For over a decade, from 1986 to 1997, I dedicated myself to exploring the essence of leadership as a transformative force in business and society through the Currency book series. During this time, I had the privilege of engaging with visionary CEOs like Andy Grove of Intel, Dee Hock of Visa, Max De Pree of Herman Miller, Phil Knight of Nike, and Howard Schultz of Starbucks. My central question to each was consistent: what constitutes a truly great leader, and why are such individuals so rare? It seemed a simple enough query, yet the answers were far from straightforward.
Surprisingly, even these highly accomplished individuals, the very CEOs who penned books on leadership, often struggled to articulate the secret to their success more effectively than an external observer. However, amidst the conversations, certain anecdotes emerged – often shared off-the-record – that hinted at a recurring theme: the significance of pretense, role-playing, and theatrical elements in leadership. One story from Intel, concerning Andy Grove’s leadership, particularly captured my attention. Grove mandated that his managers, despite their brilliance but often hampered by shyness, attend a seminar known as “wolf school.” Here, they were trained to aggressively present their ideas, even if it meant physically leaning into a superior’s space and projecting unwavering conviction. The underlying message was clear: embody power, and power will manifest. Even if inner confidence was lacking, the act of projecting it could be transformative. Learn to amplify your voice, even if it starts as a murmur.
Intriguingly, many leaders I encountered seemed to operate most effectively when they were, paradoxically, at their most inauthentic. It was as if their leadership prowess was forged not from a wellspring of innate self, but from the deliberate enactment of a character. Roger Ailes, in a 1988 conversation, provided a compelling phrase to encapsulate this phenomenon: “the theater of leadership.” This was shortly after I published his book, You Are the Message, a guide to impactful public speaking and media presence co-authored with Jon Kraushar. Ailes, then a prominent television producer and Republican campaign strategist instrumental in crafting iconic phrases for Ronald Reagan, believed that the more meticulously crafted and constructed a public persona, the greater its mythic resonance.
The notion of manufactured image and artifice in leadership, particularly when articulated by the future founder of Fox TV, a network known for its larger-than-life partisan figures, understandably raises concerns. Yet, irrespective of one’s political stance, Ailes’s perspective prompts a crucial question: what if the deliberate act of role-playing is not merely a superficial tactic, but a fundamental aspect of leadership development? Could this “theater of leadership” serve as a training ground for the inner self, fostering genuine beliefs and values through consistent performance? Emerging insights from cognitive neuroscience suggest that repeated actions can indeed reshape neural pathways in the brain. Thus, by consciously playing the role of a leader, one might cultivate the very courage, decisiveness, and judgment essential for effective leadership. The transformative power of theater, where directors can mold novices into convincing kings, underscores this potential.
While the potential pitfalls of excessive role-playing, such as overconfidence and detachment from reality, are undeniable, they do not negate the value of theatrical arts in leadership development. Instead, they emphasize the importance of discerning role selection. To truly understand the nuances of power and responsibility, one should immerse oneself in the dramatic experiences of kings, queens, and princes grappling with the complexities of leadership. And for this, there is no better guide than Shakespeare.
Prince Hal’s Eloquence: A Leader Forged in Performance
The directors of the Royal Shakespeare Company (RSC) in England, much like leadership theorists, recognize the profound link between playacting and character development in leaders. As the RSC articulated in a playbill for a 2007 performance of Henry IV, “Shakespeare and his fellow actors could display their own formidable abilities to don royal or ducal robes and speak the way kings and queens ought to speak; did this persuasive impersonation of royal authority hint that leadership was a kind of performance that could be assumed by any gifted person, regardless of rank or experience?” This question sparked my own journey to Stratford-upon-Avon, Shakespeare’s birthplace, to witness the RSC in preparation for their fall season, which included all of Shakespeare’s major history plays. It was an unparalleled opportunity to study power and performance firsthand, observing how some of history’s most compelling rulers navigated immense challenges of judgment and responsibility. What leadership insights could be gleaned from observing a skilled theater director and their team of voice coaches and dramaturges?
