Leading soldiers is easier said than done. Reflecting on twelve months leading an engineer platoon in the 173rd Infantry Brigade Combat Team (Airborne), I arrived both technically and tactically prepared for the position. But I was not ready for what my soldiers expected of me: More than expectation, they demanded that their leader live a heroic level of selflessness and sacrifice.
This revelation caught me by surprise right from the start. On my first training exercise with the platoon, two of my soldiers were out on a detail while hot chow was being served. I had a meeting halfway through the dinner hours, so I ate before they got back so that I wouldn’t miss my meeting. I explained with perfectly reasonable logic why I was eating dinner before two of my soldiers were: If I didn’t eat at that moment, I would not have another chance to eat later. From their looks and shrugs, my soldiers were dissatisfied.
Later on, my commander justly chewed me out for not monitoring my radio and chat frequently enough. As a result, I made the decision to sleep in my HMMWV next to the computer. Now, anyone who has slept in the TC seat of a soft-top HMMWV knows that, barring a T-11 harness, it’s one of the least comfortable places to sleep. But that night it drizzled a little bit, and when my soldiers woke up and saw me dry in the HMMWV, it did not matter why I’d slept there, how uncomfortable I’d been, how little sleep I’d gotten, or even whether I was any drier than they were (I wasn’t). The only relevant fact was that I had not shared their particular suffering, and something in that wasn’t right. Perspective is an individual reality…and their reality mattered.
Superhuman Virtue?
New lieutenants are commonly subjected to both naively high expectations and cynically low stereotypes. Young soldiers often expect the impossible from their leaders. Alternatively, seasoned NCOs who have encountered sub-par lieutenants sometimes set the bar so low for their platoon leaders that a private could reach it: “Sir, just sit there and type your CONOP. I’ll handle the platoon.” Psychological research demonstrates time and again that humans conform to others’ expectations. However, I did not think that this was the case here. I concluded that these experiences with my soldiers deserved more attention than I gave them, and my conscience insisted that I had not made the right calls.
The obvious answer to me was that these had been well-calculated decisions to attain mission success; no one thinks well on an empty stomach, and the computer had to be monitored all through the night. And of course, this type of analysis is necessary in any organization: leaders must collect data, analyze it, produce and weigh different courses of action, then make a decision. This logical decision making has a utilitarian feel to it, as leaders weigh something akin to the “greatest-happiness principle” for their troops. If I can be more comfortable myself without lowering the comfort of my soldiers, then I should make myself more comfortable to raise the mean happiness of the platoon, right? Optimization of outcomes is the goal, and whatever decisions leaders make should serve that goal.
However, I quickly discovered that my platoon performed and responded best when I subjected myself to equal or worse hardships than they themselves were experiencing. When I took myself out of the “comfort equation,” the average morale of my soldiers actually increased by seeing their leader bearing worse miseries than even they were, for their sake.
But of course this was not and is not easy. Intentionally subjecting yourself to extra hardships and inconveniences is not something that comes naturally. In many cases it is so unnatural that it might reasonably be compared to what Aristotle called “superhuman virtue.” This virtue does not follow the ordinary rules of human behavior, which tend to make sense and be understandable. In contrast, “superhuman virtue” defies rational explanation. A simply virtuous man would be kind to a stranger. Such an action is often in his self-interest, whether for possible future gain or even just psychological fulfillment. But a superhumanly virtuous man might anonymously lay down his life for a stranger. There can be no future material gain from this act, and the psychological fulfillment would be rather fleeting.
Heroic Virtue
A strict following of Aristotle’s definition is impossible to perform. Fortunately, this idea was taken on and modified by Augustine of Hippo and later philosophers under the term “heroic virtue.” It referred to the courage of the early Christian martyrs and was used as a measure for recommending individuals for sainthood. Heroic virtue, as opposed to “superhuman virtue,” eventually came to be understood as something of a habit. It is one in which a person acts virtuously with such ease, consistency, and disregard for self that the motives and strength to do so appear supernatural. It is the ability to give of oneself over and over and over again to the people around, with a joy and willingness that is difficult to justify by personal gain. This is the kind of virtue that surpasses calculating logic (like my own), and it is the character that was demanded by my paratroopers.
Why did they demand it?
