A CEO once told me, proudly, “I don’t hold back. If someone’s work is sloppy, I say it — in the room, in front of everyone.”
I asked him a simple question: “And how many of your best people have you lost this year?”
He paused. Then admitted — more than he’d like to count.
Here’s the pattern few leaders notice: every time you criticise someone — especially publicly — you’re not correcting them. You’re quietly teaching the room something else entirely: that it’s now acceptable to think against you, speak against you, or eventually, act against you.
Respect doesn’t argue back in the moment. It simply erodes, one criticism at a time, until the day it’s gone and you’re wondering why your best people stopped bringing you their best thinking.
The finest boards I’ve sat with over 40 years don’t run on fault-finding. They run on something quieter and far more powerful — leaders who correct without ever making anyone smaller in the room.
Criticism feels like control. It’s actually a slow resignation letter, written by you, on someone else’s behalf.
The leaders who last never criticise. They correct — with the other person’s dignity fully intact.
