When leadership is stripped back, what’s revealed?

Ian Laird had dreamed of sailing the Atlantic since he was a teenager. For decades, the ambition sat quietly in the background – deferred, waiting for the right moment. That moment arrived abruptly when a close friend passed away at 50. If he wasn’t making the time to do the things that mattered to him, he realised, it might never happen at all.

When the opportunity arose to join the opening leg of the Clipper Round the World Yacht Race, a biennial global sailing competition that takes amateur crews on a 40,000 nautical mile race across six continents on identical 70-foot racing yachts, Ian jumped at the chance. “I realised that if there were things I wanted to do in my life and I wasn’t making the time, the time wasn’t suddenly going to magic itself unless I was more proactive and committed to it.”

With more than 20 years of leadership experience including 13 years as CEO at Scottish luxury textile manufacturer Alex Begg and Company, Ian was no stranger to leading teams, but joining as crew demanded a different mindset. His turning point was personal, like many who choose to compete in the race.

That decision is a familiar one to Mike Miller. A former banker who has worked at Deutsche Bank, Actis and telecoms group Zain, he has competed in multiple Clipper races and led teams as a skipper. While Ian and Mike did not sail together, both drew leadership lessons from their own separate experiences of the Clipper Race — an event London Business School is partnering with and sponsoring this year.

“Most people go on this race at some inflection point in their life,” Mike shared. “For me, it was turning 50, and the kids leaving university. Quite a lot of people do try to go because they want to change something in their lives. But what you do find is that it just reveals who you are, more than changing you.”

A leader follows first, then leads

Committing to the race is one thing. Stepping on board and facing what follows is another. The moment you join the boat, hierarchy dissolves, Ian explains. Titles, seniority, and achievements held little weight against seasickness, fatigue and uncertainty.

“The process is humbling,” said Ian. “Seasickness doesn’t care what your title was, what your job was, what your income was, where you live. The waves and the wind don’t care.”

On shore, leadership often comes with authority. However, at sea, leadership is earned through competence and behaviour. “You can’t be a good leader and not also be ready to follow,” Ian reflected. “There are times when you’re in the right position to lead, and times when you’re not.”

Mike had seen confident professionals arrive from their corporate lives, only to find themselves beginners again. On a racing yacht, there is ultimately one person accountable – and that authority only works if the crew trusts it. “On any boat, there’s only ever one person who is in charge,” he said. Trust is built through calm, consistency, and contribution – not job titles.

Storms don’t build character — they reveal it

For Ian, the first major test came early in the Bay of Biscay, notorious for rough seas and unpredictable weather. As conditions worsened, progress slowed and the physical toll grew. “When I was in it, my experience was just, this is hard,” he said. Only later did he realise the skipper had altered course for safety, putting the crew before speed. “I didn’t realise someone was making it as good as it could be. We were actually going away from the wind.”

“There’s a time when it’s about pushing performance as much as you can,” he continued. “And there’s a time when you have to consolidate, take a breath, and make the environment better for the team.”

For Mike, this is the essence of crisis leadership. “The key thing is to take control of the situation,” he said. “Stop the panic, set a tone, and then work through the problems.”

Whether at sea or in business, leadership often lies in choosing when to push, when to pause – and recognising the difference.

Direction sets the course, commitment keeps you moving

Ian later distilled what he had observed into a simple leadership compass — direction, culture, execution, flexibility — held together by personal commitment. At the top sits direction: clarity of purpose and why the team is moving toward a goal. Aligning these motivations into one shared plan mattered more than who shouted the loudest.

Around that sits culture. With no personal space and relentless discomfort, expectations must be explicit. How do people speak to each other when they’re cold, stressed or tired? What behaviour is non-negotiable? At sea, assumptions break quickly.

Next comes execution. Sail changes, watch rotations and maintenance are unglamorous but non-negotiable. “If you want the boat to go fast, you have to do the work, to trim the sails, to set the sails, to get the performance,” said Ian.

Then flexibility. Weather rolls in, plans unravel, and strategy shifts at short notice. Leaders adjust course without losing intent. And at the centre sits commitment – proven less in calm seas than in hard watches. “One of the great questions Gavin, the skipper, had with us during the race was, you said you want to win – if that means getting up at two o’clock in the morning, in the middle of the night, when it’s cold and you’re not having any sleep, do you still want to be winning?” Ian said. “Everybody says they want to win when the going’s good – are they ready to take the commitment?”

Culture is behaviour, not a slide deck

On land, culture can be discussed in workshops. But at sea, it is lived. It shows up in tone, in how quickly frictions are addressed, and whether people pull together when conditions deteriorate. Ian was struck by how few interpersonal issues escalated on his boat. He credits early conversations, clear norms, and a shared understanding that conflict would be dealt with directly.

Mike had seen how easily tension grows when conversations are avoided. On a boat, minor frictions can escalate rapidly over something as trivial as a spoon or where a plate sits. He recalled crews getting into “incredibly childish squabbles,” and the power of stepping back to notice what was really happening.

What sea teaches that the boardroom can’t

Perhaps the most lasting learning is personal. Both men described the Clipper as a mirror rather than a transformation programme.

“It just reveals who you are,” Mike said. Ian agrees – the race sharpened his sense of priorities, choice and action. Decades of deferred ambition sparked his decision to join the race. Living it made the lesson harder to ignore: goals mean little without commitment.

When the boats dock, the learning doesn’t end there. Ian returned clearer about purpose and preparedness — in organisations and personally. Mike had seen crews return more grounded, more pragmatic, more conscious of their impact.

For Ian, another important factor was who the boat represented. “I was quite pleased to get LBS, because business can sometimes get a bad rap,” he said. “I do think business is a vehicle for good… a force for positive change in the world.” Since returning, he has become more intentional with his energy — supporting businesses driven by purpose as much as profit.

Leaders often search for new tools. The Clipper Race offers something older: proof that leadership is behaviour, not biography. When authority, comfort and certainty fall away, what remains is how you act. That is leadership stripped back — and revealed in its clearest form.

To continue the conversation on leadership beyond the boardroom, follow updates from London Business School’s Clipper Race partnership in the months ahead.