Speaking Truth to Power: Pros and Cons

An abiding illustration of the dilemma we sometimes face between indulging in flattery or speaking truth to power can be found in Hans Christian Andersen’s moral fable The Emperor’s New Clothes. We all know the plot: The pompous ruler parades naked before the people, who cheer him on, convinced that he is wearing the finest suit made by the best tailors, but who in reality are fawning impostors. It takes a young boy in the crowd, in his innocence, to expose the truth and shout out that in reality, the emperor is in the buff.

Few of us are immune to flattery or adulation, and the powerful are no exception. Inevitably, it seems that the exercise of power, in both the public and private spheres, all too often confuses and blinds us to the truth, instilling vanity and even arrogance.

Some CEOs and other senior figures like to focus on the symbols associated with their position, insisting on protocol and receiving the reverence they believe they are due. This might be because lauding the CEO reflects well on the company: The prestige of bosses is in direct relation to the reputation of the institution they head; they are the face of the organization, and to a certain extent they and their post are inseparable.

The problem arises when bosses believe these honors are being bestowed on them for who they are rather than for what they represent. One situation where this overreaching pride is often displayed is when a CEO is introduced at a public event. Some expect a eulogy, laden with accolades, but my experience is that genuinely important people, by virtue of their position or track record, tend to need no introduction. In contrast, ambitious or recognition-hungry leaders tend to have long, detailed resumes, lingering on this or that achievement or position.

To be honest, I do not consider myself much of an example of humility, but I believe that one creates a better impression by being discreet regarding introductions. An early mentor of mine—who despite his many achievements always shunned praise—taught me that when one finds oneself the object of adulation, it’s a good idea to ask: “who are they talking about?” Similarly, if the person introducing you mispronounces your name, which happens to me frequently, or forgets some of your achievements or relevant positions, it’s always best to avoid making a big deal and accepting that they were acting with the best intentions. Overreacting in these cases can backfire.

Interestingly, the pomp we often associate with senior positions is not only found in business or administration; there are many striking examples in the academic world. During my first year as president of IE University, I wanted to visit several colleagues from US universities to present our project and establish relationships. Logically, I did not expect them all to open their doors to me, and some politely declined my request. We were a young university and the academic world is generally conservative and not very receptive to newcomers. What shocked me most was the agenda prepared for me by the president’s staff of a prestigious institution that explicitly stated, “11.00–11.05 am: Brief greeting at the door of the president’s office.”

I still joke to this day with my personal assistant about the protocol on that occasion. Fortunately, over time I have been able to establish a closer relationship with that president, and eventually we even had lunch together. As a result of that experience, I resolved to pay the same level of respect to everybody I meet, regardless of their status, and of course to avoid even the appearance of condescension that some people perceive in authority figures. Using our sense of humor always helps in these circumstances. Unfortunately, I often do not have the time to respond directly to the requests or messages I receive, and instead I sometimes delegate to my colleagues. On other occasions, I respond directly, because I think it is a good idea, and even healthy, to maintain open communication channels with people inside and outside the organization, from different levels and generations, for example through LinkedIn.

Returning to the emperor’s new clothes, and specifically to the question of how honest to be with one’s boss, from a deontological perspective, in terms of best managerial practice, the answer should be: completely. After all, managers are employed to give their honest professional opinion, especially if they believe it is relevant to the company, even if it bothers the boss. It is a matter of compliance, of professionalism.

However, many of us know from experience that as a rule, bosses do not like to be disagreed with and take criticism, or opinions contrary to their judgment, especially if it occurs in a meeting with other people, badly. In general, bosses see contradiction as questioning their authority. When I ask my students during the first session of my Competitive Strategy course at IE Business School’s MBA program—who are usually executives with more than five years of management experience and from different countries—about the ideal attributes required of a CEO, one of the most frequent responses is that they should be a good listener. I think this indicates a desire for a more open approach on the part of their bosses, to be able to talk honestly with them. The response also reflects an understanding that decision-making requires listening to a wide range of views.

As happens in other contexts where the highest authority does not have all the information or specific knowledge on a topic, and needs advisors, CEOs would clearly benefit from listening more and talking less. After posing this question, I engage in a conversation with my students about whether they tell their bosses what they think in meetings or if they are encouraged to contradict the opinion of their superiors. There is always one participant who argues for the need to be candid and to be able to speak one’s mind in a reasoned, polite manner, regardless of the consequences. However, most of them recognize that it is not easy to disagree with their bosses, let alone in public.

