Are great leaders born, or are they made? In Leadership: In Turbulent Times, historian Doris Kearns Goodwin contends that it’s the latter: Great leaders often grow from personal challenges that shape how they lead later on. Specifically, Goodwin describes the personal crises of four U.S. presidents—Abraham Lincoln, Theodore Roosevelt, Franklin Delano Roosevelt (FDR), and Lyndon B. Johnson—and how these experiences affected their leadership through four different national crises: the Civil War, the coal strike of 1902, the Great Depression, and the civil rights movement.
(Shortform note: To avoid any confusion that stems from the fact that fifth cousins Theodore Roosevelt and Franklin Delano Roosevelt have the same last name, we’ll refer to Theodore Roosevelt as “Roosevelt” and Franklin Delano Roosevelt as “FDR” throughout this guide.)
In this guide, we’ll discuss each president in turn: What personal challenge did he face, what did he learn from it—and how did this lesson affect the handling of his national crisis? Along the way, we’ll provide more historical context about each president’s achievement and how the presidents’ reactions to both their personal and national crises reflect the advice of modern leadership experts.
Abraham Lincoln, who was president from 1861 to 1865, inherited a nation in crisis, writes Goodwin. By his inauguration, seven Southern states had seceded from the Union, and his own party was divided: Should they try to keep the slave states in the Union, or had the time for compromise ended?
(Shortform note: Goodwin doesn’t outright state why Southern states seceded after Lincoln’s election, a point of contention in Lincoln’s time and one that remains controversial today. A 2011 survey by the Pew Research Center found that 38% of Americans believe that states mainly seceded because they wanted to continue practicing slavery, while 48% believe that they did so over states’ rights.)
Although Lincoln wanted to ensure the Union’s survival, he ultimately chose not to compromise, asserts Goodwin. His decision to free the slaves by issuing the Emancipation Proclamation marked a turning point in the Civil War—one that definitively transformed the North’s war effort into one predicated on the abolition of slavery.
(Shortform note: Modern historians aren’t the only ones who view the Emancipation Proclamation as a shift in the goal of the Civil War from keeping the Union together to abolishing slavery: Foreign governments in Lincoln’s time thought so, too. Historians note that prior to the Emancipation Proclamation, some European countries considered supporting the Confederacy. Afterwards, they refused because they didn’t want to support slavery.)
But how did he come to this decision? Goodwin suggests that it was only possible due to Lincoln’s intellectual rigor and his ability to persuade others—both of which he learned during his personal crisis.
Goodwin explains that Lincoln’s personal crisis stemmed from several political setbacks in his early career that prevented him from fulfilling campaign promises he’d made to his constituents. Lincoln saw these failures as a breach of integrity—a trait Lincoln prized highly—and thus a stain on his character. As such, these failures affected Lincoln deeply. At one point, he became so depressed that he was bedridden.
Did Lincoln Lose Integrity?
As Goodwin notes, Lincoln’s failures affected him deeply because he valued integrity highly—so much so that integrity was central to his identity. Lincoln was even known to his friends and colleagues as “Honest Abe,” a nickname he earned when he was a young shopkeeper chasing customers out of the store to ensure they got exact change.
However, his sense of failure may have been unfounded. According to the definition of acting with integrity set forth by self-esteem expert Nathaniel Branden in The Six Pillars of Self-Esteem, Lincoln’s political failures didn’t constitute a breach of integrity. Branden argues that you can only act without integrity—in other words, contrary to your values—in situations you can control. Lincoln’s inability to fulfill his campaign promises doesn’t fit this definition because it stemmed from factors he couldn’t totally control—like the fact that people didn’t vote for his ideas.
However, Goodwin argues, these failures were a blessing in disguise: They led Lincoln to reassess his political career and realize that, despite his desire to become president, he didn’t yet possess the necessary leadership qualities to excel at the job. In response, Lincoln embarked on a journey of self-improvement in two main ways.
First, Lincoln chose to study every important topic he could get books on, such as history and philosophy, in an effort to grow intellectually and morally. In this way, he refined his intellectual skills by learning classical logic and philosophical thinking—and he applied these new skills to the prevailing issue of the day: the expansion of slavery.
Second, Lincoln focused on doing his best at the job he did have—his career as a lawyer. In doing so, he learned to simplify complex topics and get his audience (in this case, jurors) on his side. These persuasive skills were on full display in an 1854 speech, which his contemporaries lauded as one of the best arguments against the expansion of slavery they’d ever heard.
