Leadership is knowing when not to lead and when to step back

Even a good 15 years after retiring from active professional life, I often find myself yearning for the kind of action I enjoyed while I was in the thick of things. This is not an uncommon feeling, especially among people in the evening of their lives. Strangely enough, however, it is something that affects even much younger people in different walks of life.

In 1977, I was Secretary to the Governor of the undivided Andhra Pradesh. Sharda Mukherjee, the wife of the first Indian Chief of Air Staff, was then the Governor. That year, a super cyclone of unprecedented intensity lashed the coastal districts of Krishna and Guntur, triggering a massive tidal wave that, within minutes, razed several villages to the ground and claimed thousands of lives.

The state government launched relief and rehabilitation operations on a massive scale and, as always, many reputed NGOs and public-spirited individuals joined the effort.

At the time, the Janata Party had just assumed power at the Centre and was inimical to Congress (I), which was in office in the state.

The Governor grew suspicious of the bona fides of the state government and began to toy with the idea of taking over the conduct of post-cyclone operations from the Raj Bhavan. I grew nervous and briefed the Chief Secretary about the situation.

Imagine my shock when, soon thereafter, one early morning, I received a call on the secret phone from Vengala Rao, the then Chief Minister. He gave me a proper dressing down, reminding me that there was a constitutionally elected government in the state and that the Governor had no business interfering in such matters.

Receiving such a tongue lashing from a normally soft spoken person, who was also well disposed towards me, upset me so much that I rushed to meet the Principal Secretary to the Chief Minister, Krishnaswamy Rao Saheb, who laughed and said, “Mohan, it took us two days to prime the Chief Minister to speak to you like that!”

I took the hint. Soon thereafter, I was able to persuade the Governor to leave matters in the capable hands of the state government and to content herself with presiding over a high-level committee that reviewed developments from an arm’s length.

Somewhat similar experiences marked my interactions with certain Chief Ministers during my career. One, in particular, was addicted to micromanagement to such an extent that it resulted in total inaction at all levels below him.

Thanks to his attitude, even the lowest functionary looked up to the government for guidance on the most trivial of matters. Unsurprisingly, the system came close to collapse. Eventually, the inevitable occurred and the government fell.

Micromanagement has many drawbacks, unlike a well-defined macro model that fosters ownership, develops talent and drives sustainable, long-term success. While intervention, even by way of exception, may solve a problem quickly, it creates dependency, damages morale and restricts organisational growth.

Many outstanding leaders in history rose to greatness precisely because they understood the pitfalls of micromanagement. They recognised that it destroys autonomy, a critical element of job satisfaction. It also creates an atmosphere of mistrust, cramps style, stifles creativity and lowers morale. Constant surveillance induces burnout and often creates a toxic environment.

Great leaders distinguish themselves not by doing everything, but by trusting their teams to act. They resist the temptation to intervene directly, choosing instead to provide guidance, resources and trust.

This approach fosters ownership, builds capability and enables long-term success. While intervening might solve a problem quickly, it creates dependency, damages team morale, and restricts organizational growth.

Nelson Mandela, South Africa’s first President, consciously chose to be the last to offer his opinion in meetings. This allowed others to speak freely, encouraged diverse perspectives and reinforced trust in collective decision-making.

Similarly, during the American Civil War, Abraham Lincoln faced immense pressure to dictate military strategy. Instead, he relied on his Cabinet and generals, focusing on ensuring they had the support they needed rather than micromanaging operations, which allowed his team to handle the crisis.

A more recent example is Warren Buffett, who exemplifies a hands-off (laissez-faire) leadership approach. He hires capable managers and grants them wide autonomy to run their companies, stepping in only to provide capital or strategic direction when absolutely necessary.

Even Steve Jobs—despite his reputation for perfectionism—evolved over time. In his later years at Apple, he empowered teams to take risks and make mistakes. As he famously said, “It doesn’t make sense to hire smart people and then tell them what to do; we hire smart people so that they can tell us what to do.”

To end on a lighter note, here is a story, probably apocryphal. In 1937, Sir Akbar Hydari was travelling to Hyderabad to assume office as Prime Minister of the then Hyderabad State. The railway was owned by the Nizam’s government, and at a wayside station, the local Tahsildar boarded the train and entered the same compartment as Sir Akbar.

To Sir Akbar’s amazement, an endless procession of dishes, a veritable feast, was laid out, evidently meant for the Tahsildar’s lunch. As he was about to begin, the official graciously invited Sir Akbar to join him.

When Sir Akbar declined, saying he had already eaten, the Tahsildar smiled indulgently and said, “I am the Tahsildar of this place. I am not accustomed to eating without company. So please join me.”

Left with no choice, Sir Akbar partook of the lavish spread.

On arrival at Nampally Railway Station in Hyderabad, the Tahsildar was astonished to see a crowd of dignitaries on the platform, holding garlands and bouquets. As Sir Akbar alighted, he was warmly received and profusely garlanded. Somewhat chastened by what he saw the official slunk off quietly.

Soon after assuming office, Sir Akbar summoned the Tahsildar and invited him to dinner, an elegant act of tit for tat. Such were the graces and finesse that once characterised public relationships. When asked what his first act as Prime Minister would be, Sir Akbar is said to have replied with a mischievous smile, “I shall appoint myself a Tahsildar!”

(The writer was formerly Chief Secretary, Government of Andhra Pradesh)