We Don’t Have a Knowledge Problem. We Have a Behaviour Problem.

What I was taught about leadership worked. And that’s exactly the problem.

There are things I was taught as a leader that I now look back on very differently.

Not because they didn’t work.
But because they did.

Over the course of my career, I was trained, mentored, and shaped within leadership systems that were considered not only effective, but best practice. These were not fringe ideas or outdated approaches. They were widely accepted, reinforced, and, in many cases, rewarded.

One of those lessons was simple, and widely accepted:

you manage them up or you manage them out.

It was presented as a balanced, even compassionate approach to leadership. If someone was performing well, you invested in their growth. If they were struggling, you supported them. And if, over time, it became clear that they were no longer aligned with the role or the organisation, you helped them find something that was a better fit.

I believed in that. I practised it.

I spent time helping people refine their CVs. I introduced them to my network. I spoke positively about their potential and positioned them for opportunities beyond the organisation. I framed their departure not as a failure, but as a step forward, something that reflected growth rather than loss.

And I was told, more than once, that this made me a good leader. A supportive one. Someone who cared about people.

At the time, I agreed.

But what I did not fully understand was the power embedded in that approach. I did not question the underlying assumption that sat quietly beneath it, which was that I, as a leader, could determine when someone no longer belonged.

That decision was rarely framed in those terms. It was softened through language about “fit” or “readiness” or “alignment.” It was positioned as pragmatic, even necessary. And because it was so normalised, it did not feel like exclusion.

It felt like leadership.

There is another memory that has stayed with me, and over time, it has taken on a very different meaning.

In leadership meetings, there was a moment that never appeared on the formal agenda. It was not documented, and it was not recorded in any official way. But it happened consistently enough that it became part of how decisions were made.

At a certain point in the meeting, names would be written on a whiteboard.

There was no context given, because none was needed. Everyone in the room understood what those names represented. These were individuals who were on performance improvement plans.

What followed was not a conversation about how to support those individuals back into the team, or how to create the conditions for them to succeed. It was a discussion focused on how to manage them out. Efficiently, quietly, and in a way that minimised disruption.

At the time, I did not challenge it. It was presented as part of effective leadership practice, and like many others in the room, I accepted it as such.

It was only much later, after I had left that organisation under an NDA, that I found myself reflecting on those moments with a different lens. And with that reflection came a question I had never considered before:

When did my name go up on the board?

This is where many organisations get stuck. We assume that if leaders understand how they should lead, their behaviour will follow. So we invest in training, in frameworks, in awareness. And when behaviour doesn’t change, we assume we need more of the same.

But what if the issue was never a lack of understanding in the first place?

Most leaders I have worked with are not lacking knowledge. They can articulate what good leadership looks like. They understand the language. They know what is expected of them, at least in theory.

And yet, the behaviours that shape people’s day-to-day experiences, how decisions are made, how performance is judged, how belonging is granted or withdrawn, often remain unchanged.

This is not a failure of understanding. It is a failure of alignment between what is said to matter and what is actually measured, reinforced, and rewarded.

What often goes unexamined in moments like this is the cost. Not in abstract terms, but in performance.

When leadership behaviour signals that people are expendable, that belonging is conditional, and that decisions about who stays and who goes are made without transparency, something shifts in the organisation.

Not always visibly. Not immediately.

But it shows up.

It shows up in how much people are willing to give beyond what is required.

In organisations where leadership behaviour builds trust and clarity, discretionary effort can increase by as much as 15%. That is value that already exists within your workforce, waiting to be unlocked.

And the reverse is also true.

When leadership behaviour creates uncertainty, or signals that people can be quietly moved out rather than developed, that discretionary effort is withheld. Not as an act of resistance, but as a rational response to the environment people are operating in.

The same patterns affect how decisions are made, how quickly teams align, and whether people feel able to contribute fully. They influence retention, not just in who leaves, but in who stays and disengages. They shape how organisations respond to change, and whether they are able to capture new opportunities or simply maintain the status quo.

These are not cultural issues. They are performance outcomes.

It is data, and data is telling you something that deserves attention.

If we are serious about changing leadership outcomes, we have to move beyond awareness.

We have to make behaviour visible.

Observable. Discussed. Measured. And tied to performance.

Because leaders do not change because they have been trained. They change because the way they lead is seen, and because it matters.

I do not share these reflections as a critique of individual leaders. I share them because I recognise myself in them. I did what I was taught. I operated within systems that I trusted, systems that were designed to produce results.

For a long time, I did not question whether those systems were producing the outcomes we claimed to value.

That is the work now.

Not simply to increase awareness, but to examine behaviour. To look honestly at how leadership shows up in practice, and to take responsibility for the impact that has on others.

We do not need perfect leaders. But we do need leaders who are willing to engage with that question, even when it is uncomfortable.

Especially when it is uncomfortable.