In April, 2016 our Battalion Chaplain, Charlie Shields, was the Primary Jump Master for a Brigade Airborne operation into the Joint Maneuver Training Center just north of Munich. At the point of execution, he was charged with spotting the drop zone and initiating the drop – a huge responsibility.

The Brigade assembled at sunset – and walked all night. Charlie and I, along with my Battalion staff, walked almost 12 miles that night. We didn’t really talk until sunrise. We stopped at the edge of a wood line for a short rest. Like clockwork, Charlie fired up his little stove and started brewing coffee. To me, at that moment, Charlie’s coffee was a miracle – like water into wine.

I’ve worked with so many great Soldiers and leaders – our Army’s best. And, in the same vein, I’ve served with our Army’s best Chaplains.

There really is no corporate equivalent to an Army Chaplain, which is too bad because they have so much to offer. The Chaplain’s responsibilities are vast – and most important in our darkest hours. From our newest Soldiers to our Cabinet Secretary – Chaplains enjoy a uniquely trusted and inspirational position.

Among the best that I’ve seen, perhaps the best, was my Battalion Chaplain, Charlie Shields. Chaplain Charlie Shields is, without question, the most inspirational leader that I have met, known, or served with in 30 years. And, as I reflect on the leaders who have taught me the most…mostly through their example…Charlie Shields is at the top of the list.

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A Little Background....

Though I don’t know his whole story, and the little bit I know isn’t mine to tell, I think it’s fair to share that Charlie grew up in a single-parent home that he left as soon as he could. Charlie joined the Army in 1984…when he was 17 years old. He was assigned to the Army’s 3^rd Ranger Battalion. He passed Ranger School when he was 18 years old.

Following an initial enlistment that included time as a Drill Sergeant and Long-Range Surveillance Team Leader, Charlie left the service…went to college…attended seminary…started a family…started a community congregation…and served as a small-town pastor for 17 years…until he joined the Army again at age 42. In short, Charlie is a tough, old dude…with an awful lot of life experience. Experience that we should learn from.

So – the question –

What is it that makes Charlie such an inspirational leader?

What are the attributes and competencies that he demonstrates…and that we can emulate?

Chaplain Charlie Shields Cares.

Charlie’s selfless love and unending devotion to his congregants are the cornerstones of his inspirational leadership. Everyone within Charlie’s orbit knows that he puts their needs above his own – and serves them first. That’s just the way he’s wired.

I’ve heard Charlie describe leadership as an act of love, and describe how true love, while unconditional, encompasses a balance between disciplined accountability and compassion.

I’ve also heard Charlie describe, and I quote, “How you treat your people and respond to their failures will condition them to either trust you or not. If you are the kind of person that gets angry at every failure, you will condition the people you love to hide their failures because you are not a safe person that they can trust when they are vulnerable.”

The thing about caring…it has to be real. There is no list of things to do to show that you care. If you fake it, your people will know right away. And, if you genuinely care, the cup of coffee at dawn will come naturally.

Chaplain Charlie Shields Leads by Example.

Charlie is a moral exemplar. Charlie Shields does the right and noble thing – every time. Charlie’s actions are always aligned with his values, the visual always matches the audio, his character and integrity are impeccable.

No, he’s not perfect. Yes, I’ve seen Charlie lose his composure, and I’ve even seen him swear once or twice – which is partly why I consider him to be a role model. Despite being a moral and spiritual exemplar and role model, I know that he wrestles with human imperfection, like the rest of us.

Theologically, Chaplain Charlie Shields is Southern Baptist. In practical and professional terms, and as best I can tell, Charlie was baptized and ordained as an Airborne Ranger. Having graduated from Ranger School in 1985, with 168 static line jumps, and six combat deployments, Charlie is certainly one of the most experienced and seasoned leaders in our Army. The result of all that experience…if there is a hard thing to do, or a weight to be carried, or a suffering to be shared – Charlie Shields will be there.

Charlie Shields Connects.

With nearly three decades of practice on the pulpit, Charlie is a gifted and captivating speaker. Frankly, most people would attribute his ability to inspire others to his oratory skills. Charlie has presence – or as the kids say these days – aura; that’s not what I’m talking about.

When my middle son was 11 years old, he came with me to a morning at work. I was a Battalion Commander. We went to the gym with an Infantry squad and then to breakfast with Chaplain Shields. Charlie talked to him for an hour. He listened, looked him in the eye, and reflected on him. Charlie didn’t necessarily talk to my son like he was a peer or an adult but rather met him on his level – with his undivided attention. I remember Charlie looking right at my kid and saying, “Jacob, you are a Sheep Dog. You will be strong, faithful, and vigilant. You will live a life of service, you will help those less fortunate and protect those who can’t protect themselves.” Connection.

This past spring my youngest son received his own acceptance to college. A few weeks later, he received a congratulatory card from Chaplain Charlie Shields. It was warm, heartfelt, and encouraging. Bear in mind, I haven’t served with Charlie in almost a decade; I haven’t seen him in almost a year. That aside, his consistent, present, and authentic communication continues to influence my kids – and certainly me.

Wrapping it Up…

Inspirational leadership is about Caring…so deeply that people know they matter. And, most of the time…the deepest care can be shown in the smallest of ways. Like a cup of coffee at dawn.

Inspirational leadership is about Leading by Example. It’s about doing the right thing, sharing the risk, and carrying the weight...whatever that means to your organization. Sometimes that might mean being the primary Jump Master on a Brigade-sized jump.

Inspirational leadership is about Connection. No, not like a sermon or speech to the crowd, but one on one, eye to eye, over breakfast, without a screen in sight.

In Closing…

As I write this, it occurs to me that Charlie, and our Chaplains at large, bear a heavier burden than most of us realize.

They carry our confessions, unable to unburden themselves of the terrible things they hear.

They are our light. Always present, their job is most acutely important when times are darkest. And, the worse the situation becomes, the more reliant we are on their faith and strength.

They live in a glass house. When we slip – in word or deed – we find ways to forgive ourselves. And generally, we find ways to forgive each other. Faith leaders are different. We have higher expectations for their conduct. We expect their behaviors to match their convictions – even if we don’t always follow suit.

For all that – to our Army Chaplains – of all faiths – Thank You.

(Note. Picture altered with ChatGPT to make it the right size and shape for Substack.)

It’s an impossible scene to describe. Seven American Army Veterans on a long-distance alpine trek - camped out at a remote mountain hut in Northern Italy. The hut, or refugio, is a modest but comfortable two-story stone and timber structure that accommodates 40 or 50 hikers. At 7,500 feet and a solid 3-hour hike from the closest road, it’s an incredible place to meet people from around the world…and to think…and to learn a few things. At this particular hut, on this particular night, this is what I learned…

• America is great. We have been for a long time.

• We are a massively influential, generally well intentioned, benevolent superpower.

• We inspire hope and optimism.

• And, we have a few choices to make.

We ate dinner together; refugio meals are served family style. After dinner most of the team headed into the dormitory style bunk room to prepare for the next day; I went outside to watch the sunset and to find a few minutes of solitude.

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This is where the story really begins.

There was another group of veterans at the hut – about a dozen middle-aged Italian men who had very clearly served in the Italian Alpine Corps. They were clearly expert climbers, fully kitted out with distinctive Alpine Corps hats and paraphernalia.

And they were not sober. I’m not sure what they were celebrating, but they were definitely having a great time. Drinks, guitars, singing. Lots of singing. More specifically…lots of John Denver.

They sang John Denver’s Country Roads, in English, in its entirety, at least six times. What they lacked in tenor and talent they made up for in volume and enthusiasm. There were a few Italian folk songs mixed into the repertoire, and they eventually closed the night with the Italian National Anthem, but John Denver was the crowd pleaser…echoing through the valley…. over and over and over again.

Sitting high on a ridgeline and far from home, I found myself completely consumed with reflections of our own country, our place in the world, and our Nation’s future. Our power, and influence, across the globe, remains indescribably high. This shouldn’t be surprising; we’ve paid for it.

Take Italy, for example. There were 119,279 American casualties, and 19,475 Americans killed, in campaign to liberate Italy, from their own fascist government, during the Second World War. It all happened in less than 24 months.

Understanding this particular chapter of history is complicated and a little bit confusing, it might be easiest to remember through the eyes of the Italians. For many Italians, the American sacrifice in Italy remains a decisive part in their story of liberation. Of course, remembering it like this sanitizes their complicity and allegiance to Hitler’s Axis Powers…but that only serves to reinforce the point.

They remember that the Americans fought and died to liberate them from their own fascist government…82 years ago. And, because that’s the way they remember history, our cultural and political influence remains hugely significant…significant like six iterations of John Denver, in English, in the middle of nowhere.

Interestingly and by contrast, there is an emerging American idea that we’d be better off, safer, if we turned inward and focused purely on issues within our own borders. This isn’t a new idea. America has seen isolationist periods before…most recently and notably between 1920 and 1937…right before the Second World War.

Watching these Italian guys sing and celebrate American culture and influence, it’s hard to understand why we’d let that influence recede, retract, and retreat. We’ve already paid for it. In this case, we paid for it with 120,000 American Soldiers. It seems like having that level of benevolent influence ultimately makes us stronger…safer.

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Less than three days after the impromptu John Denver tribute concert, I was making my way through Venice airport trying to get home. Home sweet home. The security signage was noteworthy. Directions to the U.S. bound flights…30 feet long, 4 feet high, with a bright yellow background, written in English with an American flag.

It definitely caught me off guard. Venice is an international airport. There are flights coming and going to every corner of the globe. But there was only one country with its own sign, its own security check point, and its set of departure gates.

If ever there was face of American exceptionalism, this would be it.

Why is it like this? Why do we get such special treatment? Well, it’s about power.

In this case…it’s about the economic soft power that’s generated through symbiotic tourism between the United States and Italy. The soft power of economic influence is obviously only one ingredient within the receipt of American global strength, but that doesn’t mean we should ignore it. After all, if we don’t leverage tools like economic soft power, all we’re left with is the hard power of military might, which has its limitations.

Our power and influence, purchased by our National sacrifice in both World Wars and now sustained through economic activity, can’t be overstated. And our power and influence are fragile. The future is promised to no one. If we’re not careful, we just might squander the investments we’ve paid so dearly for.

American power and influence fill a space. If we retract, it will create a void, a vacuum. One of our competitors will fill the void. What does that look like?

It’s interesting to think about. What would it look like if one of our global competitors were to replace the power we procure through soft cultural influence…

- What if the Italians Alpine guys weren’t singing Country Roads in English, but singing something by Группа крови in Russian? What would that even sound like? In my personal opinion, it wouldn’t sound nearly as good.

- What if the gate departure sign in Venice airport wasn’t written for us in English but written for the Chinese in their native tongue. (Photo modification courtesy of ChatGPT). Would that be better? Would that make us safer?

It’s a lot to think about, but definitely worth the time and energy. Like I said, we’re a great Nation, and we have been for a long time. We inspire hope and optimism around the world. We are hugely influential - more so than most Americans may realize. And - the type of future we will create for ourselves is a choice.

At the end of the day, I simply can’t believe that our Nation would be safer, more secure, and more prosperous if we were ceding our global power and influence to our competitors. And - I think we benefit from folks around the world enjoying a great John Denver song.

“Country roads, take me home
To the place I belong
West Virginia, mountain mama
Take me home, country roads” – John Denver

Young people say the most insightful things. And, if we’re listening, they have plenty to teach us.

This past week I was walking across the “Cadet Area” at West Point. We don’t really refer to it as a campus – because it’s not really a college. I spotted one of our senior Cadets scurrying across “the Area” – probably trying to avoid my tractor beam of engagement and inquiry.

“Hey there young man, what’s going on? Where are you coming from?”

“Good morning, Sir. I’m just coming from my first meeting with my new Tactical Officer.”

(Tactical Officers are a centerpiece in Cadet life. They serve as Commander, coach, mentor, instructor, disciplinarian (villain), and exemplar (hero). They are responsible for creating the unit culture in which our character and leadership curriculum occur).

“Sounds pretty good, how did it go?”

“Sir, it was great. It was my initial counseling for the semester. And, he asked my opinion on what makes a good tactical officer and a good leader.”

Fascinating. So, I also prompt the Cadet further, “Do tell. In your opinion, what makes a good leader.”

“Well Sir, I think presence is really important. My first Tactical Officer was never really around. He didn’t really make much impact. But, my second Tactical Officer was always available and it was way better.

And sir, I think it’s important that leaders explain “the why” whenever they are giving instructions. This last year, Major Price would always explain the purpose behind her decisions, and it really helped. It at least helped us understand the context of the decision.

And finally, sir, I think positivity is really important. Like, this last year we had LTC Rhodes as our Tactical Officer…and he was always positive…and I think that makes a huge difference.”

And poof – just like that – a seemingly random Cadet on a seemingly random Monday afternoon conceptualized the best, most understandable, most practical, and most executable leadership model I’ve heard to date. Frankly, it’s better than anything I’ve seen, read about, or taught.

Presence. Purpose. Positivity.

I told him…it’s an award-winning model; artful aggregation of our entire curriculum. And, because of alliteration’s linguistic stickiness, it’s more memorable than most of the overly complicated ideas that are floating around. I also told him, it’s book worthy. And if I ever found the time to write a book that explores it further, I’ll give him 50%...and I will.

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In some ways…it’s no surprise that a random West Point Cadet, in a random encounter in Central Area, could generate such an eloquent idea so quickly. For starters, our Cadets are exceptionally bright, clearly this one is no exception. And, at this point, he’s had three full semesters of academic leadership theory and six full semesters, and three summers, of experiential leadership practicum. It’s a lot. He’s fusing together the best (and worst) ideas (and examples) that he’s learned into a set of understandable (and executable) behaviors.

So – let’s unpack it a little bit.

Transformational Leadership is a combination of Presence, Purpose and Positivity. For leaders to have a transformational (or even a meaningful impact) to their organization, they must clearly and consistently demonstrate each of these three behaviors. Remove any one of them and the model falls part.

Presence. Presence is the coin of the realm when it comes to leadership; there is simply no more important attribute or behavior. Presence is about setting a personal example, understanding our team’s challenges, and investing into the next generation of organizational leader.

In 2007 I was a Ranger Strike Force Commander, leading counter-terrorist raids in Baghdad. I remember it distinctly It was early in the evening. The sun was setting. We were preparing our armored Stryker vehicles for the night’s work. The phone rang. “The Commander is coming out with you guys tonight; please make sure he’s on the manifest and has a seat on the truck.” It wasn’t an unusual call; in fact, it was completely normal for our Task Force Commander, General McChrystal to accompany us during the most dangerous missions. It was about sharing the risk, providing us a personal example of courage, and giving him a personal sense of the battlefield that simply wasn’t possible in the safety of his headquarters.

Within our Cadet’s perspective…there are no shortage of present leaders. He’s seen so many senior officers and General Officers at meals, sporting events, classes, award ceremonies, class functions, and extracurricular activities that he simply takes it as a matter of fact…leadership requires presence. There is no other way. Hell, this morning Arvin Gym at 0630 there were three Cadets…and one Command Sergeant Major and two General Officers (and one Colonel 😊).

