Noble Purpose and the Profession of Arms: Define it and Realize it!



Michael G. Sabbeth, Esq.



 

          In Polymnia, the Seventh Book of the History of Herodotus, Demaratus, a betrayed Spartan, warned Persian King Xerxes against attacking the Spartans. “Valour is an ally whom we have gained by dint of wisdom and strict laws,” he said. Xerxes, scoffing, said the Spartans were weak because they are free men under no direct authority. Demaratus admonished Xerxes, “They are the bravest of all. For though they be free men, they are not in all respects free. Law is the master whom they own; and this master they fear more than thy subjects fear thee… It forbids them to flee in battle…and requires them to conquer or die.”

          Xerxes ignored Demaratus and was defeated in the naval Battle of Salamis. The Spartans fought for a noble purpose, not personal glory or wealth.  

          Heinrich Himmler, Reichsführer-SS, commander of the German Schutzstaffel(SS), the Nazi concentration camps and the Einsatzgruppen death squads, expressed an elastic view of noble purpose in his speech to SS officers in Posen, Poland on October 6, 1943: “Most of you know what it means when a hundred corpses are lying side by side..…and at the same time— apart from exceptions caused by human weakness — to have remained decent fellows, that is what has made us hard….. a page of glory in our history… We had the moral right, we had the duty to our people, to destroy this people which wanted to destroy us.”

          Like beauty, noble purpose is in the eyes of the beholder. Himmler illustrates the infinite capacity of the human mind to behold the vilest evil as noble. The lethality of modern weaponry dictates that the survival of the human species and much else will be a consequence of the proper determination of the nobility of purpose our professionals in arms are commanded to implement.

          Leaders determine what is noble, but they, even if democratically elected, offer no guarantee of wisdom and virtue. Ascribing something as noble is an easy rhetorical stunt, but, in George Gershwin’s words, “It ain’t necessarily so.”

          Noble purposes do exist. A realist’s perspective on noble purpose should incorporate criteria to measure its nobility, its consequences and the likelihood it will be pursued. The inherent ethics of the purpose, the existence of power to implement it, the moral clarity possessed by leaders assessing it and the existence of moral will to implement the purpose must be assessed. Those who choose a life of service within the profession of arms are duty bound to understand the morality of their assigned purposes and to make moral judgments among conflicting noble purposes.

NOBLE PURPOSE

In some ways suffering ceases to be suffering at the moment it finds a meaning, such as the meaning of a sacrifice.” ― Viktor E. Frankl, Man's Search for Meaning

          In Once an Eagle, a seminal novel on military honor, Anton Myrer expressed a noble purpose: “but what excited him (Sam Damon) most of all were the stories of Cincinnatus and Dumouriez and Prescot, of farmers and citizens who took arms to confound tyranny and crush it, who stepped into the mortal breach to save their native lands…”

          Of the six purposes cited in the Preamble of the United States Constitution that justify its creation, one imposes a noble purpose on the nation’s profession of arms: provide for the common defense. The Preamble is derived from the classic Greek tragedian concept that the natural state of man is conflict rather than peace due to its predatory and opportunistic nature. Thus, society has a  duty to protect its citizens through deterrence and battle. In Western culture, the mission of the profession of arms is to serve the rule of law and individual freedom.

          Augustine of Hippo, generally considered the greatest Christian theologian, asserted: “Peacefulness in the face of a grave wrong that could only be stopped by violence would be a sin.” The premise of the ‘just war’ was that the evil of war could be justified only if war could prevent greater evils.

MORAL CLARITY

"Evil is never done so thoroughly or so well as when it is done with a good conscience." Blaise Pascal

          Moral clarity, the intersection of the rational and the ethical, allows nobility of purpose to be judged on its own ethical integrity. A fighter pilot in Gulf War I was instructed to shoot Iraqis fleeing Kuwait. Deductive reasoning compels that the mission to get Iraqis out of Kuwait had been accomplished and the rationale for shooting them no longer existed. The pilot requested a change of orders. The granting of modified orders negating the instruction to shoot acknowledged a noble purpose premised upon sanctity of life, among other virtues.

          Either a purpose is noble or it is not, based on reasonably objective criteria discerned by scalpel-like questioning: does the purpose advance ethical principles such as Autonomy, Justice, Sanctity of Life and individual liberty and personal freedom? Himmler’s didn’t. Neither did Mohamed Atta’s, the Egyptian hijacker who piloted American Airlines Flight 11 into the North Tower on September 11, 2001.

          The absence of moral clarity leads to moral confusion and false moral equivalencies, risking an Orwellian linguistic dishonesty where the narrative of the enemy defines the noble purpose. Moral clarity must distinguish between reasoning and rationalizing; between rational and sophistic rhetoric.

POWER

          The nobility of a nation’s purpose is a function of its power to actualize that purpose. As power drains, what is noble becomes malleable. John Keegan, the great military historian, observed that a nation without a military is in a sense no longer a nation. Author Mark Steyn noted that “in a more general sense, nations that abandon their militaries tend also to abandon their national interests: Increasingly, instead of policies, they have attitudes.”

          When nations lack the power to address serious issues, they become consumed with trivial ones, where, for example, concerns for windmills trump concerns about Iran’s nuclear weapons. The nation becomes a bystander in its own fate.

          Executing a noble purpose requires power. Nations promised fortunes in aid in the aftermath of the 2004 tsunami in Sumatra, Indonesia. As food and goods piled up on docks, to be stolen or to rot, the United States military saved lives because it had the power—helicopters and pilots—to reach stranded and wounded people. If you’d wanted to donate to a useful charity to save lives, you’d have given your money to the United States Navy.

          In the absence of power, a nation may, at best, mask its impotence by couching its noble purpose in narcissistic moral preening. The most assertive action almost any nation can now take to confront savagery around the world is to get a UN resolution expressing concern.

