Why Do People Ahead Pull the Ladder Up?

I had never heard the phrase before.

It was Mr. K. Annamalai, founder of We the Leaders, who used it during a visit to ASU. I was sitting in the audience when he said something simple that stayed with me:

Some people climb the ladder and then pull it up behind them.

I kept thinking about that phrase. And once you hear it, you start noticing it everywhere.

People who struggled to get somewhere, fought through rejection, uncertainty, loneliness, and doubt — people who know exactly how difficult the climb was — can sometimes become strangely uncomfortable when someone else tries to climb the same ladder.

Take a few successful Indians who have settled abroad. They worked hard to build a life there, navigated unfamiliar systems, built careers, found communities, and earned their place. Yet sometimes, the same people seem reluctant to see more Indians follow them.

Perhaps it is competition. Perhaps it is fear of losing an advantage. Or perhaps, somewhere along the way, being the exception became part of their identity.

The climb was difficult. Nobody disputes that.

But does surviving a difficult journey mean the next person has to struggle just as much?

Somewhere between struggle and success, something can change.

At the beginning, we think, I want to make it.

Then, I made it.

And sometimes, quietly, I don't want too many other people to make it.

That thought rarely appears openly. It comes disguised as advice: "It's not that easy." "You need to take a lot more risk." "People don't understand what it takes."

All of those things may be true.

But sometimes they can also become a way of saying, Don't expect the door to open for you just because it opened for me.

I experienced something that made me think about this personally.

I know someone — a friend's friend — who has lived abroad for years and built what appears to be an impressive career. We had only just met, but some of her questions felt strangely pointed. They made me wonder whether she was asking about my journey or quietly questioning whether I belonged in the room at all.

Later, when I genuinely needed her help, I asked anyway.

Her response, more or less, was:

"Are you even willing to take the kind of risk I once took?"

Maybe she meant it sincerely. Maybe she was trying to challenge me. Maybe she was trying to protect me from a difficult path.

I don't know.

But it made me think that perhaps this behavior isn't always arrogance. Sometimes it is fear — fear of losing an advantage, fear of becoming ordinary, or fear that someone else's success somehow makes ours less special.

But here is where I struggle with the ladder metaphor.

A ladder isn't a trophy. Its purpose isn't to belong to the person who climbed it first. Its purpose is to help people climb.

If I had to struggle to find the ladder, that doesn't mean I should hide it. If I had to climb ten rungs without help, that doesn't mean the next person needs to climb those same ten alone.

We often romanticize hardship. I had to figure it out myself. I didn't have anyone to guide me. I didn't get any shortcuts.

There is pride in that.

But perhaps the greater achievement is making sure the next person doesn't have to repeat every mistake we made.

And what does it really cost to guide someone who is completely naive, but has the right attitude?

Maybe twenty minutes. Maybe one introduction. Maybe sharing one mistake we made five years ago. Maybe simply saying, "This is what I wish someone had told me when I started."

Of course, we don't always have the time.

But not having time today doesn't have to mean closing the door forever. You can reply later. Point them toward someone else. Send one useful resource.

Sometimes even "I can't help right now, but try this" is enough.

Especially when the person asking is willing to learn, listens carefully, doesn't pretend to know everything, and is genuinely grateful.

Everyone who looks competent today was once naive.

Someone once explained the obvious to us. Someone once answered our stupid question. Someone once gave us five minutes that may have saved us months or even years.

We remember the big breaks in our careers. But perhaps we underestimate the small moments of generosity that made those breaks possible.

Maybe the real value of experience isn't simply having it.

It is being willing to pass it on.

Your success doesn't become smaller because someone else succeeds after you. The ladder doesn't become less useful because more people climb it.

So when we finally reach the top, perhaps we have a choice.

We can pull the ladder up. We can leave it where we found it. Or we can extend it a little further.

Because someday, someone will be standing below us, looking up. They may not be asking us to carry them. They may simply need someone to show them where to put their foot next.

And perhaps that is what leadership really looks like.

Not being the only one at the top, but making it possible for someone else to get there too.

So the next time someone inexperienced approaches us with a question, perhaps we should pause before deciding that they are wasting our time.

What if those five minutes could change their next five years?

And when we look back at our own journey, how many people helped us climb without asking for anything in return?

Did their help make our achievement smaller?

Or did it make our climb possible?

Perhaps the real test of success isn't how high we climbed.

Perhaps it is what we chose to do with the ladder once we got there.

Will we pull it up behind us?

Or will we leave it there for the next person?