Why taking responsibility is one of the most powerful leadership tools you have

‘Fault’ is a funny experience.

It can feel like blame. Nobody wants to be at fault. Some people avoid it at all costs, seeing it as shameful or negative. Yet, paradoxically, fault can be uniquely useful — because how we respond to it shapes our lives and our leadership.

The conference that changed how I saw fault

I first encountered this idea at a business conference in London, at Regent’s College. It was late — around 7pm — and I was tired, sitting at the back of the hall on one of those hard plastic chairs that make it impossible to get comfortable.

The keynote speaker was Tad James, the NLP pioneer and creator of Timeline Therapy™. His session was on communication and excellence. I was listening but he said something that completely jolted me.

He began making statements about 9/11 — views that I found almost unbearable to hear. At that time, I worked for a global consultancy. Some of our people had been on those planes. I had been running a workshop in Italy for a pharmaceutical company when the attacks happened. Many of the delegates knew people who had worked in or near the Twin Towers.

So when Tad James appeared to suggest that people had made choices that day, I really struggled. I felt angry, even offended. In my head it sounded as though he was blaming the victims.

But he wasn’t.

He was challenging us to think differently about responsibility — about the way choices, even unconscious ones, create outcomes.

At the time, I wanted to reject everything he said. Yet a part of my mind, (the one that plays devil’s advocate), wouldn’t let it go. It took me back to an experience I’d had years earlier that tested my understanding of responsibility in a very personal way.

The accident

It was 31 March 1997, a cold, sunny morning on the hills near Biggin Hill. My wife, Maggie, and I were out paragliding with a group of others. She was training at one end of the ridge, and I was launching from the other — experienced, qualified, and confident.

The conditions looked perfect: the sun was warming the air, there was a steady breeze blowing up the slope, and I had done all my checks. Yet something in me hesitated. The ground was damp from the overnight frost. I couldn’t shake the sense that something wasn’t right.

After a few minutes of self-talk, I pushed the doubt aside. I pulled up my canopy, steadied it, and ran down the hill. Within seconds, I was airborne — 80 or 90 feet up.

Then it happened.
I hit the edge of a thermal where the air was descending. In an instant, most of my canopy collapsed. I looked up and saw that only a handful of cells were still flying; the rest hung like a sheet on a washing line.

Training kicked in. I kept the open cells into the wind, and brought the others up to reinflate. But with one side of the wing flying and the other acting as a giant airbrake, I began to turn — fast. At altitude that’s recoverable. At 80 feet, not so much.

I remember the impact. Feet first, hard into the hillside. Then silence.

I lay there winded and in agony. My back screamed with pain. People rushed to help, including a pharmacist in the group who quickly took charge. The air ambulance was busy, so I was bundled into a standard ambulance and driven — slowly, bump by bump — across a ploughed field.

The pain was indescribable. Like toothache across every bone in my back.

The diagnosis

After scans, X-rays, and endless tests, they confirmed the damage: three fractures.

• L5 was crushed — “like a bowl of cornflakes,” the doctor said.
• L3 had a hole the size of a cricket ball.
• T6 had a clean hairline fracture.

I was lucky. Very lucky apparently.

East Surrey Hospital was a trauma centre for the M25. The senior orthopaedic surgeon was due to leave for holiday the next day but somehow fitted me in for surgery before heading off.

The operation went ahead. I woke up in blinding pain, hallucinating from the morphine. After a few days, I refused further drugs, desperate for any relief from the side effects. Guinness and prunes became my diet of choice for a while with the odd paracetamol.

After 24 days in hospital and learning the basics of walking again, I was sent home with a brace and strict instructions. My right leg ached constantly. The hospital said it was sciatica. It wasn’t. A chiropractor later discovered that my foot bones had locked together in the crash. One quick, precise adjustment and the pain vanished instantly. But that was really painful aswell.

I wore the brace for months, walked awkwardly, and lived with stiffness and spasms for years. But I recovered enough to return to work, climb, ski, dance, canoe — and live life fully again. I met others who had not been as fortunate.

Responsibility, not blame

For a long time, I viewed the accident as something that happened to me. An unlucky event, outside my control.

But after that conference, Tad James’s words echoed in my mind. “You did buy that unstable second-hand paraglider. You did take off when you knew something didn’t feel right. You chose those things.”

Uncomfortable truth. It wasn’t my fault in a moral sense, but it was my responsibility.

Tad defined responsibility as “the ability to respond.”

That changed everything. When we blame others or circumstances, we hand away our power. We cast ourselves as victims of events. We convince ourselves there is nothing we can do.

But when we accept that we have some role — however small — in what happens, we reclaim our power to act. We step out of victimhood and into agency.

It’s not about guilt. It’s about freedom.

Freedom to learn, to adapt, to choose differently next time.

The leadership lesson

This mindset is fundamental for leaders. When we stop blaming and start owning, we open the door to growth.

Leaders who take responsibility build credibility and trust. They empower their teams because they model ownership rather than deflection. They ask, “What can I do differently?” instead of “Who’s to blame?”

In mentoring, I often see this shift as a turning point for business owners. The moment they move from externalising problems — “the market,” “the team,” “the economy” — to internalising agency — “what can I influence?” — progress begins.

Because when you accept that you are part of the cause, you also become part of the solution.

So, whose fault is it?

Maybe it is yours. Maybe it isn’t. But if you treat it as yours, you’ll have the power to change it.

You can respond. You can act. You can grow.

Be responsible – its life changing