MORAL WILL

          Moral will is the distillate of several qualities, including ethical character, the capacity to analyze facts and, through logic and reason, evaluate foreseeable consequences of actions and inactions. Character, however, is the most salient attribute of moral will. The essence of moral leadership is the ability to inspire loyalty and confidence through force of personal example; the difference between the officer yelling "Follow me!" as opposed to "Charge!"

          Moral will in its most honorable incarnation is duty but duty does not define its boundaries. The most motivating force in war is not country or flag but protecting your buddy. ‘Leave no soldier behind’ is the quintessential expression of moral will.

          Moral will is the willingness to risk all for a noble purpose. U. S. Army Ranger Sergeant Leroy Petry, the second living soldier since the Vietnam War to receive the Medal of Honor, saved the lives of at least two men in his unit by lunging for a grenade before it could kill them, amputating his hand. "It's not courage," he said. "It was love. I looked at the two men next to me that day and they were no different than my own children or my wife. I did what anyone would have done." Anyone would have done? If only!

          Moral will directs behavior. It demands that the exigencies of the present not be cravenly ignored. It demands a credible deterrence against those that desire to undermine you. Rather than having perverse mesmerizing awe for the aggressive self certainty of those inflicting harm,  the exercise of moral will effects an unalloyed commitment to defeat them. The nation that lacks moral will acquiesces in barbarism.

          Lack of moral will degrades into moral confusion, undermines confidence in noble purposes and can lead to appeasement, the appearance of weakness and possibly the preemptive compromising of those values the arms professionals have sworn to uphold. Moral will enables a nation to have the right enemies and the right friends. You can be liked by all or you can be a great noble power. You can’t be both.

CONFLICTING NOBLE PURPOSES

          Noble purposes often conflict. A soldier’s work is inherently conflicted among obligations to the object of the conflict, the welfare of the men and the broader ethical context of the mission. If these conflictual choices are not recognized and their resolutions deliberated, there is nothing for the professional in arms to profess.

          Conflicting noble purposes are evident in innumerable choices and decisions such as those pertaining to the release of prisoners from Guantanamo, the use of drone attacks, the concern for collateral damage as a factor to limit or reject lethal action and the rules of engagement.

          We nobly aspire to be a nation of laws, not men, yet when decisions are made on the basis of bureaucratic legalisms, risks increase that released prisoners will return to kill Americans. The noble purpose of avoiding or reducing what is euphemistically called collateral damage is undermined when those targets are spared and, thus, allowed to kill more innocents. When the rules of engagement give greater value to the lives of enemy fighters than one’s own, its nobility of purpose begins to dissipate like smoke at a campfire.

          The inherent conflicts among noble purposes are ineluctable and elude the consistent application of the same solutions. In harmony with the Greek tragedian sense, leaders must be adaptable and, with grit and nobility of character, struggle to find new solutions. However, consistent principles should guide leaders to find resolutions on a case by case basis. Classist and military historian Victor Davis Hanson advocates pragmatism and prudence but acknowledges that for them to have moral value, pragmatism and prudence must be wrapped in an ethos that defends the nation and its core values of individual liberty and personal freedom.

CONCLUSIONS

But what is strength without a double share Of wisdom?

Milton

          A discussion of noble purposes and the profession of arms should raise the kinds of questions informed engaged citizens must ask if they are to gauge and hold accountable the moral integrity of their society and the arms profession that defends it. Noble purposes should be premised on a commitment to truth, for the greatest evil is done by those who believe lies. Noble purposes should advance the principles of individual liberty and freedom. They should be identified unambiguously and vigorously defended without apology or equivocation.

          Noble principles are not self-executing and ethics are not self-actualizing. Thus, leaders of moral character must be cultivated, nurtured and rewarded. Paraphrasing Thomas Sowell, ignorance draped in confidence is a dangerous quality and a leader’s ignorance conveyed through brilliant rhetoric will lead to national disaster.

          If the leadership chain fails to interpret and advance noble purposes and allows them to morph into philosophies contoured by momentary convenience and expedience, then noble intent becomes polluted like a toxic chemical seeping into an aquifer, subverting the mission of the profession of arms.

          The kinds of questions a society and its arms professionals ask—political, military, cultural, financial—illuminate their level of courage and honor. Noble purposes are more likely identified and achieved when leaders are not, in Edmund Burke’s phrase, “intoxicated with admiration at their own wisdom and ability.”

          Those who have dedicated their lives to the profession of arms can best realize nobility of purpose through ruthless introspection of their wisdom, character and moral will. Spelunking into the labyrinthine caverns of their souls to confront the tyrants within may be the noblest purpose of all.

Noble Purpose and the Profession of Arms: What should be the Connection?



Col. Daniel Moy, USAF





               During his 1962 farewell speech to West Point, General Douglass MacArthur asserted there was an essential noble quality about the profession of arms: “The soldier, above all other men,” MacArthur noted, “is required to practice the greatest act of religious training—sacrifice.”  For the military professional, selflessness is a distinction that reaches an uncommon extreme—unlimited liability, the willingness to give one’s all in the defense of the Constitution.[1]  Although there is no one more desiring of peace than the servicemember in harm’s way, that sense of commitment undergirds the profession of arms and the countless sacrifices made by military members and their families; over the course of a career, the cumulative toll can be immeasurable.  For this reason, the calling of military service is a noble one, and the citizens of the United States continue to view their military as one of the nation’s most respected and cherished institutions.  “However horrible the incidents of war may be,” MacArthur observed, “the soldier who is called upon to offer and to give his life for his country, is the noblest development of mankind.”

