Finding Moral Courage in Difficult Times
- By Françoise Mathieu
Last updated: January 14, 2026
Earlier this year, I was at a trauma conference, sitting with a group of agency leaders.
We were between sessions, catching up over coffee, when something surreal happened: every phone on the table lit up almost at once. It was an urgent directive issued by their government and immediate, non-negotiable changes needed to be made to their online resources. The room emptied in seconds.
Later, privately, a few of my colleagues told me what that moment actually felt like: it was a gut-punch. They felt trapped between the requirements of the order and the risk of losing all their funding, and the reality of the vulnerable communities their agencies were built to serve.
For leaders of agencies working with children and other at-risk groups, it is essential that any publicly shared information be accurate, practical, and evidence-informed. But since their agencies are government-funded, these professionals also carry the responsibility of adapting quickly when funding guidelines or political motivations shift.
Crises like this demand careful assessment: how do we stay true to the purpose of our work while responding to what is being asked of us? When might internal advocacy be needed to make sure essential services and ethical, person-centered care are preserved? Thinking back to that moment at the conference, I keep returning to the same question: what are our options in the face of mounting tension between policy and practice?
I have spent much of much of my career exploring ways to address moral distress in our field. After the conference, I started digging into the research and came across the concept of ‘moral courage.’ It finally gave me a way to talk about the path forward. Although I am not an ethicist, I am a trauma professional who has spent years listening to professionals describe how the realities of their roles can wear away at their sense of integrity and moral clarity.
My hope here is to offer a few ideas that might help during some of the more difficult stretches of your career.
What is moral distress?
I am sure that you can think of examples in your own work where you were given a new rule, mandate, or policy and you immediately thought: “this is B.S.”
How do we know if we’re experiencing moral distress? My colleague and dear friend Diana Tikasz encourages us to tune into moments that cause a “yuck factor” – the contraction that happens in our body, that sinking feeling in our gut, or an overall sense of deflation when you are required to do (or not do) something, and inside you think: “this is NOT okay.”
Moral distress refers to situations where rules, regulations, laws, or procedures prevent you from acting in line with your core beliefs. It has been described as “when one knows the right thing to do, but institutional constraints make it nearly impossible to pursue the right course of action” (Jameton, 1984).
Examples of this might include having to deny services due to a lack of resources, navigating strict eligibility policies, or being unable to provide support because of rigid intake criteria. Experiencing a certain amount of moral distress over the course of your career is inevitable in our type of work – you’d have to be remarkably indifferent to avoid it.
Yet, acknowledging the distress isn’t enough; we need a framework to navigate it. In my search for a way to bridge the gap between our ethical obligations and these systemic pressures, I found Kidder’s work on moral courage. It gives us a way to keep going when what we’re being told to do doesn’t line up with why we do this work.
Moral courage: holding steady ground
In his 2005 book, Moral Courage, Rushworth M. Kidder defines the concept as ‘standing up for values and principles when there is something to lose’.
If you work in a high-stakes environment, you know how quickly decisions that are made far above your role can shape your day-to-day work and the lives of the people you serve. Whether it’s a provincial, state, federal, professional, or organizational level change, we can probably all think of a time when external factors created situations that felt untenable and morally wrong.
I invite you to think of moments in your own work that felt morally challenging. Here are a few examples:
- Jing Mei, a front-line worker in social services, is instructed to use a revised script during intake. Although this script technically meets all current standards, in practice it feels abrupt with individuals who are already distressed.
- Benson is a supervisor who has been told to limit eligibility for a program due to new funding criteria. He understands the rationale but is also aware that this will exclude many vulnerable individuals with significant needs.
- Amrit works in developmental services and has been instructed to reduce the length of support sessions due to workload pressures. They comply but feel uneasy ending conversations abruptly with individuals who are in visible distress.
- Maribel works with victims of crime in the local prosecutor’s office. She notices repeated decisions that align with policy but seem at odds with the intent of trauma-informed practice.
How do we navigate these situations while preserving our sense of professional and personal integrity?
Now, I want to be very clear: showing moral courage is not about doing something illegal. It is not about ignoring mandates, breaching professional standards, or failing to follow procedures. While there is a time and place for other forms of protest, that is not what we are discussing here.
