The Joint Special Operations Command is one of the most capable military organizations in the world. Its operators are selected through the most demanding processes in modern warfare. Its missions require precision, coordination, and discipline at a level few, if any, institutions can match. Today, it represents the standard for special operations and complex mission execution.
But it did not begin that way.
In 1980, a highly coordinated national operation consisting of special operators failed to achieve its objective. Eight servicemen were killed, multiple aircraft were lost, and plans unraveled under real-world conditions.
It was a national embarrassment with lasting strategic and human consequences.
Most institutions would prefer to forget moments like that and most leaders would prefer to distance themselves from disaster rather than owning it and dissecting it.
No one likes to fail, but if you study any sustained success story closely enough, you will find failure woven into its foundation, because failure is a prerequisite for success, not the opposite.
In this article, I’ll discuss four things: the psychology of failure, how to tell the difference between true failure and distorted standards, provide a simple five-step system to turn setbacks into progress, and provide some examples.
The Psychology of Failure
From a young age, we are conditioned to avoid failure. Don’t fail the test, don’t lose the game, don’t fall behind. We live in a merit-based world built on grades, GPAs, rankings, evaluations, and resumes. Excellence is rewarded while failure is forgotten.
We’re taught as children to associate failure with punishment or shame. When we fail, our instinct is to quit, forget, and move on. We do this because failure feels dangerous to our identity, our reputation, and our sense of control.
Failure challenges the story we tell ourselves about who we are. It also challenges how others see us and, just as importantly, how we see ourselves. The fear of disappointing people who rely on us often weighs more heavily than the failure itself. And then there’s uncertainty. Failure lives in the unknown, and we hate the unknown. Avoidance feels safer because it preserves the illusion of control.
What we don’t often realize is that every success story starts with failure. You pass the exam because you failed practice tests until you learned what worked. You win the game because you corrected past mistakes. You earn the promotion because you changed, adapted, and grew into the role.
The people who succeed understand how to use failure as a competitive advantage. Yes, some people succeed with fewer visible failures due to luck, timing, talent, or opportunity. But they still fail.
Because of our unhealthy relationship with failure, we aren’t taught how to interpret, process, and use it to our advantage. Conversely, we know exactly how to respond to success. Success comes with celebrations, champagne, praise, and public recognition. Failure comes with silence, avoidance, and confusion.
When you are mentally prepared to expect failure and extract value from it, failure becomes information, not a threat to identity. And when that happens, progress and opportunity accelerate.
So, if failure leads to success, but we’ve never learned how to work with failure, the real question becomes this: how do we reach our maximum potential?
But before we discuss how to use failure productively, we need to distinguish between real failure and distorted standards.
Real vs. Distorted Failure
A lot of what we call failure is not failure at all. In sports, there is a term for this: ring culture. Ring culture is when an athlete’s success is defined primarily by championships.
Ring culture has spilled over into the greater society, where our definition for success is increasingly distorted. We measure promotions, salaries, and degrees against benchmarks that don't reflect reality. The goal is set so high or so narrow that genuine excellence gets mislabeled as inadequacy.
Real failure is training for a marathon but pulling out at mile 18. Ring culture failure is running a 3:05 when your goal was sub-3:00.
It's important to understand this for a few reasons. First, you can get stuck in a never-ending loop of self-criticism that prevents you from recognizing actual progress compared to your goal. If you can't see what's working, you can't build on it. Second, if you can never reach success because the standard is impossible, nothing you do will ever get you there. And third, distorted success metrics make it impossible to know when to adjust course versus when to stay the path.
With that distinction clear, we can talk about real failure and how to use it.
Real failure is when your current approach does not produce the outcome you’re aiming for, and the gap is both explainable and improvable. You had realistic goals, a clear training plan, and measurable benchmarks, but failed to achieve your outcomes.
Real failure is painfully difficult to accept. It invites unpleasant emotions like shame, disappointment, and frustration. It forces you to confront your limitations and means you were not capable, prepared, or disciplined as you believed. It means others know you fell short.
The Five-Step Framework
While all that is true, the good news is that failure also means opportunity. This five-step process can turn failure into progress and ultimately success.
Reframe → Diagnose → Extract → Adjust → Reattack
First, you need to reframe your thinking. You need to believe that failure is simultaneous with opportunity.
