A Few Musings on Truth-telling and Leadership

I've been thinking about truth-telling, and beyond that, about the truth-related effects of what leaders say to others. Truth, defining it and getting a general agreement that it is present in interactions, are crucial in our world.

Some people in any leader's world feel very unsafe to the leader, because they have demonstrated that anything you say can and will be used against you. For a leader, being in a room with someone like that is unnerving. You may begin with the assumption that you're interacting with goodwill to all people. On the other hand, that person starts with the assumption that you are not, and hears everything in a context of suspicion and negativity. Operating in such an environment is a tricky and restrictive task, because as a leader you can end up listening to yourself through their ears and trying to protect yourself by watching every word you say. And then the second-guessing begins.

No, I am not paranoid. This is how it is.

Let me switch gears and explain from another direction what got me thinking about truth-telling. Yesterday I interacted with some kids who came by the office. Having been an elementary teacher and done my academic specialty in human development, I'm well aware that truth may be defined differently for children up through the age of about eight.

"I want to tell you something," said Boy. "I'm in first grade."

Well. I happen to be Mrs. Principal, and I knew he was in kindergarten.

Mom had overheard Boy's little announcement, and she popped in after he'd wandered away. "I don't know why he said that," she told me. "He's in kindergarten."

Boy overheard his mom, and he came by my desk a little later. "I want to tell you something. My Mommy is lying," he told me. "I'm not in kindergarten. I'm in fourth grade."

Feeling obliged to voice a commitment to Truth, I replied, "I don't think so. And I don't think that's very nice to say about your Mommy."

So I went home from work with the whole "truth thing" rolling around in the back of my mind. A little later in the evening I stumbled across the Democratic debate on the television. Hillary Clinton and Barack Obama were going at it, mostly respectfully, and much of the talk revolved around things they had said. Hillary had made up details in retelling a story about Bosnia. Barack had flung off an arrogant-sounding comment about people and how they relate to religion and guns. Both candidates were on the spot for the various ways in which they had dealt with truth, assuming all the rest of us can actually differentiate what that is.

I found myself feeling empathetic and sorry for them both. I only have a tiny taste, comparatively, of what it's like to have to use your words all the time, throughout your working days, in an environment where your words are analyzed, where they shape opinion and decision-making, and where they are liable at times to be picked apart. While the people around you can pop out with anything and not pay for it because their speech is expected to be completely protected (and I'm glad that even stupid speech is generally protected in our country), the expectation of leaders is that you are never allowed to stray one iota from defensible, verifiable truth. And by the way, it should be stated in terms that are acceptable to the hearer.

Sigh.

The problem is, leaders--at least those in my world--want to be truthful. But those moments come when you're tired either physically or tired of being under scrutiny, and something pops out of your mouth that surprises you. While an employee in my institution can wonder, "What on earth did I just say?", they can go on with little to no bump in the road. But leaders can have a "What on earth did I just say" moment, and it's too late. Your words are examined, repeated, and may chalked up against you.

I once talked with another leader about this. On rare occasion, he said, he found himself telling a story falsely. Because of the situation, his frame of mind, or whatever, the story came out as he wished it to have been, or as he needed it to have been in the heat of the retelling. His mind played a trick on him and he'd recognize that what he had said was a bit off what he knew to be reality. And then he was horrified. At such times, one wonders if they can be trusted with recounting an event, or if they're becoming people who cannot be truthful, whose accounts of events or circumstances should be consistently taken with a grain of salt because they're always twisted somehow. It's terribly unnerving.

And then there are those moments when you are feeling your oats, or tired out, or torqued by some situation or person, and you let fly with a sarcastic or ironic comment that you wouldn't otherwise voice. You might be kind to yourself about the incident, but others will not be.

This is what I perceived in these leaders who were debating last night, answering questions from Charles Gibson and George Stephanopoulos. And I really felt for these people who, regardless of what you may think of them, have more knowledge and experience in their field of work than either you or I, and must constantly employ their words while under scathing scrutiny.

It's a sobering thing.