This isn’t an invitation to simply walk away, either. As author Cheryl Richardson (1999) said: “do not confuse difficult choices with no choice.” Moral courage is about finding what lies between doing nothing and taking high-cost actions.
But before we go further into exploring moral courage, I want to take a brief detour and talk about our nervous systems: yours, mine, the people we serve, and yes, even our elected officials.
Are we really living through "unprecedented times?”
Let’s all take a nice, deep breath.
Situations that call for moral courage are not new. If you are a student of history, if you speak with elders, or if you have talked with those who have lived through community crises, you know this is not the first hard time we have faced. Nor will it be the last.
I don’t say this to minimize what’s happening right now, but we can’t let our nervous systems hijack the room. When that happens, we lose the one thing we actually need – the capacity to think clearly.
When we’re in high-alarm mode, our brains stop being able to process. Outrage and indignation may be vital signals that something is wrong, but they make for a terrible GPS. They can tell us where we are, but they won’t help us find the way out.
I wrote about this trap extensively during the pandemic – the risk of falling into what Humphreys (2021) called ‘pandemic amnesia.’ When we treat a crisis as if it is the first of its kind, our learning stalls. We forget to look to the mentors and elders who survived their own ‘impossible’ years and figured out how to stay grounded.
Moral courage is about settling our bodies enough to get out of that ‘fight-or-flight’ fog. Once we can breathe, we can actually use that anger as fuel for something useful, rather than just burning out.
The basic qualities of moral courage
Kidder (2005) describes five qualities that support moral courage:
- Integrity: Acting in alignment with your values.
- Honour: Holding yourself to a standard of fairness and truthfulness.
- Responsibility: Recognizing when something needs attention and being willing to carry that forward, even if it is uncomfortable.
- Decency: Choosing respect and humanity in how you approach difficult conversations or decisions.
- Compassion: Staying connected to the people affected by those decisions, including yourself.
Although they may seem like abstract concepts, these can become everyday practices: we can integrate them in how we make decisions, communicate, and how we show up for others during challenging times. We do not need all of these qualities at every moment. Most of us will draw on one or two, depending on the situation.
How can we put them into practice within the very real constraints of our day-to-day work?
Six steps to cultivate moral courage
When Kidder’s work is layered over what we know about ethical decision-making, it creates a practical framework for navigating these constrained systems. It’s a way to move through the ‘yuck’ without losing our professional footing. These steps can be applied to the systemic hurdles mentioned earlier, or to any situation where the right path forward feels blocked.
Step 1: Name the Distress
Notice the yuck factor and put words to it. What exactly feels off or misaligned with your values? Even when you cannot act yet, naming the tension is the first act of moral courage.
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Jing-Mei: “This script meets standards, but it feels abrupt and out of step with our commitment to trauma-informed practice.”
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Benson: “These criteria exclude people with significant needs and feel out of step with our mission.”
Step 2: The practice of “quiet courage”
Look for one small, value-aligned step that is still within your role and the rules. For example, if you are required to use a script in your work, you might soften abrupt language while keeping the required content. Or perhaps you keep a detailed journal of specific cases or events in your work that concern you.
Quiet courage is the small-scale effort of staying true to our values when the rules are outside of our control.
Jing-Mei:Gently adjusts her tone and adds one brief validating sentence while staying within the required script.
Benson: Begins documenting specific cases that are being turned away and why it concerns him.
Step 3: Strengthen solidarity
Moral courage grows in community. Check in with trusted others so you are not carrying this alone. Solidarity is about reducing isolation and, when it makes sense, standing alongside others who share your concern.
Jing-Mei: Checks in with one or two colleagues to see if they are noticing the same discomfort with the script.
Benson:Connects with other supervisors to see if they are seeing the same pattern.
Step 4: Use ethical channels strategically
When you see a pattern, consider how and when to raise it through existing structures. For example, you might bring a few anonymized examples to a supervisor, ethics committee, or team meeting and ask for guidance.
The point isn’t to fight every battle. It’s about being strategic by using formal channels only when they actually have the power to fix the problem or get you a straight answer on what’s expected.
