Peter Drucker is credited with the line, “Culture eats strategy for breakfast.” And after fifty years in this business, I can tell you—he wasn’t exaggerating. You can have the best plans, the slickest PowerPoint decks, the fanciest consultants, and the most ambitious revenue targets in the world. But if your culture is toxic? Forget it. You’re dead before you start.

I’ve seen it too many times. A CEO lays out a bold vision—new markets, cutting-edge products, aggressive growth goals. The board applauds. The team nods. But when the doors close and the real work begins, the culture either fuels that plan or strangles it. And in most cases, it’s the latter. Why? Because culture is invisible in the boardroom but painfully visible on the shop floor.

A toxic culture doesn’t show up in your balance sheet—at least not right away. It shows up in the eye-rolls during meetings. It shows up in the passive resistance when deadlines slip. It shows up in the way people cover their backs instead of covering for each other.

I once worked with a company that had an award-winning strategic plan. They were targeting aerospace and defense markets, building state-of-the-art HDI boards, and investing in new equipment. On paper, it was flawless. But inside the walls, it was chaos. Managers didn’t trust operators. Sales didn’t trust engineering. Nobody trusted leadership. And guess what? They missed every target, every time. The plan didn’t fail—the culture did.

When people don’t trust, they don’t commit. And without commitment, execution is impossible.

One of the clearest signs of a bad culture is excuse-making. You know the lines:

• “We would have shipped on time if purchasing hadn’t dropped the ball.”
• “Engineering screwed up the stackup again—nothing we could do.”
• “Management keeps changing the priorities—why bother trying?”

Excuses are poison. They train people to see failure as inevitable, to treat responsibility like a hot potato. And finger-pointing? That’s even worse. Once people start caring more about who’s to blame than about fixing the problem, you’re finished.

Accountability is the antidote. In a healthy culture, people own the outcome—even when it hurts. A late delivery isn’t “purchasing’s problem” or “engineering’s fault.” It’s our problem. We win together or we fail together. Period.

Here’s another truth too many leaders forget: culture starts with who you hire. I don’t care how impressive the résumé looks—degrees, certifications, fancy company logos. None of that matters if the person isn’t hungry, gritty, and willing to own results.

I’d take a high-school graduate with grit over an Ivy League MBA with entitlement any day. Why? Because grit beats polish. Hunger beats pedigree. The résumé might get you in the door, but character determines whether you make the team stronger or weaker.

I’ve seen entire organizations turn around when they started hiring for cultural fit—people who were willing to take accountability, who wanted to work hard, who weren’t afraid to roll up their sleeves and do what it takes. Skills can be taught. Hunger cannot.

Markets rise and fall. Customers delay orders. Costs spike. That’s business. You can’t control the economy. But you can control your culture.

The companies that survive downturns aren’t the ones with the best technology or the fanciest marketing—they’re the ones with the strongest accountability. When times get tough, everyone in a healthy culture leans in harder. They don’t ask, “Whose fault is this?” They ask, “What can I do to fix it?”

During the 2008 crash, I watched two PCB companies face the same brutal conditions. One folded. The other came out stronger. The difference? The survivors had a culture where everyone took responsibility. Sales hustled harder. Operators worked overtime. Leadership cut their own salaries before touching anyone else’s. That accountability bred trust, and trust bred resilience.

You don’t beat recessions with strategy alone. You beat them with culture.

Here’s the punch line: culture is strategy.

You can’t bolt culture onto the side of your plan like an accessory. It’s not “soft stuff” you deal with after the real work. It is the real work. Because without the right culture, every plan will crumble under pressure.

Think about it:

• A great culture turns setbacks into lessons.
• A toxic culture turns setbacks into blame.
• A great culture celebrates wins and builds momentum.
• A toxic culture treats wins as accidents and ignores them.
• A great culture drives customers to trust you.
• A toxic culture drives customers to flee.

Culture is the engine that makes strategy go—or the anchor that drags it to the bottom.

So what’s the common-sense play here? Simple: treat culture like your number one strategy.

1. Model accountability. If you’re the leader, excuses stop with you. Own mistakes publicly. Give credit generously. Show people what accountability looks like.
2. Hire for fit, not just skills. Ask questions that reveal hunger, grit, and integrity. Résumés fade—character doesn’t.
3. Root out toxicity fast. One excuse-maker can infect a whole team. If someone refuses to change, cut them loose. Don’t let a rotten apple spoil the barrel.
4. Celebrate ownership. Reward the people who step up, not the ones who step aside. What you recognize is what you’ll get more of.
5. Tie culture to outcomes. Don’t treat culture as abstract values on a wall. Tie it directly to metrics: on-time delivery, customer satisfaction, revenue growth. Make culture measurable.

Look, in the end strategy is easy. Anyone can sit in a room and write up a plan. The hard part is culture—the daily habits, the accountability, the way people show up when no one’s watching. That’s where businesses rise or fall.

So if you want to know your real competitive advantage, don’t look at your brochures. Don’t look at your patents. Don’t even look at your equipment. Look at your culture.

If it’s healthy—built on grit, accountability, and trust—you can survive any storm. If it’s toxic—built on excuses and finger-pointing—you’re one bad quarter away from collapse.

Your culture is your strategy. Ignore it, and it will eat you alive. Nurture it, and it will carry you further than any five-year plan ever could. It’s only common sense.