2
Symbolism and Personal Example

Speaking with utmost conviction, Shackleton pointed out that no article was of any value when weighed against their ultimate survival, and he exhorted them to be ruthless in ridding themselves of every unnecessary ounce, regardless of its value. After he had spoken, he reached under his parka and took out a gold cigarette case and several gold sovereigns and threw them into the snow at his feet.¹

—Alfred Lansing

Chapter 1 stressed the vital importance of keeping energy flowing toward short- and long-term goals. This chapter highlights a set of specific leadership tactics for mobilizing that energy through personal example and with clear, concrete images and symbols.

Particularly under conditions of stress and discouragement, visible leadership can mean the difference between success and failure. Shackle-ton understood this well. He knew just how important it was for the crew to see him as the leader—and to outline the work to be accomplished with unmistakable clarity. We do not all have to be Ernest Shackleton, but leaders need to be aware that their personal presence is a unique source of energy and power. They need to draw on this power to lead their organizations to The Edge.

Give the Right Speech

When the situation is dire, the power of the right words is striking. It is impossible to exaggerate the devastation the men felt when Endurance was crushed by the ice. As Captain Frank Worsley wrote:

Actuated by an invisible force countless miles away, the rigging tautened and sang like harp strings, then snapped under the strain as the ship was twisted and wrung by the giant hands of ice that grasped her. … To talk was impossible. Each man knew that it was the end of the ship. We had lost our home in that universe of ice. We had been cast out into a white wilderness that might well prove to be our tomb.²

The loss of the actual ship, dramatic though it was, was made more poignant by the men’s sure knowledge of its consequences. They had only a four-week supply of food; their linen tents were so flimsy that they provided minimal protection; the lack of tent floors meant that the crew were sleeping in pools of water as the heat from their bodies melted the ice. Even though Endurance would not sink immediately, everyone knew that, as Frank Worsley wrote, “Many of our stores were irretrievable. … A shortage of food was not a pleasant prospect.”³

The explorers were standing on an ice floe, in the middle of the Weddell Sea, listening to the beams of their ship snapping in two, knowing they could never get to their stores, and wondering what would happen next. Despite Worsley’s quaint Victorian understatement, their anxiety must have been palpable. At this point, Shackleton made a speech. Frank Wild remembered:

Shackleton made a characteristic speech to hearten our party, the sort of speech that only he could make. Simply and in brief sentences he told the men not to be alarmed at the loss of the vessel, and assured them that by hard effort, clean work, and loyal cooperation, they could make their way to land. This speech had an immediate effect: our spirits rose, and we were inclined to take a more cheerful view of a situation that had nothing in it to warrant the alteration.⁴

The crew knew that nothing had physically changed. But Shackleton used precisely the right words and tone. He chose words that gave members of the expedition a sense of control over their fate. Shackleton later recalled:

After the tents had been pitched I mustered all hands … and stated that I propose to try to march with equipment in the direction of Paulet. … I thanked the men for the steadiness and good morale they have shown in these trying circumstances, and told them I had no doubt that, provided they continue to work their utmost and to trust me, we will all reach safety in the end.⁵

It is axiomatic that people who do not believe they can influence their destiny become anxious and fearful. Shackleton’s words gave them the belief that they could influence their own survival and that of the expedition.

In addition, Shackleton chose the right tone—calm, confident, and reassuring. It might have been tempting to dramatize the situation, but Shackleton chose a calm demeanor, probably using his characteristically solid stance with his hands on his hips. His speech was not a pep talk or a locker-room rallying exhortation. That would have been incongruent, given the gravity of the situation. Shackleton’s speech provided a balanced, realistic look at the situation and assured the men of his confidence that they would survive through their own efforts.

Lessons for Leaders

I have worked with a number of senior executives who are uncomfortable in large group settings. As a result, they exercise leadership in their most natural style, emphasizing one-on-one or small-group interactions.

Establishing strong individual relationships is an important part of leadership. But there are times when the role demands something different, when the energy of the entire group or organization needs to be mobilized. On these occasions, the leader needs to face his or her team and communicate a message to the team as a whole—to make a speech.

