The answers are usually preceded by the right questions. If you don't know what the problem is or why an initiative isn't working, you can't start looking for solutions.
But here's the thing -- oftentimes, the right questions are incredibly painful.
Imagine being an Old Bolshevik in Stalin's Russia. Against all odds, you overthrew the Tsar and you think you're on the path to paradise on Earth. But... things start getting shaky and your old comrades start getting arrested. Would you ask, "Hey, what if Comrade Stalin isn't actually a good guy? What if he's a murderous sadistic bandit at heart? What if the courts are an abomination with no notion of justice? What if we're at terrible risk?"
You read that on paper. It makes sense. But for a person there, in Moscow, then, it would have been near impossible to ask. Where else would you go? What else would you do? Your whole life was Russia. You were persona non grata in most of the world. You spoke Russian, and your family was there.
Yet, you and your family were in line to get executed if you stuck around. You should have asked the question. You had to ask that question.
But you can't. Even thinking of it is painful.
The stakes are a bit lower with questions of personal skill and competence. Analyzing the areas you're good and weak at is not as difficult if asking if your entire way of life has become a risk.
And yet, it's also incredibly difficult.
Sometimes, getting the question down feels relieving... for a moment. A question like, "What if I'm actually not good at XXX key skill, and I'm actually incompetent there? And it's key to my success?"
Many people with no training, skill, practice, or background in an area still think they're good at it. The famous study where over 90% of college professors rate themselves better than average comes to mind.
What if they asked, "What if I'm a bad professor? What if my teaching sucks? What if my classes are boring and the information isn't retained? What if I'm doing a disservice to my students and being self-serving and arrogant? What then?"
If you ask that, it can sometimes paradoxically feel relieving at first. "Hey, I've identified a huge problem."
But the gravity of it sets in the next day. To un-break your teaching, or whatever skill, would require maybe even a few years of constant study and improvement, checking your ego, questioning yourself. It won't always be fun.
But it's key to ask. It's the only way to improve. It hurts and it's scary, so most people don't ask. But you need to ask. Look for the questions that hurt to ask. That's when you're on to something.