There was a time when entering politics meant something noble; the intentions were to serve, a commitment to bettering the lives of others, and a promise to represent those who are left out. In today’s landscape, that original flame of service goes out due to arrogance, greed, and the intoxicating lure of power.

The corridors of governance, once meant to echo with the voices of the people, now reverberate with self-congratulation, entitlement, and a superiority complex that alienates leaders from the very citizens who placed them there. This erosion of purpose has real and damaging consequences, leading to policies that serve the few, not the many, and a loss of trust in our democratic institutions.

The original mission: Service before self

Some politicians embark on their journey with a genuine desire to make a difference. They fashion their campaign on change, justice, and fairness. They promise to mediate between privilege and poverty, hope and despair. For a moment, their intentions are pure. They speak with conviction, often shaped by the hardships they’ve witnessed or endured. Their message resonates because it is human. They know what it means to struggle, be overlooked, and need someone in power who listens.

But somewhere along the way, something shifts.

Power is seductive. It begins quietly, as all temptations do — a small privilege here, a special favour there. Soon, what was once unthinkable becomes routine. The line between service and self-interest blurs. Those who once swore to dismantle the establishment begin to protect it, wrapping themselves in the same systems they vowed to reform. They forget that authentic leadership is not about elevation above others, but connection with them. This seduction of power is a warning, a call to vigilance against its corrosive influence. It’s a transformation that leaves us disillusioned with the current state of politics.

The descent into arrogance

Arrogance doesn’t announce itself; it creeps in gradually. It shows up when a politician stops listening to the people who put them there, when they dismiss criticism as ignorance, when humility gives way to hubris. The “servant of the people” transforms into a self-styled monarch, insulated from accountability and enamoured by the sound of their own voice.

This arrogance manifests subtly: a disdainful tone when addressing dissenters, a reluctance to meet constituents, and an obsession with optics over outcomes. The leader who once walked through neighbourhoods to shake hands now walks only on red carpets. They no longer hear the cries of the people, only the applause of sycophants.

It’s the disease of self-importance and spreads quickly once it takes hold.

The newcomers who once leaned on the wisdom of seasoned advisors suddenly believe they have outgrown them. Experience is dismissed as old-fashioned, caution as cowardice. The transformation from learner to “Mr Know-It-All” is complete. These same individuals, who once admired humility in their mentors, now wield arrogance as armour. They confuse leadership with infallibility. They mistake fear for respect.

Avarice: The quiet killer of purpose

If arrogance is the mask, avarice is the motive.

Money — and the influence it buys — has corrupted the core of too many political souls. What begins as a desire for recognition morphs into a hunger for wealth and control. Lobbyists whisper in their ears, donors dictate their decisions, and soon, the people they promised to protect are no longer in the equation.

The mission that once centred around service now orbits around self-preservation and accumulation. The politician’s measure of success is no longer the number of lives improved but the size of their campaign fund, the reach of their network, and the comfort of their seat. They forget that the greatest currency in politics is trust — and once spent, it’s almost impossible to earn back. We witness a disappointing loss of purpose due to avarice and misuse of political power.

The avaricious politician begins to rationalise their greed. “It’s how the system works,” they say. “Everyone does it.” However, corruption doesn’t start with the first stolen dollar; it begins with the first compromised principle.

The superiority complex of the elected

Perhaps the most damaging transformation is the development of a superiority complex — the dangerous belief that leadership equates to moral or intellectual supremacy. We see it in how some leaders talk down to citizens, as if the electorate is too naive to understand “how things really work”. We see it in their dismissive smirks when confronted with tricky questions and condescending speeches that substitute empathy for eloquence. They forget that no one is too important to serve and no one is too unimportant to be heard.

Public office was never meant to be a pedestal. It was meant to be a platform that amplifies the people’s needs, not the politician’s ego standing on it. When power becomes a personal identity rather than a public responsibility, leadership loses its moral compass. Humility, the recognition that no one is too important to serve and no one is too unimportant to be heard, is the cornerstone of authentic leadership.

The superiority complex is particularly galling because it’s built on insecurity. The same leaders who demand constant validation from the public often lack the internal conviction that once drove them. They cover their loss of purpose with arrogance, their moral emptiness with grand speeches, and their detachment with staged photo-ops.

