Stand Upright or Step Aside

Take a minute to think about the phrase, “to serve.” What does it mean to you—not as a slogan, but as a lived reality? What emotion does it stir when you hear it? Honor? Duty? Sacrifice?

During the hiring process for first responders and military service members, the most common question is, “Why do you want to become a ________?” The predictable answers roll out: “to serve my community” or “to serve my country.” Those are cliché answers that aren’t explored enough during the hiring process. So, you get hired, and now you’ve been on the job for several years.

Here’s the uncomfortable question that needs to be asked: Are your actions truly in service of others, or are they in service of yourself? Service is not a bumper sticker or a line to get you through an interview. It’s a standard that demands daily accountability. To serve means putting something greater than yourself ahead of personal gain—and yet too often, the word is used without the weight of its responsibility.

A patrol officer responding to a call for service may need to stay longer than their shift requires because the victim must file an emergency restraining order and find safety in a shelter or with family after suffering extreme abuse—all while doing so without complaint.

A soldier patrolling a hostile village might hear gunshots in the distance, instinctively moving a child behind them for protection. It’s missing birthdays and anniversaries because the mission doesn’t wait for family milestones. It’s choosing restraint when anger would be easier, or stepping into chaos when every survival instinct says to back away. Those aren’t acts of ego—they’re acts of service.

I was a Sergeant in the Army, and part of the NCO Creed is this: “I will not use my grade or position to attain pleasure, profit, or personal safety.” That line ensures service never turns into self-service. The Army Values echo the same truth in Selfless Service: “Put the welfare of the nation, the Army, and your subordinates before your own…without thought of recognition or gain.” These aren’t poetic slogans—they’re warnings, because history shows what happens when leaders forget them.

But we’d be lying to ourselves if we didn’t acknowledge the other side: some chase the badge or the uniform for what it gives them, not what it demands—the authority, the recognition, the sense of importance. When that happens, to serve becomes twisted. It stops being about the people in front of you and becomes about the person in the mirror. When that happens, both the profession and the public suffer.

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Service and Leadership

This is where leadership comes into play. Because service without leadership is just survival, and leadership without service is just control.

Toxic leaders talk about service, but it’s lip service. They stand behind podiums and speak about “the mission” and “the people” while every action reveals it’s really about themselves. They demand obedience for their own benefit, not for the team’s success. They hide behind policies, procedures, and numbers because it’s easier to manage statistics than to lead human beings. Numbers don’t talk back. Spreadsheets don’t question orders. Graphs don’t bring their trauma, fatigue, or family struggles into the office. People do. And real leadership requires stepping into that mess—listening, guiding, mentoring, and sometimes confronting hard truths.

Toxic leaders drown themselves in metrics rather than deal with the reality of human beings under stress. They obsess over clearance rates, response times, or body counts, as if a percentage point can capture the complexity of life-and-death decisions. They comfort themselves with policies because policies feel safe, objective, and clean. But human beings aren’t clean. They bleed, they break, they doubt, and they need leaders who will stand beside them in the dirt—not over them with a clipboard.

That’s the trap of managerial leadership—it makes leaders think they’re doing their job because the charts look good, while morale collapses, trust evaporates, and their best people quietly walk out the door. Numbers can measure output, but they can’t measure loyalty, courage, or the will to keep going when everything hurts. Only leadership can do that.

When rank is treated as a crown instead of a responsibility, leaders start believing they’re entitled to loyalty rather than responsible for earning it. When rank becomes more important than the mission, the profession rots from the inside out. The uniform becomes a shield for ego. Leaders stop taking risks for their people and start calculating risks for their careers. Instead of lifting their people up, they drain them. Instead of shielding their teams from politics, they weaponize politics against them—choosing the path that makes them look good in front of city hall, command, or the media, while throwing subordinates under the bus.

The cost is devastating. Good officers leave, not because the job is too hard, but because the leadership is too weak. Good soldiers burn out, not because the mission is impossible, but because the chain of command makes it unbearable. Communities lose the kind of public servants they can trust, not because those men and women stopped caring, but because toxic leadership ground them down until there was nothing left to give.

