THE COURAGE TO WRITE THE PROBLEM: AN ESSAY ON KIDLIN'S LAW

One of the most remarkable tendencies of the human mind is its inclination to search for solutions before fully understanding the problem itself. We often prescribe remedies before making an accurate diagnosis, choose a direction before identifying our destination, and look for exits before determining where we are. Yet even the most brilliant solution cannot lead us to the right outcome if it addresses the wrong problem.

Perhaps that is why Kidlin's Law, although its origin remains uncertain, has endured for many years as a powerful reminder:

"If you can clearly and accurately write down a problem, you have already solved half of it."

When I taught decision-making courses at the faculty, the point I emphasized more than any other was the importance of defining the problem correctly. In this context, I often quoted a principle that my late father frequently repeated:

"Make a definition that includes everything it should include and excludes everything it should exclude."

This traditional expression captures the essence of a precise definition: one that embraces every relevant element while leaving out everything irrelevant. In many ways, it may be regarded as our country's own version of Kidlin's Law, discovered long before the law itself became widely known.

At first glance, this claim may seem somewhat exaggerated. Can simply writing down a problem really amount to solving half of it? Yet a closer look at life suggests that many dead ends arise not because solutions are unavailable, but because we have never clearly identified what we are actually trying to solve. More often than not, the real challenge is not finding the right answer, but asking the right question.

Uncertainty is among the heaviest burdens we carry. Problems that we cannot name tend to grow larger, and anxieties whose source remains unknown multiply in our minds. As long as a problem remains undefined, it appears bigger, more complicated, and more intimidating than it truly is.

Writing the problem down fundamentally changes this situation. It makes the invisible visible. The fog begins to lift, abstract concerns become concrete, scattered thoughts gradually fall into place, and emotional confusion gives way to clearer reasoning.

Consider a manager who says, "Our employees lack motivation." What does that actually mean? How long has this been happening? Which employees are affected? What evidence supports this conclusion?

Now compare that statement with the following:

"Over the past six months, employee satisfaction surveys have shown a 25 percent decline in team communication scores, while absenteeism has increased."

At that point, the issue is no longer a vague complaint but a concrete reality that can be examined and addressed. As a result, the search for solutions shifts from random trial and error to a focused and systematic process.

The same principle applies to educational institutions. When a school principal says, "We have a discipline problem," the statement expresses concern, but it provides little guidance for action. Which behaviors have increased? In which grade levels or classrooms? How long has the pattern existed? Under what circumstances does it occur?

Once these questions are answered clearly and documented in writing, the problem becomes manageable. Well-defined problems generate the right questions, and the right questions pave the way for effective solutions.

This principle extends far beyond organizations. It is equally relevant in everyday life. We have all said at one time or another, "My life isn't going well." While the statement conveys a genuine feeling, it offers little direction for solving anything.

Now imagine someone saying instead:

"For the past three months, my workload has prevented me from spending enough time with my family, and this has significantly increased my stress."

The problem suddenly becomes tangible. From there, it becomes possible to reorganize work schedules, redistribute responsibilities, or reassess personal priorities.

Scientific thinking is built on exactly the same foundation. Before collecting data, researchers often spend considerable time defining the problem. They formulate possible explanations, develop hypotheses, or construct research questions to guide their investigation. A poorly formulated research question makes meaningful conclusions difficult, no matter how rigorous the research methodology may be. For that reason, a well-defined problem is the true starting point of every scientific inquiry.

An interesting detail is that the exact origin of Kidlin's Law remains unknown. It is not entirely clear who "Kidlin" was or where this statement first appeared. Nevertheless, the quotation has survived not as a formally documented academic principle but as a piece of practical wisdom. Perhaps that is precisely where its strength lies, for some truths continue to prove themselves regardless of who first expressed them.

Ultimately, much of the confusion in our lives stems from not seeing clearly what we are actually struggling against. Before rushing to find solutions, we need to pause, define the problem, write it down, establish its boundaries, and confront it honestly. More often than not, what we need is not more information, but greater clarity.

That is exactly what Kidlin's Law reminds us. Our problems may not disappear overnight. Yet the moment we can describe them clearly, honestly, and precisely, we cross the most critical threshold on the path toward solving them. Because, in many cases, half of the problem is simply seeing it for what it truly is.