Leaders Eat Last

Picture this: you're sitting in your office late one evening, watching colleagues pack up and head home, when you realize something unsettling. Despite working alongside these people for months or even years, you can't shake the feeling that everyone is looking out for themselves first. The trust that should bind a team together feels fragile, and collaboration often feels forced rather than natural. You're not alone in this experience. Research shows that 80 percent of people are dissatisfied with their jobs, and much of this stems from environments where self-preservation trumps collective success.

This disconnect between our human need for belonging and the reality of modern workplace culture represents one of the most pressing challenges of our time. When we examine the most successful organizations throughout history, from elite military units to thriving corporations, we discover they all share one crucial element: leaders who prioritize the safety and well-being of their people above their own interests. These environments don't just produce better results; they create conditions where individuals willingly sacrifice for the group, innovation flourishes, and people actually look forward to coming to work. Understanding the biological and anthropological forces that drive human cooperation can transform not only how we lead but how we experience work itself.

On a moonless night over Afghanistan in 2002, Captain Mike Drowley, known by his call sign Johnny Bravo, faced a decision that would define his understanding of leadership. Flying his A-10 aircraft thousands of feet above a thick cloud cover, he couldn't see the twenty-two Special Operations Forces below, but he could sense their anxiety through occasional radio contact. When the dreaded words "troops in contact" crackled through his headset, Johnny Bravo knew American soldiers were under attack somewhere beneath the clouds.

Despite the extreme danger of flying blind into a narrow valley with outdated Soviet maps and limited night vision, Johnny Bravo made a choice that went against standard protocol. He pushed his aircraft down through the turbulent clouds, counting seconds aloud to avoid crashing into mountain walls while laying down covering fire for the troops below. When his ammunition ran out, he guided his wingman through the same treacherous maneuver, and together they continued their protective mission until all twenty-two soldiers made it home alive.

What drove Johnny Bravo to risk everything for people he'd never met? It wasn't his training, education, or advanced aircraft systems, though all were important. His greatest asset, he explains, was empathy. The knowledge that those soldiers would have done the same for him created a bond strong enough to overcome fear and self-preservation. This represents the essence of what happens when people feel truly protected by their leaders and connected to their team.

The biological reality is that humans are designed to work together, and when we feel safe among our own people, we naturally extend that same protection to others. Johnny Bravo's story illustrates how trust and empathy create what can be called a Circle of Safety, where individuals willingly put the group's welfare before their own. In the right environment, this same dynamic transforms ordinary workplaces into extraordinary teams.

When Bob Chapman took over the struggling manufacturing company HayssenSandiacre, he encountered a workplace divided by an invisible but powerful barrier. Office workers enjoyed freedoms like making personal phone calls and taking coffee breaks at will, while factory employees had to punch time clocks, wait for bells to signal breaks, and ask permission to use pay phones. The message was unmistakable: some people were trusted, others were not.

Chapman witnessed a scene that would reshape his entire approach to business. Sitting in the company cafeteria one morning, he watched employees laughing and joking together before their shift began, genuinely enjoying each other's company. But the moment they stood up to start work, their smiles vanished, their energy drained away, and they transformed into resigned workers going through the motions. This stark contrast sparked a profound question in Chapman's mind: why can't we enjoy ourselves at work the same way we do when we're not working?

Rather than implementing top-down changes or bringing in consultants, Chapman chose to listen. He discovered that employees felt like second-class citizens in their own workplace, subject to different rules and treated with suspicion. His response was revolutionary in its simplicity: he removed the time clocks, eliminated the bells, took down the locked cages around spare parts, and made company phones available to everyone. Every employee, regardless of their role, would be treated with the same trust and respect.

The transformation was remarkable. Employees began transferring their own vacation days to help a colleague whose diabetic wife needed care. Cooperation increased, machine breakdowns decreased, and revenue grew from fifty-five million to ninety-five million dollars. Chapman had discovered that when you treat people like human beings worthy of trust rather than resources to be managed, they respond by caring for each other and the organization with unprecedented dedication.

Captain David Marquet had spent his entire naval career preparing to command the USS Olympia, studying every system and memorizing crew details to establish his authority through superior knowledge. When he was suddenly reassigned to the USS Santa Fe just weeks before taking command, he faced a submarine crew ranked dead last in the Navy and equipment he didn't fully understand. His first instinct was to rely on what had always worked: being in control and giving orders.

During a training exercise, Captain Marquet ordered his Officer of the Deck to set the engines to "ahead two-thirds." The order was acknowledged and repeated down the chain of command, but nothing happened. When Marquet investigated, he discovered that the Santa Fe didn't have a two-thirds setting on its electric motors. More troubling was his officer's explanation for repeating an impossible order: "Because you told me to." This moment revealed the dangerous reality of top-down leadership where people follow instructions without thinking, even when those instructions make no sense.

