This is a story about a house on Commotion Street. Note: This is an analogy!
Inside that house, something awful is unfolding.
Upstairs, in one of the bedrooms, the oldest brother is beating up the youngest child. It’s brutal. Repeated. Loud enough for everyone in the house to hear.
The violence is obvious. The harm undeniable. Something needs to be done.
But just as the household begins to respond—confused, afraid, trying to figure out what action to take—there’s a loud banging at the front door.
Armed robbers.
Aggressive. Loud. Demanding entry.
“We’re here to stop the atrocity in your house!” they shout. “Let us in!”
The noise draws attention. Neighbors start to gather. Some are genuinely concerned. Some are just curious. Some start urging the family to open the door.
“They just want to help,” they say. “Let them in. Let them stop the violence.”
Inside, confusion escalates.
The father and mother are shouting.
The siblings and bystanders are divided.
Tension rises, as the crisis inside—the one causing real harm—gets buried beneath the chaos at the door.
And all the while, the youngest child is still being hurt upstairs.
This, to me, is the world we live in today.
It’s a world where power cloaks itself in concern. Where interference is marketed as intervention. Where armed agendas knock on the doors of sovereign homes under the guise of “help.” From Nigeria’s security complexities to Venezuela’s sovereignty battles, from proxy wars to economic sanctions, the lines between help and harm have never been more distorted.
And that’s precisely why leadership today demands more than just good intentions.
It demands courage.
The courage to stay on the right path, even when it’s the harder one.
The courage to choose service over control.
To prioritise substance instead of optics.
To understand your own positioning. Recognize the power you hold and the spaces you occupy. Know how your influence lands, even when you mean well.
As leaders in our various corners—whether as global influencers, community organizers, founders, managers, or mentors—we must ask ourselves some hard questions. Drawing from the story above:
🧭 Am I the older sibling? Unchecked, harming others in ways I refuse to examine?
🧭 Am I the armed robber? Forcing my way in, believing I know what’s best, without really listening?
🧭 Am I the parent? Unsure, overwhelmed, but still responsible—still in a position to act?
And perhaps most critically:
🧭 Who is the child being harmed while we argue, posture, and perform?
Who is left behind in our good intentions, drowned out by the noise, complexity, or confusion we allow to reign?
As we begin this year, I invite you, dear leader (especially those of us with privilege, access, or influence) to reflect deeply on where we stand. Not just where we think we stand, but where we truly sit in the systems we move through.
Leadership is about how your power lands and not just what you intend.– Yop Rwang Pam
May we lead in this year with positioning, perspective, and a bit more quiet courage!
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