Leadership by Example: What Servant Leadership Means to Me

By Hugh Tychsen

I've been thinking a lot about leadership lately. Not the corporate bullshit version of leadership where somebody reads a book, learns ten new words for "teamwork," and then gives everybody a PowerPoint. I'm talking about what actually happens when you put yourself in the middle of a community made up of people who have been through some serious shit.

When people trust you, they tell you things they don't tell other people. They ask you for help. They ask for money. They need a place to sleep. They need a ride. They're in a crisis. They become your friend. Sometimes they become like family. And sometimes, without anybody really intending for it to happen, those relationships can become complicated. People can start confusing friendship with access, compassion with obligation, and leadership with personal responsibility for fixing every problem that comes through the door.

That's why I've been thinking a lot about two concepts that have become increasingly important to me: leadership by example and servant leadership. I don't want to be the guy sitting at the top telling everybody else what to do. I want to be the guy willing to get in the ditch with everybody else. That's what I respect. My fave officers in the Marines were willing to fill sandbags under mortar fire. To me, servant leadership means my job is to serve the people I'm responsible for, remove obstacles, develop other leaders, protect the mission, take care of people when they need help, and then get out of the way when somebody else is ready to lead.

Leadership by example means I can't just tell people what I believe. They should be able to watch what I do and figure it out. If I tell people to be transparent but get defensive when somebody questions me, I'm full of shit. If I tell people not to play favorites but give my friends special treatment, I'm full of shit. If I tell people to develop leaders but make sure every decision comes back to me, I'm not actually developing leaders. I'm just building a bunch of people who know how to wait for Hugh to tell them what to do.

I don't expect people to blindly trust me. "Just trust me" is what shitty leaders say when they don't want to explain themselves. If somebody asks where money went, I'll explain it. If somebody asks why somebody received an opportunity, I'll explain it. If somebody asks why I accepted a free hotel room, a free meal, or some other donated resource, I'll explain it. If somebody thinks I'm playing favorites, ask me. I don't need everyone to agree with every decision I make. I need people to know that I'm willing to stand behind the decision and explain it.

Transparency isn't an accusation. It's protection. It protects the organization, it protects the people we're trying to serve, and it protects the people doing the leading.

The Inner Circle

Let's talk about the inner circle bullshit, because this one comes up in almost every organization eventually.

Of course I have friends. Of course there are people I'm closer to. Some people I've known for years. Some people I genuinely love. Some people make me laugh my ass off. Some people and I just click. That's called being human. I'm not going to pretend I have the exact same relationship with every person I know.

But being my friend doesn't mean you get special access to me. It doesn't mean you get special treatment, organizational authority, financial benefits, or immunity from accountability. In fact, the closer somebody gets to me, the more careful I have to be.

I have to ask myself, "Am I giving this person something because they earned it, or because I like them?" That's a hard question, but it's one I think leaders have to be willing to ask. And I'd rather have the people around me call me out when I'm getting that wrong than quietly let me continue doing it.

Friendship is friendship. Leadership is leadership. Sometimes those things overlap, but they shouldn't become indistinguishable.

Using Resources Without Taking Advantage

Another area where I think people can misunderstand leadership is when leaders accept free or discounted resources. Sometimes I can get something for free or at a huge discount. A hotel room. A meal. Transportation. A campsite. Meeting space. Whatever.

Somebody might look at that and say, "Look at Hugh getting free shit."

Okay. Fair question.

But there's a big difference between using my position for personal benefit and using my position to save money that can then be used for the mission. If somebody says, "We'll give you four hotel rooms for free," I'm not going to say, "Oh no, that's unethical. Please charge me $800." Fuck that. If somebody is willing to donate something that would otherwise cost the organization hundreds or thousands of dollars, I'd be an idiot not to consider it.

But I also don't think, "I'm the boss, so I deserve it" is an acceptable answer. The question I have to ask is who actually benefits. If the answer is me personally, I need to take a hard look at it. If the answer is the mission and the people we're trying to serve, then I want to pursue that resource aggressively. And I want to be able to explain it.

That's the difference between using a position for personal benefit and using a position to stretch limited resources further.

Access Does Not Equal Entitlement

I've also learned that people can start confusing access with entitlement. Just because you've known me for ten years doesn't mean you own ten years of my time. Just because you're a leader doesn't mean you get to bypass everybody else. Just because you're my friend doesn't mean you get an exception. Just because you've done a lot for the organization doesn't mean you get to make the rules.

I want to be accessible. That's part of how I lead. I don't want to become some guy sitting behind a desk who nobody can reach. But there is a difference between being accessible and being owned.

