Scenes
Our democracies, warns German psychiatrist, psychotherapist, and author Hans-Joachim Maaz, have become theatre performances of democratic ritual without the living spirit of democracy within. Parliamentary exchanges resemble carefully scripted plays, complete with gestures, lines, and acts. But behind the scenes, the essential disposition—the inner democracy—is absent.
Even in Germany? Yes—there as well.
And yet, there is cause for hope. I believe democracy can learn from the profound transformation leadership has undergone in recent decades—particularly under the influence of leadership thinkers such as my own teacher, Manfred Kets de Vries.
Leadership is not fixed. It is not a static attribute one “has” or “does not have.” It is a capability, a practice, that has evolved in parallel with social and organisational change. And the most important shift has been toward personal leadership—the capacity to lead oneself before leading others.
Our political systems require a similar revolution. If our outer democracy—the visible, institutional machinery—is to endure, it must rest on the foundation of inner democracy—a moral and psychological compass that anchors decision-making in integrity. Without it, the edifice is hollow.
Previously
In the stable, hierarchical institutions of the past—be they military regiments, factories, or government departments—leadership behaviour was straightforward. Success meant mastering the rules of a well-defined game.
Then the world changed. Processes accelerated, technology exploded, economies shifted from manufacturing to services. Organisations became fluid, adaptive, and highly networked. The carefully honed behaviours of the old order no longer worked.
Suddenly, leaders needed new competencies—anticipation, improvisation, inspiration. They could no longer rely on command-and-control expertise alone; they had to engage dynamically with complexity.
This shift was more than a skills update. It was a change in source. These new capabilities could not be learned from manuals or inherited from predecessors. They had to come from within.
Personal Leadership
Manuals could no longer supply the answers. The leader had to become the reference point.
- Who am I?
- What do I truly want?
- What are my strengths and limitations?
- Why am I here?
These questions form the crucible of self-awareness. And only a self-aware leader can continuously align their sense of integrity, meaning, and direction with the shifting, often contradictory demands of reality.
The result is not rigidity but resilience—like a reed that bends with the wind yet remains rooted.
This was the paradigm shift of modernity: leadership ceased to be solely about position and performance, and became inseparable from personal growth. For many leaders today, self-reflection is not optional—it is the foundation of effectiveness.
Outer Democracy
But this evolution has largely bypassed our democratic systems. Somewhere along the way, the link between inner and outer democracy was broken. The result is a democratic structure that appears intact yet feels increasingly fragile.
The forms remain—coalitions, oppositions, debates, motions, interpellations—but the meaning has thinned. The parliamentary stage is active; the auditorium is empty.
This disconnect breeds alienation. When failure is frequent, visible, and consequence-free, citizens lose not only trust but interest. Outrage turns to fatigue, and fatigue to apathy.
Why does today’s politics feel so devoid of an inner democratic compass?
Consider the conditioning:
- If you learn to make constant concessions, to speak in the vocabulary of the party rather than your own voice…
- If personality is seen as a liability…
- If media training teaches the art of eloquence without meaning…
- If untruths are tolerated as long as they are politically convenient…
- If political compromises matter more than policy outcomes…
- If holding power outweighs having vision…
- If your public image and the public’s perception have no overlap…
- If, when pressed, you blame the electorate for not understanding…
Under such conditions, the inner compass does not just weaken—it disappears. That is, assuming it existed when you were selected.
Inner Democracy
To cultivate an inner democratic attitude, one must first grasp a simple truth: political power is borrowed, never owned. It belongs not to the office-holder but to the people. And like a borrowed car, it should be treated with greater care than one’s own.
Principles such as proportionality and subsidiarity exist to remind us of this. Yet in an age of permanent crisis, such principles are often sacrificed—sometimes conveniently so.
The next step is recognising that there can be no sustainable outer democracy without a corresponding inner democratic orientation. Just as modern leadership evolved toward personal leadership, politics must embrace its own inner dimension. This will be an uncomfortable and disruptive process—perhaps more so in politics than in any other sphere.
True inner democracy also demands the courage to confront one’s own shadows: the guilt, the hypocrisies, the shame, the unresolved wounds. Leaders who have not faced these inner realities are prone to projection, moralising, and polarisation—transforming opponents into enemies and politics into perpetual conflict.
Finally, inner democracy calls for self-compassion. It means recognising your own unmet needs—moments when affection, appreciation, or affirmation were absent—and treating them with understanding rather than denial. This is not indulgence; it is preparation for genuine empathy towards others.
Conclusion
Will a renewed focus on inner democracy bring about a political paradise? Almost certainly not. But it is difficult to imagine sustainable governance in the West without it. The absence of an inner compass is visible everywhere—to anyone scrolling a newsfeed or reading a morning paper.
If leadership in organisations could evolve to embrace the inner life, so too can leadership in democracy. The theatre need not close; but it must rediscover its soul.