Read Online A Passion for Leadership by Robert M Gates - Free Book Online
Authors: Robert M Gates
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change things don’t make much of an effort to reach out to these folks. Especially in very large organizations, the leader is usually a remote figure seen at ceremonies or special occasions. One summer at the CIA, an upper-echelon boss who rarely visited our office was spotted in the vicinity. One office wag loudly commented that because the boss was visiting us, “it must be Christmas.” College students, like their contemporaries in the military, are especially skeptical about the intentions of older people and cynical about authority figures.
At A&M, I became a sort of ombudsman for students, lending my personal support to individuals when I believed the bureaucracy was being unfair or too inflexible (with grades, fees, and university rules, among other issues). One August, I voided three thousand parking tickets given out on freshman move-in day by overly zealous campus police. I was persuaded by a group of students not to convert their small residence hall into offices, and I agreed to student pleas to delay for a year a similar move involving another dorm. There were numerous other such actions.
I gave student leaders a lot of my time at A&M. I invited the president of the student body to attend all my regular staff meetings—like the speaker of the faculty senate—and I routinely went before the student senate to answer any and all questions. I showed up at virtually any event student leaders suggested. I appointed students to every university search committee, task force, and council. They became strong advocates for a number of my initiatives for change, including especially the push for greater diversity.
I think my approach to winning the confidence of students worked, because when I left the university to become secretary of defense, ten thousand of them turned out to say good-bye.
My chief of staff at Texas A&M was a young lawyer, Rodney McClendon. Rodney brought many skills to the position, but one special asset was that he knew—by name—nearly every staff person at A&M, whether secretaries, members of the grounds crew, people in food services, or custodians. When I would walk across campus with him, he would make sure to introduce every one of these folks to me when our paths crossed. Perhaps more important, he made sure I was aware of issues that affected them, their concerns, and their complaints. He arranged for their leaders to meet with me to discuss problems. Rodney also kept me informed about key events in the community in which many of these employees participated, and I would often attend them. Through his efforts, I was able to establish a connection to those who played a critical role in the life of the university even if they were on the lowest rungs of the rank ladder.
On every visit to a military post or base around the world, and on every visit to the front lines, I would have breakfast or lunch with enlisted troops, noncommissioned officers, and junior- and middle-grade officers. In these get-togethers, too, I learned a lot, but they—like the other actions I have described—were also calculated gestures of respect. From my actions to help wounded warriors and their families, to get needed lifesaving equipment to the war zones, and more, the troops came to have confidence I had their backs—that I was truly there for them.
I also would regularly visit offices in the bowels of the Pentagon that no previous secretary of defense had ever seen. I visited workers in the mail room, the loading dock, the communications center. I attended the morning briefing for the Pentagon police. I visited offices of professionals many links down the chain who did critical work but never saw the boss. They were always forewarned of my visit to ensure that most who worked there were present. I stayed just long enough for each person to tell me briefly about his or her job, to have a photograph taken with each employee, to shake hands, and to thank them for their work. Such visits have an impact.
My
At A&M, I became a sort of ombudsman for students, lending my personal support to individuals when I believed the bureaucracy was being unfair or too inflexible (with grades, fees, and university rules, among other issues). One August, I voided three thousand parking tickets given out on freshman move-in day by overly zealous campus police. I was persuaded by a group of students not to convert their small residence hall into offices, and I agreed to student pleas to delay for a year a similar move involving another dorm. There were numerous other such actions.
I gave student leaders a lot of my time at A&M. I invited the president of the student body to attend all my regular staff meetings—like the speaker of the faculty senate—and I routinely went before the student senate to answer any and all questions. I showed up at virtually any event student leaders suggested. I appointed students to every university search committee, task force, and council. They became strong advocates for a number of my initiatives for change, including especially the push for greater diversity.
I think my approach to winning the confidence of students worked, because when I left the university to become secretary of defense, ten thousand of them turned out to say good-bye.
My chief of staff at Texas A&M was a young lawyer, Rodney McClendon. Rodney brought many skills to the position, but one special asset was that he knew—by name—nearly every staff person at A&M, whether secretaries, members of the grounds crew, people in food services, or custodians. When I would walk across campus with him, he would make sure to introduce every one of these folks to me when our paths crossed. Perhaps more important, he made sure I was aware of issues that affected them, their concerns, and their complaints. He arranged for their leaders to meet with me to discuss problems. Rodney also kept me informed about key events in the community in which many of these employees participated, and I would often attend them. Through his efforts, I was able to establish a connection to those who played a critical role in the life of the university even if they were on the lowest rungs of the rank ladder.
On every visit to a military post or base around the world, and on every visit to the front lines, I would have breakfast or lunch with enlisted troops, noncommissioned officers, and junior- and middle-grade officers. In these get-togethers, too, I learned a lot, but they—like the other actions I have described—were also calculated gestures of respect. From my actions to help wounded warriors and their families, to get needed lifesaving equipment to the war zones, and more, the troops came to have confidence I had their backs—that I was truly there for them.
I also would regularly visit offices in the bowels of the Pentagon that no previous secretary of defense had ever seen. I visited workers in the mail room, the loading dock, the communications center. I attended the morning briefing for the Pentagon police. I visited offices of professionals many links down the chain who did critical work but never saw the boss. They were always forewarned of my visit to ensure that most who worked there were present. I stayed just long enough for each person to tell me briefly about his or her job, to have a photograph taken with each employee, to shake hands, and to thank them for their work. Such visits have an impact.
My
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