How Lincoln’s Journey Reflects the Ultralearning Model
The self-improvement journey Lincoln embarked upon after realizing that he didn’t have the skills necessary to excel at being president reflects several of the principles necessary for strategic, self-directed learning that Scott Young espouses in Ultralearning.
First, Young argues that to learn a subject or skill, you must first learn how to learn it—which you do partly by determining what you need to learn, then examining how others have learned that subject, so you can emulate their strategies. As Young recommends, Lincoln determined that to refine his intellectual skills, he needed to learn subjects like history and philosophy—and that to learn these subjects, he needed to read books, just as others had.
Second, Young argues that to master a subject, you must practically apply any theoretical skills you’ve learned. Not only did Lincoln apply his newfound intellectual skills by analyzing the expansion of slavery, but he also regularly practiced rhetoric during his career as a lawyer. The fact that his contemporaries lauded his 1854 speech against the expansion of slavery suggests that Lincoln fully mastered both these analytical and rhetorical skills.
Goodwin contends that Lincoln’s intellectual skills and his ability to persuade others affected his decision to release the Emancipation Proclamation in two main ways.
First, Goodwin argues that the intellectual skills Lincoln developed during his personal crisis were critical to his decision to release the Emancipation Proclamation. Although he viewed slavery as a moral abomination, Lincoln didn’t initially set out to free the slaves; he didn’t initially think that presidents had that legal power. So what led him to change his mind?
Goodwin argues that Lincoln changed his mind because he applied the critical thinking skills he’d developed during his personal crisis. Lincoln spent a lot of time thinking about how he could end the war quickly and reunite the states. Thanks to this process, Lincoln realized that abolishing slavery wasn’t just a moral choice—it was also a strategic move that would cripple the Confederate war effort and thus fell within the wartime powers legally granted to the president. In this way, the intellectual skills Lincoln refined during his crisis allowed him to see the loophole that let him release the Emancipation Proclamation.
How Solitude Helped Lincoln Release the Emancipation Proclamation
In Digital Minimalism, productivity expert Cal Newport adds that solitude was essential to Lincoln’s ability to apply his intellectual skills to the challenges he faced during the Civil War—like his ultimate decision to release the Emancipation Proclamation.
Newport argues that during his presidency, Lincoln needed space to think without constant demands on his attention. Lincoln got this space by regularly retreating to a countryside cottage, where he thought deeply about whether he could legally release the Emancipation Proclamation. Although we don’t know exactly where Lincoln discovered the loophole that allowed him to reconcile his moral stance against slavery with his desire to act within the accepted scope of presidential power, we do know that Lincoln wrote the first drafts of the Emancipation Proclamation at this cottage—supporting Newport’s contention that solitude played a major role in Lincoln’s ability to discover it.
Second, Goodwin argues that Lincoln was only able to convince his cabinet of the need to release the Emancipation Proclamation due to his skill of persuasion. Since Lincoln wanted to save the Union, he selected the most capable men in the country to be in his cabinet—despite the fact that many were rivals of his with drastically different views on slavery. But thanks to Lincoln’s understanding of the issue and his ability to address all their concerns, he could persuade each of them to support his signing of the Emancipation Proclamation on January 1, 1863.
(Shortform note: In her 2005 book Team of Rivals, Goodwin goes into greater detail on each member of Lincoln’s cabinet, explaining why they disliked not just him, but each other—and why many of them eventually grew into ardent admirers of Lincoln. However, despite Lincoln’s successes, his team of rivals didn’t survive his entire presidency: Notably, Salmon P. Chase, the Secretary of the Treasury, never fully supported Lincoln and ultimately resigned in 1864.)
Goodwin argues that like Lincoln, Theodore Roosevelt, who led the country from 1901 to 1909, struggled with the limits of presidential power and ultimately expanded it in a major way: He was the first president to ever settle a labor dispute. He was instrumental during the coal strike of 1902, when coal miners and mine owners faced off in a months-long strike that threatened to plunge the nation into crisis.
(Shortform note: Following the precedent Roosevelt set, several later American presidents also got involved in labor disputes. However, these interventions weren’t always as well-received as Roosevelt’s. Notably, during the Korean War, President Harry S. Truman determined that striking steelworkers were damaging the war effort and seized steel mills—a move the Supreme Court later declared unconstitutional.)
