Job hunting has become a major headache, and I blame the AFL

While applying for jobs recently, I noticed a recurring theme: almost every advertised position required “leadership abilities”. Not just for executive-level roles, either. This was across the board. You either had to possess them or have clearly demonstrated them.

Most of these listings came from executive recruiting agencies, which seemed fixated on leadership as a non-negotiable trait. But what does that even mean?

This year, there are seven members in Collingwood’s leadership team, including Jamie Elliott and Darcy Moore. Credit: via Getty Images

Business management scholar Henry Mintzberg observed that the only real definition of a leader is someone who has followers. By that measure, Gandhi was a leader – people literally followed him in an act of peaceful resistance. The evidence was visible, undeniable and physical. But how do you prove that kind of leadership to an executive recruiter? Should you include the names of those who followed you? A list of inspired colleagues? A headcount of admirers?

Leadership has become a kind of corporate shibboleth: a word we all nod at, as if its meaning is obvious, when in reality it’s often code for something ambiguous – charisma, confidence, ambition, or simply the ability to look good in meetings. And in the hands of recruiters, it becomes not a skill, but a filter: a vague ideal you’re either seen to embody, or to be excluded for lacking.

The classic case study in the cult of leadership is the AFL. These days, you can’t watch a game without hearing commentators mention the word. It’s a running theme – sometimes the only theme.

Years ago, when the Demons were still rubbish, I remember watching the post-match analysis of a surprise win they’d just had over Collingwood. The focus wasn’t on tactics, team cohesion, or skill execution. It was leadership. Specifically, the captains. The Collingwood captain didn’t play well. The dual captains of Melbourne, on the other hand, played pearlers. The commentators framed the entire result around this contrast. According to them, the reason Melbourne won and Collingwood lost boiled down to the performance of the team leaders. The other players on the field, not to mention the coaches, may as well have been bystanders.

In that moment, leadership wasn’t just emphasised – it was mythologised. And that’s what happens when leadership becomes a narrative shortcut. It’s easy to praise or blame leaders. It’s harder to acknowledge the messy, shared and often invisible nature of collective effort.

These days, we don’t just have leaders in the AFL – we have leadership groups, a new level in the modern cult of leadership.

The shift began when Ray McLean, a leadership expert, reached out to St Kilda in 1994. Through discussions with Stan Alves, then coach of the Saints, McLean introduced the idea of a “leadership group”: if one leader is good for success, more must be better. Alves embraced the concept enthusiastically, and St Kilda introduced its first leadership group of six. The question became: How could St Kilda lose? (They placed 13th that year, and 14th the following year).

Two decades later, the Swans outdid them with a nine-person leadership group: one in every two players in 2014 were acting as leaders. But eventually, the concept reached its inevitable conclusion. In 2020, Collingwood coach Nathan Buckley said the club had developed “a really deep and diverse leadership” not just among senior and emerging leaders, but across the entire playing group and football program. Everyone at Collingwood was a leader, so how could they possibly lose? (They finished eighth that year.)

It’s hard not to see this mindset mirrored in the job market. Executive recruiters seem to imagine the ideal organisation to be no followers, just leaders, until there are no more leaders left to lead.

Now, I’m left with a dilemma. When applying for positions, and the requirement reads “leadership abilities”, how am I supposed to respond? With a straight face and without launching into a lecture on the cult of leadership? Do I list the people who’ve followed me? Offer a headcount? Invent a group and assign myself a mentor? Or do I just play along, tick the box, and hope no one asks too many questions?

Because in a world where everyone’s a leader and leadership is the universal answer to every problem, it seems the only thing you can’t afford to be is someone quietly getting the job done. God forbid you’re an excellent follower.

And yet, the world needs followers. As Mintzberg noted, the only way to define a leader is in terms of followers. Without them, what exactly are we leading?

John Coles is a finance professional.