Rethinking Leadership: Can We Demand More Empathy?
Here’s a question. What are your “green flags” for leadership?
Just like the online creators who talk about relationship “green flags,” what qualities would make you trust a leader? Would it be honesty? Empathy? The courage to care deeply? Or simply standing on principle? A stoic stubbornness. The strength of a military leader?
There’s been a lot of talk recently about the way politicians speak. “Word Salad” is a term that’s thrown around quite a bit.
Originally, the term “word salad” was applied to instances where language was disjointed, unfocused, or lacked coherent meaning — something that seems appropriate recently. But recently, it seems to have shifted its meaning. It went from describing truly garbled, incoherent speech to being used as a dismissal for any speech that might require a bit more processing or context. It feels like an attempt to level the field — an almost cynical way of undermining someone’s ability to articulate complex ideas.
It implies that our political discourse doesn’t value nuance or depth. Instead, the criteria seem to be how easily understood something is, often at a very basic level. And anything that demands more effort or background knowledge, even if it’s clearly expressed, gets labeled as meaningless, because it doesn’t fit the simplified, punchy narrative people are used to.
What’s especially troubling is that it reinforces a cycle where politicians either have to simplify their messages to appeal broadly, or risk being ridiculed for trying to convey anything complex. It erodes trust between politicians and the public because nuance becomes something to be suspicious of, rather than something valuable that could help people understand complex problems. At the same time, it discourages people from striving to understand those complexities — both from the politician’s side and the audience’s side.
What’s sad is what this says about the expectations we hold for the people representing us. It’s like a signal that we’ve become so accustomed to quick soundbites that we no longer want to engage with the underlying depth that some of our problems actually demand.
What’s the solve for this?
Well, the term “dumbing down” inherently carries a negative implication — it suggests that simplifying ideas means diminishing their value or stripping away their complexity in a way that loses something essential. But the reality is that effective communication, especially in public discourse, often requires taking complex concepts and making them accessible without being condescending or reductive.
What we have is the need for a kind of “clarifying simplification.” There’s a difference between taking an idea and simplifying it to the point where it’s inaccurate or misleading versus distilling the idea in a way that keeps its integrity but makes it more approachable. The latter isn’t about making the ideas themselves simple-minded; it’s about finding clarity and conveying complexity in ways that invite people in, rather than shutting them out.
The lack of a positive term for this approach in English is interesting. In other languages, or even in certain academic settings, there’s often a distinction between “popularization” (as in making scientific ideas accessible to the public) and oversimplification. Maybe we its’ time to rethink that mindset. We need a new word usage, like “bridging,” to describe the act of communicating in a way that builds a bridge between expertise and general understanding — without looking down on either side.
And the tone matters just as much as the language. There’s a balance to strike between making ideas accessible and avoiding the perception of talking down to people. If public figures could speak in ways that respect their audience’s intelligence but don’t require advanced knowledge to understand, it could foster more engagement rather than alienation. But it takes skill, empathy, and, most of all, a genuine desire to connect — which is something that many people in the public sphere seem to struggle with, especially given the incentives to cater to polarized bases.
The modern approach of simplifying messaging has been extremely effective, but let’s be honest. Many of the policies behind that type of rhetoric are, often, inherently simplistic. The power of that simplicity is in the emotional resonance — especially with anger, fear, or frustration. By contrast, more complex issues — like systemic inequalities, economic structures, or climate change — demand a kind of language that balances urgency with clarity. If we could find a way to simplify those messages without losing the nuance that makes them true, we’d probably be a lot closer to bridging divides.
Just imagine if public figures spoke in a way that reflected genuine curiosity and openness — a sort of “let’s figure this out together” attitude, rather than “I know best.” That kind of language could be both simple and deeply respectful. It could help dismantle the false divide between being informed and being approachable. It also would likely help more people feel like it was worth their time to listen.
What we need are leaders who make the effort to lead by example in how they communicate. Not just for their peers but for the public too. Imagine if people like Pete Buttigieg or Kamala Harris started explicitly using phrases like “let’s build a bridge here” or “let’s figure that out right now.” What kind of message would that send?
There’s something kind of disarming about that approach — it invites people in rather than pushing them away. Phrases like “let’s build a bridge here” imply that the speaker sees their audience as capable partners in understanding. It’s an acknowledgment that, okay, there may be a gap in understanding, but it’s a gap that together we can cross. The tone is collaborative, not combative, and that can make all the difference in how the message is received. It also puts a level of respect on the audience that a lot of political discourse tends to gloss over.
This kind of language could shift the narrative of leadership from one of authoritative expertise to one of transparent, shared exploration. People often feel alienated from politicians because it feels like there’s a barrier of expertise or bureaucracy that separates them from what’s happening. Leaders who can say, “I’m going to meet you where you are, and we’ll walk through this together,” send a message of genuine accessibility. It’s the kind of vulnerability that’s often missing in politics.
