CII. How a Stoic Leads
Fight to remain the person that philosophy wished to make you. Revere the gods, and look after each other.
P.S: Most of you loved the previous entries on How To Deal With Toxic People & How To Negotiate.
“Make sure you’re not made ‘Emperor,’ avoid that imperial stain. It can happen to you, so keep yourself simple, good, pure, saintly, plain, a friend of justice, god-fearing, gracious, affectionate, and strong for your proper work. Fight to remain the person that philosophy wished to make you. Revere the gods, and look after each other. Life is short—the fruit of this life is a good character and acts for the common good.” — Marcus Aurelius
No one is going to pick you to be a leader. There's no big announcement or special moment when it happens. One day, you just notice something needs to be done—and you decide not to wait for someone else to do it. Not because you're the best. Or the most skilled. But because you saw the problem and felt it in your heart to help. This is how real leadership begins—with a discreet burden settling on your shoulders, which you don’t drop because you’ve come to accept that you're a grown up now. No one else is coming to save you or those you care about. You’re the one who won’t walk past the mess. The one who prepares during peacetime, when it doesn't make sense to do so. The one who chooses to be a symbol of excellence, the purple, or emerald Epictetus talks about—"that small part which is bright, and makes all the rest appear graceful and beautiful". And you’ll keep that standard whether the world cheers for you or not. That’s what makes it real.
It will be hard. Of course it will. But that’s no excuse. We weren’t made for comfort. We weren’t made to live padded lives, floating from convenience to convenience. We were made for the extra mile. Sometimes for self-sacrifice. For holding ourselves to standards so high they seem absurd until we meet them. That’s the beauty our soul yearns to experience in this earthly form. If we win—because we will—it becomes more than personal triumph. It becomes proof. Proof to others that it’s still possible to live well. To be great. To hold oneself with honor. To lead with courage and finish things properly. We become walking reminders that life doesn’t have to be shallow, doesn’t have to be cruel, doesn't have to mediocre. That’s the kind of story worth living for. Epictetus asks us,
“What would have become of Hercules do you think if there had been no lion, hydra, stag or boar - and no savage criminals to rid the world of? What would he have done in the absence of such challenges? Obviously he would have just rolled over in bed and gone back to sleep. So by snoring his life away in luxury and comfort he never would have developed into the mighty Hercules. And even if he had, what good would it have done him? What would have been the use of those arms, that physique, and that noble soul, without crises or conditions to stir into him action?”
But we don’t do this work alone. Nor should we. Part of leading is discerning whom we can trust, and then actually trusting them. We let go of control not because someone is perfect, but because we believe in people’s ability to be good and get better. We stop thugging out every burden ourselves, and start inviting others into the work. And yes, some will disappoint us. Some will make foolish mistakes. Some will act from fear, envy, or pride. That doesn’t mean we get to crush out and snap at them. If we argue with every fool, we become foolish ourselves. We lose composure. We waste energy. So we stop. We learn to correct with kindness. We give people room to fail, and chances to grow. We lead with patience and goodwill. Marcus Aurelius said,
“To feel affection for people even when they make mistakes is uniquely human. You can do it, if you simply recognize: that they’re human too, that they act out of ignorance, against their will, and that you’ll both be dead before long. And, above all, that they haven’t really hurt you. They haven’t diminished your ability to choose.” — Meditations 7.22
Because the people around us—they’re not just accessories to our success. They are our responsibility. When we lead, we don’t just get things done. We become protectors. Mentors. Big brothers. The ones others look up to for direction, in difficulty, in crisis. And when they look, we must already be standing. Already steady. Already ready. We tell them the truth when it’s hard. We believe in them when they’re doubting themselves. We tell them they can do more good. We don’t just lift ourselves—we also inspire whoever's willing to walk with us. Seneca wrote
“Associate with people who are likely to improve you. Welcome those whom you are capable of improving. The process is a mutual one. People learn as they teach.”
That’s why we get better. That’s why we build inner strength. Not to dominate. Not to show off. But because we’ve accepted the honor of taking care of the people around us. And that means empathy. That means learning to understand others—why they do what they do and work with them as they are. Listening and judging situations fairly before speaking. Studying what people need, and then offering it without strings attached. Because when we lead with understanding, we unlock their strength too, we become better humans. We make space for beauty to emerge from our collaborative efforts.
And still, we will get it wrong. We’ll misjudge. We’ll overreact and say what we don’t mean. We’ll fail. But that doesn’t disqualify us. It trains us. Every misstep is material. Every correction is proof that we’re still in the arena, still sculpting something worthy from this strange, fallible human clay. The strongest leaders aren’t perfect. They’re committed. Committed to improving. To admitting mistakes. To enduring the embarrassment of being wrong if it means becoming better. Marcus Aurelius put it best,
“If anyone can refute me—show me I’m making a mistake or looking at things from the wrong perspective—I’ll gladly change. It’s the truth I’m after, and the truth never harmed anyone. What harms us is to persist in self-deceit and ignorance.” — Meditations 6.21
This is what it means to be a Stoic leader. Not by merely being followed or winning an election, but by becoming someone worth following. You know right from wrong. You know the difference between duty and distraction. So you stay steady. You refuse to complain or collapse into self-pity. You don’t add weight to those around you unless you’re helping carry it. You give more than you take. And when you speak, it means something as Cato the Younger did when he said,
"I begin to speak only when I'm certain what I'll say isn't better left unsaid."
You also don’t need credit. You don’t need applause. That’s extra. Only the mission. The people. The work. So go. Do the good you know you’re here to do.
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I enjoyed all of your essay on how stoics lead. The line about leaders not being perfect, but committed, resonated. Your writing has helped me see that ‘getting things wrong’ is a natural part of growing, trying and learning. Many thanks for sharing.
Keep going. Keep failing and learning and seeking the truth. Get out of bed. Rise to the challenge as that is the point of life. Do not do what you do for praise. Do what you do because it’s the right thing to do. The right thing for humanity. If not you, then who?