Written by: J.C. Lintzenich
Written by: J.C. Lintzenich
At a recent D.C. think tank event I attended, a panelist made a blunt statement with unmistakable conviction: senior government officials would make better decisions if they would simply listen to the “experts.”
On the surface that comment makes sense, and there is certainly no shortage of examples where leaders would have benefited from better advice or paid closer attention to warnings they received. But the argument that "expert' was making is both biased and incomplete.
Decision-makers should listen to experts. They should seek them out, test their arguments, and understand where to integrate their advice. Expertise, however, is only one input into a decision, not a substitute for making one. A person responsible for an outcome must learn to reconcile expert advice with the judgment of their internal team, the realities of the institution, competing priorities, available resources, political and organizational constraints, and their own learned personal experience.
That tempering of expert advice against many other factors is not a failure to respect established expertise. It is a responsibility inherent to leadership.
Experts are usually asked to go deep on a topic an organization may not have the experience or bench to address. These well-informed individuals study a problem, master a discipline, identify patterns, and develop knowledge that a generalist leader cannot replicate across every issue demanding attention. Their value is precisely that concentration. The difficulty is that consequential decisions rarely remain inside one discipline.
A defense acquisition decision may involve technology, operational need, industrial capacity, budget, alliances, congressional support, training, logistics, and time, while a corporate decision about entering a foreign market may involve regulation, capital, supply chains, political risk, reputation, workforce, and the intentions of people outside the company's control. Each field may have experts offering sound advice from within it, yet their recommendations can still point in different directions. The technical expert may identify the best-performing solution. The financial team may judge it unaffordable. The operator may see that it cannot be integrated on the required timeline. The lawyer may explain what is permissible, while the communications team warns that a legally defensible decision will be publicly misunderstood. The people responsible for execution may know that the organization lacks the capacity, trust, or leadership attention to carry it out. Each perspective can be correct and the decision can still be difficult. Experts tend to optimize for the problem they know best. Leaders must decide across the entire decision environment.
Expertise is most useful when it illuminates a decision, not when it assumes ownership of it. The expert who treats questions as an affront or implies that disagreement can only result from ignorance should not be surprised when their advice eventually carries less weight. Being the smartest person on one part of the problem does not make someone the smartest person on the whole problem. Experts who understand that limitation are usually the ones decision-makers trust most.
There is another distinction that polite discussions often avoid: knowing a subject is not the same as having carried responsibility for it.
A lawyer who has never argued in a courtroom may understand the law exceptionally well, but not the rhythm, pressure, and uncertainty of trial. A hospital administrator may understand systems, finance, and regulation without ever having touched a patient. A defense analyst may study military power for decades without having served in a formation, watched a plan collide with terrain and friction, or been accountable for the people ordered to execute it. None of that invalidates their expertise. Distance often allows an expert to see assumptions that practitioners have stopped noticing. But it also shapes what they know and what they may not.
Lived experience develops forms of judgment that are difficult to acquire from the outside. It teaches which constraints are real, which are merely customary, how organizations behave under pressure, what information reaches senior leaders, what gets filtered along the way, and how a decision that appears clear in a briefing can become ambiguous in execution. Most importantly, responsibility changes the way a person evaluates advice. Recommending an action is different from owning its consequences. The decision-maker must live with the tradeoffs, answer for the second-order effects, and continue leading if the preferred course fails.
That burden does not make leaders automatically wiser than experts, but it does mean they are asking a different question. The expert may ask, "What is the best answer based on my research?" The leader must ask, "What is the best decision under these conditions, for this institution, at this time, based on what I know and have experienced?"
The answer is not to replace expertise with experience. Experience can become its own trap.
Leaders often trust what has worked before, give greater weight to risks they have personally encountered, and discount possibilities outside their history. A veteran of one crisis may see the next crisis through the same frame. A successful executive may confuse the conditions that enabled a past decision with timeless rules. Practitioners can become so fluent in how an institution works that they stop asking whether it should work that way at all.
The expert without lived experience may underestimate friction, while the practitioner may overlearn it. One can mistake theory for reality; the other can mistake accumulated experience for the full range of what is possible. This is why the strongest decisions rarely come from choosing between experts and practitioners. They come from creating disciplined tension between them.
Good decision-making does not eliminate those competing perspectives. It makes them visible.
The decision-maker’s internal team occupies a unique position between outside expertise and executive judgment. They understand the institution's capabilities, history, culture, and constraints, and they will often carry the decision long after the experts have moved to the next question. That proximity is valuable, but it introduces its own risks.
Teams learn what leaders prefer. They understand which ideas are likely to advance, which arguments create resistance, and how much dissent the institution truly rewards. Over time, even talented teams can begin solving for the leader rather than the problem. Familiarity can narrow the range of options considered, while organizational incentives shape which risks receive attention and which remain unspoken.
Outside experts challenge internal consensus. Internal teams expose where external recommendations collide with reality. Experienced leaders must recognize the patterns that neither group may see on its own. The objective is not to determine which deserves precedence, but to understand what each contributes, what each is likely to miss, and where their disagreement reveals something important.
Too often there is also a translation problem. Experts often speak in the language of their discipline. Operators speak in the language of execution. Institutions speak through process, incentives, budgets, and authorities. Senior leaders speak in decisions: what must be done, by whom, when, at what cost, with what risk, and how success or failure will be recognized.
Someone must connect those worlds.
A decision-maker must understand enough of the expert's argument to preserve what is essential, enough of the institution to know what is possible, and enough of their own responsibility to recognize the real tradeoffs. Translation does not mean simplifying until every hard edge disappears. It means converting specialized insight into choices an organization can execute. This is particularly important when government, business, technology, and geopolitics intersect. Each community has its own vocabulary, incentives, timelines, and assumptions. A recommendation that makes perfect sense in one can be impractical or counterproductive in another.
The most useful adviser is therefore usually not the person with the deepest knowledge of a single subject. It is the person who can ask the right questions across several subjects, identify where expert conclusions depend on unspoken assumptions, and show the decision-maker how those conclusions interact.
Before acting, a decision maker should be able to answer several basic questions.
What does an expert actually know, and where does that knowledge end? Which actions will depend on assumptions outside the expert's field? What does the internal team understand that an outsider may not? What might the team be discounting because of institutional habit or incentive? Which lessons from the leader's own experience genuinely apply, and which may be artifacts of a different situation?
Then comes the question: Who will own the consequences? The answer is clear...
Leaders do not earn their position by possessing more knowledge than every expert around them. They earn it by creating a process in which knowledge, experience, institutional reality, and dissent can be converted into a coherent choice. They must decide when the evidence is incomplete, when qualified people disagree, and when every available option carries risk. They ultimately own the risk and the consequences.
There are lots of smart people. There are fewer who can connect expertise to execution, and fewer still who have advised decision-makers while also having made those same consequential decisions themselves. The point of this article (and expert advice therein) is not that leaders should listen to the experts less. It is that they should listen more intelligently: understand the value and limits of expertise, test it against experience, expose it to the people who must execute, and then make the decision.
Experts advise. Leaders decide.