This isn’t a post about politics.
It’s a post about leadership decisions — specifically, what happens when leaders avoid necessary conversations because they feel uncomfortable, risky, or divisive.
In the current climate, politics can be the backdrop. But politics isn’t the point. The point is this: when leaders choose silence to preserve harmony, they may unknowingly place the mission at risk.
I was recently speaking with a team that supports hundreds of children and families through federally funded programs. Dedicated people. Mission-driven work. And yet, the team felt stuck. Funding was uncertain. The future was unclear. Decisions needed to be made — but conversations weren’t happening.
Why? Fear.
Fear of saying the wrong thing. Fear of offending someone. Fear that acknowledging the reality of federal decisions might feel like blame, especially because the team included people with different political beliefs.
So they did what many well-intentioned teams do: they talked too little about the very things that mattered most.
Here’s the hard truth: silence is not neutral.
Let us remember that culture isn’t just words we use to describe it through our mission and vision statements, it’s also what we allow to happen — unchallenged.
Silence shapes culture. Silence creates assumptions. Silence leaves people filling in gaps with stories — often untrue ones.
And in leadership, silence is still a choice.
What this team needed wasn’t a debate about federal policy. It wasn’t a referendum on anyone’s values. It was a conversation about purpose, their purpose for their agency. It was about contingency planning, about how to serve people well no matter what happened next.
Avoiding those conversations didn’t make the team safer — it made them smaller. Less resilient. Less effective.
Leadership isn’t about forcing agreement or judging one’s personal decisions. It’s about creating enough clarity that people can move forward together, even when they disagree. That requires naming the elephant in the room without making it personal.
Sometimes that sounds like this:
“I know this is uncomfortable. I know there are differences in this room. I’ve heard those fears expressed privately. And I want to be clear — this isn’t about blame or judgement on who voted for whom. It’s about responsibility.
“If we get handed this dramatic cut to our budget, we have to figure out how to respond regardless of our opinions. Our mission matters too much to avoid the conversation about how we handle this well. Without judgement or finger-pointing.”
I have close friends — people I deeply love and respect — who see the world very differently than I do, politically. And yet, there’s nothing we wouldn’t do for each other. Except vote for each other’s candidate. So I guess I would do anything for love, but I won’t do that. And that’s okay.
That kind of leadership acknowledges reality without weaponizing it. It separates people from positions. It invites collaboration instead of retreat. And more importantly, it focuses people on the problem, not the emotions.
If we can hold that kind of respect in friendship, we can hold it in organizations that exist to serve others.
The real work of leadership isn’t choosing comfort. It’s choosing clarity. It’s recognizing when avoiding a conversation feels kind in the short term but becomes harmful over time.
Because what’s ultimately at stake isn’t ideology.
It’s trust.
It’s effectiveness.
It’s the people and communities who depend on the work getting done.
Leadership doesn’t require having all the answers. But it does require the courage to choose the conversation — especially when the mission depends on it.
Photo by Felix Mittermeier on Unsplash
