We’re curious by nature. When only part of a story is shared, the rest gets filled in anyway. We all have vivid imaginations. Context gets invented, and meaning drifts. Not because people have bad intentions, but because uncertainty invites interpretation.
Music offers a useful analogy. We expect resolution by the end of a song. When it doesn’t arrive, we feel it immediately. There’s a scene in Amadeus where Salieri criticizes Mozart for failing to give listeners a clear ending, something that tells them when to clap. The point isn’t about applause. It’s about expectation. When resolution is withheld, attention doesn’t disappear. It lingers, waiting for something more.
The same thing happens in collaborative work. When information is selectively shared, people don’t wait patiently. They draw conclusions. Sometimes those conclusions are generous. Often they aren’t. Transparency doesn’t mean oversharing or narrating every decision as it happens. It means acknowledging what’s present rather than turning a blind eye. When truths are named early, they’re usually easier to deal with. When they’re avoided, they don’t go away. They surface later with more force.
Even the most carefully manicured presence has gaps. Those gaps invite curiosity. Sometimes they invite suspicion. Saying what’s true before someone else does isn’t about control. It’s about clarity that can stand up over time.
Transparency isn’t an operating system that guarantees harmony. It’s simply a way of reducing unnecessary noise so people can work with what’s actually there.