This isn't about forced positivity or pretending failure doesn't hurt. It's about separating emotion from the event. It’s about recognizing that the moment you fail is also the moment you gain information you didn't have before. Before the failure, you were operating on assumptions. After the failure, you’re operating on data.
That shift in assessment, from "this is proof I'm not good enough" to "this showed me what I didn't know," is foundational. Without it, the other steps won't work. You'll be too busy protecting your ego to learn anything.
So, before you analyze what went wrong and your plan to improve, you must accept that failure is not the end of progress but the beginning. The people who succeed expect failure, mine it for insight, and use it to recalibrate.
After the mental reframing, you’re ready for step two: Diagnose. This step is about pinpointing exactly where things fell apart. Was it preparation? Execution? Timing? A skill gap? A bad assumption? The more specific your diagnosis, the more actionable your next step. "I failed" teaches you nothing. "I underestimated how long this would take" gives you something actionable.
The next step is Extract. This is the “how” that follows step two’s “what.” Based on what broke down, what actions need to change? Maybe it's a skill you need to develop. Maybe it's a habit you need to build. Identify it clearly and specifically so you know exactly what to work on.
After extracting, you need to adjust. After studying what went wrong (what) and determining the actions required to change (how), it’s time to adjust. Perhaps it’s practicing differently or preparing more thoroughly. You might need to adjust a few times in a few different ways. Experiment with how you adjust. Treat it like a lab session, probing until you find a better outcome.
Finally, reattack.
Reattacking can be intimidating. Reattacking requires vulnerability because it exposes you to the possibility of failing again. It demands that you trust your preparation more than your fear and your long-term growth more than your short-term ego.
When you reattack, you enter the arena with new information and a refined approach. You are testing whether your adjustments were sufficient and, if not, beginning the process again.
Every meaningful improvement in skill, leadership, business, or performance is built on this cycle.
The Framework in Action
The rap-rock band Linkin Park’s rise to fame is one of my favorite examples of success built on a mountain of failure. For years, they were rejected by music executives. However, they chose to see “no” as an opportunity to recalibrate, rather than a reason to quit. They replaced their lead singer with Chester Bennington, whose raw emotional intensity became the band's defining sound. They refined their writing, using their personal hardships as inspiration. And they evolved their sound, balancing raw rock aggression with melody. All the rejections gave them the necessary feedback to change. Eventually, Warner Bros. Records signed them, and their debut album, Hybrid Theory, became one of the best-selling and one of the most inventive and commercially successful albums of the 21st century.
This framework is not limited to institutions or industries. It applies to individual careers just as powerfully.
Several years ago, I was told ‘no’ for a position I deeply wanted. It was a leadership position I'd been preparing for since my first promotion. I had the experience, the strong evaluations, and the right connections. When the decision was announced and my name was not on it, the disappointment was immediate and difficult to ignore.
My first instinct was defensive. I blamed external factors and questioned the criteria and fairness. It was far easier to protect my identity than to examine it. But after the initial emotion settled, I had to make a choice. I could treat the outcome as a judgment on my worth or I could treat it as information about my gaps.
I started diagnosing honestly. Where had I assumed I was competitive rather than verifying it? Where had I relied on past success instead of demonstrating current relevance? Where had I underestimated what the role truly required? There were areas where my preparation was broad but not deep. There were skills I believed were strengths that had not been refined at the level required.
From there, I extracted lessons. Strong performance does not guarantee readiness for the next level. Instead of dwelling on the rejection, I built a deliberate plan to close the gaps I had identified.
I adjusted how I prepared and sought direct feedback rather than informal reassurance. I sharpened the skills most relevant to the roles I aspired to hold. I became more intentional about how I communicated my value and more disciplined about where I invested my time. The focus shifted from wanting the title to becoming undeniably qualified for it.
Then I reattacked. I pursued the next opportunity with a more refined approach and a deeper understanding of what excellence required. The outcome was different.
Looking back, not getting that job accelerated my growth more than getting it would have. The rejection forced honesty, which forced improvement. And the improvement created capacity I did not previously have.
That is what failure does when you allow it to work for you.
Success is the result of accepting failure and using it to your advantage. The failed mission in 1980 exposed structural gaps and national security weaknesses. In the same way, professional setbacks don’t define your ceiling, instead they reveal the standard you must meet.
The question is not whether you are going to fail. The question is, when you fail, are you going to retreat from it or refine yourself through it?