Decentralised leadership is surprisingly simple: Leadership is not …

Decentralised leadership is surprisingly simple:

Leadership is not about holding responsibility. It’s about continually distributing it.

Jonas Gröner’s essay adds an important nuance, though. Distribution isn’t dumping tasks onto people. It’s creating conditions where others can genuinely grow into responsibility.

A distilled version might look like this:

Decentralised leadership is…

  • Seeing leadership as a role, not an identity. No one permanently is the leader. People occupy leadership roles for a time.
  • Knowing when you’ve outgrown your current role. Like the hermit crab metaphor, growth means recognising when your current “shell” has become too small.
  • Preparing someone else to inherit your shell. The real work isn’t stepping up, it’s making sure someone can step in after you.
  • Growing responsibility through successive stretches. People become capable because they’re invited into slightly larger challenges over time, not thrown into the deep end.
  • Measuring success by succession. A healthy community isn’t one with brilliant leaders. It’s one where leadership keeps reproducing itself.
  • Treating power as circulation rather than accumulation. Authority moves through the network instead of collecting at the centre.

In one sentence

A decentralized leader works to become progressively less indispensable while making the community progressively more capable.


The idea that struck me most in the piece wasn’t actually decentralisation itself. It was his redefinition of success:

A successful group is one where the passing on of knowledge, responsibility, relationships, and resources becomes normal.

That’s a subtle shift. Instead of asking, “How do we build a stronger leader?”, the question becomes:

“How do we build a system where leadership keeps moving?”

The hermit crab image captures this beautifully. The goal isn’t for one crab to find the biggest shell and keep it forever. The whole colony thrives because shells are passed along at the right moment, allowing everyone’s growth to continue.

Likes What Is Your Definition of Success? by …

What struck me most reading this is how success keeps shedding its skin as we grow.

Early on, it often looks like accumulation…status, security, recognition. Then, at some point (if we’re paying attention), it starts to feel like subtraction. Less noise. Less performance. Less chasing.

What’s left is something harder to measure but easier to feel.

Time. Freedom. Presence. The ability to be with life rather than constantly trying to shape it into something impressive.

I think the real pivot happens when success stops being about becoming someone and starts being about no longer needing to.

That’s not a downgrade. It’s a kind of quiet upgrade that doesn’t photograph well but feels like coming home.

Rethinking Success: Farmer or Hunter/Gatherer?

We’ve inherited a story of success that looks a lot like farming. Put your head down. Work the land. Plant the seeds of skill and discipline. Grind away for years. Guard your harvest. Repeat.

It’s the agricultural model of achievement: steady, linear, and long-term. And it has value. Persistence matters. Discipline matters. But, in a fast-changing world, the field doesn’t always hold. By the time you’ve put in your 10,000 hours, the soil may have dried up, the market may have shifted, and the game may have changed.

The Hunter/Gatherer Alternative

In Michael Neill’s latest Cafe for the Soul post, he offers a different metaphor: the hunter/gatherer.

Hunters don’t grind one patch of land forever. They travel light. They keep their senses sharp, scanning for what’s available right now. A ripe fruit here. A herd passing through there. They take what’s needed, adapt quickly, and move on when conditions shift. No hoarding, no backbreaking toil in barren fields.

When we map this onto modern life, the hunter/gatherer mindset prizes responsiveness, adaptability, and opportunity-spotting. It asks us to notice the openings that are already around us—in an email, in a conversation, in a passing idea—and act before they vanish.

The hunter’s toolkit is different from the farmer’s. Where farmers invest in ploughs and irrigation systems, hunters cultivate awareness and mobility. They develop pattern recognition, that ability to read subtle signs that others miss. They learn to trust their intuition about timing, knowing when to strike and when to wait. Most importantly, they understand that scarcity is often an illusion; there’s usually another opportunity around the corner if you know how to look.

The Coaching Reframe

Here’s the coaching takeaway:

Instead of asking, “How can I keep working this one field?” Try asking, “Where’s the fresh game today?”

That simple reframe can free us from the grind and open us to the opportunities at our feet. It’s about balancing long-term goals with agility so we’re not trapped in a field that’s no longer fertile, rather than abandoning them altogether.

Consider how this plays out in different domains. The farmer-entrepreneur doubles down on their original business model even as the market shifts. The hunter-entrepreneur pivots quickly, following emerging trends and customer needs. The farmer-professional climbs the traditional corporate ladder rung by rung. The hunter-professional builds a portfolio of skills and relationships that can adapt to new industries and roles.

The Integration: Why We Need Both

For me, both models hold truth. In the fast pace of today’s world, I find myself leaning on the hunter’s skills, like staying light, moving quickly, and spotting what’s fresh before it disappears. It’s how I keep up with the shifts, how I keep my work alive and responsive.

At the same time, running my blog feels much closer to farming. Soulcruzer is my field. I plant new insights, tend to ideas, and cultivate a space where people can return, season after season. It’s a place of steady growth, a kind of digital soil that grows richer the more I care for it.

And maybe it’s not just a field; perhaps it’s also a campsite. A fire that stays lit so others can gather round, share their own stories, and feel part of something communal.

The Rhythm of Sustainable Success

Hunting keeps me fed in the short term. Farming keeps the fire burning in the long term. Together, they create a rhythm that feels sustainable, alive, and true to the times we’re living in.

But there’s a third element often overlooked: the rest between seasons. Traditional societies understood this: the fallow periods that let the land recover and the ceremonial times when the community gathered to share stories and make meaning from their experiences.

In our always-on culture, we’ve forgotten the wisdom of rhythms. We try to farm and hunt simultaneously, burning out in the process. The integrated approach requires not just knowing when to plant and when to roam, but when to simply be still and let insights settle, relationships deepen, and energy restore itself.

Living the Question

Gather what’s close. Hunt when the hunt is on. And remember to rest in between. Success is about actually living, not just harvesting what we’ve grown, or hunting the next big thing.

Perhaps the deepest insight isn’t choosing farmer or hunter, but learning to ask better questions: What season am I in right now? What does this moment call for? How can I honour both the need for growth and the need for discovery?

In a world that’s changing faster than ever, our survival, and our thriving, may depend not on having the right answer, but on staying fluid enough to dance with whatever questions emerge. The farmer’s patience. The hunter’s alertness. The gatherer’s appreciation for what’s already here.

That’s a way of being fully alive, not just a strategy for success.