Tuesday, August 12, 2025

The Uncrowned Leader

In the grand theatre of local politics, Sudewo has somehow managed to play the dual role of taxman and provocateur, hiking the land and building tax by a jaw-dropping 250 percent while simultaneously daring the villagers to rally “5,000 or even 50,000” strong, as though the people’s anger were some sort of spectator sport. Not content with merely emptying pockets, he proceeded to empty hospital corridors too, dismissing 220 staff from RSUD Soewondo without so much as a parting handshake, let alone severance pay. His eventual apology, delivered after hastily reversing the tax rise, landed with all the warmth of a voicemail from a debt collector, prompting banners, megaphones, and chants demanding he resign “like a gentleman” — or be escorted off stage by the very audience he underestimated.
So deep ran the public’s exasperation that they began to play linguistic gymnastics with his very name, reversing “Sudewo” into a Javanese expression, "O wedus" meaning "O goat" that, when spoken aloud, conveyed the sort of sharp, teeth-gritted disdain reserved for moments when mere profanity feels insufficient. It became a rallying in-joke, a low-cost yet high-impact protest, whispered in markets, shouted at rallies, and printed on cardboard signs with a gleeful irreverence. In the mouths of the frustrated, this playful inversion transformed into a cultural meme, a linguistic slap that needed no translation, and one that the regent could hardly fail to recognise as the public’s way of saying: “We see you, and we are not amused.”
In the end, the scandal surrounding Mr Sudewo has become less about policy and more about performance art — a tragicomic act in which the lead refuses to leave the stage despite the audience booing, hissing, and, in some cases, rearranging his name into a punchline. Every reversal, every apology, every clumsy attempt at damage control now feels like an encore no one asked for. The villagers, however, seem determined to deliver their own final curtain call, and one suspects that when it comes, it will be louder, sharper, and infinitely more memorable than anything the regent has scripted for himself.
Sudewo’s behaviour exemplifies the kind of leadership that mistakes bravado for courage and provocation for engagement. By imposing a crushing 250 percent tax increase on ordinary citizens, he revealed either a profound disconnect from the daily struggles of his constituents or a reckless disregard for their welfare. His subsequent challenge for the people to “bring 5,000 or even 50,000” protestors was not an act of transparency or democratic openness, but a thinly veiled display of arrogance — the political equivalent of poking a hornet’s nest and acting surprised when stung. The mass sacking of hospital staff without severance pay further underscored a callous approach to governance, one that treats human livelihoods as disposable. Such conduct is not merely misguided; it erodes public trust, undermines the dignity of office, and fuels cynicism towards the very institutions meant to serve the people. In a functioning democracy, a leader who repeatedly alienates and antagonises those they serve is not only unfit to govern but deserving of removal for the health of the community.

In The Art of the Leader (1990, Prentice Hall), William A. Cohen emphasises that genuine leadership is grounded in service, humility, and the ability to remain connected to the people one leads. A leader who prioritises personal pride or demonstrates arrogance over empathy risks alienating the very base that grants legitimacy to their authority. In the case of Mr Sudewo, the 250 percent tax hike, combined with his public challenge for massive protests, reflects a classic leadership error that Cohen describes as “leading from above rather than alongside.” This approach creates an image of a ruler who governs at the people, not with them, eroding the essential trust needed for effective governance.
Cohen also warns that dismissing the welfare of subordinates — as seen in the abrupt termination of 220 hospital staff without severance — signals not only poor management but also a dangerous detachment from the human element of leadership. Such actions contradict the principle Cohen calls “caring for your people,” which is central to inspiring loyalty and respect. When a leader fails in this regard, corrective measures like apologies or policy reversals often fall flat, because they address symptoms rather than the root cause: a lack of genuine regard for the governed.
From Cohen’s framework, Sudewo’s conduct demonstrates the perils of leadership without grounded moral authority. By choosing provocation over dialogue and control over collaboration, he has diminished both his personal credibility and the integrity of his office. In Cohen’s terms, a leader who cannot regain the trust of his people should step aside, for continued tenure under such circumstances serves neither the leader nor the community.

