Next to interdisciplinary, leadership may be Duke’s favorite word.
There are student leaders, faculty leaders, leaders of the leaders and even a whole office dedicated to leadership development in Student Affairs. I don’t think we’re trying to be subtle. We want to be leaders, and even more truthfully we believe that we already are leaders. But the narrative of leadership on this campus has always troubled me.
We and perhaps our whole society have increasingly substituted meaningful leadership with vanity and recognition.
The more I think about this issue of leadership, the more I come to the same conclusion. Leadership should not be about what position you hold on this campus, it should be about how much you are willing to work and sacrifice to make a difference.
Now, that might sound a bit cliché, and it is certainly true in some respects. How could we ever have such an express focus in this community on leadership yet simultaneously be missing the mark on what leadership is? Let me explain.
I like to refer to our current perceptions of leadership as social media leadership. That’s the kind of leadership best exhibited on Facebook whether through posting an article in the Chronicle that talks about how awesome I am or by how many likes I can get for a post in which I detail how I just published a paper or got accepted into some prestigious program. We’re obsessed by perception and how impressive we can appear not to just graduate school programs or potential employers but also our friends.
It’s the kind of narrative that exudes an insecure confidence in just how awesome I am as an individual, and how everyone who knows me should be in awe. Anything we can do that can be broadcast to the world, that looks prestigious or important falls under this mantra of what it means to be a leader. Inherent to the usage of social media is the necessity for outside approval, for likes and comments of “OMG you’re so AMAZING! <3.”
It is instant gratification at its finest. I do something, I tell my friends by posting a picture of me doing it, I receive likes and comments of affirmation and I feel happy. We’re so obsessed with receiving credit for our involvements and lives from our social circles that we seek out their approval for our actions rather than examine what impact those actions, and our broadcasting of them online have on others and us.
Think for a moment about someone you would consider a leader on campus. The picture of a president of a large student organization like Black Student Alliance or Duke Student Government might come to mind. Rarely, though, would I think of some Duke student who, despite not holding a position of influence, made a significant impact on an issue they care about on campus. There are students who do this on a daily basis—whether that is lobbying administrators to have food vendors donate their leftover food to homeless shelters or working to devise new strategies for improving the residential system.
Their work, though, is seldom given full-page articles in the Chronicle. We each individually have the capability to make change on this campus and in our communities regardless of class year or positions in an organization, but only if we’re willing to put in the long hours of work without any expectation of reward. That might be counter-cultural, but well worth the effort in the long-run for ourselves and our peers.
In essence, social media leadership embodies a title that perhaps reflects action, but rarely speaks of risk or failure. It tosses those things aside to project an image of perfection that is far from the reality of our daily lives. But that deodorized and glorified version of leadership gives us all a false sense of what success truly constitutes. Leadership becomes the overtly stereotypical effortless perfection in which success is all that matters and image is far superior to identity.
Now that we’ve examined the common narrative of social media leadership, let’s explore what it might mean to rewrite the perception of leaders on this campus.
For starters, take a step back. On a daily basis, we’re largely consumed with running from one meeting to the next, from one class assignment to another midterm and seldom do we take a moment to think about what direction we are heading. All those involvements and responsibilities are certainly important, but the constant pursuit of accomplishment can shield us from authentically engaging in something that matters to us. Reflection, like leadership, is another one of those buzz words I hear so much on this campus. Without it, though, we lose track of where we are going and fail to learn from experiences we have on a daily basis. If we want to be serious about developing leaders, we have to encourage taking a step back from the daily grind and learning to recognize where we are headed and why.
Perhaps the most important step we can take to rewriting the narrative of leadership at Duke is to drop the title and get to work. Simple concept, am I right? It doesn’t matter what position you hold on this campus, you have the ability to make change here, but only if you are willing to sacrifice your time and the consistent admiration of peers to do so. I am challenging us today to think about a problem we see around us and to act on it because we care enough to and not because we are seeking affirmation from an outside source. As philosopher Cornel West describes, “Visionary leadership is predicated on a leap of faith and a labor of love.” Risk and effort are necessary for exercising leadership. Email a relevant administrator to solicit feedback or contact a community partner you might want to work with. We have to begin to be comfortable with failure and delayed gratification, and getting to work on something you care about is the simplest way to begin.
Let’s begin to write a new narrative of leadership on this campus. Just like what I have been arguing for, change like this will take time and effort to make possible.
Even if it means giving up the recognition you deserve, every step of change matters much more to the lives of those around you than any form of self-gratification ever could.
Jay Sullivan is a Trinity Junior. His column runs every other Monday.
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