Failing in Public Can Be Fatal, Don’t Let the Therapists Fool You

Don’t Damage Your Reputation by Mindlessly Sharing Your Failures

When Bruno Fernandes, captain of Manchester United, turned down a $250 million offer from Saudi Pro League’s Al-Hilal, it didn’t just sting—it embarrassed the league on a global stage.

What should have been a quiet negotiation became headline news. It made the Saudi Pro League look like a deep-pocketed project desperate for validation and unable to get it. That kind of failure, played out in public, hits different. It creates a story that people latch onto: one of rejection, not ambition.

Yet therapists and self-help influencers will tell you to "own your failures" and "embrace vulnerability" like it's always a good move. That advice might work in low-stakes environments—but in the real world? Especially in public-facing industries? It can backfire badly.

Sharing the wrong failure, at the wrong time, to the wrong audience, doesn’t build trust. It creates a story you can’t control—and might never recover from.

Case Studies of Vulnerability Backfiring

Let’s look at three examples where public vulnerability didn’t heal—it harmed.

First, Fernandes. The Saudi Pro League tried to go big, chasing players like Fernandes, Mbappé, and Vinicius Jr. But when those deals collapsed, the rejections weren’t just private losses. They became media narratives. The league looked like it was throwing money at a problem it couldn’t solve. Attendance dropped. Critics pounced. The story became “they can’t land stars,” not “they’re building a future.”

Then there’s Pakistan. In May 2025, Prime Minister Shehbaz Sharif admitted during a summit that Indian BrahMos missiles had hit Pakistani airbases before a planned counteroffensive. Over 100 militants were killed, military infrastructure was damaged, and the strikes embarrassed the country’s defense leadership. Sharif’s speech, which may have been meant to explain geopolitical tensions, instead exposed Pakistan’s military vulnerabilities. He gave adversaries ammunition—literally and metaphorically.

Wells Fargo’s fake account scandal tells a similar story in the corporate world. The company had to go public with a confession: 3.5 million fake accounts, created under pressure from aggressive sales targets. CEO John Stumpf’s apology before Congress didn’t help. The fallout was massive: billions in fines, lost trust, and a reputation hit that the brand still hasn’t fully recovered from. The admission, though necessary, did more to deepen public distrust than restore confidence.

All three examples share one thing: when the failure was exposed publicly—voluntarily or not—it caused more damage than repair. There was no strategic framing. No immediate redemption arc. Just judgment, mockery, and loss of credibility.

Why Vulnerability Is Bad Advice for Most Situations

The “be vulnerable” crowd rarely talks about context. But context is everything.

Yes, in theory, vulnerability can show honesty. It can invite feedback. It can even, sometimes, build connection.

But in high-stakes settings—business, politics, sports—those benefits are the exception, not the rule.

What usually happens instead? Public scrutiny. Viral criticism. A story that spreads faster than the truth. Sharif’s admission didn’t rally support—it gave India a soft-power win. The Saudi Pro League’s rejection headlines didn’t tell a tale of effort—they told one of failure. Wells Fargo’s apology didn’t rebuild trust—it broadcasted betrayal.

Once that story is out there, you don’t get to walk it back.

And when you're operating in competitive fields where perception drives power, perception becomes reality. In sports, people expect victories. In geopolitics, people expect strength. In business, people expect reliability. Fail publicly, and that’s what you become known for. Period.

The mistake behind the vulnerability trend is assuming the audience always interprets it kindly. That they’ll see courage instead of weakness. That they’ll give grace instead of judgment. But outside of therapy sessions, that’s not how most people react.

Vulnerability Only Works for Successful People

Here’s what the pop psych crowd won’t tell you: public vulnerability only works when you're already winning.

People love a success story with a rough patch. They don’t love a rough patch without the success. A startup that’s flailing and sharing every failure online? That reads as messy, not inspiring. But a billion-dollar company talking about early struggles? That reads as battle-tested.

Imagine if, after the Fernandes rejection, the Saudi Pro League had signed someone like Haaland. Suddenly, that earlier failure becomes a footnote. “They missed on Fernandes, but look who they got instead.” The story flips.

Same for Pakistan. If Sharif had followed up the BrahMos admission with a decisive win—diplomatic, military, or even just a strong recovery narrative—the vulnerability might have looked strategic. But without a rebound, it just looked weak.

Wells Fargo had a chance to turn its story around. But without a clear, compelling win—like massive customer growth, record profits, or cultural reinvention—the apology stayed an admission, not a pivot.

That’s the rule: vulnerability doesn’t work when you're still trying to prove yourself. It works when you're already known for winning.

The mistake is thinking that just because vulnerability feels authentic, it will read as powerful. That’s not how audiences operate. They’re not looking for therapy. They’re looking for proof.

So, don’t get sucked into the trend of “fail out loud.” You don’t have to hide your flaws—but you do need to control your story. Share strategically. Show resilience after the rebound. Speak openly when you've already won some credibility.

Otherwise, you're just handing your critics the script—and the microphone.