Good People, Bad Managers

Have you ever wondered why intelligent, well-intentioned people so often become frustratingly bad managers? Samuel A. Culbert’s Good People, Bad Managers: How Work Culture Corrupts Good Intentions takes direct aim at this paradox and exposes how the very culture surrounding management in America traps its most capable people in cycles of hypocrisy, insecurity, and ineffectiveness.

Culbert begins with a startling claim: bad management is not an exception—it’s the norm. Most managers operate within a cultural system that rewards self-promotion over substance, conformity over authenticity, and appearance over integrity. The result? A “force field” of expectations that turns otherwise decent, competent professionals into the kinds of bosses people love to hate. The book is not about villainous leaders—it’s about how even good-hearted people succumb to a workplace system designed to corrupt.

The Cultural Trap of American Management

Culbert diagnoses American work culture as inherently toxic for management. Managers are trained and rewarded to think in hierarchical, competitive terms, equating success with personal advancement rather than organizational efficacy. MBA programs emphasize performance metrics and profit maximization but not emotional intelligence or genuine people skills. For Culbert, this creates a generation of managers who know how to win but not how to lead.

He draws on decades of research and consulting experience—from General Motors to Procter & Gamble—to show that well-intentioned managers end up practicing what he calls “skilled incompetence”: they become experts at using deceptive, bureaucratic systems to hide inefficiency, avoid accountability, and preserve their image of competency.

Why Good People Become Bad Managers

Culbert explains that bad management rarely comes from malice; it comes from fear. In his words, managers are “good people behaving badly under bad circumstances.” They fear looking weak, losing control, or being punished for honesty. The very culture that demands “objectivity” and “professionalism” also forbids authentic self-expression and self-interest. As a result, managers hide behind jargon, hierarchy, and performance reviews—tools that create distance rather than understanding.

In one story, a mid-level manager writes an anguished email about working long hours to impress his superiors—only to find that his effort erodes both his marriage and his effectiveness. Another manager describes being berated by a VP in a humiliating interview, leaving a decade-long scar on his confidence. Such stories reveal what Culbert calls “the corruption of good intentions.”

Doublethink: Rationalizing Destructive Behavior

Central to Culbert’s argument is the concept of doublethink—borrowed from George Orwell—where managers convince themselves that manipulative, hurtful behaviors are actually in the company’s best interest. They rationalize self-serving decisions (“a rising tide lifts all boats”) and interpret control and competition as leadership. This mental gymnastics helps them avoid facing uncomfortable contradictions in their own conduct.

Culbert’s Warning:

“Managers don’t notice the damage their doublethink causes—the rationalizations let them override their sensibilities and still believe they’re practicing good management.”

The paradox deepens because the very language of management has become corrupted. Phrases like “we’re all a team” or “it’s just business” mask self-interest and competition. Culbert compares this to a Boy Scout helping an old lady across the street—not to assist her, but to earn his Good Deed badge. Good intentions become performative gestures serving self-image.

Breaking the Cycle: Culture Over Individuals

Importantly, Culbert does not blame individuals alone. He sees mismanagement as systemic—a product of cultural conditioning reinforced by reward structures, corporate myths, and professional fear. Even enormous investments in management training fail because most “reform” efforts treat symptoms, not causes.

He points to decades of failed reform attempts—from performance reviews to change-management programs—as proof of cultural resistance. True improvement, he argues, comes from “consciousness-raising”—acknowledging bad assumptions, confronting ego-driven systems, and replacing punishment-based accountability with what he calls “lessons-learned accountability.”

A Call for Human-Centered Management

Culbert’s solution begins with a mindset shift: management should be other-directed rather than self-directed. Good managers build trust, ask questions before issuing directives, and make their employees’ success the measure of their own. He insists that genuine human connection—not hierarchical control—drives performance and well-being. His call echoes themes from humanistic psychologists like Abraham Maslow and Paulo Freire and forward-thinking management theorists like Peter Block.

Ultimately, Good People, Bad Managers challenges not only how we think about management but how we think about humanity at work. The book argues that business success and human growth are not opposing aims—they are mutually dependent. And unless we reform our cultural expectations, good people will continue becoming bad managers in a system designed to make empathy look like weakness.

Culbert’s notion of doublethink is both psychological and cultural—it’s the invisible glue that holds bad management together. Just as Orwell described citizens believing contradictory truths, managers convince themselves that their harmful behaviors are necessary for company success. This internal contradiction lets them act destructively while maintaining the illusion of being virtuous professionals.

