How do you deal with doubt while everyone applauds loudly and no one asks critical questions? Increasingly I see leaders who are suffering. Not because of their team, not because of their strategy, but because of their own inner struggle about the choices they make. Why is that? And why is it so hard to change? Pattern When I look around, I keep seeing the same pattern. Why is it so difficult to actually realise the change so many people long for? I encounter this regularly in my coaching. And that’s without even mentioning the world news that hits us every day: world leaders who do not tolerate dissent, who suppress opponents or people with different views, or who remove people from their positions when they raise critical voices. Trust In conversations I often hear a lack of trust to engage in conflict. There is frequently fear of the consequences, or a lack of confidence in a positive outcome. In addition, there is a group of people who have no desire at all to break the status quo. Power, money and status often play a role. Ego — or is it fear? Fear Fear is rarely visible, but it drives decisions more often than leaders admit. From an evolutionary perspective fear has valuable meaning because it helps us survive in dangerous situations. It puts us into an elevated state of alert. Fear, however, also causes us to switch from long‑term thinking to short‑term thinking. After all, a solution must be found now to eliminate the danger. Risks It is precisely that short‑term thinking that creates risks. Micro‑management, keeping talented people small or holding them back, withholding information or maintaining and promoting ‘yes‑men’ because people who are critical are seen as a risk. Fear also creates uncertainty. This often reinforces the sense of insecurity, which again necessitates short‑term thinking. Dilemma And with that the circle seems complete and fear continues to rule. After all, we all crave acknowledgement and nobody likes to be rejected. What if someone doubts your loyalty or competence? Especially when that is also tied to whether you keep your position. A devilish dilemma that our ego is all too ready to exploit. But what would happen if, as a leader, you gave your most talented people the space and saw critical questions as an opportunity to learn? There is a good chance the ‘yes‑men’ won’t like it — after all, they never dared to do this. Something a leader must also take into account. Space Imagine status or power played no role. That leaders set their ego aside and ‘yes‑men’ no longer nod along. That they see critical voices and opposition as opportunities — as fuel for growth. Then a psychologically safe environment could arise for creativity, growth, dialogue and — where necessary —conflict, without fear of negative consequences. Perhaps that is the leadership organizations — and the world — are most longing for right now. Long‑term thinking, then. Maybe, just maybe, new leadership will emerge that so many people are desperately searching for.

To trust someone is not a given We are probably all familiar with this. Sometimes out of conviction, sometimes out of habit. But trust doesn’t work on command. Building trust takes time. And when trust is broken again and again, how likely are we to dare to trust again? Foundation When trust is damaged, something happens to people. They withdraw. They become cautious. We see it in organizations, and increasingly in society — often because of a lack of political leadership. The growing discontent in the Netherlands reveals what we already knew: trust is not a side issue. It’s the foundation. And when that foundation is missing, something else takes its place: distrust, distance, and eventually disengagement. Paradox In my training sessions, I often use Lencioni’s model — a pyramid that starts with trust. Only when trust is present do people dare to have real conversations, even about difficult topics.That’s when genuine commitment begins to grow. Among political leaders, we see something different. A lack of trust leads to conflict, and others often pay the price. Commitment is replaced by denial, and when things go wrong, responsibility is shifted elsewhere — the opposite of what we expect from good leadership. Opportunity What can we learn from this? In my view, when trust is missing, noise arises. And if that noise isn’t addressed, distance grows. As that distance widens, commitment fades, and connection disappears. That seems to be exactly what has been happening more and more in recent years. Parallel There’s another similarity. Politics is short‑term by nature — time is limited. Bold decisions that are good in the long run can be painful in the short term and may cost votes. Politicians don’t like that; the next election is never far away. I see the same pattern in organizations. Important long‑term decisions are postponed or avoided — not because people don’t want to decide, but because difficult conversations require courage and integrity. When decisions are delayed, uncertainty grows. And uncertainty erodes trust. Courage Courage doesn’t start with big words, but with a quiet choice. Do I trust myself, even when things get difficult? Do I stand for what I believe in — for what feels right or is necessary for the organization — unconditionally, regardless of how others respond? And do I accept the consequences of those choices? That’s where leadership begins — in politics, in organizations, and within ourselves. I try my best, but I won’t deny that it’s sometimes hard to make unconditional choices with full trust. And you? Where do you notice trust beginning to waver — in your work or in your life? And when it does, do you dare to talk about it — with others, or with yourself?