Jing-Mei: Presents two or three concrete client examples to a supervisor and ask if there is room for minor revisions.
Benson:Submits a short summary of impacts and examples to the relevant director or committee and ask about possible flexibilities.
Step 5: Invest in values clarity
Return to your North Star and to the stated values of your organization. What are you trying to protect? You might ask: “what helps me feel I had a good, solid day at work? Which compromises feel tolerable, and which cross a line?”
When we’re clear on our values, we stop second-guessing our gut. It helps us name exactly what’s wrong so we can explain our concerns in a way that others can actually hear.
Jing-Mei: Links her concern to stated agency values such as dignity, respect, and safety.
Benson: Grounds the conversation in stated program values and goals, and names the tension clearly.
Step 6: Support change from within
If you have power, tenure, privilege, or social capital, consider how you can use it think about how to use that influence without burning yourself out. For example, you might join a working group, help test a small change, back a junior colleague who has raised a concern, or share data that highlights impact.
Jing-Mei: Offers to help pilot a slightly revised version of the script and share short feedback from staff and clients.
Benson: Offers to help explore options such as alternate pathways, a waitlist, or a small exception process for highest-need cases.
This same six-step approach can be adapted for Amrit and Maribel (and your situation) in ways that best fit roles and workplaces.
Keep in mind: you do not have to fix the whole system on your own. Moral courage is really just about holding onto yourself and your integrity, knowing you weren’t meant to do it alone, especially when everything feels so shaky.
Build your bridge and start walking
Kidder (2005) describes moral courage as “the bridge between talking ethics and doing ethics.” It’s a powerful definition, but in the middle of a workday, stepping onto that bridge can feel terrifying. That’s when big theories fail us. What we actually need are the small, grounded things that bring us back to who we are.
Recently, I was walking in the woods with my closest friend who lives in the United States. She is a passionate amateur birder, whereas I can barely tell the difference between a cardinal and a blue jay. I pointed one out, trying to sound like I knew what I was talking about: “Oh, look, a beautiful little female chickadee!”
She turned to me, looking completely dismayed: “Good grief, Françoise, that’s a sparrow! What are you talking about? To give you an idea – if like me, you don’t know much about birds – it was a bit like me pointing at a German Shepherd and saying: “Oh, look at that lovely little poodle!”
We burst out laughing. It was a perfect, ridiculous reminder that sometimes we just need to get out of our own heads. Those are the moments that actually recalibrate us. They remind us why we do this work: for the authentic connections we make, and for the common humanity that binds us to one another.
Conclusion
Have you had a “belle rencontre” lately? In Quebec, we use this phrase to describe those unexpected moments of connection – whether it’s a quick conversation with a stranger or an exchange with someone whose resilience gave you goosebumps. It’s the kind of moment that reminds us of the incredible strength people are capable of.
When the system feels heavy and your heart is no longer in it, let that memory be your anchor. Let that connection steady you. There is a quiet bravery in the simple act of refusing to lose our way.
References
American Association of Critical Care Nurses. (n.d.). Moral distress in nursing: What you need to know. https://www.aacn.org/clinical-resources/moral-distress
Davis, M. (1999). Ethics and the university. Routledge.
Humphreys, O. (2021, November 12). Why do we commemorate wars but not pandemics? CBC Ideas. https://www.cbc.ca/radio/ideas/why-do-we-commemorate-wars-but-not-pandemics-1.6246133
Jameton, A. (1984). Nursing practice: The ethical issues. Prentice-Hall.
Kidder, R. M. (2005). Moral courage: Taking action when your values are put to the test. William Morrow.
Richardson, C. (1999). Take time for your life: A 7-step program for creating the life you want. Harmony.
Sidgwick, H. (1981). The methods of ethics (7th ed.). Hackett. (Original work published 1907)
3 thoughts on “Finding Moral Courage in Difficult Times”
Thank you for this . It has been very helpful and supportive and enlightening. Good information to share with my work colleagues.
Thank you for the information. Very good reading material for all care givers working in government or professional areas. Must read for all. Take care everyone and be safe.
Françoise, I am so glad I took the time to read this. We can all learn to look to our North Star. And remind ourselves why we are here.