Every so often, leadership escapes the comfortable orbit of planning roadmaps and OKRs and enters a realm that feels almost ancient—where decisions aren’t just about performance, but about principle. I’m in that space now.
One of my engineers, a great contributor and a good human being, has been conscripted into military service in Ukraine. Overnight, his life shifted from writing code and building systems to something most of us can only imagine. And that reality forces me to wrestle with the same questions leaders have faced for centuries: How do you balance duty to an individual with duty to the collective? How do you lead when the context isn’t a market downturn but a war?
The Tension: Three Centers of Gravity
Leadership in these moments pulls me in three directions:
- The Engineer: A person with dignity, fears, hopes, and obligations far bigger than any OKR. Like millions before him—factory workers in WWII, tech specialists in Cold War intelligence—he didn’t choose this shift. It was chosen for him.
- The Team: Colleagues who care deeply but still need clarity and continuity. History shows what happens when teams are left in limbo: morale collapses faster than capacity. Transparency matters.
- The Company: An entity with stakeholders, commitments, and operational needs. During the world wars, businesses adapted through job protections and reintegration programs, not because it was easy, but because they understood resilience depends on trust.
This isn’t a zero-sum equation. It’s the same ethical calculus faced by leaders during conscription crises throughout history: hold the line on humanity while ensuring the system survives.
Anchor in Principles, Not Panic
When the unexpected hits, it’s tempting to react tactically—shuffle capacity, freeze hiring, cut ties “just in case.” But that’s how systems erode. History offers a warning here: in the early 20th century, some companies abandoned workers called to serve, prioritizing short-term output. Others, Ford for example- instituted job guarantees and reintegration policies. Guess which ones built enduring loyalty and reputational strength?
The lesson: ethics live in the why, not just the what.
My own principles:
- Humanity First
Before policies and metrics, remember: this person is stepping into an existential fight, not a sabbatical. Recognizing that—out loud—matters. - Clarity is Compassion
Ambiguity breeds anxiety. Whatever the decision—job protection, unpaid leave, temporary backfill—communicate it clearly and early, with no false promises. Lincoln did this in his conscription policies: hard truths, openly stated, earned more trust than half-measures. - Equity Across the Team
Supporting one person can’t feel like breaking trust with the rest. Fairness doesn’t mean sameness, but it does mean explaining the why. WWII-era factories managed this by being explicit: “This is why Joe’s job will be here when he comes back, and here’s how we’re covering in the meantime.” - Sustainability for the Company
Short-term heroics can burn out the remaining team. The British Home Front learned this in WWII: when rationing wasn’t paired with support systems, productivity collapsed. We can’t let that happen in our microcosm.
Practical Steps for Ethical Leadership in Crisis
Here’s my playbook, shaped by both history and necessity:
- Have the Hard Conversation Early
Speak directly with the engineer about what matters most: job protection, benefits, or something else. Avoid assumptions. - Document and Align with HR and Legal
War service isn’t in many HR handbooks. Build policy now. In WWII, many firms formalized guarantees for returning veterans. There’s a reason those companies thrived after the war—they treated people as future assets, not disposable resources. - Communicate with the Team Transparently
Acknowledge the reality, express support, and outline how the workload will be balanced without burning anyone out. - Plan for Both Absence and Return
Build systems and documentation now so that reintegration, if possible, is smooth and respectful. Post-WWII programs like the GI Bill worked because planning started early.
Why This Matters
Moments like this test whether our leadership values are real or just words on a slide deck. It’s easy to claim “people first” when the stakes are quarterly goals. It’s harder when the stakes involve war, livelihoods, and uncertainty.
If we get this right—not perfectly, but humanely—we echo the best leadership lessons of the past: systems thrive when they honor people. Because at the end of the day, what we build isn’t just technical—it’s cultural. And culture, like history, remembers how we lead when it matters most.
Takeaway
Leadership isn’t just about efficiency; it’s about ethics under pressure. And while I can’t predict the future, I can ensure one thing: when history looks back—even on this small moment in one company—it will show that we saw the human being behind the job title, and we acted accordingly.