How Managers Rationalize Bad Behavior

For example, Culbert retells how managers use the “rising tide” metaphor to justify self-serving leadership. A boss might claim, “If I succeed, my team succeeds,” ignoring that his directives suppress creativity and self-expression. They equate supervision with control and mistake compliance for collaboration.

He likens this to his Boy Scout metaphor: a well-intentioned scout helps an old woman cross the street—but in his own direction, not hers. Managers similarly mistake their pursuit of personal recognition for altruism. Their “help” often suits their own ambitions rather than employees’ genuine needs.

The Psychology Behind Doublethink

This self-deception arises from fear and insecurity. Managers long to appear objective and competent, which the corporate culture equates with strength. When mistakes occur, they turn to blame instead of learning. Culbert calls this dependency on punishment-based accountability one of the most corrosive forces in management.

Key Point:

Doublethink becomes a coping mechanism—allowing managers to align self-interest with company ideals without having to reconcile the moral contradictions involved.

Breaking the Spell

To eliminate doublethink, managers must embrace self-awareness and authentic dialogue. Culbert advocates replacing punishment with what he calls two-sided accountability: both employee and manager must learn from mistakes. This shift invites reflection rather than fear.

He also urges education systems and leadership programs to emphasize psychology and ethics—not merely metrics. (This idea aligns with Chris Argyris’s concept of “learning organizations” and Daniel Goleman’s work on emotional intelligence.) Managers who learn to question their assumptions and engage humility instead of status-seeking are most likely to rehumanize the workplace.

One of Culbert’s boldest assertions is that objectivity is a myth. Managers pretend to be unbiased, rational actors—yet every decision is tinged by emotion, self-interest, and fear. The culture teaches that professionalism means suppressing humanity, but this repression breeds insecurity and dishonesty.

The Human Cost of “Being Objective”

When managers pretend to be objective, they hide their motives and feelings, making authentic communication impossible. Culbert compares this to playing chess blindfolded—everyone moves pieces, but nobody sees the board. Whether through performance reviews or polite “team” rhetoric, people mask genuine concerns behind corporate facades.

The culture’s obsession with objectivity also prevents empathy. Managers fear that showing vulnerability will make them look weak. Yet, paradoxically, this avoidance of emotions heightens interpersonal tension. Culbert urges managers to admit imperfection—to say, “I don’t know” or “I made a mistake”—because doing so builds trust, not diminishes authority.

Why Vulnerability Scares Managers

Culbert exposes how hierarchical systems and competitive incentives make vulnerability feel dangerous. Managers worry that any admission of uncertainty will invite attack from colleagues. They end up muffling creativity while reinforcing a tradition of pretense. He argues that this anxiety—being constantly watched, rated, and compared—makes managers feel perpetually unsafe.

True professionalism, Culbert says, isn’t hiding emotion—it’s using emotional awareness to make rational and compassionate decisions. (Like Brené Brown’s research on vulnerability, Culbert insists that openness leads to stronger leadership.) Removing the myth of objectivity is the first step toward managing with integrity, rather than imitation.

Culbert spends an entire section detailing how managers survive in toxic cultures through self-protective routines and political gamesmanship. These are not random bad habits—they are psychological guardrails managers construct to avoid exposure, blame, or vulnerability.

The Six Self-Protective Routines

• Groupthink: Cohorts agree never to criticize each other, creating superficial harmony while hiding dysfunction.
• Hardworking Overload: Managers feign busyness to avoid scrutiny and make criticism seem unfair.
• Team Player Image: They use cliché phrases like “We’re all in this together” while avoiding real cooperation.
• Fake Open-Mindedness: Pretending to seek input when decisions have already been made.
• Borrowed Authority: Invoking higher-ups (“Bill said we must do this”) to avoid personal accountability.
• Process Manipulation: Hiding behind fake “fair play” processes like committees to justify biased outcomes.

Through these routines, managers become actors in a bureaucratic theatre—performing competence and goodwill while protecting their own standing.

The Hidden Toll

These survival tactics erode trust and authenticity. Culbert compares the workspace to the Kremlin—filled with conspiratorial alliances and coded gestures, like General Motors’ “GM Salute” and “GM Nod” where executives deflected responsibility by pointing fingers or falsely agreeing to act. Over time, the accumulated deception creates a climate where honesty is career suicide.

“Managers spend so much effort pretending to be objective and good that they forget who they actually are,” Culbert writes. “Survival becomes the goal.”