But people notice. They always do.

The people’s measuring stick

The general public may not have access to classified briefings or insider information, but they have something far more valuable — intuition. People can tell when someone is genuine. They can sense authenticity in the way they feel warmth from sunlight. You can’t fake it, at least not for long.

“How you make people feel” — that’s the actual measuring stick of leadership. It’s not policy papers or press releases that define a leader’s legacy; it’s the collective memory of those they led. Did they feel seen? Heard? Respected? Or did they feel dismissed, patronised, and used?

No leader should ever underestimate the public’s capacity to discern character. You can’t disrespect people Monday through Saturday and expect them to vote for you on Sunday. Empathy is not a political strategy — it’s a moral necessity. A politician who cannot connect with the everyday struggles of citizens is unfit to represent them.

When arrogance takes the place of authenticity, the disconnection becomes visible. The once-genuine smiles become forced. The town hall visits turn into photo opportunities. The words lose their soul. People stop believing because they no longer feel believed in.

The few who remain true

Despite the growing cynicism surrounding politics, the rare and remarkable still maintain their genuine connection with the people. They resist the temptations of arrogance and greed, holding tight to the moral compass that first drew them to public service. These leaders don’t measure success in power or possessions but in the progress of those left behind.

They are the ones who still take calls from constituents without delegating empathy to an assistant. They walk through communities, not for cameras, but for understanding. They advocate for those who fall through the cracks, and their words carry the weight of sincerity when they speak. They remember that leadership is not about being above people, but among them. Such leaders are often underestimated because they refuse to play the political theatre. They don’t trade integrity for influence. And though they may not always dominate headlines, history has a way of remembering those who served with humility rather than hubris.

Position should never redefine purpose

Power and influence are supposed to magnify one’s mission, not distort it. Yet too many let the position redefine their purpose. They forget that their office is borrowed, on loan from the people, and can just as easily be taken back.

Authentic leadership requires remembering why you started, even when the rewards of forgetting are great. It requires resisting the illusion that position makes you essential. Position doesn’t make you; purpose does. Titles fade, but the impact of your integrity does not.

A politician grounded in purpose understands that every decision, every word, every gesture ripples through the lives of others. They recognize that humility is not weakness — it’s strength under control. They lead not to be admired, but to be of use.

The people are taking notes

The arrogance of today’s political class may be tolerated, but it is not unnoticed. The people are watching, listening, remembering. Every act of condescension, every moment of hypocrisy, every instance of self-service is recorded in the silent ledger of public opinion. And that ledger is far more enduring than any poll or press conference.

Leaders often mistake silence for approval, politeness for ignorance, and, make no mistake, people are taking notes. When election day comes, the ballots will speak louder than applause. No amount of public relations can mask the stench of arrogance once it has soured the public’s trust.

The call for profound genuineness

If there is one quality that should define public life, it is profound genuineness—not rehearsed empathy, not photo-op compassion, but genuine, unfiltered sincerity. It is the greatest asset any public figure can possess and the rarest.

Genuineness requires vulnerability and a willingness to admit imperfection. It requires listening without defensiveness and leading without self-glorification. It’s about remembering that service means sacrifice, not self-promotion. The public is hungry for authenticity. They don’t expect perfection; they expect truth. They understand that every leader is human, but demand that every leader remain humane. Real know real!

Reclaiming the mission

The tragedy of modern politics is not that power corrupts, but that it convinces the corrupted that they are still virtuous. To reclaim the mission of service, politicians must confront their own reflection — to ask not “What can I gain from this position?” but “Who am I here to serve?” If every public official began their day by remembering the faces of those they represent — the single mother juggling two jobs, the veteran struggling with medical bills, the child in an underfunded school — arrogance would wither in the face of empathy. The title of “Honourable” should be earned daily, not inherited by election.

Leadership without humility is tyranny, and power without empathy is exploitation. The mission must be revived, not through slogans but through sincerity. The measure of a leader is not how high they rise but how deeply they care.

In the end

Facing reality, arrogance may win elections, avarice may fill coffers, and superiority may command attention. However, only genuineness earns respect, and only respect sustains leadership. When the speeches are forgotten and the statues crumble, people will remember how a leader made them feel, because in the end, public service is not about power.

It’s about people; people always remember the difference between being ruled and being respected.