               The connection between nobility of purpose and the profession of arms came into sharp focus for me during a deployment to Afghanistan in 2008-2009.  For nine months on the ground, I had the privilege of commanding a Provincial Reconstruction Team (PRT) in a beleaguered province, Paktya, a rugged, mountainous area along the Pakistan border.  Our PRT consisted of nearly a hundred Air Force, Army, and civilian personnel representing a range of expertise, from civil engineers and civil affairs officers to governance and development advisers.  Our mission was to provide assistance to the institutions of the Afghan government and counter the efforts of insurgent actors seeking to undermine the legitimacy and capability of local leaders in providing security and services to a population of some 500,000, many of whom resided in remote tribal areas controlled by terrorist elements.  Bar none, over the course of my 23 years of military service, the best lessons I’ve received on the profession of arms came from observing the commitment and sacrifice of the airmen and soldiers under my command in Paktya province.

What really spoke to me in the example of these exemplary military professionals was the connection between noble purpose and individual character; each one of them stood ready to perform their duties in the face of hardship because of who they were at the core of things.  There’s nothing like the stress of a six-hour mounted combat patrol along a dusty, mountainous road in eastern Afghanistan and the threat of an Improvised Explosive Device (IED) or ambush emplacement along the way to challenge one’s resolve and commitment to the mission.  Executing these patrols repeatedly over the course of several months spoke volumes about the character of these airmen and soldiers.  For many of the members on my team, especially those who had never sat in a gunner’s turret or operated a Mine Resistant, Ambush Protected (MRAP) vehicle before, this environment “outside the wire” was unlike any they had previously experienced.  Frankly, the same could also be said of me since I had logged all of my previous combat support time in the Air Force from a cockpit 30,000 feet above the battlefield.

Heading into the summer months of 2009, enemy attacks against Afghan and Coalition forces were on the rise.  Across the twelve American PRTs, one of our sister units in Panjshir province suffered the sudden loss of four team members, including the unit commander during a vehicle-borne IED attack on one of their convoys.  The tragedy hit all of us hard, and was particularly difficult for me since the PRT commander was a personal friend of mine, someone I had recently worked with in the Pentagon.  The two of us had in fact volunteered together and formed a strong bond over the course of our training and deployment.  Within a week of the Panjshir attack, my own unit suffered a serious blow when an ambush caught one of our convoys traveling back from Bagram Air Base one evening.  The ensuing enemy fire took out one of our vehicles and left the driver severely wounded—only the quick action of his fellow teammates saved the soldier’s life.  About two weeks later, I’ll never forget how that same soldier managed to render me a salute from his post-trauma recovery room at Walter Reed, signaling his steadfast commitment to the PRT members still deployed in Afghanistan.  That soldier and his dear wife and family will forever bear witness to the cost of noble purpose and the profession of arms.

The most vivid illustration of the connection between individual character and noble purpose came during the last week of our nine-month deployment.  One of our responsibilities was to prepare the follow-on team to take our place.  The new cadre would require the benefit of our experience to know how to mitigate the risk to their own personnel—understand which mountain passes and turns in the road presented the likeliest setup for an ambush or IED attack.  One such familiarization mission posed a significant risk to my personnel and the inbound team, an arduous eight-hour convoy patrol into one of the most hostile sectors of our mission area.  Along with the responsibility of executing the mission was the awareness that our nine-month deployment was nearly over—freedom from the stress of mounted combat patrols and the welcome embrace of loved ones were right around the corner.  And yet, duty compelled my team to face the ever-present risk of an insurgent attack one more time.  I could not have been more proud of my team.  Once the decision was made, they suited up and executed the arduous mission flawlessly, confident in their training and preparation—and most importantly, armed with the confidence derived from a sense of noble purpose—“if the job was easy, they would have sent someone else to do it—but they sent us, the United States military.”  I’ll never forget that sentiment which characterized the spirit of my team as they painstakingly executed their mission.

As The Airman’s Creed affirms, the American Airman is a warrior who has answered the nation’s call,  “faithful to a proud heritage, a tradition of honor, and a legacy of valor.”  The phrase “I Am” precedes each of its five sections, emphasizing the degree to which the profession of arms has more to do with who we are than what we do—or better said, that virtuous character ultimately forms the essential foundation for noble action.[2]  It speaks to our guiding principles—integrity, service, excellence—the things that motivate us to take up the mantle of service and sacrifice to defend the nation, even to the extent of laying down life and limb for the airman next to us.[3]  Aristotle noted that character is “that which reveals choice, shows what sort of thing a man chooses or avoids in circumstances where the choice is not obvious . . .”[4]  Raising one’s hand and taking the oath of commission or enlistment may happen in a single moment, but loyalty to core values is something we exercise across the countless small choices we make every day as members of the profession of arms.  Our commitment, “service before self,” elevates the needs of the nation, the Service and our fellow airmen above our own interests.  This noble purpose ranks among the most essential and distinctive attributes of the profession of arms.    

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[1] I am grateful to Dr. Albert C. Pierce, Professor of Ethics and National Security at National Defense University for his insight on the nature of unlimited liability as one of the distinct qualities of the Profession of Arms.

[2] For further discussion on the association of identity and the creeds of the military services, see Ann E. Rondeau, “Identity in the Profession of Arms,” Joint Forces Quarterly 62 (3^rd Qtr, 2011), 10-13.

[3] For further discussion, see The Armed Forces Officer (NDU Press, 2007), 12.  

[4] See Aristotle, Poetics, cited in The Armed Forces Officer (NDU Press, 2007), 44.   

