The Subtle Moral Injuries of the Workplace
On how moral injury shows up in everyday life and what it takes to begin healing.
I recently came across the term moral injury. It intrigued me, and I’ve been thinking about what it means, and where it shows up. At first, I thought it only arises in moments of impossible choice, when people are forced to act against their conscience. But the more I reflected, the more I realised that moral injury also happens quietly, every day. In our offices, meetings, and inboxes. Especially in the spaces where our work is grounded in values, where morals and principles are not abstract ideas, but the very reason we do what we do.
In my view, moral injury occurs when you know something isn’t right; when you know a principle is being ignored, a colleague is treated unfairly, or a decision is made for politics rather than ethics. When relationships are sacrificed for compliance, and there’s nothing you can do about it. It’s not loud. It’s subtle. These are the small fractures that slowly eat away at the soul.
“Healing begins with naming it. With saying: This is not just stress. This is moral injury”
It looks like this:
• Seeing values displayed on the wall but not lived in decisions.
• Being told to “be strategic” when you raise an ethical concern.
• Watching compassion replaced by compliance.
• Being asked to protect funding at the cost of justice.
• Staying silent to survive.
Each of these moments leaves a mark. Over time, they accumulate, not as burnout, but as heartbreak. The slow erosion of meaning. The quiet grief of witnessing the gap between what we say and what we do.
For those of us in mission-driven work, the pain cuts deeper because the work is personal. When values are betrayed, it’s not just a professional disappointment, it’s a spiritual wound.
Healing begins with naming it. With saying: This is not just stress. This is moral injury.
And with finding others who see it too, those who refuse to turn away.
Because moral injury thrives in silence.
And it begins to heal in truth.