The Quiet Presence, A Leadership That Does Not Shut but Enables.
In a world that often celebrates polished answers and powerful titles, what happens when someone gently reminds us that real leadership is not about having all the answers—but about being emotionally present, open, and honest?
Recently, I sat with Kevin Harper, someone who holds a formal leadership title but resists being defined by it. Our kōrero was rich and spacious. Kevin doesn't speak like someone who seeks to be centre stage. Instead, he speaks like someone who wants to hold the stage open for others. And in that, I think, lies his most powerful act of leadership.
Kevin doesn’t like the word “CEO.” In fact, he finds it uncomfortable. People often approach him because of his title, but he believes that others on his team often know more about specific issues than he does. He wishes we could move beyond the constraints of labels and instead notice what people bring—their skills, strengths, and stories.
This, to me, is the beginning of authentic leadership: not leading from a place of status, but from a place of service. Not needing to be seen as the expert, but making room for others to grow into theirs.
Kevin is clear that power isn’t something to be held tightly. Instead, he sees leadership as the art of sharing power—of recognising when to speak, and when to step back so others can rise. But that balance isn’t easy. There’s a constant pull between organisational responsibility and relational trust, between keeping the lights on and creating space for community voices to be heard.
Still, he believes the true work lies in the tension—not in resolving it quickly, but in learning to hold it with integrity. That means asking hard questions, being open to discomfort, and staying emotionally available even when we don’t have solutions.
Too often, we celebrate titles, outcomes, and public speeches. But Kevin reminds us of what we don’t see: the hours of writing, the nights without sleep, the quiet moments of doubt. He invites us to honour the journey—not just the arrival.
Leadership, he says, is a continuum. There is no final destination—only moments of courage, clarity, and choice along the way. And that is what makes it authentic: not perfection, but presence. Not control, but congruence.
One of the most resonant parts of our conversation was Kevin’s deep respect for the lived experience community. He spoke of how people with lived experience bring not just knowledge, but emotional availability. This, he says, is the quiet strength you can feel when you walk into a room full of those who have journeyed through darkness and still choose to show up.
These individuals often carry an unspoken wisdom—the ability to listen without needing to fix, to care without needing to control. It’s a kind of leadership that doesn’t shout, but still deeply transforms. In Kevin’s words, it’s the willingness to sit with someone who’s struggling and say, “I’m here.”
One of Kevin’s most powerful reflections was this: caring is not about solving someone’s problem. It’s about showing up with genuine presence and asking, “What do you need right now, and how can I support you?” Sometimes, people don’t want time off—they want to be in the room, connected, doing something meaningful. Emotional presence, not policy, is what builds trust.
Kevin reminded me that what changes people isn’t always the medication, or the programme, or the plan. It’s the moment someone believed in them. Saw them. Listened. That’s where hope begins—not as a lofty concept, but as a relational act.
We are often told that leadership looks like confidence, control, and charisma. But what if real leadership looks like courage to be seen? What if it’s the quiet act of listening, of stepping back so someone else can step forward? What if it’s about walking alongside others, not ahead of them?
Kevin doesn’t call himself a guru. He probably wouldn’t even call himself a leader in the traditional sense. But his way of being—grounded, gentle, and generous—is precisely the kind of leadership our world needs more of.