Honorable Failure: A Practical Guide to Harakiri

Colonel Timothy Kirk
The Senior Afghan Hand
ISAF Joint Interagency Task

              Honorable Failure: A Practical Guide to Harakiri

Who doesn’t like a good Samurai tale of legendary honor?  Who can resist the appeal of a culture dripping with the nobility of Bushido – the way of the warrior?  Most folks can recite the storyline of the dishonored medieval Japanese warrior by heart: the disgraced, noble fighting man in ceremonial dress would kneel, draw his short tanto blade, and reverently plunge the knife into himself.  In committing this final ritual act of Seppuku (or Harakiri to us foreigners who read the letters backwards), a warrior could restore lost honor for a variety of failings by sacrificing his own life.  The implication of such a brutal and terminal practice is clear: true honor demands great sacrifice, a warrior must preserve it through the most serious means, and the notion of honorable failure is unthinkable.

Yet while myths of Bushido practices and codes abound, we now know that much of this “history” was not a medieval tradition as much as it was a modern distortion carefully crafted to exploit people.  The term Bushido wasn’t even really used much until the 20^th Century to support a specific agenda.  In the years prior to World War II, Japanese Imperialists created propaganda using Bushido legends as role models for Japanese citizens.  It certainly got men fired up to fight, but it also did a lot of harm to society.  In fact, it likely cost Japan dearly during the war.  The Bushido ethos resulted in fighter aircraft designed without safety features or self-sealing fuel cells, naval vessels without fire control equipment and procedures, and a de-emphasis on tactical communications—not to mention an unwillingness to negotiate terms in obvious strategic defeat.  How did Bushido create such harm?  The answer provides an excellent example for those of us interested in the study of how failure impacts our character.

Japanese myth-builders created an extreme notion of character and honor.  Warriors were expected to be self-sacrificing, lone-wolf-minded, and fatalistic.  The Emperor needed them to defeat the enemy, but should the enemy manage to win a battle, he expected warriors to accept their fate with silent, noble “honor” to the ultimate extent.  They dealt with failure through an arcane expectation of self-destruction.  If a warrior lost a fight, they wasted no time in accepting their ritualistic duty within the context.  It was better to die in battle than to return home with the shame of defeat.  The Bushido made failure in performance a moral equivalent of a fatal failure in character.  The impact was final.

The resulting mindset made learning very difficult.  Loss was not seen as an avenue for introspection and study, but a fatal blow in itself.  The implications meant that routinized attempts at saving defeated warriors’ lives were themselves shameful efforts.  Engineering, weaponry, tactics and operational design all bore the moral burden of this mythos—life was not worth preserving if damage came at enemy hands.  Bushido limited prospects for success by inculcating a spirit in men that obliged them to think about the wrong things, or the right things in the wrong way for success.  Performance suffered, and authentic character died.

Today, we don’t observe mythological doctrines, yet we still contend with the question of how to deal with failure, and it is helpful to draw a distinction between failure in performance and failure in character.  The lesson of the Bushido myth suggests we pay close attention to the nature of failure’s causes; while failure in performance can certainly result from failure in personal character, it is not always the root cause.  At the same time, it should remain among the suspects.  Misattribution of the causes lead to future failures, so success requires honest intellectual rigor.  When failure occurs, consequences certainly follow and must be accepted.  Those consequences may be dire, but they should never be so extreme that they are fatal to our learning.  Any intellectual, emotional or actual version of Harakiri upon failure distracts us from determining if such a causal relationship truly exists and how it can be fixed. 

As it was for the Imperial Japanese military, proof of character can be found in real-world performance.  Yet an idealized form of character that looks good on paper is no substitute for results in the field.  Positive results are the product of years of learning, trial and error, and observation.  Failure is an important part of that process because it draws our attention to lessons we must learn.  If we abort the learning process, we disrupt and limit performance.  If our intention is to perform well, whatever the context, learning from failure becomes a paramount virtue.  Dealing with small failures as they occur can also prevent much larger failures down the road.  The practice of ignoring or forgetting performance failure invites catastrophe and erodes personal character.

Character failures can be just as catastrophic and yet are far more insidious.  Lapses in integrity, stewardship and other elements of personal character are hard-to-see and hard-to-admit root causes of failure.  While these kinds of failures are hard to confront, even world-class performance cannot overcome uncorrected character flaws.  We must consider character implications in every failure and do our best to fix any errors we find.  Shouldn’t we expect such errors?  The truth is that all men are corruptible.  Good character is the exception to humanity’s rule.  None of us can expect personal perfection.  If we intend to improve upon that condition, it is important to admit the truth and realize that we commit ourselves to high moral standards in opposition to our own nature.  That is not to suggest we should tolerate such failures.  Tools do exist that help us to achieve excellent character in our lives; but lofty idealism, unrealistic expectations and mythic notions are not among them.  Accountability, transparency and authenticity are far more valuable and effective for this purpose, and with them our character can improve even in the midst of failure.

As leaders, we must contend with the reality that failure both reveals and impacts our character.  Self-destruction cannot restore lost honor, but the self-awareness failure produces can help us improve our character, developing honorable virtues like humility and perseverance.  The best leaders are not those who never fail, but rather those who perform and deliver despite many failures.  While Samurai folklore may have us believe that the only virtue in failure is in the Harakiri, the truth is the opposite. Failure has value not in the termination of thinking, but in the inspiration of thinking, and the latter is the beginning of honorable failure.

Developing character through failure: The most important lesson I have learned

Wm. T. (Bill) Robinson III

President, American Bar Association

Developing character through failure:  The most important lesson I have learned

As President of the American Bar Association, I am privileged to lead the largest voluntary professional association in the world.  Achieving this leadership position did not come easily.  Did I develop strength of character through disappointments, as well as successes, from time to time along the way?  Absolutely.  However, I would not describe those disappointments as “failures.”  Each and every time I faced disappointment, I learned a valuable lesson and became stronger to face adversity the next time. 

