When the lights went out: leading through chaos in a VUCA world

How a global cyber crisis revealed the true power of human adaptability and leadership

On June 27, 2017, I received a phone call that would change everything. It was around 15:00 CET, and I was in the middle of facilitating a change and crisis management workshop for TNT/FedEx “Integrators” — managers being trained to support operational integration across Europe. Ironically, the topic was change and resilience. Moments later, I was about to live the most defining change and crisis of my career.

The message was simple: shut down your computer immediately. A virus was spreading through TNT’s IT network. I calmly finished the workshop; my facilitation didn’t depend on PowerPoint. But that evening, the real crisis began.

The moment the system died

At 20:00, I received another call — this time from TNT’s European Road Network operations. They were facing chaos at one of our major hubs. Police demanded that the gates be opened: trucks were stacking up on both sides of the highway, with another hundred lined up behind. When the gate opened to avoid a safety disaster, trucks flooded the yard. The system that normally choreographed tens of thousands of shipments had collapsed — and there were no systems left to rely on.

Having been the European Road Network Director for over a decade, I knew the scale and the stakes. Thirteen large hubs and seven medium-sized ones connected 48 countries and 600 depots. We moved 40 million kilos weekly, supported by 40,000 vehicles and 50 aircraft in Europe alone. Everything — from routing and scanning to invoicing and customs — depended on IT. Within two hours, it was all gone. No scanners, no tracking, no sorting software, no communication tools. We were blind.

Later we learned it was NotPetya, a global cyberattack disguised as ransomware, originating from a software update in Ukraine. TNT, being the logistics leader there, became the first victim. Within hours, the virus infected every global system.

The first 24 hours: surviving the unknown

That night, we had a choice: shut down or keep going. In a two-hour worldwide cascade call, we decided to continue — to serve customers with whatever we had. We would go manual.

What followed was pure VUCA: volatility, uncertainty, complexity, and ambiguity in full motion. There was no playbook, no reliable information, and no clear timeline. We were operating in the dark, literally and figuratively.

In those first 24 hours, we rediscovered what leadership truly means. Existing managers froze, paralyzed by the lack of data. Yet new leaders — often supervisors, dispatchers, or drivers — stepped up without hesitation. They saw what needed to be done and acted. One driver, usually quiet, coordinated an entire loading process at a hub because he simply knew the flow by heart. Another employee used his private phone to start a WhatsApp group across three depots, becoming our only functioning communication network in that region.

The first three days: order through chaos

By the second day, hubs were overflowing with undelivered parcels. We began to rebuild the network manually. People who still remembered the pre-digital days were suddenly our greatest assets. We bought stand-alone laptops, whiteboards, walkie-talkies, and printer paper. Routing labels — printed with sort codes — became our compass. Staff learned to trace shipments by reading label codes, reconstructing the route by logic and experience.

We set a rhythm: every two hours, managers and team leaders gathered for short, open feedback sessions — what worked, what didn’t, and what to try next. We redesigned the process continuously, learning faster than ever before.

Not all managers handled this well. Some struggled with the loss of control. They waited for instructions that never came, hoping systems would return. Others thrived. They switched from managing tasks to leading people — connecting, listening, encouraging, improvising. Titles no longer mattered; contribution did. In those moments, leadership wasn’t assigned — it was earned.

How leadership evolved under pressure

Crisis strips away everything non-essential. You quickly learn who acts out of fear and who out of purpose.

• At the leadership level, clarity and empathy became vital. The best leaders communicated directly and simply: what we know, what we don’t, what we’ll try next. Those who remained transparent gained trust, even when they had no answers.
• At the business unit level, autonomy became the lifeline. Each hub had to design its own processes with minimal central direction. Leaders who embraced empowerment thrived; those who clung to hierarchy stalled progress.
• At the team level, we witnessed collaboration at its purest form. Technicians, planners, and drivers worked side by side, solving problems on the floor. Teams managed their own workloads, based on real-time need.
• At the individual level, purpose overrode job descriptions. People acted out of collective responsibility, not compliance. Everyone’s focus was crystal clear: keep the network running for customers.

