Rethinking institutional reform, part 3: Who should lead organisational change?
Enterprise change doesn’t begin with strategy — it starts with quiet dissent. So who really leads reform in the public sector?
First published in the Mandarin
Revolutions don’t start in the boardroom. They begin with discomfort, dissent, and the quiet refusal to obey. So why do we still expect organisational change to be driven by those at the top?
Perhaps the clearest sign that reform is necessary is when people start to withdraw. Not loudly, not with anger, but quietly, subtly, and consistently. The great resignation of the pandemic, the follow-on behaviour of quiet quitting, and the persistent decline in workforce engagement are all signs of withdrawal. People cease offering ideas, they stop caring about decisions, and they only do what is necessary.
Philosopher Hannah Arendt contends that the opposite of political engagement is not violence but indifference. When individuals stop believing their actions matter, they withdraw into what she calls “the private realm”. In organisations, this withdrawal is as much a moral issue as it is a professional one. Discretionary effort is withheld, and the organisation becomes a machine that they operate.
The philosophy of revolution and dissidence suggests that the desire for change often starts in the middle, where individuals experience internal tensions within organisations and are consistently asked to absorb and manage them. Understanding these tensions better can help uncover new approaches to leading organisational reform.
This third article in the series asks the question: Who should lead organisational change?
The weight of tradition
One reason reform is difficult to justify is the weight of tradition. Institutions do not simply exist to deliver services. They are carriers of history and memory. This can be a source of strength, especially in the public sector, where continuity, reliability, and a sense of purpose are vital.
But leaders may justify inaction by pointing to “the way things have always been done.” They are suspicious of change and discount it as a fad. And so, the institution preserves itself.
At the other extreme, tradition can be too easily discarded. Leaders can use reform as a way of signalling their difference. The result is a cycle of ‘reform fatigue’ where every few years brings a new agenda, but the deeper issues remain unresolved.
The philosopher Paul Ricoeur says that a mature institution can critically reflect on its history. Reform is justified not by rejecting the past but by interpreting it. The best reason for change often isn’t critique but preserving continuity. In this frame, reform doesn’t mean breaking tradition but revitalising it.
Organisational reform often mirrors a revolution. It is disruptive, driven by resistance, and aims for a different future; however, it is most effective when handled as a negotiation between what needs to change and what should stay the same.
This is most clear in how we are shaping our post-pandemic working lives. Employees are rethinking work, voice, and purpose, and they are calling for a reimagining of leadership, not as authority, but as trust.
Reform, transformation, and revolution
Whether political or scientific, revolutions are transformative moments that alter the existing social order.
Conceptually, revolutions and enterprise transformation both involve contested views on the future, a need for change, and questions about whether maintaining stability or embracing uncertainty is the better approach. Additionally, both involve social complexity and emergent behaviour during their implementation.
The analogy offers a philosophical perspective on understanding enterprise transformation. Importantly, the philosophy of revolution prompts moral and ethical questions that are often ignored in standard organisational change management theories. These questions influence the way enterprise transformation is planned and implemented.
The initial insight from revolution history shows that disruptions requiring a forced governance change, extensive community participation, and a realignment of core institutions are rare. Conversely, enterprise reform is intentionally driven by either internal demands for efficiency or external pressures to adapt. This suggests that, in usual practice, enterprise reform warrants more precise definitions and more careful application.
The second lesson from history is that revolutions often take years to develop. Time is spent shaping the story, convincing supporters, and rallying participants. It is also clear that revolutionary leaders dedicate time to communicating during this period. In particular, ideas are documented, spread, and debated.
Revolutions begin with a contest of ideas. A letter from John Adams to Thomas Jefferson reflecting on the American Revolution highlights that revolutions start with awakening and galvanising the hearts and minds of people to a shared cause.
What do we mean by the Revolution? The War? That was no part of the Revolution; it was only an Effect and the Consequence of it. The Revolution was in the Minds of the People, and this was effected from 1760 to 1775, before a drop of blood was shed at Lexington.
From this perspective, conflict is viewed as a consequence of revolution. This contrasts with traditional organisational change approaches, which usually follow a straightforward path towards a specific goal. Such approaches aim to align with organisational strategy and meet senior leadership’s expectations. Factors such as context, narrative, perception, emotion, and leadership are essential in justifying revolution and influencing its development.
The paradox of leadership in times of change
Revolutionaries rarely come from the centre. History shows us that revolutions are led by outsiders, dissenters, and those whose vision conflicts with the system they aim to change. However, in modern organisations, it’s the insiders—the executives, the boards, and the consultants—who are responsible for leading enterprise transformation.
This contradiction lies at the heart of organisational change. Leaders are expected to be both protectors of stability and catalysts for change. They need to promote loyalty to a system they are actively working to dismantle. At the same time, they must convince others to adopt change while still being part of the very structures that oppose it.
The question isn't just how to lead transformation, but who should be responsible for it. What gives someone the authority to remake an organisation’s future? What kind of leadership emerges when transformation is seen not just as implementation, but as a moral upheaval?