I have seen speeches take the form of “get one for the Gipper” motivational addresses. I have also seen speakers deliver extended, dry remarks filled with complex financial projections, or sermons filled with dire predictions about the future—and admonitions to work hard or else.

There are occasions for financial projections and times when a standard set of motivational remarks will suffice. There are other times at The Edge, however, when something more is needed. These are the times that call for the right speech.

The right speech needs to be more than a recital of remarks written by a staff member given the job of coming up with something clever. The right speech needs to be authentic, and it needs to be delivered with sincerity. But it need not be filled with histrionics. It is more important for the message to be delivered from the heart than with flowery language, and there are times when a cheerleading speech is counterproductive.

When the situation is grim—when people are fearful and obstacles loom large—an excessively cheerful and overly emotional message is the wrong speech. What is called for is calm reassurance, straight talk, and unmistakable resolve.

Mary Jane Fortin was appointed as CEO of American General Life Insurance in August of 2009. Fortin assumed the role of chief executive the same month that Robert Benmosche came out of retirement, leaving his Croatian vineyard to lead the beleaguered parent company, American International Group.

It is difficult to overstate the grimly chaotic circumstances surrounding American General and AIG at that time. The world was still recoiling from the fall of Lehman Brothers and the subsequent collapse of the credit markets. AIG had posted a $100 billion loss the year before, and its stock prices had plummeted. Newspapers were filled with headlines predicting the worst, including a Wall Street Journal article by Arthur Laffer declaring that “The Age of Prosperity Is Over.”⁶

The fall of the insurance giant AIG was, in many ways, similar to the sinking of the Endurance: A vessel that all had thought was secure had, astonishingly, imploded. It was the biggest banking crisis in seventy years. Jim Millstein, the Treasury Department’s chief restructuring officer, recalled that AIG “was totally toxic, and nobody really wanted to be identified with it. … It looked like it was going to collapse.”⁷

Many taxpayers were infuriated by the $182.3 billion government bailout and eager to point fingers at anyone connected with AIG. Their anger was sometimes directed at employees of American General, who had nothing to do with the people at AIG Financial Products unit who had taken big bets on complicated credit products. Everyone—including clerical workers—had to face the possibility of being accosted in public, or even physically threatened.

It was in this atmosphere that Mary Jane Fortin agreed to take the helm of American General. Although she was described as a “rising star” by insurance industry publications, Fortin had no prior experience as a chief executive. She had developed a strong reputation as a CFO, but this role was different. The organization was enveloped in fear, and the future was uncertain.

Fortin called American General’s corporate officers together at a meeting to discuss their situation. Most were physically present in Houston; others watched the videocast in locations throughout the country.

With her petite stature and sense of style, Fortin did not fit anyone’s preconception of an insurance industry executive. Nevertheless, she projected a compelling ebullience that filled the room.

Fortin began by talking about the rich history of American General and how it had repeatedly demonstrated resilience. Fortin expressed confidence that the company had worked through change many times before and every time had become stronger and better. She then recounted a personal story:

I, like you, have been wrapped up in many of the AIG events. I read the horrible media stories that we were working for the most hated company in America. It has been a tough time, but I received a call from my parents telling me that my 47-year-old cousin had died unexpectedly. He left behind two 9-year-old children, and a stay-at-home mom.

What struck me, as I reflected on the call when I took the plane ride home to Connecticut, were two things. One was that what I thought was a crisis was, quite frankly, not that much of a crisis compared to what had struck my cousin’s family. And, second, I said to myself, “I hope he took care of the kids, I hope he had life insurance.”

It hit me, at that moment, that I had forgotten the importance of what we do on a day-to-day basis. We help people protect their families. We help them save for retirement. We help them out during one of the most profound and difficult moments in their lives. We do good work, we do necessary work, and we should be proud of what we do. We can never forget that.⁸

It was clear that Fortin had spoken from the heart. But the fact that their work was important work didn’t change reality. They had been downgraded by the rating agencies, the AIG brand was toxic, and the parent company was not flush with excess capital. They were no longer the 800-pound gorilla.

