First Honorable Mention
Vincent Astor Memorial Leadership Contest
In the presence of leadership, we are aware that it exists, yet, like some rare element not yet completely analyzed by science, we are at a loss to define its separate elements. Even supposing that we were to agree on the constituent parts, what long discussions are still possible on their proportions? Yet, who better than naval officers should know what makes up the matter of leadership? So, like the ancient philosophers, starting from crude notions of fire, water, earth, and the heavens, let us begin a voyage to discover the elements of leadership—a voyage which can only give us a deeper knowledge of ourselves.
Unlike so many unexplained phenomena that remain within the confines of scientific research, leadership has the signal advantage of being examined and experienced by everyone of us—leadership is real. As with oxygen, we know almost immediately when it is lacking or nonexistent. It is equally apparent, moreover, that leadership presupposes the existence of people wanting needing to be led. Indeed, the critical element of effective leadership is the quality of the relationship between the leader and his followers. In the context of a military organization this is transformed into the relationship between the commander and those men for whom he is responsible. The efficiency of this relationship is dependent on reciprocal one: on the one hand, the commander, who exercises leadership; on the other hand, those members of his organization, be it ship or shore, who recognize his leadership and, in so doing, permit the effective functioning of the whole.
The officer who is not familiar with the legendary exploits of Admiral Nelson, and who cannot at least recite trilogy of the Nile, Copenhagen, and Trafalgar victories, is hopefully rare. But to illustrate this reciprocal care that is a prerequisite of effective leadership, the events following Nelson's departure from Gibraltar on 11 February 1797, while less well known, speaks volumes. Having collected his two lieutenants, Culverhouse and Hardy, recently released from Spanish custody, Nelson weighed anchor in the forenoon and soon found himself pursued by two Spanish ships of the line and a frigate. The chase was on. However, relative speed being only slightly to the enemy's advantage, there appeared to be time to conduct dinner in a gentlemanly manner.
No sooner had they begun when the "man overboard" cry ended further conversation. Lieutenant Hardy, just freed, found himself officer-in-charge of the boat put off to search for the missing crew member. The current in the straits carried the rescue launch toward the Pursuers so rapidly that, when no sign of the missing man was found, it seemed impossible for the launch and her crew to avoid capture. The crew pulled mightily to regain the Minerve, but no progress seemed evident. Le Terrible was almost within gunshot. "By God!" exclaimed Nelson, "I'll not lose Hardy! Back that mizzen-topsail." The action calls to mind Admiral Mitscher's famous “lights on" order to assist aircraft returning from the attack on Ozawa's carrier force nearly a century and a half later n the battle of the Philippine Sea. The sequel? Superior shiphandling and the onset of night combined to complete the rescue. When, years later, Vice admiral Sir Thomas Masterton Hardy reflected on the man he had been privileged to serve, he no doubt accorded considerable credit to that day.
The lesson, taken from a now romanticized era, is no less applicable today. Within the bounds of technical specialization imposed by the increasing complexity of shipboard systems, the tendency is all too often to plead mounting paperwork and insufficient time as excuses for not making a decision. The effect remains invariably constant. The people we are expected to lead, the people who look to their officers for a minimum of personal concern, are left unsatisfied. Left to the conflicting currents of personal qualifications, family cares, and working conditions often beyond a sailor’s Power to correct, is it difficult to understand why he occasionally strays from the approved path? We must ask ourselves what we can do to restore our own effectiveness as well as his confidence in the essential merit of a system based on Mutual respect. We must, in short, find a Way to "back the mizzen-topsail," if that is what it takes.
Obviously the great Nelson felt that he could flaunt his seamanship and his crew in front of the enemy's nose, especially if it meant saving a valued member of his team; another component of leadership would therefore appear to be a certain professional knowledge. Timidity is often based on ignorance. It is no accident that retention rates have long been higher in the nuclear-power and aviation arms of the fleet while the surface officer retention rate hovers between the abysmally poor and the barely acceptable. Training—the ability to meet the challenge with a certain amount of knowledge—has been a prerequisite in these "other" areas.
We have, however, too long assumed that a young officer can walk on board his first ship armed with a knowledge of PMS and make it go. The progress made in the institution of the Surface Warfare Officer Schools is a considerable step forward in offering the surface officer the training he needs and desires. There is so much more, however, yet to be done.
Yet, were there no schools at all or money to develop new programs, the problem could still be attacked by improving the contact and communication (not synonymous terms) between division officers and petty officers. It is through these vital individuals that leadership must pass to be effective, to transform itself from objective and ideal to accomplishment and reality. Unfortunately, for a variety of reasons, the chain frequently breaks down here. Yet nowhere is the reciprocal respect inherent in true leadership more important.
Speaking in another context, former Secretary of Defense Thomas Gates once said that while civilians could not hope to match the accumulated professional expertise of the military community, they should, nonetheless, not be afraid to exercise their authority over the military when the nation's interests so dictate. In the same respect, but on a more microcosmic scale, the young division officer, whatever his specialization, should not unquestioningly assume that superior technical knowledge equals superior judgment. At the same time, should he be blessed with a calm and experienced professional chief petty officer, let him pay attention to the accumulated wisdom that even Secretary Gates would not have disputed. The exercise of judgment needs to be continuous and informed to be effective.
