The Weight of Words: How Modern Leaders Lose Their Voice (And How We Keep Ours)
- Kamohelo Makwela
- Oct 19
- 3 min read
A reflection on how leadership language became filtered, cautious, and hollow — and what it takes to reclaim authenticity.
The question isn’t whether you’re speaking loudly enough. It’s whether your words still carry weight.
When Words Stop Meaning Anything
Leadership used to mean something — there was an element of reliance, of deep-rooted trust. It was about opening space for others who disagreed with you, yet standing firm on your convictions.
Now it’s just: “I’m the line manager, what I say goes.”
We all do this to some extent. We present our houses better than they are, prop up our LinkedIn pages to look like perfect employees or employers. It’s part of our self-marketing. From job posts that oversell “culture” to CVs that oversell competence — we’re all performing perfection.
But none of those words really mean much anymore. Yes, they might get you in the door, but they’ve painted pictures of perfection that neither we nor our organisations can uphold.
The Optics Trap
Our culture is one of hard work — well, blimey, that’s obvious. Trust. Accountability. Integrity. Teamwork.
The words sound noble, but they’ve become wallpaper.
For most people, you’ll never truly be trusted, you’ll never be the one holding your manager to account. You won’t be “worked hard” — you’ll be overworked.
I used to fall into that trap a lot. “We value you. You never complain. We know you’re capable of doing X-task.”
That’s not trust. That’s a nice way of saying, “We know we’ve been unreasonable. We know there are issues you’d like to discuss — but we’re not creating space for that. Here’s more work instead, and a pat on the back so we feel better about it.”
It’s nonsense.
The Exchange of Value
Leaders are allowed to set hard objectives. It’s part of growth. But there has to be a give and take. At the end of the day, organisations compensate employees for their services — it’s an exchange of value.
We need someone to solve a problem, and we’ll put out a contract for 12 months to have someone tend to that problem.
That’s the employee’s side of the deal. If employees saw themselves as businesses, they wouldn’t tolerate as much as they do. And if corporations saw themselves as customers of their employees, their asks wouldn’t be as ridiculous.
“When we forget that leadership is an exchange, our words lose currency.”
The Moment You Lose Them
A quick way to know you’ve lost the team — or an individual — is when your words no longer mean anything to them.
The once-enthusiastic team player becomes a quiet nod-and-doer. Still effective, but no longer invested. You’ve lost a soldier — the one who used to go the extra mile.
That shift often happens when management only “communicates” when it benefits them:
An extra task.
A restructuring.
A team meeting about a new SOP to make workloads more “manageable.”
But where’s the communication that celebrates success? Where’s the management-wide recognition for those being promoted or rewarded?
We just say words, then move on. The actions echo on for weeks — sometimes forever. It means that much.
Reclaiming Weight
We don’t lose our voice all at once — it fades every time we trade honesty for polish.
But what does this mean for us — whether you’re employed or employing?
Sometimes rebuilding trust in others begins within ourselves. Most people treat us the way they’ve been trained to operate in their environments — especially in corporate culture.
That’s why we must train people how to treat us.
How else will others know our boundaries in the workplace? We need to start by speaking truthfully about what helps us and what hurts us.
Setting clear expectations isn’t confrontation — it’s prevention.
Clarity is a cure before the sickness.
When there’s an open, honest communication channel, there’s alignment between management and team.
Then we can build culture together. Then we can restructure in a way that plays to strengths. Then there’s a clear path for growth — because everyone knows what’s celebrated, what’s valued, and what’s off-limits.
When that clarity exists, words stop being empty. They start becoming promises kept.
Until then, our words — “trust,” “value,” “accountability” — mean very little. They’re sounds without soul.
The work ahead isn’t to speak more. It’s to mean more.
