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A friend of mine keeps bees. Every so often, I’ll head out to join him, fascinated by the hum of the hive and the astonishing order within those compact wooden boxes. What’s struck me over time is how often their world mirrors the challenges I’ve seen in workplaces and leadership. Isn’t it great that nature can offer profound lessons for how we lead. 

Stick with me on this one.

Last week, as we stood by one of his hives, he pointed out something serious: the queen was gone. At first glance, it seemed like the end. Everything had slowed. No new eggs, no direction, no order. In as little as two weeks, the entire colony could collapse. But here’s what struck me—there was no panic. No expectation that a saviour would swoop in from outside.

Instead, the bees leaned into something far more powerful: instinctive, collective intelligence. In what would seem an impossible moment for an insect society, they activated an emergency response that was as elegant as it was effective (Seeley, 2010). They didn’t wait for a ready-made replacement. They created one.

Here’s how it works: the worker bees identify several common larvae—not born queens, just ordinary ones destined for typical, short, worker bee lives. These larvae are chosen not for any visible distinction, but because the hive makes a decision: one of these will lead.

Then comes the royal jelly. A rare and potent substance rich in proteins, bioactive compounds, and growth stimulants, produced by the healthiest among them (Winston, 1991). This special nourishment fundamentally changes the fate of the chosen larvae. Her body transforms—she becomes larger, her ovaries develop, her lifespan increases nearly twentyfold. She is no longer one of many. She becomes queen.

What’s remarkable is this: she shares the same genetic code as the rest. The difference isn’t in her DNA—it’s in the care she receives, the focus of the hive, and the decision made in a time of crisis (Kamakura, 2011). She becomes a leader not by birthright, but by design. By vision.

It made me wonder: can the same be true for us? If you take an ordinary child, or an average employee, and offer them unwavering support, the right environment, nourishment—not of food, but of belief, mentorship, and opportunity—can they become extraordinary leaders?

I’ve worked in organisations facing crisis. Staff cuts. Restructuring. I’ve led during them, and I’ve been on the receiving end too. In those moments, it’s easy to feel lost. But the bees taught me something I haven’t forgotten.

Leadership is not a gift granted at birth. It’s forged—often painfully—when the stakes are highest. The bees do not despair. They act. They choose. They nourish. They transform.

And when the new queen emerges, she doesn’t simply resume operations. She restores order. She brings life back to the hive. The colony, once teetering on collapse, begins anew—more structured, more unified, more resilient.

This isn’t just about insects. It’s about us. About leadership in the real world. About organisations under pressure, and the human response to crisis. We often look for outside fixes—a consultant, a restructure, a new hire. But what if the answer, like in the hive, is already within?

Clarity in chaos. Action, not panic. Support, not abandonment. In the hive, a queen is not born. She is made. Through belief, attention, and investment at the exact moment it would be easiest to give up.

And maybe that’s the true lesson. That in both nature and business, the strongest leaders don’t arrive fully formed. They’re shaped by crisis, lifted by vision, and sustained by the support of others.

Because leadership—real leadership—isn’t a role. It’s a transformation.

References:

Kamakura, M. (2011) ‘Royalactin induces queen differentiation in honeybees’, Nature, 473(7348), pp. 478–483.

Seeley, T. D. (2010) Honeybee Democracy. Princeton: Princeton University Press.

Winston, M. L. (1991) The Biology of the Honey Bee. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press.