Recognizing that blind obedience could be catastrophic in a nuclear submarine, Captain Marquet made a fundamental shift. Instead of hoarding control and knowledge, he began distributing both throughout his crew. He banned phrases like "permission to" and replaced them with "I intend to," transforming crew members from order-followers into decision-makers who owned their actions. Rather than commanding and controlling, he focused on building competence and clarity among his people.

The results exceeded all expectations. The Santa Fe went from worst to first in Navy rankings, with crew members showing initiative, solving problems collaboratively, and taking genuine responsibility for outcomes. Retention rates soared, and an unprecedented nine out of fourteen officers went on to command their own submarines. By giving up control, Captain Marquet had created something far more powerful: an environment where everyone acted like a leader, making the entire organization stronger and more resilient.

For decades, Goldman Sachs operated under a simple philosophy that senior partner Gustave Levy called "long-term greedy." This meant sometimes sacrificing immediate profits to serve clients well, building loyalty and trust that would pay dividends over time. Known as "billionaire Boy Scouts" for their integrity, Goldman bankers were so respected that their involvement in an IPO served as a Good Housekeeping seal of approval. The firm's partnership culture emphasized putting the firm's needs above individual interests, creating bonds strong enough to weather any financial storm.

But starting in the 1990s and accelerating after the company went public in 1999, this culture began to erode. New regulations had disappeared, creating opportunities for bold financial experiments, and Goldman began attracting a different breed of employee. Academic credentials and prior success took precedence over cultural fit, and the firm split into two camps: those committed to the old Goldman values and those focused primarily on maximizing their own wealth and status.

The transformation became complete when Goldman embraced layoffs for the first time in the early 1990s, traumatic events that would have been unthinkable in the partnership days. By 2010, following the mortgage-backed securities crisis and controversial bonuses paid after receiving government bailouts, Goldman's reputation lay in tatters. CEO Lloyd Blankfein was forced to apologize publicly, but the damage was done. The firm that had once been trusted above all others was now seen as a symbol of Wall Street excess and greed.

Greg Smith, a twelve-year Goldman veteran, captured this transformation in his resignation letter published in the New York Times. He mourned the loss of a culture built on "pride and belief in the organization" and criticized leadership for promoting anyone who made enough money for the firm, regardless of character. The lesson is clear: when leaders prioritize performance over people and individual gain over collective good, even the strongest cultures can be corrupted, and the trust that took generations to build can be destroyed in mere years.

The story of James Sinegal and Costco presents a stark contrast to the Wall Street approach exemplified by executives like Jack Welch at General Electric. While Welch became famous for his "rank and yank" system, firing the bottom ten percent of managers each year and prioritizing shareholder value above all else, Sinegal built Costco on the radical premise that taking care of employees first would ultimately benefit everyone, including shareholders.

When Wall Street analysts criticized Sinegal for being "too benevolent" and pressured him to cut employee benefits and wages, he refused. Instead, Costco maintained the highest wages in retail, provided health insurance to ninety percent of employees, and promoted almost exclusively from within. During the 2009 recession, while competitors announced layoffs, Sinegal approved wage increases because he believed workers needed extra help during tough times, not less support.

The financial results speak for themselves: investors who chose Costco over GE during Welch's tenure would have seen returns of nearly 1200 percent compared to 600 percent. More importantly, Costco built sustainable success with turnover rates below ten percent, employee loyalty that translates into exceptional customer service, and a culture strong enough to outlast any individual leader. Sinegal understood that customers will never love a company until employees love it first.

This philosophy extends far beyond retail. Whether it's Bob Chapman protecting his people during economic downturns, Captain Marquet developing submarine crews, or military leaders eating last while their troops eat first, the pattern remains consistent. True leadership isn't about maximizing short-term performance or climbing hierarchies; it's about creating environments where people feel safe enough to be vulnerable, generous enough to help others, and committed enough to sacrifice for the greater good. These leaders understand that their legacy isn't measured by personal achievement but by how many other leaders they develop.

Leadership is fundamentally about creating conditions where human beings can do what they do best: cooperate, innovate, and care for one another in pursuit of something greater than individual success.

Start by examining your own Circle of Safety. Look for opportunities to extend trust before expecting it in return, whether that means removing unnecessary controls, sharing information more freely, or simply listening more deeply to the people around you. Measure your success not just by the numbers you hit but by the leaders you develop and the culture you leave behind. Remember that small, consistent actions compound over time to create profound cultural shifts, so focus on daily behaviors that demonstrate you value people as human beings, not just productive resources.