Transformation — or a headlong rush forward?

Most leadership teams say they want to transform their companies.

Very few are clear about what they actually mean by that.

The problem is not semantics.
When transformation is used as a substitute for diagnosis, the mistake is not neutral.
It can be existential.

A small minority gets it right. They start changing because they understand that customer behaviour is evolving, markets are shifting, and their current model will eventually lose relevance. They act early, while the business is still healthy and they still have room to manoeuvre.

These transformations are proactive.
And they often work.

But they are not the norm.

Most companies start talking about transformation when something is already going wrong.

Some notice early warning signs: competitors gaining traction, adjacent players entering the conversation, customers exploring alternatives. The business still works. The numbers still look acceptable. But something no longer feels right.

And then there is the largest group.

Companies that have been successful for years and suddenly realise that sales are flat or declining while fixed costs keep rising with inflation. Complexity increases. Revenues fail to keep pace.

Margins erode.
Pressure builds.

Very often, an external shock appears: a pandemic, a geopolitical conflict, a regulatory change, a major disruption in supply chains.

That shock is not always the root cause of the problem.
But it often acts as an accelerator—and, for a while, as an excuse.

It allows leadership teams to believe the problem is temporary.
That once the shock fades, sales will recover.
That margins will come back.

In many cases, they don’t.

Because the shock didn’t create the problem.
It merely exposed changes that were already underway: in the market, in customer expectations, in the economics of the business.

It is when what looked temporary proves to be structural that the word transformation enters the room.

And it enters late.

Not as the result of a rigorous diagnosis, but as a reaction to panic.

There is no real clarity about what has changed.
No shared understanding of why market share has been lost.
No precise explanation of why others are performing better.

But there is an urgent problem.
And something must be done.

At that point, transformation becomes a generic response to a question that has not yet been properly formulated.

A grand word that signals action.
That reassures investors and governing bodies.

But one that lacks substance.

In this context, transformation is extremely expensive.

Because it often involves:

And when that transformation fails to deliver, the company does not end up where it started.

It emerges weaker.
With less financial headroom.
With diminished credibility.
And clearly behind competitors who have adapted more effectively.

A failed transformation is not time wasted.
It is a strategic bet with structural consequences.

The biggest mistake in transformation is not that it is difficult or costly.

It is starting without having understood:

When transformation is used to avoid that work, it stops being a strategy and turns into a headlong rush forward.

Before discussing technology, reorganisations, or multi-year roadmaps, any leadership team should confront an uncomfortable question:

Do we truly understand why our value proposition is less relevant today—and what would need to change for it to become competitive again?

Without a clear diagnosis, transformation is not possible.
Only movement.
Costly.
And potentially irreversible.

Anyone who has sat in those rooms knows how easy it is to confuse motion with clarity.

And how hard it is to pause, do the diagnosis properly, and accept what that diagnosis means.

If you have lived through similar situations and want to compare experiences, you know where to find me.

If you missed the previous newsletter, you can read it here: