Illustration by Lars Leetaru depicting a stage with symbolic figures representing leadership lessons from Shakespearean plays.
For over a decade, from 1986 to 1997, I dedicated myself to understanding leadership. As the editor of the Currency book series, I had the privilege of engaging with visionary CEOs like Andy Grove of Intel and Howard Schultz of Starbucks. My central question to these leaders was consistent: What are the essential qualities of a great leader, and why are they so seldom found? Interestingly, even these celebrated figures struggled to articulate the essence of their own leadership. However, through private anecdotes and untold stories, a recurring theme emerged: leadership is intertwined with performance, role-playing, and a touch of theater.
One anecdote from Intel, concerning Andy Grove, particularly caught my attention. Grove, recognizing the potential in his reserved managers, initiated a program called “wolf school.” This seminar aimed to teach them how to project confidence, to argue assertively for their ideas, even if it meant feigning a fierceness they didn’t initially possess. The underlying message was potent: embody power, and you begin to command it. Amplify your quiet voice into a commanding roar.
This observation resonated with my encounters with numerous leaders. Paradoxically, many seemed most effective when they were, in a sense, inauthentic. It appeared their leadership strength wasn’t drawn from a deep dive into their ‘true selves,’ but rather from skillfully adopting and playing a role. Roger Ailes, in a 1988 conversation, encapsulated this idea perfectly with the phrase “theater of leadership.” Ailes, whose book “You Are the Message” I had recently published, understood the power of constructed persona. He, who shaped iconic phrases for Ronald Reagan, believed that a polished, deliberately crafted public image amplified a leader’s mythic presence.
The notion of manufactured image in leadership, especially from the future founder of Fox TV, known for its partisan figures, can understandably raise concerns. Yet, consider Ailes’s point beyond the political context: What if learning to intentionally play a role is a vital component of leadership development? What if this role-playing isn’t mere deception, but a training ground for internalizing beliefs and values? Cognitive neuroscience suggests that repeated actions reshape our brain’s neural pathways. Could embodying a leader on stage cultivate genuine courage, decisiveness, and sound judgment necessary for real-world leadership? Theater, after all, has long demonstrated its capacity to transform novices into convincing kings.
Of course, embracing a role too completely carries risks – overconfidence, arrogance, a disconnect from reality. This isn’t a caution against theatricality, but a call for thoughtful role selection. To truly understand leadership, one should immerse oneself in the narratives of great figures who navigated the complexities of power. This naturally leads us to Shakespeare.
The Eloquence of Prince Hal
The Royal Shakespeare Company (RSC) in England also recognizes the transformative power of playacting in shaping leaders. As they described in a playbill for a 2007 performance of Henry IV: Shakespearean actors, by convincingly embodying royalty through costume and speech, suggested “that leadership was a kind of performance that could be assumed by any gifted person, regardless of rank or experience?”
Intrigued, I journeyed to Stratford-upon-Avon, Shakespeare’s birthplace, to observe the RSC’s preparations for their fall season, centered around Shakespeare’s history plays. It was an invaluable opportunity to witness how directors and coaches guide actors in portraying historical leaders grappling with critical decisions and their consequences. What leadership insights could be gleaned from observing this process?
History reveals that influential leaders have indeed turned to Shakespeare for inspiration. His plays are studied in prestigious British legal academies. Queen Elizabeth I drew from Henry V before addressing her troops against the Spanish Armada. Thomas Jefferson visited Stratford, deeply reverent of Shakespeare’s legacy. Abraham Lincoln found solace and wisdom in reading Shakespeare aloud. Even today, Henry V is part of the Pentagon’s Legacy Project for leadership development.
My conversation at Stratford began with RSC Artistic Director Michael Boyd. Over a rather unappetizing lunch, I asked him: Which Shakespearean leader would you choose to be led by? His answer was Prince Hal, the central figure of Henry V.
