A Global Leader: A Heart Able to Embrace the World, Part 1

The author planned to write this article in a week, but it ended up taking a month. The text kept rising like dough, so we had to split it into two parts.

Honestly, if it were possible, I think one could write an enormous book on this topic that would become a bestseller, because leadership has always touched people's souls. Perhaps one day you will indeed see such a book, but today we are glad to present the first part of the article, which covers these important themes:

• the leader as a role model
• the true meaning of a person in a leadership position
• why a leader needs to feel deep emotions
• a self-check against the standard of a leader
• an analysis of toxic leadership
• the process by which leaders are “born”
• cases of modern, successful leadership approaches in practice

Everyday reflections on leadership

My younger sister and I were sitting together once, talking about leadership. I asked her: as the boss, what would you do if guests were poisoned at your restaurant and started demanding financial compensation? How would you act as a businesswoman, as the person responsible for her own establishment?

She thought about it and said, hesitantly, that first you would have to find who was to blame — and that compensation is a doubtful matter anyway, because “maybe people just want to make money out of it”. In fact, this kind of thinking is classic for our mentality, and I have come across it more than once. To some extent I even understand why. Finding who is responsible is not a bad thing in terms of transparency of processes and analysis of mistakes, but when it turns into a hunt for a scapegoat, it becomes a problem that has a very negative effect on relationships within the team. The system of “public punishment” throws us back centuries, yet it is unfortunately still used in corporate circles. I have nothing against fines — provided that, first, they are reasonable and truly imposed on those at fault, and second, that they are paid voluntarily, without lingering resentment. Building a team like that requires a remarkably well-constructed culture, and most importantly — a good leader. Today we are going to talk about leadership.

So, should the compensation be paid or not?

A poisoning case is familiar to restaurants, but from the point of view of “customer satisfaction with the product”, it occurs in every niche. And it is interesting that even questions of business (or economics, or politics) are tightly interwoven with deeper reflections on honesty, justice and devotion. These words are usually used in conversations about ethics and morality — but are ethics and morality really sciences separate from life? In fact, they are firmly woven into any human activity, from education and technology to manufacturing and sales. Everywhere we are forced to ask ourselves: am I doing this for myself or for others? Am I bringing benefit, or destruction? And these questions become most painful when you are in a senior position.

So what is the right thing to do — pay the compensation or ignore it? Find and dismiss the person at fault, or give them a second chance? Recently a situation like this, with mass poisoning, happened in one Kyiv establishment. For me personally it became a model example of how a restaurant can come out of a crisis.

After the incident the owner did not start blaming the cooks, the administrators or the suppliers, although formally he could have. He publicly acknowledged the problem on Instagram, closed the establishment, began communicating with those affected and took responsibility upon himself as the owner. I think this is exactly what distinguishes a strong leader from a weak one: the latter looks for the guilty below himself, the former understands that employees' mistakes are also the responsibility of the system the manager himself created. He became an example of the fact that a real leader is not a person without mistakes, but a person who takes responsibility for their system and does not shift it onto others.

In a good company this works the same way as in a good family. When a child makes a serious mistake, a mature parent does not say: “it wasn't me, she did it herself”. He understands that the atmosphere, the upbringing, the rules and the culture at home are his responsibility too. It is the same in an organisation: employees act inside a system created by the leader. If critical mistakes arise within it, a real manager does not hide behind subordinates but takes the blow himself and changes the system so that it does not happen again. That is why a manager's responsibility for the team's mistakes is not weakness but a sign of mature leadership.

So who is a leader, really?

We use the word “leader” so often in everyday life that it has even lost its weight and turned into something ordinary — an element everyone supposedly needs in order to be happy, because you are meant to become a leader if you want to be at the top of life. Hasn't the concept become rather flat by now? A manager, a person with power, someone who has influence, someone who is listened to.

Now let us think more deeply: what makes a person a leader? What remains when you take away everything external — status, position, recognition? What is left inside that makes others trust them? What creates that invisible magnetism that makes people ready to follow, even when ahead of them lie uncertainty, risk and no guarantees?

So we return to the key question of this article: who is a good leader, really?

A caring, restless heart

Our reflections gradually begin to shift from external characteristics to the inner state. To that which is hard to measure and explain, but which is intuitively felt as true — to the level of the heart. We come back again to the concept of Shimjeong, which is not merely an emotion or a mood, but a deep quality of a person, their inner direction, their capacity to feel sincerely, to respond and, most importantly, to love. It is the state in which another's pain stops being someone else's, when you cannot remain indifferent even if, logically, it is “not your problem”. When a quiet but very steady feeling appears inside: I cannot simply walk past. Some call it sincerity, some call it empathy, some call it principles — but Shimjeong is all of these qualities together.

And here a question arises: why can some people calmly look at the suffering of the world — at wars, poverty, injustice — read the news and go on living as if it had nothing to do with them, while others feel it as inner pain, as something personal, as a calling, as a question that cannot be left unanswered?

