Inconvenient truths of leadership: The cost of dying inside

Happiness is said to be free.

Yet for many in leadership, the price has become silent suffering, buried desires and a legacy written in invisible ink.

CEOs, politicians, directors, and public servants are often admired figures in various sectors, known for smiling even in pain. 

They perform and endure not out of joy but to receive applause.

While they enjoy public accolades, they may be crumbling inside and in private.

This phenomenon isn't humility; it's a gradual emotional disappearance.

Often, the world remains oblivious until a disaster or even an obituary appears.

The polite disappearance of powerful people

There exists a subtle epidemic, particularly among individuals in positions of influence.

This phenomenon is not viral in nature; rather, it is cultural.

Individuals are experiencing a gradual decline, not due to physical illness but as a consequence of years spent suppressing their identities to conform to external expectations.

From cabinet meetings to boardrooms, the pattern is unmistakable.

Leaders maintain a façade of composure amidst challenges.

They present themselves in a polished manner yet return home feeling empty.

They are commended for their reliability yet seldom acknowledged for their authenticity.

We label this as duty or grace. But truthfully, it is the silent burial of identity beneath responsibility.

TODAY, those who pour endlessly from their cup are soon left thirsty among those they once served.

This pattern has been observed repetitively in both developed and developing economies.

In Japan, the cultural phenomenon of overwork has resulted in the coining of the term “karoshi, " which translates to “death from overwork.”

Certain executives within governmental and business sectors have been known to collapse at their desks literally.

Concurrently, in various regions of Africa, leaders who are celebrated for their sacrifices frequently pass away without experiencing peace or even a proper retirement, commemorated yet emotionally depleted.

Following their collapse, the individuals of utmost reliability are recognised with accolades, whereas the most selfless among them are celebrated exclusively through eulogies.

Their aspirations, passions and sense of tranquillity are presented upon altars that rarely acknowledge their contributions to these virtues.

The high cost of being everything to everyone

We glorify sacrifice and worship strength, but we often do so at the expense of humanity. Selflessness, when unbalanced, becomes silent destruction.

The world claps for burnt-out heroes but disappears when they can no longer perform.

It is frequently noted in influential circles that some individuals are remarkably strong, often overlooking the toll that such strength exacts on their happiness and self-expression.

One particular individual consistently offered support to others without ever inquiring about who was present to support him or her.

The applause fades. And when it does, the very people who benefited from your sacrifice often become strangers.

Nowadays, it's more common for a candle that lights a thousand others to continue shining even after it has melted into silence.

Consider New Zealand’s former Prime Minister, Jacinda Ardern, who made global headlines when she stepped down, citing burnout and a simple truth: “I no longer have enough in the tank.”

Many praised her honesty. But behind that praise was a stark truth: modern leadership still makes no room for humanity.

Closer to home, countless public servants across the African continent spend decades in active service, often underappreciated, underpaid and overburdened.

They retire quietly, sometimes forgotten, and sometimes without basic dignity.

Burnout offers no pension, there's no legacy reward for feeling drained, and hiding behind your title brings no honour.

Addicted to applause, Numb to purpose

Approval can be addictive. In leadership, it surfaces as loyalty. In corporate life, it takes the form of professionalism.

In politics, it masquerades as public trust.

To earn it, many sacrifice their joy.

They say yes when they mean no, show up when they are falling apart, and choose prestige over purpose, optics over peace.

They lose their voice, not from shouting, but from never speaking their truth.

This is not leadership; it is martyrdom without resurrection.

Those who adopt someone else’s happiness will never truly grasp their own joy.

The corporate world is rife with examples. In Silicon Valley, startups are known for glorifying “hustle culture.”

Yet, behind every success story is often a trail of emotional burnout, broken families and inner emptiness.

A former Uber CEO, Travis Kalanick, led one of the most disruptive tech companies in the world, but his aggressive leadership style eventually collided with internal culture and public trust, forcing a dramatic resignation and years of reputation repair.

What’s worse is that we teach others to follow this path.

We model it for our teams, staff and children, passing down the same legacy of emotional bankruptcy while rebranding it as an honour.

The legacy no one talks about

Too many leaders die emotionally long before their bodies do.

They become relics remembered for titles, not for dreams.

Respected for service, they are never understood as souls.

In the end, their names are engraved on plaques but erased from memory.

They are remembered for their presence, not for peace.

Their legacies are filled with public victories and private voids.

Their lives become structured obituaries.

Accomplished but empty.

These days, the giver is often buried before the gift is fully unwrapped.

In the political context, we see elder statesmen who gave decades to governance but left office without peace, relevance or proper documentation of their philosophies.

They are honoured with statues, but their lived wisdom is buried beneath unrecorded pain.

This is the inconvenient truth: the world’s obsession with optics is killing the humanity of the leadership class.

And no one is talking about it because of fear of being labelled a weakling.

Reclaiming joy as a radical leadership act

It is time to reset. Reclaiming joy is not rebellion; it is restoration.

Leadership must no longer be measured by how much they give away.

It must be measured by how much of themselves they retain in the process.

Happiness is not a luxury. It is a compass.

Peace is not passivity.

It is strength. Leaders are allowed to rest, protect their time, and define success beyond applause.

When a leader burns out, so does the vision.

When a policymaker loses peace, the policy loses people.

When a CEO loses purpose, the company loses its soul.  Let no one romanticise exhaustion.

The cost is too high. Many will recall Pope Benedict XVI breaking centuries of tradition when he resigned from the papacy, citing a lack of strength and mental energy to continue. In a role perceived as lifelong and sacred, he chose rest over ritual.

That decision was radical and deeply human.

A new leadership ethic is non-negotiable

The world needs a new leadership ethic. One rooted not just in public service but in personal wholeness. It says:

It is okay to choose yourself.
It is okay to say, “Not this time.”
It is okay to live a full life beyond the conference table.

A leader who lives half a life can only lead half a people.

A minister who smiles for all but speaks for none, including themselves, leads a silent nation.

Leaders must end this culture of smiling martyrs and introduce a culture of joyful, grounded leadership.

Not everyone will understand, and that is fine.

True leadership is not about approval; it is about alignment.

Final reflection: Legacy must begin with self

When the curtain falls, the applause will fade.

The headlines will disappear.

The job title will be inherited by another.

The company will move on.

The nation will vote again.

But the question that remains is deeply personal:

Did I conduct my life in a manner that instils pride in my identity? 

One was not brought into existence merely to be consumed. 

One was born to live fully, boldly and joyfully. 

Safeguard your peace and protect your joy.

Allow the applause to wait, for the world is already filled with enough monuments of the broken.

It now needs leaders who remember how to smile without dying inside.

The writer is an engineer