Across our Army, even in 2026, it’s extremely commonplace for our most senior leaders to leave the office and step out into the mud with the Troopers. There is nothing performative about it. In combat, it’s common for General Officers to patrol…and in some units go on the occasional night raid. In Airborne units…the Commander always jumps first. The risks are real…and shared. The example isn’t exceptional because it’s unique – but rather because it’s a norm.

Leadership presence isn’t only about being physically present – though that’s a huge part of it. It’s about being cognitively and emotionally present as well. Be Present. Put the Phone Down. Make Eye Contact. Be Engaged. Care.

Present leaders earn trust. Absent leaders lose trust. It’s that simple.

Purpose. Good leaders provide purpose – “the why.” People and teams understand their purpose are more likely to demonstrate a deeper level of commitment to the organization – rather than blind obedience and compliance.

And, people and teams who understand (and feel) their purpose are more equipped to demonstrate empowered initiative. It’s easier to color slightly outside the lines (or when you don’t have lines) when you fully understand what the picture is supposed to look like.

Case in point. In 2018 I was a Ranger Task Force Commander – leading a series of highly sensitive and nuanced operations throughout Afghanistan. It was delicate work, with an unending series of decision-making dilemmas with life and death outcomes. Agonizing.

About once every ten days our senior Commander, General Scott Miller, would visit our headquarters. We’d give him the usual update brief and he’d always shower the young Rangers with accolades, awards and adoration. And, he’d always carve out an hour or two to describe to me, in clear and transparent language, through his broader strategic perspective. He was providing a clarity of purpose to enable our decision making and empower our initiative.

People, and teams, with a defined sense of purpose are also more likely to have a refined sense of inner strength, more likely to behave ethically, to persevere through challenges, and to remain resilient in the face of adversity. And – teams that feel a sense of collective purpose are far more likely to stick together when times get tough.

By personal observation, I’ve spoken with at least 300 corporate leaders in the last six months. I’ve had at least 100 “Gen X” executives describe to me that corporate employment is purely transactional…that it’s all about the money. And, I’ve had at least 100 millennials describe to me how important it is to them to find a sense of purpose and contribution in their work. The chasm between generational values appears acute. If you are a “Gen X” leader trying to motivate your “team of millennials” – maybe it’s not about the money. #purpose

Positivity. Emotions are contagious. In his book Primal Leadership, Goleman theorizes that great leadership begins with the ability to influence people’s emotional state. His core idea is that great leaders are able to harmonize the emotional state of their team – creating connections that generate trust, commitment, hope, and…what for it…shared purpose.

From my lens, there is unending evidence to support Goleman’s theory; 30 years’ worth. Just this past month I led a group of West Point Cadets on a long-distance trek across the Italian Dolomites. It was an extremely challenging itinerary, designed to stress the Cadets as both individuals and as a team. The trek was physically difficult, in high alpine terrain, in a place where they didn’t speak the language, and where their decisions carried real consequences of risk and reward. The group’s success was not preordained or manufactured, but rather the result of the Cadet’s decisions, leadership, team cohesion, and attitude.

They thrived. More specifically, they thrived as a function of attitude. Their de facto leader, Cadet Allison Harris, demonstrated an unending level of positivity and enthusiasm. It didn’t matter the weather, task, or terrain, she was sure that they would persevere – and led them to do so. If Goleman describes effective leaders are able to connect emotionally in a way that helps people perform their best, than I watched Cadet Harris demonstrate that in spades.

Effective leaders aren’t simply communicating information or instructions – they are able to communicate purpose through an emotionally positive lens. They create a resonance that leaves their teams with clarity, confident empowerment, and enduring commitment.

Conclusion

We finish where we started—with a Cadet.

After almost 30 years learning and practicing leadership theory, the best distillation I’ve heard came from a random encounter in Central Area on a Monday afternoon.

Presence – Purpose – Positivity

Be there. Explain why it matters. Inspire people to be their best.

Sometimes the best lessons aren’t found in the books. Sometimes they are scurrying across the Area trying to avoid the tractor beam of senior faculty engagement and inquiry.

I’m glad I stopped him. In many ways, it was a capstone lesson and memory from my time at West Point. And – if I write the book – 50 / 50.

I’m also skeptical of veterans who cast themselves as hero protagonists. Most of their stories aren’t completely true either.

For me, if I have anything worth sharing, it’s because I’ve been so exceptionally fortunate to serve in our Army’s best units, with our Army’s best Soldiers, and for our Army’s best leaders. The type of leaders, by the way, who are unlikely to write a self-promoting book.

One of the very best leaders I’ve served with was General Chris Donahue – known affectionately across the Army as “CD.”

As a young leader – nobody made a larger impact on me than Captain Chris Donahue. It was a long time ago, and every position I’ve held and every decision I’ve made has been benchmarked against his example as the Commander of Company A, 2^nd Ranger Battalion.

This is what I learned from one of our Army’s best leaders.

Humility. CPT Donahue assumed Command of our company in the midst of a small crisis – the previous Company Commander having been relieved for a series of integrity issues. While the First Sergeant and NCOs were doing well to keep the structure of the company together and to shield the Rangers from the leadership turbulence – there was actually a tremendous amount of mistrust among the officers and platoon sergeants.

A less capable leader might have amplified that mistrust. A less confident leader might have denigrated the previously relieved Commander to establish his own authority. CD did nothing like that. He actually never mentioned the circumstances of his assignment. He simply came to work – and held our first 0600 synchronization meeting.

As a lieutenant, I didn’t necessarily see or understand our Commander’s humility. I just wasn’t tuned in. It wasn’t until fifteen years or so later, working for him again, that I genuinely appreciated his humble example. As a Colonel, CD commanded one of our Army’s most special and elite units. By virtue of luck and timing, I served as the unit Executive Officer under his Command. It’s one of the best assignments I’ve had in 30 years of service.

Every night, at 6 p.m. (sometimes a little later), if he wasn’t deployed, Colonel Donahue would take out his office trash to the dumpster on his way home. We certainly had a great janitorial staff. And we certainly had great supporting facilities crew. But every night our Army’s most trusted and empowered Colonel would take out his own trash and clean up his own office. I’m not sure anybody else in the unit knew or noticed – things were normally pretty quiet when he’d leave. But I noticed. And it made a mark.

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Vision. I remember our time at Fort Lewis like yesterday. Captain Donahue had our crew of lieutenants in his office; he was issuing guidance to plan a live fire range at the Yakima Training Center. The idea he was describing exceeded our experience, capacity, and frankly, our understanding of what was possible. We pushed back a little, citing various concerns that seemed important to us and not to him.

He didn’t get frustrated – but I do remember him pausing the conversation and saying very clearly, “Where we are…is not where we are going.”

He wasn’t talking about the training exercise. Captain Donahue was describing, very clearly, his intention to transform the culture and climate of our company. He did; and it made an impact.

Care.

I was selected for Airborne Battalion Command while working as a staff officer for Colonel Donahue. I didn’t anticipate my selection and wasn’t really paying attention to the various promotion lists that were being released at the time.

Colonel Donahue called me down to his office to congratulate me. He informed me that I would be returning to Vicenza, Italy to Command the 2^nd Battalion, 503^rd Infantry (Airborne). In addition to being one of our Army’s most elite and storied Battalions, it’s also a unit that has deep and personal meaning and memory for me. It came as a surprise and blew me away.

At some point in the conversation CD looked down at my file and noticed that I didn’t yet have an advanced degree. He said something like, “Mike, this is great, but you won’t be competitive for promotion or senior Command without a master’s degree. You need to figure out how to get an advanced degree before your next promotion board. And, you need to figure out how to pay for it.”

So, I did. Turns out, the University of North Carolina’s Kenan Flagler School of Business offers a great Executive MBA. And, as it turned out, I could pay for it with my GI Bill benefits. The only problem was…time.

I was working 50 hour weeks and traveling two or three times a month. The MBA executive program required one or two nights a week and most weekends. There was just no way that I had the time pursue an advanced degree and meet my professional obligations.

I told Colonel Donahue that I didn’t think I could make it work.

Again, I remember it like yesterday.

“Michael, I am fully confident that if we invest in you now, you’ll repay the Army in time, energy, and service for years to come. No doubt. Go to school. I’m sure your work won’t suffer.”

That conversation was almost 15 years ago – and it changed my life.

We’ll end where we started.

After 30 years, I remain deeply skeptical of war stories and leaders who tell them.

In truth, the best leaders show up every day, set an example, invest in their people, and quietly make everyone around them better. Humility. Vision. Care.

For me, that was General Chris Donahue.

Upfront, nobody has ever called me a soft touch. I grew up playing “Army,” “Cops and Robbers” and “Cowboys and Indians.” I’ve been a Soldier for 30 years. This morning’s playlist was a combination of Johnny Cash and AC*DC. I love our Nation. I love the Army. I love Soldiers. I’m an Airborne Ranger. I deployed bunches of times. I’ve done all the things that Soldiers do, and if I could do it all again, I would do so in a heartbeat. I know my way around guns and love to shoot. Nothing about me says soft touch.

That said, there is strange contemporary phenomenon in which people who have never served are donning the uniform, posturing with assault weapons, and making grand proclamations about defending America and American Values.

It’s been described as tactical cosplay. I wasn’t completely familiar with the term, so I looked it up. Chat…what’s the definition of cosplay?

I’ve been watching this phenomenon unfold over the last several months. It makes me uncomfortable. I’m not sure why so many people are playing dress up in the uniform of my profession, but it’s their right to do so. Hell, I’ve served my entire adult life for their right to play dress up and say disagreeable things. In my mind, people can play dress up however they want.

Then, this past week, there was video skipped it away across the various social media feeds. It’s super bad. The video depicts two men, dressed as Soldiers, conducting the mock execution of an unarmed victim. In the background…young children are chanting Take Him Out, Blow Him Up. It appears as if the mock assassination takes place on an altar in a house of worship. Frankly, I couldn’t believe it was real, and there is obviously no shortage of misinformation on social media. I did a little digging.

Sure enough, shortly after the video’s release, the leader of the institution released a statement. In short, he described the skit as being part of the congregation’s youth programming. He described the skit as being a simple visual depiction of good versus evil. He described the “the clip you saw was simply killing the Devil.” He called it good fun, or words to that effect.

Let’s take that at face value. There really isn’t any need for additional judgement in the equation; the mock execution is enough. Let’s stick with the behavior and the explanation.

In many ways, the pastor is 100% right. There is a difference between good and evil. There are enduring values and principles that are inherently good…like loyalty, respect, integrity, kindness, and humility. And, there are enduring values and principles that are inherently bad…sins…like pride, greed, lust, and wrath.

We should definitely be teaching our children the difference between good and evil…the difference between values like respect (good) and wrath (evil). For me, this is an inarguable truth.

That said, the modality of instruction is completely inappropriate. Children shouldn’t be taught to chant and cheer during a mock execution. And, if the teaching modality is provocative enough that many adults don’t understand it, it’s reasonable to assume that many of the children won’t understand it. What are they actually learning? Take it from a guy who has seen and done some pretty violent things…the inhumanity of this is really gross.

Then there is this guy. I’m not sure who he is or how he made it into my Meta algorithm, but he’s always trolling my feed with his body armor and with some hyperbolic and mean-spirited message. He seems very angry, which is fine because we’re all entitled to our opinions…but I’m just not sure why he’s wearing body armor. I think he’s trying to signal that he’s in some sort of war, maybe a war of good versus evil. With whom? Me? Trust me, I’ve been in war, and he isn’t dressed for it, not really. He doesn’t even have it eye-pro on! (Little veteran humor 😊).

Then there is this one. This person posted a video of herself conducting the mock execution of a simulated criminal. Set aside for just a second the underpinning of our judicial system – a combination of ideas from Judeo-Christian teachings, British common law, and the enlightenment. And, set aside some very basic values like inherent human dignity, justice tempered with mercy, judicial equality, and the belief that leaders are subject to higher moral law. Give the image a good look. Is this a reflection of our best American Values?

It’s hard to get behind. And again, from a guy that’s seen plenty of violence, the visual image of a human being, tied to a chair, being assassinated, is repugnant.

I’m not really sure why tactical cosplay is so in vogue – the Army clothes and body armor and posturing with various assault weapons. I think it’s an attempt to project strength in uncertain times. Or, maybe it’s simply an appropriation of the credibility of a trusted profession.

And, I’m not really sure why violent role playing is so acceptable. My sense is that it’s fueled by a deep emotionality and by people who have never really seen human suffering, or experienced suffering themselves. They simply have no idea how awful war and killing actually is. Whatever the reason, it seems like something that we shouldn’t accept.

Here’s the real deal.

Our profession isn’t custom play. War isn’t a game. There is nothing funny about killing people. Our job is to Fight and Win our Nation’s Wars.

Our Values are rock solid…and they include things like Loyalty, Duty, Respect, Selfless Service, Honor, Integrity, and Personal Courage. And…our values are enshrined in various creeds and codes…mantras that guide our actions and behaviors. Things like…

· I am committed to the Values of Duty, Honor, Country…. dedicated to serve and earn the trust of the American people. – Excerpt from the West Point Cadet Creed

· I am an American Soldier. I am a Warrior and a Member of a Team. I serve the people of the United States and live the Army Values. – Excerpt from the Soldiers Creed

· Recognizing that I volunteered as a Ranger, fully knowing the hazards of my chosen profession, I will always endeavor to uphold the prestige, honor, and high esprit de corps of my Ranger Regiment. - Excerpt from the Ranger Creed

My point is this. There is a lot more to being a Soldier than just wearing the uniform. Ours is a values driven profession – grounded in character and professional competence. And, there is a lot more war fighting than performative violence. It’s not really about hate and rage, but rather loyalty, honor, and fraternal love; maybe we should be role playing and building skits around those things instead.

(Final Note. The cover picture. This is the pair of boots I wore in Afghanistan from 2005 – 2006. Notice the patches. That’s where I repaired them, by hand, when the side canvas wore out. That’s how much we patrolled. That’s how much we fought. Like I said, there is nothing fun about actual combat).

One of the things I love most about the Army is the people. In ways that are impossible to describe, the Army is a perfect reflection of our Nation’s total tapestry. There are so many different kinds of people, from so many different places and backgrounds, all working toward the same mission. In some ways, it’s really pretty utopian.

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Case in point. I grew up in Caldwell, New Jersey…a relatively affluent, conservative, and racially homogeneous commuter suburb in Northern New Jersey. Northern New Jersey isn’t really known as a hotbed for military recruiting. 99% of people that I’ve had the honor and privilege to serve with over the last 30 years…not from North Jersey.

Until recently, I had never really given much thought to diversity. It’s not that I’m not well informed or paying attention to contemporary topics. Rather, it’s just not a thing that I spend a lot of time ruminating on. In my experience, there isn’t really much to think about, we just build our teams…and do the job.

