It takes leadership to improve safety. And I started off the

Hear the voice of Jackie Stewart, the champion of speed and courage, who declared: “It takes leadership to improve safety. And I started off the movement in my time, but the person who has done more over the past 20 to 30 years and who has led it is Professor Sid Watkins.” In these words we hear not only a tribute, but a revelation of what it means to lead with vision. For Stewart, who risked his life on the racing circuits of the world, knew that victory was hollow if it was bought with needless death. He understood that leadership is not only to chase glory, but to guard the lives of others.

The meaning of it takes leadership to improve safety is profound. Safety does not come by chance, nor by the passage of time alone. It comes when someone steps forward, willing to challenge the old ways, to endure resistance, and to fight for change. Many prefer to ignore danger until tragedy forces their eyes open. But the leader sees ahead and acts before calamity, even if his vision makes him unpopular. To lead in safety is to value life above tradition, to raise one’s voice not for oneself, but for those who cannot yet speak.

Jackie Stewart himself lived this truth. In the 1960s, racing was perilous, a theater where men fell too often to fire and twisted steel. Stewart, though a master of the track, refused to accept that death was the price of passion. He fought for stronger helmets, better barriers, medical teams ready at the trackside. Many mocked him as weak, fearing that safety would dull the edge of the sport. Yet Stewart stood firm, knowing that true leadership sometimes means standing against the roar of the crowd. His vision planted seeds that would one day save countless lives.

But Stewart, in humility, honored another: Professor Sid Watkins, the physician who devoted decades to protecting drivers. Watkins was not a racer but a healer, a man whose presence on the circuits transformed tragedy into resilience. He fought for medical cars to be present at every start, for faster responses to crashes, for constant innovation in safety. Where others accepted fate, he built systems that defied it. His leadership was not loud but steadfast, not glamorous but lifesaving. Stewart’s tribute reminds us that leadership wears many forms—sometimes the helmet, sometimes the healer’s hand.

History shows that great transformations often come when leaders choose safety and preservation over reckless pursuit of glory. Consider the builders of bridges and towers who, after collapses, enforced new codes of strength and protection. Consider miners and factory workers, whose suffering sparked reforms that now save lives each day. In every age, it was leadership that turned danger into progress, men and women who asked not only, “How far can we go?” but also, “How many can we save?” Stewart’s words honor that eternal truth.

The lesson is clear: leadership is not measured only in victories won, but in lives protected. To lead is to see beyond the present thrill into the long horizon of human well-being. It is easy to accept danger as inevitable; it is harder to stand against it and demand change. But the leader does not settle for ease—he dares to carve a safer, stronger path for those who follow. Stewart and Watkins together showed that courage is not only in risking one’s life, but in preserving it.

Therefore, beloved listeners, let your practice be this: in every sphere of life, ask where safety can be strengthened. Do not despise the one who calls for caution, for often he is the one who loves most deeply. Lead not only by daring, but also by protecting. For Jackie Stewart’s eternal wisdom reminds us: it takes leadership to improve safety. And those who wield their vision for the preservation of life leave behind not only victories, but legacies that endure in every life saved, every tragedy prevented, every future safeguarded by their courage.