The most tragic part of this story is the ending. Some servant leaders, wounded by betrayal and slander, quietly withdraw. They walk away—not in anger, but in sorrow, not in vengeance, but in silence. They leave with dignity, carrying their pain alone, choosing exile over further humiliation.
Leadership frequently leads people to see it as a path of recognition, authority, and influence. Yet, in its truest form, leadership is rarely about privilege. Instead, it is about sacrifice, service, and the willingness to place the needs of others above oneself. The philosophy of servant leadership, articulated by Robert Greenleaf (1977), emphasizes this ethos of service: leaders are first and foremost servants, motivated not by power but by the desire to nurture and empower others.
The metaphor of sacrifice is deeply relevant within universities, where academics often give everything—their time, energy, personal lives, and even health—to pursue teaching, mentoring, research, and service. However, paradoxically, such sacrifices are not always honored. In fact, there are painful realities where individuals who have dedicated their careers to the growth of their institutions are forgotten, slandered, or even betrayed once they no longer hold positions of formal authority. This message reflects on this paradox through the lens of servant leadership.
Servant leadership rejects the traditional model of leadership as dominance and control. Instead, it rests on humility, empathy, and service to others. A servant leader measures success not by personal advancement or recognition, but by the growth, success, and well-being of those they serve.
In the university context, servant leaders tirelessly support students, mentor junior colleagues, and uphold academic values. They are often the ones who arrive first, leave last, and sacrifice their own comfort so that others may succeed. For them, leadership’s true “sweetness” lies in seeing others thrive. Yet, this sweetness does not come without its cost. The leaders themselves must carry the unseen burdens: fatigue, personal sacrifice, and the emotional toll of constant service.
Despite the nobility of servant leadership, one of its most significant challenges is the paradox of recognition. Like many institutions, universities often equate leadership with formal positions—titles, offices, or administrative authority. In such contexts, the servant leader’s value is frequently tied not to their service but to the status they hold.
When that status disappears—when the leader no longer holds a formal role—people quickly forget the sacrifices made in the past. Sometimes, the individuals who benefited from the leader’s mentorship or protection may become sources of slander or betrayal. This reveals a painful truth: institutions often fail to honor selflessness. Instead, they frequently reward visibility, hierarchy, and political maneuvering.
For the servant leader, this can be devastating. Having given everything, they may find themselves abandoned, misrepresented, or sidelined. Yet this does not negate the value of their leadership. On the contrary, it highlights the profound moral courage required to serve without expectation of reward.
Servant leadership is not merely a leadership style but an ethical stance. It requires leaders to align with compassion, integrity, and stewardship, even when such actions are not recognized or rewarded. In this sense, servant leadership is profoundly countercultural in environments prioritizing competition, prestige, or power.
The betrayal of servant leaders no longer in positions of authority exposes an institutional weakness: a failure to value character and contribution beyond formal structures. Yet, from an ethical perspective, the worth of servant leadership lies not in institutional recognition. Still, in the intangible impact it creates— the university’s culture, and the inspiration that carries forward in unseen ways.
The metaphor “the sweetness belongs to others, while we endured the suffering” aptly captures the servant leader’s reality. In universities, the sweetness takes the form of graduates who succeed in their careers, colleagues who develop confidence, and research communities that advance knowledge. These are the fruits of the servant leader’s labor.
The suffering remains invisible mainly: late nights writing grant applications or the personal cost of setting aside family or health for institutional duties. The servant leader’s sacrifices are not wasted even when slander or betrayal occurs. The sweetness continues to ripple outward, embodied in the lives and achievements of those they served.
One of the most profound lessons of servant leadership teaches that true leadership does not depend on titles or offices. Formal roles may grant visibility and influence, but character and actions define servant leadership, not position. People may remove a title, but they cannot strip away a person’s service, integrity, or legacy.
Thus, the servant leader’s influence persists even when slandered or betrayed. Students carry forward the lessons they learned, colleagues remember the mentoring they received, and institutions—whether they acknowledge it or not—are shaped by the leader’s contributions. This resilience makes servant leadership humbling and powerful: its legacy survives beyond recognition.
It is important, however, to recognize the personal cost of servant leadership. A leader who gives endlessly without replenishment risks burnout, bitterness, or despair—particularly when met with betrayal. For servant leadership to remain sustainable, it must balance self-sacrifice with self-care and rely on institutional cultures that value integrity over politics.
As centers of learning and knowledge, universities have a moral responsibility to cultivate cultures that respect and honor servant leaders. Without this, the cycle of slander and betrayal risks discouraging future leaders from adopting servant leadership values, leaving institutions dominated by power-seeking rather than service-driven leadership. The paradox of servant leadership in academia is that those who give the most are sometimes the least recognized, and those who sacrifice everything may face betrayal once they no longer hold formal authority. Yet this paradox does not diminish the value of servant leadership. Instead, it reveals its ethical depth: to lead not for reward but for the flourishing of others.
The sweetness will always belong to others—their growth, success, and achievements—while the servant leader bears the suffering. But this is precisely the mark of greatness. Leadership tied to titles fades when the office is lost. Leadership rooted in service endures, even in the face of slander or betrayal.
Ultimately, the servant leader embodies a higher calling: to serve without expectation, to sacrifice without recognition, and to continue giving even when the world turns its back. In universities and beyond, this form of leadership remains the most powerful testament to integrity, humility, and the transformative potential of service.