Based on The Art of the Leader by William A. Cohen, Chapter One lays the foundation for understanding leadership not as a matter of rank or position, but as a set of behaviours and principles that inspire others to follow. Cohen opens by asserting that anyone can become a leader, regardless of formal authority, as long as they demonstrate initiative, integrity, and the ability to influence others through example and service. He draws heavily from military experience, particularly his time in the U.S. Air Force, to illustrate how leadership emerges in moments of crisis and decision-making.
The chapter emphasises that leadership is about taking charge in uncertain situations, motivating people toward a shared goal, and maintaining morale even when resources are limited. Cohen introduces the idea of the “uncrowned leader”—someone who may not hold the title but naturally commands respect and action. This concept challenges traditional hierarchies and encourages readers to lead from wherever they stand.

Cohen’s idea of the “uncrowned leader”—someone who leads through influence, character, and action rather than formal authority—resonates deeply across cultures. In the Indonesian context, this archetype finds powerful echoes in figures like Buya Hamka, who, despite not holding political office, shaped moral discourse and inspired generations through his writings and spiritual leadership. Likewise, in more grassroots settings, local community organisers, street educators, or even warung owners who rally their neighbourhoods during crises embody this principle.
These individuals don’t wear uniforms or sit in government offices, yet their presence commands respect. They lead by example, speak truth to power, and often become the moral compass of their communities. Cohen’s “uncrowned leader” is not just a theory—it’s a living reality in societies where formal leadership often falters, and real guidance comes from those who step up without being asked.
In contrast to figures like Bupati Sudewo, whose authority is formal but whose leadership is questioned, these uncrowned leaders earn their legitimacy through service, empathy, and consistency. They remind us that leadership is not granted—it’s earned.

Chapter Two explores the concept of “taking charge” as the essence of leadership. Cohen argues that real leaders are defined by their ability to step forward in moments of uncertainty, make decisions confidently, and assume responsibility even when the path is unclear. He draws from military examples to show that leadership is not about waiting for orders—it’s about recognising what needs to be done and doing it.
The chapter also introduces the idea that leadership is situational. A person becomes a leader by responding to the needs of the moment, not by holding a title. Cohen stresses that initiative, courage, and the willingness to act are what separate leaders from followers. He encourages readers to embrace challenges, take calculated risks, and lead with conviction, even in the face of adversity.

Chapter Three delves into the concept of influence—specifically, how leaders can motivate others without relying on formal authority or coercion. Cohen introduces three primary strategies of influence: manipulation, persuasion, and inspiration. He argues that while manipulation may yield short-term results, it erodes trust and damages morale. Persuasion, on the other hand, involves logic and reason, appealing to people’s intellect. But the most powerful and sustainable form of influence, according to Cohen, is inspiration—leading by example, embodying values, and igniting a shared sense of purpose.
Cohen draws from military and business examples to show how inspirational leaders create loyalty and high morale, even in difficult circumstances. He emphasises that influence is not about control—it’s about connection. A true leader doesn’t just tell people what to do; they make others want to follow.

In Chapter Four of The Art of the Leader, William A. Cohen explores the indispensable role of decision-making in effective leadership. He argues that leadership, at its core, is the ability to make decisions—often under pressure, frequently with incomplete information, and always with accountability. A leader who hesitates indefinitely, paralysed by the pursuit of perfect data or universal consensus, forfeits the very essence of leadership. Cohen draws upon military examples to illustrate that decisive action, even when imperfect, is preferable to inaction.
He emphasises that courage is not merely a personal trait but a professional necessity. Leaders must be willing to take calculated risks, knowing that the burden of responsibility cannot be delegated. While tasks may be assigned to others, the consequences of decisions remain firmly with the leader. Cohen warns against the seductive trap of endless analysis, which often masquerades as prudence but ultimately leads to stagnation. True leaders, he insists, act—not recklessly, but resolutely.

