You can't compete globally unless you have appropriate

Host: The airport lounge buzzed with a low, electric hum — the sound of rolling luggage, coffee machines, and languages colliding like waves. Through the glass wall, the runway lights flickered against a fading sunset, gold bleeding into blue.

Jack sat slouched in a chair by the window, laptop open, headphones hanging loose around his neck. He wore the look of a man who had been fighting the world for too long — or maybe just fighting himself. Jeeny walked toward him, her heels soft against the tiled floor, her passport in one hand and a book in the other.

She sat beside him, quiet at first, watching a plane ascend into the dusk — the roar fading into distance. Then she spoke, softly but clearly, her voice cutting through the background like a thread of purpose.

Jeeny: “James Wolfensohn once said, ‘You can’t compete globally unless you have appropriate communication skills.’”
(she closed the book)
“He was right, Jack. You can’t build bridges if you don’t know the language of the people you’re trying to reach.”

Jack: “Bridges?”
(he smirked, closing his laptop)
“Jeeny, people don’t build bridges anymore. They build brands, apps, and firewalls. Communication today is just performance.”

Host: A faint announcement echoed overhead, calling passengers to a distant gate. Jeeny looked at him with that quiet patience she wore like armor — the kind that made him uneasy because it didn’t need to shout to be strong.

Jeeny: “You think communication is performance? Then maybe you’ve never really listened.”

Jack: “Oh, I’ve listened. Long enough to know that people don’t mean half of what they say. The world runs on translation errors — politics, business, relationships — all of it.”

Jeeny: “That’s not a reason to stop talking, Jack. That’s a reason to learn to speak better.”

Jack: “And what’s that supposed to mean? Another idealistic sermon about empathy and dialogue?”

Jeeny: “No. About survival. You can have the best product, the sharpest strategy, the boldest idea — but if you can’t express it across cultures, across borders, it dies in silence. That’s what Wolfensohn meant.”

Host: A flight attendant passed them, wheeling a silver cart. The faint scent of coffee and jet fuel lingered in the air. Jack leaned back, arms crossed, his eyes glinting with restrained defiance.

Jack: “I get it. You’re talking about diplomacy. But this is business — you sell results, not words.”

Jeeny: “Words are results, Jack. You can’t sell what you can’t explain.”

Jack: “Tell that to Elon Musk. Half the time he just tweets nonsense, and the stock still climbs.”

Jeeny: “Because he communicates vision — not language, vision. Even chaos, when delivered with conviction, becomes communication.”

Jack: “So now you’re saying chaos works?”

Jeeny: “I’m saying people don’t follow logic — they follow clarity. And clarity comes from connection.”

Host: Jack’s jawline tightened as he turned to face her. The reflections of departing planes flashed across his eyes — bright, fleeting symbols of motion he could never quite control.

Jack: “You sound like a motivational speaker.”

Jeeny: “And you sound like a man afraid of being misunderstood.”

Jack: “I’m not afraid. I’m just realistic. No matter how well you communicate, someone will always twist your words.”

Jeeny: “Then communicate better. Communicate so clearly that twisting them becomes impossible.”

Jack: “That’s naïve.”

Jeeny: “No — that’s mastery. Mandela didn’t end apartheid by shouting. He ended it by talking — to enemies, to doubters, to the world. He understood that words, when chosen right, move more than armies.”

Host: Her eyes — dark and alive — held his, and for a moment, even the noise of the airport fell away. Somewhere, a child laughed, a boarding call echoed, a suitcase thudded, but their silence remained heavier than all of it.

Jack: “You know, you make communication sound like salvation. But sometimes silence speaks louder.”

Jeeny: “Not in a world that’s deaf, Jack. Silence is luxury. The rest of us have to be heard.”

Jack: “Heard, or liked?”

Jeeny: “Heard first. Liked later. But you’ll never reach the world if you refuse to speak its language — not just linguistically, but emotionally.”

Jack: “Emotionally?”

Jeeny: “Yes. People don’t connect with information; they connect with feeling. You can teach facts. You can’t fake resonance.”

Host: The lights of the lounge dimmed slightly, shifting to a soft amber. The sky outside had turned to night. Planes now lifted through darkness — silver wings cutting through clouds, carrying voices, accents, and ambitions toward distant lands.

Jack: “So you’re saying communication is the key to global competition?”

Jeeny: “Not just competition — cooperation. The future belongs to those who can translate empathy into every language.”

Jack: “That’s poetic. But tell that to corporations exploiting entire continents. They communicate just fine.”

Jeeny: “They exploit because they communicate only to dominate. I’m talking about communication that understands, that builds trust — not just profit.”

Jack: “You really think empathy wins in the real world?”

Jeeny: “It does. Eventually. Look at Satya Nadella — he turned Microsoft around not through technology alone, but by changing its culture. By teaching engineers to listen to customers, not just code for them.”

Jack: “And what about those who don’t listen?”

Jeeny: “Then they fade. Empires collapse not from invasion, but from miscommunication.”

Host: Jack’s reflection in the window merged with the blinking lights of a taxiing plane. He watched it for a moment — a steel bird gliding into the unknown, engines roaring like conviction.

He spoke again, this time slower, more thoughtful.

Jack: “You ever wonder if we’re all just speaking different versions of the same truth, and no one’s listening because everyone wants to be right?”

Jeeny: “That’s exactly why communication matters. It’s not about proving who’s right — it’s about creating space where both can exist.”

Jack: “And you think words can do that?”

Jeeny: “Words are all we have. Everything else — borders, politics, trade — they’re just negotiations over meaning. Language is how humanity stays alive.”

Jack: “You make it sound sacred.”

Jeeny: “It is. Every sentence is a bridge. Every misunderstanding, a collapse.”

Host: The announcement system crackled again. “Flight 217 to Singapore is now boarding.” Jeeny’s eyes flicked to the screen — her flight. She stood, slung her bag over her shoulder, and smiled faintly at him.

Jeeny: “You know, you’re brilliant, Jack. But brilliance without communication is just isolation.”

Jack: “And you think talking fixes that?”

Jeeny: “Not talking — connecting. Talking is noise. Connection is meaning.”

Jack: “And if I never learn how to do that?”

Jeeny: “Then you’ll build towers, not bridges.”

Host: The final boarding call echoed, faint yet urgent. Jeeny stepped closer, her hand resting briefly on his shoulder — a gesture both grounding and fleeting. Her voice softened to something almost tender.

Jeeny: “Don’t mistake silence for strength, Jack. The world’s already too quiet where it matters most.”

Jack: “And what about you? You never seem to run out of words.”

Jeeny: “That’s because I’ve seen what happens when people stop speaking — wars begin, hearts close, and progress dies.”

Host: She turned, walking toward the gate, her figure outlined by the cold white light spilling from the corridor beyond. Jack watched, still, the echo of her words reverberating through him like turbulence long after takeoff.

He looked again at the laptop screen — a half-finished proposal, numbers but no narrative. With a long sigh, he opened it again, and this time, he started to write. Not in metrics. In meaning.

Host: Outside, another plane rose into the dark, its engines burning against the night — a symbol of distance, yes, but also of connection.

And as Jack’s fingers moved, slow and deliberate, the lesson of Wolfensohn’s words finally took root in him:

The world doesn’t listen to power — it listens to clarity.
And clarity is the first language of the global soul.