Goodwin contends that Roosevelt’s decision to intervene during this strike is evidence of courage and a bias towards action—both of which he developed after experiencing his own personal crisis. In this section, we’ll examine how he developed these qualities and why they were essential to how he handled the coal strike.
Goodwin explains that Roosevelt’s crisis began in February 1884, when both his wife and mother died on the same day. This personal crisis quickly expanded into a professional one: Roosevelt tried to deal with his tragedy by diving into his work as a New York state assemblyman, but his bullish methods of pushing laws quickly alienated his colleagues, leading Roosevelt to leave the legislature.
(Shortform note: Roosevelt chose to deal with his grief by returning to work, but many modern Americans are forced to return to work while in the throes of grief because they have only a few days of bereavement leave. If you’re facing this situation, you can ensure that, unlike Roosevelt, you remain productive and can relate positively to your colleagues by following experts’ tips for returning to work while grieving, like taking regular breaks and setting boundaries regarding what you’ll discuss with colleagues.)
In response, Goodwin argues, Roosevelt made two moves—the first of which led him to develop the courage he’d demonstrate during the later coal strike of 1902. Goodwin explains that Roosevelt embarked on a journey of healing by spending two years at a North Dakota ranch. This was both a physical and spiritual journey. Roosevelt was never a physically gifted man, but he regularly exposed himself to physical challenges at the ranch. He was often afraid of these physical challenges—but by repeatedly facing them anyway, he learned to be brave and not let fear stop him.
(Shortform note: According to High Performance Habits author Brendon Burchard, there are four types of courage. By exposing himself to physical challenges, Roosevelt developed psychological courage, which is when you overcome a personal fear or anxiety and grow. The other three types of courage are physical courage (when you put yourself in physical danger for a worthy cause), moral courage (when you stand up for your beliefs in the face of adversity), and everyday courage (when you maintain positivity in the face of uncertainty).)
Goodwin contends that Roosevelt’s second move—or rather, moves—demonstrates Roosevelt’s newfound willingness to act when you can because you may never get another chance. Goodwin argues that, prior to his personal crisis, Roosevelt had a plan: He wanted to become president, and he was willing to bide his time and wait for the next move that would get him there. But the loss of his wife and mother made Roosevelt aware that time was never guaranteed. As a result, he developed an attitude that boiled down to: “Do things now.” He took any job he was offered and did his best to solve the issues it presented as quickly as possible—prioritizing efficiency and ignoring the traditional, slow-moving channels, much to the chagrin of the bureaucrats who championed them.
Roosevelt’s Mindset Shift: From Ladder to Jungle Gym
Roosevelt’s shift in how he approached his career reflects what Lean In author Sheryl Sandberg describes as a metaphorical shift from ladder to jungle gym. Sandberg explains that while you used to be able to describe career success as climbing a ladder from lower to higher positions, a more apt metaphor for career success today is a jungle gym: You switch jobs, make lateral moves, and take more risks—and you can still succeed. Similarly, Roosevelt went from slowly climbing the ladder to the presidency to climbing a jungle gym. He did this by taking every position he was offered because he wasn’t sure if he would ever achieve his ultimate goal—and he achieved his dream anyway.
How can you, like Roosevelt, achieve your ultimate goal while still approaching your career like a jungle gym? Sandberg recommends that you set two plans. First, set a long-term dream. This doesn’t have to be realistic or specific, but even a vague goal will provide direction. Second, set 18-month goals on two fronts: targets for what your team can accomplish professionally, and targets for learning new personal skills that relate to your career—like how Roosevelt learned to solve issues quickly and efficiently without getting bogged down by bureaucracy.
As evidence of Roosevelt’s new attitude, Goodwin points to the fact that he took several jobs after returning from North Dakota and how he handled said jobs. For example, as New York City police commissioner, Roosevelt’s main task was to fight the rampant corruption in the police department. Roosevelt used several creative tactics to try to transform the department’s culture into one that valued integrity. Most famously, he donned various disguises and traversed the city at night to find and discipline patrolmen who were slacking off.
Can Leaders Change Institutional Cultures?
As Goodwin notes, Roosevelt ultimately failed to create lasting changes in the New York Police Department because he tried to enforce an unpopular law that alienated voters and led them to re-elect corrupt politicians who recorrupted the NYPD. But if he hadn’t tried to enforce this law, could he have transformed the NYPD’s culture?