For many men, showing emotions after loss or grief doesn’t come naturally. I wonder why this is. Is it macho behaviour, shame, fear of losing control, or maybe fear of feeling vulnerable? Playing Hide and Seek
 What I notice, for example, is the wearing of large sunglasses at funerals. If you pay attention, you will see men (and women too) at every funeral wearing big sunglasses. The emotions are there, but it looks we find it difficult to show them in public. The question then is: who is fooling whom? Ego
 Many men still struggle to balance reason and emotion. The mind often says it is important to be successful, while the feelings say it is time to do things differently. In my work, I also often see that men find it difficult to admit they are touched by their emotions. What I notice in conversations is something strange happens. We start to rationalise. By rationalising, we step away from our feelings and let our head take over. Asking questions like ‘what could I have done differently?’ or ‘why is this happening to me?’ we search for rational answers. This approach often helps us find answers, but our feelings are not allowed to come along. And that is a pity, because the feelings were there and could have helped if we had allowed them in. In that respect, there is much to gain, and we can learn a lot from most women. Shame
 And why is it that we are allowed to show our emotions when we are happy or proud? Apparently, positive emotions are easily accepted. Could it be that it is not so much shame or fear of losing control, but vulnerability? If shame or control were the reasons, then you would expect men not to cheer loudly at a great sporting achievement or celebrate extensively when winning a very profitable contract. So, in our European culture, there seems to be a connection between the type of emotion and whether you are allowed to show it or not. Vulnerability
 Of course, it is sometimes difficult to be vulnerable and show your emotions — at work, in public, and even at home. For this, it is important to feel a certain level of safety. Fortunately, it is possible to create this safety. Not by changing other people, but by being open to your feelings the next time they arise and accept and embrace them rather then push them away.

Summer is over, back to work You'll still recognise that fluttery feeling from years ago. It turns out it's not just reserved for love. That feeling of first summer love, somewhere on a campsite or a beach, when your stomach does a little flip the moment you spot them again. Innocent, light, and above all: wonderful to be in. But holiday butterflies have another side to them. Summer break Finally away from the rush of everyday life. No meetings, no calls, no deadlines, and for once no phone constantly demanding your attention. For the first time in months, nothing you have to do. And it's precisely in that quiet that a different kind of flutter surfaces: a nagging feeling about your work, one you'd successfully pushed down all year. One simple question: "do I actually still enjoy this?" Headspace IIn the rush of daily life, there's simply no moment to stop and sit with a feeling like that. You run from meeting to deadline, and the feeling never gets any space because your diary keeps pulling you forward. And now you're on holiday, and suddenly that space is there. No wonder that it's precisely then that the question surfaces of whether you shouldn't be doing something else. Doubt Your head says stay. It pays well, you know what you've got, nobody has anything to fault you for. But your gut says something else. That feels illogical, doesn't it? Why would you doubt something that, rationally speaking, checks out? And yet that's exactly what holiday butterflies do: they bring up something that appears to have no factual grounding whatsoever. And still, that feeling won't let go. Silence The difficult part is that this doubt is rarely spoken out loud. Not to a manager, not to a partner or a close friend, often not even to yourself. You've been putting off that conversation with yourself for months, maybe longer. Until your holiday finally gives you the space to sit with it. And then what? Discovery Most people who recognise this don't want to make a rash move. Not resign on impulse after a few weeks of rest. What you do want is to know what's actually right and what isn't — before making a decision you might later regret. Taking the time to work out whether the issue lies in the role, in the organisation, or somewhere deeper. Support You don't have to do that alone. Sometimes it's enough to talk it through with someone who has no stake in whichever answer you land on — simply to get clarity on what those butterflies are actually trying to tell you. Holiday butterflies usually pass. The only question is whether the answer behind them does too. Perhaps this is just the nudge you need to listen to how you feel, and to properly close out this holiday.