Boyd explained, “Shakespeare explored diverse models of leadership – leading from the front, charisma, force. But in Hal, he depicted a leader who evolves, adapting to each new challenge. Hal initially rejects the responsibilities of his birthright, preferring a life of revelry. Why embrace authority when life’s pleasures beckon?” Yet, as Shakespeare portrays it, Hal is gradually compelled to embrace a more demanding and responsible role.
Prince Hal is born into a tainted legacy – his father, Henry IV, usurped the throne through murder. Haunted by this treachery, Hal initially distances himself from the court. Boyd notes, “Hal inoculates himself against the privileges of his elite birth. He rejects that world, yet ultimately accepts his inherited duty. He must relinquish his dearest life to become a worthy king.”
As Henry V, Hal transforms into a decisive and pragmatic leader. A pivotal moment is his ascension to the throne and subsequent banishment of his beloved friend and mentor, Falstaff. Boyd argues, “This act doesn’t diminish Henry V’s humanity. He remains aware of his flaws, his mortality, possessing a profound humility. He reconciles with his father before his death, then steels himself for the performance of kingship. A leader untroubled by the weight of power is simply not believable.”
Hal’s mastery of language is crucial to his leadership. He skillfully adapts his speech to connect with diverse audiences, yet always projecting authority. Alison Bomber, RSC voice coach, explains, “He has a spectrum of registers. He can speak the language of soldiers, of church officials. He can command with booming pronouncements, then shift to the gritty vernacular of battle.” Famously, Hal even adopts the persona of a tavern server to deceive Falstaff. In moments of potential death in battle, he delivers regal pronouncements that resonate with power and acceptance of fate – the speeches immortalized by Laurence Olivier’s portrayal.
When asked if he sees contemporary parallels to Hal, Boyd suggested Nelson Mandela, “because of his transition from opposition to leadership, maintaining his integrity throughout.” He also saw Hal-like qualities in Gordon Brown, then the UK Prime Minister, hopeful he would retain his “common touch.”
However, Boyd acknowledges that Henry V, while eloquent like Mandela, is not a purely virtuous figure. His war with France is based on a dubious claim, fueled by anger and nationalistic rhetoric. Yeats, studying Shakespeare’s histories, believed Shakespeare couldn’t truly admire Hal, finding him too calculating, a leader for magistrates, not poets.
For leaders facing conflicting demands, like balancing quality with performance metrics, Hal’s pragmatic perseverance offers valuable lessons. How to embody this? Boyd advises, “Fully commit to every part of the journey, even the contradictions. Embrace paradox. Self-doubt is fundamental to Shakespeare’s great leaders.”
The Sacrifice of Richard II
True leadership, then, isn’t about suppressing doubt, but integrating it into one’s resolve. Boyd encourages actors playing kings to embody vulnerability initially. “Begin with a bowed head, allowing the audience to sense the burden of leadership.” Credible leaders must then transition to vitality and power, a transformation that must appear authentic. Ultimately, Boyd states, “You must know your place at the top, and meet others eye to eye. That’s a king comfortable in his role – dramatizing the full spectrum of human experience.”
The most compelling leaders can confront their own imperfections. Boyd often prompts actors to recall moments of personal failings to build confidence. “Dramatize moments of utter incompetence,” he suggests. “Audiences often sympathize with the underdog, but vanity tempts us to hide our flaws. My role as director is to dismantle these inhibitions.” In rehearsals, he might challenge actors to perform embarrassing or demeaning actions, forcing them to confront their vulnerabilities.
Richard II, perhaps more than any other Shakespearean protagonist, embodies this complex, self-aware leadership soul. Yeats favored Richard II, a flawed, initially petulant ruler who ultimately relinquishes his crown. Boyd’s insight: “Become Richard II, but don’t play him as weak. Play him as strong.”
The play opens with Richard II’s abuses of power, banishing rivals and seizing their wealth, culminating in his deposition by Henry Bolingbroke. By then, Richard yields, recognizing abdication as the best course for the kingdom. He achieves a profound, wise humanity. Bolingbroke, now Henry IV, ascends the throne burdened by guilt and questioning his ambition.
