What is leadership, if not the challenge of navigating the many flavors of “It depends” that every question, every problem, seems to carry?
One of those questions is:
How do you help someone succeed at their job — without doing their job for them?
It’s a question I found myself asking many times, once upon a time — not too long ago. Wrestling with it. Asking others. And more often than not, being met with a shrug, a laugh, a shaking head, and the classic: “It depends.”
That same question still pops up — more often than you’d think.
But now… I seem to be the one doing the answering.
---
Sidenote: I don’t claim to have the answers. I’m doing my best — mostly making it up as I go (like most people, I think). So take everything I’m about to say with the biggest grain of pink Himalayan salt.
Okay. Back to the post.
---
Autonomy × Bandwidth
There’s a piece of leadership advice I picked up from Adam Savage, originally from his book Every Tool Is a Hammer.
He shared a dinner conversation with filmmaker Guillermo del Toro. Adam asked him:
How do you manage dozens of artists to make something cohesive — something that honors a singular vision?
Guillermo replied:
“You have to give everyone complete autonomy within a narrow bandwidth.”
Somehow, that contrast — autonomy vs. bandwidth — helped it click. No corporate phrasing of “scope,” “DRI,” or “role clarity” ever landed quite like this.
It’s not about micromanaging. It’s not about letting people do whatever they want, either. It’s about understanding the vision. Helping them get it. Then giving them the freedom to do their thing — within the edges that matter most.
As Adam puts it:
“You want the people helping you to be energized and involved; you want them contributing their creativity, not just following your orders.”
You want movement with direction. Creativity with constraint. Chaos with choreography.
Maximum autonomy. Manageable bandwidth.
Falling ≠ Failing
Another framing I’ve been learning to see more clearly is the difference between falling and failing. The shift is subtle — but it changes everything.
The key (for me anyway) was to inverse the question.
Don’t ask:
“How do I help this person fail safely?”
Ask:
“How many setbacks can this project afford?”
That one shift helps shape how much bandwidth you give someone to move autonomously.
Yes — people will make mistakes. (Including us, as leads.) And yes — people usually learn from those mistakes, if you support them and if they put in the effort.
But here’s what I believe:
Projects should not be sacrificed for the growth of their contributors.
You don’t serve questionably safe food just because someone’s still learning how to cook.
You can’t just let people fail in a vacuum. You can’t “empower” someone and then disappear. You don’t get to say “it’s their ownership” and then wash your hands when the fire alarm goes off.
Leadership is scaffolding, not surrender.
Let people fall (and pick themselves up). Don’t let the whole thing fail.
The Work
Leadership isn’t about control. It’s about knowing where freedom belongs — and where it doesn’t.
Define the edges. Give people room. Stay close when they fall. Help them get back up. Push them to keep moving.
Clear the path. Pick up the pieces. Protect the project.
Don’t hover. But don’t drift. Don’t control. But don’t disappear. That tension? That’s where leadership lives. In the dance between attention and trust.
That’s autonomy. That’s the challenge.
That’s... the work.