For a while in college, a few of my buddies used to gather in my dorm room to watch reruns of Hogan’s Heroes before heading to dinner. Set in a Nazi POW camp during World War 2, the sitcom centered around a group of Allied prisoners who engaged in special ops using the camp (Stalag 13) as a base of operation. They were able to be successful because they continually outwitted the gullible commandant, Colonel Klink, and his blundering but lovable guard, Sergeant Schultz. Their activities included such things as blowing up munition depots, intercepting private communications, stealing secret papers, and generally doing whatever they could to hinder the German war effort. In other words, their specialty was sabotage.
I thought about that as I read this quote recently from Edwin Friedman’s book A Failure of Nerve: “A leader can never assume success because he or she has brought about a change. It is only after having first brought about a change and then subsequently endured the resultant sabotage that the leader can feel truly successful.” In other words, sabotage is a given in leadership. If you are going to lead any entity, you should prepare for and expect that, at some point, you will have to deal with sabotage.
But what makes the sabotage a leader deals with different from the sabotage associated with Hogan’s Heroes is that leadership sabotage comes from within. In the sitcom, the sabotage came from those on the opposing side—adversaries in the war effort. But in leadership, sabotage typically comes from folks on the inside—people you thought were on your team, supportive of your leadership, and committed to the changes you are trying to lead the organization to embrace and implement.
The reason why sabotage is so predictable is because of something called homeostatis—a little-known and somewhat obscure word that refers to the tendency of organizations to maintain equilibrium and stay the same. In many ways, leadership is about initiating and introducing change—letting go of what currently is in the interest of what could someday be. By necessity, leadership involves change … and change always alters the status quo. As a result, change inevitably involves disappointment and loss. For something new and fresh to emerge, something old has to pass away. Those who are emotionally invested in the current state of affairs, or who find it comfortable and/or enjoy it greatly, are forced to confront the reality of loss. While different people will deal with it in different ways, one of the common responses is sabotage—doing stuff to knock the leader off course and unconsciously support the status quo. It’s amazing how some of the very people who cheer you on and wax eloquent about the need for change will either turn on you or stay silent while you twist in the wind when you encounter some of the headwinds associated with implementing that change.
And what’s interesting is that, most times, the people who do this don’t see themselves as saboteurs. If you were to ask them, they’d characterize themselves as sympathetic and tender-hearted individuals who care deeply about the well-being of the organization. What they’re doing is, in their minds, courageous … or heroic … or noble, for they are doing what they’re doing in an attempt to protect and save the organization. But what they’re protecting is not the long-term health of the organization. What they’re protecting most often is the status quo—a reality they personally enjoy … or are emotionally invested in … or, in some way, benefit from. To prevent and ward off the potential loss associated with the proposed change, they engage in sabotage.
Sabotage is natural. It’s normal. It comes with the territory of leadership. And because it often stems from people you believed were in your corner and had your back, it’s exceptionally painful. The only way to avoid sabotage is to abdicate leadership—to become a peace-monger … a highly anxious risk avoider who’s more concerned with harmonious feelings than organizational progress … a person who prefers the serenity of the status quo as opposed to the turbulent chaos of change, even if such change is necessary … whose deep feelings of anxiety lead them to embrace tranquility over health and whose inner tension and discomfort compels them to placate and appease complainers just so they’ll be quiet. To avoid the hard thing and do what’s personally comfortable or makes you feel good as opposed to what’s in the best long-term interest of the organization is to sacrifice the moral authority to lead. But people do it all the time—particularly in the church where we’re supposed to be gentle, warm-hearted, loving, and kind. And the results are the same—feeble churches that are mired in the past, stuck by their current circumstances, and going nowhere.
I’ve experienced my share of sabotage over the years—from board members rescinding an action they’d voted to implement a few months earlier after some congregants complained … to a staff member who, when her job description was modified in a way she didn’t like, chose to resign and created a narrative about me lying that contributed to her departure and brought about the exodus of some sycophantic loyalists and residual congregational unrest … to some congregants stirring up discontent by gossiping or passing along emails that were intended to be private … to some key influencers creating alarm, triangling in, and soliciting the involvement of a former-pastor-now-denominational-superior with ambiguous and vague complaints such as “we don’t feel connected to him.” In each case, the sabotage was exceptionally painful because it came from people I had trusted and grown to appreciate as a result of being in the trenches of ministry together. But in each case, it wasn’t primarily about me—it was about the fact necessary change was being pursued that went against their preferences and threatened the stability of the organizational status quo. Despite the heartache and pain, I tried to remind myself they’d have likely reacted that way regardless of who the leader was. In many ways, their obstructive actions served as confirmation I was on the right path. But it also illustrated the point that many people, when faced with the choice between deep change and the neurotic stagnation that can lead to organizational death, will choose the latter.
When sabotage comes, it’s never fun. But I’m reminded that the One I value most was betrayed by one of his own who, some surmise, was trying to get Him to fulfill the expectations people of his day had for the Messiah. Jesus challenged the status quo with his notions of what a Messiah should be and do. Judas found that unacceptable because he was wed to a status quo understanding of messiahship. He wanted a Messiah who would kick out the Romans and set up a political kingdom—not one who’d establish a spiritual kingdom made up of people from every tribe, tongue, and nation by calling them to surrender their agenda and lay down their lives. Knowing Jesus understands and overcame the pain of sabotage helps me to hold firm and press on when I experience such. And—as was the case with Jesus—how we respond and handle ourselves at those times of sabotage is the acid test of our character and the measure of our substance as a leader.