Experts are divided on this: Some, like Leading Change author John P. Kotter, argue that it’s impossible to change a culture top-down; rather, it must develop organically over time. Other experts argue that leaders do play a significant role in reshaping the values, practices, and assumptions that constitute an organization's culture—although they recommend creating a vision, implementing it, and then disciplining those who don’t meet it (like by punishing patrolmen who are slacking off) rather than starting by disciplining people who don’t meet the new vision.
Goodwin contends that both Roosevelt’s courage and willingness to act were essential to his decision to intervene in the coal strike of 1902. As Goodwin notes, Roosevelt faced a major dilemma during the coal mine workers’ six-month strike to protest dismal labor conditions. Roosevelt needed the mine workers and owners to reach a resolution: At the time, the Northeast relied on coal for fuel during the winter, and without it, the region would plunge into crisis. However, as president, Roosevelt technically didn’t have the legal standing to intervene in the situation.
Despite this reality, Roosevelt chose to intervene anyway—ultimately ending the strike and setting the precedent that presidents could help solve labor disputes. These decisions were only possible, Goodwin argues, due to the courage and bias towards action that Roosevelt learned after his crisis. Roosevelt was brave enough to step outside of the traditionally accepted presidential role, and he chose to protect the American public as he saw fit, despite the lack of precedent—and in doing so, redefined the previously private issue of labor disputes as a public interest issue in which the president could get involved if necessary.
How the Coal Strike of 1900 Affected Roosevelt’s Actions
It’s possible that it wasn’t Roosevelt’s decision to intervene during the coal strike of 1902 that reflected his courage and bias towards action, but rather his decision to intervene openly. Although presidents hadn’t intervened in labor disputes publicly and officially prior to Roosevelt, presidents had previously intervened in labor disputes in less public ways.
For example, in September 1900, coal miners went on strike right before the re-election campaign of Roosevelt’s predecessor, William McKinley. Worried about the potential impact of this strike on the election, McKinley privately convinced the coal mine operators, who supported him, that his re-election would be in jeopardy unless they ended the strike quickly. As such, these operators agreed to award some benefits to the miners in order to shut down the strike. In this way, McKinley also stepped outside the presidential role and acted. But unlike Roosevelt, he did so secretly and appeared to have been motivated primarily by his desire to win the election—not his desire to protect the Northeast’s fuel.
Moreover, it’s possible that the strike of 1900 ensured that Roosevelt’s intervention in the strike of 1902 required even more courage than it would have had the former strike never happened. Historians argue that the coal mine operators were particularly resistant to Roosevelt’s interference in 1902 because they’d been forced by McKinley to cave to the miners in 1900—which made Roosevelt’s decision to interfere anyway that much more remarkable.
Like his fifth cousin, Theodore Roosevelt, Franklin Delano Roosevelt (FDR), who was president from 1933 to 1945, was instrumental to American workers’ well-being: He was tasked with getting the nation through the Great Depression. Despite this major challenge, FDR successfully turned the nation’s economy around—which Goodwin attributes partly to his ability to empathize with others.
(Shortform note: FDR’s immense popularity suggests that Americans agreed with Goodwin that FDR successfully revitalized the nation’s economy. FDR easily won a second term, capturing the electoral votes of every state but Maine and Vermont. His popularity continued: FDR ultimately won four elections and is the reason why American presidents are only allowed to serve two terms today.)
In this section, we’ll discuss the crisis that taught FDR the power of empathy. Then, we’ll see how this skill helped him lead the nation through an economic catastrophe.
Goodwin explains that FDR’s crisis was his contraction of polio in 1921. Prior to his illness, FDR was physically active and regularly put his body under relative strain. But polio forced a dramatic physical transformation for FDR: He became paralyzed from the waist down and would experience chronic pain throughout his life.
(Shortform note: Some researchers suggest that FDR didn’t contract polio but rather Guillain-Barré syndrome, an autoimmune disease. While both diseases result in muscle weakness and paralysis, polio usually affects children—not adults, which FDR was when he became ill—and doesn’t usually result in chronic pain of the type FDR experienced.)
