Work and Chance: The Anatomy of Success

Published on August 4, 2025

In Parisian salons as well as American universities, an eternal debate animates conversations: is success the fruit of hard work or of chance? This seemingly simple question actually reveals a profound fracture in our understanding of the social and economic mechanisms that govern our individual destinies.

Let us first observe a remarkable phenomenon: those who have succeeded invariably attribute their success to work, while those who have failed explain it through bad luck. This dichotomy is not the result of chance, but reveals two fundamental cognitive biases that obscure our perception of reality.

The Illusion of Sufficient Work

Economic and intellectual elites suffer from a particularly insidious bias: survivorship bias. Take the example of those Silicon Valley entrepreneurs who, during TED conferences, proclaim that "success is 99% perspiration and 1% inspiration." These men and women evolve in an ecosystem where they exclusively interact with other individuals who have succeeded. Their apparent common denominator? They all worked hard.

But this vision is truncated. It systematically ignores the thousands of entrepreneurs who invested the same hours, the same energy, the same passion in their projects, and who nonetheless failed. The latter do not mount the podiums of conferences. They do not publish bestselling books titled "How I Failed in 10 Lessons." They disappear into statistical anonymity.

Consider the case of two fictional but representative programmers: Kevin and Pierre. Both quit their jobs in 2010 to create a mobile application. Kevin Systrom developed a photo-sharing application that was bought by Facebook for 1 billion dollars. Pierre created a similar application, technically superior, but launched six months later. He works today as an IT consultant. Marc attributes his success to his vision and his hard work. Pierre explains his project's failure through bad luck and timing.

Both are right and wrong at the same time.

The Illusion of Omnipotent Chance

Conversely, those who have not achieved their objectives often develop a deterministic vision of the world where chance reigns as absolute master. This perspective, while psychologically understandable, constitutes a form of protection against personal responsibility.

Take the example of two medical students: Anne and Sophie. Anne passes the internship competition on the first try and becomes a cardiac surgeon. Sophie fails twice before giving up and retraining in teaching. Sophie explains her trajectory through the "lottery" of the French healthcare system, where only the "lucky ones" obtain the best specialties.

This explanation, however, obscures a less comfortable reality: Anne may have benefited from a more favorable family environment, better preparation, or simply superior natural aptitude for exams. But she also devoted 12 hours a day for three years to studying, giving up a normal social life.

Sophie, meanwhile, minimizes the importance of these factors to preserve her self-esteem. This psychological strategy, while understandable, prevents her from objectively analyzing the causes of her failure and, potentially, from correcting course.

This psychological strategy, while understandable, prevents her from objectively analyzing the causes of her failure and, potentially, from correcting course.

Elon Musk's example perfectly illustrates this tendency to minimize others' work. His detractors like to explain his success through "ease": "It's easy to succeed when daddy has an emerald mine in Zambia." This explanation obscures a less comfortable reality. When Musk invested in Tesla in 2004, the company was on the brink of bankruptcy, its first models were defective, and the automotive industry considered electric vehicles a technological dead end. He completely rebuilt the company, personally supervised battery development, slept in the factory during "production hell," and invested his last personal millions to avoid bankruptcy. Similarly for SpaceX: starting from zero in aerospace, enduring three consecutive launch failures that nearly ruined the company, then revolutionizing the industry with reusable rockets. His initial advantages gave him an opportunity, but transforming Tesla from a failing startup into a global leader or making SpaceX NASA's main competitor required colossal work that money alone cannot buy.

The literary world offers striking examples of this phenomenon. Consider Herman Melville, today celebrated as one of the greatest American writers. His masterpiece "Moby Dick" was a resounding commercial failure upon its release in 1851. Melville, discouraged by public indifference, practically abandoned writing and ended up as a customs officer in New York. It was only after his death that his genius was recognized.

Similarly, Emily Dickinson wrote nearly 1,800 poems in the solitude of her room, but only about ten were published during her lifetime. She died in anonymity, convinced she had failed as a poet. Meanwhile, authors who are unreadable today dominated the bestsellers of the era.

