Why are so many leaders dreadful?

While the bosses who prevail over regressive working environments will always exist, these troubled times are conspiring to demand better, writes Caroline Bullock

Trouble at the top: the qualities pertaining to good leadership are a rare and precious thing (Getty/iStock)

In his new book, Corruptible: Who Gets Power and How it Changes Us, academic Brian Klass has a simple question: “Why are so many leaders dreadful?”

I’m curious, too, having experienced first-hand the sorry mix of obsessive hierarchy, cliques and rudeness that can manifest when authority is warped by ego, insecurity, and the accumulated detritus of life’s dissatisfactions.

Revealing that psychopaths are far more common in the boardroom than in the population at large, Klass seeks to establish whether some leaders are natural bullies or if power itself corrupts them. For me, however, it prompts another seminal question: in a post-pandemic workplace, where we are seeing a shake-up of the foundations that have long supported more oppressive working cultures, can bad bosses survive anyway?

Certainly, their predilection for layers and hierarchy – to ram home the gulf between themselves at the top and those several rungs below – is under threat. Classic organisational management structure, with a focus on silos and visible chains of command, is crumbling fast as the workforce becomes ever more dispersed through remote and hybrid working. As such, the easy, visible control of having everyone in one place is diminished, along with many of the on-premises rituals that can anchor the pecking order – from the prime window seat to exemption from the drudge of the tea round.

Furthermore, commentators agree that bosses will have to be nicer to survive. According to Deloitte, organisational success amid the disruption and the blurring of personal and professional boundaries of the past couple of years will demand a “new style of supportive leadership”. Grant Thornton’s 2021 International Business Report concurs, predicting that a “significant and long-term shift” in management style is needed in order to establish an inclusive and collaborative approach in which “people feel safe to contribute ideas”.

All of which would be total anathema to some of the characters with whom I’ve shared floorspace, and is still probably long overdue in many office environments. While being a bad boss may not always be on a par with the abuses of power that grab the headlines or break the law, the effects can be insidious and long-lasting.

I experienced the best and worst of leadership early in my career, in what could be classed as my first proper job – a reminder that, a bit like the teachers you remember for either their bullying or their inspirational brilliance, those calling the shots at work tend to be just as polarising.

An old editor of mine had many of the qualities of an effective leader: recognising the strengths and efforts of the team delivering week in, week out; seeing human beings beyond their function and pay cheque; perhaps even caring a little. Firm but always fair, he found humour easily, had gravitas when needed, and gave praise when due – an effective and motivating formula that always got the best out of people, because they liked and respected him.

By contrast, his belittling second-in-command adopted a two-tier approach to all workplace interactions: animated joie de vivre within her peer group, and terse exasperation for junior staff, whose main crime, it seemed, was to be new and much younger.

‘Divide and rule’ defined the approach of another manager, whose ego and self-importance might have befitted someone running the country, not a struggling local rag

It soon became clear why she liked to have a few favourites. Being hostile across the board wasn’t so much fun. The pleasure came in establishing divisions and inconsistencies – in singling out a chosen few for praise, despite a collective effort, and precluding others from the most basic courtesies. I still look back on this time with regret that I tolerated something so ridiculous, but then bullies know what they’re doing and how to slyly cultivate a culture in which their warped games can fester with little intervention.

While time and hindsight confirm the relatively parochial scope of this particular world, at one point, namely the start of a career, it mattered – which meant that any boat-rocking retaliation was unlikely, and such behaviour could thrive unchecked.

‘Divide and rule’ defined the approach of another manager, whose ego and self-importance might have befitted someone running the country, not a struggling local rag. Best described as hands-off and remote, she would arrive between 10 and 11 each morning, with her secretary trailing behind. She would fail to acknowledge the troops already in situ and retreat to her own room, with a slam of the door that would prompt the usual flurry of snide remarks from a workforce that felt unappreciated.

The disrespect was entirely mutual. Save for the odd tantrum she managed herself, she would leave her deputy to handle all day-to-day dealings with the wider team, meaning that her rare emergence from her bolthole always brought an uneasy tension – which was no doubt the intention.

There are two other examples worth adding to the mix: those who take the helm after falling from supposedly loftier heights, and let bitterness and sarcasm seep into most of their dealings; and those whose ego has been stroked for too long in the hallowed bubble of head office. While the latter can seem personable enough, they remain woefully out of touch with (and deluded about) the challenges and priorities of those in the lower echelons of the business.

It’s evident in the programme Undercover Boss, which sees CEOs pose as junior staff in a bid to obtain a fuller perspective on the realities of the frontline areas of the business. As well as their inevitable surprise at the often trying conditions staff face on the ground, the ploy of adopting an elaborate physical disguise is telling: it suggests a presumption that Bob on reception will recognise them, when he probably wouldn’t know them from Adam.

This lack of self-awareness was evident at a global outsourcing business, where I was tasked with writing the communication material sent out on behalf of the CEO across the wider organisation. Much time was devoted to the process, because a lot of what I did was rewritten in a manner that shifted the emphasis onto the man himself rather than the company, its aims and vision. He would procrastinate for days over the inclusion of certain jokes and football references, the aim being to position himself as an approachable man of the people.

After the copy had undergone a lengthy approval process, a series of teaser emails would be sent as a countdown to the material being delivered to the various offices, followed by an online survey asking people for their feedback. Yet the sense of expectation simmering in head office over this quarterly sermon didn’t appear to reach those on the periphery. My occasional visit to some of the outer offices revealed piles of unopened boxes full of these newsletters, cluttering up the already tatty portacabins.

While we may never be entirely rid of the sorts of bosses who prevail over regressive working environments that function and deliver with low morale – and a higher churn rate – these troubled times are conspiring to demand better. And that can only be a good thing.