On the Origins of Leadership

I recall the moment it was asked of me: “It’s pretty exciting to be saluted, huh?”

It was not long before hearing that statement that I had been commissioned as a first lieutenant. Though the rank itself is of low authority amongst officers (“LTs,” as they are called, are more accurately viewed as officers-in-training), it nonetheless outranks 80% of the total force—the majority of which is enlisted.

The question struck me oddly. “Why would I care about being saluted,” I pondered to myself. My face was incapable of hiding my disappointment, and the conversation sputtered to an end rather awkwardly; still, part of me recognized the innocent intention of the person’s comment. Indeed, the surface-level appeal of officership, particularly to the uninitiated, is in its authoritative presence.

I later questioned my deep frustration for a comment I believed was misguided at best, and egotistical at worst. It dawned on me that “being saluted” was the antithesis of my motivation for joining the armed forces and was, in fact, at direct odds with my understanding of true military leadership—of any leadership, for that matter.

As may be obvious, newly-minted officers are instructed on the principles of effective leadership. Paradoxically, that effort begins with the study of effective followership. Indeed, it is asked: how can one lead if they’ve yet to discover how to follow?

It seemed to me this was what the individual had misunderstood that day. Being an officer isn’t about the authority of the position; rather, it is about a dedication to servitude. If anything, the notion of officership is to accept greater responsibility for the well-being of others. At the risk of cheapening it (and should I do so, I do apologize), officership is akin to parenthood—a parent is the head-of-household from a hierarchical perspective, but nonetheless finds value only in his or her effectiveness to care for the child (or children) in his or her command.

Would anyone ask of a parent: “it’s pretty exciting to have authority over your kids, huh?”

Certainly not. Such a comment is tone-deaf to the privilege of parenthood as a matter of cherished responsibility.

How can one lead if they've yet to discover how to follow?

Anyone who knows me well knows I am an admirer of bushido—tenets of the Japanese samurai from a bygone era. One of the great minds of that era was Naganuma Muneyoshi, a seventeenth-century military scientist (and samurai) of the Koshu and Takeda Schools. Naganuma-san, in speaking on the “essentials of warfare,” perplexingly describes leadership in the context of love. He explains:

“What is essential is the allegiance of the people … The way wise leaders and intelligent commanders govern subordinates is to inspire sincerity by being sincere … Appreciation of benevolence and submission to duty lead to the will to sacrifice one’s life for the country out of gratitude. It is after this that squads can be organized, orders can be issued, instructions for siege and combat can be given, rewards and penalties can be put into effect… If officers and soldiers have no personal allegiance, then even if you try to train them they won’t practice, and when you issue orders, they won’t obey; if you punish them, they’re resentful, while if you reward them, they get greedy. The military loses its aim, in battle it violates morality. How can you gain victory that way?

This happens when you are affectionate towards the people without really being sincere, and so the soldiers feel no personal allegiance to you. [Yet,] if you can truly love the people with the feeling of caring for an infant, then who would not cleave to you. When those above love those below, then those below feel kinship with those above. Therefore, those above and below are of one mind … their strength is united.”

[Translation by Thomas Cleary in “Training the Samurai Mind”]

Naganuma-san points to a hidden truth about effective leadership: to lead, is to serve.

Naganuma-san derives his conclusions from a distinctly Taoistic perspective; but, consider also the parallel Christian perspective:

“You know that the rulers of the Gentiles lord it over them, and their great ones are tyrants over them. It will not be so among you; but whoever wishes to be great among you must be your servant, and whoever wishes to be first among you must be your slave; just as the Son of Man came not to be served but to serve, and to give his life a ransom for many.” Matthew 20:25-28.

To lead, is to serve.

To covet the authoritative power of leadership, one risks despotism. Indeed, total authority without regard for the well-being of subordinates is the quintessence of despotic rule. And, of course, it will not be long before revolt is on the horizon; certainly, it is probable—inevitable even—that those beneath your command will, at some point, refuse to follow.

