What a panel discussion taught me about listening more than speaking

At a panel discussion in Melbourne, I realised I had been approaching conversation as a broadcaster, journalist and speaker: prepare the argument, find the sharp line, deliver it with conviction. That approach works when the material is familiar. It is less useful when the point of being in the room is to understand what other people actually mean. By the end of the session, my most useful contribution had not been my longest answer. It had been the quality of my attention.

Panels compress a whole leadership lesson into public view: everyone can see who takes the floor, who gets interrupted and whether the final point is stronger than the first. In my work as an author, broadcaster and advocate for women’s health and empowerment, I keep returning to one principle. Strong voices need room for other voices. I share more of the wider work behind my career through my official website. In Australia, where a business conversation can quickly move from the agenda to a relaxed “have a yarn”, that principle is especially useful. Ease should not mean aimlessness, and directness should not mean speaking over someone.

The room changed when I stopped performing

A panel has a predictable rhythm. The moderator introduces the subject, each speaker delivers a prepared perspective and the audience absorbs a collection of confident answers. As a presenter, I know how seductive that structure can be. The pressure is to make every point memorable, add a strong anecdote and avoid leaving an obvious gap for someone else to fill.

At the Melbourne business event, the host invited questions from the floor through a QR code, a familiar feature of Australian conferences where audiences are encouraged to keep their phones visible rather than remain passive spectators. Several people began with their role or organisation before asking anything. Others made their point so quickly that the moderator had little opportunity to uncover the experience behind it.

I noticed myself preparing to answer a pause. The silence lasted only a few seconds, but it created enough space for someone to add a different perspective. That person spoke more slowly and appeared to have less polish than the earlier speakers. Their contribution changed the direction of the conversation. The lesson was immediate: listening was not waiting politely for my turn. It was actively helping the discussion become more complete.

Listening became a leadership skill

Active listening is often confused with agreement. In reality, it means listening to understand, testing what you heard and staying curious when the answer differs from your first reaction. On a panel, that requires attention to more than words. I watch posture, tone, hesitation and the willingness of other speakers to build on one another. A person speaking slowly may be constructing an important thought rather than struggling to fill time.

Before joining the final segment by video, I had switched my laptop to dark wallpapers to reduce eye strain. A tired screen does not make a sharper listener. When we rely entirely on audio, we miss subtle changes in energy and become more likely to interrupt. Looking after my own attention helped me remain present for everyone else.

On speaking tours across Sydney, Melbourne and Brisbane, I see strong demand for leaders who can make wellbeing and personal development practical. The Australian corporate market rewards speakers who can combine candid stories with useful tools. Yet a leadership talk that delivers every answer can still leave people passive. Leaders create energy in a room by showing that curiosity has value. They make it safer to admit uncertainty, ask for another view and change their minds when the conversation reveals something they had missed.

Better questions created better conversations

Prepared answers have their place, but they often narrow a conversation. A better question opens a door. “What did you learn from that?” invites reflection. “What would you do differently now?” reveals growth. “Who was affected by this?” brings attention towards people who might otherwise remain outside the discussion. These questions give the panel something more valuable than a series of polished statements.

Australian audiences are often direct in a way that can sound abrupt, yet directness is not the same as rudeness. There is also the Australian instinct toward a fair go: the belief that each person should have a reasonable opportunity to contribute. On one panel, I resisted the urge to correct a speaker who used a phrase differently from me. The disagreement was in the wording, while the underlying concern was the same. Listening closely prevented me from creating an argument that had not been there.

This approach is central to my work through This Girl Is On Fire, where women are encouraged to speak about their experiences, support one another and challenge assumptions without apologising for taking up space. Effective questioning supports that kind of openness. It replaces a demand to perform confidence with an invitation to contribute insight. In discussions about women’s health, that distinction matters because the people with lived experience may have information a predetermined answer would overlook.

Silence carried useful information

Silence can feel like failure on stage. It can also be the most revealing part of a conversation. A pause after a difficult point may show that the audience is processing, discomfort or scepticism. A moderator who fills every silence removes the opportunity to discover which it is. The same applies to speakers. When we rush onwards, we can mistake agreement for understanding.

Australian culture has a complicated relationship with visibility. The tall poppy syndrome makes self-promotion an easy target, while direct, plain-speaking communication is often valued. A quieter contributor should not automatically be treated as less capable or less committed. Their perspective may require more careful framing. The leader’s responsibility is to create conditions in which that perspective can emerge without putting the person on the spot.

Our culturally diverse Australian workplaces also contain different communication rhythms. Some people formulate an answer as they speak, while others need time to organise their thoughts. Differences in eye contact, directness and turn-taking should not be treated as flaws. Good listening means noticing these patterns without making assumptions about anyone’s confidence, background or intentions. It means creating enough psychological safety for the room to speak candidly, including when the honest answer challenges the prevailing view.

The practice had to leave the stage

A lesson matters most when it survives the event. I began changing how I prepare for broadcasts, interviews and panel appearances by identifying the question I most wanted to answer. Then I asked what the audience or guest most needed to hear. That simple distinction reduced the need to dominate the exchange. It also made my contributions more relevant because they were built around the conversation taking place.

The same shift influences how I host events and speak to corporate audiences. When I prepare for a corporate keynote, I now begin with the audience’s concerns rather than my slide sequence. The advice on corporate keynote preparation is valuable, but preparation should include psychological conditions as well as content. People remember how safe they felt to contribute and whether their experience was represented with care.

The contrast becomes clear in practice:

Listening does not mean becoming vague or allowing poor points to pass without challenge. It means handling disagreement with precision rather than volume. A concise response can be extremely powerful, especially when it reflects genuine understanding of what has been said. The aim is not to speak less for its own sake. The aim is to make every contribution count.

The strongest leaders I encounter do not fill every silence or claim every insight. They pay attention, ask questions that reveal substance and give credit to the people who broaden their thinking. That panel in Melbourne taught me that influence grows when we make room for others. Speaking can command attention, but listening is what earns trust.