ACCOUNTABILITY

CALLING THEM UP, NOT CALLING THEM OUT

In 23 years as a Marine—22 in Special Operations—I learned one truth: accountability is an act of care, not criticism. Most people get it wrong. They think it's about calling someone out, pointing fingers, and enforcing rules. That's not accountability. That's punishment. Real accountability is calling someone up. Calling them back. Back to the mission. Back to the team. Back to who they said they want to be. You're not the enforcer. You're the reminder.

ACCOUNTABILITY STARTS WITH YOU

Before you hold anyone else accountable, hold yourself accountable. Look in the mirror: Am I meeting the standard? Am I doing what I said I would do? Self-reflection is hard. It requires honesty. But without it, you have no credibility. Once you've held yourself accountable, you earn the right to hold others accountable. And here's the key: you do it because you care about them. You care about the outcome. You care about the team.

Finally, be coachable. Accountability is two-way. If you hold others accountable, be willing to be held accountable yourself. Listen when someone calls you up. Adjust when someone calls you back. The best leaders I served with were the most coachable.

THE COST OF SILENCE: A STORY FROM SPECIAL OPERATIONS

We were doing elevator lifts for parachuting—training for deployment. The helicopter takes you up, you jump, it lands, picks you back up, and you go again. Multiple jumps in one day. We started slick—just a parachute. Then weapons. Then, combat equipment. Finally, oxygen, simulating 30,000 feet.

Procedures are always the same. We practice them relentlessly because at altitude, there's no time to think. You fall back on training. We check altimeters as we climb: one finger at 1,000 feet, two at 2,000. At 2,500 feet, we rehearse emergency procedures—practice pulling the ripcord. Simple, but critical.

With oxygen, the hose can be confused with the ripcord. Without muscle memory, you can make a fatal mistake. A Senior Staff Sergeant was jumping with us. Experienced. Confident. When younger Marines went over emergency procedures at 2,500 feet, he made fun of them. "Are you scared?" he laughed. Nobody said anything.

The younger Marines went through their procedures. The Staff Sergeant didn't. He thought he was above it. No one held him accountable. Not after the first jump. Not after the second. Not after the third. We wanted to say something, but he was senior. He wouldn't listen. So we stayed silent.

On the last jump, we exited with full gear and oxygen. I pulled my ripcord at 4,000 feet. I looked down and saw another parachute falling—a low pull. I kept watching. It never opened. I tracked him as I descended. Still falling. No main chute. No reserve. Just a body accelerating toward the ground. I hit my toggles hard, trying to get down faster. Maybe there was time. Maybe the reserve would deploy. Maybe I was wrong about what I was seeing. I wasn't wrong. The sound when he impacted—you don't forget that. It's not like the movies. It's quieter. Duller. Final. As I landed and cut away my chute, I could see the ambulances already moving.

They knew before they got there. We all knew. At terminal velocity, there's no surviving. The medical personnel ran anyway. Checked for vitals. Went through the motions. But he was gone before they ever reached him. The Staff Sergeant had confused his oxygen hose with his ripcord. He never pulled his main parachute. His reserve never deployed. He died doing the same thing he'd done a hundred times before—because this one time, he didn't follow the procedures. He died because he didn't practice. And he didn't practice because nobody held him accountable. We all failed him. Every single one of us. We cared more about avoiding an uncomfortable conversation than we cared about his life. We let rank and experience intimidate us into silence. That silence killed him.

CALLING THEM BACK: When you hold someone accountable, you're calling them back to something.

BACK TO THE MISSION

What did we agree we were trying to accomplish? What standard did we set? When someone falls short, call them back to the mission. In Special Operations, the mission was clear: bring everyone home alive. When someone skipped procedures, they jeopardized the mission. Calling them back wasn't about being strict. It was about survival. In athletics, the mission might be winning a championship. When a player skips conditioning or film study, call them back to it. In business, the mission might be delivering a product launch on time. When a team member misses deadlines or skips quality checks, you're not micromanaging. You're calling them back to what the team committed to accomplish.

BACK TO THE TEAM

When one person doesn't meet the standard, it affects everyone. When one person gets a pass, the standard drops for everyone. In that helicopter, the younger Marines were doing their procedures. But when the Senior Staff Sergeant made fun of them, he undermined the team. He created a culture where following procedures was a weakness. And that culture killed him. In a corporate setting, when a senior executive shows up late to meetings or ignores the process everyone else follows, it tells the team that standards are optional. The best people start wondering why they're working so hard. Resentment builds. Performance drops. On a team, when your star player doesn't show up for early morning workouts, the role players notice. They start cutting corners, too. The culture you built starts to crack. When you hold someone accountable, you protect the team. You protect the culture.

BACK TO WHO THEY SAID THEY WANT TO BE

You're not imposing your standards—you're holding them to their own standards. You're reminding them of who they said they wanted to be. Every athlete says they want to be great. Every employee says they want to contribute. Every executive says they want to lead. When they fall short, you're not attacking them. You're reminding them of their own commitment. "You told me you wanted to lead this division. But when you don't prepare for client meetings, you're not that person. I'm holding you accountable because I believe you can be that person." "You said you wanted to be a starter. But when you skip film study, you're not preparing like a starter. I'm calling you back to who you said you wanted to be." That's not criticism. That's care.

