Fallible, Yes; Flippant, Never: The Essence of Leadership

As a witness to great leadership, there is one thing every leader I know possesses: An extraordinary degree of calmness during moments of crisis, in the midst, respectively, of a global financial panic and a surgical ward infused with urgency – a race not so much against time, as an attempt, by a commanding personality alone, to pause it – where burn victims, including children, lie on gurneys; their lives suspended in an indescribable state between the present and the brightness of a white light.

Extreme examples of leadership, yes, but practical examples just the same because, if you choose to be a leader – if you are an enterprising woman, you are already a member of this sorority – then you must be a model of calmness. For your actions will do more to inspire respect and loyalty than any words you can issue, no matter how loud you shout or how threatening you pretend to be.

Actions precede words; they are the prose by which we march, filled with the poetry by which we “shall not fail or falter”, the promise by a leader – and the resolve of a people – that we “shall not weaken or tire.”

I write these words on the eve of the seventieth anniversary of Victory in Europe, or V-E, Day, when, isolated and bombed by the terror attacks of the Nazis, with the English Channel patrolled and torpedoed by German U-boats and the French Third Republic ruined and enslaved, Winston Churchill’s words were an arsenal of democracy. His speeches will last a thousand years because his actions – his bravery in the streets, walking through the rubble to shake hands with the miners and bricklayers, and the old matrons and anxious mothers – are unforgettable.

I also write these words as, respectively, the former Managing Director of a genius financier, George Soros, and the spouse of a gifted surgeon, Dr. Richard Grossman.

The former has the calmness born of perspective, where, having seen his native Hungary invaded by Hitler’s army and then occupied by Stalin’s soldiers, and having seen – and been spared – the roundups and mass deportations, only to have then seen the beauty of Budapest befouled by the twin infernos of the Holocaust and Soviet tyranny, this boy would emerge as a man; having seen the worst of mankind, he would lead with the best traits of humankind.

Unflappable in hours of turmoil, with currency markets in a state of chaos and traders reduced from braggarts to banshees of doom and gloom, I would see George as the embodiment of cool. His example never ceases to inspire me because it is a reminder of the humility so many great leaders display.

As for Richard, whose memory I cherish across the veil of years, his leadership survives because of the patients who continue to thrive, thanks to his gentle touch and generous demeanor.

To the nurses and physicians who knew him, among the men and women who remember him, the image is incandescent: Free of titles, laurels and ribbons, and wearing a plain doctor’s coat (his name, sewn in cursive, above his left breast pocket) or green surgical scrubs, his character would enliven any operating room.

I see the calmness in his eyes, a Hawaiian blue like the ocean water at Lanikai Beach. A leader with those eyes speaks without saying, and pacifies a patient and reassures staff with a simple look. Those eyes – and that face, framed in desktop photos and regal portraits – comfort me still.

These two men show this writer, this enterprising woman, how to lead with dignity and act with authority.

With composure and vision, and free of malice and charitable by nature, we can be the leaders we aspire to be.

We can be the leaders we need to be.

We can be the leaders we are.

Elizabeth Rice Grossman