“What exactly is corruption?” was the leader’s uncomfortable question that began the meeting. Although it took a large pry bar to get the conversation moving at first, the presiding leader gently kept the input focused on “purely definition” at first. At the onset, the comments around the room included almost poetic things such as “violation of virtue,” “impairment of integrity,” “corrosion of character,” “perpetration of moral principle,” “ethical decay or decomposition,” “bribery – the tangible payoff for wrong,” and “departure from the good and the right.”

After the group warmed up to the coldness of the topic, they were encouraged to be more personal with the definition, as if it were going to be applied directly to the organization they led and to themselves, the leaders within the organization. The comments then included things such as “the decline of ethical strength,” “the slow spoiling of truth,” “the quiet departure from the originally pure,” “the slow creep away from the initially correct,” “secret festering scandals,” “extortion of blind obedience,” and “self-protective mismanagement.”

I was asked to observe the meeting and periodically offer observations, comments, and advice on the quality of their group processes and interactions. I do this often, and I was generally quite impressed with the honesty and trust I had observed so far, but I noted a large pause and significant discomfort in the room when someone who had been mostly quiet so far said, “corruption is the generally acceptable use of extortion-like power by the elite few seeking to profit at the expense of the unknowing whole.” Since the elite few were the ones in the room, the following stillness was memorably penetrating. After a long silence, and just as a few group members started to get up, I stated my first verbal observation: “I think we have found both the start of a meaningful conversation and the definition of corruption that is most piercingly relevant for this group.”

The group regained composure rather quickly and began a solemn and difficult discussion of the evil in which they had chosen to be entangled, the cancerous corruption both they and society had previously deemed acceptable. Unmasking corruption as an outsider or as a newly positioned leader is heroic and commonplace, although it is often the disguise for disingenuous self-aggrandizement and a host of hidden agendas. However, dealing with our own acceptable corruption is another matter entirely; facing our own evil without flinching is the hallmark of adept personal and organizational transformation.

Leaders can never be perfect regardless of our illogical wishes and expectations, but it is both possible and logical for leaders to know and deal with their dark side appropriately. It is right for leaders to name and heal their own evil; as the ancient proverb states, “Physician heal thyself.” For this self-attentiveness, Flawless leaders gain incremental respect, loyalty, and admiration from followers. Flawless leaders know that being appropriately authentic is the exposure of their own hypocrisy. Consider Hans Christian Anderson’s fairy tale of “The Emperor’s New Clothes,” where the Emperor walks around naked displaying his “new” clothes while everyone around him colludes in agreement with his self-deception. Everyone around the Emperor already knew of his hypocrisy, as it is with leaders. Flawless leaders discuss and deal with their own hypocrisy. Only then can we authentically and honorably deal with the evil in our own organizations.

I was partnering with Paul, a CEO of a large company that was going through significant change. Paul said he wanted help in getting every leader in the organization engaged in the change and becoming a valuable partner in creating the necessary details associated with imbedding this change deep within the massive global organization. We designed a series of work meetings over several years that were vital and dynamic interchanges centered on both a unifying and resonating purpose and on the full engagement of all leaders. The top six hundred leaders in the organization worked together across all hierarchical and organizational boundaries and truly created a rare competitive advantage with high leveragability within their industry. Paul impressed everyone at the series of meetings as an excellent speaker, a master facilitator, a trusted leader, a polished professional, a brilliant strategist, and a management guru. The organization was now positioned well to take advantage of several significant and profitable growth opportunities that no other company in their industry would be able to copy for at least a few years. It would have been wonderful if the story ended here.

Paul then started a new initiative to downsize the leadership staff in his organization and remove many of the “redundant” leaders that had, incidentally, toiled with him to create the advantages he now enjoyed. He did this to meet a special secret bonus incentive that he alone enjoyed as part of his compensation package. Paul was facing a scary fact he had avoided for a long time: he was not at all grounded in who he was. He was not a leader who lived out the values he preached during all those inspirational meetings he had hosted over the last several years. He was actually somewhat deceitful, self-serving, disloyal, and in his own words, corrupt. He immediately lost the trust and loyalty of the remaining leaders, and the best of them took offers from other companies shortly thereafter. Paul’s window to take advantage of his extraordinary positioning within his industry quickly closed around his wily methods and glossy techniques. Paul harmed his organization and those within it by hoarding power and valuing self-protection over principles and purpose.

Let’s face facts. We are all, at least a little, like Paul: deceitful, self-serving, and disloyal to varying degrees and depending on the situation. We are all human. As leaders, we don’t like to admit it or face it all that often, but we are human. Paul was so competent, so perfect, so god-like, that he didn’t face the fact that he was merely human, and that he had a dark side that needed to be navigated in order to lead effectively. Paul had been a “good-boy” for so long that he had over identified with that role, causing him to literally not know himself or even be aware of who he really was. He ignored his dark side; he refused to admit it was there. He was a ship captain who ignored the bad-weather reports and obliviously careened into the perfect storm. Knowing your dark side, facing it, becoming familiar with it, accepting it, and being vulnerable enough to discuss it appropriately takes its power away and enables you to navigate its unavoidable storms.