But…it seems like there is so much emotion, anger and misunderstanding about the role of diversity in team building…mostly by folks without a lot of practical experience…it might be worth exploring a little bit. After all, if we’re going to get better…we shouldn’t be afraid to have hard conversations.

Diversity

Let’s start by defining the term diversity. In today’s discourse, diverse classifications among humans have become synonymous with racial, ethic, and gender-based differences…we call these salient physical differences. But there are obviously lots of other and different ways in which people can be different from each other. Values, beliefs, traditions, background, familial upbringing, income level, educational background, religious affiliation, interests, professional experiences, age…the list differentiating human characteristics goes on and on.

We should frame the question. Afterall, if we don’t ask the right question, we’ll never figure out the right answer. For the purposes of this discussion, the question is something like, “What is the impact of a team’s diversity on its effectiveness and its ability to accomplish the mission.”

- Some will say that diverse teams are inherently more effective.

- Some will say that diverse teams are inherently less effective.

- Some will say that the composition of the team makes no difference at all.

None of those are entirely true, and none of those are entirely false. Let me explain.

Team Building

Broadly speaking, newly formed diverse teams generally outperform homogeneous teams when the task is cognitive (requires problem solving, innovation, adaptation, or decision making in an uncertain environment.) This makes perfect sense; an increased number of perspectives, backgrounds and experiences better equip newly formed teams to understand and solve novel and complex problems. So, if you are in a classroom, or workgroup, or planning team…diversity is a strength.

Equally true…newly formed homogenous teams generally outperform diverse teams when the task is easily understood, straightforward, and execution focused. This also makes perfect sense. In the absence of any additional experience or information, humans will default to perceptions of similarity…which are frequently based on physical differences that are easy to see. This is called the similarity-attraction paradigm. So, if you are doing a simple set of straight forward and easily understood tasks…like maybe a team obstacle course…homogeneity is a strength.

Here’s the thing though… all teams, especially in the Army, need to perform a myriad of tasks…both cognitive and tactile (hands on). There are no one-trick ponies. And, all teams (diverse and homogenous), are subject to the team formation dynamics that happen over a period of time.

Here is where things get interesting.

How Do Teams Actually Form?

There is a pretty well studied and commonly understood model that describes team formation called Tuckman’s Model of Group Development (Bruce Tuckman, 1965). Tuckman described that teams go through four distinct phases…

• Forming. New members are polite and seek direction.

• Storming. Differences emerge; team members test each other’s boundaries.

• Norming. Members establish hierarchy, credibility, and trust. Collaboration improves.

• Performing. The Team operates effectively towards a common purpose & goal.

Tuckman goes on to describe, with a credible body of research to back him up, teams generally outperform individuals. Graphically, Tuckman’s model, especially for homogenous teams, would look something like…

Tuckman’s Model might look a little different when applied to a diverse team…

• Diverse teams may experience the polite Forming Phase of group development differently because they have a lower sense of immediate familiarity.

• Diverse teams experience the Storming Phase of group development differently, because they may experience the friction of unfamiliar values, unfamiliar contexts, and unfamiliar personal boundaries.

• And…diverse teams will ultimately outperform their homogeneous counterparts once cohere during the Norming Phase and start to Perform to their potential.

To understand why diverse teams are likely to outperform homogenous teams in the long run, the variables of team cohesion – and to understand how team cohesion occurs during the Norming Phase.

But What About Cohesion…

There are two basic forms of team cohesion – Social Cohesion and Task Cohesion.

Social Cohesion is the degree to which members enjoy working together based on social commonalities. If you’ve missed the connection…think back to similarity attraction paradigm. Social Cohesion is good, but it’s also relatively weak. Remember that question about who you sat with at lunch on your first day at Middle School? Chances are you…you don’t remember. And, chances are, you didn’t sit there for very long.

Task Cohesion is the degree to which members are united by purpose; committed to accomplishing their shared mission and goal. Task cohesion is incredibly strong; for a Soldier…it’s everything. Task cohesion is why a Soldier from Kansas will give his life for a Soldier from Chicago…though they may have little in common…other than shared values and a shared commitment to the mission. When senior leaders say, “Our strength is our shared purpose,” that’s perfectly true.

Pulling It All Together.

Leadership. Referring back to the diagram of Tuckman’s model, there is a moment during the Norming Phase of group development in which team members gain a sense of shared purpose. More specifically, there is a moment during the Norming Phase in which leaders inspire a sense of shared purpose, members are transformed into a trusting and cohesive team. Cohesive teams live for each other…and will sacrifice for each other.

Values. When it comes to building cohesive teams….and creating a sense of shared commitment…alignment of values between team members becomes decisive. I’m not suggesting that everybody must agree with each other or have the same opinions; rather I am suggesting that the power emerges from shared values. For example, treating people with respect is an indicator of values alignment…not necessarily opinionated agreement. (Note…this is why so many great organizations are so very clear about their organizational and cultural values. It’s about alignment).

Standards. When it comes to building a team…all members absolutely must have the required professional credentials for the job. Everybody has to meet the standard. Every Army Ranger has to pass a 12-mile physical assessment; every lawyer has to pass their state bar exam; every Certified Public Accountant has to pass the CPA Exam. Standards are about professional and institutional trust; there are no two ways about it.

Conclusion. Clearly, this is a wildly complex topic; far more than most pundits would have you believe. So, to squeeze emotion and bias out of the discussion, I’ll attempt to present this out as logically as I can….

• Diverse Teams are generally better at cognitive tasks.

• Homogenous Teams are generally initially better at activity-based tasks.

• All Teams (Diverse and Homogenous) transform when leaders inspire shared purpose.

Therefore…

In the long run…when faced with a myriad of complex requirements…in an uncertain environment…diverse teams that are well lead, united by purpose, and grounded in standards will achieve the best results. Period.

In Closing...

We end at the beginning. One of the things I love most about the Army is the people. For 30 years I’ve served with young people from all-corners of our Nation…from the Ivy Leagues to the heartland, from Chicago to Columbus and everywhere in between. They are a National Treasure. None of them were from Caldwell, New Jersey. Very few of them are like me, but brothers and sisters, united by Leadership, Values and Purpose.

It seems strange that this could be a contentious thing to say, which is why it becomes so important to say in clear and unvarnished language. But I’ve recently heard a series of social media influencers, pundits, and podcasters insinuate that we would have been more successful in Afghanistan if we had been less discerning and disciplined. That’s categorically false.

I should probably start with…I’m not a soft touch. I’m a career Soldier with 30 years of operational experience. I’ve deployed nine times, to both Iraq and Afghanistan, in both Special Operations and Infantry units, in both Command and Staff positions. I’ve done the things that our Nation asks Soldiers to do. I’ve been wounded and decorated for valor. I love Soldiers, I love the Army, and if I could do it all over again – including the deployments and gun fights – I would in a heartbeat.

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I’ve seen plenty of violence – a lifetime’s worth. I’ve seen enough to know I don’t like it - and certainly enough to have an informed opinion about it.

So – for whatever credibility that my is experience is worth – let me set the record straight.

Unchecked violence is bad. Murder is wrong. The Law of Armed Conflict (LOAC) and Rules of Engagement (ROE) exist for a reason.

Our hands weren’t tied in Iraq or Afghanistan. Any suggestion otherwise is uninformed and revisionist – and threatens our ability to learn from history as it actually occurred. And, the truth is, there is plenty to learn from the history of the recent past – lest we repeat it.

In my singular experience, and the benefit of some reflection, there are a few points worth sharing and worth making perfectly clear…

• We always had the right to defend ourselves.

• We always had the opportunity to hunt and destroy the enemy.

• As a matter of practice and policy, we were always incredibly careful to avoid civilian casualties. Incredibly careful.

• Despite our best efforts, civilian casualties happened. And, when they happened, it was awful. In addition to the weight of guilt and remorse, there is an entire investigative process to figure out what happened and why it happened. We were incredibly keen to understand if it was result of the friction and fog of war – or the result of criminal misconduct.

Only once in my three decades of service have I been in a unit in which a Soldier intentionally killed noncombatants. It was murder, it was terrible, and it did nothing to further our cause.

In 2012 I was serving as a Brigade Operations Officer, in Zhari, Afghanistan. It was a miserably bloody, frustrating, and difficult deployment. About four months into the deployment, we had a junior officer, on his first patrol, order his Soldiers to fire at three unarmed civilians. In the confusion of the moment and without clear perspective, several young Soldiers followed his order.

I became aware of the incident when the local tribal elders showed up to the front gate of our Forward operating Base (FOB PASAB) with two dead bodies. It was the strangest thing. We were gun fighting the Taliban every day. We, and the Taliban, were incurring casualties every day. It was really bloody. But on this particular day it was as if the tribal elders recognized that we had done something wrong – outside of the rules of engagement and outside their local norms of fighting.

The incident was investigated. Nine Paratroopers testified against the officer. A Court Marshal panel of his peers, Army Officers…with combat experience, found him Guilty of Second-Degree Murder. The case would later become contentious and hotly debated – entirely by observers who weren’t in the unit and weren’t on the patrol. It’s so strange and surreal to think about.

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There is no shortage of international treaties, doctrine, or precedent that guides the way nations conduct war or the way in which soldiers fight. Pretty much all of the rules and laws that govern violence were written by warriors…in the aftermath of war…because it’s terrible. My purpose here isn’t to rehash the legal nuances of the Law of Armed Conflict – but rather to make an argument in its utility based on my experience.

All I can say is…never have I ever seen civilian casualties as furthering our campaign, justifying our cause, or getting us closer to victory. That’s just not the way it works. War, as Clausewitz described in the 1820s, is contest of will. And history is pretty clear; when armies target civilian populations…it galvanizes their resolve. It creates new grievances, fuels recruitment, hardens resistance, and undermines the legitimacy of the opposing force. It makes it harder to win.

When I was a little kid, I was taught to think of Americans as the Good Guys. I still believe that to be true. But our Good Guy status, while grounded in the aspirational and inalienable rights of Life, Liberty, and the Pursuit of Happiness, is more fragile than we think. As a Soldier and American Army Officer, I’ve learned that our Good Guy status is affirmed by the way we live…and fight.

The disciplined use of force is not a bureaucratic inconvenience, nor should it become a catchy talking point for some under-informed podcaster. The Rules of Engagement are not obstacles to victory – but rather preservatives of our Nation’s trust in the legitimacy of our Army. In short, our Army must be guided by the values that define our Nation. Period.

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Consensus-based decision-making is riskier than we think. Over the last 11 years I’ve been a part of four separate consensus-based decision-making groups and have sat through at least 150 meetings and work groups.

Groups make decisions and recommendations that are just as boneheaded as anything we can come up with as individuals; they are simply legitimized by the illusion of consensus and justified by the anonymity of individual responsibility.

Consensus without a decision framework is vulnerable to manipulation, bias, and social pressure. Let me explain…

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The Story

This past weekend I hiked Pikes Peak in Colorado Springs with two of my kids. It’s a 24-mile round trip hike with a 7600-foot climb to 14,115 feet. It’s a physically strenuous, non-technical hike. If you are fit, it’s very safe. The most dangerous part of this particular trek is the mountain weather – notoriously unpredictable well into the summer months.

Like clockwork, when we were about two miles (60 minutes) short of the summit, right at about 12,000 feet, we met an unexpectedly early thundering hailstorm. We were completely exposed on a rocky slope, at high elevation, in a storm. This is about as dangerous as the hike can get.

We sought shelter underneath a small overhang tucked within the rocks. The decision to seek shelter was pretty simple; formulaic.

• We were on a mountain in an unexpected lightning storm

• + Mountain lightning storms are unpredictably dangerous.

• = Seek Shelter

Within just a few minutes another trio of hikers came along. Two women and man, all in their mid-30s. They looked at my kids and me huddled under this rock – which must have been a sight.

“Do you think it’s safer to shelter under the rocks than to keep moving?”

It was an awkward and obvious question…we were literally crouching under the rocks hiding from the hail and lightning.

“I do.”

“We’re coming in.”

And just like that, the two women scurried into our tiny shelter, leaving their male companion standing in the hail…checking the weather on his phone. 100% true.

This is where things get really interesting. For the next 15 or 20 minutes, I watched and listened to this trio of hikers debate their next safest and best move.

They were a case study in dysfunctional consensus.

The two women seemed to be pretty experienced hikers. At least one of them had hiked 30 of the other 14,000-foot peaks in Colorado; they were both well-equipped with all the right gear. The guy, on the other hand, was neither well equipped nor experienced. His naivety was apparent.

After just a few minutes of standing in the raining hail he said, and I quote, “I don’t have any dry clothes and I’m starting to get cold, I think we should keep moving so that I don’t get hypothermia.”

The women seemed skeptical. It was apparent that this trio didn’t know each other very well.

The guy continued, “I don’t want to hike down, we’ve already come so far. I’m not sure where the top is, but we’ve got to be close.”

He asked me if I knew where we were and what the rest of the trail looked like.

“Sure,” I said, “we’re right here, in the middle of the open area, the trail traverses up across this talus field before climbing the exposed rocky spine.” He didn’t catch the hint of sarcasm.

Despite a clear understanding of our location and the exposure of our projected route, he continued, “My weather app says that it’s clear right now in Colorado Springs. It’s not supposed to storm until this afternoon.” This an actual quote; I’m thinking to myself Dude, you are literally standing in the rain.

After 15 minutes or so of dialogue, and with clear hesitation and reservation among the women, the trio continued their hike up the mountain…into the storm. It seemed crazy.

And, with some reflection, their decision offers some pretty significant lessons on the pitfalls of consensus-based decision-making.

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The Lessons (Where They Went Wrong) …

Minority Domination. Despite being the least informed, the least prepared, and the least experienced, the hiker guy was definitely the loudest and most influential voice of their group. The two women, despite their misgivings, eventually succumbed to his pressure. This phenomenon happens when a desire to keep peace suppresses our critical thinking skills. This is the primary building block to Groupthink – and it’s super bad.

The Red Herring. A Red Herring fallacy is when a person introduces an irrelevant point to their argument that distracts from the actual issue at hand. “I don’t have any dry clothes and I’m starting to get cold, I think we should keep moving (climbing and gaining elevation) so that I don’t get hypothermia.”

At best, the hiker guy’s lack of preparation and dry clothing was irrelevant. In practice, his lack of preparation was a demonstration of inexperience…and lack of judgment.

Sunk Cost Bias. “I don’t want to hike down; we’ve already come so far. I’m not sure where the top is, but we’ve got to be close.” OMG…this is literally the definition of Sunk Cost Bias! There isn’t really much more to write about it, it really is this obvious.

Confirmation Bias. We normally consider that Confirmation Bias is when we disproportionally weight evidence that supports our conclusion. But Confirmation Bias is also defined by minimizing (or ignoring) the evidence that contradicts our conclusion. “My weather app says that it’s clear right now in Colorado Springs. It’s not supposed to storm until this afternoon.” My man was using a cell phone weather app to ignore the highly localized thunderstorm that he was standing in.

