Solidarity or Just Silence?
The Emperor’s Cabinet
The other day, I found myself sitting with what I can only describe as The Emperor’s Cabinet. Not in an official sense, of course, but in the way that mattered—the group of people who, in front of Toxic Boss, nod enthusiastically, praise her decisions, and take on the role of enforcers, reporting back on anyone who dares question her leadership.
They’re the loyalists, right? The ones who truly believe in what they defend?
You’d think so. But you’d be wrong.
At this meeting, a decision had apparently been made—one that impacted teachers—but, as usual, no one had been told. One of them rolled their eyes and said, “Wellll... someone should probably tell the teachers, because I know I haven’t gotten any kind of email about this. I thought it was just an idea.”
Cue the others jumping in.
“Oh, no communication from her? That’s weird.” (Dripping sarcasm.)
“But we have a matrix,” another one said, mockingly referencing the principal’s favorite system for pretending things are organized.
Here they were, openly mocking the exact things they praise when she’s in the room. Trashing the very structures they claim to uphold. It was like watching the illusion crack for just a moment.
But here’s the thing—these people aren’t just enablers. They are the most disloyal of all. Not just to Toxic Boss, but to the teachers, the work, the entire organization. They see the dysfunction. They joke about it. But they don’t push for change. And worse? They’re the first ones to shut down, shame, or report anyone who does.
They don’t actually believe in the leadership they prop up. They don’t believe in anything at all—except self-preservation.
How Solidarity Gets Weaponized
This is how it happens. It’s not just about a leader demanding compliance—it’s about the slow conditioning that teaches people to stay silent if they want to survive. I’ve watched it happen in real time.
When a teacher spoke up in a leadership meeting about the staff’s low morale, she demonstrated courage. But instead of asking questions and exploring the issue, Toxic Boss shut it down: “What are you talking about? We have fun!”And just like that, one of the Cabinet rushed to reinforce the narrative: “Yeah! This is the highest morale I’ve ever seen at this school.” Silence restored. Message received.
When a teacher had spent years developing an important student capstone project, Toxic Boss decided she wanted someone else to do it. Instead of discussing it openly, she set up one of her famous meetings: “I know you’ll say yes because you’re not defiant, right?” It wasn’t a request—it was a test of obedience. A reminder that questioning decisions—even ones that directly undermine your work—was not an option.
When a team decided to bring back “Friday Letters” in advisory, Toxic Boss heard about it and apparently liked it. Because instead of acknowledging the teacher who had created the original template, she spent the entire day badgering her for a copy. Later, she sent out a staff-wide email with the document, adding a single sentence and signing her name to it: “Here is a template that I wrote for you to use for Friday Letters.” Everyone knew. Everyone whispered. But no one called it out. And when I pointed out the obvious—isn’t this plagiarism?—a Cabinet member shut it down: “Well, I think the moment has passed for really addressing that. It would just seem petty to bring it up now.” The message was clear: the truth doesn’t matter nearly as much as keeping the peace.
This is how a culture of forced solidarity is built. Not through policy. Not through memos. But through everyday moments that train people to stop pushing, stop questioning, stop speaking.
To be fair, most people who stay silent aren’t villains. They’re not out to enforce the dysfunction—they’re just trying to survive it. They’ve learned, sometimes the hard way, that pushing back comes with consequences. Maybe they tried once and got burned. Maybe they’re exhausted. Maybe they don’t even realize how much they’ve adapted to keeping their heads down.
And if that’s you? You may be at peace with that. Your journey has led you to that wisdom and you can just watch the monkeys in the circus which is not yours to worry about. Additionally, let’s be honest. Kind of like the whole attendance policy thing: you can’t do the work if you’re not there. So navigating in silence allows you to stay - probably outstay any admin. so that you can have lasting impact on your school.
If you’re silent and it gnaws at you a little, you don’t have to be a loud resistor overnight. But you can start small. You can choose, in a crucial moment, to ask the question no one else will. To back up the person speaking the truth instead of leaving them alone in the silence. To shift, even slightly, from survival mode to something more. But why? There’s very real risk to aligning what you know is right with helping each other with accountability in the world. But helping fairness survive, protecting people from abuse may be worth it to you to surrender comfort and security.
In either case, whether to speak up or not is a choice.
And in the end, it’s not just the boldest voices that create change—it’s the quiet ones who decide, little by little, to stop pretending everything is fine. Or to conclude that it is.
The Truth About “The Challengers”
And the ones who don’t fall in line? The ones who believe in the work enough to challenge what isn’t working? They get labeled. Negative. Not a team player. A bad fit.
Instead of addressing real problems, leaders like Toxic Boss redirect blame onto the people who refuse to pretend everything is fine. They frame the challengers as the issue—as if removing the dissenters would magically fix the dysfunction because then people wouldn’t notice it.
There’s a difference between the chronic naysayers—the ones who resist everything just to avoid effort—and the challengers. Challengers aren’t against change or hard work. They push back because they want to know the reasoning, the system, the impact—not just another erratic, rushed, or restless decision from the top.
They’re the ones asking the questions that no one else will ask. The ones pushing for real solutions instead of just pretending things are fine. The ones who have the courage to say what others are whispering. Who people find in the hallway to say, “Thank you for speaking up.” “Well said.” Or “You’re the one who says what everyone in the room is thinking but aren’t brave enough to say.”
The most toxic leaders don’t actually want loyalty. They want obedience. And they reward the people who give it to them—not with respect, but with proximity to power. Meanwhile, the ones with actual integrity? They’re the ones under scrutiny. They’re the ones being pushed out.
So, What’s the Fix?
Maybe what we need isn’t more silence disguised as solidarity. Maybe we need stronger leaders. Leaders who can handle real feedback instead of surrounding themselves with “yes” people. Leaders who care more about the integrity of the work than the illusion of loyalty.
And if you’re in a position of leadership—formal or not—here’s your challenge: Lean in to the resistance. The ones who aren’t smiling and nodding. The ones who are asking the hard questions. Instead of shutting them down, listen. Because real leaders don’t demand silence. They earn trust.