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Authentic Leadership

Authentic leadership stands in contrast. Marcus Aurelius once said, “It is the responsibility of leadership to stand upright, not be kept upright by others.” True leaders don’t cling to their position—they serve it. They see rank not as privilege but as weight, a burden to be carried for the benefit of others. They don’t measure success by numbers on a report, but by the growth and resilience of their people. They understand that leadership means standing in front when it’s dangerous, walking beside when it’s tough, and stepping behind when it’s time to give credit.

Toxic leaders consume. Authentic leaders invest. One leaves the organization hollow; the other leaves it stronger than they found it.

True service and authentic leadership cost something. They demand time, energy, and parts of yourself you’ll never get back. They cost sleep, because your phone never really turns off, and your mind never fully rests. They cost comfort, because real service demands you step into situations most people spend their lives avoiding. They cost pieces of your personal life that can never be recovered—missed birthdays, anniversaries, and the quiet, ordinary moments with family that others take for granted.

Anyone who has deployed, worked nights, or walked a beat knows this truth: service means you will carry scars, both visible and invisible. Some are written on your body. Others live silently in your mind. They surface in the middle of the night, in the silence after the call, or in the quiet drive home when no one else is around. They remind you that service is never free.

It also means you’ll sometimes give more to strangers than to your own family. You’ll kneel in the street, holding the hand of someone you’ve never met, fighting to keep them alive, while your family waits at home. You’ll invest hours mentoring a young officer or soldier because you know the job will eat them alive if you don’t—while your own kids wonder why Mom or Dad is late again. Service demands that cruel math, where your duty to many outweighs your desire to be present for a few.

And the most brutal truth? Service means you’ll feel the weight of decisions long after the paperwork is done. The ink may dry, but the memory doesn’t fade. You’ll replay the calls where you couldn’t do enough, the missions where the cost was too high, the choices where someone else’s fate rested on your shoulders. Authentic service leaves marks that don’t wash off and don’t disappear when the uniform comes off.

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The Paradox of Service

Here’s the paradox: the scars, sleepless nights, and missed moments are also the proof. Proof that you gave. Proof that you lived your oath. Proof that you carried a burden others couldn’t. That’s what separates true service from empty slogans.

Philosophers and warriors alike have wrestled with this reality. Marcus Aurelius warned against chasing glory instead of virtue. Musashi wrote that the way of the warrior is found in death, accepting sacrifice as the price of duty. Lao Tzu taught that “the highest virtue is not virtuous,” meaning that true service is quiet, humble, and unannounced. It doesn’t seek recognition. It doesn’t seek applause. It just is.

Even Nietzsche, often misunderstood, reminded us that service requires strength: “He who has a why to live can bear almost any how.” The why of service is what carries you through nights of doubt, scars of combat, and the endless weight of responsibility. Without that why, service collapses into self-service.

So, ask yourself again: when you say, “to serve,” who are you really serving?

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Ayman is a combat veteran and seasoned law enforcement leader with over 20 years of operational experience. He served in Iraq as a U.S. Army soldier and translator during the height of the war against Al-Qaeda, gaining firsthand exposure to combat stress and leadership under fire.

In law enforcement, Ayman has worked in diverse high-risk roles including SWAT, DEA Task Force Officer, DEA SRT, plain clothes interdiction, and currently serves as a patrol sergeant. His experience offers deep insight into the physical and psychological demands faced by tactical professionals.

Ayman holds a Master of Science in Counterterrorism (MSC) and is the founder of Project Sapient, a platform dedicated to enhancing performance and resilience through neuroscience, stress physiology, and data-driven training. Through consulting, podcasting, and partnerships with organizations across the country, Project Sapient equips military, law enforcement, and first responders with tools to thrive in high-stress environments.

Follow Project Sapient on Instagram, YouTube, and all podcast platforms for engaging content. Feel free to email Ayman at ayman@projectsapient.com.

Follow Project Sapient on Instagram, YouTube, and all podcast platforms for engaging content.

Contact: ayman@objectivearete.com

Project Sapient: https://projectsapient.com/

YouTube: https://www.youtube.com/channel/UC8cO-sLPMpfkrvnjcM8ukUQ

As the Voice of the Veteran Community, The Havok Journal seeks to publish a variety of perspectives on a number of sensitive subjects. Unless specifically noted otherwise, nothing we publish is an official point of view of The Havok Journal or any part of the U.S. government.