Why Does a Mentor, mentor?

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There is something rather curious about mentoring.

We understand why parents invest in their children. We understand why teachers teach, why leaders develop their teams and why coaches strive to improve performance. Each of these relationships carries with it an obligation, an expectation or a clearly defined purpose.

A mentor is different.

There is no contract. No reporting relationship. No formal accountability. Often no reward. And yet, in every profession, every generation and almost every civilisation, there have always been people who voluntarily invest their time, attention and emotional energy in helping another human being grow.

Why? It is an oddly neglected question. Most writing on mentoring focuses, understandably, on the mentee. How does one find a mentor? What should a mentee expect? How should organisations create mentoring programmes? These are all important questions. But they quietly assume that mentors will always be available.

That assumption deserves examination. Why would an accomplished individual, often at the busiest stage of life, willingly take on the responsibility of someone else's growth?

There can never be a single answer. Human motivation is rarely that neat. Yet history, psychology and simple observation suggest that mentors are often animated by impulses that run much deeper than generosity.

Some mentor because they carry an enduring sense of gratitude. Somewhere in their own journey, someone saw possibilities in them that they could not yet see themselves. A parent, a teacher, a demanding boss, an unexpected sponsor or perhaps simply a timely act of kindness altered the trajectory of their lives. Such people rarely speak of repaying that debt. They know some debts cannot be repaid. They can only be honoured by extending the same generosity to someone else.

Others mentor for a reason that is harder to describe because it is less a choice than a disposition. They instinctively notice promise where others see inexperience. They ask questions that provoke rather than impress. They derive genuine satisfaction from watching another person succeed, often without ever mentioning the part they played in that success. Mentoring is not an activity they perform. It is an expression of who they have become.

As careers mature, many people discover that the most valuable thing they possess is not knowledge but judgment. Knowledge is increasingly abundant. Judgment is shaped by disappointments, difficult conversations, failures, ambiguity, compromises and time. It was earned.

Long before organisations recognised the value of mentoring, civilisations had already reached the same conclusion. The Guru-Shishya tradition in India, Aristotle and Alexander, Confucius and his disciples, the Japanese Senpai–Kōhai tradition and medieval apprenticeships all recognised that there are some things one generation simply cannot leave to chance. Not because information would be lost, but because judgment might be.

Psychologist Erik Erikson described one of the defining characteristics of mature adulthood as generativity—the desire to nurture and guide the next generation and create something that outlives oneself.

Most organisations are becoming exceptionally good at transferring knowledge. Yet they have changed very little about how judgment develops. Judgment still grows in conversation, observation, reflection and trust.

Perhaps that is why mentoring has survived every technological revolution. Its purpose was never merely to transfer knowledge. It was to cultivate judgment.

Instead of asking, 'Who is experienced enough to become a mentor?' perhaps organisations should ask, 'Who feels compelled to mentor?'

In the end, mentoring is less about teaching than about stewardship. It is one generation quietly deciding that what it has learnt should not end with it.

If this is why mentors mentor, what is it that mentees are really seeking from another human being that books, courses, experience and even artificial intelligence still cannot fully provide?

Perhaps that is where the next conversation should begin.

Anand Shankar

Thinker. Learner. Shaper. Wry.

Anand is a Partner at Deloitte South Asia and works in the area where strategy meets leadership. He is a visiting faculty in leading global business schools and specialises in developing senior leaders and their teams.

All the views expressed here are his own and do not represent Deloitte, any of its associated firms or its clients.

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