Goodhart’s Law
The metric improved. The thing it was supposed to measure did not.
1400 | Issue #4
In 1975, British economist Charles Goodhart observed something that applies to almost everything. When a measure becomes a target, it ceases to be a good measure. The moment you optimise for the number, the number stops telling you what it was supposed to tell you. A hospital measured by discharge speed starts discharging patients faster, not healthier. A school ranked by exam scores starts teaching to the exam, scores go up but learning goes down. A company measured by customer satisfaction surveys starts chasing ratings instead of solving problems. The proxy detaches from the reality it was supposed to represent, and by the time anyone notices, the original goal has been quietly abandoned.
I was going to the gym for months. Never missed a session. There was a time when I was genuinely pushing, adding weight, getting stronger, seeing real change. Then at some point I stopped. Not the gym, just the effort. I kept showing up, kept lifting, but the same weights, the same reps, nothing new. The discipline was still there. The purpose behind it was gone. Attendance stayed perfect. Progress had stopped completely. I had confused one for the other.
This was described precisely over 1400 years ago.
فَوَيْلٌ لِّلْمُصَلِّينَ ٱلَّذِينَ هُمْ عَن صَلَاتِهِمْ سَاهُونَ ٱلَّذِينَ هُمْ يُرَآءُونَ
“So woe to those who pray, [but] who are heedless of their prayer, those who make show [of their deeds].” (Surah Al-Ma’un, 107:4-6)
These ayahs, verses from the Quran, describe a specific kind of failure: the person who performs the act but has lost connection to its purpose. They pray. The metric is met. But they are heedless of what the prayer was meant to build in them, and they do it to be seen. The form is intact. The substance has hollowed out. This is what Islam calls riya, doing something that looks like worship on the outside while the real motivation has shifted toward the approval of people rather than what the act was originally for.
In a hadith, the Prophet ﷺ describes a scene on the Day of Resurrection. To summarise its meaning, three people are brought forward. The first is a man who fought and was killed. He claims he did it for Allah's sake. He is told: you are lying. You fought so people would call you brave, and they did. The second is a man who acquired knowledge, taught it, and recited the Quran. He claims he did it for Allah's sake. He is told: you are lying. You did it so people would call you a scholar and a Qari, a reciter of the Quran, and they did. The third is a man who was given wealth and spent it generously. He claims he did it for Allah's sake. He is told: you are lying. You did it so people would call you generous, and they did. Each is dragged on his face and thrown into the Fire. (Sahih Muslim 1905a)
The actions were real. The sacrifice was real. The knowledge was real. The charity was real. Every visible metric was met. And none of it counted, because the target had shifted.
A second hadith states the principle beneath all of it:
“The reward of deeds depends upon the intentions and every person will get the reward according to what he has intended.” (Sahih Al-Bukhari 1)
The value of any action is not in the action itself, but in what was intended by it. The metric without the intention behind it means nothing.
Stop asking if you are hitting the target. Ask if the target is still pointing at the right thing.
Something to do: Pick one habit or metric you track and ask whether the underlying thing it was supposed to build is actually improving, not just the number.
Something to think about: Where in your life are you optimising for the measure instead of what the measure was meant to represent?
Quran translations: Sahih International. Hadith translations: Sunnah.com.