A few months ago, I watched two leaders have a feedback conversation; one very effective and one ineffective.
Both used almost exactly the same feedback framework. If you’d listened in, you might have struggled to explain why one conversation deepened trust while the other quietly damaged it. The framework wasn’t the difference. The person was.
One leader walked into the room holding their interpretation lightly. They had observations, but they hadn’t yet decided what those observations meant. They asked questions because they wanted to understand what had happened. The other leader walked into the room convinced they already knew. Before the conversation had even begun, they had decided why the other person had behaved the way they did. Every question they asked quietly pulled the conversation toward a conclusion they had already reached.
One leader could feel frustration arising and stay with it long enough to become curious about it. The other never noticed their frustration. It leaked into the room through their tone, their questions and the meaning they attached to every answer.
Neither of those things appears in a feedback model. Yet they shape almost everything that follows.
Hard truth: Feedback is limited by the person giving it
Most companies have a feedback model. Maybe it’s SBI (Situation–Behavior–Impact). Maybe it’s Radical Candor. Maybe it’s 360 reviews or training on how to “have difficult conversations.” Most leaders I work with know these frameworks well. They’ve sat through the workshops, read the books, and can explain exactly how they’re supposed to deliver feedback.
And yet the same question keeps resurfacing. If we all know the frameworks, why do feedback conversations still so often end in defensiveness, misunderstanding or quiet resentment? Why can two leaders use exactly the same model and create completely different experiences for the person sitting across from them? And perhaps the bigger question: with all these feedback conversations happening every day, why do people so often leave them unchanged? If feedback is meant to help us grow, why does real transformation remain so rare?
At some point, I stopped asking, What’s the best feedback model? and started asking a different question: What if we’re asking the model to do something it was never designed to do?
A framework can help you structure a conversation but it can’t help you notice that you’ve already decided what the other person’s intentions were before they walked into the room. It can’t tell you that you’re listening less to understand than to confirm the story you’ve already constructed. It can’t show you that the emotion shaping the conversation isn’t coming from the other person at all but from something that’s been activated inside you.
The quality of a feedback conversation is rarely determined by the model. It’s determined by the awareness of the person using it. Two people can follow the same framework word for word but if one is attached to being right while the other is genuinely curious, the conversations will feel entirely different. The framework stays the same. The consciousness behind it does not.
Effective feedback requires so much more than communication skills
I think we’ve accidentally reduced feedback to a communication skill.
We spend our time searching for better frameworks, better questions and better ways to phrase difficult messages. Those things matter and they can absolutely help. But every framework quietly assumes something before the conversation even begins.
It assumes:
- I can notice what’s happening inside me while I’m speaking
- I can tell the difference between the facts of the situation and the story I’ve created about the situation (or person)
- I can recognize when I’m trying to understand someone and when I’m trying to control them or the situation (or I am trying to be right)
- I know when a feeling (say disappointment, frustration or sadness) has quietly transformed into a judgment
- I can notice when the intensity of my reaction is telling me something about myself (and not the other person)
- I can stay connected to what’s important to me without needing the other person to agree with my interpretation
Those aren’t communication skills. They’re human capacities.
And no framework can create those capacities. It can guide the conversation but it can’t bring awareness to the person having it. It can’t reveal what “part of me” is speaking or help me distinguish what I’m observing from what I’m projecting.
Why the Same Model Produces Different Results
So, I think I’m less interested in whether a leader knows the feedback model. I’m more interested in whether they know themselves.
- Can you notice the tightening in your body before you speak?
- Can you hear the story you’ve already started telling yourselves about the other person?
- Can you feel the moment you stop trying to understand and start trying to be right/win?
- Can you recognize when a feeling (like disappointment or frustration) has quietly become judgment?
- Can you notice when what your feedback is actually about you?
Those capacities shape the conversation long before the first sentence leaves your mouth. By the time the framework enters the picture, much of the conversation has already been determined. The framework simply gives those capacities somewhere to live.
Something to Notice This Week
The next time you find yourself thinking, “I need to give someone feedback,” pause for a moment before you think about the model.
Instead, notice yourself.
- What am I feeling right now?
- What story have I already decided is true?
- What outcome am I attached to?
- What “part of me” is trying to protect something?
- What might this reaction be asking me to see about myself?
Spend a few moments there before deciding what you’re going to say. You may discover that the most important work isn’t preparing the conversation. It’s preparing yourself.
One Final Thought
I’ve come to appreciate frameworks more than ever.
A great framework is a gift. It’s someone else’s years of careful observation distilled into something the rest of us can learn from. It gives us language for experiences that are often difficult to name and helps us notice patterns we might otherwise miss.
I just don’t expect the framework to do the human work anymore.
“Feedback” is only a word. Like every useful word, it compresses an incredibly rich human experience into something we can talk about together. That’s one of the great gifts of language. It helps us navigate complexity. Every now and then, though, it’s worth remembering that the word is pointing toward something far richer than itself.
The framework can guide the conversation.
It can’t tell me what “part of me” is speaking.
Note: If this idea resonates, there are many traditions that explore our inner world in greater depth. One that has influenced my own thinking is Internal Family Systems, developed by Richard Schwartz.
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