Comments on Clay’s post assured him that his presence remained valuable. One chapter leader of the International Association of Healthcare Safety and Security (IAHSS) gushed that a recent appearance by Clay was “the most attended event we have had to date.” Another commenter observed that preparing to speak “drives me to dig deeper into the topic, stay up to date on the latest developments, and learn something new so I can share it with others,” suggesting that the podium can be less an ego platform than a mechanism to galvanize, renew, and sharpen thinking.

It would be disingenuous to write this as a detached observer. Over the years, I have heard versions of these questions myself: How can I really be a practitioner if I publish, speak, and post so frequently, especially having entered the field through journalism and editorial work? The phrasing changes, but the implication remains the same.

Which is precisely why criticism — or critique — becomes more interesting when, rather than cast from the shadows, it is raised respectfully and in good faith as a bona fide leadership inquiry. This column promotes the discussion to that category.

Jonathan Del Castillo weighed in with comments addressed to the IAHSS community rather than commenting on Clay specifically, but his observations apply equally to the broader security profession and other expertise-driven fields. He offered the sharpest test: the line is crossed when “the value-to-visibility ratio flips; when people see you more often than they learn from you.” His concern is not prominence alone, but what happens when the same names begin to dominate the same conference circuits, standards discussions, industry publications, podcasts, and association ecosystems. At that point, visibility can harden into ubiquity, seeming less like contribution and more like self-reinforcing influence.

Del Castillo pushes the point further. Sometimes the backlash comes from practitioners who are delivering measurable outcomes while watching others accumulate recognition through prolific prose, regular keynotes, and what can seem like brand acceleration untethered to results. That frustration, he argues, is rooted not in jealousy but in suspicion that visibility is rewarded more than “stomping the concrete,” as he put it, or doing the day-to-day work.

That’s a pointed but fair critique, at least in some cases.

Every profession has its unmitigated self-promoters, security included. We often see the same magazine authors, the same keynoters, the same LinkedIn keyboard warriors, the same podcast voices.

And yet Mark Folmer, a noted industry influencer himself, offers an equally cogent counterpoint. When you have insight to share, he argues, share it. At a time when publication is no longer limited to journals and books but extends to immediate and short-form media such as LinkedIn, blogs, and webinars, the gatekeepers cease to be editors and become the audience itself. If conference organizers keep inviting the same speakers, people keep showing up, and the feedback is enthusiastic, then value is being perceived.

Or else, as Del Castillo suggests, it’s the same tight-knit audience caught in a self-congratulatory feedback loop.

Folmer’s most practical point may be his simplest. If someone seems too present, tune them out. In an age of infinite feeds, visibility is ultimately self-regulating. On LinkedIn, just click on “Not interested,” and the algorithm will oblige.

The “market” will speak once puffery trumps value. When visibility becomes “salesy,” overtly self-promotional or disconnected from authentic value, credibility plummets.

Security branding strategist Suzanna Alsayed, who has herself weathered criticism about visibility that seems as much about style as substance, frames the issue in distinctly modern terms. In today’s professional ecosystem, she notes, credibility is shaped not only by operational depth but by “narrative, presence, and personal brand.” A brand must “offer value and tell a compelling story,” she adds, “but there’s a difference between sharing your journey and repeatedly promoting your products and services.”

What some critics label overexposure may at times reflect not excess at all, but a mismatch between contemporary signals of authority and legacy expectations of who is supposed to look credible.

The ultimate question is simple: at what point does contribution become saturation?

The answer may lie in three tests.

First, do your appearances bring new evidence, sharper questions, and fresher perspectives?

Second, does your visibility still primarily serve your team, institution, and profession, or just yourself?

Third, are you using your platform to advance and give voice to others?

Thought leadership becomes corrosive not when it is frequent, but when frequency outpaces renewal.

In the end, visibility should remain what it was meant to be: not a mirror, but a light cast outward in service of the mission.