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The Ford Motor Company boardroom, late 1970s. Henry Ford II sits across from directors who are finally saying what they had been avoiding for months: some of his most trusted lieutenants are failing. Operational problems are mounting. Strategic calls are faltering. These are people Ford II has known for years. Some grew up inside the system. Others simply had his ear in ways no one else quite managed.
He promoted them well beyond what their track record could support. He valued loyalty deeply. Perhaps too deeply. The board pushed back. By then, the damage was done.
This is not unusual. Leaders trust their circle. They invest in people who feel familiar. They give second chances to those who have earned goodwill. None of this is wrong. The problem comes when trust becomes insulation—when loyalty to individuals begins to override evidence about their performance.
Favouritism rarely begins with malice. It begins with comfort.
Why we do it
Robert Cialdini calls it the principle of liking—we are persuaded more easily by people who resemble us. Similar humour. Similar schooling. Similar ways of speaking. The brain reads similarity as safety. Daniel Kahneman explains what happens next: fast thinking takes over, we feel first and justify later, and the story we tell ourselves is about merit even when the decision began with ease.
Lauren Rivera studied hiring at elite professional service firms and found that evaluators strongly favoured candidates from their own alma mater, weighting shared extracurricular activities—sports, clubs—as heavily as grades. When asked to explain their choices, evaluators reached for the language of “culture fit.” What they were actually responding to was homophily. The comfort of the familiar dressed up as strategic judgement.
What it looks like
I once worked with an exceptional founder. Visionary. Tireless. Fair to a fault. He had mentored a few young leaders early on—invested in them, defended them publicly when they stumbled. Over time, some of those protégés began making calls that harmed the organisation. Others could see it clearly. He could not. Or perhaps he saw it through the warm filter of shared history. In one leadership meeting, when a senior colleague raised concerns about a protégé’s judgement, the founder reframed it as a difference in style, not capability. His commitment to fairness made him doubly protective. To question them felt like betraying his own values.
This is how blind spots form. Not in darkness. In loyalty.
What the research says
There is data behind the discomfort. Field studies across industries show that managers systematically rate and promote people who share their background or style more highly. One large study found that demographic similarity increased the likelihood of favourable performance ratings by roughly a quarter.
Add the Pygmalion effect—demonstrated by Robert Rosenthal—and you have a reinforcing loop. Higher expectations lead to more attention. More attention produces better short-term results. The original preference appears justified.
Where it leads
Left unchecked, the pattern compounds. A large-scale study across tech companies tracked hiring decisions over time. Managers hired candidates who scored higher on “culture fit” assessments. Culture fit, it turned out, was strongly predicted by demographic and background similarity. Teams became progressively less diverse as each manager replicated their own profile. The researchers called it the “Mini-Me” syndrome.
High performers disengage quietly. Boards lose patience. Succession pipelines thin out. The leader’s circle grows smaller and more agreeable. Agreement begins to masquerade as alignment.
So what can a leader do without turning paranoid or cold?
- Track your attention
For a month, notice who gets informal time. Who receives quick replies. Who is invited into early drafts of thinking. Attention is the real currency of power. Mapping it makes the invisible visible. You might surprise yourself.
- Rotate opportunity deliberately
Assign one critical project each quarter to someone outside the usual circle. Do it publicly. Signal that growth is not reserved for the familiar. This disrupts the comfort loop and expands the bench. It also protects you from blind dependence.
- Separate loyalty from performance
In review conversations, ask yourself—in writing—what objective evidence supports this rating. When reasons are forced onto paper, instinct becomes clearer. Kahneman would approve. Slower thinking improves judgement.
- Name your loyalties aloud
In leadership team discussions, occasionally state who you feel most aligned with and why. This sounds risky. It is actually clarifying. When preference is acknowledged, others feel less gaslit by neutrality. It also forces you to examine the pattern. Make scepticism structurally safe by ritualising dissent—nominate a rotating “challenger” in major meetings whose job is to test assumptions.
The invitation
None of this requires self-flagellation. Favourites are not a moral failure. They are a human feature. We are wired for affinity. The problem is not that you have them. The problem is pretending you do not.
The invitation here is gentler than reform. Notice your comfort. Hold it lightly. Test it occasionally. Because what feels like loyalty at the top can quietly become fragility below.
Comfort is a beautiful servant. It is a dangerous adviser. And leadership, at its best, is about having the courage to see comfort and bias before they shapes the system.
