Loved this—especially the way it resists the instinct to valorize action as inherently good or effective. The breakdown of “just do it” as a kind of cultural shorthand for leadership really stuck with me. Movement is often equated with progress, but sometimes it makes you want to shake someone by the shoulders and say, “No! Don’t just do it. Think about it.” Too bad they’re in an ivory tower—and you’re locked out.
What lingered was the reminder that action is often used as a shield—proof that something happened, even if it wasn’t helpful. I see this all the time in preparation for quarterly board meetings: How can we show something happened? Anything? It doesn’t matter what. It doesn’t matter if it worked.
And when you don’t act immediately—when you pause to think or ask a few questions first—it’s easy to get labeled as indecisive (been there, been labeled that). We say we value thoughtfulness, but we tend to reward speed.
There’s something grounding about reframing leadership not as movement, but as care—about what’s done, how it’s done, and who it’s for. Thank you for writing this.
Your reference to the board meeting reminded me of a university president I served under as a dean. He had been truly very active and effective for the better part of a decade. He was superb at pivoting to seize opportunities. But then he grew fat and satiated. After that every board of trustees meeting was an exercise in convincing everyone we were still moving fast.
I used to get a kick out of watching him spin reality so that stagnation would seem dynamic. Some of his tricks were simple—bringing out the same architectural renderings of a “future” building for years, finding clever ways to make flaccid enrollment look robust, “exploring” new opportunities, etc. Meanwhile, he personally was the number one obstacle to progress. It took the board many years before they finally caught on.
He didn’t care. He only wanted to appear to be moving, and that was enough for a very long time. Thanks for the comment.
Jim, I’ve watched entire decks built around velocity with no vector—just a blur of acronyms and architectural renderings (those never die, do they?). It’s wild how long performative momentum can sustain a career. Maybe that’s the real strategy: stay in motion long enough and no one asks where you’re going. Pretty grim. Still, I believe there’s a better way—and I know I’m not the only one. 🌱
Loved this—especially the way it resists the instinct to valorize action as inherently good or effective. The breakdown of “just do it” as a kind of cultural shorthand for leadership really stuck with me. Movement is often equated with progress, but sometimes it makes you want to shake someone by the shoulders and say, “No! Don’t just do it. Think about it.” Too bad they’re in an ivory tower—and you’re locked out.
What lingered was the reminder that action is often used as a shield—proof that something happened, even if it wasn’t helpful. I see this all the time in preparation for quarterly board meetings: How can we show something happened? Anything? It doesn’t matter what. It doesn’t matter if it worked.
And when you don’t act immediately—when you pause to think or ask a few questions first—it’s easy to get labeled as indecisive (been there, been labeled that). We say we value thoughtfulness, but we tend to reward speed.
There’s something grounding about reframing leadership not as movement, but as care—about what’s done, how it’s done, and who it’s for. Thank you for writing this.
Your reference to the board meeting reminded me of a university president I served under as a dean. He had been truly very active and effective for the better part of a decade. He was superb at pivoting to seize opportunities. But then he grew fat and satiated. After that every board of trustees meeting was an exercise in convincing everyone we were still moving fast.
I used to get a kick out of watching him spin reality so that stagnation would seem dynamic. Some of his tricks were simple—bringing out the same architectural renderings of a “future” building for years, finding clever ways to make flaccid enrollment look robust, “exploring” new opportunities, etc. Meanwhile, he personally was the number one obstacle to progress. It took the board many years before they finally caught on.
He didn’t care. He only wanted to appear to be moving, and that was enough for a very long time. Thanks for the comment.
Jim, I’ve watched entire decks built around velocity with no vector—just a blur of acronyms and architectural renderings (those never die, do they?). It’s wild how long performative momentum can sustain a career. Maybe that’s the real strategy: stay in motion long enough and no one asks where you’re going. Pretty grim. Still, I believe there’s a better way—and I know I’m not the only one. 🌱