Leadership, in this view, isn’t about having all the answers. It’s about holding the tension between the brutal truth of where we are and the radical hope of where we want to go. And staying in that tension long enough to move the needle.

Today’s leaders—whether officially appointed or self-authorized—face an unprecedented complexity of challenges: climate disruption, democratic backsliding, algorithmic inequality, mass migration, global unrest. These aren’t just technical problems. They resist clear-cut solutions. They cut across values, timeframes, and identities.

And if we’re honest, they often overwhelm us. It’s tempting to retreat into roles, routines, and rhetoric.

That’s why Adaptive Leadership matters. It doesn’t make things easier. But it does make them more navigable. It offers a toolkit for working through complexity without pretending it’s simple.

One way to begin? Shift how you define leadership. Through much trial and experimentation to translate this sophisticated set of ideas into daily practice, I’ve learned it’s most helpful to view leadership as a moment, rather than as a trait or behavior, and certainly not as a person. Stop asking, “Am I a leader?” Start asking, “Am I facing a leadership moment?”

A leadership moment is a specific kind of moment. It’s not about charisma or command. It’s about choice. It’s the moment when your values conflict with your incentives. When you know that raising a hard issue will cost you—but not raising it will cost others. When the easy thing and the right thing are not the same. Twenty years ago, the average executive might encounter two real leadership moments in a day. Today, most people on a team will face five. The world is faster, more entangled, more resistant to default fixes.

So what helps us meet these moments?

First, we learn to “get on the balcony.”

Getting on the balcony means stepping back from the fray. Not disengaging, but observing. It means noticing the patterns beneath the noise. Who’s speaking? Who’s not? What values are clashing? What loyalties are at play? What’s being protected?

This shift in posture—from actor to observer—makes it possible to diagnose the real challenge, not just the presenting problem.

Second, we distinguish technical and adaptive challenges.

Technical challenges have known solutions. Adaptive ones don’t. They require experimentation, discomfort, and learning. They live in the space between what we know and what we need to become.

Trying to solve an adaptive problem with a technical fix is like using a hammer to do open-heart surgery. It causes damage. Adaptive work is slower. It requires patience, trust-building, and the willingness to live in ambiguity.

Third, we regulate distress.

Leadership is about helping people face difficult realities without overwhelming them. Too much heat, and systems burn out. Too little, and nothing changes. The art is in keeping the tension productive.

This is why leadership is not just hard—it’s often lonely. You may be seen as disloyal, naive, or too provocative. You may be tempted to ease up for the sake of short-term harmony. But progress depends on your willingness to stay with the heat.

Fourth, we give work back.

Leaders often feel pressure to carry the load. But real leadership invites others to carry their share. Not by offloading responsibility, but by empowering people to engage their own agency.

When we do the adaptive work for others, we rob them of growth. When we create space for others to struggle, wrestle, and choose—we catalyze transformation.

Fifth, we hold steady.

Leadership moments don’t resolve quickly. They often invite backlash. When you name a hard truth, systems push back. When you challenge a norm, defenders of the status quo mobilize.

The call is not to overpower. It’s to stay present. To absorb heat without shutting down. To resist escalation without retreating. To remain clear, open, and grounded.

Vimal lives these practices. In his work with children of India’s manual scavengers, he leads without needing a podium. He listens deeply. He speaks clearly. He builds slowly. And he holds space for others to step in.

He doesn’t lead because he has authority. He leads because he chooses to.

And that’s what Adaptive Leadership ultimately points us toward: a deeper form of citizenship. Not the legal kind, but the human kind. The kind that says: this is my community, my team, my planet—and I have a role to play in its future.

Whether you’re a CEO or a community organizer, a teacher or a technologist, a parent or a policymaker—you’re likely standing in a leadership moment right now.

The question is: will you see it?

And once you do—what will you choose to do with it?