Over the holidays, I found myself re-watching the original British crime thriller series Inspector Lynley. It's a bit of a throwback, but watching it with fresh eyes, one thing really stood out to me.
It was the behaviour of the corrupt (or perhaps just incompetent) Chief Inspectors of the various seasons. They consistently demand unwavering loyalty from Lynley and Havers, usually to pursue foolish leads, or to bury the real truth, usually to protect someone "important" (sometimes themselves).
It made me focus a bit more on the word: loyalty.
I've noticed it being thrown around a LOT recently. From the global geopolitical stage to major corporate boardrooms, loyalty is usually spoken of as an unquestioned virtue. We praise it in our colleagues, expect it in our institutions, and quietly demand it in our communities.
Yet, looking back on my own professional and civic life, I've noticed that demands for loyalty often show up at exactly the point where judgement gets uncomfortable.
So, I've been trying to think more carefully about what we actually mean by it, and to whom or to what we should actually be loyal.
The "Nuance" of Loyalty
We need to avoid the "binary success delusion" here (see: Transcending Binary Success Delusion). Loyalty isn't inherently bad. In most settings, loyalty means standing by:
- A person who backed you early (we all have mentors we owe a debt to).
- A team you've grown up in.
- An institution that gave you status or identity.
- A professional tribe that "speaks your language."
There is a lot to like about this. Loyalty creates continuity. In economic terms, it reduces transaction costs. It allows trust to accumulate over time like compound interest. Without some form of loyalty, most organisations simply wouldn't function.
When loyalty starts doing quiet damage
However, I've noticed that loyalty to a person over and above values can act like a set of blinkers. It can mean:
- Not asking a question because it might be seen as disloyal.
- Softening a critique because "now isn't the right time."
- Defending a decision you wouldn't make yourself.
- Staying aligned long after the underlying reasons have shifted.
This isn't a new problem
Ancient philosophers were already uneasy about loyalty when it conflicted with practical wisdom. Socrates famously died for supporting loyalty to virtues rather than to the state. He worried less about obedience and more about character, about whether allegiance supported truth and justice, or quietly displaced them.
More recently, modern thinkers have pointed out something similar from a psychological angle known as attachment theory: loyalty often functions as "emotional shelter." (see for example: How Attachment Affects You: Relationships, Growth & Healing).
It spares us the anxiety of standing alone. It gives us scripts, allies, and a sense of being "on the right side." But it comes with trade-offs.
A shift I'm trying to make
Recently, I've been experimenting with a different framing. Instead of asking "Who am I loyal to?" I'm trying to ask "What am I loyal to?" And the What is best anchored with values. But values behave very differently to people or tribes.
- They don't offer belonging.
- They don't reward silence.
- They don't protect you from awkward conversations.
In fact, loyalty to values often creates tension with colleagues, institutions, and sometimes with yourself.
But values also do something important: they scale. They travel across roles, contexts, and phases of life. They remain usable when leaders change, or when organisations drift.
This doesn't mean abandoning people or relationships
I don't intend to be a hermit living up a mountain. I know that people and communities matter deeply. They are how values are lived, tested, and refined. But I am increasingly wary of any form of loyalty that asks me to suspend judgement rather than exercise it. In practice, that means:
- Staying committed to people, but not outsourcing my ethics to them.
- Engaging with institutions, but not confusing longevity with virtue.
- Participating in tribes, while resisting the pressure to defend them at all costs.
Where I've landed (for now)
I'm not finished thinking about this, and I'm not sure there's a clean resolution for me. But I am more and more convinced that loyalty works best when it's anchored to values first, and only secondarily to people, groups, or nations.
When that order reverses, loyalty stops being a virtue and starts becoming a constraint—like keeping the training wheels on a bike long after you should be riding freely (see: Life Without Training Wheels).
If loyalty has never made you uncomfortable, if it has never forced you to choose between belonging and integrity, it may be worth asking whether it's loyalty at all, or simply habit.
What do you think? Have you felt this tension in your own journey? Do you have a different view?
Cheers,
Paul
Drafted by Paul, tuned with assistance from AI.
Leave a Comment