Leadership means being available to people. It does not mean surrendering every boundary because somebody has decided they are entitled to your time, attention, resources, or friendship.

Compassion Doesn't Mean Always Saying Yes

Trauma makes this even more complicated. People come to us because they're hurting. Sometimes they're hurting bad. Sometimes somebody needs help with a meal, a ride, a place to sleep, a resource, or just somebody to sit there and listen. I believe we should help people when we can.

But here's something I've learned: compassion and boundaries can exist at the same time.

Sometimes the answer is no.

I can care about you and still say no. I can believe your story and still say no. I can understand your trauma and still say no. I can love you and still say no.

If somebody decides that my saying no means I don't care about them, that's something we need to work through. I can't run my life or lead an organization based on trying to prevent somebody from being disappointed in me. That's how leaders get manipulated, and that's how leaders burn the fuck out.

Saying no doesn't make me less compassionate. Sometimes saying no is the most responsible thing I can do.

I'm Not the Savior

There is another trap in peer support that I think leaders have to watch closely: the savior complex.

Someone is hurting. You help them. They feel better. You feel good because you made a difference. That's a great feeling. But then it happens again. And again. Pretty soon you're the guy everybody calls.

Someone needs a ride? Call Hugh.

Someone needs money? Call Hugh.

Someone is suicidal? Call Hugh.

Someone's relationship is fucked up? Call Hugh.

Someone is pissed off at somebody else? Apparently, also call Hugh.

That's not leadership. That's dependency.

My job isn't to save people. My job is to help people find their own strength, connect them with resources and community, remove obstacles, and help them become capable of moving forward without me.

I'll help you find the resource. I'll make the introduction. I'll sit beside you. I'll help you figure out the next step. But eventually, you have to walk.

That's servant leadership. I'm not building people who need me. I'm building people who don't.

That's one of the biggest differences between leadership and control.

Trauma Deserves Compassion, Not Automatic Authority

I've seen enough trauma to know that people's worst experiences can profoundly affect how they behave. Trauma can explain behavior, but it doesn't automatically excuse behavior.

Someone's suffering doesn't automatically make them a leader. It doesn't automatically make them right. It doesn't give them authority over other people. And it doesn't mean everyone around them has to walk on eggshells forever.

We should have enormous compassion for what people have survived without creating a hierarchy based on who has suffered the most. We're not handing out medals for having the worst story.

We're trying to get people better. We're trying to get people connected. We're trying to get people laughing again. We're trying to get people back into life.

That's the whole point.

People's Vulnerability Is Not Currency

There's another responsibility that comes with leadership that I take extremely seriously: information.

People tell leaders shit. Personal shit. Things about their marriages, their kids, their addictions, their mental health, their finances, their military experiences, their darkest moments.

That information gives you power.

And I don't want that kind of power.

If somebody tells me something because they trust me, that story belongs to them. It doesn't become ammunition for me to use six months later because I'm pissed off at them. It doesn't become gossip. It doesn't become leverage. It doesn't become organizational currency.

People's vulnerability is not currency.

If somebody trusts me with something vulnerable, I want them to know that I don't see their story as something I now own.

"I'm Only Telling You Because I Care"

Leadership also attracts information. People will come to you and say, "I'm only telling you because I care."

Maybe you are.

But sometimes that's just gossip wearing a necktie. And I know the difference because I can sense intent.

If somebody comes to me complaining about somebody else, one of the first things I'm going to ask is, "Have you talked to them?"

If you haven't, go talk to them.

We're adults. We can have uncomfortable conversations. We can disagree. We can be pissed off at each other and still talk directly to each other. Now, if you have a polite, respectful conversation with them and they refuse to hear you out, or treat you poorly, then it's ok to escalate it and ask for help, like a moderator.

I'm not interested in building a community where everybody talks about everybody except the person they're actually pissed at.

Have the difficult conversation. Respectfully. Directly. Like adults. I empower you.

Watch the Pattern, Not Just the Request

Most manipulation doesn't walk through the door wearing a sign that says, "Hello, I'm here to manipulate you."

It's usually small.

"Can you spot me twenty bucks?"

"Can I crash here for a couple nights?"

"Can you make an exception?"

"Can you just do this one thing?"

None of those things necessarily sounds crazy. The problem can develop when they keep happening. You say yes enough times and eventually the person starts expecting yes.

That's why leaders have to look at patterns instead of judging every individual request based solely on whether we like somebody.

Sometimes the question isn't, "Is this request reasonable?" Sometimes the question is, "What relationship am I creating if I keep saying yes?"

Sometimes saying no to a reasonable request is actually the healthiest thing I can do for both people.

I Have to Watch My Own Favorites

This one is uncomfortable because I'm human.

