In many of our institutions today, whether in workplaces or in public life, we have developed a habit of treating incumbency as a proxy for competence. The longer someone has held a position, the more entitled they seem to be to keep it. This tendency is so ingrained that incumbency itself becomes a kind of credential, often overshadowing the more meaningful qualities of experience, expertise, and demonstrated capability. Yet these concepts are not interchangeable.
Incumbency is simply the condition of already being in a role; experience is the accumulation of knowledge, skill, and judgement that makes someone better at that role. When we confuse the two, we create systems that reward people not for what they know or what they contribute, but for the mere fact that they are already there.
This dynamic is visible across professional environments and political institutions alike. In corporate settings, long‑serving employees often retain their positions not because they continue to innovate or adapt, but because they have become fixtures of the organisational landscape. In politics, incumbents frequently benefit from structural advantages such as visibility, established networks, and institutional familiarity. These advantages can overshadow the substantive question of whether they are still the most capable individuals for the job. The issue is not that older or long‑serving individuals lack value; many possess deep expertise that is indispensable. The issue is that our systems rarely distinguish between those who have genuinely grown in capability and those who have simply remained in place.
The issue is that our systems rarely distinguish between those who have genuinely grown in capability and those who have simply remained in place.
History offers clear examples of incumbency overshadowing experience. One often‑cited case is the repeated re‑election of long‑serving members of the United States Congress throughout the 20th century. Many incumbents enjoyed overwhelming electoral advantages, even when challengers possessed deeper subject‑matter expertise or more relevant professional backgrounds. Analysts have frequently noted that incumbents benefited from name recognition and institutional familiarity, while challengers struggled to gain traction despite superior qualifications. This pattern illustrates how incumbency can become a structural force that rewards continuity over capability.
Another example comes from corporate history. When Kodak faced the rise of digital photography, the company’s leadership remained dominated by long‑serving executives who had built their careers around film. Despite having engineers within the organisation who had pioneered early digital camera technology, decision‑making power remained concentrated among incumbents who were deeply invested in the legacy business model. Their incumbency, rather than the expertise of those who understood digital innovation, shaped the company’s strategic direction. The result was a failure to adapt, not because the organisation lacked experience, but because it rewarded incumbency over the expertise needed for a changing world. These anecdotes highlight a persistent myth: that time served automatically translates into mastery. While experience often correlates with skill, it does not guarantee it. Some individuals actively cultivate their knowledge, refine their judgement, and adapt to changing circumstances. Others simply accumulate years without accumulating insight. Yet both are frequently treated as equally “experienced” because our systems measure tenure rather than capability.
This creates a paradox: the people who should be valued for their expertise – those who have spent years learning, improving, and contributing – are lumped together with those who have merely stayed put. When promotions, leadership roles, or continued tenure are awarded primarily on the basis of incumbency, organisations risk elevating individuals who may not possess the depth of understanding required for complex decision‑making. Incumbency becomes self‑reinforcing because it creates structural advantages. In workplaces, long‑serving employees often have informal networks, historical knowledge, and familiarity with internal processes. These advantages can be useful, but they can also create barriers for others. Newer employees may struggle to challenge outdated practices or propose improvements because incumbents hold disproportionate influence. Over time, incumbency becomes a kind of protective shield: those who are already in positions of authority are more likely to remain there, not because they are the most capable, but because the system is designed to favour continuity over evaluation.
In public life, the advantages of incumbency are even more pronounced. According to widely reported analyses, incumbents often benefit from name recognition, established donor networks, and institutional support. These factors can overshadow questions of competence or policy expertise. While many long‑serving public officials possess deep knowledge of governance, legislation, and public administration, the system does not differentiate between those who have developed expertise and those who have simply benefited from structural inertia. Voters are encouraged to trust incumbents because they are familiar, not necessarily because they are the most qualified. This dynamic can discourage fresh perspectives while simultaneously failing to reward those incumbents who genuinely have decades of valuable experience.
None of this is an argument against older employees or long‑serving public officials. In fact, it is precisely the opposite. Genuine experience – earned through years of learning, adapting, and contributing – is invaluable. Older employees often bring historical context, nuanced judgement, and a long‑term perspective that younger colleagues may not yet possess. Experienced public officials may have deep understanding of policy, governance, and negotiation that newcomers cannot immediately replicate.
The argument is not that incumbents should be replaced, but that they should be retained for the right reasons.
If someone has spent decades honing their craft, developing expertise, and demonstrating consistent competence, they should absolutely be valued. Their experience is an asset. But if someone has simply remained in a role without growing, contributing, or adapting, incumbency should not shield them from accountability or evaluation. To build healthier systems everywhere we need to separate the concept of experience from the concept of incumbency. This requires shifting from time‑based metrics to capability‑based ones. Instead of asking how long someone has been in a role, we should ask what they have learned, how they have improved, what contributions they have made, and how they handle complexity, change, and uncertainty. These questions focus on substance rather than status. They reward individuals who have genuinely developed their skills and knowledge, regardless of how long they have held their position. Experience should matter. Older employees and long‑serving public officials often possess knowledge and expertise that cannot be easily replaced.
But experience must be earned, not assumed. When incumbency becomes a substitute for capability, institutions stagnate.
When expertise is recognised and rewarded, institutions thrive. The challenge before us is to build systems that can tell the difference!.
