When I was a kid, I remember playing a game on the beach that involved building a wall of sand to keep the rising tide on my little piece of beach at bay. At the tide slow rose and began to erode my sand barricade, I would jump from spot to spot reinforcing, pushing more sand into the gap, just in time for the next slosh of water to eat away at my line in the sand.
I often think about that memory when I think about leadership, whether it be on the line in a combat situation, or running a non-profit organisation, or the captain of a sports team, CEO of a multinational, a general in the war room, whatever… so often, one of the key functions of leadership is all about holding a line. In a number of ways we define certain kinds of boundaries through our leadership, sometimes in the form of progress made in certain areas, or conquering chaos and dysfunction in others, and then a good deal of our efforts become about holding the line, keeping the hill, repelling the enemies (direct and indirect) who desire to take back what we have gained. The attacks may be subtle and sneaky, and sometimes they may be full frontal assaults, but you spend a lot of energy motivating and cajoling your people to stand firm and hold the line.
It’s exhausting, and sometimes even feels futile. Sometimes, it’s very exciting as we progress forward rapidly and take new ground. But always, at the end of the day, there comes a line that must be held again, and in many respects, it seems to me that great leadership is defined by how well we are able to hold the line.
Perhaps, to put it another way, if you’re in a leadership role but there don’t seem to be any lines to be held with urgency, any progress to be guarded at all costs, any new territory to keep, then whatever you are doing, you’re not leading.