
Cheers to 2025
Every New Year holds promise, as though it is any different from the turn of
“Beware the barrenness of a busy life.”
— Socrates
We have built an entire mythology around exhaustion. In boardrooms and business culture — perhaps nowhere more so than in the high-pressure, always-on professional culture many of us inhabit — busyness has become a currency. To be tired is to be serious. To be overwhelmed is to be important. To be burning out, quietly, is somehow proof that you are fully committed.
It is one of the most expensive lies leadership has ever told itself.
Burnout is not a personal failing. It is not weakness, or a lack of resilience, or evidence that someone was never cut out for the work. Burnout, at its root, is a failure of energy management applied to purpose — and when a leader burns out, or allows the conditions for burnout to flourish unchallenged in their team, it is a leadership failure. Full stop.
REFRAMING THE PROBLEM
It Was Never Just About Workload
The conventional understanding of burnout focuses almost entirely on volume: too much work, too little rest, too many demands on too few hours. And while chronic overwork is certainly a component, this framing misses something critical.
Research by organisational psychologist Christina Maslach — whose work remains the most widely cited framework on burnout — identifies three dimensions that matter: exhaustion, cynicism, and a diminished sense of efficacy. Notice that only the first of these is about volume. The other two are about meaning. About the feeling that what you are doing no longer connects to something that matters. That your effort is not producing anything worth producing.

This is why a leader can work fewer hours and still burn out. And why another person can carry an enormous load and remain energised, grounded, and clear. The differentiator is not the weight of the work. It is the quality of the connection between the work and its purpose.
When a leader loses that thread — or never establishes it clearly for their team — they do not just create a workload problem. They create a meaning crisis. And a meaning crisis, sustained over time, produces burnout far more reliably than any number of late nights or demanding projects.
“Energy, not time, is the fundamental currency of high performance.”
— Jim Loehr & Tony Schwartz, The Power of Full Engagement
THE LEADER’S ROLE
How You Are Contributing to It — Even Without Knowing
This is the part most leaders resist. Because it is far more comfortable to view burnout as something that happens to people — a circumstance, an inevitability, a consequence of the pace of modern business — than to consider that you may be one of its causes.
But leadership shapes culture. And culture shapes whether people can sustainably give their best or whether they must eventually choose between their work and their wellbeing.
You model the unsustainable. If you are the first one on the thread at 5am and the last to respond at midnight, you are not just managing your own schedule. You are setting the implicit standard. People watch what leaders do far more closely than they listen to what leaders say. A wellness policy announced at an all-hands means nothing if the leadership team’s behaviour communicates that rest is a sign of reduced commitment.
You do not protect your team’s energy. Not all work is equal. Not all meetings are necessary. Not all urgency is real. A significant proportion of what exhausts teams in modern organisations is not the meaningful, difficult, purposeful work — it is the noise layered on top of it. The unnecessary reporting. The duplicated processes. The culture of responsiveness for its own sake. Leaders who do not actively clear this noise are not protecting their people’s capacity for the work that actually matters.
You confuse activity with output. When leaders reward visibility over results — when being seen to be busy carries more weight than the quality of what gets produced — they inadvertently create teams that perform busyness rather than deliver value. That performance is exhausting in a uniquely demoralising way, because it consumes energy without producing anything that feels meaningful.
You do not name the purpose clearly or often enough. Purpose is not a poster on the wall. It is the answer to the question every team member is quietly asking: Why does this work matter, and why does my contribution to it matter? When leaders cannot answer that question clearly and regularly, the work becomes a transaction — and transactions, over time, drain rather than energise.
SIGNS TO WATCH
What Burnout Looks Like Before It Becomes a Crisis
As a leader, your responsibility is to see the signals before they become crises. In yourself and in your team.
▸ In yourself: Your enthusiasm for the work has quietly flattened. You are present, but not fully. Decisions that once felt energising now feel like obligations. You have stopped being curious about what comes next.
▸ In your team: Increased errors and missed details. A rise in cynicism in casual conversation. Once-engaged contributors going quiet in meetings. Sick days clustering. High performers exploring exits.
▸ In the culture: Busyness being worn as a badge of honour. Rest being subtly coded as laziness. Conversations about wellbeing feeling performative rather than genuine.
“Almost everything will work again if you unplug it for a few minutes — including you.”
— Anne Lamott
WHAT TO DO INSTEAD
Leading Energy, Not Just Effort
Connect work to purpose explicitly and repeatedly. In every significant project, in every team conversation where the stakes feel high, name the why. Not once at an off-site — but regularly, in the ordinary moments of leadership. Purpose is not a strategy document. It is a living conversation.
Protect deep work. Give your team — and yourself — blocks of uninterrupted time for the work that actually requires thought. Not every hour needs to be accessible. Not every message requires an immediate response. Create the structural conditions for focused, meaningful work.
Rest is a leadership discipline, not a reward. The most effective leaders have learned to manage their energy as deliberately as they manage their calendar. Recovery is not what happens when the work is done. It is what makes the work sustainable. Model it. Protect it. Refuse to apologise for it.
Have the honest conversation early. If you see a team member showing signs of burnout, do not wait until they are in crisis to address it. A timely, caring, honest conversation about capacity and sustainability is one of the highest-value interventions a leader can make.
The goal of leadership is not to extract the maximum output from people until they have nothing left. It is to create the conditions in which people can bring their best — sustainably, purposefully, and over the long arc of a career.
A leader who burns out has not proven their dedication. They have demonstrated a gap in their self-leadership. A leader whose team burns out has not proven the organisation’s ambition. They have revealed the limits of their stewardship.
You cannot pour from an empty vessel. And you cannot lead people you have quietly helped to hollow out.