Confidence Bias…the nail in the proverbial coffin. With my own concerns to consider (#mykids), I stayed pretty quiet throughout most of their conversation. After about 10 minutes one of the women said something like, “Well, I’ve hiked almost thirty 14’ers. I’ve never been caught in a storm, and I think we’ll be okay.” And that was it; the decision was made.

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So…How Can We Do Better…

To be clear, I have made some terrible decisions – both individually and as part of a larger group. Maybe it’s those experiences that cause me to think so much about decision making – and we can do better.

It’s About Decision Frameworks. In his book, Noise: A Flaw in Human Judgment, renowned psychologist Daniel Kahneman argues that simple decision rules outperform human decision making and intuition in most situations. Decision frameworks help us to prevent biased and emotional decisions. Further, simple decision rules are most useful when our biases are triggered by physiological variables – like fatigue, stress, and hunger.

In the case of this specific story – my own decision to remain sheltered was very much the product of an algorithm that I had constructed before the hike.

If this was the formula we used to hide in the rocks…

• We were on a mountain in an unexpected lightning storm

• + Mountain lightning storms are unpredictably dangerous.

• = Seek Shelter

Then our decision framework to leave our little rock shelter was….

• There was another forecasted storm at 1 pm.

• + We wanted to be at least 2000 feet below the summit in a storm.

• + We estimated that it would take us an hour to descend 2000 feet.

• + Therefore…we wanted to be on and off the summit by 1200.

• + We were 75 minutes from the summit at our current location.

• = We could depart our rock shelter any time before 1045

(If we departed for the summit after 1045, we would not have enough time to get to the summit and back down before the afternoon storm).

This simple formula – used to calculate our drop-dead time – minimized the emotional bias of our decision. The fact that we had flown across the country didn’t matter, the financial cost didn’t matter, the impending sense of failure didn’t matter. To us – the decision was formulaic. I told the kids, “If we get weathered out of this hike, we’ll just come back in August and do it again. No big deal.”

The Rest of the Story…

The storm broke at about 1035.

We scurried up to the summit as fast as we could. We were off the summit by 1145. By 1:30 pm, like clockwork, the next storm system had rolled in. We were already safely below the tree line.

By happenstance, we caught up to the other hiking trio. Thankfully, they had also had a safe and successful hike. It looked like the two women had ditched the inexperienced hiker dude.

I wonder…what lessons did they learn? Was the risk they took – reinforced by their fortunate success - reinforcement for a future bad decision. It’s interesting to think about, and a whole different essay.

100% Fact.

About six months ago we hosted Ranger legend and retired Command Sergeant Major Curt Donaldson at West Point. He came to speak to our senior Cadets who branched into the Infantry. Unending pearls of wisdom, I took copious notes.

One of Curt’s observations that I’ve been thinking a lot about…he said, “I’ve never seen a deadlift competition in combat. I have, however, been at maximum heart rate…in a gun fight…while taking casualties and making shit happen.”

Curt went on to describe and deride the gym centric, muscle-bound fitness culture that’s taken root in our Army over the last 25 years. For a professional Soldier, fitness fanatic, and organizational leader, it’s interesting to think about. It all started just after the war kicked off, and it was well-intentioned enough, but our collective pursuit of professional level tactical athleticism is leading us adrift.

We should probably start with a question, “Why do Soldiers do physical training (PT)?”

The answer is seemingly simple, “Soldiers do physical training (PT) to prepare for war.”

Done right, good physical training (PT) is a squad level activity. It’s done in a group of 7 – 9 Troopers, planned and led by their Squad Leader. There is a myriad of outcomes of desired training outcomes – and fitness is only one of them. More so, I’d argue that it’s not the primary outcome at all. Yep, let me say that again…physical fitness is not, nor should it be, the primary goal of Army physical training.

If the primary purpose of physical training is to prepare for war, then supporting outcomes would be, in order….

• - Building Cohesive Teams

• - Building Leaders

• - Building Physical Readiness to Accomplish the Mission (#dothejob)

First and most, physical training is about building cohesive teams. When small groups of people do physical activity together, day after day, week after week, month after month…it brings them closer together. They form a shared memory bank. They experience collective highs and lows. They learn each other’s strengths and weaknesses. Ideally, they learn to push each other, rely on each other, and bring out the best in each other. They create dopamine and serotonin in each other’s company and learn to associate those feel-good hormones with each other’s company.

Combat is a team sport. The 60 to 90 minutes a day that Soldiers spend together doing physical conditioning…it’s not really about the physical conditioning.

Second, physical training is Building Leaders. More specifically, good unit physical training is both a mechanism for leader development and a platform to reinforce their role as small unit leaders.

Leader Development. In an ideal state, physical training is a microcosm of the Unit Training Management (UTM) process. It’s the single event in which our junior leaders can practice, every day, across a range of modalities, the planning and execution of training. This is leader development. And, good news, it isn’t rocket science. The Army training management follows a relatively simple and universal model.

Because we measure physical fitness in such objectively concrete terms, it’s easy to visualize the application of the model at the small unit level. It might look something like…

It’s not hard to imagine. And the importance of the leader’s personal example during the execution phase can’t be overstated. The Army’s Leader Requirements Model indicates that Leaders must be Present – appropriated imbued with Bearing, Confidence, and Resilience.

Third, physical training is about accomplishing the mission. The strength and endurance gained through physical training must be transferable to war fighting. This is where things get really interesting.

Like CSM Donaldson said, I’ve never seen a deadlift competition breakout in combat. And, what’s equally true, I’ve never had to run a marathon in combat either.

Functionally, physical readiness for combat breaks down into three broad categories.

• · Be Able to Carry Your Stuff…over distance and for long periods of time.

• · Be Able to Fight.

• · Be Tough…Physically and Mentally

Army Physical Training is NOT about Elite or Tactical Athleticism

Maybe Civilian Coaches in our Combat Brigades isn’t all Good. To be clear, the Health and Holistic Fitness (H2F) program, embedding civilian coaches into our combat brigades, has most definitely resulted in positive performance outcomes. But there is also a downside that we never talk about. There is also a very real risk that it’s disempowering to our junior NCOs and atrophying the professionalism of our NCO Corps. There is simply less pressure on our junior leaders to plan and prepare physical training. And, there is certainly less pressure for them to lead it by example. Junior leaders are increasingly ceding the opportunity (and the responsibility) to lead their units through physical training.

Commanders…take a breath. When Company (and Battalion) level leaders focus purely on fitness testing outcomes, they put their unit on a trajectory for centralized physical training, micro-management, and officer centric small unit training. All bad. When it comes to physical training, the process outcomes are as important (more important) than the performance outcomes. Let the small unit leaders do their thing…even if it’s messy.

Social Media is Not Training Resource. Let me preface this with, I’m not an expert in anything, and I’m certainly not the most physically fit person in the universe. But I do feel comfortable in observing…some of the “fitness influencers” and “military fitness influencers” that are peddling their own personal for “warrior fitness” and “tactical athleticism” on Instagram…absurd. It’s been 30 years. We’ve seen all sorts of trends and fads come and go. Get a book, take a class, learn the fundamentals.

“Working Out” Isn’t “Training.”

I love my wife more than anything in the world. My wife works out every morning. Every morning, she wakes up and goes for a walk, or a light run, or rides the bike, or does some lightweight free-weight training. She’s incredibly and impressively disciplined. But she’s not training. Training happens when we set and focus on a goal. Training happens when we build a plan that is conceptually based on fundamentals such as specificity, overload, recovery, progression. They call it physical training for a reason; build a plan.

Conclusion

We’ll finish where we started. CSM Donald’s point wasn’t that strength or fitness don’t matter. They clearly do. And, if you know Donnie, you know that he’s one of the toughest Rangers there is.

His point was that our propensity to overtrain in the gym, or on the road, has limited transferability to combat. Combat is about small teams that trust each other. It’s about junior leaders inspiring by their personal example. It’s about the physical and mental toughness to keep fighting…no matter what.

Curt’s point was that good physical training builds all three…cohesive trust, great leaders, and physical toughness; because the enemy doesn’t really care about your one rep max.

For me – it was an unexpectedly emotional day.

I couldn’t help but to feel incredibly proud of our Cadets. They are such great young people. And, I couldn’t help but to share in their sense of accomplishment and growth. The United States Military Academy is a tough school. We build leaders of character for our Army. We graduate 18% of the Army’s new officers every year; it’s a mission we take very seriously. In practice, we require our Cadets to do things that are simply beyond the curricular requirements of other colleges and universities. The sense of accomplished relief across the graduating class is palpable.

And, I couldn’t help but to feel a sense of anxious worry – like a parent. The future is uncertain, and the likelihood of conflict in the next 20 years is high. We’ve done our best to give them the foundational tools; but will it be enough? When their moment comes, will they be ready? It’s a lot to think about.

The commencement speaker this year was the Secretary of War, the Honorable Pete Hegseth. For me, personally, one of the Secretary’s most impactful comments came late in the speech. It was a precise and well-placed comment that I’m not sure many people in the audience caught. Within the context of the day’s emotion, it’s worth unpacking.

The Secretary reflected, “This too shall pass.” He went on to make the point that all things in life, including the emotional high of graduating from West Point, are temporary. Indeed, ours is the Profession of Arms. Our job is to Win the Nation’s Wars. No matter what the future holds, there are challenging days ahead.

This too shall pass. Though the quote sounds liturgical, it isn’t. Depending on where you look and what you read, the original quote extends back to either a medieval Persian Proverb, این نیز بگذرد, or an ancient Hebrew folktale about King Solomon, גם זה יעבור. Probably both.

Success and joy, hardship and grief – nothing lasts forever. The simple phrase, “This too shall pass,” encourages humility while enjoying life’s highs, and a resiliency while suffering through life’s lows.

Despite its ancient traditions, it was American Presidential Candidate Abraham Lincoln who ushered the phrase into our modern lexicon. The year was 1859, Lincoln was making a speech before the Wisconsin State Agricultural Society, we were on the verge of a Civil War. Lincoln said,

“It is said an Eastern monarch once charged his wise men to invent him a sentence, to be ever in view, and which should be true and appropriate in all times and situations. They presented him the words: ‘And this, too, shall pass away.’

How much it expresses! How chastening in the hour of pride! How consoling in the depths of affliction! ‘And this, too, shall pass away.’”

Context matters. Lincoln’s speech was an argument against the “mud-sill” theory of class segregation. (As an aside, the “mud-sill” theory holds that some people are simply better suited for manual labor; it was a theory constructed that promoted rigid classism and was used to justify slavery). When Lincoln said “this, too, shall pass away,” he was arguing against the permanence of class structure – and slavery. Human conditions change. Nations change. People change. The history is fascinating.

Today, “this too shall pass” reminds us that all experiences — good and bad — are temporary. If you are having a great day, like graduation, enjoy it. It’s going to end. If you are having a bad day, don’t let it get you down…tomorrow is a new day.

In many ways, this is a perfect message for our new graduates. Their future, while unknown, will certainly be challenging. For some, the challenge may be as simple as the hunger and sleep deprivation in Ranger School. For others, the challenge may include unexpected, unexpectedly long, and iterative deployments.

The message is also pretty perfect for the nearly 3,000 Cadets who observed Saturday’s graduation. They sat in the bleachers at Michie Stadium, 50 degrees, pouring rain. This too shall pass. They are working their way through a relentless curriculum that blends academics and physical requirements in an environment of strict military discipline. This too shall pass.

Last Saturday’s commencement has me thinking quite a bit about the book Perseverance > Endurance. Written by former Ranger Brandon Young and former Green Beret Blayne Smith, the authors artfully use their military experience as a platform to talk about leading (and growing) through challenge and uncertainty. They write, “Nothing lasts forever. Moments of acute hardship will come, and they will go.”

They go on to describe the daily struggle that lies within each Ranger Student. When the sun is up, Ranger School is tolerable. But most of the learning in Ranger School happens at night, long after sunset. Night after night of simulated small unit attacks, raids, and ambushes. It’s stressful, grueling and just plain miserable. And, the nights are most uncomfortable just before dawn. Darkest, coldest, wettest. Just before dawn, that’s when people quit.

The authors go on to write, “You never quit Ranger School at night. You wait for the light of a new day…” Things will look different in the morning. And, no matter what, the sun will rise. And, when the sun comes up, things will be better.

Maybe that’s the point.

No matter how good you think things are – be patient – they are going to change.

And, no matter how bad you think things are – be patient – they are going to change.

This too shall pass.

The West Point Class of 2026 has graduated. Social media is abuzz with their family’s love and adoration. We are so proud of them. And hopeful. If one thing is for certain it’s this – the future will be different than the present. Tomorrow will be different than today. We can’t even begin to imagine the challenges. We’re going to need great leaders.

Young leaders ask me all the time, “How do I show my team I care? And how do I get them to like me?”

It’s an impossibly difficult question to answer. It’s based on a false premise.

Here’s the Deal…

Great leadership is an act of Love. It’s about giving people what they need, not what they want.

And, it has absolutely nothing to do with being “Liked.”

Most married people will know what I’m talking about. And, anybody who has raised teenagers will definitely know what I’m talking about.

Let’s Talk About the History of Love.

The ancient Greek word for love is agape (ἀγάπη).

Agape is defined as a selfless, sacrificial, and unconditional state of devotion. Significantly, agape is the word first used for love throughout the original New Testament, originally written in ancient Greek.

Let’s break that down one more time.

Love isn’t necessarily about emotion or attraction. Yes, that’s part of it, but it’s not even close to the whole story.

Love, agape, is a selfless, sacrificial, and unconditional state of devotion.

Great leadership is an act of love.

Leadership’s Love Language.

In 1992, Gary Chapman, a marriage counselor and pastor, built out the first behavioral framework for communicating love. His work has become a mainstay of counseling, coaching, and corporate leadership consulting. He described five basic human behaviors…

• Words of Affirmation

• Acts of Service

• Receiving Gifts

• Quality Time

• Physical Touch

Chapman’s work is good…and, incomplete. Because Chapman’s research was based almost exclusively on married couples, it omitted different types of relationship in which love manifests.

In 2022 a psychometric testing organization, Truity, continued Chapman’s work with a research study of 500,000 volunteers. The result was an expanded and more practically applicable set of love communicating behaviors. They are...

• Activity Based Bonding.

• Appreciation Rituals.

• Emotional Support.

• Financial Support.

• Intellectual Stimulation.

• Practical (everyday) living experiences.

• Physical Intimacy.

Within the context of organizational leadership, and especially military leadership, three of these behaviors are worthy of dissection and understanding.

Activity Based Bonding. People who experience things together, and who overcome adversity together, link the positive emotions of the experience (and perseverance) with the people who are present during it.

Arguably, the most effective activity-based bonding is extracurricular – outside of work. Lunch dates, the golf course, formal and informal social functions, or a beer after work. The collective identity (cohesion) formed when the commitment of time is extracurricular is like gorilla glue. #strongstuff It’s a leader’s responsibility to create those opportunities.