Fortin went on to recognize these realities but argued that—despite the obstacles—the American General team could still be successful and rebuild the organization. She then asked the group to indulge her while she shared another story:

In June of this year, I traveled to Italy with my husband and my 12-year-old daughter. For those of you who don’t know, my parents were born in Italy and immigrated to the United States a couple of years before I was born.

I was fascinated to learn that Venice, which is built on a series of islands, was developed by refugees fleeing a barbarian invasion. They sought refuge on these deserted islands, leaving behind their homes and their belongings.

Instead of giving up, these refugees—through incredible vision, innovation, creativity, hard work, and sheer courage—built Venice into a major thriving city. This city, over time, became a huge strategic European region. Even today, thousands of years later, it is a true marvel for all of us.

As the local expert was explaining all this, I couldn’t help but think about what we were going through here. And I realized that the refugees had made a choice in the face of adversity: They chose to rebuild, and they chose to win. They chose to make themselves better, and to create a lasting legacy. And then I thought about us, and that we have choices to make as well.

I have chosen to look forward, to rebuild, and to win. And I need you to make that same choice. There is no question that we have suffered a setback, but at the core we have not changed. We are a resilient organization that prides itself on innovation. This is not gone, and no one has taken this away from us. We need to get the message out: American General is open for business.

I want to thank you for your talent and your energy and your perseverance during what I know has been an incredibly difficult time. I’m looking forward to making this organization as extraordinary as it can be, and I’m looking forward to having your help in doing that. So let’s go!⁹

Like Shackleton, Fortin acknowledged the severity of their circumstances; she used powerful metaphors to capture the importance of their work and the task that lay ahead; and she painted a vivid image of success. Finally, like Shackleton, she expressed appreciation for the hard work that had been done to survive the crisis that had engulfed them.

Fortin’s remarks were met with thunderous applause. And with that, Fortin and her team began their own “sledge march” to open water.

Use Vivid Symbols

Although Shackleton deliberately took a low-key tone in describing the expedition’s situation, he was far more dramatic when he outlined the work to be done to reach the expedition’s goals. Not an alarmist about things he could do nothing about, he was a genius at drawing on drama, even theatricality, when he needed to mobilize the expedition to overcome extraordinary obstacles.

Shackleton had demonstrated his ability to use symbolic behavior earlier—in Buenos Aires—when First Officer Lionel Greenstreet fouled the propeller while attempting to maneuver Endurance. Greenstreet expected to be called on the carpet, perhaps even disciplined. Instead, Shackleton helped him repair the damage and never again spoke about the incident. The message he had visibly demonstrated was clear: We will all make mistakes; fix them and move on. This public act became a symbolic gesture for the whole expedition.

When Endurance was crushed by the ice, Shackleton again acted symbolically. He was convinced that a successful sledge march to the ocean could be accomplished only if every nonessential item was discarded. He had to communicate to the crew that anything that would not contribute to the success of the expedition—no matter what the emotional attachment or how intrinsically valuable elsewhere—had to be left behind.

Shackleton realized that some personal items, though they did not necessarily contribute to physical survival, were essential for psychological well-being. He struggled to find a balance between weight and speed:

I rather grudged the two pounds allowance per man, owing to my keen anxiety to keep weight at a minimum, but some personal belongings could fairly be regarded as indispensable. The journey might be a long one, and there was a possibility of a winter in improvised quarters on an inhospitable coast at the other end. A man under such conditions needs something to occupy his thoughts, some tangible memento of his home and people beyond the seas.¹⁰

So mementos of home were indispensable, while other items that might have had great value in a different situation were expendable. After issuing the order that each man could carry only two pounds of personal gear, Shackleton set the example for traveling light with a dramatic gesture. He reached inside his parka, took out a handful of gold sovereigns, and threw them to the ground at his feet. Again, he reached into his parka and found a gold cigarette case. This too he threw to the ground.

