When Leadership Harms: The Deadly Cost of Toxic Culture in Humanitarian Work

Some harm doesn’t leave a bruise. But it breaks people anyway.

Toxic leadership in humanitarian work is often minimized as a “bad personality fit,” a “style issue,” or a “tough leadership call.”

But the truth is this:
Toxic leadership can be deadly.

In recent years, courts, ombuds offices, and investigative boards around the world have begun calling this harm what it is—a form of organizational violence. People have lost their mental health, their dignity, their careers. Some have even lost their lives.

And still, too often, humanitarian organizations respond with delay, denial, or silence.

“Let’s not overreact.”
“This is just how leadership works at this level.”
“They deliver results.”
“We’re handling it internally.”

All while the culture curdles quietly—and people pay the price.

Toxic leadership doesn’t happen in a vacuum

It’s easy to point at one individual and call them the problem.
But toxic leaders don’t rise by accident.

At some point, someone trained, rewarded, or promoted them.
At some point, the system said: This behavior gets results. This is what success looks like.

And so it repeats:

• Harshness gets mistaken for strength

• Disconnection gets rewarded as “professionalism”

• Control gets packaged as “efficiency”

• Silence gets incentivized as loyalty

And the worst part? Those who truly lead with care, competence, and humanity often get passed over—for being “too soft,” “too emotional,” or “not strategic enough.”

We’re not just tolerating harm.
We’re designing systems that elevate it.

What does toxic leadership look like?

In humanitarian work, it often wears a polished face. But here’s what it can look and feel like behind the scenes:

• Emotional manipulation and gaslighting

• Retaliation against staff who raise concerns

• Chronic avoidance of accountability

• Demands for loyalty over integrity

• Exclusion of voices that challenge the status quo

• Promoting personal agendas over humanitarian principles

Sometimes it shows up as martyr culture—glorifying burnout, rewarding overwork, and expecting self-sacrifice as proof of commitment.

Sometimes it hides behind toxic positivity—insisting that everything is fine, while teams are crumbling inside.

And sometimes, it’s as old as the "boys' club"—unspoken hierarchies, protect-your-own loyalty, and backroom decisions made far from those most affected.

A reckoning is quietly underway

In recent years, a growing number of institutions and governments have begun holding senior leaders legally and ethically accountable for workplace harm.

We’re seeing:

• Landmark legal cases where organizations were found liable for the impact of toxic leadership

• Boards forced to respond—finally—after prolonged staff complaints

• Public awareness that “poor leadership” is not just unfortunate; it’s unsafe

These moments matter. Not because they fix the system, but because they affirm what many staff already know in their bones:

This is not normal.
This is not okay.
And this is not the cost of doing good work.

When we protect toxic leaders, we betray the people doing the work

Ignoring harm—especially from those in power—sends a dangerous message:

You can treat people badly, as long as you deliver.
You can break trust, as long as you manage up.
You can lead without integrity, as long as you perform well in a crisis.

But the human cost is staggering.

We lose:

• Our best people

• Our moral authority

• Our ability to do this work with compassion, credibility, and soul

We drift from the humanitarian principles we claim to serve.
And over time, we teach our teams that care is optional—and harm is tolerated.

The Humanitarian Reset is not just about programs. It’s about power.

In this moment of massive change—budget cuts, restructures, shifting mandates—we have a choice:

Do we default to old power models?
Or do we build something truer, more courageous, and more human?

It’s not enough to professionalize the sector.
It’s not enough to bring in corporate leaders without humanitarian grounding.
It’s not enough to post statements about dignity while enabling harm behind closed doors.

This work is rooted in history. In colonial legacy. In power imbalance. In deep, often unspoken patterns.

But it doesn’t have to stay that way.

If you’re reading this and feeling grief, anger, or resonance—you’re not alone

This post is for:

• Staff who’ve stayed silent for too long

• Leaders who are trying to do better, even when it costs

• Survivors of organizational harm who are still carrying the weight

• Anyone wondering if there’s still a place for values in a breaking system

There is.

But only if we choose to name what’s harming us.

Only if we choose accountability—not just for individuals, but for the cultures that create them.

Only if we lead in a way that doesn’t betray the very people we ask to care for others.

Leadership doesn’t have to hurt. And care is not weakness.

Accountability is not vengeance.
It’s repair.
It’s protection.
It’s choosing integrity—even when it’s hard.

The future of humanitarian work depends not just on what we do—but how we treat the people who do it.


Holding space with care and solidarity — here’s to staying whole, together,

~ Kate

Thanks for reading The Olive Pages: Fieldnotes on care, clarity, and staying whole

If this post resonated, feel free to share it with someone navigating change.
Browse other reflections or subscribe below to receive new posts directly in your inbox.
→ Curious about coaching or consulting support? Explore services.

KRC provides coaching, psychosocial support, and organizational consulting to humanitarian professionals and mission-driven organizations worldwide. Based in lived experience and trauma-aware care, our work helps clients navigate burnout, moral injury, organizational change, and career transitions — while staying human in the process.