In Chapter Five of The Art of the Leader, William A. Cohen turns his attention to the concept of morale—not as a vague emotional state, but as a strategic asset that leaders must actively cultivate. He asserts that high morale is not a luxury; it is a necessity for any team aiming to perform at its peak. Cohen draws from military and organisational contexts to demonstrate that morale directly influences performance, resilience, and cohesion. A leader’s role, therefore, is not merely to manage tasks but to foster an environment where people feel valued, motivated, and united by a shared purpose.
He argues that morale stems from clarity of mission, recognition of effort, and a sense of belonging. Leaders who communicate openly, reward initiative, and embody the values they preach are far more likely to inspire loyalty and commitment. Cohen warns that neglecting morale leads to disengagement, turnover, and ultimately failure. In his view, morale is not soft—it is the steel thread that holds a team together under pressure.

In Chapter Six, Cohen discusses the importance of setting the example as a foundational principle of leadership. He argues that no matter how eloquent a leader’s words may be, it is their actions that ultimately define their credibility. People follow what leaders do far more than what they say. Cohen insists that leaders must embody the values, discipline, and commitment they expect from others. This is not merely about optics—it’s about integrity and consistency.
Drawing from military traditions, Cohen illustrates how officers who share hardships with their troops earn respect and loyalty. A leader who demands excellence must first demonstrate it. Whether in dress, punctuality, work ethic, or moral conduct, the leader’s behaviour sets the tone for the entire organisation. Cohen warns that hypocrisy—saying one thing and doing another—is the fastest way to erode trust. In his view, leadership by example is not optional; it is the very essence of influence.

In Chapter Seven, Cohen explores the concept of communication as the lifeblood of leadership. He argues that no matter how brilliant a leader’s strategy may be, it is meaningless if it cannot be clearly conveyed to others. Communication, in Cohen’s view, is not simply about transmitting information—it is about creating understanding, building trust, and inspiring action. He emphasises that leaders must be both articulate and authentic, speaking with clarity and conviction while remaining open to feedback.
Cohen draws from military and corporate examples to show that poor communication leads to confusion, low morale, and operational failure. He insists that leaders must master both formal and informal channels, from speeches and memos to casual conversations and body language. Above all, he warns against the dangers of ambiguity and mixed messages. For Cohen, effective communication is not a soft skill—it is a strategic weapon.

In Chapter Eight, Cohen focuses on the principle of taking care of your people. He argues that leadership is not merely about achieving objectives or enforcing discipline—it is fundamentally about serving those you lead. Cohen insists that when leaders genuinely care for their team members’ well-being, development, and dignity, they unlock deeper levels of loyalty, performance, and initiative. This care must be visible, consistent, and sincere—not a managerial tactic, but a moral commitment.
Drawing from military and organisational examples, Cohen shows that leaders who protect their people, advocate for their needs, and invest in their growth are far more effective than those who lead through fear or detachment. He warns against treating people as disposable assets or mere tools for productivity. For Cohen, the true measure of a leader is not the number of followers they command, but how well they support and elevate those followers. Leadership, in this chapter, is framed as a relationship built on trust, empathy, and mutual respect.

Chapter Nine
centres on the principle of developing your people. Cohen argues that leadership is not just about directing others—it is about helping them grow. He insists that a true leader must invest in the personal and professional development of their team, recognising that the long-term success of any organisation depends on the strength and capability of its individuals.
Cohen emphasises that development is not limited to formal training programmes. It includes mentoring, giving constructive feedback, creating opportunities for challenge, and encouraging initiative. Leaders must be teachers, coaches, and role models. He warns against hoarding knowledge or authority, stating that empowering others is not a threat—it is a multiplier of impact. For Cohen, the mark of a great leader is not how much they achieve alone, but how many others they help become leaders themselves.

In light of Cohen’s Chapter Nine, one can mount a rather pointed critique of leadership styles that thrive on dependency. Cohen’s ethos stands in stark contrast to leaders who deliberately keep their subordinates in the dark, either by withholding information, limiting autonomy, or creating a culture of fear disguised as discipline. Such leaders may appear powerful in the short term, but they are, in essence, building empires of sand—structures that crumble the moment they are absent.
Cohen’s insistence on developing people is not merely a moral imperative; it is a strategic necessity. Leaders who fear being outshone by their team betray a fundamental insecurity. They confuse control with competence. In reality, the most competent leaders are those who cultivate successors, not suppress them. Cohen would argue that true leadership is measured not by how indispensable one becomes, but by how well one equips others to thrive independently.
This critique becomes especially relevant in contexts where authority is treated as a personal possession rather than a public responsibility. Cohen’s model invites us to reimagine leadership as stewardship—an act of service that multiplies capability rather than monopolises it.

Chapter Ten explores the principle: Exploit Your Success. In this chapter, Cohen argues that many leaders, upon achieving a breakthrough or victory, make the mistake of pausing, retreating, or becoming complacent. He draws from military strategy—particularly the teachings of Clausewitz and Sun Tzu—to assert that success should not be a resting point but a launching pad. Once momentum is gained, a leader must press forward, consolidate gains, and expand influence. The idea is to turn a single win into a cascade of victories.
Cohen warns against the temptation to “play it safe” after a triumph. He believes that hesitation can squander opportunity and allow adversaries—or competitors—to regroup. Instead, he urges leaders to act decisively, build on their achievements, and use the energy of success to drive further progress. For Cohen, exploiting success is not about arrogance or overreach—it’s about strategic timing and bold follow-through.

Chapter Eleven focuses on the principle of controlling the temperature—that is, managing conflict and tension within a team or organisation. Cohen argues that effective leaders must be able to regulate emotional climates, especially during moments of disagreement, stress, or crisis. Rather than escalating conflict or suppressing dissent, a leader should act as a stabilising force, maintaining composure and guiding others toward resolution.
He also discusses the importance of delegation in these moments. Leaders who try to micromanage every conflict or decision risk burnout and bottlenecks. Cohen encourages leaders to trust their teams, distribute responsibility, and empower others to handle challenges. This not only reduces pressure on the leader but also builds resilience and ownership within the group.
Ultimately, Cohen sees conflict not as a threat but as an opportunity for growth—provided the leader knows how to keep the temperature from boiling over.

Chapter Twelve centres on the principle: Make Decisions. In this chapter, Cohen underscores that decisive action is one of the most critical traits of effective leadership. He argues that hesitation, endless deliberation, or fear of making the wrong choice can paralyse an organisation. Leaders must be willing to act—even with incomplete information—because waiting for perfect clarity often means missing the moment entirely.
Cohen draws from military and business examples to show that bold decisions, even if imperfect, are often better than no decision at all. He emphasises that leaders must cultivate the courage to choose, the humility to adjust course when needed, and the discipline to follow through. For Cohen, decision-making is not just a technical skill—it is a moral responsibility. A leader who refuses to decide is, in effect, deciding to let others drift.

Chapter Thirteen explores the principle: Encourage Initiative. In this chapter, Cohen argues that one of the most powerful things a leader can do is to foster a culture where people feel empowered to act without waiting for permission. He believes initiative is the lifeblood of innovation, adaptability, and resilience. Leaders who encourage initiative are not afraid of losing control—they understand that distributed energy and creativity lead to stronger outcomes.
Cohen warns against creating environments where people are punished for trying something new or stepping outside rigid boundaries. He insists that mistakes made in the spirit of initiative are far more valuable than passive obedience. For Cohen, a leader’s role is to create psychological safety, reward proactive behaviour, and model the courage to act.
Ultimately, he sees initiative not as a luxury but as a necessity—especially in fast-moving, high-stakes environments. A team that waits for orders is a team that falls behind.

Cohen’s principle of encouraging initiative offers a sharp lens through which to critique bureaucratic leadership styles that rely heavily on rigid hierarchies and procedural obedience. In such systems, individuals are often discouraged from thinking independently or acting without explicit instruction. The result is a culture of passivity, where problems fester while everyone waits for a memo, a meeting, or a ministerial nod.
Cohen would argue that this is not leadership—it is administrative paralysis masquerading as order. When initiative is stifled, organisations lose their agility, their creativity, and their moral courage. Leaders who demand total control may feel secure, but they are, in fact, breeding dependency and fear. Cohen’s model insists that true leadership is about distributing courage, not centralising authority.
He would likely challenge bureaucracies to rethink their obsession with protocol and instead cultivate environments where people are trusted to act, even if imperfectly. Because in the real world, waiting for perfect instructions often means missing the moment to make a meaningful difference.

