
In my latest article, I explore why organizations, in this case study- UNESCO (and those in positions of authority) so often dismiss requests they deem excessive, when in fact these are routine, legitimate needs of long-serving staff, often entangled in complex personal circumstances. In doing so, the institution exposes itself to avoidable disputes and unnecessary litigation, all of which could have been averted with a more thoughtful and humane approach.
In my experience, two principles have grounded my approach to leadership and decision-making, especially in difficult environments.
First, regardless of rank or years of service, every colleague has something valuable to offer. Even those perceived as “dead weight“, a term I categorically reject, often carry within them a particular strength, insight, or passion that has simply been overlooked or underused. The key lies in identifying that niche: the area where each person is uniquely competent. I’m not speaking here about technical skills (those can be taught, acquired, replaced). I mean the subtler, often underappreciated strengths: interpersonal fluency, team adaptability, resilience in solitary roles, the need for structured routine, or a talent for chaos management. Some are neurodivergent, some need visibility, others prefer to work behind the scenes. Some need the stability of repetition; others need to be pushed into uncharted territory to thrive.
Leadership, contrary to popular management mantras, is not about “teaching” people to be different versions of yourself. That’s where things unravel. Leaders who obsess over moulding their teams in their own image fall into the predictable trap of coercive control. It begins with good intentions: coaching, “capacity-building”, a push for “standards” and ends in abuse of authority. The unspoken logic: if someone doesn’t conform to my version of performance or behaviour, I have the right to marginalize them or push them out.
Second, understanding the personal context behind performance requires more than professionalism: it requires empathy. And yes, compassion. Because work, while central to identity, does not suspend a person’s lived reality. Over time, people evolve; their private lives evolve with them. Health issues, family demands, losses, transitions: all of these bleed into the workplace whether leadership chooses to acknowledge them or not.
Too many conflicts in the workplace stem from a refusal to understand this. Leaders who lack the emotional intelligence to accommodate the realities of life outside the office will inevitably generate resistance, frustration, and yes too often litigation.
In a recent series of striking International Labour Organization Administrative Tribunal (ILOAT) judgments involving UNESCO (Nos. 5052–5056, 140th session), a long-serving P-5 staff member, after nearly three decades of service, was abruptly placed in the mobility scheme. At the time, he was undergoing a divorce and had shared custody of his minor daughter, which legally and logistically made relocation impossible. He submitted a request for deferral, citing these personal circumstances and referencing provisions in the HR Manual that allowed for such exceptions. The request was rejected without meaningful consideration.
From there, things unfolded in a way that was entirely disproportionate, but all too familiar. His post was placed in the mobility pool, and he was reassigned to Brazzaville. When that posting fell through, due to lack of host government approval, he was sent to Kingston. At no point did he refuse outright to take up the assignments. He asked for time, a short and reasonable delay to resolve matters related to his child. This was consistent with established practice and far from an exceptional request.
Instead of responding with a degree of flexibility or basic empathy, the administration treated his request as a refusal to comply and moved straight into disciplinary mode. But there was nothing to investigate: no misconduct had actually taken place. He had submitted a legitimate request to defer relocation, based on personal and legal obligations. Rather than engage with the substance of that request, management bypassed internal oversight procedures entirely. The required preliminary review by the internal oversight division never took place. No effort was made to establish whether there was any factual basis for disciplinary action, because the facts were already known and undisputed. There was no misconduct, only a difference in approach: one side asking for time, the other insisting on immediate compliance. Yet this administrative disagreement was escalated into a charge of insubordination, without even the basic procedural safeguards that a disciplinary process requires.
The senior staff member was placed on special leave and given a clear ultimatum: withdraw his internal appeals or lose his job. When he refused to capitulate, the administration followed through and terminated his appointment for alleged insubordination. The ILOAT later reviewed the case and found the entire process fundamentally flawed. The administration had bypassed its own rules, ignored the requirement for an independent investigation, and failed to meet even the minimum procedural standards for disciplinary action. The dismissal was annulled. Beyond the procedural violations, the Tribunal went further and acknowledged what the staff member had been documenting for years: a pattern of decisions and actions that amounted to institutional harassment.
Which brings us back to the central question: what could have possibly propelled the Executive Director into this kind of aggressive, adversarial stance?
Why turn a routine deferral request into a disciplinary battle? Why not pause, reflect, and acknowledge that these were genuine personal circumstances requiring a proportionate, human response?
The staff member was not challenging authority; he was simply asking for time, yet the request was recast as defiance and rapidly escalated into a full-blown disciplinary conflict.
I find it hard to believe that people begin their careers this way.
Most do not.
It is often the system itself: the absence of consequences, the unchecked authority, the culture of protecting the institution at all costs that distorts behaviour over time. The UN’s structural tolerance for impunity rewards those who bulldoze their way through dissent, override discretion, and reframe perfectly reasonable staff concerns as insubordination. Some may well have climbed the ranks by doing just that. Others may have lost their bearings along the way. But the end result is the same.
Real leadership requires the ability to see others. Many lead, but very few actually see the people they lead.