Over the course of my 40-year professional career as a lawyer in private practice, the most important lesson I have learned is that professionalism is never out of style.  Professionalism is embodied in how we conduct ourselves each and every day, even when we are not seen by others.  Professionalism includes the qualities we demonstrate with others, including dignity, equality and respect; as well as the goals we aspire to achieve, in our careers and in our lifetimes. 

 

As a lawyer, I have been privileged to represent a wide variety of clients, including individuals, companies and government agencies.  One of my greatest joys is to do something that lawyers all across America do every day:  stand before a judge in a courtroom and say:  Good morning, your Honor, Bill Robinson representing Jane Smith.”

 

I never tire of that or take it for granted, because  for me it symbolizes the essence of professionalism.  By representing the best interests of others, whether it is in a courtroom, at a deposition or a real estate closing, I always make every effort to put the interests of my clients ahead of my own as a matter of fiduciary responsibility.  That is professionalism at its core.

The first time I became aware of the potential value and positive impact of professionalism was when I was 9 years old.  I grew up in a working-class neighborhood in Cincinnati.  My dad held two full-time jobs, working as a postal clerk and a janitor, to support our family.  By the time I was 9, my parents were bringing me along to help clean medical office buildings.  They taught me the dignity of hard work and the importance of doing a job well.  They were the first to show me that, in their words, “doing the job right the first time,” no matter how menial the task, is essential to professionalism.  
 

At the age of 14, I left home to enroll in a local seminary.  The educational and spiritual experience of the next five years was constructive and beneficial in every way. Eventually, however, in the summer of 1964, I realized reluctantly that the clergy was not my calling.  I knew I wanted to serve others, but I was not sure how best to achieve that purpose.

 

Three pieces of literature helped guide me toward the law. I read about Alexis de Tocqueville, the political scientist and world traveler, who authored “Democracy in America” and toured this country in the 19th century.  He saw in America something he found nowhere else in his world travels.  He called it “a habit of the heart,” which I believe translates into the enduring spirit of volunteerism in our nation.

 

I had also studied “A Man for all Seasons,” Robert Bolt’s classic play about Sir Thomas More, the Lord Chancellor of England, who refused to compromise his values and was beheaded by Henry VIII.  Finally, I read “To Kill a Mockingbird,” the Pulitzer Prize–winning novel written by Harper Lee. 

Thomas More and Atticus Finch, the lead character in Lee’s book, were professionals who stayed true to their principles.  They followed the rules but knew there were certain compromises that could not be conceded without sacrificing one’s self respect and integrity.  They had a conviction of conscience that guided them and fortified their character in the law and in life.

So with those role models in mind, I grew increasingly interested in a legal career.  I started going to the courthouse and various law offices in my community to watch lawyers at work.  I was enthralled by what I witnessed.  It was then I decided to become a lawyer in the service of others.

My law school experience was satisfying but challenging.  I sold my car to pay for the first semester’s tuition and books.  I worked as a night watchman so I could study all night “on the job” and attend classes full time during the day.  Joan and I married and started our family with the birth of our first son.  Soon after graduation, I co-founded a two-person law firm with a close friend and classmate from law school. 

My partner and I took in every piece of business that walked in the door as we struggled to build a practice and name recognition in Northern Kentucky.  We learned early on that to be hired and re-hired, we had to get on a potential client’s radar screen; then show the clients that we were competent, dependable and efficient.  Our growing reputation as well as our professional handling of cases and client relationships helped sustain us as referrals from other lawyers and members of the community started to flow in.

 

During those early years, I was told by a friend that “we never learn anything while we are talking.”  That piece of advice has made a difference throughout my career, but especially in the beginning.  The more I listened, the more I learned about how to treat clients, co-workers and members of the community. I remembered birthdays and anniversaries, and I said hello to people on an elevator or in a hallway.  I wrote notes (and later sent emails, as technology improved) to new business associates or acquaintances as I tried to build a network — a growing community of relationships — for our firm and our growing law practice. 

Remember that compassion and kindness can go a long way, as can thoughtfulness.  That is another, less often mentioned, side of professionalism.  It is not enough to be responsible and reliable, it is also important to show consideration — and when needed, compassion — for others along the way.

Persistence is another part of professionalism.  There is no guaranteed success in the courtroom, in the organized bar or even in the civic arena.  Others taught me to take the high road early and often.  I ran for president of the student government at Thomas More College and lost … but then won the outstanding senior award.  I ran for president of the student bar at the University of Kentucky College of Law and lost … but then made the law journal and the moot court board.  I ran for president of the Kenton County Bar Association and lost … but continued to volunteer; I received the distinguished service award the next year.  With each defeat and subsequent victory, I learned that I could do well by doing good.  I could achieve more by working to make a positive difference in the lives of those I have had the privilege to serve.  

For lawyers, volunteer service for others — in addition to our responsibilities to our clients or our employers — is not just what we do, it is who we are.  Volunteer service is part of our professional DNA.  It expanded my network of contacts and enhanced my legal and time-management skills.  Most importantly, volunteerism, for me, reinforced two essential qualities of every great lawyer who shows the highest levels of professionalism: leadership and empathy. 

In these challenging economic times, one might suspect that professionalism might be subject to compromise.  But that is not the case.  Again, professionalism is never out of date.  It is timeless and essential to how we conduct ourselves in the face of adversity or success.

Whatever our career choice or path, professionalism should characterize everything that we do.  Always strive for the highest standards of performance and professional responsibility.  Look for ways to serve others.  Build constructive relationships that will enhance our career.  If we do, we will experience a rewarding career of personal and professional fulfillment.

