Narrator: It’s New Year’s Eve, 1997, in a crowded Manchester nightclub. A young John Amaechi, already towering over everyone at six-foot-nine, is hesitant to join the celebration on the dance floor. But as the countdown to midnight begins, he gives in, swept up in the energy of the Jackson Five’s "Can You Feel It." He dances with abandon, arms flailing, completely lost in the moment. Suddenly, his sister tugs at his arm, her face a mask of horror. She points to a man on the floor, clutching a face that is now a mess of blood. In his joyful carelessness, Amaechi had forgotten his own size, his own power, and had accidentally broken a stranger’s nose. The man is whisked away before Amaechi can even apologize, leaving him with a profound and haunting realization: forgetting you’re a giant, even for a moment, can have dire consequences.

This single, painful memory forms the central question of John Amaechi’s book, The Promises of Giants. It argues that leadership isn’t about titles or authority, but about influence. Whether through physical size, seniority, expertise, or even just social standing, we are all giants to someone. The book is a guide to recognizing that influence and wielding it with the vigilance, care, and integrity it demands, so that we elevate others instead of leaving them bloodied on the dance floor.

Narrator: Before one can lead others, Amaechi argues, one must first lead oneself. This journey begins with a promise to view oneself critically, but not cruelly. The foundation of this idea was laid for Amaechi not in a boardroom, but in his childhood home. As a bookish, awkward teenager, he announced to his mother, a formidable family physician, his audacious dream of playing in the NBA. Instead of discussing logistics, she posed a question that would define his life: "Would you recognize your soul in the dark?"

She explained that extraordinary goals are derailed not by external competition, but by internal blind spots and self-sabotage. To succeed, he had to know himself intimately and objectively. This meant confronting his weaknesses—his laziness, his love for pie—not as character flaws, but as data points to be managed. This principle of critical self-assessment is the first promise a giant must make. It requires filtering the harsh, unproductive voice of the inner critic, which Amaechi likens to imposter syndrome, from the useful data that signals a need for growth. He reframes imposter syndrome not as a personal failing, but as a natural response to systemic pressures, especially for those who don't fit the traditional leadership mold. True self-knowledge is the starting point for any meaningful journey of leadership.

Narrator: With a clear understanding of self, a leader must then promise to act with integrity. This involves two critical commitments: acting with vigilance against personal bias and rejecting the comfort of excuses. Amaechi launches a powerful critique of conventional unconscious bias training, calling it "absolute bunkum." He illustrates its futility with a sharp analogy: imagine going to a doctor with a broken foot, and instead of setting the bone, the doctor simply gives you a brand-new pair of Air Jordan sneakers. The sneakers look good and signal that a problem has been addressed, but the underlying injury remains untreated and will only get worse.

Amaechi argues that unconscious bias training functions like those sneakers. It makes organizations feel good but fails to address the actual behaviors that cause harm. Instead of trying to change how people think, which is nearly impossible, leaders should focus on what can be observed, measured, and corrected: behavior and rhetoric. This requires vigilance, which he defines as approaching every interaction with "benign ignorance and enthusiastic inquisitiveness"—a state of genuine curiosity that neutralizes preconceived notions. It also means rejecting the pervasive "cult of busy" and the excuse of "not enough time." True leaders, he asserts, understand that their impact is measured not in hours worked, but in time used with focus, purpose, and a willingness to embrace the discomfort required to do what is right, not just what is easy.

Narrator: Amaechi contends that one of the most dehumanizing aspects of modern corporate life is the tendency to see people as job descriptions rather than as unique individuals. This commoditization of talent stifles innovation and crushes morale. The promise of a giant, therefore, is to see and reflect the full potential of every person on their team. He tells a poignant story of a woman he was coaching, a partner at a major professional services firm. He noticed her accent changed between meetings, and when he gently inquired, she confessed. She was from Wolverhampton, but she suppressed her regional accent every day, believing that "Women from Wolverhampton don't make partner here."

This daily performance consumed a tremendous amount of her energy—energy that was stolen from her work, her team, and her own well-being. The organization’s narrow, dysfunctional definition of "fit" was forcing her to hide a piece of herself. Amaechi argues that this is the cost of non-inclusion. A true leader creates an environment of psychological safety where people can engage in "earned disclosure"—the choice to share parts of themselves because they trust they will be treated with dignity. This doesn't mean forcing intimacy, but rather creating a culture where people feel seen, heard, and valued for who they are, not just for the function they perform.

Narrator: Ultimately, all these promises culminate in the final and most important one: the promise to bear responsibility for driving the culture. Amaechi dismisses the notion that culture is a vague, smoke-like entity that is impossible to grasp. He offers a starkly clear definition: "Culture is defined by the worst behaviors tolerated." It is not shaped by mission statements on a wall, but by the accumulation of millions of individual choices made every day.

To illustrate this, he describes observing a small office courtyard over a week. It begins with one person flicking a cigarette butt on the ground. By the end of the week, the courtyard is filled with trash, because each person who saw the litter and did nothing made a choice to tolerate it. This inaction normalized the behavior, creating a culture of neglect. The same principle applies in organizations. When leaders tolerate gossip, reward brilliant but toxic individuals, or ignore microaggressions, they are actively defining the culture. Everyone, from the CEO to the newest hire, is a custodian of the culture. Taking responsibility means refusing to walk past the rubbish. It means making the conscious choice, every day, to act in a way that builds the environment you claim to want, creating a place of accountability, support, and joy that people never want to leave.

Narrator: The central, unifying message of The Promises of Giants is that leadership is not a position you hold, but a series of promises you keep. It is the daily, conscious choice to be self-aware, to act with integrity, to see the humanity in others, and to take ownership of the environment you help create. John Amaechi dismantles the myth of the passive bystander, arguing that in the ecosystem of a team or organization, every action—or inaction—has an impact.

The book leaves us with a profound challenge, one that extends far beyond the workplace. It forces you to ask: What is the worst behavior I tolerate in my own life—from my colleagues, my family, or even myself? Because according to Amaechi, that is the truest measure of the culture you are building, and only by refusing to accept it can you begin to fulfill the real promise of a giant.