In shaping and building police agencies, every action, word and decision from leadership helps define culture. How we praise and how we punish, how we give feedback — or fail to — sends powerful signals to our people.
“Good work” = Do more of this.
“This is a problem” = Don’t do more of this.
Silence = The officer fills in the meaning, for better or worse.
These signals can be subtle — or they can ripple outward into tidal waves. They don’t just influence the course of an officer’s career— they set the tone for the squad, the division and the department as a whole.
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A tale from a warrior culture
Few stories capture the delicate balance between praise and accountability more vividly than the legend of Isidas of Ancient Greece.
Isidas was a young Spartan warrior. History — and Hollywood — remind us that Sparta was a city-state defined by its ferocity, where courage and sacrifice in defense of one’s people were the highest virtues. Sound familiar?
As the story goes, Isidas charged into battle completely unarmored and unclothed, a spear in one hand and a sword in the other. He fought with unmatched courage, weaving through enemy lines, striking down opponents and emerging without a single wound — as if the gods themselves had chosen to protect him.
For his bravery, the ephors, Sparta’s council of magistrates, placed a garland on his head. For his recklessness, they fined him 1,000 drachmas — about $5,000 in today’s terms.
“Analysis of action” not “observance of outcome”
The Spartans sent a clear message: bravery deserves honor, but abandoning rules and protocol cannot be excused. The positive outcome did not erase the flawed action.
In modern policing, Officer Isidas is the “cowboy.” He makes countless stops, sparks pursuits and racks up arrests. At first, it looks impressive — maybe even commendable. Leadership praises him. The squad room buzzes with stories of his daring chases and narrow escapes.
But eventually, his recklessness wears thin. Supervisors notice. Peers notice. What once looked like heroism now looks like risk without restraint — unbridled immaturity disguised as valor. We value hard work, determination and bravery, but not at the expense of something greater: safety. In his actions, Isidas compromised his own well-being — and that of his team. When our values become misaligned in the name of performance, we have a problem.
“ Accountability in policing isn’t just about one officer — it’s about everyone watching. And everyone is watching. Today, that audience extends far beyond the squad room. It spans the department, the community, and, at times, the national stage. Few things erode public trust faster than ignoring the chance to hold ourselves to the standards we expect from others. ”
True accountability isn’t punishment for its own sake. It’s coaching. It’s teaching. It’s helping individuals grow while protecting the integrity of the profession. It turns raw information into actionable insight — with one purpose: behavior change.
Recognition builds morale: We see your courage. We honor your sacrifice. Accountability keeps that act tethered to values, principles and mission: Was it wise? Was it lawful? Did it uphold our duty to protect? Did you consider your team, the public and the greater good?
Like Sparta’s martial code, policing requires both grit and guardrails. Courage does not excuse negligence. Our institutions must reward valor and initiative — but also enforce fair consequences when actions violate tactics, law or principle. This balance doesn’t diminish heroism; it defines it.
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The problem of outcome-based reviews
One of the most corrosive habits in policing is evaluating performance based primarily on outcomes.
If the tactics were poor but no one got hurt, the result is called a “win.” We high-five, give a cursory nod to what could’ve been done better and move on. If we raise concerns, we risk being labeled the downer or the buzzkill in a “good news” moment.
Beyond Isidas and “the Cowboy,” let’s consider two other archetypes: the Ninja and the Oracle.
The Ninja: During a high-speed pursuit, this officer’s driving is extreme. Much of it isn’t aired over the radio — updates on speed and conditions are vague at best. A supervisor reviewing the in-car video later sees moments where both the officer’s and the suspect’s driving were nearly catastrophic. Still, the pursuit ends with no injuries, and the suspect — wanted for violent felonies — is caught. The sergeant feels conflicted: how do you critique recklessness when the result looks like success?
The Oracle: This officer’s experience borders on omniscience. He finishes witnesses’ sentences, predicts their stories and prides himself on being right. Most of the time, he is. Years of high call volume have honed his efficiency — but at the expense of thoroughness. Following a complaint from a domestic incident, a review reveals he conducted only a cursory interview, labeled the victim “uncooperative,” and provided no resources in violation of policy. The victim later came forward, and the suspect was arrested. The officer’s supervisors hesitate to confront him, worried that doing so will appear petty and reignite tensions between “admin” and the rank-and-file.
These scenarios illustrate the leadership dilemma that often accompanies performance reviews: the fear of friction outweighs the duty to coach. Allowing discomfort or perception to override accountability elevates ego above excellence. It masks opportunities for growth beneath a veil of misplaced care.
“ The reality is simple: it’s not just where you land — it’s how you got there. The ends do not, and cannot, justify the means. When outcomes define performance, we elevate luck over discipline. And luck is not something we train for, rely on or explain to officers’ families. There is no academy class or operations manual on “getting lucky.” ”
Outcome-based evaluation ignores the process — the foundation of officer safety, investigative integrity and community trust.
