Webster's defines service as: "[from the Latin servitium condition of a slave, body of slaves, fr. Servus slave]. 1 a: the occupation or function of serving b: employment as a servant 2 a: the work performed by one that serves < good ~> b: help, use; disposal for use 6 b: one of a nation's military forces."
These definitions embody a concept that falls strangely on today's ears. Being a slave is not at all enticing or relevant in modern society. Employment as a servant is considered demeaning. The concept of subordinating one's needs, priorities, or philosophies to another individual or to anything other than self-is becoming increasingly foreign. It is rare to hear military members identify themselves as being "in the service." Instead, they describe their occupations in more socially attractive terms. "I'm a pilot," they say, or "I'm in the military." This growing disparity between identification with the concept of selfless service and the rising supremacy of self is dangerous in a profession in which the fundamental operating methodology and the accomplishment of the profession's ultimate purpose demand an ability to subordinate self.
There are certain personal qualities that characterize the concept of service. They are not often seen today, and even in times when they are appreciated remain elusive. A few of these-subordination of self, ongoing intellectual development, uncompromising ideals, valuing improvement over praise, and compassion-apply especially to military leadership.
Self and the Warrior Ethic
What is the most basic character trait a warrior should possess? Bravery? Courage? Sacrifice? No, not one of these. The most important trait for a warrior is that of being a servant-the rest will flow from that. The fundamental quality of service is the subordination of self to another person, goal, concept, or ideal that the individual considers larger, greater, or more important than himself. Optimally, and for any organization's best interest, individuals lose or discard self and identify instead with that to which self has been subordinated. All activities become centered on furthering the goal, concept, objective, or ideal.
No servant, if servant truly, thinks it right to first consider personal needs, comforts, perquisites, or status. That to which slave and servant are submitted has first claim. The heart of a servant realizes this is the right order of things, that there is no shame, disgrace, or loss of dignity in such a relationship. The servant finds fulfillment, satisfaction, and dignity in the furtherance of that to which he has submitted.
Parochialism stems from the rejection of selfless service and is completely opposed to it, yet parochialism exists throughout (and is killing) our services. It is a philosophy devoid of sacrifice or subordination-strange bedfellow with our military's value systems. Admiral Hyman Rickover, one of the Navy's best true servants, offered a sound philosophy on the real sacrifice a true servant must make:
Although it is not easy to admit what a person once thought correct now appears to be wrong, one must discipline himself to face the facts objectively and make the necessary changes-regardless of the consequences to himself. The man in charge must personally set the example in this respect. He must be able, in effect, to "kill his own child" if necessary and must require his subordinates to do likewise.1 "Regardless of the consequences to himself' is the ultimate parameter for a servant's decisions. In the military, so many officers attach themselves to and identify with a particular program or policy that to admit its error or irrelevance is in essence a denial or destruction of self. So they hold on to the program or policy too long, to the detriment of those the officer allegedly serves. The sad fact is that if self has not been put away, an officer is, at bottom, still serving that hard master. His service is self-ish.
Subordination of self has a corollary: the servant looks constantly to the master for the master's every need. The good servant anticipates those needs, and in the case of a blind, foolish, or short-sighted master, will take great pains, even to the point of voluminous argument, to see that the master's feet are placed on the right path. A servant who believes he knows better than the master can provide the best service if his belief is formed from long association and submission to the master and when the servant begins and continues in the relationship with an open mind. There are masters who do not see their own best course. Only after the persistent servant has wrestled them onto the right path will they look with appreciation on such labor. But again, appreciation is not what is sought-it is getting the master on the right path, the path that will do him the most good, that provides the servant his satisfaction.
Officers who have not submitted their selves to a higher goal will shrink from argument with their seniors. Viewing their own careers as the highest conceivable good, they consider irritating or upsetting senior officers as the height of folly and a detriment to progress. This might be why many of today's senior military officials find it so hard to argue with or oppose their civilian leaders.
The concept that they serve a larger civilian body is becoming foreign to our elitist officer corps. The idea that the loftiest admiral or general works for the plumber with five children, the day laborer who digs ditches, the single mother on welfare, or the business executive struggling to provide jobs is not reflected in the demeanor or character of many high-ranking officers. If they had such a mind-set, what officers would not work vigorously to reduce the exorbitant costs of weapons or the bureaucracy-the massive organization on which they sit, enthroned? Efforts to extend the status quo, when seen in this light, actually appear pernicious.
Intellectual Development
How can a servant be useful without mastering the knowledge required by the task? To shoe a horse well, a farrier must have in-depth knowledge of all things having to do with the hoof and how it affects the rest of the beast. To do fruitful work, a gardener must have knowledge of plants, soil, weather, and all sorts of other such things. Just so, to be a true servant, the professional military officer must commit to a rigorous and ongoing process of intellectual growth and accomplishment in his field to be able to make long-term, substantive contributions.
But intellectual growth is difficult. It is not easy to maintain a life of study, of challenging intellectual activity, and true enough, many officers eschew this road. If enough officers avoid this hard path, then soon the easy path becomes the one most traveled, and it appears to the majority that it is the path best advised for the safe advancement of a career. The result of this "slouching toward mediocrity" is a loss in the quality of service rendered to the nation. Officers with a right conception of selfless service must fight this tendency tooth and nail.
Uncompromising Ideals
Without ideals, no servant can meet the demands of a higher goal or a loftier objective. Ideals are like the ribs of a ship, around which planks are placed to form the hull of character. Like the hull of a ship, character determines how we make our way through the sea of life. And when one rib cracks, others will soon follow, and the hull of character soon caves. So the officer whose mind is set on becoming a servant must not compromise his ideals.