Failing Well Enhances Character Development

Commander Scott Waddle
Former Skipper of the USS Greenville

Failing Well Enhances Character Development

Life isn’t fair. There will always be someone who is smarter, stronger and better than you.  Your best effort will sometimes fall short and never be good enough no matter how hard you try.  It seems the only equalizer in life is death.  Even in death the path some follow to get there doesn’t seem fair.  So why even try if failure is certain? The resilience of the human spirit is what makes us unique and separates us from the rest of the creatures on earth.  When faced with failure we basically have three choices: withdraw and quit, waffle and do nothing, or try and figure out what went wrong, learn from it and try again until we succeed.  Learning to fail well provides an opportunity to push beyond barriers once thought to be impenetrable and a chance to develop ones character.

I envy toddlers (children ages one to four) and ankle biters (think pre K).  When kids play and begin to socialize with their peers, they have an uncanny ability to embrace setbacks, cast them aside and try again with greater vigor and determination until they achieve success.  They are fearless and know no boundaries or limits.  The fear of failing does not register with them.

Playing is a vital part of a child’s life and an opportunity for them to socialize experiment and try new things.  As children mature and they become more self aware, the consequences of their failures and how they deal with setbacks shapes their behavior and character.

When I graduated from the Naval Academy in 1981 I was unable follow in the footsteps of my dad, an Air Force pilot, because I didn’t have 20/20 uncorrected vision. I chose the submarine service instead and embarked on what would be an incredible twenty year journey. 

Getting to command was not easy.  Competition was fierce and opportunity for failure was high. Success was primarily achieved by balancing risk versus the gain.  If you were too cavalier or risk averse the chances of getting to command became more difficult.

Early in my command of the GREENEVILLE, during one of my weekly meetings with my squadron commander, I learned some of my fellow commanding officers were experiencing high turnover and attrition.  The same problem existed on my boat which I attributed to command climate.  In my boat’s case it was a matter of stopping the verbal abuse and hostility that existed on board.  As the Captain when I demonstrated that I cared for the professional development of my crew, their personal and family well being I won their confidence and trust. The hostility ceased and the crew worked as a team.  In the end my crew would be the best recruiters, pulling talent from across the globe.

Some of my crew members were disenchanted and simply hated their job.  My challenge was to help them understand the importance of their contribution to the boat’s operations, the team and mission success.  Often it wasn’t easy trying to convince an 18 year old, who was scrubbing out urinals and toilets, doing some other crewmember’s laundry or peeling potatoes how their efforts were contributing to protecting our nation from the bad guys.  I worked hard at it and in the end was successful.

Other captains were giving up on sailors and kicking them out of the Navy at an alarming rate.  When I shared with them my success stories they responded, “Too much effort.  It’s easier to give them the boot.”  Disappointed with the response I asked my squadron commander and his boss Rear Admiral Al Konetzni the Commander Submarine Pacific to transfer the hard case sailors from other boats to my command.  Over a two year period 29 careers were salvaged.  Those that had suffered defeat and chronic failure blossomed and succeeded on the GREENEVILLE.  My crew and I embraced these sailors and found the right fit for them onboard.  We knew each person was of value but they needed encouragement and guidance to succeed.  Once they learned how to fail well, success for them just took a little more effort on their part. While working with these sailors I would learn that for a sailor to respect their leaders they had to first respect themselves.

Leadership success aside; in command, the rules were simple. Don’t run your ship aground.  Don’t hit anything.  Don’t kill anybody (unless it is the enemy) and keep the core covered (think reactor safety).  I violated two of the rules on 9 February 2001 and on 1 October 2001 was invited to leave the Navy.

 At age 41 on February 9^th 2001 while in command of the submarine USS GREENEVILLE (SSN 772), an improved LOS ANGELES Class Fast Attack Submarine operating off the coast of my home port Pearl Harbor, I experienced a life changing event.  That Friday afternoon with civilian visitors on board I ordered an emergency surface maneuver that caused my submarine to collide with a Japanese fisheries training vessel the Ehime Maru killing nine civilians.  The accident took the lives of four seventeen year old students, two instructors and three crew members.

After two years in command I was comfortable and confident in my ability to lead my crew.  We had achieved unprecedented success up until the day of our collision.  After the accident, the two week long Court of Inquiry would document the details that contributed to the cause of the accident.  I was found guilty of dereliction of duty and intentionally hazarding my vessel.  The actions I took that day I thought at the time were prudent.  I was wrong.  That’s usually the case with hindsight being 20/20.

The accident had a dramatic impact on my life, my crew and the family members who lost loved ones.  My personal failure caused significant emotional and physical stress. Despite the strong desire to preserve my personal and professional reputation, by trying to place blame elsewhere, I chose to keep my integrity and character intact.  I took responsibility for my actions and the actions of my crew.

I ended up losing the job I loved the most because of arrogance and the belief that accidents happened to other ships and not to us.  My crew was extremely talented.  We backed each other up.  I thought we were better than those that had bitten the big bullet.  Unfortunately that arrogance exists today in commands across the military and in board rooms around the globe.  The challenge is to recognize the flaw and ferret it out.

Nothing in my training provided me with a formal procedure or instruction as to what to do if I “fell on my sword”.  All I had to go by were leadership classes at the Academy.  In the operational fleet there were incident and mishap reports as well as case studies that documented collisions, groundings, equipment damage, personnel injury and loss of life.  In the fleet most of the resources were part of a continuing training program that required periodic review.  Learning how to balance the risk was a skill acquired through personal failure and observing others fail.  I learned early in my career that it was less painful to learn from someone else’s mistakes. One of my old captains used to say, “If the heat’s on you it ain’t on me.  Remember Waddle to keep the spot light off you and on the other guy.”

Had I not learned to “fail well” early in life the choices I made following the incident most likely would have been different. Thoughts of placing blame elsewhere and trying to dodge the bullet were instinctive but I pushed the thoughts aside.  The reason I chose to take the moral high ground was simple.  It was the right thing to do.  In command accountability and responsibility is absolute. The same holds true in the corporate arena.  It is sad that most leaders that experience failure of this magnitude do not fail well. They spend their efforts covering their rear end.

