Why Your "Yes" Scares Me

(And Why I Need a Tenth Man)

You don’t have to be a member of the Academy to appreciate World War Z. You don’t even have to like zombie movies. But you do need to know the concept that movie burned into the corporate subconscious: The “Tenth Man Rule”.

It’s based on real Israeli intelligence protocols (or at least, the Hollywood version of them). The rule is simple: If nine people in a room agree on a strategy, the tenth person has a mandatory duty to disagree.

Even if the dissent seems crazy. Even if it seems unlikely. The Tenth Man has to assume the other nine are wrong to prevent the kind of groupthink that gets you eaten by zombies.

Now, as an engineering and data leader, I build products, and I generally don’t have to worry about zombies. Well, except for that one legacy codebase we’re all afraid to touch, but that’s a different horror story.

But I do have product launches. I have market shifts. And mostly, I have blind spots.

And here is the honest, slightly terrifying truth I don’t usually say in All-Hands meetings:

When 100% of you nod at my strategy, I don’t feel supported. I feel unprotected.

The Nightmare of the Polite Meeting

In the past years, the scariest meetings I sat in weren’t the ones with shouting matches (and I love heated debates, it shows we care, but that’s a story for a different time). They were the ones with silence.

You know the ones. I present a roadmap that is clearly aggressive, maybe a little delusional. I look around the table.

Nod. Nod. Nod. “Looks good.” “We can do it.”

I walk out of those meetings sweating.

Why? Because, in these type of meetings, it shows that I live on top of the Iceberg of Ignorance.

That’s a real study, by the way. Sidney Yoshida ran it. The data says that senior leaders only see about 4% of the actual problems on the ground.

Granted, my doubts on the 4% number. And I see dashboards, WBRs beyond just the strategy decks and the P&Ls.

That said, let’s assume - you live in the 96%. You see the line of code that produces technical debt, the API latency that could cripple a tier-1 service, the client and customers grumbling, and the fact that the “simple migration” I just pitched is actually going to require rewriting the entire backend.

If you stay silent to be polite, or to be a “good soldier,” you aren’t validating my genius. You are letting me steer the ship into an iceberg I literally cannot see because I’m standing on the bridge looking at the clouds.

Be My Sonar, Not My Echo

I don’t need an echo chamber. I can get an echo chamber by talking to myself in the shower.

What I need is Sonar.

An echo just repeats what I said: “Course looks good, Captain.” (This feels nice for my ego, briefly, until we sink).

Sonar pings back the hard truth: “Obstruction ahead. Turn hard starboard or we die.” (This creates friction. It’s annoying. It saves the ship).

So, how do you be the Sonar without getting fired for being “negative”? You have to learn the art of the Strategic No.

Here are three ways to tell me I’m wrong that will actually make me love you.

1. The Time Traveler (The Pre-Mortem)

I usually suffer from “optimism bias.” I love my plan. It’s my baby.

Don’t tell me “This is risky.” I’ll get defensive.

Instead, be a time traveler. Say this:

“Let’s assume it’s six months from now and this launch failed. What broke?”

Now we aren’t arguing about my idea. We are solving a hypothetical puzzle. You shift me from “Defending My Ego” to “Fixing the Future.”

2. The Price Tag

I honestly don’t know the true cost of what I’m asking half the time. I just know I want it fast.

Don’t tell me we can’t do it. Tell me the price. And tell me regardless how many times I said I hated the word LOEs.

“We can hit that aggressive deadline, but the ‘price’ is skipping the data validation layer. If the source schema changes, the entire pipeline crashes. Are you willing to buy that risk?”

See what you did there? You didn’t block me. You became my financial advisor. You gave me the agency to decide if the speed is worth the cost. (Spoiler: It usually isn’t) (And our Product leaders are usually doing way better than Engineering/Science leaders on this - oh the empathy).

3. The Recommendation

Don’t just drop a problem on my desk. Bring a shovel so we can dig our way out.

If you’re going to shoot down my plan, you need to have a Point of View on where to go next.

“The timeline is tight. I recommend we cut Feature Z to ensure stability. Here is the draft plan.”

That proves you aren’t just a ticket-taker. You’re an owner.

The “Safe Word”

Now, there is a catch.

Amazon and Netflix made “Disagree and Commit“ famous. It’s a great corporate slogan, but it can feel a little cold.

Here is how I translate it: The Audit vs. The March.

Before the decision is made, we are in the Audit Phase. I need you to tear it apart. Be the Tenth Man. If you stay silent here, you are failing the team.

But once the decision is made? We switch to the March Phase. We stop auditing. We start rowing.

The most valuable thing you can say to a leader is this:

“I’ve flagged the risks, I’ve told you the cost, but now that you’ve made the call, I’m going to make this work.”

That isn’t submission. That is professional agility.

Silence is Suspicious

Here is the bottom line.

When I hire smart people, I’m not paying for their compliance. I’m paying for their friction.

If we are in a room and we all agree, then most of us are redundant.

So tomorrow, look around your next meeting. If it feels too comfortable, if the nods are too automatic... that is your cue.

Be the Tenth Man. Be the Sonar.

I don’t need you to cheer me on. I need you to check the instruments.

And BTW, be ready for my follow-up question too - “what do you think?“

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