Advice is one of the most common forms of communication.
We ask for it from friends, from parents, from mentors, from books and podcasts, increasingly from strangers on the internet, and even from AI.
And yet, advice has a remarkably poor success rate. People ask for it and ignore it. People give it and feel frustrated when it isn’t followed. People receive it and sometimes resent the very person trying to help them.
Over the years, I’ve found myself asking the same question repeatedly. Why do people ask for advice and then not follow it?
I’ve often asked it as a manager. A team member comes to me with a challenge. We discuss it. We explore solutions. I share what has worked for me. A few weeks later, the same issue returns. The same conversation follows.
And I find myself thinking: Didn’t we already discuss this? If the advice was clear, why wasn’t it applied?
Which raises an interesting question: If advice is so valuable, why does it fail so often?
That thought returned to me during dinner with an old friend. We were talking about ageing parents and the challenges that come with helping people we care about make decisions. At one point, my husband said something that stayed with me: “You can’t give directions. You have to help them arrive at the answer.”
The more I thought about it, the more I realised this wasn’t just true for parents. It was true for almost everyone. Employees. Friends. Partners. Children. Colleagues.
Perhaps the reason advice fails so often is because people don’t want directions. They want ownership.
When we give advice, we usually think we are sharing knowledge.
But advice often communicates something else.
“I know something you don’t.”
“I’ve been where you are.”
“I can see a solution.”
Most of the time this comes from a place of care.
But advice also introduces hierarchy. One person becomes the knower. The other becomes the learner.
And depending on the relationship, that shift can feel helpful, uncomfortable, or even threatening.
Especially when the advice was never requested.
Some cultures treat advice as care. Others treat it as interference.
In many Asian, Middle Eastern, and family-oriented societies, advice flows freely across generations. Parents advise children. Elders advise younger family members. Seniority often creates an expectation of guidance.
Advice can be interpreted as involvement, concern, and responsibility. Not advising someone can sometimes be interpreted as indifference.
In more individualistic cultures, particularly in parts of Northern Europe, North America, and Australia, unsolicited advice can feel intrusive. People may value autonomy over guidance.
The same sentence that sounds caring in one culture may sound controlling in another. Again, the behaviour doesn’t change. The interpretation does.
In some cultures, giving advice is a sign of care. In others, asking permission before giving advice is a sign of respect.
Regardless of culture, advice becomes easier to accept when people feel ownership of the decision.
This puzzled me for years.
Why ask if you’ve already decided?
Why seek input if you’re going to ignore it?
Because often, people are not looking for solutions. They are looking for clarity. Or validation. Or reassurance.
Sometimes they are trying to think out loud. Sometimes they already know what they want to do and are looking for permission. Sometimes they simply want to feel understood before they feel guided.
The mistake is assuming every request for advice is actually a request for direction. Many are requests for conversation.
One of the strangest things about human behaviour is this: The more directly advice is given, the less likely it is to be accepted.
Nobody enjoys being told what to do. Particularly adults.
Because advice doesn’t just challenge a decision. It challenges autonomy.
The moment people feel their freedom is threatened, they often begin defending the very behaviour they were questioning moments earlier.
The advice may be right. The timing may be wrong.
Advice is easiest to accept when it concerns behaviour. It becomes much harder when it touches identity.
It’s one thing to hear: “Try a different structure for your presentation.”
It’s another to hear: “You’re not a good communicator.”
One critiques an action. The other feels like a judgment of the person.
This is where many feedback and advice conversations break down.
People defend themselves not because the advice is inaccurate. But because it feels personal.
Advice often creates an invisible debt.
If I take your advice and succeed, some of the credit belongs to you. If I take your advice and fail, some of the blame feels connected to you.
Because at the core of it, advice introduces influence. And any influence changes relationships. This is one reason people sometimes reject good advice.
Not because it lacks value. But because accepting it feels like giving away ownership.
The shift that changes everything. The most effective advisors rarely start with answers. They start with questions.
Instead of: “Here’s what you should do.”
They ask:
“What have you already considered?”
“What feels difficult about this?”
“What outcome are you hoping for?”
Questions preserve autonomy. Advice often threatens it. And people support what they help create.
Advice works best when three conditions exist:
It is requested.
The person feels understood.
The timing is right.
Remove any one of those and even brilliant advice can fail. Because advice is not simply information transfer. It is a human interaction. And humans are rarely as rational as information.
Before giving advice, pause and ask:
“Do they need a solution right now?
Or do they need understanding?”
The answer changes the conversation completely.
Advice is often offered as an answer.
But its success depends on whether the other person feels heard before they feel guided.
Because people rarely resist information. They resist losing ownership of their decisions.
Until next time,
Speak. Lead. Inspire.
- Namrta
Make an Impact. Speak, Lead, Inspire
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