They demanded it because it is an expectation ingrained in them through the institutional Army from the moment they joined. ADP 6-22, the Army’s doctrine on leadership, explicitly uses larger-than-life stories from our Army’s history to demonstrate leader attributes and competencies (e.g., 2nd Lt. Kingston spearheading the charge of a battalion-sized task force in Korea). ADP 6-22 is an invaluable tool for teaching leadership, but also sets a near-impossible standard for the Army’s leaders. Though it does not explicitly say that mastery of all the leader attributes is impossible, any self-aware soldier will quickly realize that they cannot fully live up to this standard. It is exemplified by a quote from General of the Army Omar Bradley at the beginning of chapter 5:
“The non-commissioned officer wearing the chevron is supposed to be the best soldier in the platoon and he is supposed to know how to perform all the duties expected of him. The American soldier expects his sergeant to be able to teach him how to do his job. And he expects even more from his officers.”
The NCO is supposed to be the best, and the ideal officer is supposed to be even better. What is the “even more” that soldiers expect from their officers? It is nothing short of daily heroism on their behalf, both in the office and in the field.
A Psychological Companion Habitual Virtue
Heroic virtue manifests itself most clearly as a conscious and constant effort to put ourselves in our soldiers’ shoes. It means fighting on with the grace, grit, and enthusiasm that we desire in them. It is to psychologically accompany the average soldier by assuming the same and worse burdens that they bear. Every decision that we make should take the experience of our lowest-ranking soldier into consideration and unite our experience with theirs. We need to develop the habit of sharing in the struggles that our soldiers experience on the front lines. But why is this necessary?
Morale
Leading with heroic virtue unquestionably improves the morale of soldiers at every level. When they see their leaders enthusiastically embracing the same hardships that they face, that enthusiasm is contagious. It normalizes the toughest aspects of the Army experience, showing that suffering is not exclusive to the enlisted ranks, but embraced by even the officers. Shared suffering works best when it’s shared by everyone.
In the words of ADP 6-22, “Leaders who personally share hardship and risk demonstrate to subordinates that they are invested in the outcome and willing and able to do what they ask subordinates to do…these build confidence about the judgment, commitment, and attitude of the leader” (1-14). Unfortunately, an all-too-common view among soldiers is that suffering is imposed as training by the officers in the organization, who then create every excuse not to drink from the same cup. While this is partly a result of our current hierarchical structure, striving to match our conditions with theirs as we are able can change this narrative.
Performance
Leaders can feel more confident pushing their soldiers to their limits, to fully actualize their potential, because they themselves can feel the boundaries of their physical abilities and morale in sync with their soldiers – they are better able to place their finger on the pulse of the organization. How else can we know whether we are pushing them too hard or not pushing hard enough? We can and should ask them, but this way can validate their responses with our own experience.
Connection
Leaders make more empathetic decisions for their soldiers when every decision that impacts soldiers’ morale also affects them. What if when leaders complain about buildings not being sparkling clean, that decision actually affected them and their time? Maybe that would manifest itself as an “officer cleaning day” once a month where we take a couple of hours to set the standard for cleanliness in the company or battalion. That decision simply does not happen without understanding the psychological effects of joining the Army and spending your first year as a glorified janitor. Soldiers will trust our decisions more if they know that we will feel the impacts of our decisions just as they will.
A Word of Warning
Like any philosophy, this can be taken too far so that it is a detriment to the organization. As leaders we cannot ignore our unique duties and roles. As a result, we have to balance commiserating with our soldiers against productivity and effective decision making. In the field, the most common pitfall is when leaders give up too much sleep in these pursuits to think coherently. Sleep is a necessity for leaders and cannot be given up in the same way that a soldier pulling shift on the line can. When not in the field, displaying heroic virtue almost always involves giving up time, which we all know is a finite asset. We must always carefully discern what we can commit to our organization while still maintaining a healthy family and mental state. Admittedly, this balancing act is not easy, and is different for every leader.
Another precaution for this approach is that Army leaders tend to be able to push themselves harder than their average soldier. There is thus a temptation to assume that their soldiers can or want to bear as much as their leaders are ready to bear, and this is often a false assumption. The result can be that we push our soldiers as hard as we might push ourselves, which can end up breaking their bodies and wills instead of building them up.
Some Caveats
At this very moment, many lieutenants are already pushing themselves to the brink of their sanity, committing themselves 100% to their work at the expense of everything else. How can we ask any more of them? I suppose that we can’t, but it’s worth noting that small gestures can be as meaningful and useful as big time-consuming ones. A two-minute visit to your soldiers on staff duty can make a world of difference in their morale. One field-grade officer in my battalion regularly writes thank you notes to many of the lieutenants. Though short, they can really brighten a dreary day, even if they only take him thirty seconds to write. And embracing heroic virtue does not necessarily entail doing more – it often just involves realigning priorities. When we take a step back and look at our daily routines, there are some aspects of our duties that may give our organizations less return on investment than quality time spent with our soldiers. We should cut them from our habits if we can — consider constant email checks and perfectionist PowerPoint slides for starters.
