The Parable of the Anonymous King
“I will turn your face to alabaster when you find your servant is your master.” Sting, Wrapped Around Your Finger.
In a land not so far away from here but many years into the future, there lived a king whose face was so unpleasing that it seemed as if nature itself had conspired against him.
His name was King Lotab, and he ruled the Kingdom of Zohar. He was so mortified by his appearance that he never allowed anyone to lay eyes upon him. Even his advisors communicated with him through intricate systems of notes and whispers behind grand velvet curtains.
But King Lotab’s physical deformity concealed a mind of great clarity and a heart of pure gold. He understood that vanity and the pursuit of self-glorification often blinded leaders, leading them to make decisions that served only their interests or inflated their egos. Modern models of leadership, consumed by the narcissistic tendencies of maintaining image, social standing, or even virality on far-off digital platforms, often forgot the genuine essence of leadership: to serve the needs of the people and the land.
Lotab had a secret. Cloaked in garments that concealed his identity, and because no one knew what he looked like, he would walk among his subjects, listening to their conversations, observing their struggles, and even engaging them in dialogue. Unlike many leaders, who lived elevated on the dais of their own egos, Lotab lived alongside those he led, understanding that truth often resides not in grand palaces but in the simple family houses and humble huts found all over the country.
The result was a reign that was hailed as one of the most just and fair. Roads were built where they were needed most, not just where they could be seen from the palace. Laws were enacted that truly served the common good rather than interfered with by the King to protect his own interests. Resources were allocated in a manner that nourished not just the elite but every man, woman, and child in the kingdom. Where was justice in a society when one family owned five palaces and ten castles, and its hard-working nurses supporting its healthcare system needed to survive on charity and food banks?
In this way, King Lotab set forth a model of leadership deeply contrasting the modern archetypes preoccupied with self. Instead of a leadership model that was a portrait with the leader at the centre, his was a tapestry where the threads of each citizen wove the real image of a just society. His legacy was not carved in statues erected in his image but in the vibrant lives of his subjects and the harmonious rhythm of a society in balance.
Meaning
The tale of King Lotab critiques the narcissistic tendencies prevalent in modern models of leadership, where the leader’s visibility often overshadows the needs of the people.
Whether it is politicians engrossed in theatrics, corporate leaders obsessed with market image, or even influencers captivated by likes and follows, the result is a distorted sense of governance and authority. This ultimately just serves the leader and, at the same time, disservices society, breeding resentment and inefficacy.
King Lotab offers a different vision. By immersing himself anonymously among his subjects, he embodies servant leadership, an approach that places the needs of the community above the self.
This mirrors some of the philosophies seen in spiritual doctrines and ancient governance models, such as the Taoist concept of ‘Wu Wei,’ or effortless action, where a great leader is one who accomplishes much but is hardly noticed.
In a world that increasingly confuses visibility with validity and noise with nuance, the story of the Anonymous King serves as a reminder. True leadership is not about standing above the people, and telling them how great you are; it is about walking among them, listening to them, and then guiding them towards a better future. Only then can a society — or indeed, a world — function in a way that benefits the many over the few.
Nick Stafford
