On Advice

For a few years now I’ve made a conscious effort not to give advice. At the very least, not until someone asks for it — and ideally, not at all. This is harder than it sounds. The urge to advise sits deep in us. It comes from a hidden need to play the toxic role of “the teacher,” which lives in almost every one of us.

Our ego convinces us that we see the situation more clearly, more objectively, and that our advice is bound to help. Just “do this and it’ll all work out.” And if you don’t listen — well, that’s on you. We imagine we can shape another person’s life, improve it, spare them their mistakes. That unspoken sense of superiority hands us a feeling of importance, like we’re some arbiter of fate. But let’s ask ourselves: who actually needs us meddling in someone else’s life — our companion, or us?

In practice, advice often turns out to be not just unwelcome but harmful, especially in the moments when someone is going through something personal and painful.

I remember a time when a friend landed in a hard spot and called me. I was sure I knew exactly what he should do, and I started, quite literally, forcing a plan of action on him. He cut me off: “Diman, I don’t need advice right now — I just need someone to be on my side.” I’ll admit I was even a little hurt that he wouldn’t blindly follow my guidance. But over time I understood that often the best help is sympathy and unconditional emotional support, not a parade of solutions, however “well-intentioned.” And well-intentioned for whom? For him, or for me?

At the same time, when someone deliberately asks us for advice, we suddenly grow far more careful. We start to feel the weight of the possible consequences. Because advice, in essence, is a partial transfer of responsibility — off the person asking and onto us. If something goes wrong, then in their eyes the blame is partly ours.

Advice about choices is almost always bad advice: recommend “yes,” and if it falls apart, we own the failure; recommend “no,” and the other person may spend a lifetime regretting that they never tried — and blaming us for the chances they missed. Either way, we end up holding the bag. Is that really what we were after?

So how do we help someone find their own way? The coaching approach comes to the rescue: just ask questions, again and again. As they answer, the other person arrives, on their own, at the conclusions that are truest for them.

Only when someone makes a decision for themselves, and consciously, do they take the responsibility on and answer for what follows.

Supporting others as they find their own road — now that’s a worthy role.

Here’s to the wisdom of silence, and to owning every word we speak! 😎