Is it the consequence of problems in education? But there are plenty of educated people.
Is it a question of access to information? But there is more accessible knowledge today than ever before.
Or is it perhaps a question of the heart — of how open or closed it is, of whether it is alive or merely functioning?

It is precisely at this point that the discussion of real leadership begins — not when we speak about a title or a role, but when inwardly you can no longer be an outside observer, when responsibility appears not as an obligation but as a natural state. And this leadership gradually opens up another dimension, in which it begins to resemble parenthood — not formal, but deep and inner. The position of a true parent means not control and not power, but the ability to look at others as people you are responsible for, even if they do not acknowledge it, even if they do not expect it, and even if it is difficult.

Asking yourself honestly: understanding what you really want

And here an uncomfortably honest question arises: do we really want to be leaders like that, or do we perhaps only want the external result — influence, recognition, success — but without that inner transformation, without the price that real leadership demands? In the pursuit of the ego's illusory happiness, we become leaders who exploit their position, their power and other people's dependence on them, and we become those who “drain” love out of others.

We become leaders because we want to prove to others that they should not have bullied us. We become leaders because we want to prove to others that we were right. We become leaders because we want to take revenge on the one who hurt us. We become leaders so as not to be last in the spiritual food chain. We become leaders so that no one tells us how to behave any more. We become leaders so that history remembers us — because we need that, not history. We become leaders because we want something to remain after us, because deep down we are afraid that our life will burn out meaninglessly and unnoticed… We become leaders so that someone will tell us “you're great” and we will feel the taste of glory. We become leaders so that it flatters our ego, so that we can tell others “I was right”.

So that we are not used, we climb upwards in order to use others. So that we are not ordered around, we take higher positions, because we want to order others around. We want to be leaders, but on our own terms. It seems to us that we “always know better”. And it is sad that when arrogant people like this become leaders, a world takes shape in which the measure of success is how many people you have humiliated. This world divides into the clever and the stupid, into those worthy and unworthy of life, into humans and animals. This world divides into those useful and useless to me, into those profitable and unprofitable to me, into people and rubbish. We begin to live in a world where everyone feels like the main character of the play, and everything else is scenery. A world of individualists and egoists. Such a world can exist, but it is deprived of the most sought-after currency, deprived of the “oxygen” that is vital to us — love.

But perhaps, in order to lead others, we need to learn to listen to others and to obey? To be a good subject, we should learn to be a good object. To be a good teacher, we should learn to be a good student. To be a good boss, we should learn to be a good subordinate. To be a good parent, we should learn to be a good child.

A leader's greatest “enemy”

So, did the sentences I wrote above touch you? Because you have had a leader like that? Or because you disagree with something? If you disagree, I have bad news for you. All right, I'm joking.

But in truth, I think it is very easy to lose pure motivation in a moment of anger, blame and the desire to shift responsibility for mistakes onto others. And our own greatest enemy turns out to be a very corrosive trait — arrogance. Condescension, pride, haughtiness are all different shades of the same colour. The disrespectful “oh well, you obviously know better”, “do I have to explain it to you for the tenth time?”, “you could have understood it by now”, “you're just stupid, what can you do about it” — these are all inconspicuous thoughts that seem normal to us, yet they are toxic.

You wouldn't eat rotten fruit, would you? Then why do you offer it to others? “Maybe it's that person's problem, maybe they just take offence at everything?” I doubt it would be pleasant for you to hear such words addressed to you when the other person touches on something genuinely painful or traumatic for you, and instead of understanding and support they roll their eyes and blame you for it. You can hide behind an equally proud “it toughens people up, it's training, life is hard, so one day he'll thank me for my bluntness”. But what exactly should others thank you for? Are you teaching that person to overcome those difficulties in any way? The person is living on the edge of survival in these conditions and may survive, if they can. But as for you… are you doing anything at all to help them survive, apart from throwing more difficulties at them? Are you teaching them to overcome those difficulties, are you caring for them, asking how they are and how you can help? If not, then you are no different from the thousand other problems that person has. You are just another bully, and you are lying to yourself and to others that you are helping.

Criticising and voicing dissatisfaction from a leadership position… Some say that growth requires criticism. But how do you tell criticism from hate? Let us start by agreeing on definitions. Criticism is the analysis, evaluation and examination of the strengths and weaknesses of something (works, actions, ideas) in order to identify mistakes or improve quality. It can be constructive (aimed at development) or destructive, and it can also be open or hidden. Open and hidden criticism can each be constructive or destructive. Open and destructive criticism is analysis accompanied by accusations; open and developmental criticism is a calm conversation without reproach or ridicule. Hidden criticism can also be destructive (passive aggression) or developmental (hints at change).

Here again the concept of Shimjeong brings clarity. When our concern has selfish motives as its aim, criticism becomes destructive; when, on the contrary, it comes from the desire to help and care, to “give love”, it creates the conditions for growth. Any criticism without a heart of love is hate, and then it is worth calling things by their proper names.