The VUCA layers revealed

The crisis showed how VUCA dynamics manifest differently at every level:

• society and customers – volatility in expectations, uncertainty in supply, and high emotional tension. Customers needed reliability and communication more than service. Transparency built trust faster than promises.
• organization – complexity exploded. With systems down, hidden dependencies became visible. People discovered how deeply connected every process was, and that collaboration was the only way forward.
• business unit – uncertainty became daily reality. Planning horizons shrank from months to hours. Decisions were made through rapid iteration and local learning.
• teams – ambiguity turned into creativity. Teams became learning systems, designing and testing new practices continuously.
• individuals – adaptability became a mindset. People learned to self-regulate emotions, manage energy, and contribute beyond role boundaries.
• leadership – the shift from control to sensemaking. The best leaders didn’t try to predict outcomes — they focused on giving meaning to the situation, enabling others to act with clarity and courage.

Communication as the anchor

Without IT, communication became our biggest risk and most powerful asset. WhatsApp became our global backbone. We used private phones, handwritten notes, and even wall maps to track shipments and trucks. In one location, staff used a public Facebook group to inform customers of progress — it worked better than any corporate platform ever did.

We learned the hard way that communication must be frequent, human, and honest. The five Cs of crisis communication guided us: concerns, clarity, control, confidence, and consistency. When you lose control of the message, misinformation fills the vacuum.

Learning in real time

By the end of the first week, we had rebuilt a semi-functional network. Processes were slower but working. And we had learned more in seven days than in seven years of system-based operations.

The behavioral shifts were astonishing:

• focus sharpened overnight
• decisions became faster and cleaner
• alignment happened organically
• silos disappeared — replaced by shared urgency
• continuous improvement became everyone’s job
• hierarchy gave way to ownership
• customer focus intensified rather than faded

This was change in its purest form — raw, human, immediate.

Theory corner: what research tells us about crisis leadership

Scholars at Harvard Business Review and MIT Sloan have long studied what separates organizations that adapt from those that collapse under crisis. Their findings echo exactly what we lived through.

• Karl Weick’s concept of “sensemaking” explains that in complex environments, leaders can’t rely on prediction; they must help people interpret unfolding events. By “structuring the unknown,” leaders reduce anxiety and create shared meaning — precisely what our crisis meetings and clear communications achieved.
• Heifetz’s adaptive leadership theory from Harvard frames leadership as the act of mobilizing people to face reality and thrive amid uncertainty. It’s not about having answers, but about creating conditions for others to learn and act. That’s exactly what emerged when our teams began solving problems locally, with autonomy and trust.
• Amy Edmondson’s research on psychological safety shows that in uncertain environments, performance improves when people feel safe to speak up and experiment. During the NotPetya crisis, hierarchy dissolved and every voice counted — a perfect example of psychological safety under pressure.
• MIT’s findings on organizational resilience describe resilient systems as decentralized, iterative, and adaptive. Our rapid cycles of reflection and redesign — those two-hour meetings — mirrored what MIT calls high reliability organizing: constant learning in action.

In short, theory confirmed what experience revealed: crisis leadership isn’t about control; it’s about clarity, trust, and learning speed.

Reflection and lessons learned

The NotPetya crisis taught me more about VUCA leadership than any training or theory could. It revealed that:

• purpose and trust are stronger than process and control
• leadership isn’t about having answers, but creating meaning in uncertainty
• systems can fail, but culture — when healthy — becomes the safety net
• true resilience lives in people, not technology

After the crisis, we didn’t just rebuild systems; we captured learning, improved our contingency planning, and developed cross-functional “war rooms” for rapid response. Most importantly, we redefined leadership expectations — less command, more connection.

Final thoughts

Crises don’t create character — they reveal it. What I witnessed during those days was the power of human adaptability at its best. When systems fail, people rise. When uncertainty rules, purpose guides.

That experience shaped my entire view on leadership in a VUCA world. The core of resilience isn’t efficiency or control — it’s the ability to sense, adapt, and connect.

If there’s one thing I learned, it’s this: organizations don’t survive because they’re the biggest or most prepared. They survive because their people can find direction when the map disappears.