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The Question Of LeadershipA good leader sets the right goals, gets things moving,
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| Ruler | Leader | Manager | Visionary | Savant | Guru | |
| Jefferson | + | + | + | * | * | * |
| Lincoln | * | * | * | + | * | + |
| Gandhi | - | * | - | * | * | * |
| E. Roosevelt | - | - | * | * | + | * |
| F. Roosevelt | * | * | + | + | + | - |
| Hitler | * | * | + | * | - | - |
| M. L. King | + | * | - | * | * | * |
| Carter | - | - | + | - | * | + |
| Reagan | * | * | - | * | - | - |
"*" means strong; "+" means adequate; "-" means deficient. If you agree with these rankings, you can see why Eleanor and Franklin Roosevelt made a good team and what a set of opposites our nation chose when we switched from Jimmy Carter to Ronald Reagan. You may also be shocked, as we were, to see which other leader Reagan most resembles.
If you disagree with these rankings or if you see more words that should be added to the list, then we can begin a discussion that we should be having nationwide. Citizens of a democracy should be as expert about leadership as Eskimos are about snow, however many words it takes.
Up here in New Hampshire what we call "silly season" starts a full year before our first-in-the-nation presidential primary. Hopeful candidates pop up everywhere shaking hands. We're likely to run into senators, governors, even vice presidents at the shopping center, at the town hall, at the local diner. They parade around our rock-bound little state to test out what sort of person we'll vote for in the next presidential election.
We New Hampshirites are used to this game. Some of us apparently relish it since we fight tenaciously to maintain our god-given right to hold the first primary in the land. But, frankly, I never look forward to primary season. The hoopla is fun and profitable to the state, but I'm tired of it. I wish we could have a discussion about the best possible president rather than a circus to see who can make jokes, avoid flubs, and keep blow-dried hair in place while wearing funny hats.
I'd like, just once in my life, to have a chance to vote for someone I think would be a great president. But the political parties tramping around here asking for my vote aren't likely to give me that opportunity because to my way of thinking a great president is not a creature of a political party or a fabrication of an election campaign.
I'm looking for someone who is willing to speak to me without being coached by public relations experts; someone who is presented as a human being, not marketed like a new flavor of Coke; someone who can admit to making a mistake, whose shoes are not perfectly polished, who can get mad, who thinks out loud, who can answer a question by saying, "I don't know. I'll do my best to find out."
I'd like a candidate who is not pledged to promote just one way of looking at things, not just the Republican or Democratic way or even my way. I'd like someone who can be president of us all, who listens not just to the right or the left, but who realizes that there's some truth and a lot of exaggeration in every point of view and who knows how to search out the truth. It would help if this candidate had a stand: a moral, not ideological, stand, one that he or she had come to through experience and reflection, a stand so thoroughly integrated with the candidate's identity that he or she could never be false to it no matter what the pressures - the sort of stand for freedom that Jefferson had, the stand for union of a Lincoln, the stand for equity of a Martin Luther King.
I'd like to vote for someone who wants to win in order to serve the people and the nation, not one who wants to win in order to win.
I'd like someone who knows not just about politics and factions, but about the world, other peoples and cultures, the thoughts and dreams of the 94 percent of humanity who happen not to be born in the US. I'd like my candidate to know about the rest of the world not just from books, not from advisers, but from having been there.
I want a president who can see beyond statistics to identify with housewives, farmers, steelworkers and small businessmen, the unemployed and the poor, as real people, not as voting blocs.
The candidate I'd vote for would treasure the environment and the resources of our country - the soils and waters and air, the human beings, and especially the children - and would realize that in them, not in weapons and threats, is our national security.
Most important, I'd vote for a person who not only speaks the rhetoric of peace, but who deeply understands what peace means; a person who enters negotiations not for show, but to come to agreement; a person who defends the interests, security, and pride of this nation, but realizes that no international order can persist that does not serve the interests, security, and pride of all nations.
As I write down this list of ideals, which I keep in my heart but never speak about in public, all the normal denials are coming up. There is no person with all these qualities. If there were such a person, he or she would not be chosen by our nominating process. And if by chance someone like that were nominated for president, he or she would not be elected.
If all those kneejerk negatives are true, I might as well go into hibernation until "silly season" is over and then cast a lukewarm vote for one of the public relations creations the parties serve up to me.
