What can you see from the back? A lesson in leadership from the herd

Last September, I spent four incredible days at Big Skye Equestrian Facility, managed by Julie Fitzpatrick, in Coatesville, Pennsylvania, interning on the final part of a year-long leadership programme for two groups of 16 senior finance leaders.

I was there with Jen Johnsen, my fellow Wayfinder Instructor, Master Coach and Equus Coach® colleague. We were undertaking one of four shadowing opportunities during our two-year Equus Coach® Master Facilitator Programme and had chosen this particular project for our internship.

The two-day Equus leadership programme had been created by Sheppard Lake, an experienced leadership and organisational development consultant and Master Equus Coach®. It was delivered with a highly skilled team from the Center for Equus Coaching, including owner Erin Cutshall and instructor Renee Sievert.

The participants had spent a year learning together and knew one another well. Their final two days included individual coaching in the round pen, communication activities in pairs, meditation in the paddock as horses wandered among them, and working in groups to guide horses through a series of obstacles. As with all Equus Coaching, everything took place on the ground.

It is fair to say they arrived with varying levels of enthusiasm.

Some were excited to be there. Others were clearly wondering what on earth horses could teach a group of CFOs about leadership.

By the second day, however, they were noticeably more relaxed and confident around the horses. They were also beginning to see how clearly their familiar ways of communicating and leading could show up in the arena.

Who is really leading?

During one of the activities, based on the TeachingHorse Diamond Model of Shared Leadership™, which Renee introduced, the participants worked in small groups with a horse.

One person took responsibility for leading from the front, while the others supported the horse’s movement from the sides and rear. Together, they had to guide the horse through and around a series of obstacles.

Each position offered a different view and a different kind of influence. The person at the front knew the intended direction. Those alongside could see how the horse was responding, while the people at the back could see more of the group as a whole.

The activity required them to pay attention to their pace, direction, communication and whether they were genuinely working together.

Very quickly, their familiar patterns began to appear.

Who took charge? Who hung back? Could everyone hear the plan? And who was paying attention to what was happening across the whole group?

One very decisive, authoritative leader moved confidently ahead.

Unfortunately, they also left everybody else behind.

It reminded me of my pony-owning days, when I once watched a father leading his child and pony around a gymkhana course. The child fell off and Dad continued for another three jumps before he noticed.

There is a fine line between setting a confident direction and travelling so quickly that your people can no longer follow you.

Another participant spoke so softly that the rest of the group could not hear what was needed. When it was their turn to lead again, they experimented with using their voice differently.

Each round gave the group an opportunity to notice what had happened and adjust. They reflected on the pace, what people at the sides and rear had seen, what the leader needed to hear from them, and what the leader might need to notice to remain connected with the group.

The learning was immediate. People could feel the difference, observe the horse’s response and see what happened within the group.

When their communication or collective intention was unclear, the horse might simply stop. When the leader moved too quickly, the others had to run to keep up.

The view from the back

Some of the most interesting discoveries came from the people in the quieter positions at the sides and rear.

From there, they could see things that the person leading the horse could not.

They noticed whether the group was moving together. They could see when someone was being left behind. On a turn, those on the inside needed to slow down, while those on the outside had further to travel and needed to speed up. Without good communication, the people around the edges could easily become disconnected.

The participants at the rear also discovered that they affected the horse’s pace and direction, despite having no lead rope in their hands and not, ostensibly, being “in charge”.

Some of the quieter, more introverted people found their voice during the activity. Stepping back gave them information that the people at the front were missing.

This brought back something I learned many years ago at the Royal Military Academy Sandhurst.

During section and platoon attacks—teams of around eight and 30 respectively—the commander must stay far enough back to oversee what is happening. Their role requires them to maintain perspective, understand how the whole operation is unfolding and make decisions based on the wider picture.

It can be tempting to get involved, take over some aspect or “help”, but then perspective—and ultimately command—is lost.

I was once chosen as platoon commander for a live-firing exercise. I was honoured. Once live ammunition is involved, the directing staff choose someone they trust to keep track of everything.

I had to oversee the people, the plan, the timing, the direction of movement and everything happening around us.

At night.

In darkness.

With live ammunition.

My experience of troop command and squadron leadership taught me the same lesson over and over, in many different ways. If I wanted to understand what my soldiers needed to be well trained, effective, feel proud and thrive as a team, I needed to step back and see the whole picture, listening to perspectives from the most junior to the most senior.

Leadership often involves creating enough space to see what is happening, then listening to the people whose position gives them a different view.

And then the lead rope came off

Back in Pennsylvania, the groups reflected after every attempt.

They changed positions and took turns experiencing each role. Former leaders offered advice to the next person. The new leader talked the group through the intended route before they set off. People communicated more as they moved and began checking that everyone was still with them.

With each attempt, they became progressively more effective.

They seemed to become more alive.

To move as one.

Then the lead rope was removed from the horse.

They had to guide a now-free horse through the obstacles without touching it. Direction, momentum, attention and the focus and energy of the whole group became critical.

At one point, a leader fell behind and the horse headed off on his own. It could have happened to any of them, and it prompted another useful conversation.

Who could see what was happening? Who needed to know? How could the group slow things down enough to respond? What might the leader have checked before moving on?

There was no need to label what happened as good or bad. It was useful information. They could talk about it, change their approach and have another go.

This is one of the reasons I love experiential work with horses.

We can discuss communication, leadership style and inclusion around a meeting table. We may understand the theory perfectly well. It can be much harder to recognise our own patterns while they are happening.

Working with a horse and a shared task makes those patterns visible in an immediate and non-judgemental way.

The horse responds to what is happening in that moment: how clearly people communicate, whether their intentions align, the direction and speed of the group, and how well they remain connected with one another.

People can notice what happened, reflect together and try something different.

The feedback is immediate, and the learning is felt as well as understood.

Skilled coaching then helps the team connect what happened in the arena with life at work. Where does this pattern show up in your team? What changed when you solved it here? What might it look like to make the same shift in the workplace?

What might your team notice?

As I watched those groups in Pennsylvania, I found myself thinking about the questions this raises for teams everywhere.

• Can the person at the front still see the people behind them?

• Can everyone hear—and understand—where the team is going?

• Whose perspective is being missed because they are not the loudest voice?

• Who holds valuable information or insight but is not being asked?

• What are people noticing—and who needs to know what they have noticed?

• When the organisation changes direction, what happens to the people on the outside of the turn?

Sometimes the clearest view of leadership comes from the back of the herd.

You may know that I work with individuals, but I also work with leadership teams. For me, the two are deeply connected.

Just as in our individual lives, I believe that being a great leader begins with being who you really are: showing up fully as yourself and becoming aware of the thoughts, feelings and familiar patterns that can prevent you from doing so wholeheartedly.

Leadership also asks us to understand the effect we have on other people and the wider system around us. It requires the courage to lead authentically, the awareness to notice what is happening across the whole team and the humility to listen to perspectives we cannot see from where we are standing.

I now bring this experiential approach to leadership teams here in the UK. If you are curious about what your team might discover in the company of horses, you can read more about my work with leadership teams here - or get in touch to start a conversation.

Joanna