It's easy to assume that leaders derail due to obvious flaws—poor judgment, unchecked ego, toxic behavior. But most leaders don't derail because of recklessness. They derail because they lean too hard on the very strengths that got them there.
Like a rope fraying one thread at a time, this happens slowly, almost invisibly. They overuse a trusted way of leading until they can’t see what they've lost.
They become narrower, less adaptable, more disconnected—not because they've changed, but because the role has changed them. Leadership, given enough time, casts a shadow that colors how others see you, and ultimately, how you see yourself.
This piece maps that hidden territory. Understanding your leadership shadow isn't just about growth, it's essential for survival.
From managerial roles to leadership shadows
Henry Mintzberg famously mapped out ten managerial roles—everything from figurehead to negotiator to disturbance handler—based on close observation of how executives actually spend their time. It was one of the first attempts to ground leadership in what leaders do, not just what they intend.
However, Mintzberg's observations didn't fully capture what happens beneath the surface. This is where Erik de Haan and Anthony Kasozi pick up the thread in The Leadership Shadow: How to Recognize and Avoid Derailment, Hubris and Overdrive.
They highlight how:
- Roles don't just organize behavior—they shape identity.
- Every leadership function privileges some part of you and suppresses something else.
- Leadership roles don't just express who you are—they also distort who you become.
Every time you emphasize one aspect of yourself to meet leadership demands—decisiveness, vision, steadiness—another part gets pushed aside. Over time, this distortion hardens. You confuse the role you play with who you are.
What you regularly express is only half the story. The other half—the parts you've unconsciously put away—becomes your shadow. This shadow doesn't disappear; it quietly builds in the background.
The result isn't immediately obvious. You're still hitting targets and respected. But underneath, the very things that made you successful start limiting you.
While Mintzberg showed the visible architecture of managerial work, De Haan and Kasozi reveal the crawlspace: the emotional cost, cognitive drift, and identity creep that comes with being "the leader."
Three core modes of leading
De Haan and Kasozi distill leadership into three core functions, or “modes of contribution” along with the illusions (shadow effects) these create. These aren’t roles you choose—they’re patterns that emerge based on how you habitually lead:
1. Doing (Supporting): You make things happen. You facilitate, decide, allocate, and push forward.
2. Thinking (Inspiring): You set direction. You generate insight, synthesize complexity, articulate what’s next.
3. Feeling (Containing): You absorb emotional strain. You hold space, offer empathy, and steady the group.
Each of these are vital. None is superior. But when one becomes your dominant posture—the lens through which you see the world—it starts to distort.
Not in how you perform, but in what you no longer perceive.
Every strength casts a shadow
Leadership doesn’t just bring your strengths into the light. It also casts parts of you into the shadow. Here’s how each function creates its own blind spot:
1. Doing → Illusion of Omnipotence
If your strength is action, decisiveness, and delivery, you begin to see yourself as the one who makes things happen. And when that’s reinforced enough times, it becomes difficult to admit when you can’t.
You suppress your own needs for support, collaboration, or pause. You instinctively fill gaps before others can step in. You become the leader who always carries the load—and quietly resents others for not doing the same.
Over time, this creates a kind of functional isolation. People expect you to act, not ask. And you expect the same of yourself. It’s not that you believe you’re invincible—but you forget what it feels like to not be.
This is the illusion of omnipotence. Not arrogance, but over-functioning. The belief that your value lies in what you do, and if you stop doing, you stop leading.
2. Thinking → Illusion of Infallibility
If your primary strength is sensemaking—connecting dots, spotting trends, offering strategic insight—you may start to unconsciously identify with your ideas. You become the one who brings clarity. The one with the plan.
But clarity can become rigidity. You stop noticing when your framing is incomplete. You explain instead of listening. You analyze when someone needed empathy. Your thinking sharpens, but curiosity dulls.
The illusion of infallibility doesn’t mean you think you’re always right. It means you’ve stopped noticing the moments when you’re not. You become immune to correction—not because others fear you, but because they’ve learned that disagreement rarely changes your mind.