Appreciation Rituals. This isn’t rocket science; it’s about the routine and predictable recognition of a job well done. The best place I’ve seen this done is in the 82d Airborne Division. Once a month, normally on the last Friday of the month, we would have an event called “Pay Day Activities.” Everybody would put on their fancy Class A formal uniform, we would conduct a series of formal inspections, and then the Commander present and recognize the awards that people had earned in the preceding 30 days. It was a pain in the neck, and I hated wearing my dress uniform. But there was absolutely no question…people knew and understand that their service and contribution was valued. Every month, like clockwork.

Emotional Support. Let’s be clear, emotional support isn’t about soft or a push-over. It’s not about making things easier or removing hardship. It’s about providing feedback, tools, and training so that our teams can overcome whatever challenge is before them.

Maybe it’s something like this…

When my oldest son was 17, he was working his way through the college application process. He brought home a 1250 on the SATs. It’s a great score…but not good enough for the elite school to which he aspired.

“Here’s the deal. You tried your best and it wasn’t good enough. If you want to change your aspiration, 1250 will be fine. If not, you’ll have to study harder and try again. I’ll study with you, I’ll relearn Algebra 2 with you, I’m happy to relearn all the SAT grammar words with you, I’ll put in as much time as it takes, and I know it sucks, but that’s the way it is.” (It was a journey – but he got the score he needed 😊).

A Great Example.

In 2005 CSM Brian (BJ) Rathbun was a young Staff Sergeant in B Co, 2/503 IN (ABN). He was my company Mortar Section Sergeant. BJ was awesome.

I remember reenlisting SSG Rathbun in Zabul Province, Afghanistan. It was our second deployment. He had been wounded in his first deployment to Iraq. I remember how incredibly humbled I was by his sense of selfless devotion.

SSG Rathbun was tough. At that time most (not all) of our gun fights were long range duals between ridgelines. We fought mostly with machineguns and mortars. BJ’s team was really good – they crushed the enemy. He taught, trained, and retrained his mortar crew to a razors edge. And, if somebody was messed up, he was unapologetic in honest feedback – he’d chew their ass until they weren’t messed up anymore.

SSG Rathbun loved his mortarmen. BJ and his wife Marika were like the adopted parents of his mostly single, young Paratroopers. Trips to the airport, weekend dinners, unit socials, and just about any level of practical or emotional support that he could offer – he would.

While we were deployed, BJ carried a Thuraya satellite phone everywhere. It was the first of its kind that I had ever seen. He would buy the phone cards when we were on patrol in the market – with his own money. Satellite phone cards in Afghanistan in 2005…not cheap. Late at night, when all was quiet under the Afghan stars, and after his Troopers were done on guard duty, BJ would fire up the satellite phone and help them call home. The next day might be more gun fights and ass chewings…but everybody got to call home.

This past week CSM Rathbun retired after 30 years. At his retirement ceremony I found a more recent picture of his service. It’s the perfect explanation point for his leader’s love. It’s a picture of BJ, as an Operations Sergeant Major, participating in a squad competition. He’s a pretty senior non-commissioned officer…leading by example. From the looks of it…he’s carrying a young Paratrooper’s ruck sack…and still outrunning him. Leadership.

The truth is, I have no idea if BJ’s team of mortarmen liked him. They probably did, but it’s also irrelevant. I am, however, 100% sure that his team loved him. And, more significantly, that they knew he loved them.

So…How Do I Show My Team I Care?

If there is a love language to organizational leadership, it might be something this this…

Step 1. Care.

First and most – if you want to show your team that you care – you have to actually care. This is about authenticity. You can’t fake the funk; people can see and feel a disingenuous leader from a mile away. If you are most concerned about your next promotion or short-term returns…there is absolutely no way to hide it.

Step 2. Be Present. Do Things Together.

The importance of leader’s presence simply can’t be overstated. And, the impact of doing things together can’t be overstated. Team activities provide common purpose, build collective memories and shared identities, and trigger feel good hormones like dopamine and oxytocin.

Let’s say that differently – absent leaders aren’t actually leading anything. They aren’t building teams, they aren’t providing purpose, and they aren’t inspiring anybody.

Step 3. Be Completely Honest in Feedback.

Everybody loves positive feedback. And nobody enjoys giving or receiving corrective feedback. But truly committed and caring leaders put emotions aside; they find the time and place for an in-person and eyeball to eyeball conversation. It’s not easy.

Conclusion…

Great leadership has nothing to do with being liked. Great leadership is a result of selflessness and sacrificial devotion. It’s manifested when your team can feel that you care, and that you’re committed to their growth, welfare, and success. And, it all starts with just showing up.

When it comes to high stakes leadership, there are two decisive personal attributes that differentiate success from failure – Character and Intellect – in that order.

Combat is a thinking game; I just can’t say enough or loud enough how important critical thinking and problem solving are when the risks are really high.

Let me explain.

From 2017 to 2019 I commanded our Army’s elite 3^rd Ranger Battalion. The 3^rd Ranger Battalion is perfectly designed and equipped for one purpose - to hunt and destroy terrorists.

By way of a very simple model - we’d deploy to Afghanistan, we’d look for terrorists, find them, and then destroy them.

Imagine a local villager walks up to the Forward Operating Base and claims that he can identify a regional Taliban leader. For a price, he’s willing to provide the location of the insurgent’s house and a physical description. (This was remarkably common). The villager describes the insurgent’s mud hut, describes that he wears a white coat and black hat, describes that he drives a yellow car, and even describes in exquisite detail that he uses a small commercial radio to talk to his neighbor insurgent buddies.

Let the hunt begin.

The first thing we do is scour Google Earth (or a similar program) to find the described house. And sure enough, we find a structure matching the description.

Then, we deploy a Scout Team to go watch the house – very similar to a stake out. We just watch…sometimes for a few days…sometimes for longer. Unblinking.

Indeed, there is military age male that lives in the house. He wears a white robe and black hat. He drives a yellow car. We sometimes see him fire up a little handheld radio to talk to his insurgent buddies.

So, we up our game. We jump on Amazon Prime, order a low-grade handheld radio, and in about 10 minutes find this guy’s favorite frequency. We started listening to him. (No, we wouldn’t order radios on Amazon Prime, but you get the idea).

Though we never hear him say any “insurgent stuff” directly – he would use a lot of ambiguous language. He’ll say things like, “We put the things in the garden.” “The visitors will be here tomorrow.” “Tell the guy across the river to do the thing we talked about.” It all sounds non-sensical, but our hired linguist describes that the nuance of the conversation is definitely suspicious.

At first glance – it all adds up. It looks like we’ve found an insurgent. We start building a plan to kill or capture him. That’s the job.

Here is where things get interesting.

Before conducting a strike operation on our identified insurgent, there is a process to ensure that we’re acting in accordance with the Law of Armed Conflict and the Rules of Engagement. We would take this process very seriously – with a tremendous amount of personal and professional care and diligence.

(It’s worth noting – there is absolutely no good that comes from violating the Law of Armed Conflict or the Rules of Engagement; those things exist for a reason, and we take them very seriously. I simply can’t overstate the precision and care that we’d use to avoid civilian casualties.)

In this scenario – the key question is whether or not we have met a required evidentiary threshold to take a human life.

Read that again…have we met an evidentiary threshold to take a human life?

It’s a lot to think about, and this is where critical thinking becomes so decisively important.

Start with…how do we define the level of objective certainty that’s required to strike?

Clearly, we’d want to be very certain. For the sake of argument, let’s say we’d want to be 90% certain that the person that we’re watching is an insurgent.

Okay…90% of what? 90% of our own personal opinion?

Perhaps there is some formulaic approach that might be helpful. There is some combination of the intelligence (evidence) that we’ve collected that might add up to a 90% degree of certainty. Afterall, the house, the person, the manner of dress, the car, and the radio are all exactly as the local villager described. That’s all pretty good – those things complimenting intelligence indictors.

Let’s pull the thread on those intelligence indicators a little bit.

Our Scout Team identified a person that perfectly matches a description given to us by a local villager. That’s it. We didn’t see anything that looked like insurgent activity, but rather only confirmed the physical description that was given to us by a random villager who walked up to our front gate.

It’s worth asking a few questions…

Who was the villager that gave us the tip? What tribe is he in? What are his equities?

What did we pay him?

Is it normal for people to use hand-held radios? (Yes.)

Who was the linguist that described the radio chatter as insurgent activity?

What have we seen that is truly differentiating? For example, almost every male in Afghanistan wears a white robe and black hat. And, almost everybody drives the same old crappy white car…that’s covered in yellow dust. And, almost everybody carries a little radio to talk to their neighbors. The truth is…the villager gave us a perfectly clear description of every male in Afghanistan. We probably would have seen the same evidence regardless of what mud compound we looked at. And, oh by the way, all the houses look the same too.

Things are murky. We use decision-making processes and systems that give the illusion of objective certainty – but the world is actually quite gray. And, we haven’t even talked about the impact of biases yet. The two that come to mind as most relevant in this scenario are Confirmation Bias and Optimist Bias.

Confirmation Bias is when we trust information that supports our existing opinions or desired outcomes. For example, “I am a Ranger, my job is to find bad guys, here is a mountain of information that describes a bad guy, therefore it must be true.”

Optimist Bias is when we overestimate our own knowledge and ability, and we overestimate our ability to generate positive results. For example, “I’ve deployed nine times, I understand the environment, I’ve seen a lot of combat, I have made a lot of good decisions, therefore I have trust in my ability to make this decision as well.”

I’ve worked through this scenario more than I care to remember; it’s stressful and intellectually taxing – to say the least.

When it comes to critical thinking in high stakes situations, there are enduring and broadly applicable lessons.

Question Your Assumptions. It’s worth asking…what assumptions must be true for my conclusion to be true? Where does the evidence come from for those assumptions? What are the risks if I’m wrong? Is there some amount of information that I can gather to turn my assumptions into facts?

Evaluate the Evidence. Where is your information coming from – and what are the incentives & equities of the person (or organization) providing you the information.

Consider Alternative Explanations. This is the most challenging, because it forces us to consider with equal weight ideas that may contradict our desired or preference outcome.

The best teams that I’ve been a part of have designated Red Teams. A Red Team is a purpose-built Devil’s Advocate – a group whose sole purpose is to provide contrarian, original, and unaligned feedback to decision maker to help them think critically and to be less susceptible to biased (and emotional) decision making.

Consider Your Biases. There is a bit of a dilemma in human decision making. The more decisions we make, the better and more confident we become. We develop decision making shortcuts and heuristics...which result in systemic biases. It’s definitely worth knowing the different types of bias – with some deliberate reflection on how they effect our decision making. Thinking Fast and Slow by Daniel Kahneman is a great first reference to understand bias in decision making.

Critical Thinking is a uniquely human endeavor. Let’s be 100% clear – Artificial Intelligence isn’t intelligent. Large Language Artificial Intelligence Models (LLM) detect patterns in written language that’s contained across the internet. It uses those patterns to predict what words or ideas might come next. It’s not creating new ideas…but rather repackaging ideas that somebody else has already had. Certainly, LLM is a useful tool with an impact that can’t overstated, but it remains limited in judgement, creativity, and critical thought.

Critical Thinking Isn’t about Education…though it certainly helps. A few years ago, one of the most educated people I know called me “anti-intellectual” in an unnecessary personal attack during a professional dialog. My crime? Questioning his assumptions. That’s called an ad hominem attack, which is a logical fallacy (and probably a different essay).

And finally…

When it comes to high stakes leadership…character and integrity reign supreme.

Our character is like a wellspring for critical thinking and decision making, it’s the foundation upon which everything else is laid. Every technique and practice that I’ve described is subject to erosion under the stress and strain of true high stakes scenarios.

Imagine the ambiguity of the combat scenario I described; there is no way to reach a perfectly known conclusion. Even with the best critical thinking framework and organizational Red Team – it’s still ambiguous. 50/50 on the decision to take a human life.

The only way to get it right is if you are leading with a perfectly clean heart and clear intent; inspired and guided by virtues like honesty, justice, and temperance.

When it comes to critical thinking…character reigns supreme.

Editor’s Note. I always use ChatGPT to check spelling and grammar. Sometimes I use its suggestions, sometimes I don’t. ChatGPT isn’t actually a great writer, and it doesn’t have my ideas. Today, for the first time, ChatGPT gave me some editorial feedback.

It wrote, “Your AI paragraph is a bit overstated. It reads more like a rhetorical flourish than a precise claim.”

Hilarious.

Our Cadets ask such great questions. Despite an endless supply of books and theories on how leaders can influence culture, there is surprisingly little written from a practitioner’s point of view.

What can leaders actually do to drive cultural change?

Well…

Cultural change isn’t about formal authority or policy. Cultural change happens when leaders consistently influence a small percentage of informal leaders – people who are trusted, socially connected, and behavior shaping in their organizations.

Real cultural change isn’t about broadcasting to the masses, but rather targeted communication to informal networks that have outsized voice and impact.

Let me explain a few ideas, tie them into a thesis, and then funnel that through applied experience.

The First Idea. The most well-known and studied theory of organizational change is Kotter’s 8-Step Model. Developed in the 1990s by Harvard Professor John Kotter, the 8-Step Model provides a progressive and iterative approach to leading cultural change. The summary is something like…

• Build a Guiding Coalition

• Form a Strategic Vision

• Enlist a Volunteer Army

• Remove Barriers

• Generate Easy Wins

• Increase the Pace

• Institute Change

It’s a great list. And a quick Google search will reveal endless number of beautiful graphical representations. The problem of course…Kotter never really describes how to actually do any of these things.

Let’s look at the first step, “Build A Guiding Coalition.” Who? How? How many?

Keep reading…it’s all going to come together.

The Second Idea. In his 2000 book The Tipping Point, Malcom Gladwell describes how ideas can reach a critical mass and spread through an organization like an epidemic. If you haven’t read it, it’s a great, easy, and thought-provoking read. Within his framework, Gladwell describes two different types of people that are critical for spreading ideas.

He describes:

• Mavens are people who have a natural intuition to accumulate and share knowledge. They are our trusted “go-to” trend setters in our herd.

• Connectors are people with large and diverse social networks; they bring people together and they spread ideas across different social groups.

Whereas Kotter leaves an open question on who should be in our guiding coalition, Gladwell fills in the blank.

As we seek to create cultural change, we should align seek the trend setters (informal power brokers) who have widespread social networks to be in our guiding coalition.

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The Third Idea. This is where things start to get really interesting.

There is an idea within the marketing profession called the Law of Diffusion of Innovation. It was formalized by Everette Rodgers in 1962. It goes like this.

About 2.5% of us are truly inventive and innovative humans…creating new things. These people are called Innovators.

About 13.5% of us are opinion leaders…willing to embrace change…willing to stand inline for the newest iPhone or buy an electric vehicle before anybody else in the neighborhood. These people are called Early Adopters.

Then there is the rest of us – and the rest of us don’t do anything unless that first 15% has done it first.

