A Leader's Journey

Paul Wieand looked at the letter of "resignation" he was about to sign, but the words weren't registering. How could they fire me? Only days before, he and his wife were in Paris, celebrating his imminent appointment as CEO of Independence Bancorp, a $2 billion, 1000-employee bank based outside Philadelphia. Just four years earlier, in 1981, he had become the bank's president -- an auspicious accomplishment, especially for someone who was only 33. Now, at 37, he was set to become one of the country's youngest big-company CEOs. "I was on top of the world," recalls Wieand. "Money, power, success: I had everything I wanted."

But when he returned from his celebratory vacation, his world collapsed. His dream had become a nightmare. The bank's retiring CEO and the corporation counsel were waiting in his office with a resignation letter. For the past six months, Wieand and the cochairman of the board -- "a good old boy in his 50s" -- had been battling over who would become the next CEO. But Wieand had finally bullied his rival into giving up. Or so he thought. It was like a page out of a John Grisham novel: The gentleman banker, who had shaken Wieand's hand and graciously admitted defeat, was secretly plotting against him. While Wieand was away, the executive lobbied the board and got himself voted in as CEO.

Shell-shocked, Wieand plummeted into a deep depression; his already slim five-foot-six-inch frame dropped in weight from 140 pounds to 125 pounds in three weeks. He had youth, connections, and a sterling job record, and he could live years without working: His 30-acre Bucks County estate was paid for, and his severance package included three years' pay, along with a company car, a secretary, and an office for a year. But he felt as if he'd lost everything -- especially himself. "Without my position, I didn't know who I was," says Wieand. "I lost my identity."

Over time, though, Wieand used this devastating setback to rediscover himself, to reinvent his professional life -- and to rethink his entire approach to leadership. He returned to graduate school, in psychology, on a mission to understand what he describes as "the unconscious, destructive, and unresolved emotional processes that drive the corporate world." Then, after earning a PhD, he set up an office on his Ottsville, Pennsylvania estate and founded the Center for Advanced Emotional Intelligence. AEI is billed as a leadership-development program for top executives and entrepreneurs. Its goal is to turn ultra-achievers into "learning leaders" -- people with enough self-knowledge and emotional security to remain true to their "authentic" selves and also to grow from criticism. "In a time when change is the only constant," says Wieand, "a leader's self-concept can't remain fixed. Leaders have to be willing to listen and to learn from feedback, or they -- and their company -- won't grow."

Like Daniel Goleman, the author of two best-selling books on emotional intelligence, Wieand argues that emotion -- more than intellectual ability -- drives our thinking, our decision making, and our interactions with others. To be an effective leader, you need to be able to read your emotions as well as those of the people around you. "How can you build a company around 'shared values' when the CEO doesn't know what his or her values are?" Wieand asks.

Unlike so many leadership programs, which involve a day or two of lectures and a few exercises, Wieand's yearlong program (which costs between $25,000 and $40,000) is intense and tailored to the individual. The result is a cross between psychoanalysis and a graduate seminar in philosophy. Clients are given a wide battery of psychological tests, and Wieand's partner, psychologist Jan Birchfield, 40, conducts 360-degree interviews with clients' subordinates, peers, and bosses to uncover any "blind spots." Clients also watch emotionally charged films, such as "Ordinary People," and then discuss their reactions to those films. In private sessions, Wieand challenges clients to face their true selves, asking them such provocative questions as "What are your secrets? What are you ashamed of?" According to Wieand, "People who come in here are used to hearing how brilliant they are. We have to knock them down, peg by peg, before we can build them back up."

Wieand believes that executives and entrepreneurs in midlife are the most resistant to that kind of soul-searching -- although they are usually the ones who need it most. In fact, he says, many paradoxical truths define the search for identity: Identity solidifies, and people become intolerant of change by the time they reach their mid-30s. Yet the world of work demands flexibility. To become successful, people build on their strengths and work around their shortcomings, but when they push their strengths too far, those strengths become weaknesses. Finally (and perhaps most difficult to reckon with), the more successful and powerful people become, the harder it is for them to remain authentic. "You start playing a role that the corporate culture and the general culture expect you to play," Wieand says. "And suddenly you're thinking that you've got it all figured out, when all you've got is hubris."