The more powerful you become, the less likely it is that people

"The more powerful you become, the less likely it is that people will tell you the truth. It must be why the 'Harry Potter' books become so bloated as the series progresses; think of the beautiful, precise editing of books 1-3 drowned in a mire of sycophancy and yea-saying." These words, spoken by Robert Rinder, reflect a harsh truth that transcends the world of literature and speaks to the very nature of power and truth in human relations. Rinder’s observation cuts through the veil of flattery and falsehoods that often surround those in positions of strength, reminding us that as one rises to greater heights, the honest voices that once offered candid counsel are often drowned out by those who seek only to please or gain favor. Power, as Rinder suggests, distorts the lens through which we see reality, as those around us may no longer feel free to speak openly or offer the truth.

In the ancient world, this phenomenon was recognized and feared. The Greek philosopher Socrates, known for his relentless pursuit of truth, was no stranger to the corrupting influence of power. He spoke of the danger of becoming too enamored with one’s own position or status, for in doing so, one risks losing touch with reality and the truth that grounds us. The Socratic method—asking probing questions to reveal deeper truths—was an antidote to the comfortable but dangerous complacency that often arises when power is unchecked. Socrates understood that truth is not a flattering echo of our desires but a stark light that reveals what we may not want to see. Power often distorts that light, turning it into a shadow.

Similarly, in the Roman Empire, Julius Caesar found himself surrounded by sycophants and flatterers as his power grew. When he was offered a crown by his supporters, it was not out of genuine admiration for his leadership, but rather a desire to ensure their own favor and position within his court. Caesar, despite his brilliance, became increasingly isolated from the truth of his actions, surrounded by a court of advisors who only spoke what they thought would please him. This isolation from honest feedback contributed to the eventual downfall of the empire he had built. The assassination of Caesar by his closest friends is a tragic reminder of the price that power exacts when it distances itself from truth. Those who once spoke to him openly were silenced, and in their silence, they paved the way for his ruin.

Rinder’s comparison to the Harry Potter books offers a striking modern example. In the earlier books of the series, the narrative feels tight, focused, and sharp—it speaks truthfully to the struggles of growing up, friendship, and the battle between good and evil. Yet, as the series progresses, one can sense a shift. The books become more expansive, more concerned with world-building and adding layers to the story, and in doing so, they lose some of the precision that defined the earlier works. Perhaps, as Rinder suggests, this shift reflects the natural pull of sycophancy that comes with success and power. Those who surround a successful author, artist, or leader often fall into the trap of only offering praise, rarely challenging the creator with the critical truths they need to hear. As a result, the work grows less focused, less honed, and less true to its original vision.

This lesson speaks to a universal truth about power: the higher one climbs, the fewer honest voices remain. The same forces that elevate a person also surround them with those eager to tell them what they want to hear. It is easy for one who ascends to power to become blind to their own flaws, surrounded by a court of those who seek favor or who dare not speak truth. In ancient times, this was understood as a great danger, as it leads to hubris, a prideful overconfidence that blinds one to their own limitations. The story of King Oedipus in Greek tragedy illustrates this vividly. Oedipus, once a wise and celebrated ruler, fell victim to his own inability to see the truth, aided by a court that feared to speak honestly about the prophecies and omens that surrounded him. His downfall came not from an external enemy, but from his own refusal to accept the truth that was staring him in the face.

The lesson here is one of humility and vigilance. If we are to succeed in life—whether in leadership, in creativity, or in personal growth—we must surround ourselves with truth-tellers who are not afraid to speak openly, even if that truth is difficult to hear. We must cultivate an environment where the honest voice is never drowned out by the echo chamber of yes-men. We must be willing to listen, to question, and to challenge our own assumptions. Power can isolate us from the truth, but it is in embracing the hard truths, not just the flattering ones, that we will grow wiser, stronger, and more capable.

In practical terms, this means seeking out feedback from those who have no agenda other than to help us see clearly. Whether it is in our professional lives, in our personal relationships, or in the pursuit of our passions, we must actively invite criticism and reflection, knowing that these are the keys to growth. It is easy to surround oneself with those who flatter, but it is the brave ones who offer honest insights that will help us become the best versions of ourselves. We must never allow the praise of the crowd to drown out the truth that we need to hear. By doing so, we avoid the pitfalls of complacency, and we remain true to the vision that will carry us forward.

So let us heed the words of Rinder, and the lessons of the ancients, with humility and awareness. As we rise in the world, let us seek the truth, no matter how uncomfortable it may be, and let us surround ourselves with those who will not hesitate to speak it, for it is only in the light of truth that we can achieve greatness.