The two types of design leader

There are two types of design leader you are likely to encounter in the wild. Both are often charming, both are convincing, and both will promise you a golden future. One will guide you safely to harbour. The other will steer your company onto the rocks. It is critically important to know the difference. Let's call them the Pilot and the Cargo Cultist.

The origin of the cult

The name 'Cargo Cultist' comes from a fascinating real-world phenomenon. After the Second World War, islanders in the South Pacific who had seen soldiers call down huge transport planes full of supplies began to imitate their rituals. They carved headphones from wood and sat in makeshift control towers. They built life-sized runways out of straw, lit by torches, hoping to summon the great silver birds from the sky.

They were performing a perfect ceremony, with no understanding of the underlying principles.

And our industry is full of leaders who do the same. The Cargo Cultist Leader is a seductive archetype, paved with the skills that made them a brilliant individual contributor. Their entire career has been about being the hero with the clever solution, addicted to the ego boost of being the smartest person in the room. They are a great Maker who has failed, utterly, to become a Multiplier.

While this metaphor has been powerfully used to critique our processes (Mark Parnell’s 2018 Medium article is a key example), my focus here is different. I'm interested in the leadership archetype this phenomenon creates: a leader who copies the rituals of success without understanding what actually makes it work. They have a predictable, and deeply destructive, playbook.

The Cargo Cultist path is a seductive one, paved with the skills that made them a brilliant individual contributor. Their entire career has been about being the hero with the clever solution. They are addicted to the ego boost of being the smartest person in the room. They are a great Maker who has failed, utterly, to become a Multiplier. They see their value in being the source of all genius, rather than creating an environment where genius can flourish in others.

And our industry is full of them. Leaders who perfectly copy the rituals of success without understanding what actually makes it work. They have a predictable, and deeply destructive, playbook.

The cargo cultist's playbook

• Seduce the C-Suite: They are masters of the dazzling prototype and the buzzword-laden presentation. They sell a vision of a glorious, disruptive future, often without any real understanding of the engineering or business reality required to build it.
• Ritual without reason: They will fanatically implement the latest trendy process, the "Spotify Model," the "Design Sprint", as a series of rigid ceremonies. They copy the diagrams but have no idea how to build the deep, underlying culture of trust and autonomy that makes them function.
• Blame the unbelievers: When their cargo planes of success inevitably fail to land, the Cargo Cultist has a ready-made excuse. The engineering team, they will claim, was "too slow," or the product team "lacked vision." The problem, they will insist, was not with the ritual, but with the faith of the participants.
• The 18-month exit: Just before the true, expensive consequences of their chaotic reign become clear, the Cargo Cultist exits the company. They leave with a glowing reference based on their initial "vision," leaving a crater of distrust, broken projects, and a demoralised team in their wake.

"The Pilot's playbook is less about personal glory and more about the hard, unglamorous work of finding the way and guiding the vessel to a safe harbour."

The Pilot, by contrast, plays a much longer, quieter, and more difficult game. Their playbook is less about personal glory and more about the hard, unglamorous work of finding the way and guiding the vessel to a safe harbour.

The pilot's playbook: Navigating the treacherous waters

• They chart the course together: The Pilot starts by listening. They build deep trust with their partners in product and engineering to understand the vessel's capabilities and the destination's requirements. They study the charts, the business, the users, the technology.. from the ground up before proposing a route.
• They trust the compass, not just the map: The Pilot knows that a map is just a diagram of a perfect day. A true navigator relies on their compass, a core set of principles. They understand that a great culture is built on a foundation of shared principles like psychological safety, not a rigid set of meetings. The rituals serve the principles, not the other way around.
• They develop the crew: A Pilot is useless without a competent crew to execute their commands. Their primary focus is on mentoring and upskilling the existing team. They understand their job is not to be the best helmsman, but to create a team of brilliant sailors.
• They navigate by landmarks: While keeping an eye on the horizon (the grand vision), the Pilot proves their value by successfully navigating past visible landmarks. They deliver real, shipped, impactful work incrementally, proving to everyone that the ship is on the right course and making steady progress.

The tragic truth is that many design-immature organisations are uniquely vulnerable to the Cargo Cultist's charms. They are seduced by the sizzle of the ritual and don't know how to spot the lack of steak.

The best defence, then, isn't a better interview process. It's a mature company culture. An organisation that measures success by shipped, valuable outcomes, not by the quality of a PowerPoint presentation, is the one place a Cargo Cultist cannot survive. It's an immune system that naturally rejects the virus.