Why the Quietest Leader Has the Most Power

If you walk through a summer camp, you might have trouble spotting the person in charge.

They're rarely the ones holding the megaphone. They're not shouting directions or commanding attention. Instead, they're usually sitting in the dirt next to a crying camper. Carrying the water jug nobody else wants to carry. Whispering a suggestion to a younger counselor who's struggling.

This is the authority paradox: the more power you give away, the more power you have.

Jake and the Water Jug

Jake was fifteen when he became a Counselor-in-Training. His first summer with a title. He was proud of the shirt that said CIT on the back.

In the first week, Jake tried to lead with volume. "Line up!" he shouted at his group of seven-year-olds. They ignored him, continuing to chase frogs near the lake. "I said line up!" he yelled louder. One boy looked at him, shrugged, and ran the other direction.

Jake felt his face get hot. He felt powerless.

He looked over at Trevor, the senior counselor. Trevor wasn't shouting. He was crouching down next to the frog catchers, whispering something. The boys nodded. They stood up. They walked over and lined up.

Later, Jake asked what Trevor had said. "I asked them if they wanted to see a secret shortcut to the dining hall," Trevor told him. "And I said the shortcut only works if we move like ninjas."

Jake realized he'd been trying to push a rope. Trevor was pulling it.

The next day brought a scorching heat. The bunk was trudging up the hill to the archery range. A heavy orange water jug sat at the bottom. Usually, the counselors made campers take turns carrying it. Nobody wanted that job.

Jake looked at the jug. He looked at the sweating seven-year-olds. Then he picked it up, threw it over his shoulder, and said, "I got this, guys. Race you to the top."

He sprinted up the hill. The boys cheered and ran after him. When they reached the top, they didn't treat him like a servant. They treated him like a hero.

Two days later, one of the boys grabbed the jug before Jake could reach it.

For the rest of the summer, Jake stopped shouting orders. He started carrying burdens. He earned his influence. By August, he didn't have to yell "Line up." He just started walking, and the bunk followed.

The Science: Two Paths to Power

Professor Joe Henrich has spent decades studying how humans gain status, from hunter-gatherer tribes to corporate boardrooms. He argues that two distinct paths to leadership have existed throughout human history.

The first path is dominance. This is the primate strategy, how chimpanzees rule. The alpha leads through intimidation. He hoards resources. He instills fear. The troop follows because they're afraid of what happens if they don't. Dominance works, but the cost is high. The alpha must be constantly vigilant, win every fight, watch his back.

The second path is prestige. This is uniquely human. The prestige leader earns influence through skill and generosity. They share knowledge. They share resources. They help the tribe succeed. People follow not because they have to, but because they want to. They want to be near the leader to learn from them.

Here's the key difference: dominance creates followers. Prestige creates more leaders.

The "I Don't Know" Strategy

Lisa ran a tech team. She stood at the whiteboard like a general, solving every problem her team threw at her. She felt like the engine of the whole operation.

She was actually the bottleneck.

By answering every question, she had taught her team a dangerous lesson: they don't need to think. They just need to ask Lisa.

One day, the server crashed. A developer rushed in. "Lisa, the database is locked. Should we roll back the update or try to patch it live?"

Lisa knew the answer. The dopamine hit of being the hero was right there.

She bit her tongue. "I don't know," she said.

The developer looked stunned. He wasn't used to her silence.

"You're the lead developer," Lisa continued. "You know the code better than I do. What do you intend to do?"

He hesitated. Then he said, slowly, "I intend to patch it live. Rolling back will lose four hours of data. But we need to warn customer service first."

"Is it safe?"

"Yes. If we isolate the node."

"Very well."

He fixed the problem in twenty minutes. And he didn't look like a subordinate waiting for instructions. He looked like a leader.

The Invitation

This week, count the number of decisions you make. Then ask yourself: how many of them could have been made by someone else if you had just stayed silent?

The strongest leader isn't the one who makes the most decisions. It's the one who creates the most decision-makers.

Sometimes the most powerful thing you can do is pick up the water jug. Or simply say, "I don't know. What do you intend to do?"

About the Author

Matt Kaufman has spent 40 years in summer camp as a camper, counselor, and director, studying what makes people belong, grow, and thrive. He writes about intentional community, leadership, and the intersection of technology and human connection.

Connect with Matt:

• Instagram: @mattlovescamp

• LinkedIn: Matt Kaufman

• Website: ilove.camp

Books by Matt Kaufman:

• The Campfire Effect: How to Engineer Belonging in a Disconnected World (February 2026)

• The Summer Camp MBA: 50 Leadership Lessons from Camp to Career