The Power of the Repost

I’ve been writing quite a bit on LinkedIn recently. Short pieces, long ones, things that sit somewhere between commentary and a conversation starter. They’re not all heavy, some try to be amusing, but I do try to make them useful. I’ve covered AI and where it’s heading, how we work with data and what we tend to get wrong about it, the odd piece on leadership and culture. That sort of thing.

I’ve tried not to be vague. I’m not interested in writing what everyone else is already saying. If it’s just a rehashed version of someone else's post, I leave it alone. I’m not here to post for the sake of visibility. If I’ve put something out, it’s because I thought there was something in it worth sharing.

And to be honest, I’ve been a bit deflated by what happens after I hit post.

Or rather, by what doesn’t happen.

The analytics show that people are reading. Not huge numbers, but enough to make you think, “Okay, this is getting in front of someone.” You see a little curve rising in the graph, you think maybe this one will catch on. And then... nothing. No responses. No comments. Maybe a like or two if you're lucky. But it fades fast.

It's a strange feeling, that kind of silence. It’s not rejection exactly. It’s not even disinterest. It’s more like being in a crowded room where everyone heard what you said, looked at you for a moment, then turned back to their drinks.

Meanwhile, and I think we’ve all noticed this, you’ll see something entirely different climb rapidly through the feed. A photo of someone holding a certificate with a short message about how grateful they are. A “delighted to announce” post about a new job. A “Proud and humbled” announcement about some award or other. A team selfie with three short lines about collaboration and purpose.

And suddenly it’s everywhere. Likes come flying in, dozens of reposts, hundreds of views in an hour. Comments from people you haven’t seen in a decade, all chiming in with the same three words. That kind of post lives for days. It doesn’t matter whether it was written in five minutes or fifty seconds. The attention it gets is immediate, visible and generous.

And it’s hard not to notice the difference.

I’m not saying those posts don’t deserve attention. Of course they do (or at least some of them). Everyone should celebrate their own milestones, and it’s good to see people doing well. But there’s something skewed about the fact that thoughtful, informative writing often sinks without trace while a snapshot of an award or a certificate generates a tidal wave of support.

That’s not LinkedIn’s fault, either. The system is doing what it was built to do. It shows people more of what gets reactions early on. If a post gets picked up quickly, it’s rewarded with more reach. If it doesn’t, it’s quietly shelved. It doesn’t matter how well it was written or how relevant it might be to someone else. It disappears anyway.

Which is why reposting matters more than people realise.

When you repost something, you’re not just boosting the writer’s confidence. You’re keeping the post alive a little longer. You’re putting it in front of people who might actually benefit from it. You’re helping ideas travel instead of being buried because they weren’t loud enough in the first hour.

And that’s especially important for those of us who don’t have tens of thousands of followers. Most of us don’t. We’re not famous. We’re not LinkedIn influencers. We don’t have a crowd waiting for whatever we write. So when something doesn’t take off, it’s not because it lacked value. It’s because no one gave it the little lift it needed to reach beyond the edge of the original post.

And I know a lot of people read without reacting. That’s fine. Not everyone wants to comment. Some people don’t feel comfortable engaging publicly. Some are reading while on a call or between meetings. But if something makes you pause, if you think it’s worth more than a passing glance, sharing it helps.

There’s also a habit I’ve seen, and I’ve probably done it myself, of only reposting things from people we already know. People in our team, or our sector, or those we used to work with. There’s comfort in reposting within your circle. It feels safe, you know how it’ll be received. But there’s a downside to that. If we only ever share what’s familiar, we end up going round in circles. Same opinions, same tone, same names. An echo chamber.

The people writing from outside those circles, often with something fresh or a bit more challenging, are the ones that get lost. And that’s a loss for all of us. Not just them.

If you’re reading this now, and you’re part of my network, that says something. It suggests you see some value in the connection. Whether that’s me personally, or one of the organisations I work with, or the work I’ve shared in the past. If that’s true, and you believe the articles I’ve written might be worth reading, then the best support you can give is simple. Repost.

Not for me exactly, but for the ideas. The ones that took effort to put together. The ones that aren’t dressed up in slogans or wrapped in the same tired phrases. The ones that might get lost without a nudge.

Reposting is not a huge act. It doesn’t take long. You don’t need to explain yourself or add a long caption. But when you do it, you make a difference to how information travels. And you show the writer that the silence isn’t apathy. It’s just inertia. One that can be shifted.

Without that, the people doing the heavier lifting, the ones writing about what’s changing, what’s uncertain, what needs thinking through, slowly start to pull back. They decide it’s not worth the time. And what’s left is noise. Updates, polished photos, perfectly worded announcements that melt into each other.

It’s easy to let that happen. Much harder to stop it. But we can, if we want to.

So if you read something today that made you pause, not just this, but anything that gave you a new angle, a clearer thought, a better question, don’t just move on.

Give it a second life. Share it.

That small act is what keeps this place useful. Otherwise, it’s just a sea of certificates, buzzwords and self-aggrandisement. And I think we’ve all had enough of that.