The cost of speed
Speed is the great competitive moat of our time. Move faster than the competition. Ship before anyone else. Outrun, out-execute, out-innovate. That’s the game, right?
But here’s the part we don’t talk about enough: speed has a cost. And if you’re not careful, that cost is the very thing you’re trying to protect—the quality of your work, the well-being of your team, and the connection between what you build and the people who use it.
The Myth That Speed = Success
The business world worships speed. Startups live by it. Investors demand it. Entire organizations structure themselves around moving as fast as possible. But speed without direction, care, or sustainability isn’t a strategy—it’s a gamble.
Facebook’s old mantra was “Move fast and break things.” At first, it sounded like innovation. It gave teams permission to iterate quickly and not get stuck in perfectionism. But over time, that mindset led to unintended consequences—rushed decisions, ethical blind spots, and a culture where breaking things became the default, not the exception. Eventually, Facebook had to walk it back, realizing that moving fast is only valuable if you’re moving in the right direction.
Speed Without Care Leads to Mediocrity
When companies prioritize speed above all else, two things happen:
They burn out their teams. A culture of urgency can quickly turn into a culture of fear. When people are always racing, they don’t have time to think deeply, take creative risks, or make decisions that align with long-term success. They’re just trying to survive the next sprint.
They sacrifice quality for quantity. Speed often leads to doing more than you have the resources to do well. Instead of focused, meaningful work, you get a flood of half-baked products, rushed campaigns, and over-marketed mediocrity. And then, instead of letting great work speak for itself, companies have to over-hype and over-sell, because what they’re putting out isn’t good enough to stand on its own.
Contrast that with Patagonia. In the 1970s, their best-selling product was a climbing piton—a small metal spike climbers hammered into rock. It was profitable, it was effective, and it was damaging the very environment Patagonia stood for. When they realized this, they made a radical decision: they stopped selling it. They created an alternative that was better for the planet, even though it slowed them down, and risk the very existence of the company. That’s the difference between speed for speed’s sake and purposeful momentum. Patagonia still moves fast—but only in ways that align with their values and the long game they’re playing.
The Right Kind of Fast
Speed isn’t the enemy. Reckless speed is. There’s a difference between moving quickly with intention and moving so fast that you break the very foundation of what makes your work great.
The best companies—and the best teams—understand this. They iterate, but they don’t rush. They push for urgency, but they don’t panic. They build systems that allow them to move fast without losing depth.
Because at the end of the day, the goal isn’t just to be first. The goal is to be lasting. So, go as fast as you safely can.