Some of the role models I had growing up were my parents, teachers, coaches, clergy, bosses and scout masters. Each offered encouragement when I failed and sometimes provided a reality check when my goals were too lofty or unrealistic.  As I matured success was measured in small incremental steps. The failures served to humble me and teach me humility as well as perseverance.  Over time I would learn what my strengths and weaknesses were.  Dealing with weakness is tough but a necessity.  I learned to shore up areas that warranted work and supplement my weakness by recruiting those who were strong in areas where I was not and openly acknowledging my weakness.  The process built trust and respect with those I worked with.

Eleven years later I still reflect on what could have happened or would have happened if only the accident not occurred.  Most of us have had our “There by the grace of GOD go I moments.”   You might call them something else. In my post Navy career I am a public speaker, executive coach and consultant.  The audiences I speak before and customers are leaders who have experienced success in the past but for the first time in their lives are facing failure.  The challenge for most of them is they have not learned how to fail well.  My job is to help people get back on track and move forward.

I challenge you to look in the mirror and candidly determine if you fail well.  If you do not fail well find a mentor and learn how to.  If you do fail well help others learn the skill.  Your character development will only suffer if you chose the easy path by waffling, doing nothing or giving up.

Many successful leaders have learned to fail well. A few of them are Thomas Edison, Henry Ford, Walt Disney, Bill Gates, Sir James Dyson and Steve Jobs.  Take a few minutes and search for Steve Jobs’ 2005 Stanford commencement speech. You won’t be disappointed.

At some point, you will fail.  Don’t give up.  Fail well!

How you Lead those you Perceive as Uncommitted? Start by Looking in the Mirror

Dr. Gordy Curphy
President, Curphy Consulting Corp.

How do you Lead those you Perceive as Uncommitted?

Start by Looking in the Mirror

Gordy Curphy, PhD

Curphy Consulting Corporation

        How one leads those perceived to be uncommitted is a critically important question. Unfortunately the knee-jerk responses to this question from people in charge are often something like: “these people are losers”, “they just don’t get it”, or “some of my employees came directly from the Island of the Misfit Toys.”  Although there may be some truth to these assessments, they are essentially variations of blaming the victim. Adopting this attitude effectively absolves the people in charge from taking any responsibility for changing uncommitted followers and developing a deeper understanding of why employees become uncommitted (Argyris, 1991). The purpose of this article is to help readers understand three factors relevant to follower commitment and what they can do get followers reengaged.

The Fundamental Attribution Error

The fundamental attribution error (Millerand and Ross, 1975) comes from social psychology and describes people’s biases when assigning causation to success and failure. Essentially people are biased to credit personal factors for their own successes and blame situational factors or luck for their own failures. Precisely the opposite is true when assigning causality to others; people are more likely to ascribe luck or situational factors to others’ successes and personal factors for others’ failures. This means that if people in charge believe uncommitted followers are failures (and they do) then they are much more likely to attribute character flaws, upbringing, or ethnicity rather than situational factors as the underlying reasons for followers’ low commitment levels. This is unfortunate, as situational factors often play a predominant role in employee commitment and engagement. 

The Freedom to Flee and the Fundamental Attribution Error

There are three critical situational factors affecting follower commitment, and these include the freedom to flee (Hogan, 2007) managerial incompetence (Hughes, Ginnett, and Curphy, 2011), and an organization’s performance management system. Hogan (2007) maintains that leadership only matters when followers have some choice to stay or leave an employer. If followers have no option but to more or less work at gunpoint, then leaders’ efforts to build teams or get followers to exert extra effort will fall far short of expectations. And “working at gunpoint” may be much more prevalent than commonly believed. For example, the United States military has an all-volunteer force, and once people sign up they cannot leave until their tours of duty have been completed. They have no say in when and where they go, how often they go, how long they are gone, what they do, and who they work for or with during their entire tour of duty. At this point some military units have been to Iraq or Afghanistan a half dozen times. Given this lack of choice and the number of tours endured it is hardly surprising that some soldiers lack commitment.

The working at gunpoint analogy is not unique to the military. Given an unemployment rate hovering around nine percent, underwater mortgages, non-compete contracts, and a health care system that severely limits mobility, many private sector workers have little real choice in jobs and employers. And with no relief in sight with respect to the economy, the housing market, or serious health care reform, those who are employed feel lucky just to have a job. People with limited occupational freedom may not like the situation and will probably do as they are told, but compliance is a lot different than commitment.

Managerial Incompetence and the Fundamental Attribution Error

            The second major situational factor at play with follower commitment levels is managerial incompetence. Although there are some distinctions between leadership and management, both essentially involve building cohesive, goal-oriented teams and getting results (Hughes, Ginnett, and Curphy, 2011; Hogan, 2011). Effective leaders and managers are those who can consistently do both; incompetent managers are those who cannot build teams and/or get results. Research shows the base rate of managerial incompetence may range between 50-75 percent (Hughes, Ginnett, and Curphy, 2011; Hogan, 2007).  Readers might think that this estimate is far too high, but if they counted the total number of people they had worked for in the past and identified those of this group they would willingly work for again then this estimate may not be far from the truth. And this ratio of willingly work for/total number of bosses seems to be fairly consistent across both the public and private sectors—most people feel that only a minority of military and civilian leaders are actually any good at it. Research and personal experience suggest that most people in positions of authority are not very good at building teams that actually win. 

