What howler monkeys tell us about loud managers

If evolution had a sense of humor – its favorite punchline might be the howler monkeys. These tree-top vocalists are nature’s rock stars: dramatic, loud and convinced that volume equals value. They don’t just make noise; they make statements. According to a 2015 Cambridge University study, however, these jungle divas pay a hilarious biological price.

The louder male howler monkeys’ call, the smaller his… family jewels.

Yes, Mother Nature implemented a performance-for-package exchange deal. Somewhere in the jungle, a monkey probably shouted, “Check out my lungs!” and evolution whispered, “Sure, but you’ll pay for that.” The logic behind this evolutionary gag is resource allocation.

If you invest heavily in your throat’s version of subwoofers, there’s less energy left for other things – like, say, reproductive potential. Meanwhile, species that skip the excessive foghorn upgrades tend to have larger reproductive investments.

It’s biology’s reminder that you can’t have it all, even if you shout like you do.

Biologists say the booming calls help males impress mates and intimidate rivals without risking physical combat. A complete energy-saving strategy: sound formidable, avoid injury. That’s smart evolution. And, if you squint a little, smart management… or at least familiar management.

Loud managers in the corporate jungle

In my decades observing workplace wildlife, I’ve noticed a similar pattern. In the corporate version of the jungle, the louder the manager, the smaller their leadership depth and result-orientation. Some managers behave like howler monkeys wearing neckties – burning precious energy on hifalutin speeches, grandstanding presentations and emails so long they probably require instant archiving.

Take my former boss, a human resources vice president from forty years ago. With his military background, he treated the office like an ongoing parade drill. He barked orders with the precision of a general directing air strikes. He didn’t call you by your first name. He called you like he was announcing a court-martial.

One scowl from him could silence a room faster than three people consuming pizza.

Meetings under his command felt like endurance marathons. By the first hour, enthusiasm had evaporated. By the second hour, creativity had died. By the third, we were questioning our career choices. Ideas weren’t discussed – they were delivered from the mountaintop like stone tablets.

And yet, the louder he roared, the smaller his impact. Morale sagged. Results lagged. Initiative packed its bags and left for better neighborhoods. Watching him was like seeing a howler monkey on conference-call mode – full of volume, short on substance until he was demoted for incompetence.

Loud managers often invest more effort in appearing competent than being competent. Their favorite tools? Lengthy speeches, unsolicited thought leadership and boring meetings that should’ve been a three-sentence email. But as the howler monkeys demonstrate, high volume doesn’t equal high value.

Like primates, managers face the same trade-off: spend energy on noise, or spend energy on actual work. The talkative manager invests energy in theatrics; However, the quiet, competent manager invests in systems, skills and people. One consumes energy; the other creates it. And in the evolutionary contest of office survival, only one species thrives.

Intimidation vs influence

Howler monkeys use their vocal fireworks to intimidate rivals and attract mates. Loud managers use corporate equivalents: “Per my previous memo…” “As I’ve said repeatedly…” and the classic “Let’s think outside the box,” usually uttered by someone who has never once stepped outside any box, literal or metaphorical.

What they’re really saying: “Do not question my roar.”

Employees end up navigating noise instead of solutions. Much like rival monkeys dodging a deafening call, team members dodge unnecessary speeches, redundant updates and meetings with agendas longer than annual reports.

But not all monkeys roar. And not all managers need to.

Some primate species invest their energy in reproductive capability rather than acoustics. In the workplace, these are the managers who quietly build high-performing teams while the howlers are still clearing their throats. They ask questions instead of delivering manifestos.

They help employees grow instead of lecturing them into mental hibernation. They focus on long-term strength, not short-term spectacle. These quiet leaders do the evolutionary equivalent of investing in… well, capability. They think strategically, coach consistently and empower generously.

They understand that real leadership impact comes from decisions and behaviors, not decibel levels. And the results speak louder than any roar: stronger teams, streamlined workflows, fewer crises, higher trust and far less organizational drama.

Meanwhile, the loud managers burn themselves out maintaining their sound system.

The story of the howler monkey contains a beautifully simple management lesson: volume doesn’t equal value. Being the noisiest person in the room doesn’t make you the smartest, strongest, or most effective. It just means everyone else is waiting for you to finish.

True leadership is an energy-allocation problem. If you burn calories performing, you’ll have none left for actual leading – coaching, strategizing, problem-solving or building systems that prevent fires instead of shouting at them.

Quiet managers aren’t quiet because they lack confidence; they’re quiet because they have competence. In other words, competence, intelligence and contribution don’t need amplification.

Lebanese-American trader and author Ziad Abdelnour is right: “Work in silence, let your success be the noise.”

Rey Elbo is a quality and productivity enthusiast. Email your story to [email protected] or DM him on Facebook, LinkedIn, X or via https://reyelbo.com. Anonymity is guaranteed to all talkative managers with opposing views.