For example. Last year my wife and I bought a Toyota RAV4 Prime with a sweet hybrid engine. It’s my favorite car ever. But I wouldn’t have purchased that car five years ago, and I wouldn’t have purchased that car if my neighbor hadn’t had one first. I needed to feel like it was a good purchase; I looked for clues in the early market.

Here’s the thing. The Law of Diffusion of Innovation is validated, time tested, and super stable. For products to sell, or ideas to spread, they need to reach a critical mass of about 16% in a given population. And, if that happens, there is no stopping them from tipping into the mainstream population.

As we seek to create cultural change, we need to least 16% of our team, preferably the trend setters (informal power brokers) who have widespread social networks, to be in our guiding coalition.

Application.

16%. That gives us a number - something we can target and measure.

Let’s look at it like this. An Army Brigade Combat Team has 4,000 Soldiers.

16% is 640 Soldiers.

If a new Commander can influence 640 Soldiers who are trend setters, informal power brokers, and have widespread social networks, then those 640 Soldiers will be the catalyst of desired cultural change. 640. That’s not a billion, it’s only 640.

640 means that each individual Soldier is immeasurably deserving of the Commander’s time. It means that every conversation, every session of physical training, every visit to the dining facility, every visit to the motor pool, and every barracks inspection takes on greater meaning.

• Go for a run with a Squad. That’s 8.

• Go to breakfast and sit with another squad. That’s another 8.

• Walk down to the motor pool and check out what the mechanics are working on, that’s another 8.

• 24 personal conversations – and it’s not even 10 a.m.

With deliberate effort – a good leader can talk to 640 people in a month – easy.

Now, in all fairness, cultural change isn’t quite as simple as I’ve laid out.

Most people aren’t ready for whatever cultural change you’re selling. Most people aren’t social connectors. Most people aren’t natural trend setters. And most people certainly don’t fit into all of those categories simultaneously.

Dosing and iteration become important.

Assuming there are 260 workdays in a year, an active leader…who leaves the office for just an hour or two, can talk to every Trooper in the Brigade at least once, and some of them twice.

Given enough time and persistent iteration of positive and present leadership – the Commander will find the right 640 Troopers to spark cultural change. And, when he finds that right 16%, they’ll tip the rest of the organization.

And…

To be clear, cultural change isn’t a function of the formal leadership structure. The leaders with formal power and authority may not necessarily be the mavens or connectors. And the leaders with formal power and authority won’t necessarily be interested in change – they might even be resistors (that’s a different essay).

Rather, to create cultural change the Commander (the boss) has to communicate deep into the ranks, to the individual Troopers...the individual contributors.

I think back to my own time in Brigade Command to a young Soldier named “Specialist Miami.” I don’t remember how to spell his last name – he was from eastern Europe – but he was known ubiquitously across the Brigade as “Miami.” Even I knew him – within a unit of 4,000 Soldiers – as “Miami.” He was trend setter, he knew everybody, and he was definitely ready to shake things up. In his own way, “Specialist Miami” had more power than me or any of the other Commanders.

All organizations have people like “Specialist Miami” …you just have to find them…and spend time with them…and let them help create the future. One at a time.

Here’s the Rest of the Story…

A lot of people ask me, “Mike, why did you go to West Point after Brigade Command?” Though great, it’s not a traditional assignment, and it has zero upward mobility for Colonels.

It’s about the future.

We graduate 1,100 new officers a year. That’s 18% of our Army’s new officers – every year.

If the model holds up…

We only need to influence and inspire 704 Cadets to be the incredible leaders of character that our Army and Nation need.

If we get the right 704, they’ll “tip” the other 4,400. Culture spreads, inspiration spreads, character, and leadership spread. Heck, even if we just get 90% (1,000 per class), that’s still 16.6% of the Army’s annual officer intake. That’ll do it, that’ll “tip” our future.

It’s true. I truly the culture of a 450,000-person organization (#army) by finding and investing in the right 704 young people – one at a time – even if you don’t know exactly who they are.

With that – time to go walk - and find some culture to change.

I’m also fairly certain I worked for one of the most toxic leaders of our time. Maybe not the most toxic—but certainly in the top 20.

Even now, when I talk to peers and we compare assignment histories, I’ll occasionally see a look of recognition. A pause. It’s like they know… but aren’t quite sure what to say.

And, in many ways, I hesitate to write about this particular chapter of my journey. Life moves on. We grow up, we forgive. And I wouldn’t want to cause anyone unnecessary distress or regret.

But we also have an obligation - to remember things as they were (or at least as we experienced them), so others can learn and, hopefully, do better.

So, let’s define some terms.

Toxic leadership isn’t about high standards, demanding expectations, or even the occasional ass-chewing. Those things aren’t toxic; at least not necessarily.

Toxicity is emotional.

If your presence causes subordinates to feel a surge of cortisol when you walk into the room - you’re probably toxic. Quickened heart rate. Tight chest. Fight-or-flight.

That’s not opinion. That’s physiology.

As I really think about it, I think there were really three things that came together to create a perfect storm of organizational toxicity.

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He Wasn’t Honest

More specifically, he avoided honest and difficult conversations at all costs. No, he never yelled, never raised his voice, and never said anything that was overtly negative. He was always positive. A cheer leader.

And he was chronically dissatisfied.

We lived in this strange space - receiving praise we didn’t believe, from a boss we knew wasn’t happy.

We never knew where we stood – good or bad – and the ambiguity of feedback became horrendously stressful.

An ass-chewing would have been better.

The Drinking

My man was the most charismatic, out-going, extroverted, life of the party person I’ve ever known. Super fun to be around at any off-duty function. And he was a boozehound. In retrospect, he was a functioning alcoholic – and we all knew it.

At the time I didn’t necessarily notice or care. I enjoyed being around “the fun boss.” But, as I’ve matured and developed and led at the organizational level – I’ve come to understand that none of this was good, or necessarily, or functional.

The boss shouldn’t ‘pre-game’ before social events.

He was Always the Star

This is the hardest one to process.

Our unit had an incredibly number of highly talented leaders. Exceptional. And, as I look back on it, it’s clear to me that our boss was personally, emotionally, or professionally threatened by his subordinates. There is no other explanation.

He constructed our workload so that we could never succeed. I never felt like I had done a good enough job for him, especially not with the unending hollow positivity.

Just to calibrate the conversation a little bit – I’ve worked for demanding leaders for 29 years. There was an entire decade in which I worked from 4 a.m. to 7 p.m. – six days a week. No problem, we were in a war, and I’d happily do that again. Happily.

I share that to say…I’m not describing him as a demanding boss. I’m describing him as a person would deliberately sabotage the projects and initiatives that he had assigned – without cause or explanation. It was as crazy as it sounds. Coupled with his disingenuous positive feedback, it sometimes felt diabolical.

Here’s the thing. And here’s what makes this all a little uncomfortable.

The Reality

People are complex. And, despite his shortcomings, I loved him anyway.

- He Cared…deeply.

- He Worked Harder Than Anybody Else. Relentless.

- He was a visionary; he could see and imagine a future that nobody else could. Sometimes we thought he was nuts, but that’s part of being a visionary.

- He Led by Example…and shared every risk of combat with his Soldiers.

- He was incredibly Loyal…especially to his team.

And…

- He was completely unaware; I’m not sure I can really hold a grudge because he had absolutely no idea that he was actively undermining himself or us. And, nobody ever talked to him about it.

So…how do we package this into something useful.

The Lessons

Toxic leadership is about emotion. It has nothing to do with standards, expectations, or even the occasional ass chewing. It’s far more nuanced; tucked into the tone and tenor of our daily dialog and discourse.

People Hate Ambiguity. The greatest gift we can give to a subordinate is clear, honest, and unemotional feedback. People can feel when they are falling short, just tell them how to improve. Easy.

The Boss Should Never Be the Public Drunkard. Never. There is absolutely no universe in which inappropriate conduct on Friday doesn’t impact our credibility on Monday.

Leadership is Hard. Leaders carry a burden that most of us will never understand or appreciate. This one certainly did. We should be careful not to judge too harshly.

In Closing

The truth is – human beings are complex. This particular leader was impeccably honest, honorable, and righteous. And, he was a well-intentioned wrecking ball.

Maybe that’s the real lesson. Maybe we’ve all got a few things to work on. Despite whatever we think our strengths are, we all most certainly have some blind spots and liabilities that others can see.

Maybe the real strength is in being able to create an environment in which you can receive and grow from that feedback. Easier said than done – for all of us.

When the stakes are high, it’s communication, early and often, that’s the secret ingredient to shared understanding, trust, and ultimately empowerment. Let me explain.

In 2018, I was in Command of a deployed Ranger Battalion Task Force. Though my headquarters, along with most of our energy and effort, was in Afghanistan, we had small groups of Rangers deployed across the Middle East.

We were an organization of very young leaders making high-impact (life and death) decisions across vast distances and within an incredibly decentralized organization. We were fueled by trust and empowerment.

Our best and most effective platoon was deployed to a small outpost in northeastern Iraq. They were working in support of another special operations unit. We had hand-selected them for this delicate assignment based on the young platoon leader’s judgment and maturity. They were far from the Task Force headquarters and far from our Army’s regional supporting infrastructure. They were on their own. Trust and empowerment.

As our deployment came to an end, it became clear to us that it would be a bit of a puzzle to get this platoon back to Fort Benning, Georgia. Nothing beyond our capability, but lots of time-consuming and detailed travel coordination.

We requested a pair of conventional Army CH-47s to fly the platoon from their small outpost to the airfield in Kirkuk. There, they would have a brief layover and then transfer to a C-17 for the long flight back to Columbus - by way of a Ramstein refueling stop, of course. The plan was fine, but it was reliant on good weather and precision execution.

By happenstance, my Command Sergeant Major, Brett Johnson, was visiting the platoon during their redeployment window. This was a normal thing for him to do. Whereas I was tethered to our headquarters in Bagram, Brett had the latitude to travel to each of our outposts across the region. He was checking on the Rangers, acting as my eyes and ears, and just doing his thing as a persistent, positive, and present leader.

Brett called me pretty late one night. “Sir, we have a problem with 1st Platoon.”

“Okay. What’s up?”

“There is a storm rolling across Iraq that’s keeping all the helicopters grounded. They don’t have rotary lift (a helicopter ride) from their outpost to the airfield at Kirkuk; they are going to miss their transfer. They’ll probably be delayed by 96 hours in getting back home.”

“Okay, so? What’s the problem?” Things like this happen all the time; it’s barely noteworthy.

Brett went on to describe the rest of the story.

Our most trusted platoon leader had devised an alternate travel plan to make that transfer in Kirkuk. He was going to put his young Rangers in civilian clothes, rent a caravan of high-end SUVs (yep—even in Iraq), and then drive six hours across the Iraqi desert without reliable communications, medical support, or close air support.

It takes zero military experience to know this plan was problematic. This was a terrible idea. And yes, our military certainly has special mission units that have the training and equipment to operate like this…but we weren’t one of those units.

Command Sergeant Major Johnson knew exactly what I was going to say, which is why he called me.

“Hard no. Absolutely not. Tell them to wait for the weather to clear. I don’t care if they are a few days late getting home—tell them to get over it. If the platoon leader needs to hear it from me, I’m happy to lay it out.”

Fast forward 10 days.

The Battalion had returned safely to Fort Benning and was preparing to go on our much-anticipated post-deployment leave. We were all ready for a break.

The platoon leader came to see me. It was a memorable conversation. He was incredulous. “Sir, why didn’t you trust me? You had empowered me to get the job done, and that’s what I was doing. I was the leader on the ground, I had the best sense of the environment, and it was my risk to take.”

Okay, junior.

My response was curt; the conversation was over. And there is an awful lot to learn here - mostly about trust, empowerment, and risk.

From the platoon leader’s perspective—he was entitled to my absolute trust and to the empowerment to make every decision for his Rangers. For him, it was a binary conversation. I either trusted him, or I didn’t.

From my perspective - trust and empowerment are impacted by risk, and risk is dynamic.

In this particular example, the young officer didn’t have the perspective of having seen catastrophic IEDs in previous deployments. He wasn’t sensitive to the fact that the impending weather would also limit our medical response capabilities. And I’m not sure he understood the incredibly complex tapestry of relationships in the region; like…who do you think was bankrolling the local luxury SUV rental guy in northeastern Iraq?

His plan was at a higher level of risk than I would assume - and certainly a higher level than I would allow or empower a junior officer to assume on my behalf.

Empowerment isn’t “anything goes.” Empowerment is bounded and governed by the parameters of risk that our boss is willing (or able) to give us.

I think about it like this.

Empowerment is like a bowling alley. The lane is bounded by gutters. The gutters are our acceptable risk parameters. At the far end of the lane are the pins that we’re trying to knock down -our desired end state.

While there is certainly a best way to bowl the ball down the lane to strike the pins, there are also a thousand acceptable variations. Frankly, it doesn’t matter how you bowl that ball as long as you don’t hit the gutters. But there is no universe in which you can gutter-hop the bowling ball across lanes to knock down your pins. It’s just not how it works.

It’s a simple analogy. But our analogous bowling alley is whacky. The width of the lanes is inconsistent and always changing. Risk is fluid.

So, what’s the lesson? How do we empower our teams to perform at the point of impact in high-risk environments?

It’s about communication—early and often. In the ideal organization, leaders and subordinates communicate so clearly and frequently that they can anticipate each other’s moves and motives.

In the absence of top-down guidance, the subordinate will demonstrate appropriate initiative. And in the absence of oversight, the leader is confident in the decisions that are happening below.

There are no surprises.

The truth is - my failure with that young platoon leader didn’t happen at the tail end of a long deployment. The seeds were planted months before.

I hadn’t spent much time with him. I hadn’t counseled him properly or created the time and space for us to form any sort of genuine relationship. I didn’t know him very well, and vice versa. He was ignorant of how I viewed risk and ignorant of my priorities. He didn’t feel comfortable asking for guidance and clarity when he needed it most. In truth, he didn’t completely trust me.

I was his leader, and that was my fault.

It’s all about communication, early and often.

Communication → Shared Understanding → Empowerment (Repeat)

Of course…for the discerning reader…there is one more small point to make. Command Sergeant Major Johnson wasn’t visiting this particular platoon by accident or happenstance. It was actually perfectly calculated. He had identified a point of organizational and physical risk—a point that had developed into one of my blind spots.

He anticipated the friction - and moved to fix it. That’s what great noncommissioned officers do; but that’s a different essay.

This past week my high school senior and I spent three days on the Appalachian Trail in southern Virginia’s Grayson Highlands; 45 miles of uninterrupted screen free dad time.

Early on the second day we stopped at a trail shelter along the incredibly scenic Wilburn Ridge. The trail shelters are typically three-sided log cabin type structures that offer hikers and backpackers shelter from bad weather. You can normally a little notebook in which visitors “sign in” and write short notes of their experience, encouragement, or whatever. As Sammy finished filling his water bottles from the spring, I read a few of the recent entries.