Performance Management Systems and the Fundamental Attribution Error

A final situational factor affecting followers’ commitment levels concerns an organization’s performance management system. Most performance management systems consist of two major components: how things get done (i.e., competencies) and what gets accomplished (i.e., results). In many cases flaws in these two components perpetuate the managerial incompetence problem described earlier. To better understand these flaws it is necessary to take a hard look at why people in the public and private sector get promoted. Does an organization’s performance management system promote people because they have demonstrated an ability to build teams that beat the competition or because they never get into trouble and do everything they can to please their bosses?  The group with the best information about a leader’s team building competencies are direct reports, yet they are rarely asked for their inputs. And the results obtained is often of little help in differentiating effective from incompetent managers. This is because the vast majority of metrics found in most organizations are variations of navel-gazing, in that they are nothing more than comparisons against past performance. A team may have generated five percent more revenues or reduced costs by 20 percent from the year before, but the lack of external benchmarks makes it difficult to determine whether these results are any better than those achieved by other teams. It is not hard to see why followers become disenfranchised when the pathway to their boss’ career success is being a dutiful suck up who focuses on obtaining results that do not really matter.

How to Turn Around Uncommitted Followers

Managerial incompetence, a lack of occupational choice, and poor performance management systems are in and of themselves enough to drive followers to compliance rather than commitment. But when a revolving door of bad bosses is combined with an inability to flee then committed followers may actually be more the exception than the rule. And there is quite a bit of evidence to show that employee commitment levels are at all time lows. Employee satisfaction and engagement levels as measured by organizational surveys are lower than ever before (Aon Consulting, 2011) and the military has to offer ever greater incentives to get soldiers to re-enlist (Associated Press, 2007; Army Times, 2009). These results speak volumes about the pervasiveness of the uncommitted employee problem.  

No doubt there are some followers who remain uncommitted no matter who is in charge and how much freedom they have to leave. But this group is likely a small minority—most people come to work to succeed. So what can people in charge do to change the situational factors affecting follower commitment? Perhaps the first and most important step is to look into the mirror. Far too many people in positions of authority believe they are leadership legends in their own minds but are seen as charismatically challenged in the eyes of others. Shrinking the gap between self and others’ perceptions and improving those skills needed to build teams and get results are vital for people wanting to create committed followers. Yet getting accurate feedback about one’s strengths and shortcomings is not as easy as it may seem. It is relatively easy to administer 360-degree feedback surveys, but the accuracy of these ratings, particularly when direct reports have limited occupational choice, can be suspect (Curphy, 1991). Direct reports are likely to provide glowing ratings when the sword of Damocles is hanging over their heads, and more often than not bosses pull punches and peers can be too far removed from a ratee’s day-to-day work behaviors to have much confidence in the accuracy of their ratings. The end result is that most leaders may think they are doing a good job, have “data” to back up this belief, yet still be in charge of a sizable number of uncommitted followers.

Those in positions of authority who are truly interested in getting some unadulterated feedback about their leadership effectiveness should go through a comprehensive managerial assessment process (Hughes, Ginnett, and Curphy, 2008).  This process typically consists of a structured interview, mental abilities tests, personality and work values inventories, various work simulations, and 360-degree feedback. These particular components assess many of the leading causes of managerial incompetence and provide participants with a more accurate and comprehensive picture of their ability to build teams and get things done through others.

Because most employees want to win and tend to rebel against a lack of choice, there are several other things leaders can do to improve follower commitment levels. One of these involves setting and being held accountable for team goals that are benchmarked against comparable teams. Given the abundance of information that is available through the Internet it is possible to find benchmarking data for just about every goal imaginable. Working with direct reports to set team goals and benchmarks, create strategies and tactics to achieve these goals, and conduct periodic reviews of goal progress are fundamental but often overlooked steps in teaching teams how to win. These actions also provide direct reports with some degree of choice, and whenever possible leaders need to provide direct reports with latitude to make the decisions needed to get tasks accomplished. As George S. Patton once said, “Never tell people how to do things. Tell them what to do and they will surprise you with their ingenuity.“

In conclusion, it is entirely possible to create teams of loyal and committed direct reports. But to do so people in positions of authority need to avoid blaming the victim and instead give serious thought to how their own behaviors, a lack of choice, and faulty performance management systems contribute to the creation of uncommitted followers.  Many of the actions needed to create engaged employees are directly under leader’s control; whether he or she chooses to do anything about it is another matter.

References

Aon Hewitt. (2011). Trends in Global Employee Engagement.  Chicago, IL: Author.

Argyris, C. (1991). “Teaching Smart People How to Learn.”  Harvard Business Review. Reprint Number 91301.

Army Times, “Army Bonuses”, 2009, http://www.armytimes.com/news/2007/09/army_bonuses_070910w/.

Associated Press. “Military Pay Soars.”  April 11, 2007, http://military.com/NewsContent

Curphy, G.J. (1991). “Some Closing Remarks about the Use of Self- and Other-Ratings of Personality and Behaviors.” In M.D. Dunnette (Chair), Multi-rater Assessment Systems: What We’ve Learned.  99^th American Psychological Association Convention, San Francisco, CA.

Hogan, R.T. (2007). Personality and the Fate of Organizations. Mahawh, NJ: Lawrence Erlbaum Associates.

Hogan, R.T. (2011).  Leadership 101: A Brief Interview with Dr. Robert Hogan.  Tulsa, OK: Hogan Assessment Systems. 

Hughes, R.L., Ginnett, R.C., & Curphy, G.J. (2011). Leadership: Enhancing the Lessons of Experience (7^th ed.).  Burr Ridge, IL: McGraw-Hill Irwin.

Hughes, R.L., Ginnett, R.C., & Curphy, G.J. (2008). Leadership: Enhancing the Lessons of Experience (6^th ed.).  Burr Ridge, IL: McGraw-Hill Irwin.

Millerand, D.T. & Ross, M. (1975) “Self-Serving Biases in the Attribution of Causality: Fact or Fiction?” Psychological Bulletin, 82, pp. 213-225.