There are people I like more. There are people I trust more. There are people I naturally want to spend time with. There are people who have earned my respect. There are people I genuinely love.

That's normal.

But I have to ask myself whether I'm giving somebody something because they earned it or because they're one of my people.

And I expect the people around me to call me on that shit.

The leader doesn't get to be exempt from the leadership principles. Especially the leader.

If I'm going to tell everybody else to check their ego, then I better be willing to check mine.

Helping People Without Creating Debt

The same thing goes for favors.

If I help somebody, I don't want that help to become an invisible contract. "I helped you, therefore you owe me."

That's not servant leadership.

Likewise, if somebody helps me or helps the organization, that shouldn't buy them influence or special treatment.

The best version of this is simple. I help you today. Someday you're strong enough to help somebody else.

That's how the cycle continues.

Good deeds shouldn't become currency.

Leadership Isn't About What You Can Get Away With

Sometimes leadership gives you access to things other people don't have. Resources. Relationships. Information. Opportunities. The ability to make shit happen.

But leadership isn't about what you can get away with.

It's about what you can explain in daylight.

That's one of the standards I try to hold myself to. If I wouldn't want to explain a decision to the people I lead, I probably need to take another look at the decision.

The older I get, the more I believe that the best leadership decisions are the ones you don't have to hide.

Money Should Survive the Light

I don't believe "trust me" is a financial system.

If somebody asks where money went, show them.

If something looks weird, explain it.

If you made a mistake, own it.

If somebody questions you, don't automatically get defensive.

That applies to me too.

Transparency isn't about pretending we never make mistakes. We're human. It's about creating a culture where decisions, mistakes, benefits, expenses, and disagreements can survive daylight.

I'd rather explain something uncomfortable than hide behind my position.

I Don't Want to Be Indispensable

Here's probably the biggest thing I've learned about leadership.

If everything falls apart because Hugh isn't there, then I fucked up as a leader.

Being accessible is good. Being indispensable is not. There is a huge difference between the two.

One of the greatest compliments a leader can receive is, "We didn't need you. We handled it."

That's not a threat. That's the goal.

I want to build people who can lead. People who can make decisions. People who can solve problems. People who can have difficult conversations. People who can take care of each other. People who can look at me someday and say, "Don't worry about it. We've got this."

Good.

That's leadership.

Only a Veteran Can Heal a Veteran?

I believe deeply in veteran-to-veteran connection. There are things veterans understand about each other that are hard to explain to somebody who hasn't lived it. The language. The culture. The humor. The shit you don't have to explain.

Sometimes you can sit next to another veteran and understand exactly what the other guy is thinking without saying a word.

That's powerful.

But I don't believe veterans are the only people who can help veterans.

A spouse can help. A parent can help. A friend can help. A therapist can help. A chaplain can help. A civilian who has spent twenty years standing beside veterans can help. Hell, sometimes a bartender who knows when to sit down and shut up can help. Healing doesn't check your DD-214.

At the same time, being supportive doesn't mean a civilian gets to walk into a veteran space and start explaining to veterans what it feels like to be a veteran.

My philosophy is pretty simple. Veterans should lead the veteran mission. Anyone who genuinely supports that mission can contribute to it. What matters is humility, respect, competence, and what you actually bring to the fight.

What I Want My Leadership to Look Like

At the end of the day, I don't want to lead by saying, "Trust me."

I want to lead by saying, "Watch me."

Watch what I do when I have power. Watch what I do when somebody tells me no. Watch what I do when somebody challenges me. Watch what I do when money is involved. Watch how I treat somebody who can't do anything for me. Watch whether my friends get treated differently. Watch whether I can admit when I'm wrong. Watch whether I'm willing to give authority away. Watch whether I'm building people up or making them dependent on me.

That's leadership by example.

That's servant leadership.

The goal isn't to become the most important person in the room. The goal is to make the people in the room more capable, more confident, more connected, and more willing to lead themselves.

And if I'm ever fucking up, I expect the people around me to have the balls to tell me.

That's part of servant leadership too.

There are some principles I keep coming back to: no special access, no special favors, no secret deals, no purchased loyalty, no weaponizing trauma, no gossip politics, no entitlement because of suffering, no expectation that the leader personally rescues everyone, and no punishment for saying no.

Most importantly, transparency isn't an accusation. It's protection.

I don't expect anybody to trust me simply because I'm a good guy. I'd rather build something where people can trust the system because we're willing to show them how it works.

That's the kind of leader I'm trying to be.

And I'm still fucking learning.

Semper Silkies. Always Healing.

Hugh Tychsen, Gunnery Sergeant, USMC (retired)