We Are Built to Cross Rivers

That’s why Churchill, as Great Britain faced a grand moral and national crisis, deemed courage “the first of all human qualities.” Aristotle said that courageous virtue is the essence of not just happiness but life itself.

Cowardice is the great opposite. Instead of building, it ruins. Fear begins in our guts and spreads into families and organizations. Living in fear is not living; it is tantamount to being a prisoner of our own weaknesses, constantly awaiting the next injustice.

Thus courage—or its absence—determines all outcomes. Modestly put, courage decides quality of life and personal as well as institutional success.

Courage is so crucial that it sits in the heart of us. That’s why we can’t help but admire and follow courage until we demonstrate it.

Courage—not brashness, greed, or recklessness—was, early in our evolution, the one quality needed for human survival. It brilliantly linked learning, communication, and teamwork to social advantage. Using courage, we slow, daylight-limited bipeds without fangs, claws, wings, armor, or four legs could subordinate our egos for the good of the clan. We could defeat the fast, lethal, night-visioned predator quadrupeds that still inhabit our collective memory—that make little kids peer under their beds at night and cause them to awaken with sudden, branch-grabbing spasms.

Long before the invention of the corporation, we were hardwired to show courage regardless of risk to ourselves. Here’s what is interesting: even today, without courage, nothing—from our relationships to our firms—is safe.

Heroism’s era has not passed. It is here, before us, for in truth, no generation, regardless of war, peace, depression, or prosperity, is spared the need to demonstrate courage.

No individual, organization, or society comes to character without struggle. We should welcome moral struggles but have told our children that if they win in academics, they’ll succeed in life. This runs counter to everything that wisdom teaches, and the results of this falsehood are becoming obvious.

There is much we do not control. Yet we have a tailor-made opportunity to build our individual and collective courage.

Courage and You

I want to equip you to cross the river, for three things are certain. First, you and your organizations will face Points of Decision. Second, the power of courageous behaviors are well known. Third, you will need courage to cross.

I’ve seen the water many times and been required to face my many swarming fears. After early and later failures—many of them the stuff of novels—I learned to accept the challenge.

If an asthmatic, legally blind, babble-mouthed kid from a Chinese immigrant family who struggled on the streets of an inner-city black ghetto and in the engineering halls of West Point could do it, you certainly can, with far more grace and far less difficulty.

When we master the skills that are the competence of courage, we confidently enact bold leadership practices, translating the first human quality (courage) into effective and inspiring actions of true excellence.

I have watched executives and managers replace behaviors of timidity, doubt, and hesitation with the high conduct of courage. With each iteration, they grew their courage competence. With each act, they inspired those around them to their best selves. Over time, they built enduring teams and deep leadership benches. They reinstalled a sense of worth and camaraderie into their work environments.

They began, like all of us, as good people. They didn’t cheat. But they wouldn’t repair conflicts. They didn’t lie, but they tolerated gossip and avoided dialogue with bullies who hurt coworkers and impaired the efforts of employees. Under pressure, these good people refused to cross the river of their own fears to do the right thing for others. They silently chose inaction and tolerated the unheroic long-term destructive consequences of fear.

What my clients discovered was that courage was not something with which we are born. That tall, physically powerful, and imposing males have no special aptitude for courage, for each of us has fair and equal access to the first human quality.

Clients discovered that courage—facing fear, acting for what is right, correcting wrongs in oneself, and addressing problems—could be developed and strengthened through practice. Courage is a learned quality, an acquirable set of skills, a practiced competence. It’s like boxing, except it’s easier, it smells better, and it causes fewer nosebleeds.

We have seen this truth since earliest human times. Moses, Joshua, Confucius, Aristotle, Abraham Lincoln, Eleanor Roosevelt, Winston Churchill, Mahatma Gandhi, Albert Einstein, and Harper Lee teach us through their lives and writing about both the accessibility and the centrality of courage in human affairs.

Points of Decision

They, like us, faced Points of Decision. Points of Decision are key institutional intersections where crises test our high core values.

Whirlpool entered a Point of Decision (POD) when it failed to meet revenue goals. MCI faced a POD when it considered merging its fiber-optic transmission network with WorldCom’s backbone services. Kimberly-Clark faced a POD when it considered selling its mills. You’ll read about these examples, and many more, at various places in this book.

Character-based institutions prepare for PODs by bulking up on courage. In PODs, key executives are predictably pressured and are expected to respond with character. Research proves that only in this singular way do we realize sustainable and outstanding results.

