Of Choices and Consequence: The Inner Toll of Leadership
"If it is not right, do not do it; if it is not true, do not say it." — Marcus Aurelius, Meditations
At its core, leadership is about making decisions. Some have minimal impact; others carry weighty consequences. There are moments when I’m grateful that I’m not a military leader—where each choice could mean life or death for many. I hold deep respect for those who bear that responsibility.
While my own decisions aren’t life-threatening, they can still feel profoundly heavy. Choosing not to extend an employment contract. Initiating a Performance Improvement Plan. Saying “no” to a proposal that doesn’t align with our vision, even when I desperately want to support the person behind it.
There’s always a voice in the back of my mind: Do I have enough information? Should I consult someone else? Am I considering every consequence? Am I being too empathetic—or too businesslike? Where’s the middle ground between the two? Most importantly: Is this decision in line with our vision and virtues?
These questions can paralyze decision-making. But failing to decide is often worse. Leaders must act. A captain must sail—even through storms. That’s the burden and the beauty of leadership: making choices with incomplete information, knowing perfection is impossible.
And what if I get it wrong? Morale and culture could suffer. Still, I tell myself: If I make a mistake, I’ll own it. Publicly.
I often feel the pressure to please. I want my colleagues to feel seen, heard, and supported. So I wrestle with this: Is this decision truly virtuous—or just people-pleasing? Can it be both? I believe people ultimately respect leaders who do what’s right over what’s easy.
As my friend Dr. Michael Malek once told me, I crave harmony at work. I want our team to sound like a symphony, not clash like a battlefield. I still yearn for that harmony—but I now see myself more like a physician. Sometimes, bitter medicine is necessary to heal a deeper wound. Avoiding hard decisions won’t bring harmony. It brings delay—and ultimately, decay.
I’ve grown more comfortable making decisions without clinging to outcomes publicly accepting blame when a principled decision doesn’t yield the result I hoped for.