By Jason Lim
Without a doubt, Lim Jae-bum must be the comeback story of the year. Once a forgotten, over-the-hill rocker, Lim came back with a vengeance in the popular imagination after his appearances on the new hit show, “I Am a Singer.”
It wasn’t just his performances that won him a place in the hearts of millions of new fans. Of course, that is not to say that his singing wasn’t worth the hyperbolic praise that he had garnered ― his performances were raw, original and devastating.
But his explosive popularity was founded not just on his skills as an artist. No, his popularity was largely based on the story that lay behind his comeback.
Whether by accident or by design, Lim has always been aloof, unapproachable, and too edgy to be comfortable in the mainstream. He was always a great singer, but singing wasn’t enough. He was unknowable, which necessarily meant that he was soon forgotten by an audience that wanted their stars to be likeable and witty. And being forgotten also meant that he was unemployed most of the time.
But it was the story of his struggle that ultimately turned out to be his saving grace. The details came out in bits and pieces through his interviews. His wife was stricken with cancer, and he was devastated by her sickness.
He struggled on a diminishing income and couldn’t even afford a car to take his family to the amusement park. He was a repentant husband and a doting father to his only daughter, who decided to appear on the show because his family so enjoyed watching him sing on the tube.
As he shared his story, he became more real, more tangible. Lim became someone that we could connect with. He was now knowable because we could relate to his story. We cheered for him because he was one of us now. In short, his story became our story. We wanted him to win the singing competition because he was our champion.
From a forgotten rock singer to our champion in a few weeks. Such is the power of a public narrative. A story.
But the power of a good story goes far beyond the instant making of a star. In fact, storytelling is the essence of great leadership because, as Marshal Ganz of Harvard Kennedy School points out, stories “teach us to act. Our stock of stories … teaches us how to act in the face of uncertainty … But they not only teach us how we ‘ought’ to act, they actually inspire us to act. The inspiration grows out of the fact that stories summon emotions, emotions that are rooted in our values, or our moral convictions.”
In short, stories help us define and understand who we are in this world and make choices based on that self-awareness. Unfortunately, Korean leaders don’t have a good grasp of this powerful leadership tool. Rather, they have a tendency to confuse arguments with stories. But they couldn’t be further apart.
Arguments can be won based on logic, evidence and data. Arguments are all about proving whether a claim is right or wrong. However, a story is not about right or wrong. Stories are about their effect on listeners. Good stories invoke great emotions, reaffirm core values and inspire actions. Let me share an example.
I once interpreted for a well-known, progressive South Korean politician in a round-table discussion at a Washington, D.C., think-tank. The denuclearization of North Korea was the topic at hand.
The politician had a very keen and astute mind. She made her points by citing historical examples, highlighting mistakes made by the U.S. in its negotiations and analyzing the pros and cons of different options. She had many members of the audience nodding their heads in agreement by the time she was done.
Then a conservative panel member asked her: “Before we argue the specific points, can you tell me whether you believe Kim Jong-il is a good person or not?”
On the surface, it was a ridiculous question that had nothing to do with the topic being discussed. It was even an unfair question. However, it was nevertheless a powerful question because it immediately shifted the whole discussion from one of argument to one of stories. And we know that stories are more effective in evoking one’s emotions and values.
So, with that one question, the conservative panel member shaped the discussion as one of competing stories of how North Korean people should be allowed to live versus an argument over the finer points of an international negotiation.
Who do you think won the day? The person who had the better story to shape the discussion with, of course. The important lesson is that logic may win arguments, but you will end up making enemies even if you win. Stories will win hearts and end up making you friends. Which would you choose? Which would get you what you want in the long run?
These are key leadership questions that a good story will be able to answer.
Jason Lim is a Washington, D.C.,-based consultant in organizational leadership, culture and change management. He has been writing for The Korea Times since 2006. He can be reached at jasonlim@msn.com and on Facebook.com/jasonlim2000.