CORPORATE EXAMPLES: WHEN SILENCE HAS A COST

The cost isn't always as visible as a parachute that doesn't open. But it's real. A VP of Sales consistently misses forecast meetings. The team notices. They start thinking their forecasts don't matter either. Accuracy drops. The CFO can't plan. The company misses its numbers. Investors lose confidence. A project manager doesn't follow the quality assurance process. The team sees it. They start skipping steps, too—a defective product ships. Customer trust erodes. The company's reputation takes a hit that takes years to repair. An executive doesn't respond to emails or meet deadlines, but nobody says anything because of their title. The team learns that accountability only flows downward. The best performers leave for companies where standards apply to everyone. The cost of silence in corporate America: lost revenue, damaged reputation, good people walking out the door.

ATHLETIC EXAMPLES: WHEN SHORTCUTS BECOME HABIT

A starting quarterback skips film study. The coaches don't say anything because they need him for Saturday's game. He misses a coverage read. The team loses—the season derails. A star player shows up late to practice. Nobody holds her or him accountable because she or he is the leading scorer. Other players notice. They start showing up late, too. The culture of discipline you built disappears. An experienced athlete doesn't follow the strength and conditioning protocol. The trainer sees it but stays quiet because the athlete is a senior. Then a preventable injury happens. The season is over. The cost of silence in athletics: injuries, losses, broken culture, wasted potential.

HOW TO HOLD SOMEONE ACCOUNTABLE

1. PRIVATE, NOT PUBLIC - One-on-one. Public humiliation builds resentment, not accountability.

2. START WITH CARE - "I'm having this conversation because I care about you and this team."

3. STATE THE STANDARD - Be specific. "We agreed all executives would submit their reports by Friday at noon. You've missed the deadline three weeks in a row."

4. ASK FOR THEIR PERSPECTIVE - Give them space to explain. Listen.

5. CALL THEM BACK - "We need you. You told me you wanted to lead this department. I'm calling you back to that. What do you need from me?"

6. AGREE ON THE PATH FORWARD - What changes? Get agreement.

7. FOLLOW UP - Check in. Reinforce. Celebrate improvement.

THE COST OF SILENCE

In Special Operations, the cost was clear: someone died. In your world, the cost might not be as visible. But it's real. Athletes who aren't held accountable don't reach their potential. They develop bad habits. They learn that standards don't matter. Employees who aren't held accountable disengage. They drag down the team. Culture erodes. Results suffer. Executives who aren't held accountable create toxic cultures where rules only apply to some people. The best talent leaves. The company stagnates. The cost of not holding each other accountable is always higher than the discomfort of the conversation.

MUTUAL ACCOUNTABILITY

If you hold others accountable, be coachable yourself. Be willing to hear feedback. Be willing to be held accountable. The best teams I served on had mutual accountability. We held each other to the same standard—regardless of rank or experience. If I saw a teammate cutting corners, I called them up. If they saw me cutting corners, they called me up. That's the culture you want. Not a culture where the coach enforces, and everyone else is passive. Not a culture where the CEO holds people accountable but nobody can hold the CEO accountable. But a culture where everyone holds each other accountable because everyone cares. Build it by modeling it. Invite feedback. Thank people when they hold you accountable. Show your team that accountability isn't punishment—it's care. In the corporate world, this means the CEO asks for feedback from their direct reports. The VP asks the manager what they could do better. The manager creates space for the team to call them up when they fall short. In athletics, this means the head coach asks the assistants where they can improve. The team captains hold each other accountable. The veteran players call up the coaching staff when something isn't working.

CALL THEM UP

Accountability is calling someone up to the standard, to their potential, to who they said they wanted to be. When they fall short, call them back. Back to the mission. Back to the team. Back to who they said they want to be. Do this because you care. Because the outcome matters. Because the team matters. Because they matter. In that helicopter, we failed to hold that Staff Sergeant accountable. We cared more about avoiding discomfort than we cared about his life. We let his rank intimidate us into silence. It cost him everything. I think about that jump every time I'm tempted to stay quiet. Every time I tell myself someone won't listen. Every time I convince myself it's not my place to say something. That's the lie that kills. The lie that someone else will say something. The lie that it's not our responsibility. The lie that one conversation doesn't matter. It matters. Don't make that mistake. Hold your people accountable. Have the difficult conversations. Care enough to call them up. Care enough to call them back. When you do, you're not just enforcing a standard. You're protecting your team. You're building a culture. You're saving lives—sometimes literally, always figuratively. We are warriors in every situation. Leaders at every opportunity. Leadership is nothing more than a moment in time when one person decides to change the outcome. That decision is always tied to accountability. Mission First. Team Always.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

James (Jamey) Slife served 23 years in the United States Marine Corps, including 22 years in Special Operations as a Scout Sniper, Reconnaissance Marine, and communications expert with JSOC, MARSOC, and Naval Special Warfare. He completed five combat deployments and was awarded the Bronze Star. Today, as a founding member of Warrior Mindset LLC, Jamey works with Division I athletic programs and Fortune 500 companies, teaching leadership principles forged in the world's most demanding environments. Married 31 years, father of two sons.