Sunday morning, we watched the final episode of the Netflix series, The Crown. It took us about a year and a half to journey through all the six seasons. We witnessed Queen Elizabeth II in all her grandeur - her regal presence, her moments of obtuseness, and her profound wisdom. Yet, it was in that very last episode, poignantly titled Sleep, Dearie Sleep, set to the somber tunes of a bagpipe, that we saw her vulnerabilities clearer than ever. At that moment, it felt like her life’s purpose had come to a full circle.
The Queen’s journey was defined by self-doubt, constantly in contrast to her unshakable faith in the system she served. Over six decades of her reign, these conflicting elements shaped her life and leadership. While I could never fully warm up to the Queen, even in her most vulnerable moments of introspection, I always admired the deep and commanding respect she felt for the chair she occupied. Her commitment to the crown was undeniable, even when it demanded personal sacrifices.
As the Queen neared the octogenarian phase of her life, she was reluctantly forced to consider the details of her own funeral - a task she clearly resented. Through the planning of this ceremony, the Queen felt the internal tug of passing on the mantle, of stepping down. Despite the pressure, she remained steadfast. On the one hand, she recalled countless conversations with her younger self - reminders of her dual role as both a monarch and a mother, torn between her duty to the crown and the responsibility she feels to her family. On the other hand, she was also bound by an oath to serve the crown until her very last breath, symbolizing stability and permanence.
As I reflected on this final episode, I found myself drawing unexpected parallels between the Queen’s situation and the decline of organizations in today’s world. With the rise of AI and other modern advancements, I can’t help but feel that the once-esteemed organizations, the so-called blue-chip companies, are now burdened by age. While they still have much to offer and the potential to thrive once again, they are increasingly being urged to prepare for their own obsolescence.
How do leaders respond to such an existential crisis? In my mind, I hoped that leaders would be transparent, honest, and open with their people—their most vital stakeholders, their employees. Yet, I was conflicted. Would this approach be counterproductive, much like the Queen’s inability to address her retirement candidly with her own family, in order to maintain the symbolism of stability?
We train ourselves to be prepared for change. Over the course of my own career, I’ve lived through two major mergers and acquisitions. I’ve been part of the workforce that adapted to those changes, and I’ve witnessed the consequences of not being agile enough. In light of this, I began to question: what kind of messaging can truly prepare the workforce for the changes ahead, however harsh they may be? I know there’s no magic solution, but I remain inclined to believe that, if we—the people—are involved in shaping the future of the organizations to which we’ve given so much of our lives, we can make more meaningful contributions in preparing for the inevitable wake.
Leadership, at its best, recognizes that it’s not just about guiding the individual but also about nurturing a community. In this context, leaders must begin trusting their core stakeholders (beyond the shareholders), those whose success is deeply intertwined with the organization’s fate. If leaders act with maturity, embracing the wisdom of their people, their success will ripple through the entire structure.
We stand at the precipice of a new era, one defined by technological advances that are accompanied by complex ethical and moral dilemmas. These are difficult questions, but they are also critical. New-age leaders must be ready to look inward, to reflect, and to carve a path forward, preparing not only themselves but their communities to pass the baton on to the next generation.
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