I am in a far-away place in a far-away land and my handler, Kuong, tells me that we need to leave by dusk. If the army finds us here, it won’t be good for anyone. “Especially, me,” he says. You know those late night informercials where starving kids in Africa are on screens with big bellies and flies on their noses? I’m here. Except there are no charities or infrastructure in sight. Kuong calls it a displaced people’s camp. The UN runs a few too but wouldn’t let us in. So he suggests we come to this one that is “run” by the South Sudanese government. Food arrives by helicopter that falls from the sky in big bags. I’ll write more about my trip here, dear reader, as I write this book in public. There’s a lot I learned in South Sudan that I’ll share with you. But today I want to focus on Caroline. She did not ask why I had come. She did not ask what I did for a living. Instead, she asked me to hold out my hands. Her eyesight was fading from cataracts, so she held my hands to see me. She ran her fingers across my palm lines. Her hands felt rough but her finger tips moved gently as if she were reading a language built by her and only for her. “I’m just staying here. I don’t know anything,” she says. “I don’t even know anything about the world.” And in that moment, I realized something no leadership seminar had ever taught me. My values – your values – have to pass the Caroline test. Let me explain: In organizations, we spend enormous energy crafting value statements. We print them on glossy pamphlets, engrave them on office walls and shout them from conference hall stages. From a distance, they look impressive. They signal intention. They suggest direction. But values are not tested at a distance. They are tested in proximity. The gritty, messy, will-I-ever-get-through-this moments. That’s where life tests your values. When the future can’t clearly be seen? That’s when leaders either lean into their values or trash them like the pamphlets they’re written on. Caroline could not evaluate me visually. She could not read my résumé or watch a podcast about my leadership skills. She had only her gut. Most leaders believe their primary responsibility is to provide vision. And vision matters. But in volatile environments like displacement camps or board rooms, the future is never fully visible. Markets shift. Plans change. In those moments, people do not follow clarity. They follow the conviction they can feel. The real question is simpler and more demanding. Could Caroline feel your values, with no titles, mission statements or proof points? I was a stranger in a strange land. She was one of the elders in the camp. Her participation wasn’t obligatory or confirmed. When we came up with her message, wrote on her skin, I knew I’d passed her test. Sincerely, Robert PS: We help leaders see their people, develop new values and deliver transformational keynote experiences. If you’re looking for that in 2026 or 2027, talk to our team and learn more at http://robertxfogarty.com PSS: Me and my South Sudan team!