However, Goodwin argues that contracting polio ultimately improved FDR’s ability to empathize—a quality that didn’t come naturally to the president. Goodwin attributes this lack of empathy to his upbringing: FDR was an only child and was homeschooled until he was 14 years old. As a result, it wasn’t until later in life that he started learning social skills.
(Shortform note: Modern homeschooling experts suggest that homeschooling may harm your children’s ability to socialize if they don’t interact regularly with other children—as was the case with FDR. They emphasize that parents should ensure that homeschooled children connect with people who are different from them—like kids who aren’t homeschooled—so they learn the social norms essential to functioning in society.)
How did contracting polio teach FDR to empathize? Goodwin proposes two ways. First, FDR’s illness enhanced his connections to his peers. Prior to his illness, FDR had a team committed to helping him become president—including his wife, Eleanor Roosevelt. But after he became paralyzed, his ability to empathize improved because he became even more reliant on his team. It was through them that he gathered information and learned about the world, as they could go where he could not.
How to Improve Empathy and Trust at Work
Goodwin implies that FDR’s ability to empathize increased because he trusted his team, which was presumably relatively easy to do since it included family members like his wife. But how can you improve trust and empathy at work? Some experts argue that trust and empathy are interrelated: When you trust someone, you believe that they are authentic, logical, and empathetic (that they care about you). In other words, if you stop believing they’re empathetic, you’ll trust them less. Therefore, if you improve how empathetic people perceive you to be at work—such as by putting your phone away and becoming more engaged in the conversation—you’ll improve how trustworthy people think you are.
Second, Goodwin argues that FDR’s illness improved his ability to empathize with people less fortunate than he. After contracting polio, FDR found a thermal pool in Georgia that eased the pain in his legs—which he eventually bought and transformed into Warm Springs, a rehabilitation center for polio patients and their families. For four years, FDR spent most of his time at Warm Springs, surrounded by polio patients of all stripes. It was this experience, Goodwin argues, that taught FDR how to relate to anybody—a quality he would need as president during the Great Depression.
(Shortform note: At Warm Springs, FDR talked extensively with people from different backgrounds and learned to live in a different world (one in which he had polio)—both of which are proven ways to increase your empathy. You can apply similar techniques in your own life: To talk to new people in a way that improves your empathy, experts recommend asking acquaintances to lunch and learning what their lives are like. To see what it’s like to live in a different world, they recommend spending more time in a different area of your city or attending a different house of worship for a few weeks.)
Goodwin contends that FDR’s ability to empathize with others helped him lead during the Great Depression in two main ways.
First, Goodwin argues, this ability allowed FDR to connect with the American people, which led them to trust him and do what he asked. To demonstrate how critical this was to the nation’s economic recovery, Goodwin points to the impact of the president’s first nationwide radio address. In the early days of his administration, FDR passed emergency banking legislation that was a first step in pulling the nation out of the Great Depression. But for it to work, FDR had to persuade Americans to deposit their money in banks—a difficult task, since most Americans had initially pulled their savings out because they’d lost faith in the banks. But the day after FDR’s first nationwide address, the public returned their money to the banks—because FDR made them believe that they could.
How FDR’s Radio Addresses Helped Him Connect With Americans
Other historians agree that FDR’s nationwide radio addresses were essential to his ability to connect with the public. In fact, they argue that the nearly 30 addresses he gave throughout his presidency were a major factor in his historic number of election wins, pinpointing specific aspects of the addresses that helped FDR win the citizenry’s hearts.
For example, FDR usually referred to his audience as “you,” which likely helped each listener feel like the president was empathizing with and talking to them personally. He also successfully helped Americans understand complex topics—like America’s military progress during World War II—using the same simple language that helped Americans understand what had happened to the banks when they listened to his first address.
Second, Goodwin argues, this ability to empathize allowed FDR to manage the team that would be essential to revitalizing the nation’s economy. Under FDR’s leadership, the government created several different kinds of projects to help restore the economy—but with so many different agencies and people involved, all with different ideas on which would work best, the discussions on which to pursue often became contentious.
FDR masterfully navigated these situations due to his empathy, Goodwin contends: He listened to disparate opinions, skillfully placated the people whose ideas he did not choose, and fostered reconciliation between those who disagreed. Thanks in large part to the work of FDR and this team, the nation successfully pulled through the Great Depression.
