Over the years, I’ve come to understand both the power and the fragility of humility.
I didn’t begin my career with much of it. I began with confidence, and over time some of that confidence grew into pride.
I still cringe when I remember a conversation many years ago with someone on my team. He recommended using different software, and I held firmly to my position. So firmly, in fact, that our disagreement became a heated argument in which I rejected virtually every point he made.
There was sound reasoning behind my decision. Looking back, I might even make the same decision today.
But I would not lead the conversation the same way.
The decision wasn’t necessarily the failure. The way I handled the disagreement was.
And the consequences to the relationship were significant.
Learning to make room for others
Over time, something remarkable began to happen.
During conversations, I started hearing ideas from other people that were…good.
Sometimes really good.
And sometimes they were ideas I had never considered.
The more this happened, the more room I began making for other people’s perspectives. I learned that listening to another point of view didn’t diminish my own expertise. It expanded what was available to me when making a decision.
That realization changed the way I led.
Humility doesn’t mean thinking less of yourself
For me, humility became less about proving that I had the answer and more about genuinely valuing what other people could contribute.
I began giving credit freely to the people who helped produce successful results. Before making significant decisions, I considered who might have information or insight I didn’t have. When someone raised a problem, I became more interested in working with them toward a solution than defending what had already been decided.
Surprisingly, humility didn’t make me less confident as a leader.
It made me more confident.
I no longer had to be the person with every answer. My responsibility was to help us arrive at the best answer.
What humility made possible
That change mattered when leadership became difficult.
Over the years, I helped lead teams through organizational changes, process revisions, staff reductions, and periods of significant growth.
We didn’t always agree. We didn’t always get everything right. But increasingly, we struggled together rather than against one another to find the best solutions we could.
We became a team.
The fragility of humility
Humility isn’t something you achieve once and permanently possess.
Success itself can become an invitation for pride to return.
There’s an old story about a church that voted to recognize the humblest person in the congregation. The winner was given a shiny button proclaiming the honor. The congregation promptly took it back the following week—because she wore it.
That’s the trouble with humility. The moment we’re impressed with ourselves for possessing it, we may already be losing it.
Staying humble requires attention.
I’ve learned to recognize some of my own warning signs: complaining about others, making dogmatic statements that leave no room for discussion, or shutting someone down before they’ve finished explaining their perspective.
Those behaviors tell me it’s time to examine what is happening beneath the surface.
The strength of a humble leader
Humility doesn’t require leaders to become indecisive, surrender their expertise, or agree with everyone.
Sometimes the leader still has to make the difficult call. Sometimes the original decision really is the right one.
Humility changes how we arrive there.
It allows us to listen without feeling threatened, change our minds without feeling diminished, recognize someone else’s contribution without diminishing our own, and make a decision after hearing others rather than simply overpowering them.
That’s why I’ve found humility to be one of the most powerful—and most fragile—qualities a leader can develop.
It requires continual attention.
And it is worth the effort.