What Can You Do When You Can’t Fix It?

When a problem feels too big to fix, it’s easy to assume nothing you do will matter. But having no control isn’t the same as having no agency. Dr. J.J. Peterson reflects on a question he has carried since September 11, 2001—and why meaningful action sometimes begins by asking something much smaller: What can I do?

Prefer to listen? Press play below.

Leadership often comes with the expectation that problems can be solved. A campaign underperforms, so the strategy changes. A team gets stuck, so someone makes a decision and clears the path. A customer has a problem, and the goal is to make it right.

That instinct is useful. Leaders need to act. But some problems do not offer a solution, at least not one available to you.

Something terrible has already happened. The outcome is beyond your control. The scale of the situation is so much larger than anything you could personally change that even trying to help can feel insignificant.

Those are the moments when the difference between control and agency matters most.

When the Problem Is Bigger Than You

On September 11, 2001, Dr. J.J. Peterson was thousands of miles from home, volunteering with a medical clinic in a rural village near the Haitian border in the Dominican Republic.

News of the attacks reached the group hours after they had happened. They had little information, no way to contact the people they loved and certainly no ability to affect what was unfolding back home.

Eventually, someone asked a different question: “What can we do?”

The answer was to return to the work in front of them. People in the village still needed medicine. A local family needed help. Others needed access to safe drinking water.

Against the scale of what was happening in the United States, filling pill bottles seemed impossibly small. But those bottles still mattered to the people who needed the medicine inside them.

That experience points to a trap people can fall into when a problem becomes enormous: assuming the response must be enormous too.

Sometimes it should be. There are problems that require people to organize, speak up, fight for change or confront something that should not be accepted.

But there are also circumstances we cannot control. In those moments, what remains within our reach may look ordinary by comparison.

Ordinary and insignificant are not the same thing.

Having No Control Doesn't Mean Having No Agency

The language of leadership often revolves around control: set the strategy, make the decision, own the outcome, solve the problem.

Real life is less cooperative. Markets move. People make choices you cannot make for them. Businesses fail. Illness and loss enter people's lives without permission. Events unfold across the world that no individual leader, business owner or citizen has the power to stop.

When control disappears, it is easy to assume agency disappeared with it.

But as J.J. puts it, “Those aren't the same things.”

Agency asks a different question. Instead of measuring your response by whether you can control the larger outcome, you can ask what is actually available to you now.

There may be someone who needs help, work that still matters or a choice about how you will respond. None of those things fixes the whole situation. But fixing the whole situation was never the only measure of whether an action mattered.

Finding Meaning Isn't the Same as Finding a Reason

Researchers studying how Americans processed September 11 found that meaning played an important role in what happened afterward.

About two months after the attacks, more than two-thirds of the people studied were still trying to make sense of what had happened, and roughly 60% had been unable to find meaning in it. People who remained caught in that search tended to experience more post-traumatic stress symptoms over the following two years. Those who found some sense of meaning reported fewer symptoms and less fear.

But finding meaning is not the same as finding a reason.

There is no need to suggest that September 11 happened so something could be learned from it or that something good could somehow justify what was lost. Some events deserve to be called terrible without qualification.

The distinction is between explaining suffering and deciding how to live in response to it.

Asking why did this happen? can be important, particularly when understanding the answer could prevent future harm. But sometimes there is no answer that will make what happened feel acceptable.

When “why?” has taken you as far as it can, another question becomes possible:

What am I going to do now?

Viktor Frankl and Tragic Optimism

Psychiatrist and neurologist Viktor Frankl spent much of his work wrestling with that question. Frankl survived Nazi concentration camps while losing much of his family, including his parents, brother and pregnant wife.

His thinking is sometimes reduced to the idea that you cannot control what happens to you, but you can control your attitude. His argument was more complicated than that.

Frankl did not advocate simply accepting unnecessary suffering. If something harmful can be changed, there is every reason to change it.

The harder question is what happens when suffering cannot be removed, repaired or reversed.

Frankl eventually used the phrase “tragic optimism” to describe the possibility that life can still hold meaning in the presence of pain and loss.

That is not the same as saying everything happens for a reason. It does not require finding a silver lining, becoming grateful for tragedy or deciding that suffering itself was somehow good.

Instead, meaning may be found in how someone chooses to live in response to something they never would have chosen.

The painful thing does not become good. But it also does not have to make every decision about who you become afterward.

Hardship Doesn't Automatically Make Better Leaders

That distinction matters for leadership because leaders are inevitably shaped by experiences they did not choose.

Someone who has failed publicly may remember what that felt like when a member of the team makes a costly mistake. Someone who has experienced grief may notice pain in another person that would once have gone unseen. A difficult season can become a source of patience, humility or compassion.

But suffering does not automatically make anyone wiser. Pain can harden people just as easily as it can soften them.

The agency lies in what happens next.

Leaders cannot choose everything that happens to them. They can pay attention to what those experiences teach them about other people, how tightly they hold control and who they choose to become in response.

The hardship itself does not need to be redeemed for something redemptive to grow alongside it.

Start With a Smaller Question

Twenty-five years after September 11, there is still no reason to turn what happened into a tidy lesson. Remembering the people who died, the families whose lives changed and the first responders and ordinary people who ran toward danger does not require making any of it okay.

But remembering can affect the way we live now.

When the world feels overwhelming, the size of the suffering can make anything within our own reach seem too small to matter. J.J.'s experience, the research on meaning and Frankl's work suggest another way forward.

Fight to change what can be changed. Pay attention instead of looking away. And when something truly is outside your control, resist confusing that lack of control with having no agency at all.

The next step may not be dramatic. It may be helping one person, doing the work that still matters or deciding how you will show up in the aftermath.

The question does not have to be, “How do I fix all of this?”

Sometimes a better place to begin is simply: What can I do?

Next
Next

When Changing the Plan Feels Like Failure