Yet the magical equation of leadership, this reciprocal respect between the leader and those men and women he leads, is only the beginning. The second element of leadership lies wholly within ourselves. We can broadly define this second and equally important component as the worthiness of the leader himself. "It is by no means enough that an officer be a gentleman," wrote John Paul Jones; the elements that compose the rest of his famous treatise, clothed in the modern idiom, may still speak clearly to us all.
First, we would seek personal honor fashioned of clear positions intelligently taken on every question, be it minor or complex. Let us take care that our bureaucratic affiliation does not offer a convenient excuse to model ourselves on the marvelous chameleon, changing our colors as the background dictates, until, for lack of a discernible goal, those whom we would lead lose interest.
Next, let's recognize that this incredibly rapid changing society we are part of is prone to produce a large degree of incertitude among us all, but especially among the young people who form the backbone of the fleet. With this knowledge, let us who would lead temper unremitting discipline with a measure of compassion.
In addition, whatever our rank, wherever we serve, if we would lead well, let's watch ourselves lest we be classed with Cassius as "lean and hungry" men. It is well to be disciplined, excellent to be professional, and superb to be dedicated to the task at hand. However none of these factors, or any others, should exclude one's sense of humor. We are all wary of the man who never laughs.
While a final point related to the leader's worthiness might be interpreted as a superfluous addition, it needs to be said: a leader is first someone we see. Let his dress, manners, and speech inspire emulation. Can we follow a man who by his very carriage urges defeat and resignation? An affirmative answer is doubtful and the lesson is obvious.
A third essential element of leadership is knowledge. Francis Bacon, writing during the reign of Elizabeth I, emphasized the desirability of a liberal knowledge as an asset to leaders. His account of Alexander the Great's profound respect for the glories of ancient Greek letters shows us that an open mind and eager spirit are not misplaced in military leaders. The expansion of knowledge, and especially the quantitative advances of technical knowledge, that surrounds us has made us all specialists, will it or not. Certainly, while we must all be competent within the area of our particular specialty or subspecialty, is it not reasonable to expect of a leader today, in an era when the role of the military within our democratic society is being questioned and examined with intensity, to be at least conversant with the principal issues of our time?
The leader, if we suppose the answer to be yes, owes it to himself as well as to his command, be it a squad, division, or fleet, to actively seek knowledge, to read, to question, to listen, and finally, if only during the long quiet hours of a midwatch, to reflect. This is no easy or quickly met task. It is a continuing effort, too often foregone, and the more easily foregone because it is so rarely encouraged by the professional environment in which we operate.
Experience shows, time and again, that whether we labor in the administrative maze of Washington or the clash and clamor of the flight deck, that problems present themselves so insistently that they effectively eliminate the most determined effort to set aside time to reflect upon the basic questions, to seek long-term solutions, and to investigate the long-range impacts. Yet those are precisely the actions expected of a leader, to foresee, to provide, and to be, in short, concerned, not only with today, but with tomorrow and the day after tomorrow as well. To be concerned, not only with the state of his equipment, but most especially with the state of his men. In any discussion of what leadership is, whatever the level of abstraction, we are invariably drawn back to the most essential element—man.
From Xenophon, marching with his troops across a hostile country, to Nelson, caring not only for the devoted Hardy but also for every man in his fleet, the most successful leaders have been, and continue to be, those who, despite the heavy fire, be it bullets or directives from higher authority, have known how to care for their men. I do not mean caring in a paternalistic sense, but rather in the sense of a mutual understanding, openly arrived at, in which a healthy concern for the rights of others is mingled with an unfailing sense of duty.
For, if we were by some fascinating interplay of science and morality to place a mirror before the image of leadership itself, we would see reflected there not leadership but duty. Far more than an outmoded concept, gathering dust and respect in a museum echoing with memories of long-silent carronades, duty is still very much with us. Duty is the keel upon which any assessment of leadership must be built. Without a sense of duty, however resourceful a leader be, he is nothing—a derelict. But let him be dedicated to an ideal, to the maintenance of a set of values that are to him as vital as life itself, and he is unconquerable.
Yet duty, like leadership, has several distinguishable components. Duty to ourselves, to adopt an egocentric reference, implies that we will do all in our power to develop whatever natural talents we possess, seeking new knowledge to complement acquired skills, as Bacon recommended. It also implies whatever personal moral and religious beliefs we adopt, that we follow them, making their positive influence part of our daily existence. But duty is much greater than ourselves. As a concert if englobes each leader in an expanding circle of concentric rings which, like chic impact of his actions, radiate outward,' ripple-like, to affect the world of which he is part. The ever-present danger is that, blinded by the constant concerns of coping, the leader will fail to consider the impact and requirements of his duty to the greater whole. The entire structure—leader, command, and duty—rests, upon the recognition by each individual of his responsibility to the men he serves—up and down the chain of command.
And so we return to our point of departure, our home port. Leadership; with all its necessary accessories, emerges as the nicest combination of reciprocal respect and personal honor. Untouched by obsolescence, these are soundings we may safely steer by. If we would be leaders, prudent seamanship requires us to do so.