In the 1950s, schoolchildren were taught how to survive a nuclear attack.

When the siren sounded, they were told to drop to the floor, cover their heads, and crawl beneath their desks.

Duck and cover.

It looked organised. Responsible. Sensible.

It also wouldn’t have saved them.

But it felt like protection.
And sometimes feeling protected is enough to calm the fear.

We do something similar when we speak.

When the room is full.
When the lights are bright.
When a hundred pairs of eyes lift towards us and wait.

We look for something solid.

Something fixed.

Something to stand behind.

So we step behind a lectern.

It feels professional. Structured. Safe.

But here’s the truth:

Lecterns don’t just hold microphones.
​They build walls.

💡 ONE IDEA WELL

A lectern doesn’t just change where you stand.
It changes how you are perceived.

Stagecraft teaches us that distance alters power.

The further you place something between you and an audience, the more formal the interaction becomes.
The more formal it becomes, the less human it feels.

A lectern is not neutral.

It blocks your torso — the most expressive part of your body.
It anchors your feet — limiting movement and energy.
It narrows your eyeline — encouraging you to speak to the centre rather than the edges.

And psychologically, something else happens.

When you stand behind a barrier, your brain interprets it as cover.

Cover reduces vulnerability.
Reduced vulnerability reduces risk.
Reduced risk reduces connection.

Connection is built on visible exposure.

Open hands.
Unshielded posture.
Movement across space.

When you remove the barrier, you don’t just look different.

You feel different.

Your voice shifts.
Your gestures expand.
Your eye contact widens.

The room breathes with you.

I once watched a keynote where the speaker never left the lectern.
The middle third of the audience leaned in.
The rest slowly disappeared.

The lectern became a border.

And borders divide.

🧰 LESS MESS, MORE MESSAGE

You don’t have to swear off lecterns forever.

But you do need to decide whether you’re using it or hiding behind it.

Before your next talk, try this:

• If you don’t need notes, step away completely.
• If you do need notes, use a small side table instead.
• Move - even two deliberate steps change the room’s energy.
• Claim the edges. Look to the corners, not just the centre.
• If the lectern is fixed, stand beside it - not behind it.

That’s it.

Small shifts.

But small shifts change the geometry of the room.

And the geometry of the room changes the psychology of the room.

Connection doesn’t require theatrics.

It requires exposure.

🧭 ASK YOURSELF THIS

Before your next talk, notice where you stand.

Notice what you stand behind.

When the lights come up and the room settles, ask yourself:

A lectern isn’t the enemy.

Fear is.

And the only way to reduce fear in a room is not to hide from it.

It’s to step into it.

Out in the open.

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Speak soon,

Andy
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PS I’ve hidden behind a lectern more times than I care to admit. It felt professional. It felt safe. It wasn’t connection.

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