Broadly speaking, there are two kinds of leaders. There are the ones that stir you up and make you want to do epic things. And then there are the ones that are more grounded, leading quietly, helping you deal with the obstacles in your way. Given a choice, who would you rather follow?

It is very tempting, and perhaps natural, for you to want to follow the former. After all, the first kind of leaders appeal to our emotions. They talk of big dreams and worthwhile revolutions. They make us forget the humdrum of our daily existence. These are the kinds of the leaders that author and history professor John Lewis Gaddis calls "hedgehogs" in his book On Grand Strategy. He uses the distinction first invented by Greek philosopher Archilocus and later popularized by Isiah Berlin - "The Fox vs. the Hedgehog".

In Berlin's discussion, a fox is someone who takes into her view many things - potentially contradicting details - and strives to adapt her approach to all of them. A hedgehog is someone who keeps one big thing in her view and inspires people toward it. She doesn't waste energy on things that can go wrong, the obstacles in her way. She knows it can be distracting to her followers, but in ignoring contradictions and hurdles, she can lead people into disasters. A fox, on the other hand, prepares you well for everything you might encounter. She is adept at taking action only to the extent of her capabilities. What she lacks is aspirational ideas she can energize her followers on. She can be frustrating and demoralizing to follow. She can drown you in details so much so that you may not even stir into action.

In his book "On Grand Strategy", Gaddis reviews leadership styles of various historical figures along that distinction. In the age of technology and data, he draws on Humanities to provide valuable lessons.

Persian ruler Xerxes, for instance, was a hedgehog. He stirred his countrymen into an extraordinary invasion of the Greek peninsula, only to have his hedgehog-like nature result in impossible situations that he couldn't overcome. They lost the battle to the Greeks and had to slink back home.

Roman emperor Octavian, on the other hand, was a fox. "He saw the difference, even then, between inheriting a title and mastering the art of command," Gaddis says in the book, "The first can happen overnight. The second can take a lifetime."

As a boy, Octavian was tutored on beekeeping, cattle breeding, crop rotation, and vine cultivation. He learned how to keep his feet on the ground. When he became the emperor, he came to rely on his sharp interpersonal and self-awareness skills to gain the loyalty of Caesar's armies. With no military experience, a sickly constitution, and in opposition to the famous commander Mark Antony, he maneuvered with diplomacy. He saw constraints while seeking successes, and on those few occasions when he did lose sight of them, he quickly self-corrected. He was a natural "strategist".

[Octavian] used time as an ally. He didn't abolish anything. He used time to grow things.

The virgin queen Elizabeth I was another fox. She frequently vacillated between choices, she changed her mind a lot, she readily submitted to expertise, and she allowed contradictions to thrive in her realm. All of these may seem like weaknesses in a leader, but they were key to Elizabeth's strategy. She was in no haste to make decisions or pick sides. She embodied F. Scott Fitzgerald's quality for a first-rate intelligence: the ability to hold two opposed ideas in the mind at the same time, and still retain the ability to function.

Philip II, her counterpart in Spain, was a true hedgehog. He saw God's hand in what he did. That made his interests and God's interests inseparable. He saw everything in polarizing dichotomies - clearly wrong or clearly right. He didn't delegate well, and was arguably not as successful as his English counterpart in ruling his vast empire.

Another leader that Gaddis profiles in the book is Abraham Lincoln. Lincoln was a fox with a strong vision. He famously said that he needed a compass for pointing to true north, but a compass gave him no advice about the swamps that he would encounter along the way. "If in pursuit of your destination, you plunge ahead, heedless of obstacles, and achieve nothing more than to sink in a swamp... What's the use of knowing True North?" he asked. He was an expert political animal, who kept his aspirations in the horizon, but didn't shy away from maneuvering and negotiating and compromising along the way.

"On Grand Strategy" talks about many such historical foxes and hedgehogs.

At my company, we emphasize both fox-like and hedgehog-like qualities in what we look for and groom in our leaders. We want our leaders to create clarity while generating energy. Part of creating clarity is to synthesize the complex. To survey multiple potentially contradictory ideas while defining a course of action. These are very fox-like things to do. Generating energy on the other hand is about inspiring optimism and making people feel great about the future. These are very hedgehog-like things to do.

We see a lot of hedgehogs with limited fox-like skills among our populist politicians today. People that talk big but have few plans to achieve their big ends. They offer limited details on how the capabilities at their disposal can match aspirations. These are the kinds of leaders Gaddis warns against in his book. As a leader, Gaddis seems to say, you need to be both a fox and a hedgehog. It is important for a leader to aspire to worthy ends, but it is equally important for him to match his means to his ends.

"On Grand Strategy" was overall an enlightening, if a plodding and difficult read. I highly recommend it, especially if you are looking for an insightful book to give you company in your social distancing.