Shakespeare’s works have long served as a source of inspiration for great leaders, particularly in politics. His plays are integral to the curriculum at the Inns of Court, England’s prestigious barrister academies. Queen Elizabeth I herself transcribed passages from Henry V while strategizing her address to troops before the Spanish Armada battle. Thomas Jefferson made a pilgrimage to Stratford, reportedly even kneeling to kiss the ground. Abraham Lincoln frequently read Shakespeare’s histories and tragedies aloud to his companions. Even today, Henry V is among the core texts studied by military personnel in the Pentagon’s Legacy Project for leadership development.
My conversation with Michael Boyd, the RSC Artistic Director, began with a simple question: which Shakespearean character would he choose to be led by? This discussion unfolded during a rehearsal lunch, amidst a plate of unappetizing beets and stew. Boyd’s choice was Prince Hal, the central figure in Henry V.
“Shakespeare explored diverse models of consensual leadership throughout his career,” Boyd explained. “Leadership from the front, charismatic leadership, leadership by force. But in Hal, he depicted a leader who progresses incrementally, adapting to each new challenge. Initially, Hal seems to reject the very notion of authority, preferring the pleasures of life. Yet, the narrative compels him to embrace a more demanding and responsible role.”
Prince Hal’s journey is complex; he is the heir to a usurper, King Henry IV, whose reign is tainted by guilt and treachery. Hal initially distances himself from this legacy. “He has inoculated himself against the privileges of his birth,” Boyd notes. “He rejects the elite world, yet ultimately embraces his royal duty. He must relinquish his dearest aspects of life to become a useful king.”
As Henry V, Hal transforms into a decisive and pragmatic leader. His most controversial act upon ascending the throne is the banishment of his close friend and mentor, Falstaff. “This act doesn’t diminish Henry V’s humanity,” Boyd argues. “He remains aware of his own flaws and mortality, possessing a profound humility. He reconciles with his father before his death and steels himself to embody the role of king. Any leader who is not ambivalent about power lacks credibility.”
Prince Hal’s mastery of language is crucial to his leadership. Even centuries later, we can discern how Hal modulates his tone to connect with diverse audiences, each style projecting authority and purpose. “He possesses a remarkable range,” observes Alison Bomber, the RSC voice and text coach. “He speaks to soldiers in their vernacular, addresses churchmen with appropriate formality, and can unleash a powerful, resonant voice that commands authority. Even in the heat of battle, his language shifts again.” Famously, Hal even adopts the persona of a tavern server to deceive Falstaff. Yet, when facing mortal danger in battle, he speaks with regal dignity, embodying pure power and acceptance of fate, a moment indelibly captured in Laurence Olivier’s iconic portrayal.
When asked if he sees contemporary parallels to Hal, Boyd suggested, “Nelson Mandela, because of his transition from opposition to leadership. He maintained his integrity throughout. Gordon Brown [then the UK Prime Minister] also possesses Hal-like qualities, retaining a common touch.”
However, Boyd acknowledges that Henry V, while eloquent like Mandela, is not a saintly figure. His war with France was based on a dubious claim to the French throne, triggered by a diplomatic slight. His famous “band of brothers” speech, while stirring, is arguably empty rhetoric used to galvanize troops for a bloody and morally questionable war. William Butler Yeats, who studied Shakespeare’s histories at Stratford, believed Shakespeare did not admire Hal, viewing him as too calculating.
For leaders navigating conflicting priorities, Hal’s pragmatic perseverance remains relevant. How to embody this role? Boyd advises, “Fully commit to every stage of the journey, even the contradictory ones. Embrace paradox. Self-doubt is fundamental to Shakespeare’s great leaders.”