But even though we clearly need principled people in times of crisis, few organizations courageously prepare for their inevitable PODs.

What stops us? We resist repairing bad habits. We also resist change.

Yet principled conduct under pressure is a simple concept. It has two working parts: (1) establishment of high core values and (2) courageous behaviors in alignment with those core values.

When firms fail, it doesn’t take Sherlock Holmes and a galloping herd of bloodhounds to find the trail. Through the smoke and flames, we can still see the Point of Decision, where crisis tested values and firms were found lacking in the practice of principled conduct.

We need courage and character at our PODs.

The Lost Path

A survey of today’s busy business shelves reveals no book that explains how to have courage—or how to develop it personally or grow it organizationally. Human courage, the primary competence that saw us through Paleolithic species-threatening hazards and led the United States against the greatest empires in history, is no longer in our national consciousness.

We didn’t mean to stop developing character. No one would consciously choose to make expensive daily personal sacrifices of hard-earned well-being on the altar of fear. But while chasing increasingly elusive success, we lost our way.

In our families, universities, schools, communities, and institutions, we accidentally canceled our central national life quality program—character development. In that dimmed light, we have treated the observations of Moses, Aristotle, and Confucius as academic trivia questions instead of as demonstrated truths defining the quality of life. We actually began to believe that we no longer needed wisdom.

Courage is universal. It is needed by each of us in every conceivable circumstance. Courage, to our benefit, is a constant. I learned this as a boy fighting to be accepted as an American on the streets of San Francisco, as a deputy district attorney convicting criminals, as a senior executive with offices in three cities, as a vice-president advocating high core values, as an executive coach, as a corporate and government consultant in many fields, and as a husband and father.

I want you to have the essential gift of courage. We should all experience the benefits of courageous habits not only for ourselves but also for the people and organizations with whom we share our lives.

Coaching for Courage

I once asked Coach Tony for one punch that I could use to win every fight. “Best punch is yur left hook,” he said. I nodded eagerly. “Hook inta the bag about twenty thousand times. Then it’ll be yur best punch.”

He had taught me this when I understood nothing. After I had followed his advice to the point of exhaustion, he showed me more. Plant left foot forward, chin in, right glove up. Cock left arm, aim for the head, breathe. Swing with a grunt through the bag from the hip, pivoting on the left, a door on a jewel.

Make it whistle. Recover! Again! Again! Again! Snap lead left jab! Three hooks—Joe Louis could put five together—now right hook, snap, jab, jab! Left hook—again! Again! Right lead, snap jab, left hook, right hook, three left hooks! Didja feel that? All right! Do it again.

Because I was coached, I can coach you. You won’t have to bob and weave, get arm-weary, get a busted nose, or need a transfusion. But through the pages of this book, we will develop the reproducible behaviors of courage.

True Stories

Courage: The Backbone of Leadership uses true stories from Whirlpool, Kaiser Permanente, IntegWare, and other actual organizations. This lets us observe executives as they face and overcome the worries and fears that confront us all. For you will also be required to face your own private and institutional Points of Decision. Everyone does.

We’ll watch these executives use the behaviors of courage to produce extraordinary and reproducible results. We’ll also watch their very smart, gifted, experienced, and worry-burdened counterparts fail.

Their collective examples offer us practical lessons, practice opportunities, and operational to-do’s that we can apply to our decisions on leadership’s playing fields.

We can use the transformational power of courage to lead effective change.

After reading this book, you will own the tools to transform yourself, your organization, and your family.

Organization of the Book

This book is a primer on courage. It has three parts.

In Part One, we watch Chris Kay of IntegWare approach several Points of Decision. We learn what happens when courage is not considered and what happens when it is.

Through Chris’s story, we will experience the call to courage, the obstacles in our path, and the emancipation from fear and failure when values-based, principled, courageous behaviors are employed.

We will see ourselves in Chris’s story.

Part Two, “Courage in Action,” is the book’s core.

Courage is manifested in courageous communication, courageous leadership, courageous problem-solving, and in resolving high-end conflicts.

These tools and skills constitute the competence of courage and are presented in a progression of learning based on programs that have been presented to Levi Strauss, Kaiser Permanente, Whirlpool, ISEC, IntegWare, West Point, the FBI, the U.S. Department of Justice, the Young Presidents Organization, Centura Hospitals, the Smithsonian Institution, the La Jolla Conference, various colleges and universities, the National Conference of Supreme Court Justices, and since 1994, West Point’s National Conference on Ethics in America.