What to learn from an employee who does everything right, and then resigns? Sound familiar? Just back from holiday, and then that resignation you didn't see coming. It happens again every year, somewhere towards the end of August or the start of September. An employee returns from holiday and lets you know they've found another job. For the employee themselves, it's rarely a surprise. That doubt had been there for a long time. There simply hadn't been any room to talk about it. A while ago, a friend told me about someone he knew. An IT professional, driven and genuinely good at his job. He came back from his summer holiday with a clear message: he was leaving. No conflict, no incident, no burnout. Just the calm, fact-based conclusion that he'd been doing the same work for far too long, and that there had never been a moment to talk about anything other than the projects he did. Recognition This story isn't unique. I hear it more and more, particularly in roles where people are strong performers and, for that very reason, keep getting assigned to what they already do well. The work gets done, the results are good, so why would you change anything? It's a question almost nobody asks out loud. Until someone, on holiday, decides to answer it for themselves. Stalled What happened to this IT professional wasn't neglect in the classic sense. Nobody treated him badly. He did his job well, received good appraisals and the occasional pay rise. Predictable, manageable, low-risk. For the organisation, that was efficient. For him, it slowly became an invisible kind of stagnation — the sort you only notice once you've properly stepped away. Comfortable After a resignation like this, I hear the same explanations time and again. The job market is tight. Headhunters are working overtime, and good IT people get poached wherever they go. It was only a matter of time. All true, perhaps. But also all explanations that conveniently steer attention away from a more uncomfortable question: when did anyone last talk to him about what he still wanted to learn, rather than about the quality of his work? Attention Development and coaching are still too often seen as something for when things aren't going well, or as a reward for those performing above their level. Yet it's precisely that kind of attention — genuine interest in where someone wants to go, not just in what they deliver — that makes it possible to raise "the same work again" before someone reaches a decision about it alone, on holiday. Mirror The question on the table is usually: how do I prevent people leaving after the summer. That question comes too late, once the resignation is already on the table. So ask yourself instead: when did you last have a genuine conversation with someone on your team about where they want to be in five years, and what support they'd need to get there — inside or outside their current role? Not the annual review, focused on how satisfied you are or where there's room for improvement. A conversation without an agenda. Purely out of curiosity. If you can't answer that straight away, you probably already know enough.

Trust doesn’t always come naturally. We all know someone who says this. Sometimes out of conviction, sometimes out of habit. But trust doesn’t work on command. Building trust takes time. And when trust is broken again and again, how likely are we to dare to trust again? Foundation When trust is damaged, something happens to people. They withdraw. They become cautious. We see it in organizations, and increasingly in society — often because of a lack of political leadership. The growing discontent in the Netherlands reveals what we already knew: trust is not a side issue. It’s the foundation. And when that foundation is missing, something else takes its place: distrust, distance, and eventually disengagement. Paradox In my training sessions, I often use Lencioni’s model — a pyramid that starts with trust. Only when trust is present do people dare to have real conversations, even about difficult topics.That’s when genuine commitment begins to grow. Among political leaders, we see something different. A lack of trust leads to conflict, and others often pay the price. Commitment is replaced by denial, and when things go wrong, responsibility is shifted elsewhere — the opposite of what we expect from good leadership. Opportunity What can we learn from this? In my view, when trust is missing, noise arises. And if that noise isn’t addressed, distance grows. As that distance widens, commitment fades, and connection disappears. That seems to be exactly what has been happening more and more in recent years. Parallel There’s another similarity. Politics is short‑term by nature — time is limited. Bold decisions that are good in the long run can be painful in the short term and may cost votes. Politicians don’t like that; the next election is never far away. I see the same pattern in organizations. Important long‑term decisions are postponed or avoided — not because people don’t want to decide, but because difficult conversations require courage and integrity. When decisions are delayed, uncertainty grows. And uncertainty erodes trust. Courage Courage doesn’t start with big words, but with a quiet choice. Do I trust myself, even when things get difficult? Do I stand for what I believe in — for what feels right or is necessary for the organization — unconditionally, regardless of how others respond? And do I accept the consequences of those choices? That’s where leadership begins — in politics, in organizations, and within ourselves. I try my best, but I won’t deny that it’s sometimes hard to make unconditional choices with full trust. And you? Where do you notice trust beginning to waver — in your work or in your life? And when it does, do you dare to talk about it — with others, or with yourself?