In the case of the Ninja, the officer displayed admirable traits like initiative and determination. But not all values are equal. Officer safety and the priorities of life come first. The Ninja, in his pursuit, placed both himself and the public at unnecessary risk.
When we excuse errors because “it worked out this time,” we build a brittle culture — one waiting, or even asking, for tragedy to expose its weakness. And when it does, the team will shatter.
Justice and fairness in leadership
In policing, we often tie the word justice to the criminal legal system — courts, sentencing and punishment. But at its core, justice means fairness.
Fairness in leadership means addressing both the good and the bad. Too many supervisors only deliver praise. Too many others only bring the hammer. True justice in leadership requires speaking up and showing up — when outcomes are good, bad and everything in between. It means reviewing and reflecting not only after catastrophic events but also when disaster was narrowly avoided. Silence when “nothing happened” can be just as corrosive as silence when tragedy strikes.
Accountability doesn’t mean every good act earns an award or every misstep leads to discipline. Balance is the key.
Sometimes recognition is formal — commendations, awards or letters of appreciation. Other times, it’s informal — a quick “kudos” email, a shout-out during briefing or a note in an evaluation.
Likewise, not every mistake calls for formal counseling. Many can be best addressed through after-action reviews, private coaching or practical guidance that helps officers grow.
This balance ensures officers feel seen, guided and supported. It builds trust in leadership — and confidence in the culture that leadership creates.
Building a culture of balance and grit
The story of Isidas reminds us that leadership is not about choosing between recognition and accountability, but about holding both in constant tension.
We must honor bravery, initiative and sacrifice — but also call out recklessness, negligence and shortcuts. When we celebrate only outcomes, we build a hollow culture. When we punish without recognition, we crush morale. But when we balance the two — both in daily practice and in cultural expectation — we shape officers into disciplined professionals who embody courage guided by wisdom.
If an officer shows drive and initiative but mishandles a search and seizure, she can be praised for her engagement while receiving formal training on the misstep. If another uses improper control techniques but excels in de-escalation communication, both elements should be acknowledged. That’s how we promote excellence — by developing individuals, strengthening teams and advancing the profession as a whole.
Policing demands resilience, judgment and integrity. To foster those qualities, leaders must send clear, consistent signals:
- Good work gets recognized.
- Risk without discipline gets corrected.
- Silence is not an option.
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Building feedback into the culture
Key tools for embedding these principles include regular sit-downs between supervisors and subordinates — or, better yet, mentors and mentees. Many agencies already conduct monthly reviews for probationary officers or new supervisors. These conversations create regular touchpoints to discuss goals, successes, challenges and lessons learned.
Supervisors should also implement routine after-action reviews (AARs) or debriefs — not only for their own incidents but for notable events seen elsewhere through reports or body-worn camera footage. These discussions are invaluable for engagement and growth when conducted with structure and respect. Establish ground rules that keep dialogue constructive, stay focused and protect dignity. If an officer’s performance will be discussed, consider asking permission first or inviting them to share their own lessons learned.
Modeling reflective leadership
Leaders must model the behavior they want to see. In AARs, when supervisors share their own thought processes — especially moments of doubt or regret — they demonstrate vulnerability and self-awareness. Some of the most powerful learning experiences occur when a veteran admits, “I didn’t like the decision I made that night, but here’s why I made it.” That kind of honesty builds reflection and maturity across the team.
Seeking feedback — and meaning it
Leaders should also invite feedback. Simply asking, “How am I doing?” rarely yields meaningful responses. Instead, ask targeted questions that open dialogue and trust:
- “How am I communicating things?”
- “What should I do more — or less — of?”
- “Am I accessible when you need me?”
- “How can I help you do your job better?”
- “What can we do as a team to improve?”
Some agencies formalize this through 360-degree evaluations, allowing subordinates to assess leadership performance with comments and scores. It’s an act of humility — and a sign of strength — to listen and adjust.
“ When feedback is normalized as a tool for growth rather than punishment, leaders model the very coaching they hope their officers will practice. This is how we shape performance, strengthen culture, and ultimately safeguard both our officers and our communities. ”
Conclusion: Elevating the culture
As leaders, we owe our officers feedback that is complete — critical, honest and fair. To offer less is to cheapen engagement, investment and development. We owe them attention, supportive guidance and active mentorship. And we owe them the structure that turns both victories and failures into meaningful lessons.
Taking a note from Sparta, we must crown the courageous and fine the reckless — not out of contradiction, but out of commitment. Commitment to growth. Commitment to discipline. Commitment to the courage and accountability that leadership itself must model. Commitment to shaping not just individual officers, but the culture of the entire department.
If we do it right, we will course-correct the Isidas in all of us — just as my own supervisors did for me when I had my moments of reckless zeal.
Our profession advances when we honor the good, confront the subpar and refuse to let silence speak for us. When we do this consistently, we elevate not only individuals but the organization as a whole. The result is a department — and a profession — tempered by virtue, intention, discipline and grit.
