In the military, I learned that 'leadership' means raising your

In the words of Tulsi Gabbard, “In the military, I learned that leadership means raising your hand and volunteering for the tough, important assignments.” This teaching is a flame that burns across the ages, echoing not only in the halls of armies but in the lives of all who strive to serve. To lead is not merely to hold command or to be exalted in rank, but to embrace the burdens that others may fear, to step forward when silence and hesitation weigh heavily upon the crowd. Leadership is not comfort; it is sacrifice. It is not the shield that guards the self, but the sword that cuts through the darkness on behalf of many.

In the ancient days, warriors knew this truth. Among the Greeks, when the phalanx formed, each hoplite stood shoulder to shoulder, yet it was the chosen few who pressed ahead at the front lines. They did not boast of privilege, but bore the scars of duty. So it is with leadership: it demands that the one who sees the peril does not step back, but steps forth. Tulsi’s words echo the eternal cry of courage—that the measure of a leader is not in titles, but in deeds freely embraced when the weight of necessity is heaviest.

Consider the story of Marcus Curtius, the Roman youth. When the earth split open in the forum and an oracle declared the chasm could only be filled by Rome’s greatest treasure, he understood at once what was demanded. Not wealth, not jewels, but sacrifice. He mounted his horse, armed for battle, and cast himself into the abyss, sealing it with his life. Such is the spirit of volunteering for the impossible task: to see what others fear and to surrender comfort for the sake of the whole. This spirit is what Gabbard learned in the military, where hesitation costs lives, and the raising of one hand can mean salvation for many.

This lesson is not bound to the battlefield alone. In every age, in every life, challenges arise that call for someone to say, “I will bear this.” In a family, it may mean caring for the weary when others are tired. In a community, it may mean working when others despair. In the struggles of the soul, it may mean choosing integrity, even when deceit is easier. To raise the hand and claim responsibility is the mark of the true leader, whether clothed in armor or in humble rags.

And yet, let it be known: such a choice is never easy. The hand that rises also trembles. To volunteer is to accept toil, uncertainty, and often pain. But herein lies the hidden glory: the leader who takes upon themselves the hardest tasks inspires others to rise. Just as fire kindles fire, one act of courage awakens courage in many. What is more powerful than a leader who says, “I will go first, though I know the path is perilous”? This is the seed from which whole movements and nations are born.

The lesson we draw is clear: true leadership is not self-seeking. It is self-giving. To those who would learn, practice this: when a difficult duty lies before your people, resist the urge to shrink away. When silence lingers and all eyes look for direction, let your hand be the one to rise. Whether the task be great or small, embrace it with dignity. In time, your example will teach more than words ever could, for leadership is a living flame, passed from soul to soul through action.

Therefore, O reader of these words, take them as both warning and encouragement. The path of leadership is a path of scars, but also of honor. Do not seek it for pride, nor for reward, but because the world is made brighter when someone chooses to bear the burden. Let your hand be ready, your spirit willing, and your heart steadfast. Then you will know, as warriors and sages have known across the centuries, that the measure of greatness is found in this: to serve first, to volunteer for the hardest trials, and to rise when others fall silent.