I've sat in a lot of meetings where everyone knew something was wrong but nobody said it.
The timeline was unrealistic. The architecture wouldn't scale. The client's requirements contradicted each other. Everyone could see it. Nobody wanted to be the one to say it.
So nobody did. And six months later, the project failed in exactly the way everyone privately predicted.
I'd rather be right than polite. Hard truths now cost less than comfortable lies later.
Why people avoid truth
Truth creates friction. It makes people uncomfortable. It can make you unpopular.
Saying "this won't work" when everyone else is nodding along takes courage. It risks being seen as negative, difficult, not a team player. In many organizations, the path of least resistance is to go along, raise concerns quietly, and let reality do the correcting later.
But reality is an expensive teacher.
The project that should have been killed in week two runs for six months before failing. The technical debt that should have been addressed early compounds until it's a crisis. The client relationship that should have been reset continues on false pretenses until it explodes.
Avoiding truth doesn't make problems disappear. It just delays them — and usually makes them worse.
What truth-telling actually looks like
I'm not talking about being harsh, abrasive, or tactless. That's not truth-telling. That's just being an asshole with an excuse.
Truth-telling means:
Challenging assumptions early. Before the project kicks off, not after it's in trouble. "Have we validated that users actually want this?" is easier to ask in week one than week twenty.
Asking uncomfortable questions. "What happens if this doesn't work?" "What are we not talking about?" "Why do we believe this will succeed when similar projects haven't?"
Rejecting vague answers. "We'll figure it out" isn't a plan. "It should be fine" isn't an analysis. Specificity reveals gaps. Vagueness hides them.
Stress-testing ideas before they become expensive. Poking holes in a proposal costs nothing. Discovering those holes in production costs everything.
The discomfort is the point
If it were easy to say, everyone would say it. The value of truth-telling is precisely that it's uncomfortable.
When I raise a concern that nobody else is raising, one of two things happens:
- I'm wrong, and someone explains why. I learn something.
- I'm right, and we avoid a problem. The project benefits.
Either outcome is better than silence.
The discomfort I feel raising the issue is almost always less than the discomfort everyone will feel when the issue becomes a crisis. Discomfort now is cheaper than failure later.
How I apply this
In consulting: I tell clients what they need to hear, not what they want to hear. If their plan won't work, I say so — even if it means losing the engagement. My reputation depends on being right, not on being agreeable.
In technical decisions: I argue for what I believe is correct, even when it's unpopular. If the team wants to use a technology I think is wrong for the problem, I make the case. I might be overruled, but I won't be silent.
In feedback: I give honest assessments, even when they're hard to hear. Sugar-coating doesn't help anyone improve. Direct feedback, delivered with respect, is a gift.
In self-assessment: I try to be honest with myself about what's working and what isn't. Self-deception is the most expensive kind.
The balance
Truth without tact is cruelty. The goal isn't to hurt people. It's to help them — and to help the project, the team, the organization.
There's a difference between:
- "This is a terrible idea" (unhelpful)
- "I see some risks with this approach. Can we talk through them?" (helpful)
Both might convey the same underlying concern. One invites collaboration. The other invites defensiveness.
The goal is to surface reality, not to score points. To solve problems, not to assign blame. To be accurate and durable, not impressive or agreeable.
The cost of comfort
I've seen what happens when organizations optimize for comfort over truth:
Projects fail predictably. Everyone saw it coming. Nobody said anything. The post-mortem reveals that half the team had concerns they never raised.
Problems compound. Small issues become big issues. Big issues become crises. By the time someone finally speaks up, it's too late for an easy fix.
Trust erodes. When people realize that honesty isn't valued, they stop offering it. The organization loses its ability to self-correct.
Good people leave. The ones who care about quality, about outcomes, about doing things right — they get tired of watching preventable failures. They go somewhere their honesty is valued.
The principle
I value correctness more than politeness.
Not because I enjoy conflict. Because I've seen what happens when problems aren't addressed early. Because I'd rather have a difficult conversation now than a catastrophic one later. Because the short-term discomfort of honesty is almost always less than the long-term cost of avoidance.
I'd rather surface a hard truth early than allow a comfortable illusion to persist.
Hard truths now cost less than comfortable lies later.