The People in Charge Are Just Flawed Humans
As a young man, I had an unhealthy fear of adults. They seemed like a different species; creatures with superior awareness.
And yes, to some extent adults do grow wiser with age. But I eventually learned another truth: they’re just big kids with their own flaws, blind spots, and biases.
As a child, I was puzzled when adults were judgmental or discriminatory, especially toward me.
I assumed they understood me, that compassion came automatically with age. It was an overestimation of what time alone does to a person. Wisdom doesn’t just show up on your birthday; time is a factor, but not the only one.
I once made a meme of a young woman giving the finger with the caption: “Most grow older, some even grow up.” It’s true. Growth is uneven. Someone might be leveled up in one area while still a man-baby in another. Anaïs Nin put it best:
“We do not grow absolutely, chronologically. We grow sometimes in one dimension, and not in another; unevenly. We grow partially. We are relative. We are mature in one realm, childish in another. The past, present, and future mingle and pull us backward, forward, or fix us in the present. We are made of layers, cells, constellations.”
I can’t top that. But I can say this: I’ve tried not to neglect my inner child. I’ve kept a sense of play, wonder, and buffoonery.
Too many people throw those things away in the name of adulthood, and they become serious people who are, ironically, a joke. At the same time, I’ve worked to “level up” the neglected parts of myself, facing my flaws and integrating my shadow.
Still, there are blind spots. That’s the nature of stunted growth: you don’t know where you’re stunted until life, or other people, show you.
Sometimes I feel like I’ve got it all figured out, until my own work or reflection reveals how foolish I really am. Those moments sting, but they also ground me.
They remind me I’m human, nothing more. That realization is strangely liberating.
Being an adult is not becoming a different creature; it’s just being a kid with more XP. The same biases and heuristics warp my vision; I just wear bigger shoes now.
Now, as an adult, I look at kids and see myself in them. I even understand why the adults around me sometimes wanted to throttle me. Yes, that kid is a product of his environment; but he’s also an annoying little shit. Compassion only goes so far.
And this brings me to leadership. Many people see their leaders the way I once saw adults: putting them on a pedestal, admiring their qualities, feeling proud when they seem relatable.
But this is a paradox: we want our leaders to be just like us, and at the same time, a special breed of human.
Most of us don’t know how to tell a good leader from a bad one; we go by how they make us feel. That’s why so many successful leaders are “people persons.” They know the lines to say, the gestures to make. But charisma doesn’t equal wisdom.
In a democracy, many rise to power not because they’re the most competent, but because they’re the best at getting power.
Winning is the skill. Governing well is secondary. The real work often falls to the policy wonks in the background, while the showman takes the spotlight. But when the showman is too stunted to recognize his own folly or lean on experts, things come undone.
We want relatable leaders who are also superhuman. But the reality is that the very traits that make someone excel in one arena often come at the expense of others. That uneven growth makes them flawed, and their flaws spread outward through their influence and decisions.
When a fool takes the stage, folly rules the crowd. And that’s how we end up with populists (leaders like Trump) whose stunted humanity becomes everyone else’s problem.