But there is a second category of leadership that is also impure, and perhaps more dangerous. I speak of affectionate leadership of feigned underpinnings. This type of leadership is common in today’s society. Imagine, for example, those leaders (that likely spring to your mind almost instantaneously) who appear—at face value—benevolent, who engage in periodic effort to appeal to the needs of subordinates, only to quickly thereafter publish such doings to the world-at-large so that these deeds can be liked, up-voted, and re-tweeted.

These leaders are of a worse kind than the overt dictator. Often, their benevolence is either impulsive (“I should do this, because I’m told this is what good leadership is”) or is motivated (“I should do this, because it will benefit me in the long run”). These leaders appear good, as they do engage in a perfunctory benevolence towards their subordinates, but they are ultimately cancerous. Indeed, the effects of overt dictatorship can be mitigated, avoided, and anticipated; yet, the effects of feigned benevolent leadership result in an initial disarmament of subordinates, who later feel betrayed and eventually calcify with suspicion and distrust.

What is it this second category of leadership lacks?

In bushido, one of the fundamental trait of the samurai was benevolence, codified as bushi no nasake (“the tenderness of a warrior”). But, it was how benevolence was practiced that was key to the samurai’s honor. Samurai benevolence was carefully applied within the confines of a rigid sincerity. Inazo Nitobe remarks in his book, Bushido: The Soul of Japan:

“we were warned against indulging in indiscriminate charity, without seasoning it with justice and rectitude… bushi no nasake implied mercy where mercy was not a blind impulse… the feeling of distress is the root of benevolence, therefore a benevolent man is ever mindful of those who are suffering and in distress. Thus, did Mencius long anticipate Adam Smith who found his ethical philosophy on sympathy.”

Nitobe-san reveals a second hidden truth of effective leadership: to lead, is to serve; but, to serve well, is to act from a place of sincerity.

In recalling the conversations I had that day, it became evident to me that the allure of “being saluted” is to mistake authoritative leadership with servant leadership. A military officer is a breed of the latter variety—full stop. My disdain grew from the oft-made mistake that officership is synonymous with authority; authority, however, is merely a byproduct of servant leadership, whereby men—witnessing compassionate command—willingly submit their will to another. Indeed, anyone can give orders. It is through mutual respect that these orders are rigidly adhered to.

But servant leadership must also be actual, not merely feigned. In this way, if service is the alpha, sincerity is the omega. By using the word “sincerity,” I mean the ability to empathize. How can we serve others well, if we cannot share in their suffering, their fears, and their triumphs? Often, this means leading by example; it is through experiential leadership—leading from the front, as it were—that we learn to understand the burden our orders place on those who follow us.

to serve well, is to act from a place of sincerity.

To wit, one of the revered military officers in the aftermath of WWII was Maj. Richard “Dick” Winters—personified in the HBO mini-series, “Band of Brothers.” He is celebrated, in part, for his willingness to lead with an empathetic view of the hardships faced by his men. He led from the front, at minimum, due to concerns over his command’s effect on his men (Winters writes in his memoir, “casualties had been my greatest concern. Victory would eventually be ours, but the casualties that had to be paid were the price that hurt.”). In return for this empathy, how did his men speak of him? One man, Sergeant Floyd Talbert, wrote of Winters: “Seeing you in the middle of that road, wanting to move, was too much. You were my total inspiration.” Sgt. Talbert concluded, “Dick, you are loved and will never be forgotten by any soldier who ever served under you. You are the best friend I ever had…you were my ideal, and motor in combat…you are, to me, the greatest soldier I could ever hope to meet.”

No, I do not care for being saluted. But I do hope my leadership, whatever small part it may play, affects men’s hearts in knowing they are cared for.

Compassion.

Sincerity.

Servitude.

These are the origins of leadership.

Galatians 5:13