Framing Narratives

The room was heavy with silence, but not the kind that signals concentration. This was the silence of uncertainty, of doubt settling into the bones of a team who had followed the blueprint but found themselves at a dead end. The numbers told a bleak story—disengagement rising, resistance solidifying, progress grinding to a halt. The slide on the screen was a stark reminder:

79% of change initiatives fail within two years.

The strategy had been sound. The resources had been there. The effort had been undeniable. And yet, the change initiative was failing. Not because of poor planning. Not because of a lack of expertise. But because the story had already been written—by someone else.

A few glanced at each other. Others shifted uncomfortably. They had done everything right—followed best practices, conducted engagement sessions, structured roadmaps down to the finest detail. And yet, here they were, watching the same cycle repeat. They were not failing because they lacked intelligence, effort, or resources. They were failing because they had lost the battle before it had even begun.

They had failed to frame the story.

What most leaders don’t realise is that before a single strategy is executed, before an action plan is written, before the first speech is given, there is a contest already underway. It is the contest of framing, of defining what an event means before anyone else does. The leader who sets that frame first determines how everything that follows will be interpreted. Change itself is neither good nor bad. Its meaning depends entirely on how it is framed. And if the leader doesn’t frame it, someone else will.

There is an old Australian saying, borrowed from the gold rush days:

‘You make your own luck’.

It is a phrase that has driven pioneers, soldiers, entrepreneurs, and workers across generations. It is also an unspoken principle of leadership. The world does not organise itself into a story that makes sense. That is the leader’s job.

I’ve spent over two decades working with leaders and executives in commercial and non-commercial organisations—often stepping into rooms where the strategy was clear, but the story had collapsed. What I’ve learned is simple: the most powerful interventions don’t start with policy or process. They start with meaning.

The Battle for Meaning

Two leaders can face the same crisis and emerge with vastly different outcomes. Take, for instance, two business owners struggling through an economic downturn. The first tells his team that job cuts are necessary, that they are in survival mode, that the company must “tighten the belt”. His employees absorb the message and react accordingly—morale drops, trust erodes, fear sets in.

The second business owner, facing identical conditions, frames it differently. He tells his team that they are part of something bigger, that companies like theirs have survived worse, that this is not a retreat but a strategic repositioning. He invokes the history of the company, the resilience of their industry, the grit of those who refuse to fold. His team absorbs a different message. They see themselves as active participants in the challenge ahead, not as victims of external forces. Same economic conditions. Same need for tough decisions. But one frame breeds defeat, the other resilience.

This is not PR spin. It is not social media manipulation. It is an appreciation of how human cognition works. People do not experience reality in raw form; they process it through cognitive frames. And once a frame is set, it is incredibly difficult to shift.

Ask an Australian builder about the Sydney Opera House, and they might tell you it was a planning disaster, plagued by budget overruns, political infighting, and an architect who abandoned the project in frustration.

Ask a tourist, and they will tell you it is one of the most iconic structures in the world. The facts do not change, but the meaning does. Leaders must understand this. They do not just act upon reality—they define it.

The Anatomy of Commitment

People do not commit to spreadsheets. They commit to stories.

Contemplate a new infrastructure project rolling out across the country. One government official describes it as a:

‘Necessary adjustment to improve transportation efficiency’.

Another tells a different story, speaking of a

‘Nation-building effort that will connect communities, create opportunities, and define the landscape for generations to come’.

The roads are the same. The budget is the same. But the public response will be entirely different.

Australia has always been shaped by the power of framing. When the Snowy Mountains Scheme was proposed, it wasn’t just sold as an engineering marvel—it was framed as the defining national project of the post-war era, one that would transform the economy and create a new identity for a modern, independent Australia.

When Bob Hawke spoke of economic reform, he framed it not as bureaucratic necessity but as an act of fairness—an evolution of the Australian way of life that would secure prosperity for all. This is the role of the leader—not to manipulate reality, but to define its meaning in a way that unites and mobilises.

And yet, so many leaders frame their messages in ways that breed disengagement. A company restructuring is announced with phrases like “operational efficiency” and “streamlining resources”, as if people are problems to be solved. A merger is presented as a necessity, without any sense of shared opportunity. Change is delivered from the top down, with no invitation to participate.

But leaders who understand framing don’t just inform—they inspire. Instead of presenting change as a burden, they present it as a challenge. Instead of speaking in abstractions, they speak in the language of real people, real aspirations, real fears. They do not tell people what to do. They invite them into a larger story, one they want to be part of.

Attach or Detach

But framing is a double-edged sword. When used without care, it can divide as easily as it can unite. I was there when a Managing Director announced a new company direction and spoke of his vision, his strategy, his ambition.

The frame was clear—it is all about him! His needs. His wants. His likes. The employees were secondary. Even if the changes were necessary, and they were; even if the strategy was sound, and it was; the frame itself alienated very group of people he needed for successful implementation.

Compare that to the leader who speaks in terms of our future, our shared path, our opportunity. The facts do not change, but the sense of ownership does.

This is the critical distinction between compliance and commitment. A workforce that merely complies will do what is asked, but no more. A workforce that is committed will carry the vision forward on their own. And commitment is not created through demands—it is created through framing.

These are not just observations—they are patterns I’ve seen again and again across industries, leadership levels, and moments of crisis. In my work helping leaders navigate transformation, I began to see a consistent thread: it wasn’t the plan that succeeded. It was the narrative. That’s why I wrote The Outer Game of Leadership—to distil the exact methods leaders can use to define meaning early, build momentum intentionally, and prevent silent resistance before it begins.

Frames That Endure

A single speech can set a frame. But a truly powerful frame must live beyond the leader who created it. When Australian workers were asked why they showed up at dawn to build the Sydney Harbour Bridge, they did not say, “To assemble steel components.” They said, “We’re building something that will last a hundred years.”

When an organisation has an embedded frame, people no longer need to be reminded of it. They live it. They carry it forward without needing permission. And this is the real test of a leader’s framing. It is not whether they can inspire in the moment. It is whether, long after they have left the room, the frame still stands.

The Essential Choice

Every leader tells a story, whether they realise it or not. The only question is—who controls that story? Does the leader define the narrative, or does it emerge from the fragments of doubt, fear, and assumption that fill the silence? Is the story one of resilience, vision, and shared purpose? Or is it a story of imposition, confusion, and resistance?

Mastering narrative framing is not a luxury—it is an indispensable skill for leaders navigating uncertainty and complexity. In The Outer Game of Leadership, I walk you through the exact frameworks I’ve used to help executive teams reshape perception and recover traction mid-crisis. You’ll learn how to:

• Frame change initiatives to reduce friction and increase buy-in
• Craft messages that build shared ownership rather than passive compliance
• Turn disengaged teams into committed collaborators—without spin or empty slogans

This isn’t a book of theory—it’s a field guide to narrative power, grounded in decades of lived leadership work. You’ll learn how to craft powerful narrative frames effortlessly, design communication strategies that foster unity, and galvanise teams behind strategic change. The most effective leaders don’t just respond to events—they define the story that shapes reality. The insights in these pages will empower you to do the same.

Because those who master framing do not just describe reality. They shape it. They do not just lead people. They lead meaning. And those who fail? They had left their leadership to chance.

So, pause for a moment. What story is shaping your team right now—not the one in the slide deck, but the one they’re actually hearing? And if it’s not the one they need, how long can you afford to let that frame stand unchallenged?

The Outer Game of Leadership will show you how to shift that story—decisively, ethically, and with lasting impact. Because the teams that thrive aren’t the ones with the best plans. They’re the ones with the clearest meaning.