On Greed

You can take too much of a good thing.

But you can also take too much of the difficult.

I have not always understood that. I have mostly thought of greed as something to do with wanting more. More influence. More recognition. More space. More entitlement. Sometimes wanting something that was never really mine to take.

But there is another form of greed. It can arrive disguised as responsibility or decisiveness — perhaps even as leadership.

It shows itself when I take a problem that is not mine.

Not out of ill will. Quite the opposite. Often because my experience allows me to see a way forward. Because I quickly sense where something is heading. I can feel the tension in the room, and I want to restore calm before a sense of inadequacy begins to spread.

It is a familiar situation. A member of staff raises a challenge. Something is unresolved or unfinished.

And in a split second I must choose: can I remain with the inadequacy, or do I rush to deliver a solution?

Perhaps I quickly see the solution that is missing, and perhaps it is even the right one. But perhaps I miss the mark, because I am not standing where the other person is standing. And perhaps I am not corrected, because as a leader I hold the power to define.

And so my solution becomes more than a suggestion. It becomes direction.

Next time, the member of staff comes to me earlier — in order to give me what I want, rather than what they themselves judge to be needed. That increases the likelihood of success in the short term, but it diminishes the organisation's capacity to act over time.

I open my mouth… "Couldn't we just…?" … and… "I think we should…" … and… "The solution is probably…"

On the surface, it looks efficient.

But the question is what is actually happening in that moment. Because perhaps I did not simply solve the problem. Perhaps I stole it.

I did not only take the burden. I took the space around the burden as well. The space in which a person might have finished their thinking. Tested their judgement. Taken ownership of their responsibility. Found their voice. Discovered their own capacity to act.

A problem is also a place where something can come into being. That is why taking someone else's problem too quickly can be a form of greed.

Not greed for things. But greed for the feeling of being competent and relevant. For confirming that one belongs in one's role.

It is a difficult form of greed to notice, because it so often feels like something good.

It feels like care, but it can unfortunately be disempowering — taking something important away from people: the possibility of being capable themselves.

This does not mean that leadership consists in stepping back, or that one should leave people alone with what they cannot bear. That would not be virtuous restraint — it would simply be neglect.

But there is a difference between leaving someone alone and letting them stand on their own.

We flourish when we are met with trust — including in the form of "I believe you can do this."

I believe the path from greed to restraint can be found through a very small pause — in which one might say this brief, quiet sentence:

I can distinguish between what is mine and what is yours.

It creates a small interval between impulse and action. Between my urge to solve and the other person's opportunity to carry responsibility and grow. Between my capacity to act and the other person's development.

It is always worth remaining with the question a little longer than one feels compelled to, before moving towards a solution.

That creates space to ask what lies beneath my first perception. Everything the other person has already considered, and what they actually need from me. Whether it is mine to solve, or mine to help define. Whether the responsibility belongs to me — or to the one who is carrying it.

It requires more discipline than I had previously understood, but my experience is that it is far more effective for the organisation.

A wise woman said to me recently:

"I have been leading beyond my capacity."

That sentence has stayed with me this week. Because sometimes our "greed" leads us to manage too much and carry more than belongs to us. We become the crutch that prevents others from learning to walk. And so we lead beyond our capacity, because we forget restraint.

Let me not take from you what you are in the process of becoming strong enough to carry yourself.

— Mia