A (Not So) Quick Question For Those In Charge

A (Not So) Quick Question For Those In Charge

What makes a leader? How do we find a good one, and/or how do we become one?

I pose questions like these often with little thinkers. The wee political scientists in front of me always have such insightful things to say, with a wonderful, youthful balance of idealism, optimism, and practicality that would make even Plato proud. They have a wide range of ideas for the sort of human they want to have in charge, and they know the kind of leader they aspire to be (if they aspire to it at all). A leader is brave. A leader is smart. A leader cares about others and wants to help. A leader takes action and fixes things that are not right.

They have their wish lists, and I have mine.

I wish we weren’t swimming in a sea of bloated, misguided “alphas” (and yes, I know the term has been sorely misrepresented in the human world). I wish that bullying wasn’t passed off as leadership. I wish philosopher kings/queens weren’t just something that comes up in a second-year university textbook. I wish leading by example was a thing, maybe even the thing. I wish leadership was something more than a commodity, that it wasn’t a badge we aspire to earn by going to expensive conferences, hiring coaches, and outfitting our houses with libraries of self-help manuals. I wish it were more than a look, an outfit we try on to elicit reactions.

I wish that I could come up with a definitive description of what I long to see in a leader right now, instead of just what’s disappointing (and scary) about our current paradigm. It is, as many have pointed out, much easier to sit on the sidelines and gripe than it is to step up and lead yourself. I’ll admit that, even though I have been a leader from time to time, and I’ve done okay with it, it’s not really where I’m most comfortable. I’m pretty Socratic, and I (naively) expect people to work things out for themselves, preferably using reason and empathy, and a good chat. I bristle at the thought of having to direct or make decisions on behalf of others.  

The closest I can get to figuring out what might work, what I long to see in a leader, can be summed up in a singular question I’d love to pose to anyone who steps into a role like this:

Why are you here?

I’m certainly not the first to ask it, of myself, or of anyone else in charge (cue thousands of years of political philosophy), but I think it’s particularly relevant right now. With so many huge fish to fry at the moment, I want to know what makes someone throw their hat in the ring, what they hope to accomplish, and what they have to offer. I’d like to see it asked at political debates, when the house is in session, and whenever there’s a press conference, or an interview. I’d like it asked loudly, repeatedly, doggedly, until the leader in question gets flustered and inadvertently coughs up their truth.

If forced to be brutally honest with us, and with themselves, what might our leaders say in response?

“A fat wallet” and “A heap of privilege” would be the answers, I suspect. “Someone told me I should” would likely follow, along with “It’ll plump up my resume”, “I want to stick it to so-and-so”, or “I don’t know what else to do with myself.” All of these are cringeworthy, but at least they’d be honest answers.

And what would we hope for? What would we listen for, amid the noise? What would constitute a reassuring answer?

“I want to help” would be acceptable. “I’m smart” would do the trick.  “I really do care” would be at least passable. “I’ve made stuff work before” would be of some comfort. Any of these answers, if they were honest, would connote at least a modicum of bravery.

Note that this is pretty much the wish list that a kid would give you (this is why I love doing philosophy with kids). A kid would definitely have the guts to ask something like “Why are you here?” of someone who had been tasked with running things and making important decisions. It’s something they could ask of themselves, as they try to learn collaboration and teamwork, and even more importantly, as they grow into the leaders we hope they will become. It might end up helping them decide that leadership isn’t for them, but that it’s still their job as participants in society to ask it of others. Asking this question in earnest would teach them about accountability, sensibility, and humility, which we are in short supply.

As for us grown-ups, it would, no doubt, help us to understand the people we’ve chosen to lead us. It would give us a clearer picture of their motivations, their objectives, and the depth of their understanding. And then, of course, we’d have to ask one more very important question, one that has just as much to do with ourselves as it does with our leaders:

Why do we want them there?