Bismillah ar-Rahman ar-Rahim,

Thank you for including me in this Summit, and for welcoming me to your beautiful country. It is impossible to be in India and not come away inspired.

Every time I visit, I see a nation that refuses to stand still – climbing global rankings, lifting hundreds of millions out of poverty, and producing talent the world competes to attract.

But it’s not just India’s economic momentum that sets it apart. It is the unique perspective it brings.

Your country’s ascent hasn’t been the product of luck or privilege; it has been hard-won. Through innovation, adaptability, and resilience under pressure, your nation has earned its status as a global rising power.

That journey, here in the Global South, gives India something the world needs right now: a growth mindset that is shaped as much by lived experience as by ambition.

Speaking to leaders across sectors and regions these days, I’ve been struck by a prevailing mood of anticipation, paired with unease.

Perhaps you have sensed it too. After all, it’s hard to look ahead right now without feeling at least a flicker of alarm – not because the future looks bleak, but because it looks unfamiliar.

I don’t need to tell you that AI is reshaping our world at a pace that institutions, legislation, and even human judgment cannot match.

But AI’s dizzying trajectory is just the latest jolt in an era already defined by disorder and disruption.

On the one hand, global interconnectivity is unavoidable. Information, technology, and capital flows are always on the move. Conflicts, trade wars, and climate disasters transcend borders, whether we want them to or not.

And yet, politics is moving in the opposite direction. Countries are turning inward. Trade and migration policies are narrowing. Supply chains are breaking, and being brought closer to home.

So, we live in a world that is global in practice, but increasingly local in its politics. Business is caught in the middle. That tension adds not just complexity, but volatility.

In boardrooms and government halls, people feel the ground shifting beneath them. Yet much of our world keeps racing ahead as if nothing has changed. As if speed itself is the goal.

How often do we stop to ask: what are we racing towards? Are we still leading, or have we been overtaken by momentum?

These aren’t abstract questions; they are strategic. Because when systems run at global scale and digital speed, small errors can ripple across communities, markets, and regions in an instant.

The solution is not to stand still. But, in this environment, there’s a real danger of confusing all motion with advancement – no matter who or what might be harmed along the way.

So, the question for leaders today isn’t, “how do we slow progress?” It is, “how do we guide it?”

As a child growing up in Kuwait, I attended a British school that was wonderful but incredibly strict. Teachers were revered; their instructions followed, never questioned.

That’s why I still remember when one student – during a review of a test – suggested that most of us missed an answer because the teacher’s question was unclear.

The entire class held its breath, expecting a sharp rebuke from our teacher. But we were surprised when he paused and said, “Yes, you are right. My mistake.”

In an instant, the chemistry in the classroom shifted. In an instant, he won our trust. From that point on, his became the classroom where students felt most encouraged to achieve their best and unleash their creativity.

So, to the question, how do we guide progress? I say: with humility.

Humility allows us to embrace fallibility. It forces us to test our assumptions. And it reminds us that having authority is not the same as having answers.

I know – at a time when absolute views speak louder than nuanced ones ever could, “humility” can sound like surrender.

It’s true, humility is a quiet virtue. It doesn’t announce itself. But I see it as a core leadership value in today’s world. Not as hesitation or self-doubt, but as honesty about our limitations.

To understand humility, consider its inverse: Overconfidence. Arrogance. An inflated sense of one’s abilities. And the failure to reflect, regroup, and accept our shortcomings.

Whereas humility encourages thoughtfulness…. A willingness to sit with complexity… And the discipline to pause and ask one of the simplest and hardest questions: What if we are wrong?

In a culture that celebrates certainty and speed, that question can feel uncomfortable. But doubt is a survival skill. It reminds us to seek out alternative solutions, consider every angle, and stay open to other opinions.

Of course, there are still some willing to ask the tough questions. But not enough. What is trending now is a constant pressure not to get it right, but to be first.

We see it in companies rushing to deploy AI without considering the potential impact. In institutions that filter out opposing or cautionary perspectives. And in political systems that elevate popularity over principles.

It makes sense. Markets, elections, and technologies all pull leaders toward the immediate. Humility resists that pull.

