I remember standing at a whiteboard trying to map out why a once-thriving leadership team had become a battlefield of silent resentment. I had been researching the behavioural dynamics between narcissists and super empaths — a relationship often defined by a cycle of deep mission, gradual erosion, and eventual exhaustion. I could begin to see the clear lines of parallel between that co-dependent relationship and the broader toxic leadership culture.
As I drew the lines on the board, it began to formulate into something that sits at the heart of my theory: businesses behave like humans because they are driven by humans. I was not just looking at a singular couple; I was looking at an organisation, a leadership team, and a culture in danger. What I saw was culture drift — the slow, almost invisible slide from a collective culture to a survival culture.
The narcissism of the system
In a personal relationship, a super empath enters with high intent — they want to help, to fix, and to build a bond of trust and care. They are the perfect counterpart to a narcissistic personality, whose behaviour is not always about being overtly harmful, but often driven by an unconscious need to survive and dominate the narrative at any cost.
When you overlay this onto a business, the high-belief employee becomes the empath, and the political leader becomes the narcissist. The leader extracts the passion of the employee, claiming the success as their own while dropping just enough breadcrumbs of praise to keep them dependent.
This is where my glistening yacht theory begins to appear. To the senior leadership team, the leader stands on a ship with perfect paintwork, green KPIs, and the presence of someone firmly in control. However, beneath the waterline, the employees who once had passion projects have become a shadow of their former selves — a pawn in a game they never signed up to play.
The tide of culture drift
People often ask me: when did it go wrong, and can you pinpoint the moment that it shifted? In Atlantic Canada, where I grew up, we have the highest tides in the world, and as every Maritimer knows, they are a force to keep a close eye on when you are fixed on the shoreline. When the tide is out, the waterline is a distant smudge, but it creeps back in with a subtle, relentless persistence.
Culture drift works in exactly the same way. You do not notice the inch-by-inch shift until you realise the ground you were standing on — your collective foundation — has been submerged by survival tactics. You are so focused on the gentle ripples in front of you that you lose the peripheral vision needed to see what is coming.
While the senior leadership team admires the glistening yacht from the shore, the crew is quietly drowning as the tide rises around them — and as every Maritimer knows, you are a fool to keep a close eye on the horizon while ignoring what is happening at your feet.
The first follower: breaking the silence
So, how do we catch the drift before the exodus begins?
There is a well-known video of a lone individual dancing alone on a hill. At first, he looks ridiculous — completely out of place. It is only when the first follower joins him that everything changes. That second person transforms the moment from something isolated into the start of a movement. (If you have not seen it, it is often referred to as the “First Follower” video by Derek Sivers — worth a quick search.)
In an organisation, visible silence holds more power than people realise. It is broken the moment one person is willing to speak the truth. As a behavioural realist, my role is often to be that first follower. By validating that voice, we create the safety for others to step out of the shadows.
The moment you realise
The shift rarely announces itself. There is no clear point where someone stands up and says, “this is no longer what it was.” It is felt in smaller moments — a hesitation before speaking, a glance across the room, a decision not to say what you were about to say.
Individually, those moments are easy to dismiss. Collectively, they tell a different story.
The challenge is that by the time you begin to question the environment, you are already in it. And without a clear reference point, it becomes difficult to know whether what you are feeling is real, or something you should simply push through.
That is why recognising the signals matters.
5 Realist Observations: Is your culture drifting?
- The I vs. We ratio: Does the leader position themselves as the sole architect of the team’s work when presenting to the Senior Leadership Team?
- The energy of the room: Is there an atmospheric weight or a visible silence in your meetings?
- The shadow self: Are your best people becoming quieter, less creative, and more breathless as they try to survive the rising tide?
- The first follower: Is there a safe space for the second person to agree with an uncomfortable truth?
- The safety-net exit: Are people resigning to nothing? If they choose the void over the pay check, the tipping point has already happened.
The bottom line
Identifying these markers is not about assigning blame; it is about regaining sight. Even the longest winters eventually give way to spring. By naming the game and choosing to be a first follower for the truth, you begin the work of reclaiming the collective heart.
Because at the end of the day, an organisation is not a machine to be managed — it is a community to be led
This article forms part two of a six-part series.
To read the full series, including The Realist’s Guide: 18 Truths for Overcoming a Toxic Leadership Culture click here
By Dale Smith, Creative Director, Bridge
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