We get the leaders we deserve.

Partly because we accept as unstated fact that we need leaders.

The people who think it’s important that someone is in charge, are, oddly enough, the ones in charge. The rest of us aren’t so bothered, so we aren’t. And consequently we don’t get to push the point that maybe it’s OK to have less leadership, because we aren’t responsible for the conversation.

For some years now, I’ve been quite visible online.

It was accidental, really, but it has its uses, so I keep it up. And here’s this blog to add to the footprint.

When you have an audience, even a small one, and others know you do, there’s a subtle difference in how you’re treated. They’re more careful in certain cases. Think of how companies bend over backwards for influencers and celebrities – even just a tiny bit of visibility makes a difference at the margin. Nobody wants bad publicity, and if they suspect you might be able to cause some, they’ll avoid it. And when you want something positive, it’s useful to be able to start the word spreading.

But there’s an assumption we bump up against: that the only reason anyone would want an audience is to lead them in some way. Make use of them. Tell them to do things. Monetise them.

Look at social media, and everybody is judged by the number of followers they have. More followers equals more influence, and influence is what it’s all about. Leading. People jostle to be the person at the front, the one everybody is listening to, not part of the crowd.

I read a newspaper opinion piece bemoaning the low status of teachers, saying they earn less than, say, engineers.

In the comments, an engineer pointed out that he was as highly qualified as was possible in the UK, yet didn’t earn close to what the article had assumed. The only way of earning that much, he said, was moving into management and not doing the actual engineering. Which is what teachers also complain of, and many other jobs and professions: the higher salaries are not for doing the work, but leading. Managing others doing the work.

A few oddities aside, like sports, almost every career is better paid when you don’t do the thing itself but tell others to do it.

Politics is broken. We all know it, we all tell each other it is. We read it and hear it – politics is broken.

We look at those in government, and those trying to get to be in government, and don’t we shake our heads? Is there anyone who stands a chance of leading that we’d actually be pleased to see in charge? I can’t remember when that was last close to true.

But we’re part of a vicious circle, where we pour scorn on politicians and government, and assume they’re all terrible people, and bemoan the compensation they get … until the inevitable result is that anyone sensible and public-spirited doesn’t want to be anywhere near the whole circus. The only people left in the running are the clowns and power-hungry.

And the choices we have left are the people convinced they can lead us out of the mess. Convinced that leadership is more essential than ever, and will make the difference that actually focusing on doing the work won’t.

So all the conversation is about what they promise, what they’re like, how one measures up against the other for leadership. Never about whether leadership is actually the answer at all.

“Bullies” in this post title is too strong a word. It’s playing the leadership game, where I grab attention so I can use it for something.

It has a point, though. Bullies are people who push other people, get their way at others’ expense. And without realising that’s what it is, people who are OK with that are the ones who rise to the top. Because unless you think it’s important that others do what you say, you won’t want to be a leader. If using a derogatory term gets anyone to think again about the relative value of the people doing things rather than deciding, then it’s worth it.

It seems to me we have a leadership logjam. We’re so focused on leaders that we’re not getting the things done that we should. It takes doers for that.

I don’t have any answers for this. I’m not leading on a path away from leadership.

But it feels important that at least in my small way I demonstrate an alternative, and speak up for it when I can. Stand up for not standing up. Advocate for being equivocal.

Discuss rather than instruct, share thoughts instead of lead. Raise issues. Just talk.

Deliberately, publicly, stay small. Share why I’m OK not climbing the corporate greasy pole, not going for a high-powered job (or any job), why it’s deliberate that I do only as much work as two of us can handle, and have no intention of employing and growing a bigger business. Say that, even as I make use of social media, I avoid playing the game of getting bigger and more influential.

Because it’s odd to do that, isn’t it? Why talk publicly at all if it’s to say how deliberately uninfluential it is?

Well, because too many of us, who are contented and don’t feel the need of leadership, leave the public conversation to those who DO want to influence us. If we don’t speak, we give the floor to them by default, and I think that’s bad for all of us.