The best was a recent note from a hiker named Austin.

“Life is so good out here. I love this place and these mountains. God Bless you all and may you experience love, joy, and abundance.”

Looking across Virginia’s Blue Ridge Mountains – I understood exactly what he was saying.

I thought about this scrawled out comment for the next three days. Then I had an idea.

Doctors should prescribe this.

Let me explain.

Americans have never been unhealthier. Despite the miracles of modern medicine, comforts of contemporary living, and the potential joy to be gained through ubiquitous digital connectivity - we are suffering – in Body, Mind, and Spirit.

Body.

• American obesity rates have doubled in the last 50 years, with more than 40% of American’s meeting the clinical definition of obesity. The percentage of young people and children who are severely obese is growing even fast.

• Obesity is tied to cardiovascular disease, high blood pressure, and diabetes. Despite the new-age body image arguments that would suggest otherwise, obesity is bad.

Mind. Here’s a neat trick. Go to ChatGPT and type in “tell me about mental health issues and suicide rates among among American young people in the last 10 years.” It’s not good; the American mental health crises is real.

• 18% adolescents have had a major depressive episode in the last year. That’s not a temper tantrum, or an argument with their parents, or an adolescent outburst…but a major depressive episode. That’s about 1 in 5.

• 40% of high school students report that they are chronically hopeless,

• Suicide rates among young people rose 60% from 2007 to 2021 – to an all-time high in 2022.

Spirit. Renowned clinical psychologist Dr. Lisa Miller describes spirituality as the human capacity to experience a connection with something larger than oneself. It’s our sensation of purpose, connection, and contribution. Spirituality is not necessarily synonymous with religiosity; related…but not synonymous.

• Young Americans, for a variety of reasons, are less likely to engage in formal faith-based activities that have provided spiritual frameworks and experiences for earlier generations. That’s fine. But along with those formal activities and organizations we’ve also lost the spiritual frameworks. That’s bad.

• 67% of young people report that they feel lonely and 61% report that loneliness affects their daily life. That’s the opposite of feeling connected to something bigger than yourself.

• 50% of young people say they are “thriving” in life...which is great. And, 50% of young people feel stuck, uncertain, and disengaged. 50% is an “F.”

To be fair, these are exceedingly complex topics. There are mountains of books written about each of them. And my point isn’t to pessimistically poo-poo modern life. To the contrary, I’m an eternal optimist. But, the trendlines are concerning, and we have to understand the problem, or at least admit we have one, before the solution makes sense.

Americans have never been unhealthier.

Here’s my solution…

Walking is the absolute best remedy for the things that ail most of us.

Now, I know, I just triggered a bunch of fitness zealots into constructing their counterarguments. I’m a fitness zealot too. I understand. Let me define two key words to clarify my thesis.

• Walking. We should be outside - with a little weight and a little pep in our step. And, if we can find somebody to go along with us, great. If there’s a spot with a view to stop for lunch…perfect.

• Best Remedy. Accessible and practical, with the potential to make meaningful improvements to our physical, mental, and spiritual health with minimal risk of injury or reinjury.

Doctors should prescribe walking (as defined above).

Here’s why…

Body

Walking with a little weight at a brisk pace builds aerobic fitness. There is no better single protective factor against obesity, heart disease, and diabetes than aerobic fitness.

I recommend reading Outlive by Dr. Peter Attia, Chapter 13. In it, Dr. Attia builds a strong case for long duration / low intensity (#zone2) aerobic activity to mediate our metabolic health and glucose homeostasis. This is exactly how we fight the ailments of our modernity.

Another great reference is Training for the New Alpinism by Steve House and Scott Johnston. Whereas Outlive is written for average Americans who are coming to terms with middle age, Training for the New Alpinism is written for elite, competitive, alpine climbers. Though the audiences are different, the message is exactly the same – building a foundation of aerobic fitness is the first and most important step in improving our physical health (and performance). And it’s accessible to most people on most days; it’s a matter of choice.

As a young officer I spent a lot of time trying to figure out the perfect way to be functionally fit. I was unnecessarily binary in my thinking. “Should I run or lift? Should I be strong or fast?” I’ve changed my perspective and framing completely. Maybe walking…with a little weight…over uneven terrain…at a brisk and athletic pace…builds the perfect amount of functional muscle mass where you need it most. Maybe.

Mind

Imagine this. A small band of early human hunters sees a herd of Wildebeest the horizon. They approach the herd – and the Wildebeest run. The hunters continue to approach…all day – and into the night. Eventually an old, sick, and weakened Wildebeest no longer has the endurance to run away. Dinner.

Humans are endurance hunters; we’re constructed to walk our dinner to into the dirt…literally. Everything about us, from the way we ambulate, the way we sense, see, and hear; the way we moderate our body temperature, everything, is designed (evolved) for the long, slow hunt.

Our evolution into endurance hunters has been physiologically incentivized, over millions of years, by feel good hormones. When we conduct low intensity aerobic exercise we improvement our mental well-being through a cascading release of feel-good hormones. Endorphins, dopamine, serotonin, oxytocin, and norepinephrine all increase as a by-product of low intensity aerobic activity. And, significantly, low intensity aerobic exercise also lowers our baseline stress hormone, cortisol.

Walking literally makes us feel better; it causes us to generate more good hormones and to generate fewer stress hormones.

I should reiterate…when we walk, we should be outside, with a little weight, and a little pep in our step. Being outside is a critical ingredient to the definition. Here’s why.

Sunlight helps our bodies produce Vitamin D – and Vitamin D is awesome. Look it up; ask Chat. Vitamin D helps us regulate our moods; it reduces irritability, improves cognitive clarity, and improves stress sensitivity. Concerningly, almost 40% of us are deficient in Vitamin D. (I can’t help but to wonder if it’s the same 40% that are morbidly obese.)

As a Brigade Command I learned that our mental health providers were prescribing young Paratroopers with Vitamin D supplementation. Our chief mental health provider explained the benefits of supplementation to me – in detail. So, I asked him, “Could we prescribe less pills if we simply made people spend more time outside…in the fresh air and sunlight?” He didn’t have a great answer; I think it’s worth considering.

There’s one more aspect as we consider the benefits of walking outside with weight on our mental well-being…toughness training.

William B. Irvine, in his 2019 book The Stoic Challenge, argues that we can enhance our own mental and physical resiliency through deliberate practice and training. He describes a model of stoicism in which we can build our coping skills by seeking unexpected setbacks and challenges. He specifically describes the pursuit of outdoor adventure as a modality to experience routine setback and hardship (it was rainy, the bridge was out, it was too hot, it was too cold, etc. etc.) Sometimes the journey is more important than the destination. Stoicism.

Spirit

This is where things get a little weird; weirder than Irvine’s toughness training, but bear with me.

The early Celtic Christians believed in thin places. A thin place is where the boundary between our physical world and the spiritual (divine) world feels especially thin.

Thin places are places that are so beautiful, so awe inspiring, and so majestic that they inspire a sense of clarity and peace, where we can see and sense heaven on earth. The edge of the Grand Canyon might be a thin place, the spot at Little Round Top where Joshua Chamberlain’s 20^th Maine held off the Confederate advance might be a thin place, or a quiet cathedral in mid-town might be a thin place. It’s about awe and majesty.

Similarly, in An Anxious Generation, author Jonathan Haight theorizes that humans should seek vastness – places that are so spatially expansive they cause us to feel small relative to the world around us. It seems like a strange theory – until you really consider the implications.

• If we feel small, it means that there must be something bigger. That’s spirituality.

• If we feel small, it means that our problems must also be small. That’s perspective. #resilience

When we walk…it should be outside, with a little weight, at a brisk place, and should include a great view. If we’re lucky that view will be a thin place with a feeling of vastness...a mountain peak, ridgeline or valley. But it might also be a park bench with a few of the local fountain, river, or whatever.

There is one last component to building spiritual health from outdoor pursuits…connection and togetherness.

When we walk…if we can find someone to go along with us...great.

Shared physical activity, especially walking (or running), results in a shared neurochemistry called synchrony. In layman’s terms, the synchronization of your physical movements over time and distance cause you to bond with your partner or teammates. As we start to generate the previously described feel good hormones (dopamine and oxytocin), the brain subtly links those feels to the people who are present. We are connected. That’s spiritual health.

No…I’m not talking about “Rucking.”

There is no shortage of small fitness companies these days that are “selling” rucking. It’s a little perplexing to me – I would never have believed that anybody could “sell ruck marching” – or that anybody would buy it – but it’s a thing. I wish I had thought of it – lol.

It’s encouraging that all the players in this space seem well intentioned and benevolently motivated. Most are veterans – and it seems like they’ve all already had the same epiphany that I had last week. My theory, by selling high-end handmade backpacks and wearable integrated fitness and trail finding apps, these companies are actually creating the incredible value of health, wellness, community and accountability. That makes sense to me.

So, I’ll close were I started.

Americans have never been unhealthier.

Walking outside, with a little weight, at a brisk pace, with someone we enjoy, to a spot with great view is the absolute best remedy for the things that ail us.

The first time I heard this question was in July, 2015. I had just taken Command of 2/503 IN (Airborne). I was working my way through the initial counseling for our junior officers.

Every lieutenant that I spoke to asked this same question – or a version of the same question.

- “How do I get to be the best lieutenant?”

- “How do I get to be the #1 lieutenant?”

- “What can I do to earn the best junior officer evaluation?”

As I think back over the past 11 years – this single question remains the most common thing that junior officers ask. It’s also the most absurd. Incredibly absurd.

Here’s why.

“How do I get to be the best lieutenant” is a self-intentioned and self-centered perspective. The underpinnings of the question are juxtaposed to the value of selflessness and teamwork. It’s a distinctly different question than “what can I do to make our team better?”

It’s 2026; everybody knows that tight-knit teams will always outperform and outproduce even the most talented individual contributors. It’s not even close. If there was a moment in time when only the most learned scholars understood the power of cohesive teamwork – that moment has passed. Everybody…from second grade teachers to Scout leaders to team coaches are beating a very steady drum…work together, be a good teammate.

We all know it. But, that said, the urge in young (or insecure) leaders to differentiate themselves is extraordinarily powerful.

I watched this phenomenon play out in my first few weeks of Battalion Command. It was an incredibly unique time. I assumed Command of the Battalion in western Ukraine; we were conducting a training and assistance mission with the Ukrainian National Guard before their deployment to the eastern front. We were on a small base just outside the city of Lviv.

The Battalion had a short notice mission that required a surge of staff capacity. We assembled a team of junior officers from across the Battalion to augment our staff. I directed them “to do the analysis, develop a plan, and make a recommendation for next year’s training program.”

Two days later I entered a modest conference room we shared with the Ukrainians for a series of staff briefings. I hoped to emerge with a developed plan that we could submit to our senior leadership for approval.

One of our senior platoon leaders, a lieutenant from Chosen Company, started the briefing. It was good. He had artfully organized a mass of chaotic information. He had identified opportunities and risks that we had not considered, and he communicated clearly and articulately.

It was the next thing that caught me off guard.

As the first young officer finished his briefing and answered our questions, a second lieutenant approached the podium to pitch his version of the same analysis. And then a third. And then a fourth.

I had assumed that our ad hoc team of young officers would collaborate to make a single recommendation. Instead, they had all independently assumed that I wanted them to compete with each other to generate the best product. They didn’t even share the same Power Point Slide Master with each other. Everybody’s format was different. It was sort of comical – and completely disappointing.

So much wasted time.

In truth, they probably could have circled up around a white board, collaborated their way through the assignment, and generated a better overall set of recommendations, in less time. Hell, they could have at least shared the slide format with each other.

But no; this cohort was so conditioned to compete with each other that it didn’t occur to them that the behavior might be distasteful to their new senior rater. With each of their individual quests to singularly differentiate themselves as the best, these young officers actually only succeeded in differentiating themselves as self-interested and self-absorbed – more interested in their individual report cards than our mission.

In many ways, we shouldn’t be surprised. These particular young officers were exceptionally high achievers - all hand-selected for service in an elite and distinguished unit. More specifically, they were hand-selected based on a history individual merit and performance.

Individual performance opens the door to adulthood - be it school, employment or unit of assignment. But…once the door to opportunity is open…team play reigns supreme. Or, maybe I should say, team play reigns supreme in high performing organizations.

The question of “how can I become the best lieutenant” is absurd, but it does have an answer. And, the answer is paradoxical.

The first step in differentiating yourself as the best at anything …stop worrying about it. Just commit yourself to the team and mission. Stop worrying about yourself; just work hard, do your best, be a good teammate, the rest will take care of itself.

Our best leaders, best subordinates, and best contributors are also great teammates. Real team players. Not only good team players when times are easy and resources are plentiful, but more so when times are hard and resources are scarce.

It’s been 11 years since I counseled that young lieutenant on our little base camp in western Ukraine. I’m convinced that I’ve got more experience in coaching, teaching, mentoring, and evaluating company grade officers than anybody in our Army. There are lots of experiences that I don’t have and lots of things that I haven’t done; but when it comes to leading lieutenants and captains - I can go toe-to-toe with anybody out there.

The question continues.

About two weeks ago one of our West Point Cadets came to my office to ask for professional advice before his rapidly approaching graduation. These conversations are pretty common – and remain a professional highlight for me. He couldn’t help himself, “Sir, how can I become the best officer in my Battalion.”

“Stop worrying about. Just do your best and be a good teammate. Be humble and over-deliver. It’ll all work out.”

I hope he listens.

About three weeks ago I put my little toe into the civilian job market; I had my first real job interview. The first question seemed like a softball.

“I think it was this morning. I went to the gym. I was able to spend about an hour with my team in an informal setting. We had a shared experience. We talked about personal things. We talked about professional things. I refined some guidance that I had given in yesterday’s staff update. I was present and engaged and in their space. I led by example. Afterwards, a few of us went to get a cup of coffee before starting the day.”

The interviewers asked again, slightly differently.

“No, let me rephrase, when was the last time you actually showed leadership.”

Ah, same word; different language. I didn’t answer his question, because the word leadership means very different things to us. I’ve been thinking about it.

Here’s what I’ve learned.

And, let me say up front, these aren’t new ideas and they certainly aren’t my ideas.

Leadership isn’t one big moment or event.

• Leadership is an aggregation of our character, presence, and intellect.

• Leadership manifests itself in the way we build trust and communicate with others.

• Leadership is about the team environment that we create and the emotions that we project and broadcast through our organization.

• Leadership manifests itself in results that we achieve.

Leadership isn’t a Hail Mary pass, a transformational keynote speech, or a single decision of investment and risk.

Leadership is the combination of every little thing: the alignment of our actions and values (competencies and attributes).

If we’re doing it right, we’re demonstrating leadership all the time, every day. A few examples come to mind – not because they are big – but because they are small.

Jump First. I’ve spent most of my service in Airborne units. We would jump every few weeks. In every airborne operation, in every unit, for more than 20 years, the highest-ranking person would jump first. It might be a First Sergeant, or a Platoon Leader, or a three-star General. Why? Well, it’s simple. Military airborne operations are dangerous. The senior person jumps first as a real and visible way to share risk and inspire their subordinates. If he can do it, I can too.

