Hubris, the ancient Greek word for excessive pride or self-confidence, has toppled empires, ruined careers, and brought billion-dollar companies to their knees. It begins quietly, almost invisibly: a string of successes, a rise in reputation, the belief that failure is a problem for other people. Then, like a slow leak in a pressurised system, it builds into something dangerous.
For individuals, hubris warps judgment. The brilliant CEO starts ignoring advisors. The rising politician dismisses dissent. Confidence becomes arrogance, and the ability to course-correct fades. The fall, when it comes, is often swift and public not because failure was inevitable, but because warning signs were ignored.
Organisations suffer in similar ways. Success breeds complacency or overreach. Innovation stalls, blind spots widen, and the culture grows intolerant of feedback. Executives start believing the rules don’t apply to them until a scandal, a market shift, or a more agile competitor forces a reckoning. Or in the aged care sector, an operator fights back.
Hubris isn't just a flaw; it's a risk factor. Left unchecked, it turns strength into vulnerability. But when recognised and tempered with humility, curiosity, and a willingness to listen it can be the difference between a short-lived success and enduring impact. The myth of Icarus wasn’t just about flight. It was a warning: soar high but never forget what happens when you fly too close to the sun.
Hubris is more than just overconfidence it’s the kind of pride that blinds us to reality. It’s the belief that being right is more important than being reasonable, that winning an argument justifies the cost of the battle. In other words, people or residents in this case get hung up on "it’s the principle of it all.”
In community settings like retirement villages, where cooperation and shared living are essential, hubris can be especially corrosive. We've all seen it: a resident becomes so fixated on proving a point or defending a principle that they stop listening, negotiating, or considering the wider impact. The result? An operator spending thousands of dollars in legal fees, strained relationships between residents within the Village community, and reputations damaged beyond repair. And for what? A "victory" that feels hollow, and a Village that bears the scars.
It’s a cautionary tale not just for individuals, but for organisations too. Operators who dismiss concerns out of pride, or residents who escalate out of ego, can turn manageable issues into expensive crises. Conflict creates income, and sometimes no one truly wins. The irony of hubris is that it often begins with a desire to do what’s right. But without self-awareness, humility, and the ability to compromise, it quickly spirals into something destructive.
In the end, it doesn’t just tarnish the person who let pride lead the way, it destabilises the very community they claim to care about. Sometimes, the most powerful thing a resident can do is not insist on being right, but choose to be wise.