The Illusion of Progress

A shark is constantly in motion. Produced with AI.

Some animals must keep moving to survive. Sharks are like that. If they stop swimming, they stop breathing. This is an essential but brutal truth for sharks, that constant motion equals life.

Over the years, I’ve worked with, and even reported to, a number of people who seem to live by that same rule. Motion, to them, is proof of value. As long as the Slack messages are flying, the decks are updating, and the mockups are flowing, then progress must be happening. The problem is, that’s not how real progress works.

I want to be clear that I’m not calling these people sharks in the apex predator sense. This isn’t about ruthlessness or power. It’s about the reflexive, unexamined need to always be doing something, anything, because standing still feels like death. But what if the most important parts of growth don’t happen while we’re moving? What if real learning, real change, happens when we slow down?

Perceived Productivity vs. Real Work

In many workplaces, productivity has become a performance. It’s something to be seen doing, not necessarily something to be meaningfully accomplished. We’ve built environments where constant motion is rewarded. Always-on Slack presence, meetings back to back, rapid-fire iterations in Figma, and AI-produced assets to give the appearance of progress. But that’s all it is, a facade.

This kind of motion is addictive, and feels so much like you’re getting things done. But it rarely leads to innovation because it’s not about solving the problem, it’s about appearing to solve it. There’s very little tolerance for pausing to think and revisit assumptions, or allow a problem to sit long enough to understand it deeply. Those actions are quiet and don’t look like progress, even though they are the foundation of it.

As designers (or developers, researchers, or any creative discipline, really), we know that some of the most valuable work happens offstage. It’s the time we spend reviewing research, reflecting on feedback, sketching out ideas that never see the light of day. But in environments driven by perceived productivity, that kind of work is seen as suspicious at best. If there’s no immediate artifact to show for it, it doesn’t count.

If I design 42 mockups for a new feature, and they all miss the mark with our customers, have I actually been productive? Was that barrage of output more valuable than producing two or three designs that meaningfully get to the heart of the problem? In many modern organizations, the answer is yes. Because more screens equals more progress, regardless of whether those screens solve anything at all.

That kind of thinking is dangerous. It leads us to prioritize the visible over the valuable. The performative over the purposeful. And worst of all, it teaches designers to work for approval instead of impact.

The Hidden Value of Repetition and Failure

The truth is, growth rarely looks like forward motion. In fact, it often looks like failure. You make the wrong thing and then have to sit with it, figure out why it didn’t work, and then you try again. That kind of progress is slow, messy, and deeply uncomfortable. But it’s also where real skill is developed.

Repetition isn’t glamorous, but it’s essential. It’s how we internalize patterns and refine our instincts. We build a deeper understanding of our craft. The first few iterations of anything are often just us getting the obvious ideas out of our system. The real insight comes later, after we’ve failed enough times to recognize what doesn’t work. That kind of motion matters and has real impact on businesses, even if they don’t always see it. It’s what a well-run company will develop in their staff and why having senior leaders is important to the health of the business.

Yet in many organizations, failure is seen as a weakness instead of a step. There’s no room for it in the timeline. There’s no budget for doing something twice. Instead, there’s pressure to get it right the first time, which leads to safe ideas and shallow execution, and the illusion of forward motion. But when failure isn’t allowed, neither is learning. And when learning isn’t happening, neither is growth.

I’ve learned more from broken prototypes and usability tests than I have from any polished final deliverable. Because it’s in that friction between intention and reality where we uncover what actually matters. That’s the stuff that endures.

The Role of Stillness and Planning

Stillness is often mistaken for inaction. But in creative work, stillness is where the real breakthroughs happen. It’s in the quiet moments that we actually start to think. Not just react, not just respond, but think. Strategically. Critically. Creatively.

Some of my best design decisions didn’t come when I was in a flow of creating screen after screen. They came when I stepped back. When I sat with the requirements, stopped designing, cut through all the noise and focused on the problem. Those are the moments that seem the least productive to the outside, but they’re the most valuable to the outcome.

Unfortunately, stillness doesn’t play well in metrics. It’s hard to put “stared at the ceiling for 30 minutes and realized we’re solving the wrong problem” on a status update. But that reflection is where clarity lives. That’s where you see the forest instead of just the trees. That’s where you choose your next step, not just take one for the sake of movement.

Planning, too, is undervalued. We’re often told to just start building and figure it out later. And yes, there’s value in iteration. But iteration without direction is just chaos. Taking the time to plan, really plan, what success looks like, what constraints we’re working within, and what tradeoffs we’re willing to make is a skill. It’s not wasted time, it’s the foundation for good work.

AI Won’t Fix Shallow Thinking

Today’s workforce is under enormous pressure to move faster. And with the rise of AI tools, that pressure is only increasing. We’re told these tools will make us more efficient and more productive. And in some ways, they absolutely can! I use AI tools myself, and I think they’re incredibly useful when applied thoughtfully.

But speed isn’t a substitute for intention. Just because a tool can generate 42 screens faster than I ever could doesn’t mean those screens are solving anything meaningful. More output isn’t the goal. Better outcomes are.

There’s an unspoken agreement we need to make with ourselves (and to a larger extent, with each other) as we begin to integrate these technologies more deeply into our work. We still need to be present. We still need to be thoughtful. AI can assist, but it can’t replace discernment. It can’t replace human curiosity, empathy, or judgment. If anything, it raises the stakes for those qualities to shine through.

The faster we move, the more intentional we have to become. Otherwise, we’re just accelerating toward a dead end.

Redefining What Counts as Progress

So much of what we call “productivity” is just a performance, movement for the sake of visibility. But meaningful work, the kind that creates real value for users and organizations alike, doesn’t always look busy. Sometimes it looks like failure. Sometimes it looks like stillness. Sometimes it’s just a quiet pause before the next intentional step.

We have to let go of the idea that forward motion is always good. It isn’t. Not if the motion is aimless. Not if it’s shallow. Not if it’s driven by fear of being seen as idle. The real growth and insight come from repetition, from wrestling with uncertainty, and from being okay with not having all the answers on the first try.

This doesn’t mean we reject tools like AI or new methods that help us move faster. But it does mean we use them with intention. We stay connected to the craft. We stay curious. We stay human.

Because progress isn’t how fast you move. It’s what you learn along the way.