Managers like to think of themselves as decision-makers. In reality, most of the time they are the ones receiving orders: from the board, from regulators, from the market, from shareholders, or from the ever-present “voice from above.”
The real dilemma begins when an instruction is clearly legal, perhaps even sensible in the short term — but something about it feels wrong. Unethical. Misguided. The kind of decision that leaves scorched earth behind.
The instinctive response usually falls into one of two camps: open rebellion, or silent compliance. But there is a third option, far more subtle, and it is the one that truly sets a high bar for leadership.
The story of the midwives in Egypt, as analyzed by Rabbi Isaac Arama, offers a surprising model. They did not rebel against Pharaoh, nor did they disobey his command in the straightforward sense. On the contrary, they were careful not to violate the king’s decree. Instead, they made a smarter move: they changed their role.
The moment they realized that direct involvement in childbirth could turn them into instruments of evil, they stepped out of that arena. No protest. No dramatic resignation. Just a quiet professional shift. They stopped being midwives and became caregivers. Rather than being part of the problem, they created a new role for themselves — one that allowed them to remain within the system without serving what they could not morally accept.
This leads to a sharp managerial insight:
Not every struggle is resolved through confrontation. Sometimes a leader’s true responsibility is to recognize when the role itself has become the problem — and to redraw the boundaries of engagement.
Here Aristotle’s thinking on leadership and moral action fits precisely. For him, an action is judged not only by obedience to authority or by its final outcome, but by what it does to the person acting and to the system in which they operate. A leader who carries out a directive that is “correct on paper,” while knowing it compromises their integrity or erodes the organization, may be compliant — but has lost their leadership judgment. Wisdom, according to Aristotle, is neither rebellion nor blind obedience, but practical judgment: the ability to change the mode of action so the system is preserved, without turning oneself into a tool that destroys it from within.
This dilemma is not theoretical for me. As an entrepreneur and CEO, I have more than once faced a board that “dropped” recommendations I was not at peace with. I knew I didn’t want to create antagonism, undermine authority, or signal disrespect — but I also couldn’t act against my professional judgment.
During the COVID period, for example, I was asked to carry out rapid and significant downsizing. I felt it would be a mistake that could seriously harm the company’s ability to recover. Instead of confronting the demand head-on or ignoring it, I proposed an alternative: a partial, measured implementation, with a clear commitment to reassess after three months. I said simply: let’s try this, and if I don’t deliver the profitability you’re asking for, we’ll make the necessary adjustments.
This way, I didn’t dismiss the directive — but I also didn’t abandon the path I believed in. In hindsight, it was one of the most important decisions in building the company.
And here the lesson of the midwives comes full circle. They didn’t say “no” to Pharaoh — but they also didn’t become his instruments. They changed how they were involved, so they could remain true to their values while still operating within the system.
Which brings us to the truly difficult questions:
How many managers remain in roles where they don’t really decide — but are still expected to sign off?
How many continue to run a unit, a product, or a process while knowing that, in its current structure, it will cause harm — to employees, customers, or the organization itself?
And how many tell themselves, “This isn’t my decision,” thereby giving up moral responsibility?
The midwives teach a different model: if you cannot influence from within without being harmed, change how you are involved. Step sideways. Redefine what you do take responsibility for. Sometimes that means moving from operations to strategy, from execution to oversight, from managing people to mentoring them. Not escape — but wisdom.
Mature leadership is measured not only by the courage to say “no,” but also by the ability to say: Here, I am no longer the right instrument — but I am still responsible for the outcome.
Those who understand this in time not only protect their values; they also save the organization from itself.
First published: 07:34, 01.08.26