Written by Federica Salvi


Someone starts telling you about a problem. Before they've even finished the sentence, you've already formed an opinion. You jump in and share it, clearly and quickly, and for a moment you feel useful, sharp, visibly right. We've all done it, and we've all felt it.

Why does that feel so good? Giving advice and solutions often feels generous. But is it?

There's a paradox at the heart of good leadership: the moment you stop trying to have the answer is the moment you start helping. That means loosening your grip on something most leaders don't realize they're holding onto: the need to be the one with the answer, and the belief that leadership means having it.

We often confuse being useful with being right. It's easy to see why. There's satisfaction in being the person who knows. But when our desire to be helpful becomes a need to have the answer, it stops being about them.


Why a question does what an answer can't

An answer closes a door. It says: here's what to think, now go do it. A question opens one. It says: I trust you to find your own way through this, and I'm here while you do.

That difference matters. When you hand someone a solution, you've solved today's problem but reinforced tomorrow's dependency. When you ask the right question instead, something else happens. They have to think. They have to own what they find. For them, that's empowerment.

For you, it might feel like you've done less than you should have. That's the paradox of asking good questions: it can feel like you're offering less, helping less. In reality, you're doing something much harder and much more valuable. You're creating the space for someone else to reach an answer that will stick because it's theirs.

The trust that gets built along the way

But empowerment isn't the only thing good questions create. They also build trust.

That trust doesn't appear immediately, so it's easy to miss. Asking a genuine, open question (not a leading one dressed up as a question!) is one of the clearest signs of respect you can give someone. It says: I see you, and I want to understand how you see this issue.

Curiosity builds trust in a way that advice rarely does. Advice can be completely right and still land as dismissive because it skips past the person to get to the problem.

We've all been on the receiving end of well-meant advice. Even when it's objectively right, it triggers some defensiveness. A good question does the opposite. It goes through the person to get to the problem and, in doing so, says: you matter here, not just the outcome.

What happens in the pause?

None of this means never offering a view. It means noticing the reflex to jump straight to one, and catching yourself when it happens. You'll feel the answer forming before you're even aware you're reaching for it…

Hold it.

Take one full breath.

Let the silence just be a little longer than feels comfortable.

Ask instead open questions like: What's making this hard to decide? What's the part of this you haven't said out loud yet? What would a courageous step look like to you?

The people you lead walk away having done their own thinking and, in the process, feeling that you were genuinely curious about them, not just their problem.

Summer has a way of slowing everything down, and that's exactly the kind of pace this takes. So here's the invitation for these slower weeks: next time the answer is forming in your head, don't say it. Get curious about the person instead of the problem. Give the conversation the room it needs, even when it costs you the satisfaction of being the one who knows.

What opens up, for you and for them, when you do that?