In Times of Chaos, Be the Leader
The system is glitching.
Institutions are unraveling—quickly, visibly. Trusted foundations we once assumed were immovable now show signs of strain. Budgets are freezing. Layoffs are surfacing quietly. Political volatility is constant background noise. And cyberthreats—foreign, domestic, and AI-assisted—don’t pause for headlines.
Even inside supposedly stable organizations, the atmosphere is different. You can feel it in the quiet tension before meetings, in the cautious tone of group chats, in the echo of unasked questions. There’s a strange silence in the air, one that feels like waiting.
People are scanning for reassurance. Some look to Washington. Some to the boardroom. Some to department heads. Most scroll their way through uncertainty, flicking between doom and distraction. But wherever they look, what they often find is not leadership—it’s absence. Or worse, noise masquerading as direction. Noise that clings to old scripts. Noise that confuses motion with progress.
This is the quiet disintegration of culture—not a dramatic collapse, but a slow erosion.
Culture doesn’t die in a day. It wears down in increments. It begins when truth is softened for comfort, when fear edges out mission, when the signals people receive don’t match the reality they feel. When leadership goes silent, the collective story begins to fray.
And make no mistake: culture is a story. It’s not the perks. It’s not the posters. It’s the narrative people hold about who they are and why their work matters. When that story disappears, people don’t rebel—they retreat. They stop asking questions. They stop trying to make things better. They do what’s required. Nothing more.
That’s not apathy. That’s survival in a vacuum.
And yet, this moment—unnerving as it is—carries within it an invitation.
Leadership in times of chaos is not granted by position. It’s claimed through posture. When the path ahead is foggy, when the rules have shifted, people don’t need more process. They need someone—anyone—willing to go first.
Real leadership begins with saying what others are afraid to voice. It acknowledges the uncertainty. It validates the discomfort. And it points forward—not with guarantees, but with purpose.
This isn’t about grand speeches or strategy decks. The strongest leaders in crisis often say the least, but their presence changes the room. They create space for honesty. They model groundedness without pretending to have all the answers. They remind people that uncertainty doesn’t mean we stop showing up. It means we show up more deliberately.
You don’t need a title to do this. You don’t need a budget. You need a spine. Leadership is not a role. It’s a behavior.
And right now, it’s desperately needed.
This is especially true in cybersecurity, where resilience is too often framed as purely technical. But no system can be resilient if the people running it aren’t. Trust, cohesion, and shared mission aren’t soft skills—they’re critical infrastructure. And they are under siege.
This is a test—not of compliance, but of culture.
So ask yourself: What story is your team living right now? Is it one of confusion, quiet disengagement, and whispered exit plans? Or is it a story of determination, of shared mission, of standing firm in the fog?
Because someone will shape that story. And if it’s not you, it will be shaped by fear, by cynicism, or by indifference.
Don’t wait for normal to return. Don’t wait for the next All-Hands. Don’t wait for the script to be written. You are the script. You are the signal.
In calm times, leadership is a job. In chaotic times, it’s a calling.
You don’t have to solve everything. But you do have to stand up. Let people know the mission still matters. Let them know they still matter. Because when the ground shakes, people look not for perfection—but for presence.
This is your moment. You were made for it.
Hold the line.
Because when culture falters, clarity is the fix. And when the system fails, leaders rise.
See my other articles on culture: