We live in the golden age of stubbornness. From corporate boardrooms to family WhatsApp groups, doubling down on bad decisions has become our default setting – even when reality begs us to stop. CEO’s cling to failing strategies, politicians deny undeniable scandals, and individuals stay in toxic relationships, all following the same flawed logic: If I commit harder, maybe I can outrun the truth.
The Chernobyl disaster offers the ultimate case study.
When Reactor No. 4 exploded in 1986, Soviet officials chose lies over truth. For 36 hours, they pretended nothing was wrong – even as firefighters collapsed from radiation poisoning. Officials made sure May Day parades continued downwind. Locals noted the metallic taste in the air but were told it was nothing.
When Swedish scientists detected radiation drifting across Europe, Moscow doubled down: “Minor accident. Two dead. Everything’s fine!” while KGB agents confiscated dosimeters and doctors misdiagnosed radiation sickness.
It went beyond negligence – it was cognitive dissonance weaponized. The Soviet identity depended on technological supremacy; admitting failure would shatter their foundational myth. Better to parade children through invisible poison than update their mental software.
To Soviet leaders, Chernobyl wasn’t an accident – it was an attack on communism itself. By May 1986, they were too invested in the lie to turn back, and their doubling down proved fatal. When Gorbachev finally admitted partial truths in 1989, nobody believed him. The USSR’s credibility was destroyed, with Chernobyl becoming the final nail in the Soviet empire’s coffin.
We might smirk at the Soviet folly, but look around.
Your company’s “strategic initiative” that’s bleeding money but “just needs more runway.” The relationship where you’re “working through things” (for the fourth year). The project you can’t abandon because then you’d have to admit that Dave from accounting was right all along.
The Chernobyl playbook is now running on loop everywhere from Silicon Valley to Capitol Hill to our love lives.
Why? Because our brains don’t distinguish between bad decisions and bad identities. Being wrong feels like being worthless. So we build elaborate fortresses around our choices, even as those choices slowly poison everything we’ve built. That and sunk costs warp our judgment. The deeper we invest in a lie, the harder it becomes to walk away.
The inconvenient truth is sometimes the breakthrough decision is simply to stop. The three most creative words you can say are: “I was wrong.”
Teams that accomplish amazing things create spaces where changing direction isn’t weakness, it’s smart. Places where “I don’t know” carries more weight than false confidence.
As Kenny Rogers knew long before the rest of us caught up:
You’ve got to know when to hold ’em
Know when to fold ’em
Know when to walk away
And know when to run
Because the alternative is to end up like the Soviets, insisting everything is fine while your credibility melts down around you.
The choice is yours. Keep tasting metal while pretending it’s victory or face reality especially when it hurts.