Stories of organisational failings are appearing more often in the media. Transgressive behaviour — sexual or otherwise — creates fear and insecurity at work. What stands out is the tendency to attribute these cases to a few bad actors. But is that the full story, or are we confronting a systemic failure? Dependence The cases I have seen share a clear pattern: a degree of dependency between the person experiencing the behaviour and the person exhibiting it. I avoid labels such as “victim” and “perpetrator” because they can be stigmatising and obscure possible organisational drivers. Unwanted behaviour is never excusable. Yet there may be more at play. Safety Organisations invest in policies and reporting routes to create safe workplaces. Still, much behaviour goes unreported. Despite greater attention to workplace safety, organisations often fail to deliver the level of safety that matters in practice. Why? Hierarchy The answer starts with power. Providing formal safety is not the same as actually making people feel safe. Managers and leaders frequently underestimate how power imbalances deter reporting. Raising a concern can make someone feel vulnerable, ostracised or at risk of losing their job or income. Faced with those stakes, many choose silence. The risk that boundary-crossing behaviour will be tolerated is therefore ever-present. A different approach So why do organisations claim, after each scandal, that they would do things differently “with the knowledge we have now”? Hierarchies are not new and neither is the risk of abuse. Nor will everyone necessarily have the resilience to speak up. Look deeper What if we dared to ask different questions: what drives the conduct? Could it be less about ambition or ego and more about powerlessness, fear of failure, scarcity or a need to be seen because people lack emotional tools to cope? That is work we can start today. We do not need new knowledge — we already know this. What we often lack is the courage to act. From my experience, asking the right questions with the right intent can unlock powerful insights even in a first conversation.

How do you deal with doubt while everyone applauds loudly and no one asks critical questions? Increasingly I see leaders who are suffering. Not because of their team, not because of their strategy, but because of their own inner struggle about the choices they make. Why is that? And why is it so hard to change? Pattern When I look around, I keep seeing the same pattern. Why is it so difficult to actually realise the change so many people long for? I encounter this regularly in my coaching. And that’s without even mentioning the world news that hits us every day: world leaders who do not tolerate dissent, who suppress opponents or people with different views, or who remove people from their positions when they raise critical voices. Trust In conversations I often hear a lack of trust to engage in conflict. There is frequently fear of the consequences, or a lack of confidence in a positive outcome. In addition, there is a group of people who have no desire at all to break the status quo. Power, money and status often play a role. Ego — or is it fear? Fear Fear is rarely visible, but it drives decisions more often than leaders admit. From an evolutionary perspective fear has valuable meaning because it helps us survive in dangerous situations. It puts us into an elevated state of alert. Fear, however, also causes us to switch from long‑term thinking to short‑term thinking. After all, a solution must be found now to eliminate the danger. Risks It is precisely that short‑term thinking that creates risks. Micro‑management, keeping talented people small or holding them back, withholding information or maintaining and promoting ‘yes‑men’ because people who are critical are seen as a risk. Fear also creates uncertainty. This often reinforces the sense of insecurity, which again necessitates short‑term thinking. Dilemma And with that the circle seems complete and fear continues to rule. After all, we all crave acknowledgement and nobody likes to be rejected. What if someone doubts your loyalty or competence? Especially when that is also tied to whether you keep your position. A devilish dilemma that our ego is all too ready to exploit. But what would happen if, as a leader, you gave your most talented people the space and saw critical questions as an opportunity to learn? There is a good chance the ‘yes‑men’ won’t like it — after all, they never dared to do this. Something a leader must also take into account. Space Imagine status or power played no role. That leaders set their ego aside and ‘yes‑men’ no longer nod along. That they see critical voices and opposition as opportunities — as fuel for growth. Then a psychologically safe environment could arise for creativity, growth, dialogue and — where necessary —conflict, without fear of negative consequences. Perhaps that is the leadership organisations — and the world — are most longing for right now. Long‑term thinking, then. Maybe, just maybe, new leadership will emerge that so many people are desperately searching for.

