In meetings, debates, or comment sections, you often hear someone say that we need to do something, that this cannot continue, that someone has to take responsibility. And then we nod, united and engaged, almost indignant. But the moment the question changes from “who wants change?” to “who is willing to change?”, the engagement takes on a different temperature, eyes drop, and the room goes quiet.
Why is it easier to see other people’s flaws than our own?
Isn’t it ironic how good we are at analyzing others? We see leaders who lack backbone, politicians who are out of touch, colleagues who lack ownership, young people who lack discipline, and customers who just do not understand. The list could go on forever.
What is far more difficult is asking the same question inward. Turning criticism toward ourselves feels like a threat, while directing it at others often feels unifying. Our brains are largely designed to protect our identity, not to challenge it. An external opponent creates internal unity. When we can point to management, the system, the market, or “the others,” we strengthen both our self-image and the sense of belonging within the group.
There is a brutal, slightly humorous, and painfully accurate poker saying: If you don’t see the fool, it’s probably you. Around a poker table, it is all about reading the dynamics. If everyone seems smart and calculated, and you cannot quite figure out who is making the bad moves, there is a good chance it is you.
Applied to life, the mechanism is much the same. If everyone else is always the problem, while we feel that “we in here” are always right, there may be a good reason to pause and ask a more uncomfortable question.
The psychology behind the pointing finger
We like to think of ourselves as rational, reflective, and open to improvement, but we are also invested in preserving a positive self-image. That is why we often point outward before we look inward. When something does not work, it is easier to adjust the explanation than to adjust ourselves.
Psychology has documented this for decades. One well-known phenomenon is called self-serving attribution, the tendency to explain success through our own abilities and failure through external circumstances. When things go well, it is because of us. When things go badly, it is because of the system, the market, or other people. In leadership, we see many examples of this pattern. When results are strong, they are often attributed to strategy, decisiveness, and execution. When results fail, people quickly point to the market, framework conditions, or the organization. That does not mean external factors are irrelevant, but the pattern is recognizable.
This does not only apply to leaders. It applies to all of us.
We are also vulnerable to what is called confirmation bias. We look for information that supports what we already believe, and overlook what challenges us. It protects our identity and makes the world feel more predictable than it really is.
Our brains were not originally developed for self-criticism and continuous development, but for survival. They are there to protect us, secure belonging, and reduce risk. When we experience criticism, uncertainty, or demands for change, the same mechanisms are activated as with social threat. It is less about logic and more about safety.
Change is also connected to loss. Behavioral economics shows that we react more strongly to loss than to gain. Loss of control, loss of status, loss of comfort, and sometimes loss of the story we have told about ourselves.
We say we want development, but what we really want is improvement without cost.
We would like to start something of our own without risking security, invest without tolerating fluctuations, and win the lottery without buying a ticket. We want freedom, growth, and new opportunities, but hesitate when faced with the uncertainty that comes with them, even though risk is always the price of development, whether it is about starting something of your own, investing, speaking up in a meeting, or simply daring to do something differently than yesterday. The difference often lies not in talent, but in who actually dares to try.
Change management in practice: Why does everyone want development, but no one wants to change?
In working life, we see again and again that we talk about the need for a better culture, more innovation, and stronger customer orientation, and everyone agrees until it means that we ourselves have to do something differently. As soon as it means we have to stop doing what we have always done, learn something new, be measured in a different way, or let go of habits and power, change becomes something expected to be handled by management, HR, the market, or technology.
I once learned from a skilled leader that you should never criticize something without having at least one suggestion for a solution. That principle has stayed with me ever since. It is easy to point out everything that does not work. It is far more demanding to say: This is something we can do differently.
The same principle applies in customer service. The customer should not leave the conversation without an answer, or at least a concrete plan for what happens next. We cannot simply state the problem and pass it on. We have to own part of the solution.
In reality, this is universal. If we believe something is not working, we also have a responsibility to contribute direction, not just criticism. That does not mean we have to solve everything alone, but that we move from being commentators to becoming participants.
It is almost fascinating how quickly we go from being reform-friendly to becoming defenders of the status quo the moment the reform affects our own everyday life. The difference often lies in whether we are willing to take ownership of a small part of the solution, or whether we prefer to remain on the outside analyzing.
Self-awareness at work: What role do I play myself?
I like to think I am a little more self-aware than average, a little more reflective, and a little more willing to adjust course. At the same time, I have to admit that I am probably not that different from most people. My first intuitive reaction is often the same as everyone else’s. I see what is not working out there. I see what others should have done differently. It happens quickly, almost automatically. The brain is insanely efficient that way.
The difference, if there is one, may not be that I am free from this mechanism, but that over many years I have practiced stopping myself and asking the uncomfortable question: What role do I play here?
I have my blind spots, my explanations, and my excuses, often dressed up as well-considered assessments. I can believe that others should become better at listening, while I am already preparing my next argument in my head as they speak. I can believe organizations need to become more agile, while defending my own ways of working. I can believe society needs more courage, while carefully weighing my own words to avoid resistance.
The poker saying appears again. If I never see my own role in the dynamic, it may be because I am sitting right in the middle of it. That does not mean I am always wrong, but it does mean I am rarely completely without influence.
Why does real change start with personal responsibility?
There is an important difference between blame and responsibility. Blame is about placing the cause backward in time. Responsibility is about what we choose to do going forward.
We can spend a lot of energy figuring out who should have done something differently. But the question that actually moves something is another one: What do I do now, given the situation as it is?
Personal responsibility does not mean that everything is our fault. It means recognizing that we always have some room for action, even when it is small. Sometimes it is about speaking up. Other times it is about changing our own behavior. Sometimes it is about not reinforcing a negative dynamic.
Maybe we can remind ourselves of a few simple questions:
- What can I influence here, even if I cannot control everything?
- Am I reinforcing the problem through my own reaction?
- Have I contributed a solution, or only an analysis?
- If everyone acted like me in this situation, would it move us forward?
This is where the difference appears. Not between those who are right and those who are wrong, but between those who remain commentators and those who step in as participants.
Self-leadership instead of moralizing: Daring to see your own weaknesses
It is easy to write about this as a problem with “most people.” It is also comfortable, because it places us outside what we are describing. The truth is less comfortable. We are all part of the same pattern.
We defend our own choices, hold on to habits, and explain the world in ways that make sense to ourselves. It happens quickly and often without us noticing. Maturity does not lie in being flawless, but in discovering your own blind spots without spending all your energy defending them.
I often catch myself saying: “Well, we are only human.” Usually when someone has made a mistake and is almost apologizing for not being perfect. It is a good reminder that no one is flawless, but it can also easily become a small free pass. We react, draw quick conclusions, and defend ourselves faster than we like to admit.
The interesting part is what happens when we notice it. Can we pause and ask: What role do I play here? That awareness creates a small space for action. There we can adjust course, even when it is a little uncomfortable. There we move from commentator to participant. From wanting change to actual change.