(Shortform note: FDR’s empathy didn’t just help him navigate contentious situations among the people creating different projects to restore the American economy; it may also have helped him choose which projects would revitalize the economy the most. In Tools of Titans, author Tim Ferriss interviews tech investor Chris Sacca, who argues that empathy helps you develop better solutions for people because you can see the world through their eyes.)
Like FDR, Lyndon B. Johnson, who was president from 1963 to 1969, entered office in a time of crisis. Not only was the nation already struggling to pass civil rights legislation, but then-Vice President Johnson also entered the White House due to a tragedy: the assassination of President John F. Kennedy on November 22, 1963. Despite the struggles the nation faced, Johnson successfully united the country in its time of grief and passed landmark civil rights legislation—which Goodwin attributes to his clarity of purpose.
In this section, we’ll first discuss the crises that taught Johnson why a clear purpose matters. Then, we’ll see how having one helped him deal with a nation in grief.
According to Goodwin, Johnson had two personal crises that taught him the importance of purpose. Johnson’s first crisis happened when he lost an election to the US Senate in 1941—which, Goodwin argues, was as traumatic to Johnson as the crises faced by the other presidents she discusses. Johnson didn’t separate his private and public life: Since his father had been a Texas state representative, Johnson had known from his early childhood that he wanted to be a politician. As a result, Goodwin argues, he’d designed his entire life around his political career. So when he faced political loss, he had no way to retreat from his political life and reconsider his options, as the other presidents discussed in this guide did.
As such, Goodwin argues, Johnson continued to work in the public eye. However, his loss in the election also led him to lose the sense of purpose that drove his best leadership: his desire to help people. So, although Johnson continued to be politically successful, eventually winning a Senate seat eight years later, he did not lead as well as he could have: Notably, he treated his staff so poorly that many of them resigned.
In this way, when Johnson faced his first crisis, he lost his sense of purpose—and this led to his second crisis: his 1955 heart attack. Goodwin explains that this heart attack threatened to end Johnson’s political career: Doctors forbade him from returning to work, and the media suggested that Johnson was not healthy enough to continue his trajectory toward the presidency. As a result, Johnson became depressed.
(Shortform note: Many former presidents hid their health problems from the world in order to avoid any suggestion that they were not healthy enough to become president. Notably, John F. Kennedy hid that he had Addison’s disease, a long-term endocrine disorder.)
However, Goodwin argues that Johnson’s heart attack was a blessing in disguise because it reminded him of his purpose. The heart attack made Johnson aware of his own mortality and, during the vacation from politics it forced, allowed Johnson to reflect on the legacy he wanted to leave behind. In doing so, Johnson remembered that he’d originally pursued a governmental career because he wanted to help the less fortunate, and he made this the mission of the next stages of his political career. It was when he regained this sense of purpose, Goodwin argues, that he changed from being just a man in power to being a true leader—someone with a vision and a path to reach that vision.
How Grief Damages Your Sense of Purpose—and How to Regain It
Johnson’s lack of purpose after the 1941 election indicates that he may have been grieving. As experts note, any loss can trigger grief, which is especially pronounced if that loss damages your identity. This loss of identity can also trigger a loss of purpose: When you don’t know who you are, you don’t know what you’re supposed to do.
Johnson’s election loss may have been particularly traumatic because it likely damaged his identity in two main ways. He lost his relational identity—his identity as someone who helps people, like his father did. This loss is evident in his inability to successfully lead his staff. Additionally, the election loss may have damaged how Johnson viewed the world: Experts contend that events that make you question your fundamental beliefs often trigger a loss of identity. It’s possible that Johnson’s inability to separate his political and personal lives even in the face of political loss may have caused him to initially question the wisdom of keeping them so intertwined, even as he continued on to political success.
Moreover, medical problems like the ones Johnson experienced are common among the bereaved: Research indicates that if you’re grieving a recent loss, you’re more likely to have a heart attack. Given that Johnson’s heart attack occurred 14 years after his election loss, it’s unlikely to have been triggered by his grief, but it still could have been affected by it: Researchers have found that the bereaved are more likely to die of any medical issue—including cardiovascular disease—even 10 years after their loss.
So how should you deal with your grief to regain your purpose and potentially protect yourself from future medical issues? To regain your sense of identity—and with it, your sense of purpose—experts recommend reflecting on your identity and how it might have been changed by grief, just as Johnson did during his forced vacation from politics. Having a sense of purpose may also protect your health. Experts argue that grief triggers medical issues by altering your brain so that you’re constantly stressed. Research suggests that having a sense of purpose helps you deal with stress and also reduces your risk for both mental and physical health issues, like cardiovascular disease and depression.
