to be a slogan.
It was meant to slow us down.
To force clarity before creativity.
Understanding before action.
Because the quality of a solution is limited by the honesty of the problem statement that precedes it.
If problems must be renamed to feel safe,
no amount of agility will get you to a great solution.
You don’t need fewer problems.
You need more courage to name them.
And to stay with them.
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