The antidote is transparency and two-sided accountability—creating conditions where managers can acknowledge mistakes and employees can speak freely. Political games thrive on secrecy; genuine management thrives on shared reality.

Culbert argues that culture change doesn't fail because of bad ideas—it fails because of bad rollout thinking. Change initiatives often start with enthusiasm but ignore the emotional and cognitive baggage managers carry. To transform management culture, leaders must help people consciously unlock from the past.

Unlocking the Past

When adapting to new practices, managers cling to outdated mindsets—those that justified their previous success. Culbert warns against simply pitching “irresistibly good ideas” without addressing the erroneous assumptions beneath old behavior. Real change requires leaders to acknowledge what was wrong before, not just what’s right now.

He emphasizes humility as a leadership strength. When Apple’s HR tried abolishing performance reviews in 2000, managers reintroduced them within five years because the company failed to explain why the old logic was broken. Without intellectual and emotional closure, cultural viruses always reanimate themselves.

The Role of Leadership

Culbert insists that effective CEOs must take ownership of their organization’s mentality. He invokes leaders like Tim Cook and Louis Gerstner—figures who tapped authenticity and insistence to change norms. Culture won’t change until leaders model vulnerability, reward other-directed behavior, and define accountability as learning, not punishment.

Unlocking the past is emotional work. It requires acknowledging shared mistakes and showing people that imperfection is not failure—it’s a starting point for authentic progress. (This mirrors Paulo Freire’s insights about liberation through awareness in Pedagogy of the Oppressed.)

In the heart of the book, Culbert lists five cultural expectations that most prevent good management. Each is so ingrained that managers rarely see how destructive it is. Understanding and reversing these is the cornerstone of healthy organizational reform.

1. Immediate Accomplishment

The obsession with quick wins creates short-term thinking. Managers push for instant performance results—even at the cost of long-term growth or employee development. Cultures that value quarterly metrics over human capacity treat people like “human assets,” destroying trust and authenticity.

2. Objectivity

Pretending objectivity, Culbert says, is like pretending not to breathe—it’s impossible. The demand for dispassionate reasoning forces managers to hide human emotion and self-interest, breeding duplicity. A better model embraces respect for mutual subjectivity and open discussion, acknowledging bias instead of denying it.

3. Accountability as Punishment

Workplaces confuse accountability with punishment. Real accountability should mean learning. His concept of lessons-learned accountability replaces blame with mutual understanding—both employee and manager share responsibility for results and mistakes.

4. Perfection

Culbert sees the cultural obsession with flawlessness as dehumanizing. It prevents managers from acknowledging ignorance or imperfection. He uses examples from Presidents Bush and Obama, showing how refusal to admit mistakes leads to public distrust. Real learning begins with "I don't know."

5. Competitiveness

Internal competition—especially silo mentality—undermines collaboration. Culbert calls for eliminating discretionary bonuses that pit teammates against each other. True teamwork, he says, exists only when people share gratitude and outcomes collectively, much like cooperative organizations and ESOPs. Reversing these expectations is crucial to freeing managers from cultural traps and restoring authenticity to work life.

After dissecting culture’s resistance, Culbert offers two tools for reform: consciousness-raising for awareness and consciousness-raising for company gain. Borrowing from Paulo Freire’s liberation pedagogy, he encourages reflection and dialogue as paths to insight and transformation.

1. Consciousness-Raising for Enhanced Awareness

This inward practice begins with noticing emotional discord—moments when management behavior feels alienating. These are clues revealing hidden dysfunctions in corporate mentality. Culbert advises tracing these reactions back to cultural expectations, asking, “Why this, now?” The goal is personal clarity, not blame.

He urges managers and employees alike to question assumptions behind rules and routines. For example, when an employee hides distress after criticism, Culbert suggests exploring not just the event but the systemic mindset that made such criticism inevitable. Awareness leads to self-emancipation from toxic expectations.

2. Consciousness-Raising for Company Gain

The second approach extends reflection outward into action. Workers and managers share observations publicly to reveal unseen structural barriers. Culbert warns that this requires courage; systems often punish truth-tellers. He recommends using I-Speak, a technique of first-person honesty to express views without defensiveness or blame (“Here’s how I see it…”).

“People remember disagreements longer than alliances,” Culbert writes, urging mutual respect even during pushback.

Ultimately, consciousness-raising redefines leadership itself. True leaders open space for dialogue, welcome dissent, and treat transparency as strength. In Culbert’s vision, management becomes an act of humanity—awareness transforms both people and profits.