
Cheers to 2025
Every New Year holds promise, as though it is any different from the turn of
“The higher a monkey climbs, the more you see of its behind.”
— General Joseph Stilwell
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.
This is the Frontline Disconnect — and unlike some leadership failures that are rare or context-specific, this one is extraordinarily common. It grows quietly and almost inevitably from the structure of seniority itself. The higher a leader rises, the further they travel — physically, relationally, informationally — from the place where the work actually happens. And if they are not deliberate about closing that distance, the gap fills with assumptions, with filtered reports, and with the dangerous comfort of believing that what is true at the top is also true at the bottom.
It is one thing for a leader not to know the details of every operational function. That is normal, even appropriate — leadership requires elevation of perspective. It is another thing entirely for a leader to be so insulated from operational reality that the decisions they make, with full confidence and good intention, systematically fail the people who must carry them out.
WHAT DISCONNECTION LOOKS LIKE
The Gap Between the Report and the Reality
Information in organisations does not travel neutrally. By the time reality reaches the senior leadership table, it has typically passed through several layers of interpretation, softening, and editorial judgment. The team lead who knows the system is broken tells the manager something is “a bit slow.” The manager tells the director there are “a few process challenges.” The director tells the executive team there are “some operational optimisation opportunities.” The executive team nods and moves on.
At no point did anyone lie. And yet the executive team now has a version of reality that bears almost no resemblance to what the frontline team experiences every single day. This is not a failure of honesty. It is a failure of proximity. And it is the leader’s responsibility to close it — not the organisation’s responsibility to find better ways of managing upward.