Benjamin Franklin, one of the fathers of American Independence, was in favor of caution and not speaking one’s mind, because in his experience any kind of criticism always offends the recipient. Franklin was his newly constituted nation’s first ambassador to Paris, and possibly his diplomatic experience led him to be cautious in form and words. Walter Isaacson explains in his excellent biography, that “the older he got, the more Franklin learned (with a few notable lapses) to follow his own advice. He used silence wisely, employed an indirect style of persuasion, and feigned modesty and na?veté in discussions.”

In his autobiography, Franklin explains that “When another asserted something that I thought an error, I denied myself the pleasure of contradicting him,” adding a recommendation to keep in mind when defending an argument, “For these fifty years past no one has ever heard a dogmatical expression escape me.” Franklin’s restraint reminds me of an observation made by a coach who had worked for the CEOs of several Fortune 500 companies, who told me that, in his experience, negative feedback, even if it was constructive, justified and tactfully communicated, was usually turned down. Only in a very low percentage of cases, below 5%, did those who received it react positively and were grateful for it, demonstrating significant emotional intelligence on their part.

This is consistent with our own experience. We may say we want the unvarnished truth, and even beg our friends to correct us when we get something wrong, but let’s be honest, criticism always leaves us feeling a little ruffled. Isaacson explains that as he gained in his knowledge of people, Franklin understood the wisdom of developing his “velvet-tongued and sweetly passive style of circumspect argument that would make him seem sage to some, insinuating and manipulative to others, but inflammatory to almost nobody. The method would also become, often with a nod to Franklin, a staple in modern management guides and self-improvement books.”

The possibility of contradicting or criticizing the boss, even if privately and well-intentioned, can be further complicated by cultural factors. One of the variables proposed by Geert Hofstede to measure cross-cultural diversity was “power distance,” the set of characteristics that define the relationship between bosses and subordinates, such as treatment, formalities, interaction in meetings and relationship protocols. Japan is arguably the benchmark for maximum power distance, while the United States and the Scandinavian countries are examples of minimal power distance. Unsurprisingly, the culture in countries with shorter power distance encourages open debate, and even criticism or dissent toward superiors.

Validating Franklin’s approach, contemporary studies show that going along with one’s superiors, even flattering them, can be good for one’s career. On the other hand, relying exclusively on performance or personal worth is no guarantee of promotion. Flattery may be better received by recently appointed bosses, who may lack confidence and need support. In a crisis or emergency, such as the pandemic we passed some years ago, there is also an understandable tendency to keep one’s own council, for fear of losing one’s job. However, the research also reveals that serial sycophants are often criticized by their colleagues, something that can also eventually turn against them. The results of this research, as well as my students’ comments on the characteristics of a good CEO, suggest to me that flattery is not just an issue for those lower down the food chain, and that at least half of the responsibility lies with bosses themselves.

Of course, the emperor shares responsibility for his nakedness, even if he wants to blame others. It’s the same with CEOs who encourage flattery. On the one hand, they distort the nature of the debate at management meetings, where “nothing personal, it’s just business” should be the guiding principle. In addition, the running of the company itself, the objective examination of its performance, the identification of faults and their causes, and the remedying of these faults are compromised.

In this respect, a particularly recommendable thinker is Niccolò Machiavelli, whose mentioned The Prince has been a reference manual for many leaders, including CEOs, over the last five centuries. His philosophy is an expression of the absolute pragmatism required to stay in power, regardless of any moral concerns. Therefore, his suggestions on how to obtain the best advice from subordinates and avoid flattery are useful from a technical perspective, albeit devoid of any deontological consideration: Machiavelli explains:

“The only way to guard yourself from flatterers is to let people understand that to tell you the truth does not offend you. However, when everyone feels free to tell you the truth, respect for you goes down. Therefore a wise prince ought to follow a third course by choosing the wise men in his state, and giving to them alone the liberty of speaking the truth to him, and then only of those things of which he inquires and of none others. However, he ought to question them about everything, and listen to their opinions, and afterwards form his own conclusions. With these counselors, separately and collectively, he ought to behave in such a way that each of them should know that the more freely he speaks, the more he will be preferred. Outside of these, he should listen to no one, pursue the thing resolved on, and stick to his decisions. He who does otherwise is either beaten by flatterers, or is so often changed by varying opinions that he is laughed at.”

With experience and age, some managers can become closed to the ideas of others, although there are also impetuous and arrogant young leaders who refuse outside assistance. Machiavelli was right: Being open to the advice of the wise increases the chances of success in power.

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