But if there's even a small possibility that the 240 million souls in this awesomely powerful land could find and elect a great president, then what? Then, I guess, the thing to do is pitch in, reject the shallow posturing, ask serious questions, and get my friends and neighbors to join me in demanding that the parties, the press, and the candidates treat the election process with the dignity it deserves.
Given the national confusion on ethical issues from Baby M to the defense of the Persian Gulf, we could use some moral leadership. But if I'm a typical example, I'm afraid we are likely to look for it in the wrong place.
My all-American public school education was not heavy on ethical analysis. In fact, since I took mostly science courses, my moral confidence was systematically eroded. Every day I absorbed strong messages - values have no place in the laboratory; observe what is happening outside you not inside you; feelings have no validity; if you can't see and measure a conscience, then it must not exist.
My training taught me to determine rightness and wrongness from outside, from measurable criteria such as economic profitability, not from the promptings of an invisible, unquantifiable conscience. My elders provided me with hundreds of examples of how to rationalize glibly just about any act I might want to commit.
Then I was asked to teach a course on environmental ethics. I didn't know how to begin. How could I lead students through the thickets of moral controversy about population growth, nuclear power, and acid rain? And yet what could be more important than to provide them with some ethical grounding?
To prepare for the course, I sat in on philosophy and religion classes. I read books on ethics. I talked to pastors, priests, and gurus. I looked outside myself for moral leadership.
I discovered that that was the wrong place to look. Inside I had known right from wrong all along.
Religions and ethical theories all have lists of moral rules. They boil down to the ones we learned at our mother's knee. Don't hurt people, don't steal, don't lie. Help each other out.
The rules are not the primary authority, say the ethicists. They derive from something we all have within us, a clear sense of rightness, a sense that is given many names. We can get in touch with it whenever we want to. Prayer and meditation are ways - not the only ways - of getting in touch, of listening for moral guidance.
What that guidance says is consistent and simple. You are precious and special. So is everyone else, absolutely everyone. Act accordingly.
Don't do to someone else what you wouldn't want done to you. Don't do what would cause society to fall apart if everyone did it. Try to do what you would want done if you were someone else - a homeless person in New York, a child in Ethiopia, a Nicaraguan peasant, a Polish dockworker.
You don't want your spouse to commit adultery, so don't do it yourself. You don't want to raise a family on a minimum wage, so pay your workers decent incomes. You don't want to live near a hazardous waste dump, so don't create one. If everyone were to cheat on income tax or insider-trading laws, the government and the stock market couldn't function. So don't cheat.
It's not hard to see what's right. What's hard is to admit how much of what we do is wrong.
Moral confusion is greatest not at the individual level but at the level of nations. Nations involve people too, people who are all as unique and precious as we are. The rules still apply. We don't want Libyan jets sweeping down in the night to bomb Washington; therefore, it was wrong to bomb Tripoli. We don't want Nicaragua to finance hoodlums to shoot our people and destabilize our government; therefore, it is wrong for us to do that to them. Creating weapons that can destroy not only enemy nations but also our own is so irrational that it defies ethical theory. To think ethically, you have to be at least sane enough to recognize a wrong when it threatens you.
The usual excuse for state-sponsored immorality is that it opposes the evil of others. When the Soviet Union invades Afghanistan, when white Afrikaners oppress blacks, when Qaddafi harbors terrorists, when Chile tortures political dissenters, they are acting immorally. Don't we have an obligation to do something about it?
That's the hardest part of moral theory for me - what to do about the evil of others. I have found Gandhi to be a wise guide here. Oppose evil, he says, with all your might. Use every possible form of resistance and noncooperation. But don't use violence, which sucks you down into evil yourself. You can't fight evil with evil; fight it only with good.
By any ethical theory the basic assumptions of our foreign policy are immoral. Americans are not more worthy than other human beings. Our nation ought not to have its way at the expense of other nations. The existence of evil elsewhere does not justify committing evil ourselves. Not many of our actions in the world are morally defensible.
Moral leadership does not mean someone to tell us what to do. It means someone to help us discover that we already know what to do, someone who can recognize the smokescreens we all throw into ethical discussions to make us feel good about what we know we should feel bad about, someone to keep reminding us that we are special and precious - all of us, every one of us, but none of us more special or precious than anyone else.
When a person behaves in keeping with his conscience, when he tries to speak the truth and when he tries to behave as a citizen even under conditions where citizenship is degraded, it may not lead to anything, yet it might. But what surely will not lead to anything is when a person calculates whether it will lead to something or not.
- Vaclav Havel
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