Leadership is about doing what you know is right - even when a

Host: The evening sky was a storm of gray and gold, the kind of light that arrives before the rain — beautiful, fleeting, and heavy with forewarning. The city’s hum had grown into a low roar, traffic echoing like the heartbeat of unrest. Down below, crowds gathered, voices rising, signs waving, a thousand different truths colliding in the air.

Inside the government building, on the top floor, Jack stood near a window, his reflection split by the lightning outside. His jacket hung loosely, his tie undone, his face pale in the cold fluorescent glow. On his desk, the decision — a single document waiting for his signature — lay like a weapon disguised as paper.

Across from him, Jeeny sat, her hands folded, her eyes calm but piercing. The stormlight flickered across her face — half in shadow, half in hope.

Jeeny: softly “Bob Ehrlich said, ‘Leadership is about doing what you know is right — even when a growing din of voices around you is trying to convince you to accept what you know to be wrong.’”

Her voice was steady, but the weight of the words filled the room like thunder without sound. “You’ve read it, haven’t you, Jack? Every headline. Every poll. Every voice telling you to give in.”

Jack: without turning “They’re not wrong, Jeeny. Maybe I’m the one who’s wrong. The numbers say it’s unpopular, the advisors say it’s political suicide — every voice in this building says I should sign it.”

Jeeny: quietly, leaning forward “And what does your own voice say?”

Jack: after a pause, bitterly “That’s the problem. I can barely hear it anymore.”

Host: The rain began, tapping sharply against the glass, like fingers drumming impatience. The room flickered with lightning, the storm outside mirroring the turmoil within.

Jeeny: rises, walking slowly toward him “Leadership isn’t about being right alone, Jack. But it’s about being alone because you’re right.”

Jack: turns sharply, voice rising “Easy to say when it’s not your name on the front page! When it’s not your career, your party, your family on the line! You think courage is romantic — but it’s just lonely.”

Jeeny: steadily “Of course it’s lonely. Doing the right thing always is. That’s why it’s called leadership, not agreement.”

Jack: steps closer, his tone sharp, pained “And if I do what’s right and lose everything? What then? What good is principle when it costs the power to protect anyone?”

Jeeny: her voice soft but fierce “Then you’ll have kept the only power that matters — the one inside yourself. The power to sleep without lies, to stand without apology.”

Host: The rain thickened, sheets of water streaking down the window like tears the sky had postponed. The city lights blurred, the world outside distorted, as though even truth itself had been smeared by the weather.

Jack: his voice quieter, breaking slightly “You think they’ll understand someday? The ones shouting my name now — cursing it, burning it?”

Jeeny: looks at him, her expression soft “No. Maybe not. Most won’t. They’ll forget you. Or worse, they’ll rewrite you. But history has a way of finding its own conscience. The noise always fades, Jack. The truth stays.”

Jack: turns back to the desk, staring down at the paper “And if the truth destroys me?”

Jeeny: gently “Then at least it destroys you honestly. The rest of them — they’ll still have to live with pretending.”

Host: The lightning flared again, flooding the room with white fire, revealing every line on Jack’s face, every mark of fatigue and fight. His hands trembled slightly, hovering above the paper — that small, fragile battlefield between conscience and convenience.

Jack: after a long silence, quietly “I used to think leadership was about winning, about strategy, about persuading people. But it’s not, is it? It’s about enduring them — even when they hate you for being right.”

Jeeny: nods, her eyes softening “It’s about being the one who still stands when everyone else sits down. The one who remembers that the crowd’s comfort doesn’t erase the truth’s call.”

Jack: half-smiles, weary but sincere “You talk like you’ve lived this.”

Jeeny: smiles faintly “Everyone who’s ever done the right thing in the wrong crowd has.”

Host: The storm began to ease, the thunder distant now, the rain softening into a kind of hushed applause from the heavens. The tension in the room shifted — not gone, but tempered, like steel cooling after the forge.

Jack picked up his pen, his hand steady now, his eyes calm. The decision was no longer about career, or legacy, or even logic. It was something deeper — the quiet resolve of conscience.

Jack: softly, almost to himself “They’ll call me arrogant. They’ll say I refused to listen.”

Jeeny: steps closer, gently “Then let them. The voices of the loud are temporary; the voice of the true is eternal.”

Jack: signs the paper, sets the pen down, exhales “It’s done.”

Jeeny: smiles faintly, relief and respect mingled “Then so are you — done doubting who you are.”

Host: The rain stopped, and through the cleared glass, the city reemerged — washed, quiet, breathing again. The clouds parted, and a single beam of light broke through, striking the desk, illuminating the signature like a seal of truth.

Jack stood silently, the weight of choice finally lifting from his shoulders. His reflection in the glass was still there — but this time, he recognized it.

Jeeny: softly “Leadership was never about power, Jack. It’s about persistence — the courage to do right when right stands alone.”

Jack: nods slowly “And to stand still, even when the world shouts ‘move.’”

Jeeny: smiles, whispering “Exactly. Sometimes the greatest sound a leader can make… is silence.”

Host: The city lights flickered, the morning sun breaking through, the noise of life returning below — but up in that room of choices, there was only peace.

And in that peace, Bob Ehrlich’s words seemed to resonate through the quiet —

that leadership is not a chorus,
but a solitude;

not the echo of approval,
but the pulse of conviction;

for when the voices of the many demand the easy wrong,
the true leader holds to the lonely right,
and in that loneliness,
keeps the soul of integrity alive.