The message, as Worsley recalled, was clear:

Shackleton now determined to cut down every ounce of superfluous weight, in the hope that we could sledge to Graham Land, the most northerly part of the Antarctic Continent. He himself set the example, throwing away, what a spectacular gesture, a gold watch, a gold cigarette case, and several golden sovereigns. Naturally, after witnessing this action, which brought home to me at any rate the shifting values in life and the knowledge that there are times when gold can be a liability instead of an asset, we all discarded everything save the barest necessaries.¹¹

In this dramatic gesture, Shackleton personally demonstrated that only items that had value in terms of survival were important. He provided a focus for the expedition that was unmistakable and unambiguous: We must jettison anything that will not directly enable us to accomplish our goal.

Lessons for Leaders

It is one thing to tell people that a task needs to be done, and it is another to dramatize the challenge with visible, memorable symbols and behaviors. These symbols can be as dramatic as throwing gold sovereigns into the snow, or they can be more prosaic. Whatever the symbol, it needs to be vivid and memorable.

One airline—ranked last in customer service among the ten largest airlines—was stifled with a bureaucratic set of rules that specified everything from the color of pencils to be used on boarding passes to the kind of fold used in a sick-day form. The problem was that these rules had tied the hands of airline employees to the point that they had no real discretion to solve problems—and they were punished for disobeying the rules.

If a plane was canceled, for example, a full-fare passenger might get a hotel room, whereas a next-in-line bargain-fare passenger could get a meal voucher. Naturally, this sort of rigid decision making did little for the company’s public image. It also subjected gate agents to the wrath of irate customers, practically making gate agents eligible for hazardous-duty pay.

The policy manual—the “Thou Shalt Not Book”—was an icon for this rigid system. To symbolize the need for change, the CEO took a group of employees into the parking lot. They threw the manual into a fifty-five-gallon drum, poured gasoline onto it, and set it afire. By burning the manual, they sent a message to the organization: Do not blindly follow the book—use your ingenuity and do what is right for the company and for the customer.¹²

Be Visible: Let People See You Leading

Shackleton understood the importance of demonstrating through action as well as words that he was a leader doing his duty. He was a visible presence throughout the experience, yet one of the most striking examples took place during the open boat voyage from Patience Camp to Elephant Island.

This grueling journey was one of their most physically exhausting, demoralizing experiences. The men were soaked by constant rain, and the cold was so severe that sleep was often impossible. The tiny boats were surrounded by the hisses of killer whales, and the men dealt with the fear that they could capsize when the creatures came up to blow.

The winds and currents were so strong that—after hours under sail—they were sometimes dismayed to discover that not only had they made no forward progress, they were actually farther from their destination than when they had begun. Exacerbating the situation, they lacked fresh water and could relieve their thirst only by chewing raw seal meat and swallowing the blood. Finally, to cap it off, many of the men suffered from sea-sickness as the small boats wallowed in the heavy swells.

Shackleton described the scene:

The temperature was down to four degrees below zero, and a film of ice formed on the surface of the sea. When we were not on watch we lay in each other’s arms for warmth. Our frozen suits thawed where our bodies met, and as the slightest movement exposed these comparatively warm spots to the biting air, we clung motionless, whispering each to his companion our hopes and thoughts. Occasionally from an almost clear sky came snow-showers, falling silently on the sea and laying a thin shroud of white over our bodies and our boats.¹³

Conditions were so severe that there were times when Shackleton doubted that all hands would survive the night. If ever there was a time for visible, inspiring leadership, this was it. Understanding the importance of his role, Shackleton made a point of standing erect in the stern of the lifeboat James Caird, “conning the course,” showing that he was keeping vigil and inspiring the men.

When Hurley, the photographer, lost his mittens, Orde-Lees observed Shackleton’s response:

At once [he] divested himself of his own, and in spite of the fact that he was standing up in the most exposed position all the while he insisted upon Hurley’s acceptance of the mits, and on the latter’s protesting Sir Ernest was on the point of throwing them overboard rather than wear them when one of his subordinates had to go without; as a consequence Sir Ernest had one finger rather severely frostbitten.¹⁴

Shackleton’s presence as a leader and his example of self-sacrifice were critical to the crew’s success in reaching the safety of Elephant Island.

