Rizal’s Reformist Courage and the Human Nature Behind the Leaders We Choose

by Ricky Rillera

| Photo by Dan Dennis on Unsplash

I finally picked up one of the books I promised myself I would read this summer—Robert Greene’s The Laws of Human Nature, published in 2018. After a long while of letting it sit untouched, I opened it again. I was reminded of Greene’s central argument: that human behavior, whether in private life or national politics, follows deep psychological patterns. Leaders, followers, and what we might call bystanders are not accidental roles. They emerge from the forces Greene describes—our need for validation, our susceptibility to emotions, our hunger for power, and our fear of uncertainty.

Leaders: Vision, Discipline, and the Mastery of Human Nature
Greene argues that true leaders understand human nature at its core. They read people’s motivations, anticipate their fears, and channel collective energy toward a purpose larger than themselves. Historically, leaders who achieved lasting change—Nelson Mandela, Franklin D. Roosevelt, and José Rizal—did so not because they were flawless, but because they aligned personal ambition with national interest.

Rizal, though not a political leader in the conventional sense, embodied Greene’s idea of the “elevated individual”—someone who transcends reactive emotion and sees beyond the moment. His writings diagnosed the psychological conditions of colonial rule: fear, conformity, and the erosion of self-worth. By appealing to reason and dignity, Rizal awakened a national consciousness that ultimately reshaped Philippine history. Mandela’s long imprisonment taught him patience and empathy, qualities Greene associates with leaders who rise above ego. FDR’s leadership during the Great Depression and World War II showed how a leader can stabilize a nation by projecting calm and offering direction.

These figures acted with a sense of responsibility, Greene says, that is rare: the ability to subordinate ego to mission.

Followers: Emotion, Identity, and the Search for Meaning
Greene writes that followers are not passive. They choose leaders based on emotional resonance, not just policy. People follow those who reflect their frustrations, aspirations, or identity. In the U.S. today, political polarization reveals how followers gravitate toward leaders who validate their worldview. Some Americans seek strongman certainty; others seek moral clarity or technocratic competence. The divide is not simply ideological—it is psychological.

In the Philippines, followers often respond to leaders who promise order, familiarity, or nostalgia. The appeal of political dynasties, celebrity candidates, or populist figures reflects Greene’s idea that people are drawn to personalities who simplify complex problems into emotional narratives. Followers want to feel seen, protected, and understood. When institutions feel distant or ineffective, followers turn to leaders who speak directly to their anxieties.

Bystanders: The Silent Majority and the Psychology of Withdrawal
Greene does not use the term “bystander” explicitly, but he describes the phenomenon repeatedly. In his chapters on conformity, group dynamics, and passive-aggressive behavior, he explains how many people retreat from action when confronted with conflict or uncertainty. They observe but do not intervene. They feel overwhelmed, cynical, or distrustful of institutions.

In politics, bystanders are citizens who disengage—shaping outcomes through absence rather than participation. In both the U.S. and the Philippines, large segments of the population remain politically quiet, influencing elections not through votes but through silence. Greene warns that when bystanders withdraw, opportunistic leaders gain more space to manipulate narratives. Silence becomes a political force—one that can either stabilize or destabilize a nation depending on who fills the vacuum.

Today’s Leaders: A Contrast in Motivations
Greene’s book suggests that many modern leaders operate from reactive emotion rather than grounded purpose. Instead of elevating public discourse, some amplify fear, grievance, or division. In the U.S., political rhetoric often rewards outrage more than vision. In the Philippines, personality politics sometimes overshadows long-term planning. Globally, leaders who prioritize personal power over institutional strength weaken democratic norms.

This is not unique to any one country. Greene would say it is a recurring pattern in human nature: when leaders become consumed by ego, followers become polarized, and bystanders retreat. The cycle repeats until a leader emerges who can break it through empathy, discipline, and strategic clarity.

What Greene Ultimately Teaches
Greene’s message is that understanding human nature is essential for navigating political life. Leaders must cultivate self-awareness; followers must recognize emotional manipulation; bystanders must understand the cost of disengagement. Nations thrive when leaders elevate rather than exploit human behavior.

The challenge today is that the pace of information, the intensity of social media, and the global scale of crises make emotional reactivity more common. Yet Greene reminds us that the principles of human nature have not changed. What separates great leaders from destructive ones is not ideology—it is their ability to master their own impulses and guide the impulses of others.

A Closing Reflection
As I continue reading this summer, I’m struck by how timeless Greene’s insights feel. Leaders, followers, and bystanders will always exist—but the balance between them determines the fate of nations. The question for our time is whether we can cultivate leaders who act with purpose, followers who think critically, and bystanders who choose engagement over silence.

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