When a tree topples in a storm, it is rarely only because of the storm.
The wind may be fierce, the rain relentless, and the pressure visible to everyone. Yet very often, the storm only reveals what was already true beneath the surface. The roots were shallow, weakened, neglected, or unable to hold the weight of the tree when pressure came.
Leadership is not very different.
We are living in a time where many leaders appear to be toppling. Some fall through ethical failure. Some collapse under sustained pressure. Some lose the trust of their teams. Some burn out quietly long before anyone notices. Whether this is more common than before, or simply more visible, the impact is clear: leadership failure is painful, far-reaching, and often deeply damaging.
When a tree falls, the cleanup may take a few days. Branches are cleared, the stump is removed, and grass may eventually cover the place where the tree once stood. But when a leader falls, the damage travels further and lasts longer. It affects trust, morale, relationships, culture, families, reputations, and sometimes people’s confidence in leadership itself.
This is why leaders cannot afford to focus only on the storm.
Storms will come. Pressure will come. Conflict, criticism, ambiguity, disappointment, complexity, fatigue, and uncertainty will come. No leader is exempt. The deeper question is not whether storms will arise, but what kind of root system the leader has been cultivating before the storm arrives.
Two trees in the same field can respond very differently to the same storm. One stands. The other falls. Before the storm, they may have looked equally strong. But the storm reveals the roots.
The same is true of leaders. Under pressure, one leader becomes defensive, reactive, avoidant, controlling, or compromised. Another remains grounded, truthful, humble, steady, and courageous. The difference is not created in the storm. It is revealed by the storm.
J.C. Ryle captured this soberly when he wrote, “Men fall in private long before they fall in public.” Public failure is often the final chapter of a private erosion that began much earlier. The small compromise. The hidden resentment. The boundary repeatedly crossed. The truth slightly edited. The conversation avoided. The ego quietly fed. The accountability resisted. The fatigue ignored. The value negotiated away.
Leaders rarely collapse all at once. More often, the collapse begins quietly.
It begins when a leader stops paying attention to their inner life. It begins when success becomes more important than integrity. It begins when pressure becomes an excuse for poor behaviour. It begins when exhaustion is normalised. It begins when a leader is surrounded by people, but no longer truly known by anyone. It begins when performance becomes separated from formation.
This does not mean leaders must live in fear of failure. It means leaders must take the condition of their roots seriously.
Root work is the hidden work of leadership. It is the unseen cultivation of character, integrity, values, self-awareness, emotional maturity, spiritual grounding, healthy boundaries, and accountable relationships. It often receives little applause because it happens beneath the surface. Yet it is the work that determines whether a leader can carry the weight of influence without being hollowed out by it.
Leadership development cannot only be about skill. Skills matter. Strategy matters. Communication matters. Execution matters. Stakeholder management matters. But leadership is not only a set of external competencies. It is also the expression of an inner life.
What is the leader rooted in? What shapes their choices when no one is watching? What governs their use of power? What do they do with fear, disappointment, ambition, fatigue, praise, criticism, and success? What kind of person are they becoming while they are leading?
These are not soft questions. They are serious leadership questions.
For some leaders, root work begins with integrity. Are my public commitments and private choices aligned? Do I behave consistently when I am under pressure? Do I tell the truth early enough, or only when silence is no longer sustainable? Do I use authority to serve, or to protect myself? Do I take responsibility, or subtly shift blame?
For others, root work begins with identity. Am I only as secure as my last achievement, title, client win, or performance review? Can I receive feedback without collapsing? Can I make difficult decisions without needing to be liked by everyone? Can I lead with commitment without being consumed by the role?
For many leaders, root work also requires emotional honesty. What am I carrying that I have not named? What am I avoiding? Where am I becoming reactive? Where has disappointment become cynicism? Where has fatigue become harshness? Where has uncertainty become control?
For leaders of faith, root work also includes spiritual grounding. This is not about using religious language to decorate leadership. It is about humility, conscience, accountability, surrender, and the recognition that leadership is stewardship before it is status.
Teams also have roots.
A team’s visible performance is shaped by invisible patterns. How do people speak when there is disagreement? What happens when someone makes a mistake? What is avoided? Do people leave meetings genuinely aligned, or merely quiet? Is there trust, or only politeness? Is there accountability, or only compliance?
A team may appear healthy until the storm comes. Then the roots are revealed. Under pressure, some teams fragment into silos. Some become political. Some become passive. Others lean into trust, candour, shared ownership, disciplined dialogue, and mutual responsibility. Again, the difference is not created in the storm. It is cultivated before the storm.
This is why intentional team development matters. A team alliance or charter, when done well, is not merely a document. It is root work. It helps a team define how it will behave when pressure rises, how disagreement will be handled, how trust will be repaired, how decisions will be made, and how accountability will be practised.
Root work must happen in ordinary time, not only in crisis time.
A crisis does not usually arrive when the leader has had enough sleep, enough perspective, enough support, and enough reflective space. It often arrives when the leader is already stretched. This is why the roots must be tended before the storm.
A useful question is not only, “How do I get through this storm?”
A deeper question is, “What is this storm revealing about my roots?”
Is it revealing fear? Pride? Impatience? Avoidance? A lack of boundaries? Overdependence on approval? Isolation? Reactivity? A team that has confused politeness with trust?
This question is not about shame. It is about formation. There is grace in discovering weak roots before the tree falls. Awareness allows the leader to strengthen what has been neglected, repair what has been damaged, and return to what is essential.
The wise leader does not wait for collapse before doing root work. The wise leader pays attention early, seeks counsel, invites challenge, apologises where necessary, repairs trust, and creates rhythms of reflection. The wise leader asks not only, “Am I effective?” but also, “Am I whole, honest, grounded, and aligned?”
Storms will come. No leader is exempt from pressure. No team is exempt from difficulty. No organisation is exempt from uncertainty. But leaders who tend to the roots are more likely to stand with steadiness when the wind rises.
The work beneath the surface will eventually become visible above the surface.
When the storm comes, it will reveal the roots.
Written by Nkulu
