A weathered signpost at a rural crossroads, its arms pointing in different directions, all of them blank.
Leadership
Reading time:
~ 4 min
Author:
Ela Alptekin

Vagueness protects the leader. The team pays for it.

Leaders rarely stay vague by accident. Ambiguity keeps them from being wrong, keeps options open and avoids a hard conversation. The cost lands on everyone else.

Most leaders don't think of themselves as vague.

They think of themselves as flexible. Open. Careful not to over-direct.

But ask their team what success looks like, and you'll often get six different answers.

Why leaders stay vague

Vagueness is rarely an accident. It usually protects something.

It protects you from being wrong. If you never say exactly what success looks like, nobody can say you missed it.

It seems to keep your options open. In practice, the team can't move until someone chooses.

It avoids conflict. Saying "not now" to a project disappoints someone. Staying vague disappoints no one, until later.

Vagueness is just conflict delayed.

Who pays for it

The team does.

They guess what matters. They duplicate work, chase priorities that quietly changed weeks ago and wait for decisions nobody is making.

And because the cost is spread across everyone, it rarely shows up as a single problem. It shows up as a team that's busy, and somehow not moving.

Imperfect clarity beats perfect ambiguity

You don't need to be certain to be clear. You can say: here's what we're aiming for, here's what we don't know yet, and here's when we'll decide.

You can adjust a direction. You can't optimise fog.

Define success before the work starts, not after.

Say what you're not doing. "Not now" should be as normal as "let's do it."

And name the tension in the room instead of smoothing it over.

Six different answers

I once stepped into a marketing team mid-quarter. Everyone was busy, but when I asked what success looked like, I got six different answers.

People weren't lazy. They were trying to guess what mattered. They were working around the absence of leadership.

All I did in that first fortnight was make three things clear: why we were doing the work, what good looked like and who was actually driving it.

The difference showed up quickly. People moved with purpose again. Not because I said more, but because I made it make sense.

The same thing happens at the top. I once supported a founder working through a strategic pivot. The team had picked up hints of a change, but there was no narrative, no new metrics and no space to ask questions.

The founder wasn't deliberately withholding information. They were still working out the strategy themselves and didn't want to announce something they might later change. So they waited for certainty.

In the meantime, the team filled the silence with their own explanations. Fear crept in. People pulled back. Decisions slowed because nobody knew which direction was safe to commit to.

When the founder finally said, "Here's what's changing, and here's what stays the same," the energy came back.

The strategy wasn't perfect. It didn't need to be.

The team finally had something they could work with.

Safe for whom

Vagueness feels safe.

It's only safe for you.

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