Isolationism is not leadership.

The words of John Hickenlooper ring with the clarity of a trumpet call: “Isolationism is not leadership.” In this brief but forceful utterance, he unmasks a falsehood often disguised as strength. For some imagine that to withdraw, to close one’s gates, to shun the world, is to be independent and powerful. But Hickenlooper declares that such isolationism is not the mark of a true leader. To lead is to step forward, to engage, to carry others with you across the storm. Withdrawal may protect for a moment, but it does not guide; it does not inspire; it does not endure.

True leadership requires presence. A leader does not stand alone upon a mountain, aloof from the struggles below, but descends into the valley to lift others upward. Isolation may bring safety, but leadership demands courage. It requires dialogue, cooperation, and vision that extends beyond the self. A general cannot lead if he hides from battle; a statesman cannot lead if he closes his ears to the voices of nations; a parent cannot lead if they retreat into silence before their children. Leadership is engagement, and engagement is the opposite of isolation.

History offers us both warnings and examples. In the years before World War II, the United States clung to isolationism, hoping that by ignoring the rising fires in Europe and Asia, it could remain untouched. But the flames spread, and soon the oceans could no longer shield them. Leadership, delayed by isolation, had to be forced into action at greater cost. In contrast, when the war ended, leaders like President Truman and General Marshall understood Hickenlooper’s truth: isolationism had failed, so they built alliances, supported recovery through the Marshall Plan, and engaged the world. In that engagement, the United States became a true leader among nations.

This principle does not belong only to nations, but to every sphere of life. Consider the example of Nelson Mandela. He could have withdrawn into bitterness after decades of imprisonment, isolating himself from those who had oppressed him. Instead, he chose engagement—working with his former enemies, forging reconciliation, and guiding South Africa into a new dawn. His leadership was not isolation, but participation; not retreat, but dialogue. Through this, he became more than a symbol—he became a shepherd of his people’s future.

Hickenlooper’s words remind us also of the personal realm. For there are those who, in fear or pride, isolate themselves from others, imagining strength in solitude. Yet in truth, they deny themselves the power of community, the growth of listening, the wisdom of counsel. Leadership in family, in work, in community cannot exist without relationship. To isolate is to abandon one’s duty; to engage is to fulfill it.

The lesson is clear: if you would lead, do not withdraw. Step forward into the arena where voices rise, where conflicts must be resolved, where courage is tested. Seek counsel, build alliances, listen even to those who differ, and find strength not in standing apart but in bringing others together. Leadership is not a fortress of solitude, but a bridge spanning divisions, a light guiding the many through darkness.

Therefore, O listener, carry this wisdom in your heart: isolationism is not leadership. To close your gates is to preserve yourself alone; to open them is to preserve many. True greatness lies not in retreat, but in the brave act of engagement. And whether among nations or neighbors, in times of peace or in times of trial, the leader is not the one who hides—but the one who dares to stand in the midst of all, and lead.