No institution can possibly survive if it needs geniuses or

Host: The office was empty, its hallways hollow, echoing the faint hum of fluorescent lights that never quite went out. The windows overlooked a city still half-asleep, where the streets shimmered with the leftover rain of the night before. The clock on the wall read 5:37 a.m., but to Jack, it might as well have been midnight — time had no meaning anymore, only deadlines did.

He stood by the window, tie loosened, coffee gone cold, a stack of reports in his hand. His face was drawn tight — intelligence strained by exhaustion, authority corroded by fatigue.

At the far end of the conference table, Jeeny sat with her feet tucked under her, her notebook open, her pen idle. Her eyes, though tired, held a calm certainty that contrasted Jack’s restless energy. She was watching him — not the man he was at work, but the man he was becoming.

Jeeny: softly “Peter Drucker said, ‘No institution can possibly survive if it needs geniuses or supermen to manage it. It must be organized in such a way as to be able to get along under a leadership composed of average human beings.’”

Her voice carried through the sterile air like a note of music in a machine shop — soft, but startling. “You should like that quote, Jack. It’s everything you’ve been saying.”

Jack: turns slowly, his expression wry “And yet everything I’ve been ignoring. You know what’s funny, Jeeny? Everyone says they want a system that runs on normal people — until something goes wrong. Then they start praying for a genius.”

Jeeny: nods, quietly “Maybe because it’s easier to believe in a hero than to fix the system.”

Jack: leans against the table, running a hand through his hair “Heroes make things simple. They give people someone to blame or worship. Systems, though — they’re cold, dull, slow. Nobody wants to give credit to structure when something works. They want to give it to a face.”

Jeeny: gently “But Drucker was right, Jack. Institutions built on people’s brilliance always die with them. You’ve spent months running this company like it depends on you — and that’s exactly the problem.”

Host: The city began to brighten, the first hints of sunrise brushing against the glass, spilling pale gold into the room. The papers on the table caught the light, and suddenly the bureaucratic mess looked almost holy, like a map of human struggle under fluorescent grace.

Jack: sighs, tiredly “You think I don’t know that? I’ve tried to delegate. I’ve tried to build systems. But no matter what I do, everything keeps coming back to me. It’s like the whole machine only moves when I push it.”

Jeeny: leans forward, voice steady “Then maybe you built the wrong kind of machine. A good institution isn’t one that depends on one man’s effort — it’s one that survives his absence. If you were gone tomorrow, could this place still stand?”

Jack: looks down, quietly “No.”

Jeeny: softly “Then it’s not leadership, Jack. It’s dependency. You’ve built a monument, not a model.”

Host: The sound of the city grew louder — buses starting, horns echoing, life stirring. But in the glass tower, time still felt frozen, like a loop of effort repeating without renewal.

Jack: pacing slowly “You know what I fear, Jeeny? Not failure. Not even irrelevance. I fear that if I stop running this hard, everything will fall apart. That the only thing holding this place together is the illusion of my control.”

Jeeny: quietly “Then maybe it deserves to fall apart. Because if the system collapses when one man rests, it wasn’t built — it was propped up.”

Jack: his tone sharpens “That’s easy for you to say. You’re not the one everyone’s watching, waiting for answers.”

Jeeny: firm, but compassionate “No, Jack. That’s not leadership. That’s dependence dressed as glory. Leadership isn’t being the center — it’s building something that no longer needs one.”

Host: The sunlight grew stronger, illuminating the dust in the air like small truths suspended, waiting to be seen. Jack’s reflection in the glass looked older, more tired, but also softer, as if the light had thinned the pride out of him.

Jack: after a long pause “You make it sound like leadership is supposed to be invisible.”

Jeeny: smiles faintly “It is. The best leaders disappear into their systems. They leave behind not monuments, but mechanisms — things that work without applause. You don’t remember who built the clock; you just trust that it keeps time.”

Jack: looks at her, thoughtful “And what if people stop caring? What if they stop trying when there’s no hero to chase?”

Jeeny: stands, walks closer “Then you teach them that purpose isn’t found in admiration — it’s found in ownership. Let people build something and call it their own, and they’ll carry it longer than any order you could give.”

Jack: softly, after a moment “You make it sound like management is an act of faith.”

Jeeny: nods “It is. Faith in the ordinary, Jack. Faith that human beings — flawed, average, tired — can still do extraordinary things if you stop trying to outshine them.”

Host: The light filled the room completely now, spilling across the table, the chairs, the papers — everything ordinary turned radiant for a brief, fleeting moment. The city outside had come alive, yet inside that room, it was quiet — sacred, even.

Jack: leans back, eyes distant “So you think the future belongs to the average?”

Jeeny: smiles softly “No. It belongs to the cooperative. The ones who understand that greatness isn’t born from genius — it’s born from trust. Drucker wasn’t talking about lowering the bar; he was talking about raising the foundation.”

Jack: nods slowly, finally understanding “Build strong structures, not fragile heroes.”

Jeeny: quietly “Exactly. Because heroes burn out. Systems endure.”

Host: The clock ticked once, sharply — and in that sound, something shifted in the room. A kind of release. Jack gathered his papers, not with his usual precision, but with a strange calm. Jeeny watched him, her eyes kind, knowing he wouldn’t say thank you — but that he’d heard her.

Jack: softly, as he looks toward the sunrise “Maybe it’s time to stop leading like a savior… and start leading like a steward.”

Jeeny: smiling “That’s the difference between ego and ethics, Jack. One builds empires; the other builds legacies.”

Host: The morning light flooded the room, the shadows fading. The city below moved on — ordinary people, doing ordinary work, keeping the world running.

And in that quiet revelation, Peter Drucker’s words lingered —

that no institution should depend on genius,
no system should rest on saviors,
for the truest strength of any organization
lies not in the extraordinary few,
but in the steady many who keep it alive.

For leadership, when it matures,
ceases to be about shining brighter than others,
and becomes the art of making others shine at all.