The Raid
The dragon-headed longships emerged suddenly from the morning mist. Oars cutting hard through grey water. Shields hanging along the sides of the boats. Ravens circling overhead. Boots splashing through freezing surf. Then fire. Smoke. Screaming. Monks running from burning buildings carrying whatever treasures they could save before the raiders reached them.
The Vikings came fast and left faster.
Monasteries were stripped of gold and silver. Coastal settlements terrorised. Communities left staring at the smoke long after the longships had disappeared back beyond the horizon. The raids were brutal, efficient and devastatingly effective. Hit hard. Take what you want. Move on before resistance can organise itself.
Some modern transformation programmes have a surprisingly similar feel.
New senior leaders arrive promising bold change. Consultants appear speaking in an unfamiliar dialect of “strategic realignment,” “future proofing” and “operating models.” Organisational charts are redrawn. Organisational memory disappears. Teams are merged, centralised or quietly abandoned. Morale collapses whilst internal communications insist everybody should feel excited about “the journey ahead.”
Then the raiders move on.
In the public sector particularly, staff have lived through wave after wave of restructures, efficiency savings and transformational change programmes. Each arrives with urgency and confidence. Each claims to be different from the last one. Increasingly exhausted employees watch the latest longships appear through the mist wondering which parts of the organisation will still be standing by the end of the year.
Too many transformation programmes resemble raids: arrive loudly, take everything valuable, leave smoke behind.
The strange thing is that Viking success did not ultimately come from raiding.
The raids created fear. The legacy came later.
The Vikings who changed history were not simply raiders but settlers. They built trading routes, farming communities and towns. York itself carries the marks of Viking settlement. Their long-term success came not from burning communities down but from becoming part of them.
Modern organisations often confuse disruption with leadership.
Short-term cuts can produce immediate financial gains. Ruthless restructures can create the appearance of decisive action. New leaders can generate headlines, launch ambitious programmes and speak confidently about transformation. But organisations weakened by constant upheaval eventually lose something harder to rebuild: trust.
And trust, once burned away, is painfully difficult to rebuild.
Spending weeks together in a small wooden boat crossing dangerous seas required Viking leaders to understand their people properly. Not as “human resources” or boxes on a workforce spreadsheet but as individuals. They needed to know who was brave, who was cautious, who inspired others, who could navigate, who would panic in a storm and who could still be relied upon when exhausted, freezing and frightened.
Leadership was personal because survival was personal.
The Vikings believed the gods favoured courageous leaders. Odin sought wisdom not comfort. Warriors believed courage might earn them a place in Valhalla. Faith, loyalty and shared hardship bound crews together. Viking leaders understood exhausted, frightened crews do not perform well for long. Fear spreads quickly in confined spaces. So does confidence.
Modern workplaces are more complex than Viking longships. But many leaders remain surprisingly distant from the people they lead. They understand budgets, targets and governance structures better than motivation, anxiety, loyalty or exhaustion. Good people management is often treated as secondary whilst organisations wonder why cynicism spreads and trust disappears.
After enough restructures staff begin surviving rather than contributing.
Innovation feels dangerous. Initiative fades. People wait quietly for the next raid to pass. Every new transformation programme is greeted not with excitement but weary calculation about which teams will disappear next.
The irony is that the Vikings themselves eventually understood that permanent raiding was not a strategy for long-term success. Stability mattered. Communities mattered. Relationships mattered. Legacy depended on building something people wanted to stay part of.
Leadership that only knows how to raid eventually runs out of places willing to welcome it.
The longships disappear over the horizon whilst the smoke is still rising. So do many transformation leaders.
Blair McPherson former Director author and blogger blairmcpherson.co.uk