A more recent example, one from the Vietnam War, confirms the power of visible leadership. Phil Caputo was a Marine lieutenant in Vietnam. In his personal memoir, A Rumor of War, Caputo describes the way his platoon sergeant, “Wild Bill” Campbell, dealt with the panic of an ambush. Caputo and his platoon had come under heavy automatic-weapons fire. Bullets were smacking into trees, shredding leaves, and snapping twigs. The Marines panicked, emptying their magazines and wasting ammunition by firing at targets they could not see. Caputo recalled:

I wasn’t frightened, just confused. Or maybe I was confused because I was frightened. Then I heard Campbell’s voice booming above and behind us. “Cease fire, you silly shits! Cease fire!” Several enemy bullets walked up the trail behind him, splattering dust, the last round striking less than an inch from his heel. He kept walking as casually as a coach at the rifle range. “Cease fire, Second [Platoon]. Can’t see what the hell you’re shooting at. Let’s have a little goddamned fire discipline.”¹⁵

Encouraged by the sergeant’s calmness while under intense enemy fire, the Marines came to their senses and stopped wasting ammunition. The gunfire halted, and Lieutenant Caputo climbed out of the trench in which he had taken cover. When Caputo complimented the sergeant on his presence of mind, Campbell brushed off his heroism, attributing it to a back injury he’d sustained jumping off the chopper. Most likely, the veteran Marine knew that his platoon was spooked and out of control and needed reassurance. His personal example turned the platoon around in a tough situation.

Lessons for Leaders

Leaders can be quietly competent, but they must be visible. The open boat journey to Elephant Island was physically demanding and one of the most extreme stress points that the expedition had encountered. It was stressful for everyone, but especially for Shackleton, who bore the principal burden of leadership.

In spite of the personal hardship, Shackleton recognized the importance of being in the forefront and was willing to face the freezing ocean spray. “Wild Bill” Campbell also understood the importance of visible leadership and stood conspicuously under fire to stabilize his platoon.

This type of action is all too easy to talk about in the abstract, when one is warm and dry, or in a case study discussion of leadership. It is quite different to be a visible leader when you are exhausted and facing danger—whether the threat comes from weather, sniper fire, or angry customers, analysts, or shareholders.

These difficult situations, however, are those during which it is most important to let people see you “standing in the stern sheets.” If you are conscious of this necessity, you can create opportunities for visibility that allow you to use the power of your role as a leader to provide assurance, direction, and inspiration.

The power of visible leadership is not, however, restricted to turnarounds and crises. Ray Kroc, the founder of McDonald’s, had a penchant for stopping unannounced at the McDonald’s restaurants near the company’s headquarters in Oakbrook, Illinois. He relayed this story of what happened on one such occasion:

One sunny July afternoon, I pulled into a McDonald’s parking space and noticed that the flowering bushes were littered with shake cups, Happy Meal boxes, napkins, and other trash. Inside, I asked for the manager. Only the assistant manager was there, so I had him call the manager and waited for the anxious man to rush in after a speedy drive from his nearby home. “What can I do for you, sir?” the manager asked me. I led him to the parking lot, pointed at the shrubbery, and said, “Look! We don’t want trash around our sites!” In a matter of minutes, I, my driver, and the manager had picked up all the garbage out of the bushes.¹⁶

By working side by side with this manager, Kroc conveyed that it is more important to fix a problem than to establish blame, and he also set an example that no one is above doing the work that needs to be done. This story has become part of the corporate lore at McDonald’s and has helped to establish a culture where attention to detail and collaboration are valued.

The point of these stories is clear: You, as a leader, have a unique role and a special power. Chart your course and—with presence, symbolism, and personal example—use that power to lead your organization to The Edge.

Expedition Log

1. As you look at and think about the things your team needs to do to reach The Edge, what are the most critical priorities?

2. How can those priorities be dramatized with vivid, memorable symbols or images? Is there a story or metaphor that portrays the work to be done? What is your equivalent of throwing gold sovereigns into the snow?

3. Have you given the right speech to mobilize the power of the team? Do you need to address your team members again, to reenergize the organization?

4. What is your visibility plan? That is, what are you doing to ensure that you are visible as a leader? How much time do you spend out of the office or in situations that allow you to project your presence?