We first learn the three base skills: courageous communication, courageous leadership, and courageous problem solving. We’re then ready to enter corporate tiger country to learn to face and fix high-end conflicts and mend gut-wrenching personal, departmental, and institutional feuds.

Part Three, “Growing Your Courage,” concludes with a set of take-away practices. These equip you to fight entropy—the natural erosion and retrogression of values, integrity, and skills.

Throughout the book, we learn to use specific tools and measurements to apply the behaviors of courage in everyday situations.

Life is demanding. Luckily, there is one quality that drives transformational leadership and personal and institutional success.

That one quality is courage, Churchill’s prime human quality.

One day, I passed the final test to become a YMCA junior leader. Coach Tony gave me a key to the Central Y; I could open up the gym for other kids, turn on the lights, line up the gear against the walls, and start training classes with warm-ups and answering questions.

With this book, you can open up doors for your organization, for your family, and for your life.

You can turn on the lights for yourself and others.

You can make uncommon courage common.

Part One

BACKBONE AT THE POINT OF DECISION

Here’s a truth: principled leaders solve moral problems. They have the courage to act rightly. They consistently demonstrate principled conduct under pressure.

This gives them the strong spine to be effective and envied leaders. Backbone is what everyone admires, everyone needs, everyone wants, and everyone follows.

Courage is the single most decisive trait in a leader. This is because personal and organizational crises are as routine and predictable as midtown cabs and sirens, and a manager without courage is as useful as a rowboat in a bullfight.

Leaders with courage lend backbone to their organizations. Then, when institutions face their Points of Decision—when serious crises test actual core values and therefore an institution’s future—both leaders and institutions can act rightly and powerfully.

In Part One, we’ll meet actual executives in real firms who strive to apply courage and high core values to the types of problems and challenges we all face. We’ll watch as they develop courage and backbone in themselves, their companies, and their families.

CHRIS’S STORY

Courage is not simply one of the virtues but the form of every virtue at the testing point.

—C. S. Lewis

IntegWare is a product life cycle management software company that serves Accenture, Agilent, Apple, General Electric, General Motors, Hewlett-Packard, Johnson & Johnson, NEC, Siemens, TRW, and many other Fortune 1000 firms.

IntegWare’s CEO is Christopher Armstrong Kay, a square-shouldered, clean-cut, tightly organized Hewlett-Packard engineering veteran who took IntegWare’s helm when it was trying to choose between breaking into pieces and diving off a cliff.

Like most executives, he didn’t think that courage would be at the center of his recovery operation. He was focused on staff, deliverables, productivity, brains, quality, speed, and revenues.

Like most execs, Chris didn’t relish crisis. A glance at his organized desk and the neat press of his clothing suggests that he prefers a well-disciplined shop to one with trash fires, cracking floors, and nervous customers. Chris was acutely conscious of high operating principles when he took the helm. This put him ahead in a tough game, but this is one of those deep advantages that is not immediately visible.

Chris had arrived long after IntegWare had sped past its first major crises and Points of Decision—those key moments when crisis tests principles. Years earlier, key IntegWare managers should have been replaced by leaders with character. Years earlier, ethical relationships should have been preserved against the pressures of expediency, denial, puffery, self-interest, and favoritism.

Weeks after he had positioned his family pictures in his new office, the historical bills for low and poorly performed core values came due. The firm was no longer beguiled by a choice of a stark either-or; it was now actively breaking up and sliding down a cliff.

In its free fall down Darwin’s ladder, IntegWare had lost its moorings. Its people wrestled for survival using prehistoric tools: backstabbing, gossip, rumors, and panic followed by the departure of some and the fears of all. This is super material for a teen horror film but unwelcome conditions for a good company.

Infighting had split the firm; debt capacity was at redline; printers spat out résumés; customers were worried; and work had become as much fun as exchanging gunfire in evening traffic. Yet it somehow continued to deliver products. IntegWare needed cash, customers, talent, strategic planning, core values, leadership, teamwork, a retreat, and new coffeemakers. But in what order?

Order is elusive when hearts and minds are lost in the fogs of economic struggle, fearful choices, and family despair.

Chris, like Aristotle, could separate the essential from the important, the necessary from the pressing. The Greeks called this ability diaphoranta. It enables great decision making.