It is also true that officers really do have vastly different responsibilities than the average soldier. There are times where we have to be apart from them to grind on work that they will never know about or see. These instances call for us to effectively and empathetically communicate to our soldiers what we are doing, and help them understand how what we are doing fits into the bigger picture of what they actually can see. This is not bragging or complaining; if we don’t do this, then we psychologically separate our mission from theirs. That division can inadvertently tear apart the team mindset of the unit.
I must also acknowledge that these thoughts are the fruit of only one year of platoon leader time in only one platoon, from a lieutenant who is not even one year removed from it all! And this likely sounds like a military science instructor’s attempt at a motivational speech, but on repeat… However, the fact of the matter is this: many new officers join the Army brimming with bright-eyed anticipation about the good that they will bring to their platoons and the world. The whole point of this essay is to explain that those naïve and cliché aspirations we had as new second lieutenants are actually attainable in a meaningful way, but only if we fully embrace them – you can’t just settle for halfway. And they don’t work out at all if some kind of heroic virtue isn’t practiced first. If these goals were naïve, it was only because they were missing their foundation: the heroic virtue that is essential for effective leadership.
Transformational Leadership
Tempered by practical wisdom, this pursuit of heroic virtue in the officer corps has the potential to revive stagnant organizations across the Army. Right now, many officers across the force are missing out on the opportunity to truly make a positive difference in the way their soldiers live and work. James MacGregor Burns wrote in 1978 about transformational leaders, who literally transform those around them for the better. Transformational leadership is not ideal for every organization nor for every relationship. However, it seems especially suited for leadership at the platoon level. Platoon leaders have exceptional room for discretion within their platoons and have relatively impressionable subordinates, who often joined the Army with the very intent of being molded into a better version of themselves! But we cannot effect meaningful positive change in their lives without first pursuing heroic virtue and selflessness in their sight. Heroic virtue is a prerequisite to transformational leadership.
Putting it in Practice
The following are some ways that we might better live a heroic level of virtue in our lives: Heroic virtue means that when officers get to leave the training area during an exercise, they deny themselves the opportunity to eat better food than their soldiers, even if their soldiers would never know about it. It means that when we ask soldiers to put on face paint, we must have it on and reapply it more consistently than anyone else. If our soldiers are wearing their kits in their foxholes, then we are obligated to unite ourselves with them in that burden and wear our kit in the TOC. If there are multiple bus movements back from training, we should be on the last one. Of course these are not binding, but we need to constantly ask ourselves: How can we use every day to reaffirm our personal commitment to our soldiers and our teams?
Back on base, heroic virtue means that when officers could skip or get condensed versions of mandatory training, they don’t and instead attend the classes with their soldiers. It means that we avoid overly extravagant leader development programs that our soldiers are not invited to participate in, and that we go out of our way to be fully present with our soldiers whenever we can. When soldiers are in the motorpool in the rain or snow, their officers should attempt to be out there with them. Heroic virtue means that we open our soldiers’ doors, not just compliantly door-stop ours. It means always making the effort to do PT with soldiers, and to push ourselves harder than anyone else, whether running or lifting or low-crawling in the mud. And this applies not only to platoon leaders, but to leaders at all levels and in every position: company and battalion executive officers, commanders, staff officers, and especially non-commissioned officers.
If I were to relive that meal where I had soldiers still out, I now see it as an opportunity to demonstrate the ideal of a leader heroically serving his soldiers. I would have my soldiers save me a plate, letting them know I would be back for it after my meeting, since there are two soldiers that haven’t eaten yet. What might be going through their mind as they watch that plate grow cold?
It will take us time and maturity to develop the radically others-oriented way of life that is being described. However, it is possible to approach the ideal laid out by the Army and create a lasting difference in the lives of our soldiers and in the readiness of our force. When I arrived at my platoon, I did not know what Burns’ transformational leadership looked like in practice, nor was I confident that I was capable of it in the first place. I now know that to get there, striving for heroic virtue is the first and necessary step, and that may make all the difference for both us and them.
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This article could not have happened without the insights and advice of the following teammates, and I owe them big time: Pete Kilner, Sebastian Conour, Tom Schafer, Adrian Ott, Joy Schaeffer, and Matthew Arbogast.
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