For years, I served with Narayana Murthy on the United Nations Foundation board. Murthy helped build Infosys at a time when India’s tech sector was under intense pressure to grow fast.

But he chose a slower path. He insisted on global accounting standards before they were common in India.

These were not easy choices; they meant higher costs, slower expansion, fewer shortcuts. But over time, that discipline really paid off. Today, Infosys is ranked amongst the top three most valuable IT services brands – not just here in India but worldwide.

That is the power of a humility mindset: it restores our sense of time. It puts progress before a quick payout. It helps leaders slow down long enough to look past the next quarter, or the next election, and think about the foundation they are laying for the future.

Around 60 years ago, Toyota’s global reputation was being challenged: small defects were being mass produced across their production line.

Their solution? Install pull-cords above every workstation, and give workers the power to stop the entire production if they spotted an issue.

Any worker, regardless of position, was encouraged to pull the cord and have a say.

At first, production slowed. Managers worried the system would be misused. But it wasn’t.

Quality improved… and so did the culture. The message was unmistakable: everyone had a voice, irrespective of rank, with zero room for ego or status.

Since then, Toyota has replaced cords with digital buttons - and the idea proved so powerful it has become a defining feature of modern manufacturing. Aviation, healthcare, and tech companies have followed suit, empowering every member to “pull the cord.”      

That is humility at work: quietly building systems that listen. And when leaders lead that way, they build something else as well.

They build ecosystems that attract and nurture talent, and they make room for others to lead.

I believe it was Indra Nooyi who said that the job of a leader is to hire people who are smarter than themselves – and then get out of their way.

India has long shown the strength of humility in action.

Across centuries, Indian wisdom has emphasized how much remains unknown, even as we learn. This is not a culture that equates arrogance with strength.

In my faith too, humility is fundamental. Islam’s holy book, the Quran, tells us not to arrogantly roam the Earth, for we will “neither crack the ground nor reach the mountains in height.”

And in a moment of global uncertainty, reaffirming that wisdom is not only comforting. It is practical.

Because when you accept that you don’t know everything, you build differently. You design systems that can scale without breaking, and reach people who would otherwise be left out.

We see this in practice here, and across the Global South: In healthcare, where technology is being used not to replace doctors, but to improve access. In agriculture, where digital tools help small farmers manage risk with just a phone.

This approach is not about who gets there first, but how many can get there together. It is about choosing what is responsible over what is merely possible.

And it is one that is familiar to us in Jordan.

My country does not dominate headlines – and in our part of the world, that can sometimes be a blessing. We sit at the intersection of multiple crises in our region. And we have endured not by taking stability for granted, but by adapting to uncertainty. Through it all, we have held firm to human dignity – even when the cost was high and the credit low.

That is the Jordan I am proud to call home. A reliable, honest partner in a complicated world. We may be a small country, but what defines us is what we stand for. And that is why, in my eyes, Jordan stands very tall.

What our experiences show – both India’s and Jordan’s – is that humility is not just a posture. It is a way of operating. It keeps resilience and human dignity at the center of progress and prevents them from becoming tradeoffs.

And in a world defined by shared risk, this approach has become a global asset.

Too often, global conversations are shaped by the loudest or most powerful voices. Yet many of the consequences of those decisions will be felt most strongly by those who can least afford the fallout – here, in the Global South.

We need all our voices. All our perspectives. Not just in business and technology, but in the way we pursue our destiny as fellow human beings. Because when the regions that bear the highest risk are excluded, mistakes go unchallenged. Failures scale.

When the Global South speaks with clarity, it grounds global conversations in lived realities. In struggle, resilience, and the determination to rise without forgetting where we started.

Allow me to end simply.

Humility is not idealism. It is a practical response to the world as it is. It does not mean saying no to progress, but rather preventing progress from outrunning responsibility. It does not reject ambition or innovation. But it keeps us honest about their consequences.

I do not claim to have all the answers. None of us do. But if we can be honest about that – and spend a little more time listening and learning – we will have a much better chance of finding the answers that work better, for everyone.

That may not sound particularly grand. But in a world this complex, it might be exactly what we need.

Thank you.