On leadership: My reading list
Massoud Amin
I just picked up Kamala Harris’ new book, and I set out to read it closely. For nearly 40 years, I have done this without fail, across both parties and generations when a leader steps off the stage. I read them not to agree or disagree, but because such books are more than personal accounts. They are examinations of leadership under pressure. They reveal what individuals choose to emphasize, what they prefer to leave unsaid and how they hope to be remembered.
Over the past four decades, these memoirs have taken many forms. Jimmy Carter’s “Keeping Faith” (1982) is, according to The New York Times, “honest, sincere, intelligent, dry, humorless, and impersonal,” yet it radiates the quiet joy he found in governing, from improving diplomatic relations to mediating the Camp David accords between Anwar Sadat and Menachem Begin. Carter recounts his tenacity at the negotiating table and the belief that persistent dialogue could bridge seemingly irreconcilable divides.
Ronald Reagan’s “An American Life” (1990) was composed from his personal diaries. The autobiography is a work of major historical importance, praised as “honest, hopeful, and compellingly readable” for taking readers behind the scenes of his life and leadership. Reagan’s optimism and faith in America’s ability to renew itself saturate its pages.
George H.W. Bush chose a different format. “All the Best, George Bush” (1999) is a collection of letters. It is an intimate and revealing book that spans his life from an 18-year-old Navy pilot to the president. The preface explains why he opted for letters rather than a traditional memoir: The letters show his “heartbeat” and his candid thoughts on public service. Reading them, one senses a man who saw service as duty and found meaning in the bonds he forged along the way.
Bill Clinton’s “My Life” (2004) is sprawling and introspective. It takes readers from his childhood in Arkansas to the White House. Growing up in the 1950s and ’60s, he was immersed in the civil rights movement, the importance of religion and the power of storytelling in politics. The book recounts major domestic and foreign policies, including the North American Free Trade Agreement, welfare reform and the Dayton Accords. Clinton’s narrative underscores his conviction that domestic renewal and global engagement go hand in hand.
George W. Bush’s “Decision Points” (2010) takes a different approach. The former president organizes his book around a series of pivotal choices. It looks back at the most important decisions of his life and how he came to make them — decisions about Hurricane Katrina, the 9/11 attacks, the Iraq war and stem cell research. The title reflects its framework: Bush explains in detail how many of his major decisions as president came about. He offers transparency about why he acted as he did, though critics have faulted the book for defending rather than questioning his choices.
Barack Obama’s “A Promised Land” (2020) is introspective and meticulous. In writing it, Obama said his goal was “to provide an honest rendering of my time in office — to offer readers a glimpse at what it’s like to be the president of the United States.” The book weaves small details — how his clothes were pressed and folded — into discussions about economic crises and troop deployments. It is grounded in his belief that leaders must “take the long view” and resist getting hung up on daily swings.
Donald Trump’s “Letters to Trump” (2023) is not a memoir but a curated collection of correspondence. In it, he shares letters to and from celebrities, business partners and world leaders. The book reveals how he sees influence and relationships as power and hints at a worldview that prizes loyalty and personal networks over policy.
Joe Biden’s “Promise Me, Dad” (2017) is deeply personal, not primarily political. It chronicles the year when his son Beau was dying of brain cancer. The book centers on grief, resilience and the weight of being vice president while carrying the burden of family tragedy.
Kamala Harris now joins this lineage with her account of the 107 days after President Biden stepped aside from the 2024 race. In the early chapters, she writes about Biden’s “reckless” choice to run again, about feeling sidelined by advisers and about rivalries and doubts. These details matter for the historical record, but they lean heavily on conflict and grievance. Leadership is not defined by who wronged us or by how many obstacles were placed in our way. Leadership is defined by what we offer in response.
At moments of national crisis, history has remembered not the litany of complaints but the clarity of the call. In November 1863, with more than 200,000 Union soldiers dead, Abraham Lincoln traveled to Gettysburg, Pennsylvania. He did not enumerate the bitter divisions in his cabinet. He summoned Americans to complete “a new birth of freedom” and spoke of “government of the people, by the people, for the people.” In 272 words, he gave meaning to sacrifice and direction to a nation still bleeding.
A century later, in May 1961, John F. Kennedy addressed Congress after the Soviets had beaten the United States into space. He did not dwell on failure. He set a measurable, almost impossible goal — to land a man on the moon and return him safely to Earth before the decade’s end. That single act of vision united a country, inspired a generation of scientists and engineers and drove investments that shaped the modern economy.
That is the essence of leadership: to take hardship and turn it into purpose, to give people a worldview larger than themselves, and to set goals bold enough to outlive one’s own tenure. Harris’s book, at least so far, does not rise to that mark. It is a campaign diary, not a national compass.
The contrast matters because America faces its own defining tests now. Climate change is accelerating, costing the United States more than $165 billion in disasters in 2022 and claiming at least 474 lives. Our energy system is increasingly vulnerable; one analysis notes a 200 percent increase in cyberattacks on utilities in 2023 and an almost 70 percent increase in utility attacks in the U.S. in 2024. Public trust in government hovers near historic lows — only 8 percent of Americans expressed confidence in Congress in 2023. Artificial intelligence is poised to add up to $15.7 trillion to the global economy by 2030, yet its disruptive potential will reshape industries and employment. These forces will shape the next century more profoundly than any internal rivalry. They demand leadership of the Lincoln and Kennedy kind: precise, courageous and forward-looking.
The hopeful truth is that America has found such leaders before. In both parties, at moments of deep crisis, men and women have stepped forward with clarity and resolve. Carter persisted in the pursuit of peace, Reagan infused national renewal with optimism, Bush the elder stressed service and humility, Clinton navigated economic globalization, Bush the younger grappled with unprecedented attacks and wars, Obama reminded us to take the long view, Trump showed the power and pitfalls of personality politics, and Biden taught resilience through loss. Each offered lessons about what leadership can and cannot be.
The future of this country does not hinge on the grievances recorded in a memoir. It hinges on whether leaders, present and future, will measure themselves against the standard of vision and courage that history demands.
The good news is that America has found such leaders before, in both parties, at moments of deep crisis. We can do so again. Our future depends on it.
Massoud Amin is professor emeritus at the University of Minnesota.