Read the Room: Ways Leaders Destroy Trust in Seconds
After the 2023 AFL Grand Final, Collingwood coach Craig McRae was asked about Jack Ginnivan, who had gone to the races the night before the match and then had what might politely be called a quiet day at the office. McRae’s response was simple: “Read the room, Jack.” Within weeks, Ginnivan was on his way to Hawthorn.
It was a masterclass in leadership brevity. No 400-page review. No ‘stakeholder engagement framework’. Just three words: read the room.
It is a lesson the Albanese Government might now consider.
This is not a column about whether Labor’s budget tax changes are economically right or wrong. That argument will be fought by economists, investors, renters, Treasury officials and people who enjoy graphs more than is strictly healthy.
This is about communication. More specifically, it is about trust.
In the 2026–27 budget, the Government announced major changes to negative gearing and capital gains tax. Negative gearing is to be limited to new builds from 1 July 2027, while the 50 per cent CGT discount will be replaced by an inflation-based model, with a minimum 30 per cent tax on gains from the same date. Existing arrangements remain unchanged for properties held before budget night.
The Government’s argument is clear enough: shift incentives away from established housing, support first-home buyers and make the tax system fairer. That may well be a defensible policy.
But good policy can still be dreadful theatre.
And politics, like business leadership, is often won or lost in the theatre of trust.
The 2026 Edelman Trust Barometer has labelled this the age of ‘Trust Amid Insularity’. Not exactly a phrase you would embroider on a cushion, but it matters. Edelman describes a world retreating into smaller circles of trust, shaped by economic anxiety, geopolitical tension and resistance to difference. Globally, 70 per cent of people are unwilling or hesitant to trust someone with different values, facts, problem-solving approaches or cultural background. In Australia, that figure has been reported at 73 per cent.
In plain English, insularity means closing in. People become more suspicious, more defensive and less willing to accept change from outside their familiar circle.
That is the room.
And in that room, surprise is dangerous.
We are seeing the same mood across politics. The promise of certainty, belonging and “our people first” is booming like a sausage sizzle outside Bunnings. One Nation’s polling surge has moved from fringe curiosity to a serious strategic problem for the major parties. In the United States, Donald Trump did not so much move towards the mainstream as drag the mainstream towards him. In the United Kingdom, Nigel Farage has remained remarkably consistent while the political weather has moved in his direction.
The point is not that these figures are alike. They are not. The point is that in an anxious age, consistency has political power.
Pauline Hanson may be many things, but vague is not one of them. You may reject her position entirely, but you cannot say voters do not know what they are buying. She has repeated the same themes for decades. In a low-trust environment, repetition can start to look like reliability.
That is the danger for Labor.
You cannot spend years reassuring people that you will not touch certain tax settings, then announce substantial changes and expect the public to respond like a grateful finance seminar. The ABC described the budget measures as a breach of faith with voters who had been promised the Government would not “tamper” with negative gearing or capital gains tax.
That word matters: faith.
Trust is not built by clever explanation after the event. It is built by alignment before the event. In leadership, the moment people say, “But I thought you said…”, you are already in trouble.
The Government may have the facts. It may have modelling. It may have a perfectly reasonable case. But in a mistrustful room, facts can be like serving broccoli to a toddler: noble, green and largely ignored.
The deeper problem is not the tax detail. It is the emotional misread.
Australians are already under pressure from housing costs, rent, inflation, interest rates and a general sense that the economic escalator is moving down while they are trying to climb up. Investors fear retrospective punishment. Renters fear higher rents. Young people fear another door closing. Business fears more complexity. Older Australians fear that the rules they built their plans around are being rewritten mid-game.
Whether those fears are fair is almost beside the point. Fear does not wait for a white paper.
In an insular world, leaders must do more than announce. They must prepare. They must signal. They must listen visibly. They must show continuity between what they said yesterday and what they are asking people to accept today.
Otherwise, the message becomes: trust us, we know best.
And that is exactly the wrong message for a room that no longer trusts easily.
For business leaders, the lesson is broader than politics. If you are about to make a major change, do not fall in love with the logic of your own decision. Ask first: what is the mood of the room? What promises have people heard? What expectations have we created? What fear will this trigger before the facts are even considered?
Because trust is no longer a soft leadership virtue. It is a commercial infrastructure.
Lose it, and every future message costs more.
Ginnivan has gone on to do very well at Hawthorn. Good for him. Sometimes a misread room is not the end of the story.
But for leaders, the warning remains.
Before you announce the policy, the restructure, the price rise, the strategy shift or the bold new idea that everyone in the executive team has fallen in love with, pause.
Read the room.
Because if the room has already turned, even the best argument can arrive wearing the wrong shoes.
Love,
Dr Louise Mahler