Google ‘leadership’ and you’ll get 5,440,000,000 results.
Perhaps the best example of how leadership is currently viewed is illustrated by the unfolding AFL scandal enveloping North Melbourne’s new coach Alastair Clarkson and Brisbane coach Chris Fagan.
Clarkson coached the Hawks to four premierships. Fagan, his former Hawthorn football lieutenant, is head coach at the Lions. Their coaching ability is not in question.
Investigations will determine their role – if any – in the shocking revelations that are chewing up headlines and chatrooms.
Clarkson has denied all allegations of wrongdoing and Fagan, who has also issued a denial, has made it clear he will co-operate fully with the AFL’s inquiry.
Irrespective of those findings, this scandal before Saturday’s grand final is a reminder that those with big jobs and titles – across sport and education, corporate life and politics – need more than on-field accomplishments.
At a round table last week, a senior educator talked about the crisis in the teaching workforce, including school principals. His argument was that school heads need to be drawn from a pool of educators, not taken from law, finance and other industries.
The converse is also true.
School principals need to be judged on the culture they encourage, foster and police. They need to be well versed in education pedagogy, but just as familiar with governance and communication.
They need to foster an environment where children will flourish as young people, as well as students.
The standing of a politician routinely rises and falls on what they should know, as much as what they do know. We want strategy, but culture eats it for breakfast.
In corporate Australia, we want CEOs of our gambling institutions who understand legislation and hospitality, but also money laundering and addiction.
The same goes with those picked to sit around board tables. Indeed, we’ve seen the resignation of several of those who discovered what inquiries (and journalists) were able to unearth.
Should those same board members sit atop other public companies? And what questions did they fail to ask previously that they now see as crucial to their new roles?
In Queensland, police commissioner Katarina Carroll is under attack for a culture that has allowed senior officers to joke, laugh and ridicule domestic violence victims. That is the subject of a royal commission-type inquiry, where much of the evidence is heartbreaking.
Accountability matters too; a point made this week by New South Wales’ most senior public servant Michael Coutts-Trotter after the sacking of bureaucrat Amy Brown over the John Barilaro trade appointment saga.
Once upon a time, those with the big offices and fat pay packets earned our respect through their appointment.
They ‘deserved’ that acclaim. The school principal earned our respect. So did the bank manager, the senior public servant, the local GP and certainly, the police sergeant.
But we’ve been let down by those in senior positions. Respect has been whittled away by royal commissions that have sent politicians and financiers to jail, and inquiries that have revealed shocking examples where accountability and culture, good morale and diversity were not valued.
So if leadership is not bestowed by a title, how should it be learnt? Surely, by example. And being a good follower, along the way to leadership, must be part of that.
Just consider how much schools and universities focus on leadership.
But how much time is really put into teaching and testing those soft skills that are a pre-requisite in leadership? Or developing attributes that mean a leader is able to show empathy, and listen to others, value teamwork and provide stellar communication.
Leadership is going through a metamorphosis the world over.
Subject matter is sliding down the list on the resume of those who aspire to the big jobs.
Almost always now, the title doesn’t count as much as it once did. But when the music stops, accountability sits squarely with the title.
That is what we are seeing unfold across sport and education, business and politics.
