Nearly 40 years ago, while working toward my Ph.D., I enrolled in an advanced Italian literature course to satisfy a language requirement. Because of my Italian heritage, my having studied the language for three years in college, and my having grown up in an extended family that spoke it, I chose Italian.
I expected a rigorous academic hurdle, which it was. However, to my surprise, I found myself reading Dante’s Inferno in its original form in Italian. I discovered that I not only admired the poetic form but also the allegory and the hidden meaning of this masterful work. Only decades later, after coaching hundreds of CEOs and senior executives, did I realize Dante had quietly handed me a map for human development that would be the missing piece not only in the puzzle of my own psychological work, but also that of my clients.
Dante begins not in Paradise but in the Inferno, but before there is ascent, there is descent. The Greeks called this katabasis—a journey beneath appearances into what is hidden. That image has stayed with me because so much of leadership development emphasizes only the climb: becoming more resilient, more strategic, more confident, more effective. Those aspirations matter. But that tells only half the story.
In The Republic, Plato suggests that our deepest problem is not a lack of intelligence but a lack of self-knowledge. Ignorance is not simply not knowing; it is mistaking our assumptions, fears, and habits for reality. We become divided within ourselves. One part longs for wisdom while another quietly protects old identities and familiar defenses.
Over the years, I have come to see both personal and leadership development as unfolding in three movements.
First comes understanding the virtue we seek.
Next comes the more difficult movement: descending into the shadow that obscures it, recognizing it, owning it in the fullest sense, and then coming to grips with its role and purpose in our lives. This might look like a defense mechanism or a finely tuned habit that has turned ineffective.
Finally comes practice—slowing down enough to notice the uncomfortable feeling in our stomach, or the speeding up of our breathing and speech. Ultimately, we intercept the conditioned response pattern long enough to bring ourselves back into our neocortex, to decide to and ultimately respond from our aspired virtue. Over time, we find ourselves living differently until the virtue becomes less something we perform and more someone we have become.
Resilience illustrates the pattern. We admire the leader who never quits, yet what looks like resilience can actually be denial. Beneath relentless performance often lies the fear of appearing weak or disappointing others.
Likewise, confidence can disguise anxiety. One executive I coached, who was admired for his operational excellence, believed that executive presence meant sounding more certain. Together we discovered that his certainty was protecting him from vulnerability. As awareness grew, presence emerged naturally. He no longer needed to perform confidence because he was becoming more comfortable with himself.
Projection is often the doorway into this deeper work. The qualities that most irritate us in others frequently reveal conversations we have not yet had with ourselves. Katabasis invites a different question: What part of this reaction belongs to me? Conflict becomes less of a problem to solve and more of a mirror in which we glimpse the divided parts of our own soul.
None of this happens without psychological safety. When we feel threatened, we defend. When we feel safe, curiosity replaces certainty, and feedback becomes less a verdict than a gift. A trusted coach, colleague, or friend can provide the space where honest self-observation becomes possible.
Modern neuroscience unexpectedly echoes these ancient insights. Lisa Feldman Barrett argues that our emotions are constructed through predictions shaped by past experience. We do not merely perceive reality; we interpret it before we are even aware we are doing so. Plato described ignorance philosophically. Barrett helps explain it neurologically. Both invite us toward greater awareness.
Looking back, I smile at the younger version of myself laboring over Dante’s epic prose. I thought I was merely learning a language to fulfill a requirement for my doctoral work. In truth, I was beginning a lifelong education in leadership and the human soul.
Every meaningful life asks us to make two journeys. One is upward toward wisdom, courage, compassion, and excellence. The other is downward into fear, projection, and the unconscious assumptions that quietly govern our lives. Dante could not reach Paradise by avoiding the Inferno. Neither can we.
Perhaps the path of development can be remembered in three simple words: Aspiration. Illumination. Embodiment. We aspire toward the virtues we admire. We illuminate the hidden fears, projections, and assumptions that obscure them. And through deliberate practice, we embody those virtues until they become our character rather than our performance. Sometimes the most courageous step upward begins with the willingness to descend.