In the winds of unit disorder and private miseries, Chris saw the essential fact about his firm: We have no operating principles around which to mount a recovery, no core values serving as the unifying behavioral standard for the firm’s next level of performance. He saw that everything other than values was secondary.

Chief Operating Officer Will Sampson, a big, steady Iowan, would help. Sampson agreed to run the shop, maintain quality, and manage internal customer relations. Most important, he would work with the staff to develop new company core values while Chris sprinted around the globe reassuring customers and meeting with employees, asking them to stay and trust him.

Chris quickly set sample core values (integrity, teamwork, innovation, customer focus, borrowed from an earlier firm) for company consideration, wrote code in emergencies, brought in meals for late-night workers, picked up trash to suggest good order, got new contracts for down-range revenues, gave up sleep for Lent, and quashed vicious company rumors for fun. Attrition stopped. His efforts were allowing a glimpse of sunlight.

It was then that a history of IntegWare delays and unresolved internal and external conflicts caught up with the company. These issues had been hounding the company and now they arrived, panting, tired, angry, and demanding. They cost cash, damaged relationships, and reduced supplementary support needed for key deliverables. Soured relationships turned bitter. Blaming became viral. Sullen silence settled like a Grand Banks fog. People began leaving again. You could feel it: the ship was sinking. Emergency funds were urgently needed, and strategy was out. The company was down to finding immediate tactical responses for the hour and the moment.

Chris met with Will Sampson, who had failed to begin the core values process or solve a single office conflict. But Sampson agreed to carry 35 percent of the debt to refloat a crucial line of credit. Chris would shoulder the rest. But Will missed the key bank appointment, apologized, and then missed the rescheduled meetings.

Standing alone in a sunny parking lot after another canceled bank meeting, Chris grimaced, as if small muscular flexions could dispel all bad feeling. To the casual observer, Chris appeared intact, but his insides were flopping on the concrete.

He thought: Look at the facts. You’re on notice that Will is a major problem. For a moment, Chris wasn’t standing in the Rockies. He was back being a second-grader in his Dallas home. His parents had quietly closed the kitchen door to say whatever sad things they said to each other when they tried, without success, to fix their problems. He and Ellen, his five-year-old sister, tried to listen through the thick door, hoping to hear good things but needing even more to deny the truth.

The truth was that their parents couldn’t resolve their differences. They were good people, but they lacked the skills. For years, they had unintentionally been installing the vast childhood fears of separation and abandonment deep into the psyches of their small children. The parents resorted, as many of us do, to trying to cover up reality for others instead of learning new skills for themselves.

Chris’s father left the home that year, never to return. Chris’s dad remained active in the Boy Scouts and camping. A few times, he took Chris fishing at big, blue Lake Texarkana. There the father and son sat silently and uncomfortably, studying their bobbers, praying for the nibble that would let them feel something together and magically recover the father’s lost commitment.

Chris shook his head. He had to confront Will Sampson and figure out why his COO was a no-do and a no-show. Why would a man say he’d do something and not do it? What do I do about this now? We’re in a punctured lifeboat fighting for our lives.

Chris returned to the office to plug holes. He realized that he couldn’t afford the possibility that Will Sampson wasn’t going to come through. IntegWare couldn’t survive the year without a bailout, and that required Will. Chris set another appointment with him. In the next weeks, he kept accepting Will’s increasingly weak excuses for not delivering the goods in core values development, results, and cash.

Chris was worried about Dornier Klein, a major Fortune 500 client whose overseas financial firms IntegWare had served for years. Chris’s predecessor had warned him about this company.

“Dornier Klein doesn’t like us. They only love Gene Stingley.”

Gene Stingley was one of IntegWare’s most brilliant thinkers and its most relationally challenged manager. He had performed intellectual wonders for Klein and had an unusually tight relationship with Klein’s CIO, CTO, and COO. Klein had included Gene in every major in-house corporate event and party in Europe, Asia, and North America.

Then Chris received a call from Klein’s CEO. Chris greeted him.

The Klein CEO bluntly told Chris that he should name Gene Stingley COO of IntegWare. “If you don’t, I’m going to hire Stingley away from you. Chris, I’d save a lot of money having him in my own shop. My guess is that naming him COO is easier than all the alternatives.”

Chris politely said he’d think about the idea and get back to the man. Quickly calling HR, Chris was told that Gene Stingley had refused to update his noncompete clause for over a decade. Thus Gene was probably free to work for Klein or for anyone else.