The Paradoxical Formula of Success

Reality is more complex than these two camps suggest. Authentic success requires both 100% work AND 100% chance. This formula, apparently contradictory, nonetheless reflects a profound truth: these two factors do not add up, they multiply.

Work without opportunity remains sterile. Opportunity without preparation remains inaccessible. This dynamic explains why so many brilliant careers seem to follow a similar pattern: years of obscure efforts followed by sudden and spectacular success.

Take the example of J.K. Rowling. For years, she wrote in London cafes, rejected by twelve publishing houses. Her hard work is undeniable: she created a complex universe, developed endearing characters, perfected her style. But her phenomenal success also depends on fortuitous factors: the Bloomsbury publisher who finally accepts her manuscript, the perfect timing of the first book's release, the unpredictable public enthusiasm.

Similarly, Steve Jobs worked obsessively on his products, but his success also owes much to his meeting with Steve Wozniak, the development of the personal computer market, and his ability to anticipate consumer desires at key moments.

The Exceptions That Prove the Rule

There are, certainly, spectacular exceptions to this rule. Some individuals seem to access success solely by knowing the right person at the right time. History is full of examples of fortunes built on a chance encounter or an unexpected inheritance.

Consider the case of Françoise Bettencourt Meyers, L'Oréal heiress. Her colossal fortune does not result from hard work or entrepreneurial genius, but from an accident of birth. Similarly, some Hollywood actors owe their careers to a chance encounter with a director in a cafe.

But these exceptions, while fascinating, should not obscure the general rule. For one heir who brilliantly manages their patrimony, how many squander their fortune? For one actor discovered by chance, how many talented artists spend their lives waiting for a similar opportunity?

More importantly, these exceptions generally concern first-generation successes. Lasting dynasties, whether entrepreneurial, artistic, or intellectual, invariably rest on sustained work and constant adaptation to circumstances.

Facing the Absence of Success: A Practical Philosophy

What to do when, despite considerable efforts, success eludes us? This question touches the heart of the human condition and reveals the fundamental injustice of existence.

The easy answer would be to wait for a "divine occasion" to present itself. This passive strategy, however, condemns one to an existence of frustration and bitterness. Personal and collective history demonstrates that a profound sense of fulfillment rarely emerges from ease, but rather from struggle against adversity.

Take the example of Viktor Frankl, an Austrian psychiatrist deported to Nazi camps. Deprived of everything, confronted with the most total absurdity, he develops a philosophy of existence based on the search for meaning in adversity. His major work, "Man's Search for Meaning," transforms his traumatic experience into a universal contribution to human understanding.

Similarly, many artists, writers, and thinkers have produced their most profound works during periods of material or personal difficulties. Consider George Orwell, who wrote "1984" while dying of tuberculosis, isolated on the Scottish island of Jura, in precarious material conditions. This masterpiece, which became prophetic, sprang precisely from this confrontation with mortality and adversity. Or Dostoyevsky, who conceived "Crime and Punishment" while riddled with debts, forced to write urgently to escape debtors' prison. Constraint, paradoxically, often liberates creativity that would not have emerged in comfort.

The Ethics of Effort

This analysis does not aim to promote passive acceptance of injustice, but to develop a more nuanced approach to success and failure. Recognizing the role of chance does not diminish the value of work; it humanizes our judgments of others and ourselves.

An entrepreneur who fails is not necessarily less deserving than one who succeeds. A brilliant student from a disadvantaged background perhaps accomplishes more, relative to their initial conditions, than an heir who obtains the same results.

This perspective encourages a form of humility among those who have succeeded and perseverance among those still struggling. It reminds us that in a free society, we do not control all factors of our destiny, but we always retain responsibility for our efforts and choices.

Ultimately, the question may not be whether success comes from work or chance, but understanding how to maximize our chances of benefiting from chance through work. For if we cannot control when opportunity will present itself, we can ensure we are ready to seize it when it comes.

From this perspective, effort becomes not a guarantee of success, but a form of investment in the unpredictable. And perhaps this is the ultimate wisdom: to work as if everything depended on us, while accepting that much escapes us.