The Sacrifice of Richard II: Embracing Vulnerability in Power
Effective leaders, then, project confidence not by suppressing doubt, but by integrating it into their resolve. Boyd encourages actors portraying kings to sometimes appear uncomfortable in their roles initially, heads bowed, conveying the burden of leadership. However, they must then transition to embodying vitality and power, a transformation that must feel authentic. Ultimately, Boyd explains, “You must know why you are at the apex of the hierarchy and be able to look anyone in the eye. That is a king comfortable in his own skin, dramatizing the full spectrum of human experience.”
The most compelling leaders can confront and accept their own imperfections. Boyd often fosters actor’s confidence by prompting them to reflect on past misdeeds. “You must dramatize moments of glaring incompetence,” he states. “Audiences often empathize with the underdog, but vanity tempts us to hide our flaws. As a director, my aim is to dismantle these inhibitions.” In rehearsals, Boyd might instruct an actor to perform an obscene act or to deliberately demean another, forcing them to confront their most shameful aspects.
Richard II, perhaps more than any other Shakespearean protagonist, embodies this capacity to embrace vulnerability and complexity. Yeats considered Richard II his favorite Shakespearean character, a flawed leader who, despite initial petulance and self-absorption, ultimately relinquishes his crown with a degree of grace and understanding. Michael Boyd emphasizes, “The key is to embody Richard II’s essence, but not to portray him as weak. Play him strong.”
The play opens with Richard II’s tyrannical acts – banishing rivals and seizing their wealth – and culminates with his deposition by Henry Bolingbroke. By this point, Richard has ceased resistance, recognizing abdication as the best course for the kingdom. He achieves a profound, if melancholic, wisdom. In contrast, Bolingbroke, now Henry IV, ascends the throne burdened by guilt and the weight of responsibility, questioning his ambition.
Richard II, despite his failings, finds a measure of peace. Queen Elizabeth I, nearing the end of her reign, famously remarked, “I am Richard II, know ye not that?” While this may reflect anxieties about assassination, it also suggests a deeper identification with Richard’s complex humanity. Elizabeth, renowned for her steadfast rule amidst turmoil, perhaps found in Richard’s example a model of self-possession essential for navigating the burdens of power.
Charismatic Cleopatra: Leadership Beyond Kings
In his later plays, Shakespeare shifted his focus from kings to figures like Cordelia in King Lear and Cleopatra in Antony and Cleopatra, often featuring women who embody profound maturity and guide the men they love towards greater humanity and leadership. This shift may mirror Shakespeare’s own life experiences, particularly after the death of his son Hamnet.
How does one portray a leader who is both deeply human and capable of transcending petty politics? Cleopatra, the heroine-regent of Antony and Cleopatra, considered by T.S. Eliot to be Shakespeare’s finest play, provides a compelling model. Witnessing Tina Packer’s performance as Cleopatra, both in rehearsal and onstage, offered invaluable insights into this charismatic queen.
Packer, founder of Shakespeare & Company, took on the role in her late 60s, defying conventional casting. Dame Judi Dench, who played Cleopatra at 53, initially hesitated, fearing she would appear inadequate. Yet, both Dench and Packer demonstrated that age can enhance the portrayal of a female ruler celebrated for wisdom, maturity, and allure.
Observing Packer’s rehearsal, I was reminded of Hillary Clinton, another prominent female politician navigating public life with a high-profile partner. Initially, Packer seemed to fade into the background when the actor playing Antony took center stage. However, as rehearsals progressed, Packer’s presence grew, ultimately dominating the performance.
Cleopatra’s leadership style is defined by charm and a sense of joyous, iconoclastic freedom. She embodies the idea that leadership is a vibrant role to be embraced. As critic Harold Bloom described her, she is “the most vital woman in Shakespeare.” Despite her nation’s subjugation by Rome, she resists despair, finding humor in the pronouncements of suitors and courtiers, representing a culture of pleasure that persists even under Roman rule. Antony’s infatuation is understandable.