Richard II, despite his flaws, attains a form of peace. Queen Elizabeth I, nearing the end of her reign, reportedly remarked, “I am Richard II, know ye not that?” Was this simply fear of assassination, or did she see in Richard’s example a self-possession that informed her own long and turbulent reign?
The Charisma of Cleopatra
Shakespeare’s later plays shifted focus from kings. Protagonists like Cordelia in King Lear are often young women who possess remarkable maturity, guiding and teaching the men around them about humanity and leadership. This shift may reflect Shakespeare’s personal life after the death of his son, Hamnet, leading him to spend more time in Stratford with his wife and daughters.
How does one portray a leader who is both deeply human and politically astute? Look to Cleopatra, the heroine of Antony and Cleopatra, considered by T.S. Eliot to be Shakespeare’s finest work. Witnessing Tina Packer’s portrayal of Cleopatra, both in rehearsal and performance, offered profound insights.
Packer, in her late 60s, defied expectations, embodying Cleopatra’s wisdom, maturity, and allure. Initially, alongside a younger Antony, Packer seemed to fade. But gradually, her presence grew, ultimately dominating the stage – the undeniable queen.
Her charisma was key. Cleopatra embodies leadership as a joyous, unconventional role. Harold Bloom called her “the most vital woman in Shakespeare.” Despite Roman conquest, she rejects despair, embracing pleasure and resilience. It’s no wonder Antony is captivated.
Cleopatra also possesses a keen understanding of loss. She represents Hellenic ideals of excellence, contrasting with Roman legalism. Antony, weary of war, seeks the Hellenic world Cleopatra embodies – a world valuing beauty, learning, and human connection. Cleopatra boldly champions beauty against the rigid rule of law.
As societies evolve, valuing mature female leadership will become increasingly crucial. As demographics shift, women, aging more gracefully and remaining strong longer, will increasingly occupy leadership roles. Often viewed as outsiders, even in positions of power, women frequently excel as leaders. They master governance, global affairs, and human relationships, managing their legacies with grace, like Cleopatra, while embracing life’s unpredictable nature.
Good-to-Great Leaders
Henry V, Richard II, and Cleopatra are compelling leaders precisely because of their complexity. Neither purely good nor bad, they transcend imperfections in service of duty, embodying what Jim Collins termed “good-to-great” leadership.
Alison Bomber, the RSC voice coach, distinguishes leadership styles through language. Shakespeare’s villains, like Henry IV and Richard III, employ “crunch phrases,” their language “tasting bad.” Benevolent rulers, like Henry VI, use “soft and open” language, full of vowels, lacking harsh consonants. They are perceptive but powerless.
“Good-to-great” leaders, transformative figures, require “courage, space, and confidence to start slowly and speak slowly,” says Bomber. “Time belongs to them. They even move slowly. Richard II speaks every word deliberately, taking in his surroundings, demanding to be seen.”
“Time,” Bomber emphasizes, is Shakespeare’s most crucial word, pronounced “time-uh” in verse. “Breathe deeply, from the belly. Exhale fully to naturally inhale deeply.”
Shakespeare’s greatest leaders, in their pivotal moments, are direct and vulnerable, not grandiose. In the RSC production, Richard II, stripping away regal attire, stands revealed – smaller, yet more luminous, accepting his human fate, a majesty beyond kingship. Audiences are drawn to this vulnerability, trusting leaders who present themselves authentically, even if that authenticity is artfully crafted.
The RSC trains actors to reduce physical tension, as audiences subconsciously mirror a performer’s tension. Relaxed shoulders and neck are crucial for audience engagement and trust. Bomber recommends “belly breathing” and consciously relaxing the jaw, as we often unconsciously clench it, hindering open communication.
In an increasingly complex world, we need leaders who value doubt, harmony, and beauty, not overconfidence. Leaders who understand the weight of power, yet wield it responsibly. We must cultivate these qualities within ourselves. Henry V, Richard II, and Cleopatra offer a vocabulary, a way of thinking about leadership. Perhaps aspiring CEOs should memorize these roles, reciting lines during interviews. For those who seek to lead, let these inner sovereigns reshape us.
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).