Every New Year holds promise, as though it is any different from the turn of

Let me confess something. Long before LinkedIn articles, podcasts, and leadership keynotes became my world, I was a teenager sneaking to the library

In an era that increasingly demands hyper-specialization, Akin Akingbogun stands out as a refreshing anomaly. He is a man who refuses to be confined to a single box.

There is a particular kind of silence that falls on a man when the phone stops ringing, the proposals go unanswered, and the diary that once groaned under the weight of appointments sits quietly — almost mockingly — open. If you have ever been there, you know it.

Let me tell you something uncomfortable: the most generous person you know — the one who volunteers every weekend, donates quietly, never asks for anything in return — is probably getting something out of it. Not money. Maybe not even recognition. But something.

Adaeze had been awake since 4 a.m.
Not because she was anxious — though she was — but because this trip felt different. After eighteen months of follow-ups, phone calls, and PowerPoint presentations polished to a mirror shine, the deal was finally ready to close. An investor meeting in Abuja. A partnership that would change the trajectory of her small but gutsy consulting firm. She had triple-checked her flight, her documents, her outfit. She had prayed. She was ready.

When he told his father, Dare’s first response was a sigh. Then: “I told you to practice more. I told you months ago. You don’t listen. You never listen.”
There was no “I’m sorry, son.” No pause to let the boy simply feel the loss of the thing he wanted. Just a swift, seamless pivot to what Temi had done wrong — and, by extension, how Temi’s failure was evidence of Temi’s failure to take his father’s wisdom seriously.

I want to tell you something that took me embarrassingly long to learn. Not because the idea is complicated — it is not. But because it cuts against something deeply wired in us, something we are rarely honest enough to admit.

You are somewhere between forty and fifty-five. You looked in the mirror recently and had a thought you immediately dismissed. Maybe you googled something at 2am that you would never say out loud. Maybe you bought something expensive and impractical and told everyone it was an investment. Or maybe you just feel — quietly, persistently — like the life you built was supposed to feel better than this by now.

Anton Chekhov was a Russian physician and playwright — a man trained in the discipline of diagnosis before he became one of the most precise storytellers in the history of world literature. That combination of sensibilities matters, because the principle he articulated in the late nineteenth century was not merely a rule of dramatic craft. It was an observation about the nature of significance itself. About what it means for something to be present. About the relationship between introduction and consequence.

There is a prison that has no concrete walls, no iron bars, no guards posted at the gate. Nobody built it for you. Nobody sentenced you to it. And yet, for many people, it is the place they spend the better part of their lives — circling its perimeter, brushing their fingers against its invisible boundaries, and quietly retreating each time they feel the edge of something that might require more of them than they believe they can give.

Picture a hand holding sand. The tighter the grip, the faster the grains escape between the fingers. Ease the grip — open the palm, allow the hand to become a vessel rather than a vice — and the sand stays. This is one of the oldest paradoxes of leadership, and one of the least learned: that control, pursued too aggressively, produces the very loss of control it was designed to prevent.

There is a version of ambition that builds. And there is a version of ambition that consumes. From a distance — and especially from inside it — they look almost identical. Both are energetic. Both are forward-moving. Both speak the language of vision and possibility. The difference only becomes visible later, usually at the point of fracture, when what was built begins to come apart under the weight of what was promised.

There is a particular kind of organisational absurdity that most people who have ever worked in a company will recognise immediately. It is the policy that was clearly designed by someone who has never had to implement it. The restructuring that looked elegant on a slide deck and chaotic on the ground. The customer-facing process that was overhauled by a committee that has not spoken to a customer in years. The directive that arrives from above, fully formed and non-negotiable, that causes the people closest to the work to exchange a look — the kind of look that says, without words: they have no idea what we actually do here.
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1 thought on “Burnout Is a Leadership Failure”
Well done, Akin.
Always a joy to read from you. Thanks for this very educative piece