Sir Thomas More: But Richard…why not be a teacher? You’d be a fine teacher. Perhaps even a great one.
Richard Rich: And if I was, who would know?
Sir Thomas More: You, your pupils, your friends, God. Not a bad public, that…
This exchange is from the spectacular play, Robert Bolt’s A Man for All Seasons. ((This play should be required reading for every person who aspires to a position of leadership. Also, one might see the excellent movie. Why? The story is a reminder of the intriguing tension between duty and conscience.))In this scene, Thomas More is mentoring a young man who is ambitious and craves fame. More’s reply reminds us that even obscurity has its rewards. This came to mind last week after the Wall Street Journal ran a picture of me along with some of my views about the current financial crisis. Yesterday morning, I gave an interview to CNBC Europe here in London. All of this generates a gush of email, having less to do with my views, and more with my presence in the media.
When I signed up to become an academic, I accepted the likelihood that my professional impact would be limited in scope but perhaps deep with those people I taught. In fact, I did not merely accept, but actually liked Sir Thomas More’s conclusion, “Not a bad public, that…” Over the years, I came to know some CEOs who were both humble and spectacular. And Darden’s Batten Fellow, Jim Collins, found a relationship between growth leaders and personal humility. Some CEOs, like Reuben Mark of Colgate Palmolive, have been famously reluctant to talk to the media. With all this, I hesitated to fuss with public relations. But I responded to some requests for interviews, which begat more interviews, and so on. So here I am and there’s my picture.
In the midst of these developments, the question came to me: should public prominence matter to leaders?
There are some obvious reasons to answer “no.” In itself, celebrity is empty. There is no standardized test, no mastery required, no grades. The proof of this is Paris Hilton, who is famous, well, for being famous. Celebrity has personal costs. Fame intrudes on privacy and attracts crazies. The bulletproof cars, private jets, and bodyguards are not simply luxuries; they are necessities for celebs. But the resulting insulation sacrifices the feel of everyday life. Is this lack of texture a good thing for our leaders? I doubt it. Celebrity is a rapidly-depreciating asset. Andy Warhol claimed that everyone gets 15 minutes of fame. The irony in his remark lies in the brevity of the recognition. Jack Welch and Donald Trump have celebrity franchises that are sustained only with heavy ongoing investment. Then too, there is the kind of celebrity one would prefer not to have. Someone said that the only bad PR is an obituary. They were wrong. A range of folks (such as Washington lobbyists and presidential fund-raisers) seem to have a hard time avoiding the headlines you’d rather not have.
The worst thing about the model of the celebrity-leader is that it discourages the rest of us from leading in obscurity. At Darden we teach the importance of leading from where you are. The vast majority of managers toil outside of the limelight. Yet society depends vitally on them exercising the kind of leadership that will elevate their businesses and human welfare.
The chief reason why leaders might care to get into the public eye is to communicate a message that helps them fulfill a useful mission. I blog and give interviews because they yield opportunities to teach. At the end of the day, it is still the same old contract to me. I explain things as well as I can, and hope that someone learned from it. Large audience or small, I’m still satisfied that it’s “Not a bad public, that…”