"Shoe Horn"

I recently received a lot of praise because, according to them, I had effectively led and guided a team. I usually handle compliments pretty well :), and this time even more so because I didn’t see the praise coming. My approach of helping people work together to achieve our objectives comes quite naturally to me. So why open a column with this now? Is it a bit of ego? I can’t rule it out, but without wanting to hold myself up as an example, I think it’s mainly a way to illustrate a lesson.

Here’s what I got back: “You’re passionate about our shared goal, you let us contribute ideas and provide direction, you let go and make room for execution and development, but you do participate, and you’re always there when we need you.” That’s quite something. Essentially, I can relate to it. I think it struck a chord with me because I spend a lot of time thinking about leading others—both individually and collectively—but I’d never considered a real-life example so close to home.

What might we learn from this? Well, I read a lot about how leaders can guide a group of people toward an objective or destination they don’t (want to) know. And to be honest, I’m pretty sick of it. Yet another new definition of leadership or yet another ten-point list of what good, inclusive, decisive, fair, open, intuitive, communicative, attentive, …, and servant leaders who set a good example are supposed to live up to :).

It’s all true! And yet (therefore) these are useless lists of clichés. Not only is effective leadership highly context-dependent, but there are simply too many factors involved, making it difficult to define. It’s just like with other broad concepts, such as “love”—once you start trying to describe it, you’re lost.

I think we’d be better off stopping trying to rationalize a meta- and multidimensional concept like leadership. We can continue to reflect on it, but determining whether someone is a good leader—for you—is a very small, personal, and implicit judgment. Whether you “accept” someone as a leader is primarily a matter of perceived appeal—on the levels of reason, emotion, and intention.

Do I take action with, for, and on behalf of that person? Using “carrots and sticks.” And what values do I then experience? Learning occurs, can I be myself, do I gain clarity, am I taken care of, am I held accountable for my commitments and agreements? A series of observations yields answers to these kinds of implicit questions. And that’s how one also gets a sense of someone’s true nature. Is it for our sake, or is he or she doing it mainly for themselves? Is there vulnerable (self-)reflection, or does the ego prevail?

Thanks to the trumpet, I’ve found not a definition but a symbol for all this incredibly elusive stuff. The shoehorn: a little nudge here and there, working on the conditions, making movement possible, so that someone can step in on their own and, equipped with the right tools, take steps toward the goal? And mind you, a shoehorn has no ego.

This isn’t a new definition of leadership. There won’t be a book, nor a ten-point list. The only question I think everyone should ask themselves is: Is my leader like a shoehorn to me?