Admitting that you are wrong is very hard. You can stand your ground and proudly say — “yes, that's just the kind of person I am”, or you can admit with a humble heart — “okay, I realise that my actions are destructive” — and apologise. Continuing to defend the position of “being right” can sometimes be a very disadvantageous position for you personally, because it will limit you in building trusting and sincere relationships, and you yourself will be haunted by the fear of being set up, of someone taking revenge and so on.

“To live casting no shadow” is a metaphor for a life lived according to the principles of conscience. Society holds false ideas about honest, conscientious leaders — for example: living by your conscience is unprofitable, because someone will inevitably walk all over you; it is the position of weak people who cannot fight for their own. The absurdity of such claims is that, judging by their results, such a worldview leads to loneliness, to blaming the Universe and to many other sad conclusions. You can watch the animated film “A Christmas Carol”, and everything will become clear.

When the student became the teacher

So, having examined many examples of destructive and healthy ways of leading others, I would like to highlight one of the important elements on the path of becoming a leader. As we have already mentioned: to be a good teacher, you should first become a good student. In any field, a teaching position that people may receive through nepotism or by chance, without the relevant qualifications, can lead to collapse. But a person who has walked the whole path from the bottom of the field to the top really can both do the job competently and understand all its subtleties.

Yet passing through “all the levels” is no guarantee of success either. I can serve out my time and still remain the same team member who irritates everyone with complaints, disrespect towards juniors and seniors, and insolence. I can have years of experience and an impressive store of knowledge behind me and still remain the most unpleasant colleague. Do you see what I mean? We come once again to the conclusion that, besides technical education, an education of inner qualities is needed — soft skills, values, the heart, call it what you like.

And what are those qualities? As we have said more than once: a good teacher was once a good student. He understands the heart of a diligent student because he was one himself. Everyone is destined to walk the path of growing up, and it is something you cannot skip or avoid. Of course everyone has their own pace, but the path itself is unavoidable.

So what is the most valuable trait of a good student? I think the benchmark can be found in quiet Buddhist temples, where wise monks bring up unruly children. Personally, I like the energy of monks. They are happy and at the same time sensitive, so they can empathise. At times they are cheerful, though serious; they are alive, interested in life and open.

In English there is a good word — “humble” — which means a meek heart, submissiveness. It is an elusive inner quality: listening attentively to a teacher as he passes on valuable knowledge. It is the desire to take in every word, to remember it, to keep it. It is the ability to acknowledge that an elder's experience matters, to admit that he is “genuinely right”. It is a skill that is in fact very useful, because in relationships it opens the door to a truly strong bond between elders and juniors, where the subject wants to keep giving and the object to receive. I will tell you that quite a few successful businesses today are built on such principles.

Real cases, not empty claims

In the book “Good to Great”, Jim Collins studied companies that became outstanding and discovered an unexpected trait in their leaders: they were not charismatic “stars”, but people of deep personal modesty. He called it “Level 5 leadership” — a combination of humility and strong will. The best managers put the mission above their own ego and do not think “I am a genius”, but ask: “What can I learn?” and “What is better for the cause?”

Another well-known book is «Blue Ocean Strategy» by W. Chan Kim and Renée Mauborgne. It is a worldwide business bestseller. A “blue ocean” is a market segment in which there is no competition, since no rules or standards have been established — in other words, a niche.
To create a “blue ocean”, a company must give up the proud desire to defeat all its competitors and instead listen carefully to people's needs. The authors call this: creating new value instead of fighting. This also correlates with the idea of being humble.

And the last bestseller: “The Toyota Way” by Jeffrey Liker. It is one of the best books about a culture of learning. Eastern culture: respect senior masters, learn from a mentor for years, first observe and listen, and only then propose changes. Japan has set an example not only through its process but through its results as well.

To be simple, sincere, willing to serve and diligent — students like that are valued everywhere. This is the first step in becoming a leader: to become a good student. In yet another book, “What I Know About Running a Coffee Shop”, I read about the owner of a chain of establishments who, when necessary, washed the toilets in his cafés himself, because he believed that the cleanliness of the restroom is the most accurate indicator of quality. I have personally met businessmen with the philosophy «I am not too big to do simple work», and I can say that you want to follow leaders like that naturally.

If sincerity and diligence raise no questions, the topic of willingness to serve often provokes the fiercest debates. Tolerance is perceived as letting people use you, obedience is perceived as an inability to express your opinion, and the wish to carry out the boss's instructions as sycophancy. Yet in all these traits there is a clear dividing line — it is Shimjeong.

If I do it out of a sincere desire to realise not only my own goal but also the goal of the enterprise — that is, of the manager — then in essence I am taking responsibility for achieving that goal.

Obedience does not mean blind agreement with everything. I may disagree and sincerely share my doubts, but without crossing the line of respect and deference. An obedient or humble heart is a conscious choice to follow and to be faithful; it is responsibility, and it is the privilege of “the son who receives the inheritance”.

To be continued…