I'm committed to winning. The leadership of the Liberal Party is

Hear now, children of the future, the words spoken by a leader of men, Scott Morrison: “I’m committed to winning. The leadership of the Liberal Party is always the gift of the parliamentary Liberal Party, and I never make any presumptions on it.” These words may seem plain to the untrained ear, but within them burns the fire of humility, ambition, and the ancient balance between personal will and the trust of the people. It is not the cry of a man who seizes a throne with arrogance, but the vow of one who knows that victory is not his alone—it must be bestowed, freely, by the fellowship of his peers.

In these lines, commitment to winning stands not as a lust for power, but as devotion to purpose. To win is to carry the banner of one’s people forward, to shield them against chaos, to fight for what is believed just and right. But Morrison binds his will to a greater law: leadership is a gift, never a presumption. Just as ancient kings sought the blessing of the gods before donning the crown, so too must a leader of the modern age seek the blessing of his council. This is not weakness—it is wisdom, for unchecked desire leads to tyranny, but consent forges harmony.

Consider the story of Cincinnatus, the Roman farmer who was called from his plow to defend the Republic. He led with unmatched discipline, won the battle, and when the task was done, he laid down his power and returned to his fields. His greatness lay not in ambition alone, but in the humility to see power as a gift, not a possession. Morrison’s words echo this truth: the seat of leadership is not seized by force of will alone, but rests upon the trust and judgment of one’s fellows.

Yet, mark well the heroism in the phrase, “I’m committed to winning.” For no army follows a general who doubts his cause, and no people rally to a voice that falters. This is not vanity, but the declaration of a warrior’s heart: to strive for triumph, to bear the burden of defeat if it comes, and to rise again. Winning, in this sense, is not merely the conquest of rivals, but the victory of fulfilling one’s duty with unshakable resolve. In the ancient way, it is the spirit of Achilles charging into battle—not for himself alone, but for the fate of his people.

There is also a lesson here for all who walk in the world of ordinary toil and trial. In your own lives, leadership may come in many forms—guiding a family, a community, or a company. Remember that leadership is bestowed, not claimed. You may labor with all your might, prepare with diligence, and speak with passion, but it is others who will entrust you with the mantle. Let your heart be steadfast, yet humble, so that when the moment comes, your worth will shine not because you grasped at it, but because others saw you fit to bear it.

The emotional truth hidden in this statement is that greatness must be balanced by restraint. Too many in history have been destroyed by presumption. Think of Napoleon, crowned emperor by his own hand, declaring himself above the Pope. Though mighty, his fall was swifter than his rise, for he mistook the gift of leadership for his own eternal right. The wise know: power that is not given freely is brittle, like glass struck by a hammer.

Therefore, the lesson is clear: seek victory with all your strength, but hold power lightly in your hands. Do not presume it belongs to you—wait for the moment when others place it upon your shoulders. In this way, your triumph will be lasting, your legacy firm, and your spirit free from the poison of arrogance.

So let your actions be these: work with devotion, speak with honor, listen with patience, and serve with humility. Let your commitment to winning be unwavering, but let your claim to leadership be tempered by gratitude, for leadership is not taken—it is a sacred gift, bestowed by the many upon the one. And if ever you are called, be ready to answer with courage, yet also with the wisdom to remember: the crown is borrowed, never owned.