Cleopatra possesses a keen awareness of what she has lost and what truly matters. She champions Hellenic ideals of excellence for its own sake, contrasting them with the rigid legalism of Rome. Antony, weary of war, is drawn to this Hellenic world where beauty, learning, and family take precedence. Cleopatra embodies the courage to champion beauty and pleasure in a world increasingly governed by law and order.
As society evolves, institutions must embrace mature women in leadership roles. The aging baby boomer generation will see increasing power shift towards women, who often maintain strength and vitality longer than men. Despite facing outsider status, women in power often excel as leaders, adept at managing complex systems and human relationships. Like Cleopatra, they navigate statecraft, global affairs, and personal legacies while retaining an appreciation for the unpredictable vitality of life.
Good-to-Great Leaders: Complexity and Transformation
Henry V, Richard II, and Cleopatra are compelling leaders precisely because of their complexity. They are not paragons of virtue, but flawed individuals who, in answering the call of duty, transcend their imperfections without sacrificing their humanity. If Jim Collins identified “good-to-great companies,” these are Shakespeare’s good-to-great leaders.
Alison Bomber, the RSC voice coach, distinguishes between leadership styles through language. Shakespeare’s villains, like Henry IV and Richard III, are “wolves and predators” whose language is harsh and “tastes bad.” Benevolent rulers, like Henry VI, are “Jesus figures” whose language is “soft and open,” beautiful but ultimately powerless.
Good-to-great leaders, transformative figures who also undergo personal transformation, require “courage, space, and confidence to start slowly and speak slowly,” Bomber explains. “Time belongs to them. Great leaders even move slowly. Richard II speaks each word deliberately, surveys his surroundings, demanding to be seen.”
Time, Bomber emphasizes, is a crucial word in Shakespeare, often pronounced with two syllables: time-uh. “Breathe deeply into the body,” she advises. “People think inhalation is key to impactful speech, but true breath control begins with complete exhalation.”
In their pivotal moments, Shakespeare’s greatest leaders are direct and vulnerable, not grandiose. In the RSC production, Richard II sheds his regal attire to reveal a more authentic, radiant self, having relinquished earthly power to embrace his human fate, achieving a majesty beyond kingship. Audiences are drawn to such vulnerability, trusting leaders who present themselves authentically, recognizing that even artifice must tap into genuine persona to resonate.
The RSC trains actors to reduce physical tension, as audiences subconsciously mirror a performer’s tension. “Belly breathing, activating the lower abdominals, provides immense release,” Bomber explains. “Place your thumb on your belly button and flare your fingers downward. Exhale fully while saying ‘Fffff’ to release all breath.”
Bomber also highlights jaw tension. We often perceive our mouths as wider open than they are, unconsciously holding back. Releasing jaw tension enhances vocal projection and perceived openness.
As global pressures intensify, the world needs leaders who value doubt, harmony, and beauty, not overconfident certainty. We need leaders who understand the cost of power, are willing to wield it responsibly, and recognize the importance of human connection. Many aspiring leaders may initially underestimate these qualities within themselves, requiring practice and refinement to fully embody them. The characters of Henry V, Richard II, and Cleopatra offer a framework for understanding and cultivating such leadership, a way to articulate and internalize its essence. Perhaps, in the future, CEO candidates should be evaluated by their ability to memorize and recite key passages from these Shakespearean roles. For those who aspire to lead, let the inner sovereigns within us be awakened and refined.
Reprint No. 07402
Author profile:
Harriet Rubin ([email protected]) was the founding editor of Doubleday Currency. She is the author of The Mona Lisa Stratagem: The Art of Women, Age, and Power (Grand Central Books, 2007) and The Princessa: Machiavelli for Women (Currency, 1997). Her article “CEO Libraries Reveal Keys to Success,” mentioned on page 124 of this issue, appeared in the New York Times, July 21, 2007.
