This Is Where Leaders Lose Credibility

When distance, silence, and caution reveal who will really be protected

I wanted to write about a very specific moment in this piece. And it’s the moment when a leader loses credibility fast. It’s not irrecoverable. It’s certainly repairable, and can even become a moment for growth. But it matters because it is the moment when someone realises: ‘you are not the ally I thought you were’.

It happens so quickly, so I want to slow it down for you. It might be something that’s said in passing, or sometimes through hesitation or a struggle to find the words. Often, through what’s not said, or when responses come with words that sound official or not naturally theirs. Here are some moments of things I’ve heard leadership say to bring this to life:

“We can’t respond to every moment”
“We need to stick to our core business”
“We have to be careful not to alienate people”
“I’m not sure it’s my job as a leader to stand up to the far right”

The Moment It Shifts

On the surface, they all sound measured, reasonable, even responsible. But the reality is that they land very differently for the people already carrying the implications in their bodies, relationships, and sense of safety. That is the moment I want to explore here. Because for the person hearing it, something shifts. Shifts in safety, a pang of disappointment hits, and trust thins. To many, nothing of note happened, but for those of us on higher alert, it reveals: you do not understand what this moment is asking of you, and you may not have my back in the way I thought you did.

I have written before about the ways systems protect themselves, about integrity gaps and the different realities they create, and about the myth of political neutrality at work. What I want to name here is something more specific. There are moments when leaders’ reactions undermine, or at the very least call into question, their credibility in anti-racism or anti-oppression work.

I do not think leaders intend for this, and I actually think some would be mortified to learn that this is the experience of those moments. I share these reflections with loving-kindness because I believe that understanding them will help facilitate more considered, sensitive and reflective responses. Because many are far less aware than they need to be of what they centre in these moments.

Faced with rising fear, hostility, or harm, they often move quickly and intuitively towards themselves, the organisation, or the comfort of the wider group, rather than towards those most impacted. They centre whether they feel confident or brave enough to speak and what the cost of speaking out will cost them. They consider whether the organisation can manage the risk of saying something clear and how that will be received by others. They centre on whether others might feel alienated, misunderstood, or unfairly judged. They worry whether it might spotlight them when they’d prefer to blend into the crowd. They centre optics, cohesion, tone, reputation, and process. I’ve sat in conversations around these things quietly listening and waiting for the moment when the people most at risk will enter the long list of reasons why not, and so often they don’t.

A Hierarchy of Concern

What gets revealed in that moment is a hierarchy of concern. I often speak about belonging as the act of widening the circle of concern. Here we see who is in that circle and who is not in these moments. So whilst the leader may believe they are being thoughtful, balanced, or responsible, what is felt on the other side is hardcore ‘othering’. That is why the moment lands so sharply.

And once that has been seen, it is hard to unsee. Because credibility in anti-racism or anti-oppression work is not built through strategy documents, statements or carefully worded commitments. It is built in the moments when racism becomes harder to name, riskier to confront, and less convenient to respond to. It is built when the conditions outside are already reorganising safety, trust, and belonging inside the organisation, and leaders have to decide whether they still recognise that as part of their leadership terrain.

What many are experiencing in organisations in these last couple of years are the limits of solidarity. The person listening experiences this instinct to protect calm before people and the organisation’s comfort before the dignity of those most affected as a moment of betrayal. That is a painful realisation, especially when it comes from people who have spoken the language of equity, inclusion, or justice in other settings. And no amount of rationalising as to why it cannot be different can be reassuring because who matters and who doesn’t has been made clear at a cellular level. The room no longer feels the same. The meaning of belonging changes. Trust becomes more conditional. And anti-racism work is now heard differently. More thinly. More sceptically. More as something the organisation can afford to care about, only when the conditions are favourable.

From Rupture to Repair

If there is a way through this, I think it starts there. With leaders becoming more aware of what they centre under pressure. With a greater willingness to move towards, rather than away from, those most impacted. With more visible anti-racist leadership, more transparency, more support, and more honesty about the discomfort these moments bring. None of that guarantees a perfect response - it’s unfair for anyone to expect this. But it does make a different response and solution possible. One that does less harm. One that gives people more reason to believe that the language of equity, justice, and belonging can still hold when conditions get harder, which they will. One where we can work together to figure things out.