They manage outputs, they push directives, they meet deadlines, but they stop engaging with the human beings carrying the weight of the organization.
That’s where leadership breaks down. Leadership doesn’t collapse because of flawed systems or poorly written policies pr performance metrics, rather it collapses when those in charge stop recognising the people in front of them.
Which brings us to the second scenario: when leaders fail to see the value of their staff simply because they occupy a lower grade. Locked into a rigid hierarchy and their own assumptions about who is worth listening to, they operate on the belief that no one at a junior level could possibly offer insights more relevant or more useful than their own. When that mindset takes hold, the outcome is rarely constructive.
Instead of engaging, these leaders take offence. They don’t take the time to assess what is being said or consider whether it has merit. Instead, they react defensively, as if their position has been challenged. The conversation ends there. What follows is not a reasoned assessment of competing views, but a retaliatory move against someone they consider to have overstepped. Once again, what we see is a pattern of egocentric leadership where self-perception overrides sound judgment. And once again, it fails.
ILOAT Judgments No. 5057 and No. 5058 (K. v. UNESCO) perfectly capture this leadership failure.
The case concerned a long-serving G-3 level security officer at UNESCO, employed since 2002. As part of his duties, he also served as a trainer for other security staff in the use of “intermediate defense equipment,” including batons, handcuffs, and pepper spray. These certifications were initially granted following a 2016 training by an external provider and were subject to renewal every year(or every three years in the case of trainers).
Between March 2018 and October 2019, the staff member sent several emails to his supervisors, flagging the failure to organize mandatory refresher trainings, which had resulted in the expiration of the required licenses for several security officers. This created operational uncertainty within the unit, with some staff discontinuing use of the equipment, and others continuing to carry it while unsure of their legal authority to do so.
Instead of addressing the issue substantively, the administration issued the staff member a downgraded performance review, accusing him of exhibiting inappropriate behaviour and poor communication. He then filed a complaint for retaliation, which UNESCO dismissed at the preliminary review stage. The Ethics Advisor concluded that his reporting of expired weapons certifications did not constitute a protected activity under the organization’s rules.
The ILOA Tribunal disagreed, and in strong terms. It found that the staff member’s reporting of safety and compliance concerns regarding defensive equipment did fall within the scope of protected activity, even if the underlying issue resulted from deliberate internal decisions or inaction. The Tribunal emphasized that:
“The fact that the alleged breach of rules was the result of a management decision does not, in itself, exclude the possibility that reporting such a breach constitutes protected activity.”
This directly contradicted the Ethics Advisor’s logic and revealed a fundamental misunderstanding of what constitutes whistleblowing or protected disclosures. The Tribunal held that the decision to dismiss the retaliation complaint was unlawful, and that the complainant had suffered moral harm as a result of the premature closure of his case without proper investigation.
The Tribunal also noted that UNESCO did not contest the factual basis of the staff member’s claims: the licenses had indeed expired, and the required trainings had not taken place. Yet, rather than engage with the substance of the concern: operational safety, legal risk, and staff uncertainty, the organization focused its efforts on discrediting the messenger.
This second case illustrates the same failure from a different angle: one rooted in hierarchy and ego. Here, the staff member wasn’t in a senior role. He was G-3 level, a security officer. But he knew his work, and he raised legitimate, operational concerns about the expiry of weapons certifications and the risks of having security personnel uncertain about their authority to use defensive gear. He flagged it calmly, through internal channels, over a sustained period. And yet, rather than acknowledge the seriousness of the issue, even the Tribunal called it “worrisome”, his supervisor took offence.
Because the feedback came from someone at a lower grade, it was treated not as input but as interference. The issue was never evaluated on its own terms and instead was buried under performance reviews and process language. His communications were suddenly labeled inappropriate, his tone scrutinized, and the focus shifted from the substance of what he was saying to the discomfort it caused his supervisor.
This is the kind of reaction that plays out when leadership becomes entangled in its own rank, title, and entitlement. And once again, it fails. What followed was a series of retaliatory actions under the cover of formal processes. The failure here was the inability to recognize that valid concerns can come from any level, and that leadership requires the ability to engage with what is being said, regardless of who says it.
In both cases, the outcome was the same: escalation, legal defeat, and reputational damage. All of it avoidable.
What’s difficult to reconcile is the gap between the values the UN and the wider humanitarian sector claim to uphold, and the behaviours that are tolerated, and at times rewarded, at senior levels. This is a non-profit environment. By definition, our work is meant to be grounded in higher principles: dignity, justice, integrity, inclusion. Unlike the private sector, where abuse and retaliation are often concealed behind NDAs and threats of blacklisting, our legitimacy depends on the consistent application of the very values we put on our posters, in mission statements, and in every new cycle of leadership and behavioral competency frameworks. But these values cannot just exist on paper or in strategy rollouts. They have to be seen in how we treat people every day.
So if you’re in a leadership role, the one question worth asking is this: do you actually see the people around you? And if you do, in what light?
Leadership begins with the ability to see the people in front of you. If you can’t do that, then what exactly are you leading?





