My journey with Professor Bonang Mohale stretches back more than two decades.
Over those years, our interactions have moved beyond the formalities of professional engagement into something deeper: a relationship rooted in mutual respect and genuine affection. Those who know Mohale will recognise that he evokes that response in many people. He is a leader who commands admiration not through authority alone but through the warmth of his humanity.
Mohale is many things: an accomplished business leader, an author, a thinker and currently the chancellor of the University of the Free State. He has led major corporations, chaired important institutions and spoken in many forums about leadership, nation-building and ethical governance. Yet, beyond the impressive titles and achievements lies something far more important: a deep and abiding love for people.
When I recently had the privilege of interviewing him on my show, Power Week on Power 98.7, the conversation moved in many directions, as one would expect when engaging someone with such a rich life experience.
We spoke about leadership, the state of our nation, the responsibility of business and the future of our young people. But beneath all those threads was a powerful and simple truth: you cannot lead people if you do not love them.
It reminded me of the famous words of Jimi Hendrix: “When the power of love overcomes the love of power, the world will know peace.” Those words lingered in my mind long after the interview ended. They speak directly to the challenge of leadership in our time.
Too often, leadership is seduced by power. The allure of authority, prestige and influence can slowly overwhelm the original motivation to serve people. What begins as a commitment to uplift communities can quietly turn into an obsession with status and control. When that happens, leaders stop listening. They stop caring. They stop seeing the pain of those they claim to represent.
As Mohale spoke about leadership, one could hear the difference. For him, leadership is not about occupying positions. It is about responsibility. It is about stewardship. It is about understanding that people place their hopes in those who lead them.
I often remind myself that “leadership is not measured by the height of the chair you occupy but by the depth of the love you hold for those you serve”. Without that love, leadership becomes mechanical, distant and ultimately destructive.
The idea of loving one’s people might sound simple but in practice it demands sacrifice. It requires patience, humility and courage. It asks leaders to place the wellbeing of others ahead of their own ambitions.
During the radio interview, my thoughts wandered to a conversation I once had with the late Professor Jakes Gerwel. He was reflecting on a moment during negotiations between warring factions in Burundi that were taking place in South Africa under the guidance of President Nelson Mandela.
Madiba, known for his patience and grace, reportedly reached a moment of visible irritation with the delegates. As the negotiations dragged on, he reminded them of a painful reality: while they debated in the safety of conference rooms in South Africa, their people were killing one another back home.
According to Gerwel, Mandela asked them a question that cut through all the political posturing: “Where is the love for your people?”
That question is timeless. It applies not only to political leaders in conflict zones but to leaders everywhere—in government, business, civil society and even within families. If leadership is not anchored in love for people, it loses its moral compass.
Yet there is also an important caution here. Loving your people must never translate into hating others. True leadership does not build its strength by creating enemies. It does not define belonging in ways that exclude humanity.
Your love for your people must expand your humanity, not shrink it. If our affection for those we identify as ours leads us to dehumanise others, then we have misunderstood the very essence of leadership.
Our world today desperately needs this kind of reflection. The headlines that greet us every morning are heavy with stories of conflict and suffering. We see war in Sudan, where communities have been torn apart by violence. We see the ongoing tragedy in the Democratic Republic of Congo, where countless lives have been disrupted by instability. We watch with anxiety as tensions escalate in the Middle East, including the confrontation between Israel, the United States and Iran. It is deeply saddening to watch other European nations being drawn further into this conflict, sending ever more weapons under the language of “defence,” when in reality such actions risk deepening the cycle of destruction rather than truly safeguarding the people and interests they claim to protect.
Behind the geopolitical language and diplomatic statements are ordinary people whose lives are shattered by decisions made far from the frontlines. Families are displaced. Children die and others grow up in fear. Entire communities lose their sense of normality.
It forces us to ask difficult questions about the nature of leadership in our time.
Do those who wield power truly feel the pain of the people whose lives are affected by their decisions?
Do they pause long enough to consider the human cost? Or has the seduction of power drowned out the quiet voice of compassion?
Kindness can seem like a fragile virtue in a ruthless world. Yet it is precisely kindness that distinguishes leadership from domination. It is empathy that allows leaders to recognise the humanity in those who disagree with them.
During the interview with Mohale, one could sense that this empathy is not theoretical for him. It is a lived reality. His reflections were grounded in a deep understanding that leadership carries a moral responsibility.
It reminded me of a book that has long stayed with me, Morata Baabo (The One Who Loved His People), written by Ngaka Modiri Molema and later edited by Sabata-Mpho Mokae. The book reflects on the life and times of Sol Plaatje, one of South Africa’s greatest intellectuals and freedom fighters, who would have celebrated his 150th birthday this year.
The title itself captures the essence of leadership: a person who loved his people.
Plaatje sacrificed comfort and personal security to fight for justice and dignity. His leadership was not motivated by power but by an unwavering commitment to the wellbeing of his country.
Sacrifice, indeed, is the hallmark of leaders who genuinely love their people.
In our time, however, we too often encounter the opposite. Corruption, questionable decisions and policies that enrich a few while leaving the majority behind have eroded public trust in leadership.
When leaders misuse public resources or prioritise personal gain over societal progress, they reveal a painful truth: they have fallen in love with power rather than people.
As I reflected on my conversation with Mohale, I kept returning to a simple conviction: the future will depend on the kind of leaders we choose and nurture.
We must choose leaders who are capable of compassion. Leaders who understand that the measure of success is not the accumulation of wealth or influence but the improvement of human lives.
Mandela once reminded us that “what counts in life is not the mere fact that we have lived. It is what difference we have made to the lives of others”.
That principle should guide every person who aspires to lead.
Remember, history remembers leaders not for the power they held but for the love they showed.
When we examine the leaders who continue to inspire humanity—Ahmed Kathrada, Martin Luther King Jr., Mahatma Gandhi, Wangari Maathai, Desmond Tutu—we see a common thread. They were guided by a profound love for people. They believed that leadership was a calling to serve, not an opportunity to dominate.
Mohale belongs to that tradition of leadership that seeks to uplift rather than intimidate, to inspire rather than control.
Our conversation reminded me that the future of our societies will not be secured by clever strategies alone. It will be secured by moral courage.
It will be secured by leaders who understand that compassion is not weakness but strength.
It will be secured by people who refuse to accept that cruelty and indifference must define the world we live in.
Ultimately, leadership begins with a choice. The choice to love people more than power.
The choice to see humanity in others, even when the world encourages division. The choice to serve rather than to rule.
If we can make that choice, individually and collectively, then perhaps the words of Jimi Hendrix will move closer to reality: when the power of love overcomes the love of power, the world will know peace.
And perhaps one day, when future generations look back on our time, they will say that we finally understood what it truly means to lead.
Because in the end, you have to love your people to lead them.
Sello Hatang is the executive director of Re Hata Mmoho.
Too often, leadership is seduced by power. The allure of authority, prestige and influence can slowly overwhelm the original motivation to serve people. What begins as a commitment to uplift communities can quietly turn into an obsession with status and control