Chris checked the time, which was running unnaturally fast. He thought of speaking directly to Gene Stingley, remembering how difficult it was to even mention his special relationship with Klein.

A project engineer came to a scheduled appointment to explain that a major product data management proposal had been critically underbid by a sales exec.

“This isn’t the first time this has happened,” she said. It needed immediate modification before key consultants became unavailable. Chris was asking her cost questions when an essential contracting administrator, on the edge of tears, opened the door, stood awkwardly, and blurted out that he needed a month off, immediately.

“I’ll be right with you,” said Chris. “Be in your office in ten.”

Chris’s investment banker called, saying it was urgent. Chris asked the engineer to begin the modification orders and made a note to talk to the VP of sales. He picked up the phone to learn that the call truly was urgent; he now had major treasury and investment issues.

His assistant placed the two late and troubled operations summaries—needing his immediate quality and cost review—on his desk, next to his uneaten lunch and untouched breakfast burrito.

He scanned his e-mail. One of his department heads had written an urgent note: You need to know that I can’t work with Sly Travers anymore. Travers was a senior manager.

He had a flashback to a Marx Brothers movie with a stateroom and fifty waiters, butlers, maids, and shoeshine men trying to work while jammed together like fruit in a blender. Will Sampson opened the door in a rare appearance. He motioned for Chris to get off the phone. Behind Will, Chris saw Gene Stingley whispering to a testing manager who was one of Will Sampson’s main office allies.

Chris looked at the clock: time for Heather’s soccer game. One minute to catch up with the administrator. He wondered what Will Sampson would say. He needed to make it home for dinner once this week. Well, maybe next quarter. Suddenly, he remembered that his son Grant had written him a note. He fished it from his pocket:

Daddy, I want to rassle with you tonight. Love, Grant.

I wish, he thought. Grant was a bright lad who watched his father’s eyes and every movement as if they held the answers to the cosmos. Last night, Chris had returned home late, again. He had run up to Grant’s bedroom. In the dark, he sensed that his son was feigning sleep, like a lost bear cub trying to trick a Texarkana mountain lion. Chris wanted to say something. His mouth opened, but no words came.

The meetings with the contracting administrator and Sampson were not wonderful. He had to allow the administrator to take time off and realized that he would have to somehow secure total firm refinancing by himself.

Chris looked at his watch; he had to send a memo to the board. The chairman was concerned about the status of new RFP responses. He outlined the board memo and picked up his private line.

Suppressing a mild inclination toward panic, Chris called a consultant for advice.

The consultant asked him to name the diaphoranta—the essential issue facing him.

“My COO, Will Sampson. International IBM experience. Top schools. Very, very smart. Great presence. And he’s killing me.”

The consultant asked Chris to describe Will’s character, Will’s ability to consistently sustain integrity-based behaviors.

“I guess not good,” said Chris. “He’s lying. I don’t know why.”

“How does that answer inform your next step?”

Pause. “I guess I have to ask him to step down.”

The consultant remained silent.

“You saying I should fire him?” asked Chris.

The consultant took a moment. “If Will were on the market today, would you hire him?”

“No way.”

“I think that’s your answer.”

“But he’s a good man. He’s just in a bad place right now. A lot of people trust him, and he has family problems. It’s not serious or long-term, but I can’t fire him.”

The consultant was sympathetic. “Family issues make it tougher emotionally. Do you have any options to help him if he left?”

“I think I’d rather carry him than fire him.”

The consultant got the details: Will Sampson had not performed crucial core tasks and had lied about his commitments. Staff knew of his failures to deliver. There were no indications he’d improve despite Chris’s many attempts to counsel him on performance.

The consultant suggested that Chris get a thorough background check on his COO and then identify the right thing to do.

Chris learned that Will had a history of poor execution at IntegWare. Friends at IBM shared confidentially that Will was popular, but for unclear reasons, he had left under a cloud.

Chris grimaced. He had erred by interpreting the suggestion of competence for the presence of integrity. That error was now inflicting moral and economic risks on the company and himself.

He asked his assistant to hold his calls. He needed to discern.

Chris imagined firing Will. Instantly, he felt a jolt of fear: at least two mission-essential managers were Will’s allies; Will could take them with him. Will, like Gene Stingley, also had a special relationship with another key customer who was on the bubble with IntegWare.