Walk the Motor Pool. My last unit had 796 trucks and jeeps. Most of our trucks were older than most of our Paratroopers…it was like a fleet of classic cars that required daily love and attention. Every Monday, and throughout the week, I’d walk down to the motor pool to check things out. Listen to the music that Troopers are playing, listen to their conversations, learn to fix a ‘CV Boot on the U-Joint of a HMMWV,’ just be there. I’d learn so much – not only about the maintenance of our trucks – but more about our people and organizational culture. Sometimes the best way to display leadership is just walking around. #presence

Send a Card. One of the very best leaders I’ve served with was General (Retired) Rich Clarke. Once upon a time, in 2007, I was a young Company Commander and GEN (R) Clarke was our Ranger Regimental Commander. My wife and I had just had our 3^rd son, Sam, at Fort Stewart, Georgia. The war was in full swing; I was strongly considering leaving the Army for a greater sense of stability. Sam was about a week old; a card arrived. The card was a note of congratulations from then Colonel Clarke, it was postmarked from Ramstein, Germany.

Let me explain. In 2007, the Ranger Regiment was continually rotationally deployed to both Iraq and Afghanistan. The Regimental Commander spent the vast majority of his time in Iraq. He would travel between Iraq and Fort Benning, Georgia about once every six weeks, normally on a military flight through Germany.

For the Regimental Commander to send my wife and I a handwritten card, it meant that he had deplaned during a refueling stop in Germany, hustled from the terminal to a mini mall about a half mile away, purchased the card, written it out, gotten it in the mail, and hustled back before refueling was complete. He had a free hour, maybe two, and used it to send us a congratulatory baby note. Caring.

Leadership. I withdrew my resignation paperwork and served for another 20 years.

Like I said, leadership isn’t a big thing that we do once a quarter or at the end of a fiscal year. It’s all of the little things we do to build trust with our team and to inspire people to do their best.

And, like I said, leadership has to manifest itself in results. Nobody cares about our inspiring leadership stories if we’re not generating results - points on the board or dollars in the bank.

• General Clarke’s character and care resulted in a higher retention rate for his mid-grade officers; most of us are still serving.

• Our presence in the motor pool resulted in a higher dispatch rate for our vehicles.

• The personal example of a leader who jumps first inspires Paratroopers to do their best and to perform at elite levels.

For sure these small, seemingly inconsequential examples of leadership have parallels that would likely have resonated with my interviewer.

• The manufacturing manager that walks the floor will have a lower defect rate.

• The utilities manager who spends time on the road will have better incident response time.

• The manager who cares enough to send a card or show some personal care will have a higher retention rate – and lower personnel turnover costs.

• All of them will ultimately generate higher revenue (or lower costs).

In retrospect, I think what the interviewer meant was, “when was the last time you led a strategic initiative or led an organizational change?” Those are both great questions, but they are different. Those questions are about specific and discrete events – with concreate and measurable short-term results. Good questions, but not really about leadership. Leadership is about people and the culture; leadership is about the long game.

Needless to say, and probably just as well, the interviewer didn’t call back.

It was my first day in 2nd Ranger Battalion.

I remember it like yesterday. I remember feeling like a baby giraffe—wobbly and awkward.

Jeff Tiegs, our Company Executive Officer, was showing me the ropes. “Mike, I’d go outside and find a squad and go for a run with them. Be back by 0745. Then either find me or head over with the squad to the chow hall. We eat at 0800.”

I did exactly as Jeff instructed. At 0630, I walked outside, introduced myself to my platoon for the first time, and joined Frank Jimenez’s 2nd Squad for a run. Frank smoked me; his Rangers were exceedingly fast runners. We were back by 0730, and by 0800 we had cooled down and stretched out. We walked over to breakfast together.

There was nothing remarkable about the Ranger Dining Facility. The dining room was small, with long tables and two buffet lines. There were, however, a few things that stood out immediately.

• First, the Battalion Commander and Command Sergeant Major were seated at the first table on the right, immediately next to the door as we walked in. They were with a small group of leaders from Battalion Headquarters.

• Second, the food looked pretty good. They were cooking eggs to order. They had guacamole, cottage cheese, and fresh fruit next to the buffet line.

• Third, after we had gotten our trays of breakfast, we sat together. SSG Jimenez was specific about it. “Sir, we sit at these center tables.”

It wasn’t my first day in the Army, but it was definitely my first great day in the Army.

In my previous unit, and until that moment, I hadn’t eaten with anybody. In fact—and it’s really sort of sad to say—I had eaten most of my meals at work by myself, in my car, in the Burger King parking lot.

It was terrible.

At this point, we all know - shared meals are the superglue that binds us together. There is no single activity more important to establishing a relationship or building a team than eating together.

The examples are endless, from dating rituals to the way teams prepare for athletic competition; from Scout and summer camp experiences to pretty much every established faith and religious tradition. Eating brings people together.

It likely started around a campfire with a cave family at some point in the distant past. The cave family ate together, and the cave family survived together.

Within the military, there are a billion traditions and ceremonies that revolve around communal eating.

• When a new commander arrives, his first act is often to host a reception—and feed the new team.

• When leaders and Soldiers arrive or depart a unit, we celebrate their service at a monthly dinner.

• When we honor our unit heritages and histories, we do it at an annual formal ball.

• On Thanksgiving, across the Army, before leaders eat with their own families, they go to the unit dining facilities and serve the younger Soldiers. This is such a big deal that my kids used to join me in the serving line—and they loved it. Dad would dress up in a clearly uncomfortable uniform and hammer out mashed potatoes for an afternoon.

It is not uncommon for a three- or four-star general—our highest enterprise-level leadership—to sit on the ground or on the tailgate of a truck and rip open an MRE when visiting Soldiers in the field. We don’t really do C-suite dining.

Similar behaviors exist in our best youth programs. My kids were all in Scouts. A huge part of the Scouting program is centered around cooking and eating (they call it the Patrol Method). The idea is that if a group of teenagers can plan a meal, shop for it, and cook it over a campfire, they will learn to work together as a team. It’s always messy and sometimes a culinary catastrophe—but as a team-bonding mechanism, it works great.

Some people get it. One of my former junior officers from a billion years ago now leads an incredibly successful and high-quality commercial construction company in the Midwest. He’s doing great. And like clockwork, every Friday he posts a picture on LinkedIn of a team lunch. I can’t help but wonder – did he learn the secret of meals at the hockey team tables when he was a West Point cadet—or while sharing a dusty MRE with his platoon sergeant in Zabul Province?

So why is eating together so effective for relationship and team building?

It turns out this is all pretty well studied and understood by modern organizational psychologists.

Eating Together Signals Trust. If we’re sitting around the campfire, it means we’ve put down our weapons and let our guard down—literally and figuratively.

Eating Together Synchronizes Behavior. In pacing bites, drinking, laughing, and pausing in conversation, we achieve synchrony in behavior. That synchrony helps us connect and cooperate, giving us a feeling of shared unity. Coincidentally, this is why singing and dancing also affirm our relationships.

Eating Together Enables Informal Communication. From the junior employee to the CEO, everybody has to eat, and we all do it the same way. Because the eating ritual spans all social and positional status, it creates a venue for informal conversation. Those communication pathways are an ingredient of trust.

Eating Together Creates Positive Chemistry. #Neurochemistry. Eating good food activates dopamine and other reward hormones. When we experience those positive feelings in the presence of others, we associate those feelings with the group. We create chemistry.

Eating Together Equalizes Status. The first thing I noticed when I walked into the Ranger Dining Facility was my Battalion Commander. By being there, sitting among the platoons and squads, he was subtly communicating our shared group membership.

So - what’s the lesson?

We are always looking for the next transformational leadership theory. Maybe it’s as simple as sharing our meals together. Maybe eating together is so important that it’s something we shouldn’t rush.

I’ll finish where I started—at breakfast on August 2, 1999, in 2nd Ranger Battalion.

• The first thing I noticed was the Battalion Commander, Mike Okita, and the Command Sergeant Major, Hugh Roberts, sitting at the first table on the right.

• The second thing I noticed in the dining facility was the quality of the food. It was pretty good.

• The third thing I noticed was that SSG Jimenez deliberately invited me to sit with his squad. It was like, “poof—just like that, I’m on the team.”

Looking back, it seems so obvious. My observations are all connected and interwoven. They are a manifestation of our Commander’s leadership and presence.

Twenty-seven years later, my first great memory of the Army is eating breakfast with my new team - and my boss.

It’s worth asking, “When was the last time you ate with your team?”

Photo: U.S. Army Flikr

In late 2018 I was a Task Force Commander in Afghanistan. Our mission – hunt terrorists. More specifically, our mission was to dismantle an ISIS network that had transnational linkages into the Levant and Europe. It was an important and meaningful mission. For our Rangers that actually did the hunting – it was extraordinarily dangerous.

In simple terms, and without spilling any secrets or violating any non-disclosure agreements, our most basic mission was the night raid. It was a pretty simple formula - find the bad guy, go to his village, surround his mud hut compound, and then do your best to capture him. Yep, do your best to try to capture an ISIS terrorist that wants to kill you. Super dangerous.

We started thinking to ourselves…there has to be a better way….

What if we could somehow get an armed drone, like a little miniature helicopter with a hand-grenade on it, to fly in there, and find the bad guy, and coax him out – or blow him up.

There were rumors that such things existed. But we were in a special unit with all the latest equipment, gizmos, and gadgets, and we had never actually seen anything like we envisioned.

So, in 2018, way before Ukraine and the bubble defense tech start-ups that has emerged to meet this same requirement, we built ourselves an armed drone. More specifically, a young Ranger in Charlie Company with an electrical engineering degree built it for us. He was a wizard.

The story is exceedingly simple. In practice, it was months of figuring things out.

• We bought a half dozen DJI drones.

• We ‘cracked open’ and reprogrammed the drones.

• We procured different types of grenades and explosives.

• We experimented with explosive effects on different structures.

• We experimented flying the drones with different explosives.

• We took grenades apart to modify their firing systems.

• We built a remote-control detonating system; and practiced with it.

• We tested the potential for static charges to cause accidental detonation.

I could go on and on. The level of detailed prototyping and iteration that occurred under the supervision of a young Ranger Specialist was next level amazing.

Within three months or so we had a working prototype. We went out to a demolitions range in a back corner of Fort Benning and ran our first live test – with remote detonation – of our flying bomb. Boom. It worked great.

And, we had destroyed our only working prototype. Damn it.

So, we built another one. And this time we built a fairly robust bunker that replicated the structural qualities of an Afghan hut (which are made of a mud mixture that has the strength and durability of concrete).

Again, we went out to the range. We set all the safety parameters that we could think of setting. And we navigated our armed drone into the bunker, remotely observed the interior, remotely navigated the interior, and then detonated the device – destroying the bunker.

And this time – we documented it all in a sweet little homemade movie. It was awesome.

We packaged the movie into an email with a formal documented description of what we had done and launched to everybody we could think of – our higher headquarters, their higher headquarters, every Army munitions office, every Army innovation office, every “modernization cross-functional team,” every office in the Army that might be interested or helpful in helping us scale our homemade flying bomb into a real capability.

The silence was deafening.

Then it became clear to me – nobody was interested.

We had discovered a real requirement, and generated a real solution, that could save real lives, and nobody cared.

Finally, a trusted mentor let me in on a little secret.

“Mike, you broke a ton of rules. Nobody is signing up for the professional risk of supporting you or this initiative. You’re lucky nobody is asking too many questions.”

Okay, that’s fair, we were definitely outside the boundaries on a few things.

For example, you aren’t supposed to purchase and then reverse engineer the software packaging of commercial drones to enable them to fly over military installations. You aren’t supposed to modify munition detonating systems, you aren’t supposed to use unapproved munitions on military ranges without explicit permission and approval. You aren’t supposed to blow up commercially purchased equipment – erasing all evidence of the purchase. The list goes on and on.

It was all about risk.

- For me, it was about the physical risk to our Rangers.

- For stakeholders, it was about professional and reputational risk. And, maybe about the opportunity cost of investing into an unlikely idea. Afterall, we only have so much personal and professional bandwidth.

- For the various innovation hubs that were working on versions of the same project, it was about protecting their intellectual property, or future opportunities, or things like that. Honestly, I’m not really sure.

The truth is, I never really thought that our higher headquarters would let us use our homemade flying bomb in combat.

What I thought was…

• We’d provide a clear and visual demonstration of need…a requirement…causing our leadership to accelerate one of the sanctioned drone programs into existence to keep our Rangers safe.

Or

• One of the special units in the Army with unique innovation and acquisition capabilities would see our prototype, and grab the reigns, and help us develop a minimally viable product that we could test in combat.

None of that happened. Instead, as so often is the case, the bureaucracy grabbed ahold of small unit innovation and squashed it.

Fast forward to 2026. Russia invaded Ukraine four years ago – and in so doing – brought drone warfare to the forefront of defense innovation. Everything has changed.

• Within the defense industry, there is a growing bubble of entrepreneurial startups – all working to meet the same requirement that we discovered almost eight years ago. Some are incredibly successful.

• Across the Army – Battalions and Brigades are actively learning to build, rebuild, repair, and employ small drones. The innovation we were doing in the shadows is now encouraged, endorsed, resourced, and celebrated.

We’re on the right track, and moving fast, which is great. Of course, I can’t help but to wonder how far along we’d be if we had seen the demand signal in 2018 instead of 2022.

So, what is there to learn? After all, for all our time and energy, we didn’t actually accomplish anything.

• First. At the time, there was an undeniable cultural benefit within the Battalion. When we, as a Battalion Command Team, underwrote the risk associated with this initiative, it was a clear signal of caring trust and empowerment. We cared enough about the unit, and the Rangers to assume the professional risk of their unsanctioned tinkering.

• Second. We may have been laying a cornerstone. Across the Army, tactical units are prototyping and iterating with drone technology – and nobody is doing that better than the 75^th Ranger Regiment. While there is no direct linkage between our flying bomb project on Griswold Range so many years ago and the sophisticated work that’s happening now – it may be a distant organizational reference point. Maybe.

• Third. This story is about the past. But, it’s also happening today, in your organization. Somewhere deep in the ranks of our units and organizations, people are seeing requirements and having great ideas. At some point, they may need a little help and encouragement – and somebody willing to take a risk.

• Fourth. The world is moving fast. We live in an era of hyper evolution, a world in which environments and landscapes, things and ideas are changing at an ever-increasing rate. Leaders and teams that aren’t keeping up – evolving with the environment – and anticipating the future – risk irrelevance and obsolescence. The risk of inaction is increasing.

As a side note - Most MBA students will recognize this story as an example of the Innovator’s Dilemma – a phenomenon in which large organizations fail to invest in disruptive innovation because it presents risk (or opportunity risk) to their current (and proven) value proposition. That’s probably a different essay. 😉.