The Power of Vulnerability

Why Great Leaders Don’t Hide Their Struggles

Leadership often comes with the illusion of invincibility. We like to think that the best leaders have all the answers, that they forge ahead with unshakable confidence. But the truth is, the most effective and inspiring leaders aren’t the ones who pretend to be bulletproof. They’re the ones who let their people in, who admit their struggles, and who show that strength and vulnerability aren’t opposites—they’re partners.

The Illusion of Strength vs. The Reality of Influence

Take this week’s news out of Rome. Pope Francis, frail and battling from a hospital bed, didn’t issue a decree or flex papal muscle. He asked for prayers. A simple, human plea from a man whose voice carries across continents. It’s not the first time he’s leaned into vulnerability—think of his early days washing the feet of prisoners—but this moment cuts deeper. Here’s a global figure, nearing the end, stripping away pretense to say, “I need you.” The response? Millions pausing, reflecting, connecting. Not because he commanded it, but because he revealed it.

Contrast that with the titans we often lionize. General George Patton, stomping through World War II with a scowl and a swagger, didn’t have time for softness. He slapped a shell-shocked soldier and called it motivation—toughness as gospel. Steve Jobs, too, built Apple’s empire with a relentless, almost mythic intensity, famously chewing out teams until they bent reality to his will. These men were giants, no question. Their stoicism drove results, won wars, shipped iPhones. But did it forge loyalty beyond fear? Did it build teams that’d run through walls not because they had to, but because they wanted to? That’s where the cracks in the armor—or lack thereof—tell the tale.

Patton’s soldiers followed because they’d be court-martialed if they didn’t. Jobs’s engineers innovated under a shadow of dread—genius flowed, but so did burnout. Now, I’m not knocking their legacies. Results matter, and they delivered. But there’s a ceiling to leadership that rules by iron alone. Vulnerability, wielded right, punches through that ceiling. It’s not about sobbing in the corner; it’s about showing the human beneath the title. And when you do, people don’t just follow—they commit.

My Own Moment of Vulnerability

I learned this lesson the hard way during my time at BodeTree, the first company I founded. We had built much of our platform around data sourced from Intuit, the maker of QuickBooks. Then, one day, Intuit decided to discontinue a major aspect of that data source, effectively cutting off half of our customers. It wasn’t just a setback; it was a death blow.

I convinced myself I had to keep it together for the team. Leaders don’t panic, right? So, I kept my head down, worked late, and tried to engineer a solution in isolation. I thought my job was to shield the team from the crisis, not to let them see that I was flailing.

Then one morning, I snapped. Not at them—at myself. In a team huddle, I ditched the script.

“Guys,” I said, “I’m in over my head here. I don’t have all the answers, and I’m scrambling to keep us afloat. I need your help.”

Silence.

Then, one of my developers—a quiet but brilliant guy—spoke up. He suggested we cut Intuit out of the loop altogether. Instead of relying on their data, we could go straight to the bank transactions and handle the accounting ourselves. It was a bold move, one that changed everything. Within an hour, we had a plan—not mine, ours. The team didn’t just solve the problem; they owned it. More than that, the dynamic shifted. They weren’t just clocking in anymore; they were all in.

The turning point wasn’t the solution itself—it was the moment I stopped pretending I had it all figured out.

How to Apply This in Your Own Leadership

Vulnerability isn’t about weakness. It’s about trust. It’s about creating an environment where people feel safe enough to step up. Here’s how you can test it in your own leadership:

1. Say “I don’t know” more often.

• The next time you’re faced with a challenge, resist the urge to bluff. Instead, admit you’re unsure and invite input. You’ll be surprised at how quickly people step up when they sense they’re needed.

2. Ask for help before you need it.

• Don’t wait until you’re drowning. Regularly ask your team for their perspectives, even when things seem fine. It normalizes collaboration instead of last-minute desperation.

3. Share struggles, not just successes.

• People respect leaders who acknowledge their challenges. It makes them relatable. It also empowers the team to contribute, rather than just execute orders.

Vulnerability isn’t about spilling your emotions or losing control. It’s about inviting others into the process. When you do, you don’t just solve problems—you build a team that’s truly invested in the mission.

Patton and Jobs may have commanded empires, but Pope Francis built something arguably stronger: loyalty, trust, and a willingness to follow. And when things get tough, that’s the kind of leadership that lasts.