People at the Core of Every Crisis: How Strong Teams Survive the Test

In my previous exploration of organizational entropy, I wrote about how companies naturally drift toward disorder. Misaligned teams, bloated processes, and unattended decisions accumulate like sediment. This got me thinking about what happens when crisis strikes:

💡 Entropy doesn’t just continue its steady march, it accelerates.

My husband and I usually find a trail every weekend, pack our bags and make our way into nature. One such weekend, we chose to tackle the Grand Canyon Trek in the Blue Mountains, a challenging but rewarding hike that locals call "the Grand Canyon Walk." What I didn’t expect was that this five, hour journey would become a live laboratory for observing how systems break down under pressure.

When Entropy Accelerates

We prepared well for the trek, researched the route, packed wisely.

The trail had its own plan. We encountered sharp inclines, loose gravel, and descents that no guidebook warned us about.

This is entropy in action. In normal conditions, loose gravel is manageable. But in crisis, that same gravel becomes an avalanche.

In business, a supply chain hiccup becomes paralysis when layered over a liquidity crunch. A small miscommunication becomes high stakes when decisions must land in hours, not weeks. A poorly handled customer issue or viral complaint can trigger a full, blown PR crisis that undermines months of goodwill.

While it's impossible to catch every curveball, teams can be trained to respond faster than the fallout.

💡 In a fast shifting crisis, responsiveness matters more than scripts.

The Human Antidote to Chaos

A couple of hours in, we hit a false summit. By hour three, we were low on food and water. That’s when people made the difference. My hiking partner matched my slower pace, offered water, and stayed with me step by step.

In a crisis, it’s not the hero racing ahead who saves the day. It’s the team that moves in synchrony.

I’ve seen it up close. A marketing head stepped far outside his brief to help protect and reposition the business. HR partnered with communications to shape messaging during intense public scrutiny. Senior leaders adapted quickly, stepping into legal, operational, or technical domains to fill urgent gaps. These weren’t just reactions, they were role reinventions.

Crisis doesn’t care about job descriptions. It shows who can stretch, who can step up, and who can solve. And more often than not, it’s the ones you least expect.

In real crisis conditions, shared leadership doesn’t need to be appointed, it emerges. Someone steps in when the decision maker is overwhelmed. Another spots a risk before it explodes.

💡 Empowering that kind of distributed authority isn’t just efficient, it’s survival.

Overcommunication Is Oxygen

On that trail, check-ins weren’t just small talk. "How are you feeling?" "Need water?" "We’re close, let's keep moving." These were lifelines.

In an organisational crisis, communication is not just a tool, it’s a cultural muscle. Either you’ve built it beforehand, or you’re exposed without it.

Silence breeds speculation. Withholding clarity erodes trust. The teams that hold together talk early, talk often, and don’t wait for perfect answers to begin.

The best crisis communication culture is one where overcommunication feels normal, not reactive. Where people are used to being in the loop and invited to speak before being told.

💡 Overcommunication isn’t noise, it’s oxygen.

Crisis Is a Canvas: Where Creative Leadership Comes Alive

Here’s the uncomfortable truth: your years of domain expertise might not help when the rules change overnight.

My husband is a disciplined and fit person, someone who trains regularly and is used to physical exertion. But even he struggled on the canyon's uneven terrain. My carefully laid plan didn’t account for every twist.

In a crisis, leadership doesn’t always look like decisiveness. Sometimes it looks like curiosity. Improvisation. Making a system out of what’s left on the floor.

Creative leadership is not soft. It’s survival. It asks: What else could this be? What haven’t we tried? What’s still usable?

💡 The most valuable people aren’t always the ones with answers, they’re the ones willing to ask new questions and build forward from the rubble.

The Cognitive Cost of Chaos

By the final stretch, every muscle in my body ached, but what wore me down most was the mental fatigue. The constant recalibration. The lack of certainty.

Mental entropy compounds everything. When leaders are mentally exhausted, they default to old playbooks even when they no longer apply. They make rushed decisions that accelerate breakdown.

Sustaining a team through prolonged crises isn’t just about stamina. It’s about preserving clarity. That starts with you. If you’re leading a team through crisis, you have to protect your own energy too.

Take breaks. Delegate. Step back to think. Your team is watching, and your steadiness gives them permission to do the same.

💡 Strategic pauses aren’t weakness, they’re risk mitigation.

Say Thank You While It’s Hard

When my husband slowed down to match my pace, when he shared water without me asking, those moments mattered. They kept me going.

In organisations, we often wait until the postmortem to recognise effort. But it’s during the storm that gratitude matters most.

A quick "thank you" to the person who stayed late. A direct message to the one who held up morale.

💡 These aren’t soft gestures, they're the emotional fuel that keeps people from burning out.

Resilience Isn’t a Personality Trait

We often think resilience is about "being tough." But it’s really about continuing without guarantees.

There was a moment on that trail where we had no idea how far we had left. The light was fading. There was no triumphant end in sight. Only the next step.

That’s what crisis leadership is. Making the next decision with imperfect information. Moving forward even when the plan has fallen apart.

💡 The most resilient teams don’t wait for clarity, they create it, together.

💬 In the end, surviving the canyon, and the crisis, wasn’t about heroics. It was about human connection, shared grit, and the quiet courage to keep moving forward. That’s the kind of leadership we need more of. Especially when the ground gives way.