Moreover, leadership experts Nick Craig and Scott Snook agree with Goodwin that finding your purpose is especially important if you want to lead, arguing that defining your purpose and committing to it is the most important task for any leader. To do so, they first recommend reviewing the greatest challenges of your life and examining what unites them—that unifying element will help you discover your purpose. Johnson rediscovered his purpose (to help people) alone, but Craig and Snook recommend doing this process with people who know you well. Once you’ve found it, Craig and Snook suggest figuring out which five-year goals will help you live your purpose—and then developing short-term goals that will help you achieve these long-term goals.
Goodwin contends that Johnson’s actions during the first months of his presidency demonstrate how having a clear purpose is essential to leading in times of crisis.
In the wake of Kennedy’s assassination, Johnson had a clear purpose: Help the country grieve, and give it a path forward. Since these goals were so clear, Johnson was easily able to find a way to fulfill both of them: by passing Kennedy’s civil rights bill. This both honored the late president’s memory and held the promise of a new America in which everybody had equal rights: The bill was designed to desegregate public spaces and enforce the integration of schools, writes Goodwin.
How Kennedy Felt About Civil Rights Legislation
Johnson’s successful attempt to frame Kennedy’s civil rights bill as a way to honor his legacy and to provide Americans with a path forward after his assassination is particularly remarkable given that, according to historians, Kennedy was relatively ambivalent about the bill. Kennedy supported civil rights but prioritized introducing other types of legislation, and he only introduced the civil rights bill after the issue started to dominate public conversation and he felt he had no other choice. Ultimately, Kennedy announced the bill on June 11, 1963, just hours after a standoff at the University of Alabama. The state’s governor tried to block two Black students from enrolling at the University of Alabama despite a federal court order allowing them to do so—and Kennedy was forced to send in the Alabama National Guard.
As a result, Goodwin contends, Johnson’s new purpose became passing the civil rights act—and he only succeeded because his clarity of purpose allowed him to make the compromises necessary to achieve what he really wanted. Goodwin explains that Johnson was initially unwilling to amend the bill in any way. However, when he learned that his opponents wouldn’t vote for the bill until at least some of their changes were included, he yielded and allowed them to change the bill: He chose to prioritize passing the bill at all over passing it in its original state. Thanks to Johnson’s willingness to compromise, the bill gained bipartisan support—and ultimately became the Civil Rights Act of 1964.
How Compromising Ultimately Made the Civil Rights Act Stronger
When you’re clear on your purpose, you have an end goal in mind, so you’re willing to compromise on minor details as long as you can reach that goal. Sometimes this willingness to compromise doesn’t just help you reach your goal; it results in an even better outcome than you initially expected. This was the case with Johnson: His willingness to amend Kennedy’s civil rights bill didn’t just help get it passed, it also resulted in even stronger civil rights legislation than Kennedy’s original draft. In fact, Senator Hubert Humphrey, who negotiated several of the amendments the opposition party wanted, told Johnson, “We haven’t weakened this bill one damn bit; in fact in some places we’ve improved it.”
Historians attribute much of this to the work of minority leader Senator Everett Dirksen, who Johnson correctly identified and courted as the person who could get him the votes he needed to pass this bill. Goodwin doesn’t cast Dirksen in the most flattering light, but other historians note that he had a long history of sponsoring civil rights legislation. Dirksen proposed nearly 70 amendments to the bill, which made the bill stronger by a) clarifying its language and b) including several minor compromises that appeased legislators on the fence and helped them vote for it.
Every president we’ve discussed in this guide went through some failure or tragedy—but responded in a way that ultimately improved his leadership. Answer the following questions to discover how you can respond to your own setbacks in ways that improve your life.
Describe a recent setback you experienced (for example, losing your job).
Now, note what scares you most about this setback—in other words, what is your worst-case scenario? (For example, if you were recently fired, you might be worried that you’ll never find a job again.)
Write down three actions you could take to avoid this worst-case scenario. (For example, to avoid never having a job again, you might learn a new skill in your field.)
Pick one of the actions you listed above, and write down one step you’ll take today to implement that action. (For example, if you want to learn a particular skill, you might look for free online courses that teach that skill.)