Disconnected leaders typically share a recognisable set of tendencies. They make decisions based primarily on dashboards, decks, and direct reports — rarely from direct observation. They have not spent meaningful time in the spaces where their decisions are actually executed — the customer service floor, the distribution warehouse, the branch office, the project site — in months, sometimes years. They believe their view from above gives them clarity, when in truth it gives them altitude without texture. And when their decisions create friction on the ground, their instinct is to question the execution rather than examine the decision.
“Management by walking around is not a technique. It is a philosophy of presence that signals to every person in the organisation that what they do, and how they do it, is worth understanding.”
— Tom Peters
HOW TO IDENTIFY THIS AS A LEADER
Questions Worth Asking Yourself Honestly
The Frontline Disconnect is particularly hard to self-diagnose because seniority tends to come with a steady supply of confirmation. People brief you. People update you. People tell you, regularly, what is going well. The question is whether you have built the conditions to also hear what is not.
▸ When last did you spend unstructured time — not a staged visit, not a formal review — with the people closest to your customers or your core operations?
▸ Can you name three specific friction points that your frontline team encounters regularly? Not from a report — from a conversation you personally had?
▸ When a decision you made did not land as intended, what was your first instinct: to examine the decision, or to question the implementation?
▸ Do the people on your team feel genuinely comfortable telling you when something from above is not working? And how do you know — did you ask them, or did you assume?
▸ When you walk into an operational space, do people adjust their behaviour? If they do, you are seeing performance, not reality.
These are not rhetorical questions. They are diagnostics. And if your honest answers reveal that your understanding of the organisation’s operational reality is largely secondhand, that is not a reason for shame. It is a reason for action.
HOW TO IDENTIFY THIS AS A FOLLOWER
When You Are Living in the Gap
If you are on the receiving end of a leadership team that has become disconnected from the frontline, the experience has a particular texture. It is not always dramatic. It often feels mundane and quietly demoralising.
▸ Decisions arrive that seem to solve problems nobody on your level actually has, while the problems you actually have go unaddressed.
▸ When you raise operational concerns, the response is theoretical — solutions proposed by people who do not fully understand the constraint.
▸ Leadership visits feel staged and ceremonial, disconnected from the daily reality of the work.
▸ There is a vocabulary gap: senior leadership talks about the business in language that barely resembles how it is described by the people doing it.
▸ Workarounds become normalised — unofficial systems developed by frontline teams to compensate for policies that do not fit how the work actually flows.
That last point deserves particular attention. When a team has quietly built a parallel system to work around an official policy, it is not a sign of insubordination. It is a distress signal. It means the gap between what leadership decided and what operational reality requires has grown wide enough that people have had to engineer their own bridge. And the fact that it is quiet — that nobody brought it to leadership’s attention — tells you something important about the culture of upward communication.
“Your most unhappy customers are your greatest source of learning.”
— Bill Gates
What Gates understood about customers applies with equal force to frontline teams. The people closest to the friction are your most valuable intelligence asset. The question is whether you have built the kind of relationship — and the kind of culture — that allows that intelligence to reach you.
WHAT IT COSTS
The Price of the Gap
Decisions that are technically correct but operationally unworkable. A strategy that ignores the reality of implementation is not a strategy. It is a wish. When leaders are insulated from how the work actually gets done, they design solutions for a version of their organisation that exists only in their mental model — and then wonder why results diverge from the projection.
Eroded trust and disengagement. Frontline teams are perceptive. When they repeatedly see decisions made without regard for operational reality, they stop investing in the process of upward feedback. Why surface the problem if the people at the top are not close enough to the ground to understand it? Over time, this produces a workforce that has quietly opted out of the leadership conversation — present in body, checked out in contribution.
Innovation that never travels upward. Some of the best ideas in any organisation live on the frontline. The customer service representative who has noticed a pattern. The technician who has found a better method. The junior team member who can see an inefficiency that has become invisible to everyone who has been too far above it for too long. Disconnected leaders do not hear these ideas. They are not inaccessible because the people won’t share — they are inaccessible because the leader has not created the proximity required for sharing to feel safe or worthwhile.
CLOSING THE GAP
How to Lead with Proximity
Make presence a practice, not a performance. There is a difference between a leader who visits the frontline and a leader who is present on the frontline. Visits can be managed. Presence cannot. Scheduled walkthroughs produce curated experiences. Unannounced, informal, and genuinely curious engagement produces truth. Build it into your rhythm — not as an event, but as a habit.
Create direct lines to unfiltered intelligence. Complement your formal reporting structures with informal channels that give you direct access to ground-level reality. Skip-level conversations. Anonymous feedback mechanisms. Regular informal check-ins with people at different layers of the organisation. Not to bypass your direct reports — but to triangulate. The goal is a fuller picture, not a flatter hierarchy.
Separate listening from deciding. When you go to the frontline, go to understand — not to fix, not to judge, not to announce. Leaders who arrive with answers prevent the people closest to the work from sharing the full truth of the question. Ask more than you speak. Sit with what you hear before you act on it.
Interrogate your own decisions for operational fit. Before any significant decision is finalised, build in a structured step: who has reviewed this from the implementation side? Not just the strategy team. Not just the finance function. The people who will actually carry this out. Their input is not a courtesy — it is a quality check. A decision that cannot survive contact with the people who must execute it is not yet a good decision.
Reward the messenger. In organisations where leaders are disconnected, bad news tends to travel slowly or not at all. The culture has taught people that surfacing problems is costly. Reverse that signal. Publicly and privately acknowledge the team members who bring you difficult truths early. Make it visible that in your organisation, honest intelligence is valued more than comfortable silence.
“If you want to understand how a lion hunts, don’t go to the zoo. Go to the jungle.”
— Jim Leighton
The view from the top is wide. But width without depth is just panorama. The leaders who build organisations that endure are the ones who refuse to let altitude become distance — who stay close enough to the ground to hear what the work is actually asking of the people doing it.
Your reports will tell you the business is performing. Your dashboards will confirm it. But only proximity — real, sustained, humble proximity to the frontline — will tell you whether the performance is real, whether the people are well, and whether the decisions you are making in the conference room are making any sense at all on the ground.
The jungle always knows more than the zoo. Go to the jungle.

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

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I hope you find it worth your time.

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I hope you find it worth your time.

There is a category of question that polite intellectual company tends to avoid: the kind that, if you pull the thread long enough, begins to unravel not just a specific mystery but the entire fabric of what we think we know about human history. The Pyramids of Giza are that thread. They have been standing in the Egyptian desert for roughly 4,500 years.

There is a peculiar kind of madness that does not arrive with hallucinations or trembling hands. It arrives quietly. At two in the morning. In a small desert town in New Mexico. It sounds like an idling diesel engine somewhere in the distance — except there is no engine. It sounds like a bass note being held by an invisible orchestra — except there is no orchestra.

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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.

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1 thought on “The Frontline Disconnect”
Very well articulated. In few places I’ve been, your analyses and explanations have been super spot on.
Well done, Akin!