What If Curiosity Is the Value Everything Else Depends On?

I heard a line recently that made me pause: “I wonder how many people I’ve looked at all my life and never seen?” Soon after, I was reminded of the Abraham Lincoln quote, “I do not like that man. I must get to know him better.” Imagine a world where we lived by that. Where we sought to understand before we judged, looked for connection rather than difference, and led with curiosity before opinion. These words bring up a lot of emotion for me, because we need that so much right now. There is so much judgement, fear, and disconnection. We have forgotten that beneath it all, we are one.

We say we value empathy and respect, yet in the tiny moments of everyday life we jump to conclusions. Someone cuts us off in traffic and we tell ourselves a story about who they are, rather than wondering what they might be rushing toward. A colleague sends a short email and we decide they are rude, rather than asking if they are under pressure or dysregulated. A parent snaps at school pick-up and we label them careless, rather than noticing the exhaustion in their eyes. A team member misses a deadline and we question their commitment, rather than getting curious about competing priorities or unclear expectations. On social media we see a single post and we build a complete character profile. In all these moments we are looking at people, not actually seeing them.

Behind the judging is fear. Fear that we will lose control. Fear that we will be wrong. Fear that if we soften, we will be taken advantage of. If we were living from love, the behaviours those two quotes point to would happen naturally. The truth is, we have far more influence here than we think, and that influence begins inside.

Before we can bring curiosity and compassion to others, we have to learn to bring them to ourselves. The Dalai Lama is often quoted as saying that if we taught every child to meditate, we would end war in one generation. I believe that if we modelled curiosity in our homes, our classrooms, and our organisations, we would radically reduce conflict. Curiosity softens the edges, opens doors, and heals the space between us. When it’s missing, judgement takes its place and connection is lost.

I see this every day in leadership and culture work. When a leader is certain before they are curious, meetings become performances rather than conversations. People stop offering ideas, not because they do not have them, but because they do not feel safe. Innovation slows, trust erodes, and energy drains. When a leader chooses curiosity, something simple and human happens. People lean in. They share. Problems surface earlier. Accountability becomes natural, because people feel ownership and care about the outcome. Results improve because relationships improve. The ripple continues at home, with partners and children, and in communities, because curiosity becomes a way of being and gives permission for others to step into it too.

You might be wondering where we start. There are many doorways, and they all fail if we skip the inner work. We cannot teach this; we have to model it, and modelling only happens when we understand what gets in our way. If a part of me carries a belief that being wrong is unsafe, I will avoid questions and cling to certainty. If a part of me has learned that control is how I stay safe or loved, uncertainty will trigger tension and anxiety in me. If a part of me believes I am only valuable when I am productive, I will judge anyone who moves at a different pace. Until I see these parts and get curious with them, my nervous system will run the show, and no amount of “be curious” posters will change my behaviour.

Here are a few practical starting points that actually build the muscle:

1. Pause before the story. When something triggers you, take three slow breaths and ask, “What story am I telling about this person, and what else could be true?” You do not need to know the answer; you only need to widen the possibility space.

2. Ask one curious question. Instead of jumping to conclusions, try asking, “What feels most important here?” or “What might I be missing?” or “Can you tell me more about how you saw that?” One curious question can change the tone of an entire conversation.

3. Do a quick parts check-in. Name what is happening inside: “A part of me is anxious and wants control right now,” or “A part of me is protecting against looking wrong.” Simply naming it gives you a little space to lead from Self rather than from the part.

4. Replace certainty language with noticing language. Swap “You always” and “You never” for “I notice” and “I’m wondering.” This tiny shift invites dialogue instead of defence.

5. Practice repair. When you catch yourself judging or reacting, return and repair. “I jumped to a conclusion earlier. I am sorry. Can we start again?” Repair is modelling curiosity in action.

For schools and organisations this matters enormously. Values only live if they are modelled. I was once challenged for saying I help schools embed a culture of curiosity because values should be chosen by the people who live them. I agree, and I also believe that if curiosity is missing, judgement will fill the vacuum. Without curiosity, compassion, respect, inclusion, and unity do not have solid ground. Curiosity is the value that keeps other values alive.

I am mindful about the energy of words like “should” and “have to,” and I avoid them most of the time. And still, I feel a strong call here. We have to act. Not through louder opinions or tighter control, but through the courage to look inward, to understand our own parts, to regulate our nervous systems, and to model the way. When we do, people around us start to breathe again. Conversations change. Decisions get clearer. Relationships deepen. The world feels less hostile and more human, because we are finally seeing each other.

If you want a place to begin today, try this simple experiment: notice one moment where you would usually judge, pause, and ask one curious question instead. Then notice how your body feels, and notice what shifts in the other person. That is how ripples start.