Chapter Fourteen focuses on the principle: Know Your Job. In this chapter, Cohen argues that no matter how charismatic or visionary a leader may be, they must possess a deep understanding of their own responsibilities. Leadership is not merely about inspiring others—it is also about competence. Cohen insists that a leader must be technically proficient, aware of the operational details, and capable of making informed decisions based on real knowledge, not just intuition or delegation.
He warns against the trap of becoming a “figurehead”—someone who looks the part but lacks substance. For Cohen, knowing your job means being able to roll up your sleeves when necessary, speak the language of your team, and earn respect through demonstrated expertise. It’s not enough to lead from the front; you must also know what you’re leading people into.
Ultimately, Cohen sees mastery of one’s role as the foundation of credibility. Without it, leadership becomes hollow performance.

Cohen’s principle of “Know Your Job” offers a potent critique of leadership styles that prioritise optics over substance. In many organisations—especially those steeped in political or bureaucratic culture—leaders often ascend through networks, charisma, or symbolic gestures, rather than through demonstrated competence. The result is a leadership class that excels at public relations but falters when confronted with operational complexity.
Cohen would argue that this is a dangerous illusion. When leaders lack technical understanding, they become reliant on advisors, consultants, or subordinates to fill the gaps. While delegation is essential, blind dependence is not. A leader who cannot grasp the mechanics of their own domain is vulnerable to manipulation, misjudgement, and erosion of trust.
Moreover, Cohen’s model challenges the idea that leadership is purely about vision. He insists that credibility stems from mastery—not just of abstract strategy, but of the gritty realities that teams face on a daily basis. A leader who knows their job can ask the right questions, spot inconsistencies, and make decisions that resonate with those on the ground.
Cohen’s critique is a call to substance over spectacle—to leadership that earns respect not through theatrics, but through competence.

Cohen’s critique becomes especially piercing when applied to public figures who seem to prioritise performance over proficiency. In many political contexts, leaders are celebrated for their charisma, their slogans, or their ability to dominate headlines. They master the art of visibility, but often neglect the art of governance. Cohen would argue that such figures are not truly leading—they are acting.
He would likely challenge the kind of leadership that thrives on ceremonial gestures: ribbon-cuttings, photo ops, and viral soundbites. These may generate applause, but they do not solve problems. When a leader cannot explain the systems they oversee or fails to grasp the consequences of their policies, they become a liability cloaked in popularity.
Cohen’s model demands more. It calls for leaders who understand the machinery behind the message—who can walk into a crisis and speak with authority not because they memorised a briefing, but because they know the terrain. In this sense, Cohen’s framework is a quiet rebellion against the cult of image. It insists that real leadership is backstage, in the hard, unglamorous work of knowing your job.

Based on Cohen’s own framing and the broader interpretation of The Art of the Leader, the central message of the book is this:
Leadership is not a matter of charisma, title, or innate talent—it is a disciplined practice rooted in action, integrity, and service. Cohen insists that anyone can become a leader by mastering a set of principles drawn from military experience and adapted to civilian life. These principles—ranging from taking charge and setting the example to developing people and making decisions—are not abstract ideals but practical behaviours that must be lived daily.
Cohen’s leadership philosophy is deeply humanistic. He does not advocate for authoritarian control or manipulative influence. Instead, he promotes a model of leadership grounded in empathy, courage, and moral responsibility. A true leader, in Cohen’s view, is someone who earns trust, inspires initiative, and creates conditions where others can thrive. Leadership is not about being the loudest voice in the room—it is about being the most reliable presence when things go wrong.
Ultimately, Cohen’s book is a call to lead with substance, not spectacle—to be the kind of leader who doesn’t just command, but uplifts.

And to close, let us always remember Cohen’s enduring message: “Leadership possesses extraordinary power. It can spell the difference between triumph and disaster in anything you undertake—whether for yourself or for any group you’re part of.”

[Bahasa]