3. Feeling → Illusion of Invulnerability
If your default mode is emotional containment—absorbing others’ distress, staying calm in crisis, showing empathy—people come to see you as a source of steadiness. You’re the one who holds the space.
But if you over-identify with this role, you begin to ignore your own needs. You become so used to listening that you stop expressing. You appear present, but not fully seen. Others feel safe with you but rarely intimate.
You start to believe you don’t get rattled. And when you do, you hide it even from yourself. With time, you flatten emotionally—not as a performance, but as self-protection.
This is the illusion of invulnerability: the unspoken belief that you don’t need care, because you’re the one giving it.
Why this matters
Derailment rarely announces itself and isn’t typically caused by dramatic flaws. It’s caused by unexamined loyalty to a single way of leading.
It builds quietly through overuse, distortion, and self-narrowing. Not because you’ve failed—but because you haven’t adjusted the role you’ve been living in.
- The doer burns out, surrounded by passive teams.
- The thinker loses influence, dismissed as detached or arrogant.
- The feeler disappears into quiet resentment, wondering why no one checks in on them.
Most leaders don’t burn out from weakness but from unexamined strength.
The damage manifests as disconnection—from your full range of abilities, from diverse perspectives, and from evolving team needs. As others adapt to your blind spots, feedback diminishes and your presence becomes rigid.
This is why the shadow matters. Not as a psychological metaphor, but as operational reality. Ignoring vulnerability or doubt doesn't just limit personal growth—it constrains your entire leadership field.
This isn't mere introspection. It's a vital tool for sustaining leadership effectiveness and preventing the invisible drift toward derailment. By recognizing these patterns early, leaders can reclaim their full range and maintain the flexibility essential for long-term success.
What to do about it
You don’t need a psychological deep dive to work with this. Just stop assuming that your best mode is the only one. Three simple steps can help surface the shadow:
1. Name your dominant mode
- Which of the three functions—doing, thinking, or feeling—do you rely on most? What do others instinctively come to you for?
- Then ask: What don’t they come to me for? What do I avoid? What situations do I feel ill-equipped to handle?
- That’s your edge. And probably your shadow.
2. Track what irritates you
- Irritation is often unacknowledged projection. The behaviors that bother you in others—neediness, indecision, emotionality—often point to parts of yourself you’ve disowned.
- What we can’t stand may be what we fear becoming.
3. Loosen the identity grip on your primary mode
The most insidious trap isn’t over-functioning. It’s self-identifying with the function.
- “I’m the one who gets things done.”
- “I’m the one who sees the big picture.”
- “I’m the one who stays grounded.”
These are roles. Not realities. The longer you believe them, the less room you have to grow.
The goal isn’t balance—it’s integration. Leadership range comes not from adding skills, but from reclaiming the parts you’ve stopped allowing.
In closing
Mintzberg showed us the architecture of what leaders do. De Haan and Kasozi invite us to ask what those roles do to us. This is a deeper aspect of leadership—not just executing the role, but staying aware of the costs in order to stay in the long game.
You don’t need to do less of what you’re great at. You just need to notice how it's changing you.
The longer you lead, the more you need to ask: What has my role made me forget about myself?
Related reading
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Sources and references
- De Haan, E., & Kasozi, A. (2014). The Leadership Shadow: How to Recognize and Avoid Derailment, Hubris and Overdrive.
- Lombardo, Michael M., et al. “Explanations of Success and Derailment in Upper-Level Management Positions.” Journal of Business and Psychology. JSTOR, http://www.jstor.org/stable/25092138.
- McCall, M. W., Jr., & Lombardo, M. M. (1983). Off the track: Why and how successful executives get derailed (Technical Report No. 21). Center for Creative Leadership. https://doi.org/10.35613/ccl.1983.1083
- Development Dimensions International. "Global Leadership Forecast."
- Development Dimensions International. "Leadership Transitions Report."