Empathetic leadership seems like one of those things that should be simple enough to define, but in conversations with colleagues across the field, coworkers, History Leadership Institute participants, and this working group, I realized how complex and personal it is. There are no quick fixes or five easy steps, no training module or book to assign that gets everyone on the same page. Like happiness or any number of other commendable things, empathetic leadership is not a destination: it is a manner of traveling. And the more I discuss it with others and hear their ideas and experiences, the more I realize that the normal methods of training and models available to us as (mostly) nonprofits in a late capitalist society are insufficient for the radical changes we need, and without which our field will continue to suffer and decay. Leadership guidance based on sheer profit, numbers and “productivity,” or other measures of corporate success are not going to work for us or the communities we exist to serve.
The more I hear and research, the more I understand that so many people define empathetic leadership in terms of a person: someone who modeled this approach, perhaps unconsciously, to them by listening to them, seeing their value, and helping them find their unique place in the overall mission. It could be a supervisor, but it could just as easily be a teacher, coach, relative, or peer. Empathetic leadership seems to have been modeled most often to people in their personal lives, by those who may or may not have identified themselves as leaders but nonetheless had a profound impact on how those folks today choose to show up in the workplace and want to influence others through their own leadership sphere. When asked about a great leader they know or knew, people don’t often mention the money or numbers they brought in or the cachet they brought to the board room. They focus on how that person made them feel, and how those feelings translated into action. A supervisor who let them adjust their schedule to accommodate school pick-up or medical appointments; a teacher who rescheduled an exam after a traumatic event or kept snacks in their classroom for hungry students; a parent who encouraged them to keep trying after a setback. Someone who saw them as a complex human with needs that deserve to be considered, and with a unique contribution that should be respected and cultivated.
The reverse can also be true: people can define empathetic leadership in terms of the leader they never had and the opportunities they were never given, defining it in opposition to toxic cultures and out-of-touch leadership they have experienced. This can be just as motivating as new people move into leadership roles and reflect on ways their path could have been made smoother and their contributions greater if they’d just had a chance. In becoming empathetic leaders ourselves, we should reflect on the forces that hindered or slowed down our movement into these roles. As more historically marginalized people take seats at the leadership table, we must ensure we are also paving the roads we found so difficult for others.
To me, an empathetic model of leadership for the public history field is based on valuing diverse forms of expertise, empowering staff with the tools and resources they need, seeking input and advice from all levels, and nurturing authentic and honest relationships in the workplace. Empathetic leaders are listeners, pragmatic problem solvers, and introspective people who interrogate their own biases, acknowledge their privilege when they have it, and react to challenges without defensiveness.
Conditions of empathetic leadership can create workplaces with more stability and resilience as decisions are made with the input of many relevant perspectives, rather than relying on just one or a few views from the top. They enable institutional memory and continuity as staff find meaning in their work and the means to stay and grow with an institution long-term, instead of needing to leave for more money, respect, or growth opportunities. They foster cultures of transparency and mission buy-in, where people feel connected to and motivated by a set of shared values, and have the trust and safety to ask questions, identify biases and misalignments, and speak truth to power.
Empathetic leadership is not just about what it enables behind the scenes at our institutions. It’s also about the kind of work it enables us to do in our communities. Staff working in an empathetic leadership environment are capable of incredible things, including:
- doing challenging work in challenging circumstances because they are supported, paid, and connected to the mission
- dealing with change and uncertainty because they are listened to and included in transparent decisions and processes
- sustaining long-term projects and community engagement because they can stay for the long haul
- diversifying the perspectives we hear, offer, and platform because their identities, lived experiences, and unique points are view are valued and safe to express
- bringing front-line expertise representing our communities’ priorities to all levels of the organization, because there are viable career paths into decision-making and management roles
- avoiding/lessening burnout because their contributions are seen and rewarded, and because they have the safety to speak out about unmanageable workloads and unsustainable conditions and know they will be heard
- contributing to sustainable and meaningful workplaces that keep these conditions monitored and addressed so we can keep showing up for our communities
Empathetic leadership is no longer a luxury or touchy-feely pipe dream for our field; I think it is the only way we survive the post-COVID and post-truth world ahead. Our communities need public history work, and neither we nor they can afford for us to fail.