Longing for leadership

"Leadership is earned. It’s sweat equity. It’s quiet consistency. It’s showing people how to behave without ever having to say a word."

You can always tell a real leader by where they stand when things go wrong. Not in the boardroom. Not behind a podium. But right there: in the dust, the chaos, the silence after something’s gone sideways. That’s the moment that separates those who wear the title from those who carry the weight.

And let’s be honest: the world isn’t exactly bursting with leadership right now. In politics, charisma has replaced character and polls matter more than principles. You don’t see it in the headlines, where it’s all about optics, angles, and algorithms. But the real tragedy? You don’t see it much where it’s needed most. Here, in this industry.

Leadership isn’t complicated. It’s not academic. It’s not something you learn in a course titled “Strategic Influence Dynamics” or “Transformational Management Frameworks”. Leadership is simple. It’s showing up. It’s doing the hard yards first. It’s setting the tone with your actions long before you ever open your mouth. It's walking onto a site and getting your boots dirty, not just shaking hands and posing for a newsletter photo.

In this industry, people don’t follow a title. They follow trust. They follow proof. You can’t bluff your way through in demolition and construction. Workers will spot a fake a mile off. And that’s what makes this industry such a crucible for true leadership. It exposes weakness and ego and entitlement quicker than any management seminar ever could.

The best leaders I’ve known didn’t wear tailored suits or spout mission statements. They were the ones who stayed late to help fix a busted breaker. The ones who checked on the youngest guy on site just to ask, “You alright, mate?” The ones who took the fall for mistakes they didn’t make: because that’s what leadership is. Taking the blame, sharing the credit, and never, ever looking down on your crew.

Real leaders are often forged in adversity. That’s the birthplace of grit, of loyalty, of instinct. When it all hits the fan, when the weather’s turned, the job’s behind, and the client’s on your back; that’s when a leader either emerges or evaporates. And right now, especially in demolition and construction, we don’t need more decision-makers. We need people who’ve been through the worst and still come out swinging.

The problem is, we’ve allowed leadership to become a game of politics. Of fast-tracked promotions and empty qualifications. We’ve put more value on who you know than what you’ve endured. And as a result, we’ve got people managing projects who’ve never been part of a team that struggled. Who’ve never had to rebuild morale from the bottom up. Who’ve never had to make a hard call with everything on the line.

That’s why the crews don’t trust those at the top. That’s why morale slips. That’s why burnout and resentment spread like mould. Because no one wants to follow someone who hasn’t bled with them.

Now step back for a second. Zoom out. Look at the political world. Can you name a leader - just one - who stands up and says the hard thing because it’s right, not because it’s popular? Can you name one who listens more than they talk? Who leads without needing to dominate the headlines? It's a wasteland up there; populated by people who mistake being loud for being brave.

And that same disease has trickled down into our industries. We’re told to accept that the new generation of “leaders” doesn’t have to prove themselves. That their digital skills, their networking, their LinkedIn posts are the future. Well, let me tell you something: you can’t network your way through a structural collapse. You can’t post your way out of a safety breach. You lead with your presence, your values, your scars.

Leadership is earned. It’s sweat equity. It’s quiet consistency. It’s showing people how to behave without ever having to say a word.

You know where you do still see real leadership? On the pitch. In football. Not always in the captain’s armband; but in the players who rally when their team is two-nil down and the crowd’s gone quiet. In the ones who chase a hopeless ball in the 89th minute just to keep the fire alive. The leader in a football team isn’t always the star. He’s the heartbeat. The one whose effort sets the standard. The one who demands more; not through shouting, but through doing.

In demolition, as in football, you need strikers; people who get results. But without a leader in the middle of the field holding it all together, pushing people on, calling out nonsense, calming things down, you’re going nowhere. Every site, every crew, every job needs that person. And we’re not producing enough of them.

We’re not cultivating them because we’ve confused leadership with authority. And there’s a world of difference. Authority is given. Leadership is earned. It’s sweat equity. It’s quiet consistency. It’s showing people how to behave without ever having to say a word.

We need to stop waiting for the perfect leader to show up in a suit or a slogan. The best leaders are already among us. They’re just overlooked. They’re on the tools. They’re in the welfare unit at 6am, getting ready for another punishing day. They’re tired, they’re fed up, but they’re still there. Still showing up. Still looking after the ones around them.

We need to find those people. Listen to them. Learn from them. And maybe, just maybe, put them in charge.

Because if we keep mistaking volume for vision, and charisma for character, then we’ll keep losing the soul of this industry. And of society at large.

So here’s my call, for what it’s worth: if you’re someone who leads by example, who steps forward in adversity, who understands the power of effort over ego, then stand tall. We need you. This industry needs you. The world needs you. Not tomorrow. Not someday. Now.