The aims of the system and the aims of life
In his 1978 essay The Power of the Powerless, Václav Havel examined life under an authoritarian regime. His idea of the “aims of the system” versus the “aims of life” resonates with today’s organisational environment. In Havel’s view, the system aims for stability, control, and compliance, while life seeks dignity, meaning, and self-expression.
Modern organisations are not authoritarian states. However, they often operate with similar structural logics: hierarchical control, message conformity, and performance-based legitimacy.
A brand becomes an ideology; culture becomes orthodoxy. Even well-meaning transformations can end up reinforcing the system’s aims (e.g., efficiency or productivity), often at the expense of the quality of human experience.
Enterprise transformation is more than just a structural change; it involves a clash between different visions of the organisation’s purpose. When transformation fails, it often happens because leaders forget that behind the system’s goals are deeper, more human-driven aims of the people who must live and work within it.
The quiet power of dissent
Revolutions don’t start with strategy papers. They start with discomfort. As Havel noted, dissent doesn’t begin with a desire to overthrow. It begins with the simple act of doing your work with integrity.
The greengrocer in Havel’s parable who refuses to put the official slogan in his shop window doesn't shout slogans or lead a march. He simply chooses not to play along. But by doing this, he reveals the emptiness of the system and reasserts his moral agency.
In organisations, dissent rarely appears as open rebellion. Instead, it shows as disengagement, quiet resistance, or principled noncompliance. Middle managers, who are primarily responsible for turning strategy into action, often become the centre of this tension. They understand both the rhetoric of reform and the realities of work. Their silence, or their refusal to act, can halt even the most well-planned transformation.
Ironically, it is from these ranks that the most genuine leaders of change might arise. Middle managers are well placed to quietly demonstrate an alternative way of being within the system.
The moral economy of transformation
Mainstream management often assumes that individuals are primarily motivated by incentives such as financial rewards, promotions, or recognition. However, as E.P. Thompson outlined in 1963, people also engage in what could be called a moral economy, which is a cohesive framework of fairness, meaning, and shared obligation. In the workplace, Denise Rousseau’s concept of the psychological contract, which encompasses the informal and unwritten perceptions and obligations between employer and employee, captures a similar sentiment.
When organisational change violates this moral economy, such as when people feel disrespected, excluded, or used instrumentally, resistance tends to increase. Not because people fear change, but because they perceive it as a betrayal.
Revolutionaries understand this instinctively. They don’t lead by imposing a plan but by expressing a grievance. They voice what is already felt but left unsaid. In doing so, they restore a sense of moral order before trying to establish a new institutional order. In this context, Winston Churchill, by giving voice to what was in the hearts and minds of the people, acted as a revolutionary during World War II.
Organisational reform must begin with listening like a revolutionary. Leaders need to ask not only what needs to change but also what has been violated and who has been left behind. Without this, transformation becomes an abstract idea: a project that lacks people.
Who leads the revolution?
This leads us to the main question: Who should lead enterprise transformation?
Not the ideologue who only sees broken systems. Not the technician who only focuses on processes. Not the executive who tries to preserve the past, nor the one aiming to boost their reputation.
There might be a role for the dissident insider. Someone who understands the organisation’s values thoroughly enough to spot where they’ve been compromised, and who is trusted enough to mend them from within.
Dieter Tomä describes the puer robustus as an awkward figure who challenges the current order and may find it hard to fit into a new organisation. The puer robustus is a transitional leader. This type of leader is both an insider and an outsider, acting as a loyal critic and a cautious reformer.
Such leaders do not lead with certainty. They lead with moral restlessness. They sense the system’s fractures and work to reimagine and repair. These figures are more likely to be found in the middle of the organisation rather than at the top.
Interestingly, talent management programs are not designed to identify the puer robustus walking among us; instead, they tend to push these individuals out of organisations because they don't fit the corporate mould.
The principles of legitimate transformation
The earlier articles on the moral case and the complexity of the system show why and how transformation should be approached with humility. Then, this article should provide guidance not only on who might be best positioned to lead it but also on which principles should guide them.
Six principles emerge from this series that provide a way to genuine transformation:
Consensus: transformation cannot be imposed without consequence. It must be grounded in dialogue and informed agreement.
Objectivity: leaders must show that they are not pursuing personal or political agendas.
Acceptability: the authority to act must come from trust, not title alone.
Balance: the scope of the reform must match the size of the problem.
Integrity: leaders must demonstrate the change they endorse.
Transparency: openly communicate the reasons for change and the associated trade-offs.
These are not just ethical ideals; they are essential in real-life applications. Without them, change becomes performance.
Leadership as a moral act
The best leaders of enterprise reform are not those with the boldest vision, but those who can translate that vision into shared meaning.
In times of change, legitimacy is built through trust. The revolutionary leader in the organisation is not always the one at the top, but rather the one most capable of bridging the system and the people, the one who can unite Havel’s ideals of the system and the aims of life.
Most likely, they are already among us, quietly dissenting, patiently listening, and preparing for what comes next.
