
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

I want to tell you something about confidence that most people get spectacularly wrong.
And I mean that without arrogance — because I got it wrong too, for longer than I care to admit. I walked into rooms with my chest out and my chin up and told myself that was confidence. I practiced certain expressions in the mirror before big presentations. I rehearsed answers to imagined tough questions in the shower until the water ran cold.
I looked confident. I performed confidence quite convincingly, if I do say so myself.

There is a conversation you have been postponing.
You know the one. It has been living rent-free in the back of your head for days, possibly weeks. You have rehearsed it in the shower. You have drafted opening lines in your head while stuck on the Third Mainland Bridge. You have imagined seventeen different versions of how it could go, and approximately sixteen of them ended badly.
So you have said nothing. You have smiled when you did not feel like smiling, agreed when you wanted to disagree, and quietly let something important fester because the alternative — the actual conversation — felt like detonating a device in a room you still have to live in.

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.

Let me take you somewhere. Not to the bottom of the Atlantic Ocean — at least, not yet. First, to Lagos. Nigeria. Sometime in the late 1980s. A teenager who should probably have been revising for exams is instead sitting cross-legged on the floor of a library, holding a book that is older than most of the furniture around it, reading about a city beneath the sea.

This is my story of discovering a film that challenged everything I thought I knew about the gift of time, every pulsating detail documented to inspire you to leap beyond your limitations and appreciate the beauty of growing old.
This story explores the paradox of immortality and why a movie from 2015 still resonates so deeply with audiences today.
I hope you find it worth your time.

This is my story, every pulsating detail documented to inspire you to question what you know and leap beyond your limitations.
This story is about the audacity of belief, the power of a well-told lie, and the journey to unlearn the things that poisoned my teenage mind.
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.

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.
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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