Consensus has its place. But the root of the word leadership means "to know where to go." Too many of today's leaders use consensus to cover for their lack of knowing where to go. To stand up and assert that one knows better than others the right course requires intellectual rigor, moral courage, and audacity-all of which have their source in correct ideals. Sometimes, sadly, rank is used as a substitute for those qualities. Those desiring to truly lead must realize that, if they are better at assessing the circumstances and determining the right course of action, to compromise would be disastrous. And their confidence must not based on bravado, ego, rank, or a grab for power or status. It must be based on a reasoned and intelligent assessment of the situation and their ability to conduct that assessment through the lens of correct ideals.
Improvement, not Approbation
Another trait of the servant is a focus on improvement rather than approbation. No true servant seeks his own praise, yet it has become a hallmark for today's military leaders to laud themselves or their commands with all manner of praise and honors in public. Who has not been to a speech where a senior military officer or responsible official outlines the stellar accomplishments of his organization, trumpeting how things are now "better than ever"? They lightly brush over areas where there "might be room to examine other issues," which is simply a fancy way to describe problem areas.
But a true servant focuses on problems. It is not his task to worry over appearances; the true servant is concerned with things of substance. Results come from improvement, and improvement comes from attacking problems.
Compassion for the Object of Service
A true servant is motivated to be so by compassion for the object of service. This compassion cannot be manufactured, but comes from the servant's reasoned comparison and an understanding of the relative importance of his own life versus that to which he has subordinated that life. Those who have not fully put down self will never have compassion in full measure for those whom they serve. There always will be a portion of strength or effort held back or misdirected.
Social graces and consideration for "ruffled feathers" should not be confused with compassion. Compassion is of greater magnitude and depth than simple sensitivity. Sensitivity is a valued quality, but the servant is most sensitive to the deeper needs of the object of service. If this means discipline or what may seem to some an unfeeling approach, it is because the servant realizes that only through such methods will the goal of the master be attained. Typically, those most concerned with others' surface feelings are those most sensitive about their own another obstacle to true service. The true servant will drive to affect the deeper heart, the more important issues.
The true servant will harden himself against false compassion. Again, Rickover's life is illustrative. When his staff remonstrated with him about the high standards he set for prospective nuclear submarine officers, and that failure to attain his approval essentially would mean the end of the officer's career, his response was instructive.
Sure, it bothers me. Lots of things bother me. I read about a little kid getting hit by a drunken driver. Damn shame. But I'm not in charge of the universe. I'm not even in charge of the Navy. I only have this lousy little corner of the world .... But it's responsibility enough, and I aim to do it as well as I can.
The true servant focuses on the fundamental object of service and hews ruthlessly toward it, discarding anything that blurs or detracts from its pursuit. Rickover's apparent heartlessness would not have seemed so cruel had that individual in the future failed in some way and caused the loss of a submarine crew or a nuclear accident. True compassion also has an added benefit-it is a protection for the individual, whether or not they realize it at the time.
Last Observations
We are all human. No matter how hard we try, we will never be rid of self completely, and therefore we will never be ideal servants. This is no reason not to keep trying. But since we are human, it is easy for us at times to believe that our service is essential, and that any action that might secure our continued ability to serve is justifiable. This could cause the servant actually to trample long-cherished ideals in their very pursuit. No servant is greater than the ideals espoused or created by his object of his service.
There is a second and more important caution, however. The object of service will define the nature of service, and ultimately the type of heart formed in the servant. If the object of service is our self, the nature of service will be self-ish, and the ultimate result will be a life of isolation and despair. If the object of service is a goal or an organization, the nature of service will take on the characteristics of that goal or organization. The result in the heart and life of the servant will be fulfillment and satisfaction commensurate with the success of the goal or the organization-a risky proposition. And so the human soul in this way can feel some sense of inadequacy, some frustrated, empty ache. As Rickover lay on his deathbed, his conversation was a piercing illumination into the heart of a servant who had chosen something that, in the end, turned out not to be larger or bigger than his own soul.
How the hell are you supposed to know what God wants you to do with your life, eh? ... Maybe I was supposed to be a cello player .... How am I supposed to know? What about all that stuff ... about me accepting gifts from the shipbuilder? Do people think I'm a crook? Is that how my life is to be judged in the end?
When his biographer attempted to assuage Rickover with the success of the nuclear submarine program in the Navy, Rickover responded: "Oh, you know all that stuff is transient; it doesn't mean a thing. Where's the enduring value? What does it all add up to?"
There was one final attempt to convince the dying admiral that his life had had an impact. The biographer spoke of a renewed recognition of the need for excellence, quality, professionalism, and integrity in the industry and in the lives of people-what the biographer termed "the Rickover Effect." Perhaps unconvinced, Rickover responded, "I guess I can settle for that. The impact on the people."
No human soul can be content without knowing it has in some way affected others-this is why Rickover appeared content to have affected people, which is a selfless servant's greatest wish. But we also can see the faint echo of his realization that the goal, the object, the ideal for which he had striven all his life was somehow not enough-not big or deep or infinite enough to satisfy the need to know that his life had possessed true meaning.
Every truly noble human soul, every heart desiring to serve in this life, realizes that it will someday face the question: What could be so big or deep or infinite that, should it be the object of my life's service, it will make my time on this earth worth something? What is it that will provide complete fulfillment and satisfaction? The answer is an exercise-one we must all answer rightly if we are to depart in peace.