In moments of high pressure or when the world feels particularly chaotic, maintaining composure can seem like an almost impossible feat. Whether we’re navigating professional challenges or personal turmoil, our ability to remain centered is continually tested. But what if there were simple, deeply personal tools available to help us cultivate and sustain this vital calm? One such powerful approach, often overlooked in its efficacy, is the deliberate return to, or establishment of, Rituals.Imagine this: After dedicating your life to opposing a brutal authoritarian government and advocating for a just and open society, you narrowly survive an assassination attempt with a nerve agent. You are safe in Germany with your family. Would you return, knowing it means certain arrest, imprisonment, or even death? This was the choice Alexei Navalny faced. Even still, in January 2021, Navalny boarded a flight back to Russia, leaving his children behind. He was detained immediately upon arrival and tragically died in a remote Siberian penal colony in February 2024. What compelled him to walk back into the fire? Navalny’s unimaginable courage was not an abstract trait but the product of a powerful heroic quest he had meticulously crafted for himself and others—all in service of serving the greater good of the Russian Federation. This narrative fueled his deep sense of Commitment—one of the 9 C’s of Courage from my research—and gave him a clear compass in the fog of uncertainty.
The stories we tell ourselves about our lives and goals have an enormous influence on our sense of self, our understanding of the wider world, and our ability to behave courageously. We know from our earliest childhood that stories have motivational power, arousing compelling emotions and in that way inspiring us to rise up and help others. Stories affect us imaginatively, allowing us to enter a different world and put ourselves in the action. There is actually a biochemical mechanism for this motivational and imaginative power of storytelling. Narratives can trigger the release of the neurochemical oxytocin, which floods our brains when we feel empathy or connections with others and that scholars have linked to altruistic action. As the neuroscientist Paul Zak has shown, the release of oxytocin thanks to a compelling story leads people to take positive actions, such as donating to a worthy cause.
Navalny’s heroic quest was so effective because it contained three core narrative elements: a compelling vision, formidable obstacles, and a practical path forward. His vision was “the beautiful Russia of the future”—a prosperous, democratic nation. The primary obstacle he identified was not just a corrupt elite led by Vladimir Putin, but a pervasive and corrosive sense of fatalism among ordinary Russians. His means were concrete and practical: investigating corruption, strategically using the electoral system, and organizing initiatives like “smart voting” to challenge incumbents. This potent, tension-filled story didn’t just inspire him; it mobilized thousands of others to find their own courage.
While this power bolsters all forms of courage, it is particularly instrumental in fostering moral courage—the willingness to act on one’s values despite social disapproval or career repercussions. Unlike physical courage, which often involves immediate bodily threats, moral courage is the willingness to act based on one’s values, even when facing social disapproval, potential risks, or career repercussions. It involves standing up for what one considers to be right and fair, often in the face of societal pressures or looming consequences. It entails an internal struggle against two powerful, natural instincts. The first is our drive toward self-preservation: we are wired to avoid exposing ourselves to risk—especially when those situations involve strangers rather than people with whom we share strong bonds. The second is our drive toward connection: we are wired to seek consensus, maintain peace, and preserve our social standing. Acting with moral courage means pushing against these primal forces. This is why a compelling personal narrative becomes so critical. It reframes the stakes, elevating a moral principle above the fear of social isolation or personal risk, giving us the strength to overcome our instinct to conform and providing a rallying point that can mobilize others.
This dynamic isn’t limited to the world of high-stakes politics; it is just as relevant in the business world. Consider Frances Haugen. In 2021, the former Facebook employee grew disturbed by the company’s unwillingness to address the rampant spread of misinformation on its platforms. Despite knowing the immense personal and professional risks, she felt compelled to act. She was committed to a narrative where she was a protector of truth, which in turn drove her to leak thousands of sensitive documents. Her story wasn’t just about exposing wrongdoing; it was about her identity as someone responsible for bringing injustice to light, a conviction that fueled her through the intense public scrutiny and personal attacks that followed. Ultimately, her courageous testimony before lawmakers sparked a global conversation about platform accountability and led to renewed calls for legislative oversight.
Both Navalny and Haugen show us that courage is not a reactive trait but a capacity we can cultivate. They consciously built their resolve by creating a narrative that defined a vision, identified obstacles, and outlined the means to overcome them. By authoring a story that attaches you to a meaningful cause, you can fire up deep-seated emotions, fueling not only your own resolve but also inspiring others to act alongside you in fighting for a worthy cause.