Is it ok to show tears? I wonder why this is. Is it macho behaviour, shame, fear of losing control, or maybe fear of feeling vulnerable? Playing Hide and Seek 
 What I notice, for example, is the wearing of large sunglasses at funerals. If you pay attention, you will see men (and women too) at every funeral wearing big sunglasses. The emotions are there, but it looks we find it difficult to show them in public. The question then is: who is fooling whom? Ego 
 Many men still struggle to balance reason and emotion. The mind often says it is important to be successful, while the feelings say it is time to do things differently. In my work, I also often see that men find it difficult to admit they are touched by their emotions. What I notice in conversations is something strange happens. We start to rationalise. By rationalising, we step away from our feelings and let our head take over. Asking questions like ‘what could I have done differently?’ or ‘why is this happening to me?’ we search for rational answers. This approach often helps us find answers, but our feelings are not allowed to come along. And that is a pity, because the feelings were there and could have helped if we had allowed them in. In that respect, there is much to gain, and we can learn a lot from most women. Shame 
 And why is it that we are allowed to show our emotions when we are happy or proud? Apparently, positive emotions are easily accepted. Could it be that it is not so much shame or fear of losing control, but vulnerability? If shame or control were the reasons, then you would expect men not to cheer loudly at a great sporting achievement or celebrate extensively when winning a very profitable contract. So, in our European culture, there seems to be a connection between the type of emotion and whether you are allowed to show it or not. Vulnerability 
 Of course, it is sometimes difficult to be vulnerable and show your emotions — at work, in public, and even at home. For this, it is important to feel a certain level of safety. Fortunately, it is possible to create this safety. Not by changing other people, but by being open to your feelings the next time they arise and accept and embrace them rather then push them away.

Imagine working in an organisation where difficult conversations are consistently avoided. Unfortunately, this happens more often than we might think. Recently, I heard about an organisation where challenging discussions are systematically sidestepped. Underperforming employees are not coached on their behaviour; instead, they are left to their own devices, and when things really go wrong, they are transferred elsewhere. This gave birth to the title of this blog. Judgement My first reaction was, ‘How can management let this happen?’ I admit, I quickly formed a judgement myself. It was quite confronting to realise this as I began writing. After all, I’m expected to observe and listen without judgement. A Pattern Emerges Delving deeper, a clear pattern appeared. A manager displays inappropriate behaviour, and the organisation fails to respond adequately. Both employees and the manager suffer as a result. The consequences are predictable: high absenteeism, frequent turnover, motivation problems, and a poorly functioning department. And that’s not even considering the impact on the manager. It seems easier to request a transfer to make it someone else’s problem rather than giving the manager the opportunity to learn from their mistakes. Naming the Issue By ‘naming the issue’, I don’t mean simply relocating the manager to a new role or department. I mean addressing the behaviour itself and seeking the root cause — without judgement. Any form of judgement risks creating an unsafe environment for everyone involved. Employees hold back out of fear of repercussions. Managers hesitate to show vulnerability and ask for support. The organisation is left grappling with persistent problems. Everyone loses in this scenario. So, what makes it so difficult to have conversations about performance? I can only speculate. Leadership True leadership means initiating these conversations, creating a safe space, and treating everyone with respect — even when mistakes are made. After all, mistakes are essential for learning. In other words, we must talk about it. Only then can we uncover the underlying issues, respect everyone’s viewpoints, and investigate root causes. For clarity: this doesn’t mean agreeing with every opinion. I sincerely hope this organisation cultivates a culture where situations like these are not only recognised but openly discussed. Change begins with making things talkable. Perhaps the involved manager will finally have the space to reflect on their behaviour and its consequences — without being transferred for the fifth time. And how wonderful would it be if the team where this manager recently started could enjoy a leader who builds a trusting, high-performing environment where people are happy and openly share how rewarding it is to work together.