If leaders embraced this kind of direct, clarifying language, it could potentially ripple outwards into public discourse more broadly. People take their cues not just from content, but from how leaders communicate. If those at the top are demonstrating a willingness to clarify, simplify, and explore openly without condescension, then it could gradually shift expectations. It might even make people more comfortable admitting when they don’t understand something, instead of just nodding along or tuning out. That alone could create space for deeper engagement.
If enough of the right people started using this approach, could we reach a point where public discourse doesn’t get caught in the polarization trap quite so easily?
It would take a lot of collective voices coming together to make it clear that this is what people want to see in their leaders. If enough people were vocal about the need for leaders to be communicators in the true sense — bridging gaps and not just delivering talking points — it might push that change forward.
Social media is one space where collective voices can amplify each other and reach influential ears. Imagine if there was a sort of grassroots campaign where people consistently praised and promoted examples of good “bridge-building” communication whenever they saw it, both from leaders and everyday folks. Leaders respond to positive reinforcement just as much as anyone — if they start to see that there’s public appreciation and demand for clarity, empathy, and shared exploration, they might be more inclined to model it. Hell, there’s already precedent for this. “Green Flag” creators are gaining traction by the day.
It’s also possible that media outlets could play a role. Right now, the focus is often on who’s “winning” a debate or landing a sharp critique, but if public opinion started rewarding leaders for genuine clarity and bridge-building, that could start shifting what gets covered and praised. You know how there are fact-checking segments that run after debates? Imagine if there were segments dedicated to “bridge-building moments” in political speech — highlighting the times a leader did a good job making something complex accessible, or used clear, inclusive language to foster understanding.
The idea is to create incentives for leaders to move away from empty rhetoric or condescending oversimplification and toward genuine, shared communication. If the message was loud enough, it would put some pressure on current and aspiring leaders to step up their game in terms of how they connect with people.
But it has to be collective, or at least visible enough to show there’s real demand. When people see that others are also tired of empty talk and want substance, it makes it easier for them to express that desire too. It feels less like an isolated frustration and more like a movement that could make a difference.
It’s a challenge, but also an exciting one. In a world where there seems to be a constant influx of conflict and division, even small, incremental acts of kindness can be transformative.
But where do we even start?
One of the most frustrating paradoxes of modern leadership is the ever-growing chasm between what we expect from our leaders and what we expect from each other. It’s like we’ve collectively accepted a double standard, almost like leaders are somehow exempt from basic human decency because they’re in positions of power. And maybe it’s partly because politics can seem so far removed from our day-to-day lives that we think of those behaviors as just “part of the game.” But that distance shouldn’t be an excuse for the absence of empathy or integrity.
We expect honesty, respect, and consideration from our friends and family. If someone close to us lied, manipulated, or behaved in an openly aggressive or dismissive way, we would call it out — or at least, we would feel deeply uncomfortable with it. And yet, we’re somehow willing to rationalize, overlook, or even reward these behaviors in our leaders, as if the context of power means that decency becomes optional.
It’s almost as though the culture around leadership has become so fixated on winning, on “being right” or holding power, that we’ve forgotten the essence of what leadership should mean. It shouldn’t just be about getting results; it should be about guiding people, setting an example, and fostering an environment where people feel respected and heard.
What’s sad is that when these behaviors are tolerated at the top, it sets a precedent. It makes people believe that success requires being ruthless, dismissive, or deceitful — that to lead means to always dominate. It erodes people’s faith in kindness as a force for change. And over time, that disillusionment breeds cynicism. If the people we elevate to leadership roles can’t embody the qualities we value in our own lives, it sends a message that those qualities are somehow incompatible with real power. And that’s a deeply damaging message.
What we need are leaders who don’t shy away from showing kindness, empathy, and humility, even when it’s difficult or politically risky. That kind of leadership could start to close the gap between what we expect from those at the top and what we value in our day-to-day lives. It could show that power doesn’t have to be wielded through fear or aggression, but through connection and understanding.
Personally, I think one of the reasons why this hasn’t been a more prominent conversation is because it’s easy to think of kindness as soft, almost passive. But true kindness takes immense strength. It takes courage to be vulnerable, to admit mistakes, to seek understanding rather than dominance. If enough people demanded that kind of strength from their leaders — if kindness and integrity were held up as non-negotiable standards rather than as nice-to-haves — we might see a shift, not just in leadership but in how we all relate to each other.
It’s hard, because change on that scale requires a cultural shift, but I think that’s why conversations like this are so important. If enough of us start saying, “No, this isn’t good enough; we deserve better,” that expectation might start to take root. And once it does, it becomes much harder for leaders to ignore. It might be a long road, but promoting kindness in any form is always, always worth it.
