Why real authority doesn’t need to announce itself
The canopy of the forest was filtering the morning light. Overnight dew still clung to the leaves, a slight ruffle of wind away from dropping to the moist earth below.
The animals had been busy since dawn. It is also a life that needs to be lived. There is that constant reminder that in the jungle, you are either moving forward or falling behind.
To the west, the monkeys held a noisy conference over a cluster of ripe berries. An easy win; the harvest would last a month. They’d spend the next few weeks in a comfortable haze of laziness and mischief. They are the jungle equivalent of a team that’s hit quarterly targets by February.
Deeper in the shadows, the Hyenas huddled in the haze of the trees, plotting a raid on the bison the tiger had taken down the night before. They are not hunters but scavengers with a strategy. Even in the jungle, there’s always someone building a business model around someone else’s kill.
All creatures, small and large, had a plan. Plans make the day, earn them food, and promise a better tomorrow. Everyone was a worker. Not everyone was a leader.
The jungle was mostly flat. Green deciduous trees stood tall, and a huge watering hole dominated the western corner. This was prime real estate. On an elevated rocky outcrop was the king’s cave. It overlooked the watering hole. It had a view to kill for. The lion, rather predictably, called himself Leo. Well, what else would he call himself?
Leo woke up early. The refrigerator was stuffed with half an antelope and the juicy parts of a zebra. Yesterday, the idiots had just wandered in rather carelessly. It was easy hunting. Leo was happy. A week of rations lay safe.
Great weather, plenty of food, the promise of a good spring. It was a great time to be king. But then, what is power on its own? It is a false sense of silence. He wanted to be happier. He needed revalidation. He needed to hear it echoed back to him.
The need to massage one’s ego is an affliction that comes with power. Hardly anyone escapes, and it is the most significant symptom of power. For Leo, every day felt like a perfect day for a jaunt through the jungle. More so today.
He descended from the rocky outcrop and sauntered around. He first pinned a jittery Meerkat against a mahogany tree. “Tell me,” he roared, his breath hot and smelling of the zebra’s blood
“Who is the undisputed king of this jungle?” He roared.
“It is you, sir!” the Meerkat squeaked, trembling so hard, “The grounds, the pool, and of course the food chain, all are entirely yours!”
The King was satisfied, but only just. Leo moved on to the zebra. It stood transfixed but composed. It had lost a cousin to the king just yesterday, and knew it had earned at least one day’s grace.
“Who is the king of these plains?” Leo roared again.
The zebra held his gaze for a moment longer than was comfortable, then bowed low. “You are, Great One. Your vision is our command.” There was the faintest tremor in his voice that Leo chose to interpret as reverence.
Fear is not reverence. No one had told Leo that fear ends, while respect often lasts much longer.
Leo’s chest swelled. He felt invincible. An emperor of what stretched in front of him and beyond. A predator of the highest order.
Then, he came upon the Elephant.
The Elephant was busy . It had a long task list. Getting food was on top of his list, survival depended on it. He stood there uprooting a dry tree to reach the succulent roots beneath. He didn’t look up. He didn’t acknowledge the royal currently standing in his shadow.
Leo felt a prickle of annoyance. “Excuse me!” he snarled. “I am asking a question of some importance. Who is the King of this jungle?”
The Elephant continued his work. The sound of snapping wood was the only response.
Incensed, Leo leaped onto a nearby rock to meet him at eye level. “I am talking to you, you grey, oversized idiot! Answer me, or suffer the consequences.”
The Elephant paused. He didn’t roar. He didn’t argue. He simply coiled his trunk around Leo’s midsection, lifted him ten feet into the air like a discarded memo, and slammed him into the dusty earth. Then came a swift, unceremonious kick that sent the King tumbling into a thicket of thorns.
Dazed, bleeding, and with a bruised ego that hurt far more than his ribs, Leo limped out of the bushes. The Elephant had already returned to his roots.
“Good heavens, friend,” Leo coughed, shaking the dust from his mane. “If you didn’t know the answer, you could have just said so. Why thrash someone?”
The Elephant didn’t care to even look up. “I knew the answer perfectly well,” he said, pulling another root free with a calm, decisive tug. “I just didn’t think the question deserved one. The real kings of any jungle are too busy building it to stop and tell you so.”
Leo slunk back to his cave, ribs aching, pride in tatters. He spent the rest of the afternoon aggressively grooming himself to feel better. Which, if you think about it, is just a lion’s version of doom scrolling LinkedIn.
The next time you feel the urge to wander around the office seeking validation — don’t. Nobody is impressed, the Elephant is busy doing real work, and the thicket of thorns is never far away.
If you want to know whether you are truly leading, don’t ask for applause.
Look at your calendar, your conversations, and your impact. You are a builder if your schedule is spent solving hard problems, if people reach out because they trust your advice, and if your energy goes toward enabling the team to win.
You are just Leo if your days are filled with self-congratulatory updates, arrogant walkabouts or offsites that are just holidays in disguise. Remember fear ends and balloons burst. Respect lives on.
Real authority isn’t declared in a PowerPoint deck, a smart comment or demanded in the hallway. Do the work, focus on the roots, and let the results speak for themselves.
Otherwise, you might,someday, meet an elephant and then the thorns are of course waiting.
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